By Far Euphrates A Tale 22
Jack heard from Shushan, when he visited her, many lamentations over the
departure of her beloved young teacher, Miss Fairchild. Many stories
lingered in Urfa, and were told him by the Vartonians, of those loving
ministrations to the poor, and especially to the Sassoun refugees, which
had nearly cost the young missionary her life; and also of the gratitude
and affection with which they were repaid. Once during her illness, when
her life was almost despaired of, a poor man, a seller of antiquities,
heard that she had asked for fish. This seemed impossible to procure,
for it was summer, and the Euphrates, from which fish was brought in
winter, was two days' journey off. But, in the midst of the city is the
beautiful Pool of Abraham, where are kept the sacred fish, which every
one feeds, and which the Moslems esteem so highly, it is death to touch
one of them. The poor Armenian watched by the pool until the darkest and
most silent hour of the night; then, at the peril of his life, he caught
some of the fish, and brought them to the Mission House. David's Three
Mighty Men, who brought the water from the well of Bethlehem, did no
more.
Very touching also was the story of the service held in the Cathedral to
pray for her recovery. The Gregorian Bishop, and all the priests in the
city took part in it, and the great building was thronged from end to
end. "God _must_ give her back to us," the Armenians said.
On Sunday, the 27th of October, Jack attended Pastor Stepanian's church.
After the service he went to meet his friends, who had most of them gone
to the Cathedral. He saw, before he reached it, that something unusual
was going on. All the Armenians he met seemed to be in a curious state
of excitement; most of them were hurrying somewhere in hot haste.
Whatever possessed them this time however, it was certainly not fear.
The scraps of conversation that reached his ear savoured of hope, and of
confident appeal to Law. "Have him up,"--"Go to Government House,"--"See
what they will do," and words like these.
"Oh, Gabriel, is that you?" he cried, seeing the boy come towards him.
"You will tell me, what is all this about?" Gabriel, who had been at the
Cathedral, explained: "There was a crowd of us standing about in the
churchyard after service, when a Turk came in. He looked from one to
another, no one caring to say anything to him--though of course he had
no business there--till at last he lighted upon poor Baghas, the
money-changer. He began to curse him by the Prophet, and to give him all
sorts of foul language. How had he, a dog of a Giaour, dared to come to
_his_ house, and ask him for money? Baghas stood his ground, with a
courage that astonished us all. He told the Turk plainly it was all his
own fault. What business had he to buy gold coins of him, if he could
not pay for them? Let him give him the money he owed him, and make an
end, that was all he wanted. There came to be a crowd round the two of
them; yet was no man quick enough to stop the Turk when he flashed out
his scimitar, and stabbed poor Baghas to the heart. 'Take that for
payment, Giaour,' saith he. But he said no more; for our people closed
upon him with a cry of rage. I heard them saying, 'Now we shall see the
good of the Reforms!' 'Now we shall have justice!' 'Djanum[4]! are our
men to be killed like dogs?' and more of that kind."
"Heaven send they have not harmed the Turk," Jack said; "the bill for
that would be too heavy."
"I don't think they have. They got him in the midst of them, and they
are taking him to the Government House, to lodge a complaint against him
there."
"I remember once, in England, seeing a sparrow fly at a cat, in defence
of her young. It reminds me of that," said Jack. "Gabriel, I want to
see this thing through, but I don't want _you_ to come. There may be
rough work."
"Oh, I should _like_ to come. I am not afraid."
"But, if you were hurt, Shushan would not like that; we must think of
her."
"Yes," said Gabriel slowly. "Yon Effendi, I will go home."
With a self-denial Jack scarcely appreciated at its full value, he
turned away and ran quickly down a side street. Jack went on his way,
and he had no difficulty in finding it, for cries and shouts, and the
trampling of many feet directed him to a market place, some distance
off. Here, at first, he could not see the wood for the trees. All the
place seemed full of Turks and Armenians mixed together, shouting,
struggling, swaying, and pushing, now this way, now that. It seemed to
be a free fight, but what they were all fighting about was not clear to
an onlooker. Still, not to be left out when good things were going, Jack
took his share by snatching a knife from the hand of a Turk who was
threatening an Armenian with it.
