CHAPTER XVII.
WHEREIN IS RELATED A VERY CURIOUS ADVENTURE, WHICH TERMINATES THE FIRST PART OF THIS HISTORY.
Abkasia is a province by itself in the midst of the Caucasian region, in which only a military jurisdiction prevails. It is bounded on the south by the River Ingour, whose waters form the boundary of Mingrelia, one of the principal divisions of the government of Koutaïs.
It is a beautiful province, one of the richest in the Caucasus, but the prevailing system is not one to display its wealth to the best advantage. The inhabitants have scarcely yet begun to be proprietors of the soil, which belongs almost entirely to the reigning princes, descended from a Persian dynasty. So the native is still in a semi-savage condition, possessing little idea of time, without any written language, and speaking a kind of patois which his next neighbours can scarcely understand; and such a poor patois, too, that it lacks words to express the most elementary idea.
Van Mitten was not slow to remark the great difference which existed between this country and the districts through which he had already passed. On the left of the road were fields of maize, very few of corn; goats and sheep, well tended; oxen, horses, cows wandered at liberty in the meadows; there were fine trees, white poplars, fig-trees, nut-trees, oaks, limes, plane-trees, extensive thickets of box and holly: such is the appearance of Abkasia. As an intrepid traveller—Madame Serena—has remarked, "If one compares the three provinces of Mingrelia, Samourzakan, and Abkasia, one may say that their civilization respectively is in the ratio of the culture of the hills which surround them. Mingrelia, which socially is the foremost, has wooded and cultivated heights; Samourzakan, already behindhand, presents a half-savage aspect; Abkasia, last remains in almost a primitive condition, and has only a line of uncultivated hills, which are at present untouched by manual labour." Such is Abkasia, which, of all the Caucasian districts, will be the last to enjoy the blessings of individual liberty.
The first halt which the travellers made after crossing the frontier was at the village of Gagri, which is a pretty place, possessing a beautiful church, the sacristy of which is used as a cellar; a fort, which is a military hospital; a torrent, which was then dry, named the Gagrinska: the sea is on one side, on the other a fruitful country, planted with fine acacias, and dotted with rose plantations. In the distance extends the boundary chain between Abkasia and Circassia, whose inhabitants, since their defeat by the Russians in the terrible campaign of 1859, have abandoned the beautiful coast.
The chaise, which reached this place at nine o'clock at night, remained till next day. Seigneur Kéraban and his companions slept in one of the doukhans of the village, and quitted it early. At midday, six leagues farther on, Pizunda afforded them a change of horses, and Van Mitten had half an hour to admire the church wherein the patriarchs of the Western Caucasus formerly resided. This edifice, with its brick cupolas, formerly covered with copper, the design of its naves, which followed the shape of the Greek cross, the frescoes on the walls, the façade shaded by elms, is raised to a position amongst the most curious monuments of the Byzantine style of the sixth century.
Then the same day our travellers passed the villages of Goudouati and Gounista: at midnight, after a rapid journey of eighteen leagues, they snatched some repose at Soukhoum-Kalé, which is built upon a wide bay which reaches to the south as far as Cape Kodor.
Soukhoum-Kalé is the principal port of Abkasia; but in the last war in Caucasia the town was partly destroyed. In it there was a motley crowd of Greeks, Armenians, Turks, Russians even in greater numbers than natives. Now the military element is predominant, and the steamers from Odessa or Poti carry numerous visitors to the barracks, built near the ancient fortress, which was erected in the sixteenth century under the rule of Amurah at the time of the Ottoman dominion.
A very Georgian repast, consisting of an acid soup, a kind of chicken broth, a ragout seasoned with acid, saffron-flavoured milk; a repast little appreciated by two Turks and a Dutchman. The party left the town at 9 a.m.
Having passed the pretty little town of Kélasouri, built in the shady valley of Kelassur, the travellers crossed the Kodor twenty-seven versts from Soukhoum-Kalé. The chaise skirted enormous groves of trees which one might compare to virgin forests (with inextricable jungles and thick scrub, penetrable only by water or fire; and in which were swarms of serpents, wolves, bears, and jackals), forming a corner of tropical America planted upon the shore of the Black Sea. But already the axe of the explorer is heard in these forests, which centuries have left untouched; and the beautiful trees will disappear ere long into the framework of houses or ships.
