Chapter 14 Chapter Fourteen
Kerch City is located on the Kerch Peninsula at the eastern end of Tauris Island.On the north side of this long and narrow peninsula, it is crescent-shaped.It is majestically overlooked by a mountain peak on which an acropolis once stood: Mount Mithridat.A terrible and ruthless enemy of the Romans, who almost drove them out of Asia.It is indeed fitting that this daring general, polyglot, legendary toxicologist has his place opposite the city that was once the capital of the Bosporus kingdom.It was at this place that Obatel the Terrible, king of the kingdom of Ponte, who, being unable to poison himself, as his iron body could withstand any poison, let a Gallic soldier impale himself with a sword.
Such was the short history lesson that Van Mittern thought should be taught to his companions during the half-hour break.This class led his friend Kerabong to this answer:
"Mithridate is just a fool!"
"Why?" asked Van Mettaine.
"If he really wants to poison himself, he can just go to our Alaba Hotel and have dinner!"
Hearing this, the Dutchman believed that he could not continue to praise the husband of the beautiful Monim.But he counted on seeing the great man's capital well in the few hours that would leave him.
The horse-drawn carriage passed through the city, and its peculiar way of harnessing the carriages amazed the residents of all ethnic groups.The city had a large Jewish population, but also Tatars, Greeks, and even Russians—some 12,000 inhabitants in all.
As soon as Ahmet arrived at the Hotel Constantine, his first concern was to inquire whether there were any horses in exchange for the next morning.To his great satisfaction, this time there were horses in the stables of the post station.
"Fortunately," Kairabang noted, "Lord Safar didn't take away the horses from this station!"
Still, Ahme's impatient uncle was furious at the wretch who had dared to go ahead of him and drag the post horses away.
In any case, the dromedaries were useless, and he sold them to the owner of a desert caravan going to the Ienecare Strait, but the two live camels were sold for the price of a dead camel.The vengeful Kairabong recorded this apparent loss on Lord Safar's debt sheet.
This Safar, of course, would not be in Kerch again - which certainly saved him from one of the most serious debates with his opponent.He left the city two days ago and boarded a train to the Caucasus.Happily, he was out of the way of those travelers who decided to follow the coast.
A good supper at the "Hotel Constantine," and a good night's sleep in reasonably comfortable rooms, made the master and servant forget all unpleasantness.A letter from Ahme to Odessa, it can also be said that the trip is proceeding as planned.
The next day was September 5, and since the departure was fixed at 10 o'clock in the morning, serious Van Mittain rose at dawn to see the city.This time Ahme is going to accompany him.
So the two walked through the wide streets of Kerch, lined with cobbled sidewalks, where wild dogs roamed about, and a bohemian, who was responsible for beating them with a club, was a recognized executioner.But the executioner must have been drinking during the night, for Ahmey and Van Mittaine had some trouble getting rid of the tusks of these dangerous beasts.
In the depths of the bay formed by the bend in the shore, stone piers extended to both sides of the channel, making their walks more convenient.There stood the governor's palace and the customs building.Due to lack of water, the ships were anchored in the open sea, and the port of Kerch provided them with a suitable anchorage, not far from the quarantine station.The port has flourished since the city was ceded to Russia in 1774, and it also houses a storehouse for the saltworks of Perekop.
"Shall we have time to climb it?" asked Van Mittes, pointing to Mithridat, where a temple of the Greeks now stands, adorned with the spoils of Kerch's vast possession - the temple replaced the former the Acropolis.
"Hmm!" Ahme said, "Uncle Kerabong can't be kept waiting!"
"And he can't keep his nephew waiting!" said Van Mettaine, smiling.
"Indeed," went on Ahmey, "almost all of my thoughts during this trip were to return to Skutaly at once! Do you understand me, Mr. van Mettaine?"
"Yes... I understand, young friend," replied the Dutchman, "though Mrs. van Mittain's husband has every right not to understand you!"
