Chapter 4 Chapter Four

By this time the boatman had arrived, and came to inform Lord Kerabong that his boat was waiting for him at the pier. On the waters of the Bosphorus in Kinkerna there are thousands of boatmen, their scull boats are equally slender both head and tail, so that they can go forward and backward, and their shapes are like 15 to 20 The foot skates are made of some beech boards or cypress boards, and the inward side is also carved or painted with colors.It was marvelous to see these slender boats passing and passing each other so swiftly through the majestic strait that divides the coasts of the two continents.From the Sea of ​​Marmara to the Forts of Europe and Fort Asia, which stood opposite each other on the northern side of the Bosphorus, this service was undertaken by important boatmen's guilds.

These men were handsome, and usually wore a silk shirt known as a "Bluchuk," a brightly colored "Jerek" embroidered with gold, a pair of white cotton shorts, a Turkish cap, and a pair of "Yemenis", bare legs and arms. Lord Kerabong's boatman—that is, the boatman who took him to Skuthari every evening and brought him back every morning—needs not to be overemphasized if he was given a cold shoulder for being a few minutes late. .The calm crew member was not overly agitated, and he knew that the great customer had to be yelled at, and his answer was simply to point to the boat tied to the quay.

So Lord Kerabon, accompanied by Van Mittern, led Bruno and Nisib towards the boat, when there was a commotion in the crowd in Tophane Square. Lord Kerabong paused. "What happened?" he asked. The police chief of the Galata district, surrounded by the guards who opened the way, now entered the square, armed with a drum and a trumpet.The drums were rumbling and the horns were blowing, and the crowd, mixed with people of all kinds from Europe and Asia, gradually became quiet. "There must be some unjust announcement again!" Master Kailabon said to himself, and it could be heard that he was a person who planned to insist on his rights no matter when and where.

The prefect of police now took out a sheet of paper, stamped with some seals, as usual, and read aloud the following decree: According to the order of the Minister of Security, Mosir, from now on, anyone who wants to cross the Bosphorus from Constantinople to Skuthari, or from Skuthari to Constantinople, regardless of taking A tax of 10 barras is payable on small boats, and on any sail or steamboat.Refusal to pay taxes is punishable by imprisonment and fines. Standing in the palace on the 16th of this month. Signed: Mosher The new tax, roughly equivalent to five centimes per person in France, has sparked some discontent.

"Good! A new tax!" exclaimed an "old Turk," but he must have long been used to the financial tricks of the Ottoman Emperor. "Ten barras! The price of half a cup of coffee!" echoed another. The Chief of Police, well aware that in Turkey, as everywhere else, people pay taxes when they talk, was leaving the square when Lord Kerabon came up to him. "So," he said, "a new tax is imposed on everyone who crosses the Bosphorus?" "It is the decree of Mosier," replied the police chief. He went on to say: "What! Is this rich Kerabong protesting?"

"That's right! It's the rich Kerabong!" "How are you, Lord Kerabong?" "Very well . "Without a doubt ... from the time it was announced." "Then what if, according to my habit, I want to take my boat back to... Skutaly...tonight?" "You just pay 10 barras." "And what about the Bosphorus I have to cross every morning and evening?" "You just pay 20 barras a day," replied the chief of police. "It's just a drop in the bucket for rich Kerabong!" "real?" "My master is in trouble!" Nisib whispered to Bruno.

"He should give in!" "He! You don't know him yet!" Lord Kerabon folded his arms, staring at the Chief Constable face to face, and said in a hissing voice of beginning irritation: "Well, here is my boatman, who told me just now that his boat is ready for me, as I am taking my friend Mr. Van Mittern, his servant, and my—" "That's 40 balas," said the police chief. "I repeat that you can afford to pay..." "I can afford 40 balas," Kerabong continued, "and I can afford 100, 1,000, 100,000, and 500,000 balas, it's all possible, but I don't pay any, But I'm still going!"

"I'm sorry to upset Lord Kerabong," said the police chief, "but it's hard not to pay!" "You can pass without paying!" "cannot!" "can!" "Friend Kerabon..." said Van Mettaine, who was well-meaning and trying to reason with the most difficult of men. "Keep me quiet, Van Mettaine!" Kerabon answered him angrily. "This tax is unjust and exasperating! It should not be surrendered! The government of the 'Old Turks' has never dared to tax the boats of the Bosphorus!" "Then the government of the new Turks needed money and did so without hesitation!" said the police chief.

"Let's see!" Kerabong yelled. "Guards," said the police chief to the soldiers accompanying him, "you must ensure that the new law is enforced." "Come here, Van Mittain," Kerabong said tit for tat, still stepping on the ground with his feet, "Come here, Bruno, follow us, Nisib!" "Forty barras to pay..." said the chief of police. "Forty sticks!" cried Lord Kerabong, already furious. But as he was walking towards Tophane Pier, the guards surrounded him, forcing him to turn back. "Let me go!" he yelled, struggling. "None of you is allowed to touch me, not even with your fingers! In the name of Allah, I will go! And I will go without taking a Bala out of my pocket!"

"Yes, you'll go through, only you're going through the prison gates," replied the police chief, for he too was outraged, "and you'll have to pay a big fine to get out!" "I'm going to Skuthari!" "It is by no means possible to cross the Bosphorus, and since there is no other way to get there..." "You think so?" Lord Kerabong replied with clenched fists, his face flushed. "You think so? ... I'm going to Skuthari, and I don't cross the Bosphorus, so I don't have to pay ..." "Indeed!" "When I should...that's right!...When I should go around the Black Sea."