Otchemchiri, the chief place of the district, which includes Kodor and Samourzakan, is an important maritime town situated upon two streams: Ilori, whose Byzantine church is worth seeing, but could not be visited by our travellers, who were pressed for time; Gajida and Anaklifa were all passed during that day's travel, one of the longest and most rapid portions of the journey as regards the time and the pace. But about eleven o'clock in the evening, the travellers reached the frontier of Abkasia, passed the river Ingour, and twenty-five versts farther on stopped at Redout-Kalé, the chief town of Mingrelia, one of the provinces of the government of Koutaïs.
The remainder of the night was passed in sleeping. Tired though he was, Van Mitten rose early with a view to see something before they started again. But he found Ahmet already stirring, though Kéraban was still asleep in the fairly good room which had been assigned him at the principal hotel. "Out of bed already?" said Van Mitten, when he perceived Ahmet. "Is my young friend inclined to join me in a stroll this morning?"
"Have I time for it, M. Van Mitten?" said Ahmet. "Must I not replenish our stores for the journey? We shall soon pass the Russo-Turkish frontier, and it will not be an easy matter to revictual in the deserts of Lazistan and Anatolia. So, you see, I have not a moment to lose."
"But when you have done that," said the Dutchman, "have we not plenty of time?"
"When I have seen to the provisions," replied Ahmet, "I must look to our carriage and get the wheelwright to examine the screws and grease the axles; I must examine the reins and the drag. It will never do to find any repairs are required after we have passed the frontier. I intend to put the chaise in thorough repair, and I depend upon its lasting to the end of this wonderful journey of ours."
"Quite right. But when you have seen to all that?"
"Then I will examine the relays, and I must go to the postmaster to arrange that."
"Very well; but after that?" said Van Mitten, who would not relinquish his idea.
"After that it will be time to start," replied Ahmet, "and we shall be off. So I must leave you."
"One moment, my young friend," said the Dutchman. "Let me ask you a question."
"Speak, but quickly, please, M. Van Mitten."
"You are doubtless aware of what is worth seeing in this province of Mingrelia."
"Pretty well!"
"It is the country watered by the poetic Phasis, whose waters deposited gold dust upon the marble steps of the palaces built upon its banks."
"Quite so."
"Here is the legendary Colchis, where Jason and his Argonauts, assisted by the magician Medea, obtained the Golden Fleece guarded by a formidable dragon, without mentioning the terrible bulls which vomited flame."
"I do not deny it."
"Finally now, in those mountains yonder is the rock of Khomli, overlooking Koutaïs, to which Prometheus was bound, and where the vultures eternally feed upon his entrails, as a punishment for having stolen the bolts of heaven.”
"Nothing is more true, M. Van Mitten, but I repeat I am in a hurry. But what are you coming to?"
"To this, my young friend," replied the Dutchman in his most amiable manner: "several days spent here in this part of Mingrelia, and as far as Koutaïs, would be well spent; and—"
"So you propose that we should remain some days in Redout-Kalé?"
"Oh, four or five days would suffice."
"Would you make that suggestion to my uncle Kéraban?" said Ahmet somewhat maliciously.
"I! Never, my young friend," replied the Dutchman. "It would give rise to a discussion, and since that regretable dispute about the tobacco, I declare I will never enter into an argument with that excellent man again."
"And you will act wisely."
"But at this moment I am not addressing the terrible Kéraban. I am speaking to my young friend Ahmet."
"You are mistaken, M. Van Mitten," said the young man, taking his hand: "you are not speaking to him at this moment."
"To whom then?"
"To the fiancé of Amasia; and you know that he has not an hour to lose."
As he finished speaking, Ahmet hurried away to complete his preparations; and Van Mitten, much disappointed, was obliged to content himself with a promenade of a very unsatisfactory nature in the little town, accompanied by his faithful but discouraging Bruno.
At midday all the travellers were ready to start again. The chaise, which had been carefully examined and repaired, promised to last for many long journeys. The provision-lockers had been replenished, so there was nothing to fear on the score of food for many versts, or rather "agatchs," since the provinces of Asiatic Turkey were to be traversed during the second portion of the journey: but Ahmet might well congratulate himself on having forestalled every eventuality which might arise either in food or in locomotion.
Seigneur was delighted, as he perceived the journey was being accomplished without accident or incident. How his self-love as an "old Turk" would be flattered when he arrived upon the left shore of the Bosphorus, notwithstanding the Ottoman authorities and the tax collectors, it is needless to insist.
Redout-Kalé being only ninety versts from the Turkish frontier, in four-and-twenty hours the most headstrong of Turks might depend upon stepping once more upon Ottoman territory. Then he would be at home.