Having said this feeling, confirmed by the family life in Rotterdam, the two began to climb the Mithridat mountain because there were still two hours before departure.
Looking at the Kerch Bay from a height, I saw a majestic scene.Presenting the tip of the peninsula to the south and beyond the Ienikare Strait to the east, the two peninsulas surrounding the Gulf of Taman form a circle.The pristine sky allows glimpses of the undulations of the terrain, and these 'kurgans', the tombs of antiquity, dot the fields down to the tiniest coral reef.
Ahme thought it was time to go back to the hotel, and he pointed out to Van Mittain a magnificent staircase with railings that led from Mithridat Hill into the town to the market place.A quarter of an hour later they saw Monsieur Kerabon again, who was trying in vain to argue with the innkeeper, a most placid Tatar.They arrived just in time, because he was angry that he hadn't had a chance to get angry.
There the carriage was harnessed to fine horses from Persia, the trade in which was an important trade in Kerch.When everyone was seated, the carriage galloped off, and the dromedary's weary trot was never to be missed again.
Ahme was not without a certain unease as he approached the strait.Because he remembered what happened when Kelsen changed course.At the insistence of his nephew, Lord Kerabon agreed never to go round the Sea of Azov, in order to take the shortest route through the Crimea.But in doing so, he probably imagined that every place along the way would not be without solid ground.He was mistaken, and Ahme did nothing to clear up his misunderstanding.
He could be a very good Turk, a very good wholesaler of tobacco, and not be well versed in geography.Ahme's uncle probably didn't know that the sea of Azov flows into the Black Sea through a wide channel, which is the Bosporus Strait of the ancient Cimmerians, named the Ienikare Strait, so he You have to cross this strait between the Kerch Peninsula and the Taman Peninsula.
But Lord Kerabong's nephew had long known that he hated the sea.What would he say when he faced the channel and had to cross it at its widest point, which was about 20 nautical miles, because of the current or the water was too shallow?What if he stubbornly refused to take the risk?What if he advocated retraversing the entire eastern coast of the Crimea and following the coast of the Sea of Azov to the first ridges of the Caucasus?How much longer would the journey be like that!What a waste of time!How much profit will be lost!How was it possible to reach Skuthari on September 30?
That's what Ahme thought as the carriage crossed the peninsula.It would be in the channel by two o'clock, and my uncle would know what was going on.Would it not be better now to prepare him for such serious contingencies?But what tact should be employed so that conversation does not degenerate into debate, and debate does not degenerate into quarrel?If Lord Kerabong is stubborn, nothing will change his mind, and he will force the carriage back from Kerch, whether you like it or not.
So Ahme couldn't make up his mind.If he confessed to his tricks, he might make his uncle very angry!Wouldn't it be better if he himself had acted ignorant and feigned bewilderment when he saw a strait where he thought he would find a way?
"May Allah help me!" Ahme thought.
He waited obediently for Allah, the Muslim, to rescue him from his predicament.
The Kerch peninsula is divided by a long moat formed in ancient times, known as the Wall of Akos.The road from the city to the quarantine station followed the ditch, which was fairly easy, but became slippery and difficult on the slope leading to the coast.
So the carriage did not go fast in the morning, which gave Van Mittern a more complete understanding of this part of Chesones.
All in all, this is the desolate Russian steppe.Some caravans crossing the prairie are looking for a place to rest along the Arkos wall, and the camp presents a moving scene of an oriental style.The field is covered with countless "kurgaons", that is, tents. It looks like a huge cemetery, which is not pleasant, but archaeologists have dug deep. Treasures such as Etruscan vases, gemstones from burial mounds, and ancient jewelry now adorn the walls of Kerch monasteries and the halls of museums.
