Evening star., 1925-05-10
BY MAJ. FRANCIS YEAT-BROWN.

"HE dark ages are still mat
ter of actuality in the dark
dungeons of ConStantinople.
i Condemned to imprisonment
for attempting to escape, !
was informed that | would not oe
treated as an officer prisoner. but
would be sent underground among the
criminals. because a forged passport
had been found on my person
A dog collar policeman took me
down a gloomy stairway. Dog-co
men are policemen, pussyfoots and
moral censorS in one-very important
individuals. They wear a brass col
lar on which the word 'Quanun Is
written, meaning law.
Summoning my courage for 1t was
a old-blooded proposition to dicker
with a man breast-plated in righteous
ness) I said to the minion of the law
Il would pay ten Turkish pounds
for another chance to see the com
mandant.'
''Pekke, effendim, pekke," said my
guardian, which may be freely trans
lated "Well, what do you know about
that?"
II might go to Is pounds If l
could get a note to the Netherla nds
legation" hazarded further.
"Yok, yok," said the minion Of the
law severely, they will put you In
chains If you try that"
We were underground now. At the
far end of the passage / heard the
cries of a man being bastinadoed.
Later, the sound and sight of this
punishment did not worry me at all.
but this first time I heard a man
beaten in prison it surely did sound
unpleasant.
l was feeling faint incidentally, 1
had not eaten since the night before
and 1t was then 4 o'clock in the after
noon) when we arrived at a great iron
gate, lit by a Pickering cresset. The
jailor fiddled with the paddock (no
Turk can use a key easily and I
stood there forlorn and utterly spent
outside the inferno of the damned
However, the gate soon changed be-
hind me, and 1 found myself in a
room full of human beings, some of
them almost indistinguishable in the
semi-darkness, but easily perceptible
to the nose.
Men crowded around, talking in
comprehensibly, gesticulating, ges
ticulating. Quickly 1 realized my
pockets were being searched by about
three people at once.
I put my head down and dived
through the crowd to a small barred
window which admitted a shaft of
light from the garden some 10 feet
above. Not that l minded my pock-
cts being picked, for property l had
none in places accessible to the nimble
fingers of my friends, but merely in
order to get some fresh air.
Yes, this was even worse than I
Imagined captivity could be. After
three days at the central criminal
Jail, where 1 had had a cubicle to my
self. this filthy den really frightened
me. One can bear a lot If one keeps
self-respect. But could 1 here? 1
suppose Daniel did, in the lions den.
x X X
I HAVE sung with sailors in the
L marble boats of the Medit ezra
mean, who drink their Chianti without
swallowing and know no use for
water. 1 have swapped stories with
tribesmen of the northwest frontier of
India while they smoked hemp
spent pleasant hours travelling third
class on the continent of Europe. But
these fellows knew neither smiles nor
soap.
They were half-naked, half starved,
entirely sullen. Some were barefoot.
The floor was slippery with unname-
able things. Although not exactly
"dolled up" myself. being still in my
disguise as a mechanic, I felt as a
Sunday school teacher would feel in
a monkey house, or a Pekinese
among coyotes.
Fat rats, the biggest 1 have ever
seen and tame as the squirrels in
Central Park, New York, were
scurrying about among tomato skins
and crusts. They looked better fed
than the prisoners, and cleaner too.
80 you are in for forgery" said
an Armenian boy to me. He was a
hooked-nose, effeminate lad, with no
more morals than a monkey, by the
way, and was rather Stunned by the
other prisoners because he stole their
tomatoes. Now, is forgery an easy