"En route, nephew," cried Kéraban good-humouredly. "May Allah continue his protection!"
"En route!" said Ahmet.
They took their places, followed by Van Mitten, who in vain endeavoured to find out the mythological peak of the Caucasus on which Prometheus had expiated his crime. The chaise started with much cracking of the whip and neighing of horses.
In an hour the chaise passed the frontier of Gouriel, which since 1801 has been annexed to Mingrelia. Poti is the capital—a considerable port on the Black Sea, whence a railway is laid to Tiflis, the capital of Georgia.
The road ascends gently through and into a fertile country. Here and there are villages or houses scattered amid the fields of maize. The appearance of these structures is curious; they are not built of wood, but of platted straw like basket-work. Van Mitten made a note of this. Indeed there were only these petty details to be noted in the journey across the ancient Colchis. Subsequently, perhaps, he will be more happy when he reaches the banks of the Rion—the river of Poti—the celebrated Phasis of antiquity, which many geographers believe to have been one of the four Rivers of the Garden of Eden.
In another hour the travellers were stopped by the railway which runs from Poti to Tiflis; and which crosses the highway a verst below the Sakario station. They were obliged to cross the line, to reach Poti, by the left bank of the stream. The horses were pulled up at the gate of the level-crossing. The windows of the carriage were down; so Kéraban and his friends could see all that passed. The postillion began to call for the gate-man, who had not put in an appearance.
Kéraban put his head out of his window.
"Are we to lose our time on account of a wretched railway company?" he cried. "Why is the gate closed?"
"No doubt a train is due," said Van Mitten quietly.
"Why is a train due, then?" retorted Kéraban.
The postillion continued to call out, without achieving any result. No one appeared either in the hut or in the garden.
"May Allah choke him!" exclaimed Kéraban. "If he does not come, I will open the gate myself!"
"Calm yourself, uncle," said Ahmet, restraining him, for Kéraban was about to descend from the chaise.
"Calm myself?"
"Yes, here is the gatekeeper."
In fact, the man appeared at that moment and came very leisurely towards the chaise.
"Now then, are we to pass, or not?" exclaimed Kéraban.
"You can pass," replied the man, "the train from Poti will not come up for ten minutes."
"Open your gate, then, and do not delay us needlessly here: we are in a hurry."
"I am going to open it," replied the man.
So saying, he proceeded to open the gate at the opposite side first, and then the gate before which the chaise was waiting; but all deliberately, and with complete indifference to the demands of the travellers.
Kéraban was already boiling over with impatience.
Finally the way was clear, and the chaise began to cross the line.
At this moment, on the opposite side, appeared a party of travellers. A Turkish noble, mounted upon a splendid horse, and attended by four riders as an escort, prepared to cross the line.
This personage was evidently an important individual. He was about thirty-five years old; tall; and comported himself with that peculiar nobility of the Asiatic race. He was good-looking enough; his eyes only sparkled when he was moved by passion. His forehead was bronzed; his beard black, and flowing to his chest; white teeth, and lips which seemed unused to smiling. In fine it was the physiognomy of an imperious man, powerful by position 
Kéraban walked up to the chief cavalier, and put his hand on the horse's bridle.
and fortune, accustomed to have everything he desired, and a man whom opposition would drive to excesses. There was something of the savage in his nature, in which the Turk bordered on the Arab.
This gentleman wore a simple travelling costume cut in the fashion usual with rich Osmanlis, who are more Asiatic than European. No doubt he wished to conceal the fact of his real importance under his sombre cafetan.
Just as the chaise reached the centre of the railway, the riding party also arrived there. Owing to the narrow space between the gates, only the chaise or the riders could pass at a time. One party or the other must give way.
The chaise stopped. So did the cavalcade: but it did not appear that the newcomer was at all inclined to yield to Kéraban. Turk against Turk could hardly fail to bring about some complication.
"Stand aside!" cried Kéraban, as the horses were halted face to face.
"Stand aside yourselves!" replied the newcomer, who seemed determined not to budge an inch.
"I arrived first!"
"Well then you will pass second!"
"I will not give way."
"Neither will I."
Begun in this fashion, the discussion threatened to reach an unpleasant pitch.
"Uncle", said Ahmet, "it will not matter to us—"
"Nephew, it matters very much."
"My friend—" began Van Mitten.
"Leave me alone," replied Kéraban, in a tone which drove the Dutchman into his corner.