Near noon, a huge square tower appeared on the horizon, with a small tower at each corner: this was the fortress that towered over the town of Ienikare.To the south, the end of the Kerch Gulf presents Cape Oblum overlooking the Black Sea coast.Then came the strait with two ends forming "Riman" or Taman Gulf.In the distance is the blurred outline of the Caucasus on the coast of Asia.The strait was evidently like a tributary of the sea, and Van Mittern looked at Ahme with the utmost surprise, knowing his friend Kerabon's dislike of the sea.
Ahme motioned him to be silent.Fortunately, my uncle was still sleeping and didn't see the seawater of the Black Sea and the Sea of Azov mixing in this waterway, which is five to six nautical miles wide at its narrowest point.
"Damn it!" thought Van Mettai.
It is indeed a pity that Master Kelabang was not born a few hundred years later!If he had come to make this trip now, Ahme would not have to worry so much.
As the strait gradually became silted up with sand, it eventually became a narrow channel with fast currents due to the accumulation of shell-containing sand.If Peter the Great's fleet could cross it to encircle the Sea of Azov 150 years ago, today's merchant ships have to wait for the south wind to push the water to a depth of 10 to 12 feet.
However, this is 1882, not 2000, so the hydrogeographic conditions at that time must be accepted.
At this time the carriage had already driven down the slope leading to Ienikare, and the bustard, who was hiding in the tall grass, fluttered in fright.The carriage stopped at the gate of the largest hotel in the town, and Master Kairabang woke up.
"Have we reached the station yet?" he asked.
"Yes! We've arrived at the Ienikare Station," Ahme replied.
Everyone got out of the carriage and went into the hotel, and let the carriage go to the post station.From the post station the wagon was supposed to drive to the ship's pier, where there was a ferry for passengers on foot, on horseback, and in carts, and even crossed the river for desert caravans from Europe to Asia or from Asia to Europe.
In the town of Ienikare, there are all kinds of profitable businesses: salt, sturgeon caviar, fat, wool. Small boats with long-distance sails make short voyages along the straits and nearby coasts.Ienikare has an important strategic position, which is why it was fortified after Russia took it from the Turks in 1771.It is a gateway to the Black Sea.There are two keys to the safety of the Black Sea: one is Ienikare, and the other is Taman.
After resting for half an hour, Master Kairabang motioned for his companions to set off, and they walked towards the pier where the ferry boat was waiting for them.
Kerabong looked east and west at first, then let out an exclamation.
"What's the matter with you, Uncle?" Ahme asked unnaturally.
"Is this a river, this?" Kerabong said, pointing to the strait.
"Yes, it's a river!" Ahme replied, thinking that his uncle should be kept in the dark.
"A river! . . . " cried Bruno.
A gesture from his master made it clear to him not to ask.
"No! It's a..." said Nisib.
He couldn't finish.He was about to describe the hydrology and geography here when his companion, Bruno, interrupted him with a hard elbow.
All the while Lord Kerabong was watching the river that blocked his way.
"It's wide!" he said.
"Indeed...it's very wide...maybe it's been flooded several times!" Ahme replied.
"Flood! . . . caused by the melting of the snow!" added van Mittain, in support of his young friend.
"The snow melts...in September?" Kerabong asked, turning to the Dutchman.
"Perhaps yes... the snow has melted... years of snow... Caucasian snow!" replied Van Metertain, not quite knowing what he was talking about.
"But I don't see a bridge to cross the river!" Kerabong said again.
"Yes, Uncle, there is no more bridge!" Ahme said, turning his hands into a telescope, as if to see the so-called bridge on the so-called river more clearly.
"But there must be a bridge..." said Van Mettaine. "My guidebook mentions a bridge..."
"Oh! Your guidebook mentions a bridge?..." Kerabong asked, frowning, staring at his friend's face.
"Yes...the famous bridge..." the Dutchman stammered. "You know well..... what the ancients called Pontus Axenos..."
"It's so old," Kerabong hissed through his half-closed lips, "it couldn't stand the flood of snowmelt... years of snow..."
