Complete Works of Bram Stoker (379 page)

There were other camps for special service, all of them well arranged, and with plenty of facility for transport.  Each of the Federating Monarchs had a camp of his own, in which he had erected a magnificent pavilion.  For the Western King, who had acted as Arbitrator in the matter of the Federation, a veritable palace had been built by King Rupert  —  a sort of Aladdin’s palace it must have been, for only a few weeks ago the place it occupied was, I was told, only primeval wilderness.  King Rupert and his Queen, Teuta, had a pavilion like the rest of the Federators of Balka, but infinitely more modest, both in size and adornments.

Everywhere were guards of the Blue Mountains, armed only with the “handjar,” which is the national weapon.  They wore the national dress, but so arranged in colour and accoutrement that the general air of uniformity took the place of a rigid uniform.  There must have been at least seventy or eighty thousand of them.

The first day was one of investigation of details by the visitors.  During the second day the retinues of the great Federators came.  Some of these retinues were vast.  For instance, the Soldan (though only just become a Federator) sent of one kind or another more than a thousand men.  A brave show they made, for they are fine men, and drilled to perfection.  As they swaggered along, singly or in mass, with their gay jackets and baggy trousers, their helmets surmounted by the golden crescent, they looked a foe not to be despised.  Landreck Martin, the Nestor of journalists, said to me, as we stood together looking at them:

“To-day we witness a new departure in Blue Mountain history.  This is the first occasion for a thousand years that so large a Turkish body has entered the Blue Mountains with a reasonable prospect of ever getting out again.”

July
1, 1909.

To-day, the day appointed for the ceremony, was auspiciously fine, even for the Blue Mountains, where at this time of year the weather is nearly always fine.  They are early folk in the Blue Mountains, but to-day things began to hum before daybreak.  There were bugle-calls all over the place  —  everything here is arranged by calls of musical instruments  —  trumpets, or bugles, or drums (if, indeed, the drum can be called a musical instrument)  —  or by lights, if it be after dark.  We journalists were all ready; coffee and bread-and-butter had been thoughtfully served early in our sleeping-tents, and an elaborate breakfast was going on all the time in the refectory pavilions.  We had a preliminary look round, and then there was a sort of general pause for breakfast.  We took advantage of it, and attacked the sumptuous  —  indeed, memorable  —  meal which was served for us.

The ceremony was to commence at noon, but at ten o’clock the whole place was astir  —  not merely beginning to move, but actually moving; everybody taking their places for the great ceremony.  As noon drew near, the excitement was intense and prolonged.  One by one the various signatories to the Federation began to assemble.  They all came by sea; such of them as had sea-boards of their own having their fleets around them.  Such as had no fleets of their own were attended by at least one of the Blue Mountain ironclads.  And I am bound to say that I never in my life saw more dangerous craft than these little warships of King Rupert of the Blue Mountains.  As they entered the Blue Mouth each ship took her appointed station, those which carried the signatories being close together in an isolated group in a little bay almost surrounded by high cliffs in the farthest recesses of the mighty harbour.  King Rupert’s armoured yacht all the time lay close inshore, hard by the mouth of the Great Tunnel which runs straight into the mountain from a wide plateau, partly natural rock, partly built up with mighty blocks of stone.  Here it is, I am told, that the inland products are brought down to the modern town of Plazac.  Just as the clocks were chiming the half-hour before noon this yacht glided out into the expanse of the “Mouth.”  Behind her came twelve great barges, royally decked, and draped each in the colour of the signatory nation.  On each of these the ruler entered with his guard, and was carried to Rupert’s yacht, he going on the bridge, whilst his suite remained on the lower deck.  In the meantime whole fleets had been appearing on the southern horizon; the nations were sending their maritime quota to the christening of “Balka”!  In such wonderful order as can only be seen with squadrons of fighting ships, the mighty throng swept into the Blue Mouth, and took up their stations in groups.  The only armament of a Great Power now missing was that of the Western King.  But there was time.  Indeed, as the crowd everywhere began to look at their watches a long line of ships began to spread up northward from the Italian coast.  They came at great speed  —  nearly twenty knots.  It was a really wonderful sight  —  fifty of the finest ships in the world; the very latest expression of naval giants, each seemingly typical of its class  —  Dreadnoughts, cruisers, destroyers.  They came in a wedge, with the King’s yacht flying the Royal Standard the apex.  Every ship of the squadron bore a red ensign long enough to float from the masthead to the water.  From the armoured tower in the waterway one could see the myriad of faces  —  white stars on both land and sea  —  for the great harbour was now alive with ships and each and all of them alive with men.

Suddenly, without any direct cause, the white masses became eclipsed  —  everyone had turned round, and was looking the other way.  I looked across the bay and up the mountain behind  —  a mighty mountain, whose slopes run up to the very sky, ridge after ridge seeming like itself a mountain.  Far away on the very top the standard of the Blue Mountains was run up on a mighty Flagstaff which seemed like a shaft of light.  It was two hundred feet high, and painted white, and as at the distance the steel stays were invisible, it towered up in lonely grandeur.  At its foot was a dark mass grouped behind a white space, which I could not make out till I used my field-glasses.