Then the gate-keeper cried—
"Make haste, make haste! the train will be here directly, make haste!"
But Kéraban scarcely heard him. Having opened the door of the chaise he got out, followed by Van Mitten and Ahmet, while Bruno and Nizib jumped from the "cabriolet."
Kéraban walked up to the chief cavalier and put his hand on the horse's bridle.
"Will you let me pass?" he cried, with a violence he could not control.
"Never."
"We will soon see that."
"See that?"
"You do not know Kéraban."
"Neither do you know Saffar."
It was, in fact, Seigneur Saffar, who was proceeding to Poti after a rapid journey in the Southern Caucasus. But the name of Saffar, the man who had anticipated the relays at Kertsch, only excited Kéraban still more. To yield to this man, who had already annoyed him—never! He would rather be trampled under his horse's feet.
"Ah, so you are the Seigneur Saffar! Well then, go back, Seigneur Saffar!"
"Forward!" exclaimed Saffar, signing to his men to force their way across.
Ahmet and Van Mitten, feeling assured that nothing would make Kéraban yield, prepared to assist him.
"Pass on, pass on!" cried the gatekeeper. "Here is the train."
At that moment the whistle of the approaching locomotive was heard as it came round the curve.
"Go back!" exclaimed Kéraban.
"Go back!" cried Saffar.
The whistle of the locomotive became more audible and warning in tone. The gate-keeper waved his flag with the intention to stop the train. He was too late. It came round the curve rapidly.
Seigneur Saffar, seeing that he had only just time to excape, retreated quickly. Bruno and Nizib threw themselves aside. Ahmet and Van Mitten, seizing Kéraban, dragged him through; and the postilion, whipping his horses, impelled them outside the rapidly closing gates.
At that moment the express passed. But it struck the hinder portion of the chaise, which it knocked to pieces, and disappeared without the travellers having experienced any injury from the broken part. Seigneur Kéraban, almost beside himself, wanted to throw himself upon his adversary; but the latter, spurring his horse, crossed the line, disdaining even to look at Kéraban; and then, followed by his escort, galloped away on the other road, which followed the right bank of the river.
"The coward! the wretch!" exclaimed Kéraban. "If ever I meet him again!"
"Yes; but meantime we have no longer a post-chaise," said Ahmet, looking at the injured vehicle as it lay in the road.
"That may be, nephew; but nevertheless I passed over first!"
This was Kéraban all over! At that moment, some Cossacks who were charged with the care of the road approached. They had seen all that had occurred.
Their first move was to arrest Kéraban. He protested, and his nephew and Van Mitten vainly interfered. Then came violent resistance from the man who, after breaking the rules of the road, was threatening to complicate matters by resisting lawful authority.
One can no more argue with Cossacks than with gendarmes. It is no use to resist. So Kéraban was carried off to the Sakario station in a towering passion; while Ahmet, Van Mitten, Bruno and Nizib, remained by the damaged vehicle.
"Here is a pretty state of things!" said Van Mitten.
"But what about my uncle?" said Ahmet. "We cannot abandon him!"
Twenty minutes later the train from Tiflis to Poti passed. They looked at it and—
In a compartment appeared the dishevelled head of Kéraban, red with fury, beside himself with rage, and none the less because he, for the first time in his life, had been compelled by the ferocious Cossacks to travel in a train.
But he could not be left alone in such a situation. It was necessary to release him from the consequences of the false step his impetuosity had induced him to take, and not to imperil the return to Scutari, by a delay which might be prolonged.
Leaving the remains of the chaise which was now useless, Ahmet and his companions hired a cart to which the postilion harnessed his horses; and then as rapidly as possible they proceeded to Poti; where they arrived in two hours.
Ahmet and Van Mitten, as soon as they reached the town, went to the police-station with the intention to release Kéraban. There they learned one circumstance which reassured them in a measure, and eased their minds concerning more delay.
Seigneur Kéraban, having been heavily fined for breaking the law and resisting its authority, had been put under the charge of the Cossacks and sent across the frontier.
It was necessary that they should rejoin him as quickly as possible, and with this view they sought to procure means of transport.
As for Saffar, Ahmet made it his business to endeavour to ascertain what had become of him. He had already embarked in the steamer which had quitted Poti for various ports of Asia Minor. But Ahmet could learn nothing concerning this grand personage, and he did not perceive the trail of smoke which hung over the steamer that was carrying the Seigneur Saffar to Trebizond!