"It's from the Caucasus!" Van Mettaine finally added, but he was racking his brains.
Ahme stood a little further away.He didn't know how to answer his uncle, not wanting to start an argument that obviously ended badly.
"Well, nephew," said Kerabong in a dry tone, "how are we going to cross this river when there is no or no bridge?"
"Oh! We can definitely find a place to wade through!" Ahme said casually: "There is only so little water! …"
"Just past the heels!..." The Dutchman chimed in, obviously it was better not to speak.
"Well, Van Mettaine," said Kelabon loudly, "you roll up your trousers and go down to the river, and we'll follow you!"
"But... I..."
"Come on! . . . Roll it up! . . . Roll it up!"
Faithful Bruno thought it necessary to get his master out of trouble.
"It will do no good, Lord Kerabon," he said. "We can get across without getting our feet wet, there's a ferry."
"Oh! There's a ferry?" Kerabong replied. "Fortunately someone thought of putting a ferry on the river ... to replace the broken bridge ... the famous Ouching Bridge! ... Why didn't there be a ferry earlier?—Where is it, where is it?" a ferry?"
"Here it is, Uncle," replied Ahme, pointing to the ferryboat moored to the quay. "Our carriage is already in there!"
"Really! Our car is already in there?"
"Yes, and it's set up!"
"Set it up? Who told you to do this?"
"No one told you to do that, Uncle!" Ahme replied. "The postmaster brought it up himself... that's what he always does..."
"Since there's no bridge anymore, right?"
"Besides, Uncle, there is no other way to go on traveling!"
"There is another way, nephew Ahme! It is to go back and bypass the Sea of Azov from the north!"
"Two hundred kilometers to go, Uncle! What about my wedding? What about the date of the 30th of Ramadan? Did you forget the 30th of Ramadan? …"
"Not at all, nephew! I was back before that date! Come on!"
Ahme was very excited at the moment.Will his uncle carry out the ridiculous plan of walking back?Or instead, would he sit on the ferry and cross the Ienikare Strait?
Lord Kerabon walked to the ferry.Van Mittern, Ahmey, Nisib, and Brunaud followed him, not wanting to give him any pretext for any violent argument that might break out.
Kerabong paused on the pier for a moment, looking around.
His companions stopped.
Kerabong got into the ferry.
His companions followed him in.
Kerabong got into the stagecoach.
Others climbed up too.
The ferry then unmoored and left the pier, being carried by the current to the opposite bank.
Kerabong didn't speak, and everyone was silent.
Fortunately the water was very calm, and the boatmen steered the ferry without difficulty, now using long stalks and now broad oars as the water deepened, but for a while everyone feared that something might happen.
There was indeed a moderate current turning from the southern spit of Taman Bay and caught the ferry sideways.making it possible for it not to land at this promontory, but to be carried into the depths of the bay, which would cover five kilometers instead of one.Lord Kerabong gets impatient easily.Maybe order to go back.
But before embarking, Ahme had said something to the boatmen—the word ruble was repeated several times—so that they maneuvered so deftly that they became masters of the ferry.
So an hour after leaving the pier in the Ienikare Strait, the travelers on horses and carts approached the southern spit, known in Russian as Iuyenaya-Khosa.
The carriage landed smoothly, and the sailors got a handsome sum of rubles.
In the past, this spit formed two islands and a peninsula, that is to say, it was divided into two places by a channel, and it was impossible for a horse-drawn carriage to pass through.But these ditches are now filled, so that the four versts from the Spit to the town of Taman can be crossed in one go.
An hour later, the carriage entered the town, and Master Kerabong looked at his nephew and said only one sentence:
"Obviously, the waters of the Sea of Azov and the Black Sea get along pretty well in the Ienikare Strait!"
And that suffices to say that neither the river of Ahmey's nephew nor the Ouching Bridge of Van Mittain's friend had ever been a problem for him.
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