Presently half a dozen Turkish horse--Regulars, with a splendid-looking
officer at their head, came dashing into the square, and sending both
Turks and Christians running in all directions. But one Turk did not
run, for he lay dying on the ground. It was the murderer of Baghas. The
soldiers took up the wounded man and set him on a horse. And then the
Turks began to return; a number of them gathered round the group, with a
few Christians also. Jack heard them cry out that the man was dying.
"How did you get here, Yon Effendi?" said the voice of Barkev Vartonian
beside him.
"I met Gabriel, and came. What are they going to do?"
"Going to take the man to the Government House, I suppose. They will
never get him there alive."
"Barkev, who killed him?"
"The zaptiehs, of course, when they could not get him from us. I _saw_
one of them stab him with a bayonet."
"I thought one of our people might have done it, seeing they wanted to
take him from us."
"How, save with sticks or stones? We have nothing else, as you know. But
the Turks will try to put it on us, no doubt. Come along to the
Government House, and let us see what happens."
As they reached the place, Barkev exclaimed, "Djanum! there is Dr.
Melkon, of all men, in the hands of the zaptiehs. What can _he_ have
done?"
"Not arrested as a criminal, I hope, but called in as a doctor," said
Jack, as they came up.
If so, the wounded Turk was beyond his skill. They heard those around
him saying he was dead. At the same time Melkon's voice reached their
ears. He could do no good now, he pleaded, entreating the Turks to let
him go about his business, which was urgent. He had a serious case to
attend to--a Mussulman Effendi.
No; he must stay, and certify to the cause of death. Barkev and Jack
followed the crowd, which streamed into the Government House--an open
court, where they could see all that passed.
They saw the body laid on a divan, and they saw Melkon approach to
examine it. The Turkish officer stood beside him, a drawn sword in his
hand.
"This man has been killed by the blows of sticks or bludgeons," he said,
in a loud voice. Melkon stooped over the body; the officer stooped also,
and whispered something in his ear.
Almost instantly Melkon stood up, his face pale as that of the dead man
who lay before them. For once the noisy, chattering Eastern crowd kept a
profound silence. Melkon's low, firm voice reached every ear,--
"This man has died of wounds inflicted by the bayonet."
"No case against us," Barkev said.
But Melkon had sealed his own death warrant, and he knew it. For one
moment he faced the crowd--
"I can die, but I cannot lie," he said.
His voice was drowned in a howl of execration, and a dozen furious hands
laid hold on him at once.
"To the rescue!" cried Jack and Barkev together, dashing in amongst the
throng.
"Keep quiet!" muttered a voice beside them, and a Turk they knew laid
his hand on Barkev's shoulder. "Keep quiet and go home," he went on in a
whisper; "my brothers have got the doctor, and will hide him in our
house. He has attended us; we like him, and we will not let him be
killed."
Somewhat comforted, the young men went home. As they passed through the
streets, the Moslems greeted them with threats and insults.
"We will soon make an end of you, dogs of Giaours," they cried. Boys
threw stones at them, and women screamed curses--foul and hideous
Turkish curses--at the top of their shrill voices.
"I do not like the look of things at all," said Barkev, when they got
into their own quarter.
"Nor I," Jack answered. "I think it would be no harm for some of us to
keep watch to-night. I volunteer, for one." And he went apart to clean
his precious revolver, and to load the two serviceable barrels. He had
not dared to get it set in order; that would have been far too
dangerous.
The night, so far as they knew, passed quietly away. Many Armenians had
shops or booths, or other business to attend to outside their own
Quarter, and this was the case with some members of the Vartonian
family. On Monday morning the women prayed of them to stay at home, and,
indeed, the greater number did so. But others thought it the part of
wisdom, as well as of manly courage, to go about as usual. Barkev
Vartonian was amongst these, and Jack went with him for company.
They had not gone far beyond the limits of their own Quarter when a boy
ran against them, screaming with terror, and caught Jack by the zeboun.
"What is it? What is the matter, poor child?" he asked; then looking
more closely cried out, "Hagop! Hagop Meneshian! How is this? Have you
all come? Where are you?"
"We came in at the gate," Hagop gasped out. "Then the Dajeeks set on us
with sticks and stones and knives. Oh, they are going to kill us! What
shall we do?"
댓글 없음:
댓글 쓰기