CHAPTER XXX.Alongside the river Murad—Waterfalls—The Melaskert river—Tchekhane—An attack of fever—Quinine—The doctor at Toprak Kale—He arrives—The consultation—Excitement amongst the villagers—The stethoscope—The audience—How clever these Franks are!—The Effendi is going to die—Rheumatic fever—Pressed fruit—A native remedy—A long night.We were once more in winter, deep snow lay along our path. There were several Yezeed villages by the track, which began to rise abruptly by the side of the river Murad, and was here and there cut out of the solid rock.In many places waterfalls dashed over the path, and we were literally riding beneath a canopy of water, which fell, several hundred feet over precipices into the river below. At others the torrent dashed across the track itself. We had to advance with the greatest caution to avoid being swept down the abyss.I now crossed the Melaskert river. Here our guide had a narrow escape of being carried away by the torrent. Presently we arrived at Tchekhane, an Armenian village, about eight miles distant from the town of Toprak Kale.I had been suffering great pain during the last two marches, and, on dismounting from my horse, should have fallen to the ground, if it had not been for Mohammed.The latter helped me to enter the house of my host, an Armenian peasant. Staggering up to the hearth, I threw myself down beside the fire. My legs seemed to have lost all their strength; I had great pain in the head and back. My pulse was beating very rapidly. It intermitted.Thinking that it was an attack of fever, I desired Radford to give me the medicine-chest, and after taking ten grains of quinine, tried to sleep. This, however, was impossible—the insects in the house would have prevented slumber, even if the fever had not done so.The night passed away. In the morning I found myself so weak that I could barely raise my head from the pillow."There is a doctor at Toprak Kale," observed my Armenian host. "He is a Frank: why not send for him?"I did so; but the medical man did not arrive. I lay all that day racked by pain, and half devoured by insects.In the morning I overheard the following conversation between Mohammed and the proprietor."There are many fleas; my Effendi cannot sleep.""It is true," replied the Armenian; "but there are by no means so many here as in a Kurd village a few miles distant. The Kurds have been obliged to abandon their houses in consequence of these insects. They have had to live in tents for several months past."Another night passed without my obtaining any slumber. In the morning I had a visit from the doctor, a Hungarian who was attached to a regiment at Toprak Kale.The news of the arrival of the son of Æsculapius was soon spread through the village. My bed-chamber, the stable, in which there were three cows, was speedily thronged by as many excited inhabitants as could find standing-room.The doctor was a young man; he had not been long in Asia Minor, and could only speak a few words of Turkish. But he wore a uniform and was accompanied by a Zaptieh. This was sufficientat once to strike awe into the Armenian villagers."Are you in pain?" said the doctor, in German."Yes.""Where?""Behind the shoulders and in the side.""I will examine you."Producing a stethoscope, he placed one end of it upon my chest, and the other to his ear. This proceeding gave rise to great astonishment amidst the assembled visitors, who eagerly pressed forward to witness the operation."Donnerwetter!" said the indignant physician in German. "Haide, go away!" This last word in Turkish to the Armenians, who, frightened at the sonorous sounds of the "Donnerwetter," had already withdrawn for a few steps.There were also some Turkish peasants in the room. They had made friends with Mohammed. He had placed them behind two cows in a corner, so that they might have a good view of the doctor."What is he doing to the Effendi?" inquired one of them of Mohammed."He is looking into his body," observed another.Mohammed himself now craned out his neck in my direction."Effendi! is he looking into your stomach?""No; he is listening to the beats of my heart.""How clever these Franks are!" said one of the Turks. "They do not even take the trouble to look; they are quite satisfied by listening.""I wish the hakim would put the instrument on my chest; it would do me good," he continued."Perhaps he would if we asked him," added the other."Silence!" said Mohammed. "The doctor is saying something."The face of the medical gentleman became a little grave after he had sounded me. This gave great satisfaction to the audience."See how solemn he looks!" remarked one of the bystanders; "the Effendi is going to die.""What is the matter with me?" I inquired."Rheumatic fever; and your heart is out of order," said the doctor. "You must lie quiet for several days, and I will send you some medicine. My battalion probably marches to-morrow," he continued, "and so I fear I cannot come here again."Pocketing his fee, the medical gentleman mounted his horse, and rode off with the Zaptieh.I had eaten nothing for two days, and my mouth was parched. Mohammed, seeing this, brought me some pressed fruit—a sort of wild cranberry, which the natives dry, and then, if any one has a fever, they soak the fruit in water and give it him to drink. The pressed berries are very nasty to look at. They much resemble tezek. For a moment I thought that Mohammed was giving me a piece of that fuel by way of a febrifuge. On tasting the beverage I found that the flavour was very agreeable. It was acid, and, in Mohammed's opinion, was a most valuable remedy for fever.The day wore on. In the evening the cows inside my bedroom were joined by three buffaloes.The air in the room became fouler and more dense. It was snowing outside, and the proprietor had covered the hole, which took the place of a chimney, with a large stone. I lay awake for the greater part of the night, every now and then drinking copious draughts of the pressed fruit dissolved in water. Nature at last succumbed. I had not slept for several nights. The figures of the cows and buffaloes became smaller: they gradually disappeared. The light given out by apiece of cotton steeped in some melted fat, and placed in an iron tripod, became more flickering: the sounds of my followers' snoring seemed to fade away. I shut my eyes and fell asleep.I was awakened late the following afternoon by something cold and clammy against my hand. On looking up, I found it was one of the cows. My arm was stretched out by her trough. The animal was licking my fingers with her tongue."I was afraid that she would awake you, sir," remarked my servant Radford, coming to my side. "I wished to drive her away, but was afraid of disturbing you."
Alongside the river Murad—Waterfalls—The Melaskert river—Tchekhane—An attack of fever—Quinine—The doctor at Toprak Kale—He arrives—The consultation—Excitement amongst the villagers—The stethoscope—The audience—How clever these Franks are!—The Effendi is going to die—Rheumatic fever—Pressed fruit—A native remedy—A long night.
We were once more in winter, deep snow lay along our path. There were several Yezeed villages by the track, which began to rise abruptly by the side of the river Murad, and was here and there cut out of the solid rock.
In many places waterfalls dashed over the path, and we were literally riding beneath a canopy of water, which fell, several hundred feet over precipices into the river below. At others the torrent dashed across the track itself. We had to advance with the greatest caution to avoid being swept down the abyss.
I now crossed the Melaskert river. Here our guide had a narrow escape of being carried away by the torrent. Presently we arrived at Tchekhane, an Armenian village, about eight miles distant from the town of Toprak Kale.
I had been suffering great pain during the last two marches, and, on dismounting from my horse, should have fallen to the ground, if it had not been for Mohammed.
The latter helped me to enter the house of my host, an Armenian peasant. Staggering up to the hearth, I threw myself down beside the fire. My legs seemed to have lost all their strength; I had great pain in the head and back. My pulse was beating very rapidly. It intermitted.
Thinking that it was an attack of fever, I desired Radford to give me the medicine-chest, and after taking ten grains of quinine, tried to sleep. This, however, was impossible—the insects in the house would have prevented slumber, even if the fever had not done so.
The night passed away. In the morning I found myself so weak that I could barely raise my head from the pillow.
"There is a doctor at Toprak Kale," observed my Armenian host. "He is a Frank: why not send for him?"
I did so; but the medical man did not arrive. I lay all that day racked by pain, and half devoured by insects.
In the morning I overheard the following conversation between Mohammed and the proprietor.
"There are many fleas; my Effendi cannot sleep."
"It is true," replied the Armenian; "but there are by no means so many here as in a Kurd village a few miles distant. The Kurds have been obliged to abandon their houses in consequence of these insects. They have had to live in tents for several months past."
Another night passed without my obtaining any slumber. In the morning I had a visit from the doctor, a Hungarian who was attached to a regiment at Toprak Kale.
The news of the arrival of the son of Æsculapius was soon spread through the village. My bed-chamber, the stable, in which there were three cows, was speedily thronged by as many excited inhabitants as could find standing-room.
The doctor was a young man; he had not been long in Asia Minor, and could only speak a few words of Turkish. But he wore a uniform and was accompanied by a Zaptieh. This was sufficientat once to strike awe into the Armenian villagers.
"Are you in pain?" said the doctor, in German.
"Yes."
"Where?"
"Behind the shoulders and in the side."
"I will examine you."
Producing a stethoscope, he placed one end of it upon my chest, and the other to his ear. This proceeding gave rise to great astonishment amidst the assembled visitors, who eagerly pressed forward to witness the operation.
"Donnerwetter!" said the indignant physician in German. "Haide, go away!" This last word in Turkish to the Armenians, who, frightened at the sonorous sounds of the "Donnerwetter," had already withdrawn for a few steps.
There were also some Turkish peasants in the room. They had made friends with Mohammed. He had placed them behind two cows in a corner, so that they might have a good view of the doctor.
"What is he doing to the Effendi?" inquired one of them of Mohammed.
"He is looking into his body," observed another.
Mohammed himself now craned out his neck in my direction.
"Effendi! is he looking into your stomach?"
"No; he is listening to the beats of my heart."
"How clever these Franks are!" said one of the Turks. "They do not even take the trouble to look; they are quite satisfied by listening."
"I wish the hakim would put the instrument on my chest; it would do me good," he continued.
"Perhaps he would if we asked him," added the other.
"Silence!" said Mohammed. "The doctor is saying something."
The face of the medical gentleman became a little grave after he had sounded me. This gave great satisfaction to the audience.
"See how solemn he looks!" remarked one of the bystanders; "the Effendi is going to die."
"What is the matter with me?" I inquired.
"Rheumatic fever; and your heart is out of order," said the doctor. "You must lie quiet for several days, and I will send you some medicine. My battalion probably marches to-morrow," he continued, "and so I fear I cannot come here again."
Pocketing his fee, the medical gentleman mounted his horse, and rode off with the Zaptieh.
I had eaten nothing for two days, and my mouth was parched. Mohammed, seeing this, brought me some pressed fruit—a sort of wild cranberry, which the natives dry, and then, if any one has a fever, they soak the fruit in water and give it him to drink. The pressed berries are very nasty to look at. They much resemble tezek. For a moment I thought that Mohammed was giving me a piece of that fuel by way of a febrifuge. On tasting the beverage I found that the flavour was very agreeable. It was acid, and, in Mohammed's opinion, was a most valuable remedy for fever.
The day wore on. In the evening the cows inside my bedroom were joined by three buffaloes.
The air in the room became fouler and more dense. It was snowing outside, and the proprietor had covered the hole, which took the place of a chimney, with a large stone. I lay awake for the greater part of the night, every now and then drinking copious draughts of the pressed fruit dissolved in water. Nature at last succumbed. I had not slept for several nights. The figures of the cows and buffaloes became smaller: they gradually disappeared. The light given out by apiece of cotton steeped in some melted fat, and placed in an iron tripod, became more flickering: the sounds of my followers' snoring seemed to fade away. I shut my eyes and fell asleep.
I was awakened late the following afternoon by something cold and clammy against my hand. On looking up, I found it was one of the cows. My arm was stretched out by her trough. The animal was licking my fingers with her tongue.
"I was afraid that she would awake you, sir," remarked my servant Radford, coming to my side. "I wished to drive her away, but was afraid of disturbing you."