"700 kilometers to save 10 balas!" shouted the police chief, shrugging his shoulders. "700 kilometers, 1,000, 10,000, 100,000 kilometers," Kailabang replied, "as long as you can save 5, 2, even 1 barra!" "But, my friend..." said Van Mettaine. "Say it again, let me be quiet!..." Kerabong's reply rejected his intervention. "It's over! Now he's on his way!" Bruno said to himself. "I'm going upstream along Turkey, across the Chesones peninsula, across the Caucasus, across Anatolia to Skutaly, without paying a single bara for your unjust taxes!" "Let's see!" the police chief retorted. "Everyone has seen it!" Lord Kerabong yelled angrily. "I'm leaving tonight!" "Damn it!" said Captain Yaud to Scarbant, who had heard every word of the unexpected argument, "and now he might mess up our plans!" "Exactly," Skarbant replied. "If this obstinate man sticks a little to his plan, he will pass through Odessa, and if he decides to have a wedding on the way! . . . " "But . . . " repeated Van Metertaine, wanting to prevent his friend Kerabon from engaging in such madness. "Tell you not to disturb me!" "And what about your nephew Ahme's wedding?" "This matter is related to the wedding!" Scarbant immediately pulled Yaud aside: "Not even an hour's delay!" "Indeed," replied the Captain of Malta, "to-morrow morning I shall take the train from Andrinopur to Odessa." Then the two men walked away. Just then, Lord Kerabong suddenly turned to his servant. "Nisib," he said. "My master." "Follow me to the store!" "To the firm!" Nisib replied. "You too, Van Mettaine!" added Kerabon. "I?" "And you too, Bruno." "I……" "Let's go together." "Ah!" said Bruno, listening carefully. "Yes! I invited you to Supper in Skuta," said Lord Kerabong to Van Mettaine. "By Allah! You will supper in Skuta... Wait for us After coming back!" "Not before coming back?..." replied the Dutchman, who was quite confused by the suggestion. "It wouldn't have been a month, a year, or ten years ago!" Kerabong retorted, his tone not allowing for the slightest defiance, "but since you accept the invitation, you will have my dinner!" "It's already cold!" Bruno said to himself. "Kerabon friend, please allow..." "I won't allow anything, Van Mettain. Come here!" Lord Kailabon said as he walked a few steps deeper into the square. "There's nothing against this damned man!" said Van Mittain to Bruno. "Why, my lord, are you going to make concessions to such a whimsical act?" "It doesn't matter if I'm here or anywhere else, Bruno, I'm not in Rotterdam any more!" "But……" "And since I follow my friend Kerabong, you must follow me!" "So complicated!" "Let's go," said Lord Kerabong. Then he turned one last time to the chief of police, who was smiling sinisterly to provoke him. "I'm going," said he, "whatever your decree may be, I'm going to Skutali without crossing the Bosphorus!" "I shall be glad to see you back here after such an interesting excursion!" replied the Chief of Police. "I shall be very glad to see you here when I come back!" said Lord Kerabong. "But I will tell you in advance," added the Police Commissioner, "that as long as this tax is in force..." "so what?" "I will not let you come back to Constantinople across the Bosphorus unless you pay 10 balas each!" "If your unjust taxes are still in effect," replied Lord Kerabong in the same tone, "I will know how to get back to Constantinople without letting a Bala in my pocket fall to you. go!" Having said that, Lord Kerabong took Van Mittain's arm, motioned for Bruno and Nisib to follow, and then disappeared into the crowd.The crowd applauded and cheered for the loyalist of the Old Turk party, who was doggedly defending his interests. At this moment, there was a cannon shot from a distance.The sun had just sunk below the horizon of the Sea of ​​Marmara, the fasting period was over, and the loyal subjects of the Ottoman Emperor could make up for the long day of fasting. Like the waving of a magic wand, Constantinople suddenly changed.The silence in Tophane Square was replaced by shouts of joy and cheers of joy.Pipes and hookahs were lit, and the air was filled with their aroma.The coffee shop is instantly filled with thirsty and hungry consumers.Various kebabs; 'yaut', which means cheese; 'kemak', which is a boiled cream; 'kebab', lamb cutlets; 'baklava', baked Baked cakes; rice balls wrapped in grape leaves, boiled corn on the cob, barrels of olives, barrels of caviar, small chicken pancakes with fried eggs covered in honey, syrups, sorbets, ice cream, coffee, oriental everything Everything that can be eaten and drank appears on the table in front of the shop, and the small lamps hanging on a spiral copper wire move up and down under the action of the thumb of the boss who shakes them. Then both the old city and its new quarters lit up magically.All the mosques, Hagia Sophia, Suleimani, Sultan-Ahmad; all religious or secular buildings, from the Burnu Palace to the Eub Hill, were lit with colorful lights.Streaks of shimmering verses on mosque minarets echo each other, marking out the Koranic sayings against the dark sky.The Bosporus Strait, which is rowed by boats with lanterns swaying in the waves, sparkles like stars falling in the sky.The palaces that towered on the shore, the villas on the shores of Asia and Europe, Śkitari, ancient Chrysopolis with its terraced tiers of houses, were only gleaming silhouettes, and It is brighter under the reflection of sea water. The sound of Basque drums echoing in the distance, the luta or guitar, tabulca, lebel and flutes, mingled with the monotonous prayers at sunset.And on the top of the minaret, in a voice extended on three notes, they utter to the jubilant city the last call to vespers, consisting of one Turkish word and two Arabic words: "Allah, boekk kebir!" ( Allah, Allah the Great!).

---

Notes: