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But here there was another history. The teskeres had not been properly vised at Brousa, and the Governor at first decided to send us back. Taking Francois, however, for a Turk, and finding that we had regularly passed quarantine, he signed them after a delay of an hour and a half, and we left the shore, weary, impatient, and wolfish with twelve hours' fasting.
Finally, Francois, who had been almost in despair at our non-appearance, hailed us with the welcome news that he had engaged a caique, and that our baggage was already embarked. We only needed the vises of the authorities, in order to leave. He took our teskeres to get them, and we went upon the balcony of a coffee-house overhanging the sea, and smoked a narghileh.
A beautiful lake, with an island in it, lay at the foot of Emir Dagh. After two hours we reached a guard-house, where our teskeres were demanded, and the lazy guardsman invited us in to take coffee, that he might establish a right to the backsheesh which he could not demand. He had seen us afar off, and the coffee was smoking in the finjans when we arrived.
Transport for our goods was secured on the first boat to leave, the goods taken to the wharf at Galata, and at the latest moment, in order to give time, a request was made to the government for teskeres, or traveling permits, for Dr. J. B. Hubbell and assistants.
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