A Trip to the Orient Part 1

A Trip to the Orient.

by Robert Urie Jacob.

PREFACE.

"A Trip to the Orient, the Story of a Mediterranean Cruise," by Robert Urie Jacob, has been written at the request of fellow-travelers who did not have time to take notes by the way.

One said, "Do not write a guide book nor a love story, but a simple narrative that will recall the incidents and delightful experiences of the tour." Following these suggestions, but with many misgivings, the author has undertaken and completed the work, a.s.sisted in the editing and proof-reading by Miss Ruth Collins, of the Drexel Inst.i.tute, and by Miss Anna C. Kauffman.

An interesting feature of the book is the large number of ill.u.s.trations made from artistic photographs, all of which have been kindly contributed by amateur photographers. It contains nearly two hundred ill.u.s.trations of views or incidents in Funchal, Granada, Algiers, Malta, Athens, Constantinople, Jerusalem, Cairo, Luxor, Naples, and Nice, reproduced from photographs taken by Mr. L. O. Smith, Rev. G. B.

Burnwood, Mr. Charles Louis Sicarde, Mr. Franklin D. Edmunds, Mr.

Roberts LeBoutellier, Mrs. Charles S. Crosman, Miss M. Florence Pannebaker, Mr. Walter F. Price, Mr. S. L. Schumo, Mr. George C.

Darling, Mr. Howard E. Pepper, Mr. John W. Converse, Mr. C. Edwin Webb, and Mr. Edwin Alban Bailey.

The story was intended specially for voyagers who have visited the same places, but it may be almost equally interesting to those who are planning a similar trip. And those who must stay at home may in these pages be able to look through another's eyes at the places described.

If the book should in any slight way deepen the pleasant memories of those who have made the trip, or if it should give pleasure to those who must picture those scenes only in their imagination, the author will feel that his effort has not been in vain.

CHAPTER I.

ON THE OCEAN.

"Have you decided to go?" inquired my friend. Before us on the table lay an ill.u.s.trated booklet containing the prospectus of a cruise to the Mediterranean. Its contents had been under consideration for some days.

"Yes," I answered, "I will write to-day to secure state room accommodations for our party. Nevertheless I am not quite sure that it is wise to take the trip."

"Why?"

"For two reasons. First, are seventy days long enough to make a cruise of nearly fourteen thousand miles and visit so many places? Second, with five hundred pa.s.sengers will there not be a crowd?"

"Well, those doubts never troubled me. Seventy days is all that can be spared from my business, and much may be seen in that time. As to the number of pa.s.sengers, every steamer carries its full complement. At any rate, you are going, so think no more of your doubts. You will probably forget that you had any."

So it was that at seven o'clock on the morning of the fifth of February, when the steams.h.i.+p Moltke left her dock at New York, we stood among the pa.s.sengers lined along her rail. The hawsers had been cast off, whistles were blowing, and tugs were puffing in their efforts to push and pull the huge vessel into the stream.

At that early hour of a wintry day there was no crowd filling the pier, no sea of faces looking upward, no waving of handkerchiefs and flags, the usual sight when a great liner departs. The wharf, cheerless and dismal, appeared to be almost deserted. Its only occupants were a few scattered onlookers s.h.i.+vering in the cold, and the officials and employees whose duties required their presence. But on the Moltke, in spite of the chill air and the gray morning, all were animated and eager. The band played the "Belle of New York" while the s.h.i.+p was being warped into the stream, and the "American Patrol" while it was steaming down the river. The tourists, alert and expectant, viewed the panorama of the city as the tall buildings were brought into strong relief against the brightening sky, saw Liberty's cap reflect the rays of the rising sun, then watched the incoming steamers, and the forts and lighthouses that seemed to approach and pa.s.s. Just outside of Sandy Hook our pilot with a satchel of letters descended the rope ladder to the waiting tug, and soon afterwards the low-lying sh.o.r.es became dimmer and dimmer until they disappeared from view.

The farewells had been exchanged on the previous day, when the promenade decks and saloons of the steamer were thronged with pa.s.sengers, friends, and curious visitors, and the after-deck was enc.u.mbered with piles of baggage. Then, the tables in the main saloon were filled with boxes of flowers, baskets of fruit, packages of confectionery, and bundles of steamer letters marked to be opened on certain days after sailing.

Before the departure we had met the deck steward and with his a.s.sistance had located our steamer chairs; for in the places then selected the chairs were to remain throughout the long cruise. We had also interviewed the chief steward, had obtained from him a pa.s.senger list, and had arranged that our party should be seated together at one of the side tables in the dining saloon.

[Ill.u.s.tration: AT THE HOUR OF AFTERNOON TEA.]

The pa.s.senger list contained four hundred and fifty-three names. Among these were thirteen preceded by the t.i.tle Reverend, thirteen by Doctor, and a number by military or other t.i.tles of honor. Every state in the Union and several provinces of Canada had representatives on the list.

During the first three days' sailing a storm, which had been predicted as approaching from the west when we left New York, followed but did not overtake us. We could not, however, remain on deck as long as desired, for the wind was chilly and the ocean rough. But each morning, laden with heavy wraps and rugs, we sought our steamer chairs. Then, settled comfortably under the wraps and rugs carefully tucked around us by the attentive steward, we defied the cold for an hour or two and inhaled the invigorating air.

As the vessel made her way southward, the temperature moderated and the sea became smooth. By the time the stormy weather had pa.s.sed, the tourists, accustomed to s.h.i.+p motion and s.h.i.+p life, spent most of their time upon the decks. Then, to increase sociability and make the time pa.s.s pleasantly, self-appointed committees met and laid plans for card parties, lectures, concerts, and dances.

On the fifth night out the southern side of the promenade deck was curtained with awnings, cleared of chairs, decorated with flags and Chinese lanterns, and brilliantly illuminated with cl.u.s.ters of electric lights, for an impromptu dance. Music was furnished by the band, and Father Neptune kindly kept his waves in subjection, although an occasional roll caused some unsteadiness in the movements of the waltzers.

By that time we knew many of our fellow-voyagers. For, as we had similar plans, a common destination, and the same pleasures in antic.i.p.ation, we readily made friends.h.i.+ps. We chatted around the table during the luncheon and dinner hours, took a hand in euchre with men in the smoking room, or a place at whist with the ladies in the music room, and exchanged pleasantries and experiences with our neighbors while occupying the steamer chairs. Friends.h.i.+ps grew rapidly under these favorable conditions. Sometimes chats with new acquaintances which began in a mirthful way changed to talks of a serious kind as some spoken word recalled home and friends left behind, and conversations when prolonged became almost confidential in their character.

One afternoon while we were sipping the tea which had been served, a lady who occupied a chair next ours, said:--"I enjoy so much my hours in the gymnasium. Each morning I take a gallop on the electric horse and get my blood into circulation. The first day I felt rather timid in the saddle when the custodian asked, 'Fast or slow?' so I said, 'Start slow,' but I quickly had him increase the speed, for I'm used to horseback riding."

"We're from Texas, you know," spoke up a young woman sitting close by.

"You should practice riding on the electric camel in preparation for our trip into Egypt," I suggested.

"We have; we've tried all the arm and foot movements and have been thumped on the back, and on the chest, and even on our heads," responded the young woman. "But I wished for a rowing machine. Rowing is my favorite exercise."

"Before we left home we all had many misgivings about this trip,"

remarked the elder sister. "We knew how large these steams.h.i.+ps really are, but yet we had visions of many possible discomforts during so long a journey. We disliked tours in sleeping cars and couldn't realize the difference between traveling in cars and in s.h.i.+ps. But our stateroom here is very cozy with the wardrobes and the racks for our books and our pictures."

"And it seems homelike, too," added the other.

The life on s.h.i.+pboard was to many a novel experience. In the mornings we were roused from our slumbers by the notes of a bugle. The first day when the reveille sounded I looked at my watch. It was a quarter to eight. "Must I get up?" I thought. Then remembering that the breakfast hour was from eight to ten, I closed my eyes. But soon there came a gentle tapping at the door. "Who's there?" I asked. "Your bath is ready, sir." The words were English but the accents were plainly German. That call was more imperative than the bugler's, for I might miss my invigorating salt water dip if I did not quickly respond. After a breakfast of fruit, cereals, chops, and coffee we went to the deck for a tramp. "Ten rounds of the promenade deck make a mile," said my room-mate consulting his pedometer. Then we strolled to the library for books, but the books lay unread in our laps when we were seated in our steamer chairs; for how could our minds be fixed on the story when the real life before us was more interesting? The Professor who was to lecture during the trip stepped by with rapid tread, nodding as he pa.s.sed. The minister from Iowa who was to preach on the Sabbath stopped to exchange greetings, a friend dropped into a vacant chair for a talk.

Then the music stands were set up and the band a.s.sembled around them and for an hour we listened to selections from Wagner and Bach, varied with the martial strains of Sousa or the melodies of Foster. The stewards brought out a table, filled it with dishes, and served bouillon and biscuit, while near by a kodak carrier was snapping a picture.

[Ill.u.s.tration: I. COMFORTABLY SEATED WITH A BOOK.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: II. THE BAND WAS PLAYING CARMEN.]

On the s.h.i.+p there were many places of interest. When in need of exercise we visited the gymnasium on the upper deck, and when desirous of a change in cooking we resorted to the grill room where the white clad cook broiled chops in our sight over a bright fire. Impelled by curiosity, we explored the vacant steerage, and with the chief engineer descended the iron ladder to the depths below to investigate the mysteries of the engine and fire rooms. Sometimes from the breezy fore-deck we scanned the horizon for the s.h.i.+ps that rarely appeared, and sometimes sought a snug corner aft and watched the swift-winged gulls, the quivering log line, the smoke clouds and their shadows, or the widening streak of water disturbed by the revolving screw.

"How rapidly the week has pa.s.sed," said a friend on the evening of the twelfth of February. "Listen! One, two, three, four," as the s.h.i.+p's bell rang out four strokes. "Four bells, that's six o'clock. We have half an hour to dress for dinner."

When we entered the brilliantly illuminated dining saloon that evening a bust of Lincoln was on the platform, and the room was decorated with the American colors. Some one had remembered Lincoln's birthday, though many of the pa.s.sengers had forgotten the date. A picture of Lincoln with the inscription, "In commemoration of President Abraham Lincoln's birthday,"

was engraved on the covers of the souvenir menus. The dinner was an unusually good one, and the seven selections rendered by the orchestra during the courses were appropriate for the day.

After dinner a man who had been personally acquainted with the martyred President delivered an interesting memorial address. His final words had just been said when an announcement was made which caused a thrill of expectancy and sent us hurriedly to the deck: "Land is in sight!"

CHAPTER II.

FUNCHAL.

"That is the island of Madeira," said the captain, pointing to a dark ma.s.s dimly seen against the horizon. "We are now nearly twenty-eight hundred miles southeast of New York."

We had been sailing for seven days with only a vast expanse of ocean in view, and so we longed for a sight of land and eagerly looked forward to the arrival at our first port. As we approached the island the form of a mountain became clear in the star-light; then the twinkling of lights at its base revealed the location of a city. When within half a mile of the sh.o.r.e, the water in the harbor became too shallow for large vessels, so the screw propeller of the Moltke ceased revolving and the s.h.i.+p came to anchor.