Then I knew it was King Rupert and the Queen in the midst of a group of mountaineers.  They were on the aero station behind the platform of the aero, which seemed to shine  —  shine, not glitter  —  as though it were overlaid with plates of gold.

Again the faces looked west.  The Western Squadron was drawing near to the entrance of the Blue Mouth.  On the bridge of the yacht stood the Western King in uniform of an Admiral, and by him his Queen in a dress of royal purple, splendid with gold.  Another glance at the mountain-top showed that it had seemed to become alive.  A whole park of artillery seemed to have suddenly sprung to life, round each its crew ready for action.  Amongst the group at the foot of the Flagstaff we could distinguish King Rupert; his vast height and bulk stood out from and above all round him.  Close to him was a patch of white, which we understood to be Queen Teuta, whom the Blue Mountaineers simply adore.

By this time the armoured yacht, bearing all the signatories to “Balka” (excepting King Rupert), had moved out towards the entrance, and lay still and silent, waiting the coming of the Royal Arbitrator, whose whole squadron simultaneously slowed down, and hardly drifted in the seething water of their backing engines.

When the flag which was in the yacht’s prow was almost opposite the armoured fort, the Western King held up a roll of vellum handed to him by one of his officers.  We onlookers held our breath, for in an instant was such a scene as we can never hope to see again.

At the raising of the Western King’s hand, a gun was fired away on the top of the mountain where rose the mighty Flagstaff with the standard of the Blue Mountains.  Then came the thunder of salute from the guns, bright flashes and reports, which echoed down the hillsides in never-ending sequence.  At the first gun, by some trick of signalling, the flag of the Federated “Balka” floated out from the top of the Flagstaff, which had been mysteriously raised, and flew above that of the Blue Mountains.

At the same moment the figures of Rupert and Teuta sank; they were taking their places on the aeroplane.  An instant after, like a great golden bird, it seemed to shoot out into the air, and then, dipping its head, dropped downward at an obtuse angle.  We could see the King and Queen from time waist upwards  —  the King in Blue Mountain dress of green; the Queen, wrapped in her white Shroud, holding her baby on her breast.  When far out from the mountain-top and over the Blue Mouth, the wings and tail of the great bird-like machine went up, and the aero dropped like a stone, till it was only some few hundred feet over the water.  Then the wings and tail went down, but with diminishing speed.  Below the expanse of the plane the King and Queen were now seen seated together on the tiny steering platform, which seemed to have been lowered; she sat behind her husband, after the manner of matrons of the Blue Mountains.  That coming of that aeroplane was the most striking episode of all this wonderful day.

After floating for a few seconds, the engines began to work, whilst the planes moved back to their normal with beautiful simultaneity.  There was a golden aero finding its safety in gliding movement.  At the same time the steering platform was rising, so that once more the occupants were not far below, but above the plane.  They were now only about a hundred feet above the water, moving from the far end of the Blue Mouth towards the entrance in the open space between the two lines of the fighting ships of the various nationalities, all of which had by now their yards manned  —  a manoeuvre which had begun at the firing of the first gun on the mountain-top.  As the aero passed along, all the seamen began to cheer  —  a cheering which they kept up till the King and Queen had come so close to the Western King’s vessel that the two Kings and Queens could greet each other.  The wind was now beginning to blow westward from the mountain-top, and it took the sounds towards the armoured fort, so that at moments we could distinguish the cheers of the various nationalities, amongst which, more keen than the others, came the soft “Ban Zai!” of the Japanese.

King Rupert, holding his steering levers, sat like a man of marble.  Behind him his beautiful wife, clad in her Shroud, and holding in her arms the young Crown Prince, seemed like a veritable statue.

The aero, guided by Rupert’s unerring hand, lit softly on the after-deck of the Western King’s yacht; and King Rupert, stepping on deck, lifted from her seat Queen Teuta with her baby in her arms.  It was only when the Blue Mountain King stood amongst other men that one could realise his enormous stature.  He stood literally head and shoulders over every other man present.

Whilst the aeroplane was giving up its burden, the Western King and his Queen were descending from the bridge.  The host and hostess, hand in hand  —  after their usual fashion, as it seems  —  hurried forward to greet their guests.  The meeting was touching in its simplicity.  The two monarchs shook hands, and their consorts, representatives of the foremost types of national beauty of the North and South, instinctively drew close and kissed each other.  Then the hostess Queen, moving towards the Western King, kneeled before him with the gracious obeisance of a Blue Mountain hostess, and kissed his hand.

Her words of greeting were:

“You are welcome, sire, to the Blue Mountains.  We are grateful to you for all you have done for Balka, and to you and Her Majesty for giving us the honour of your presence.”

The King seemed moved.  Accustomed as he was to the ritual of great occasions, the warmth and sincerity, together with the gracious humility of this old Eastern custom, touched him, monarch though he was of a great land and many races in the Far East.  Impulsively he broke through Court ritual, and did a thing which, I have since been told, won for him for ever a holy place in the warm hearts of the Blue Mountaineers.  Sinking on his knee before the beautiful shroud-clad Queen, he raised her hand and kissed it.  The act was seen by all in and around the Blue Mouth, and a mighty cheering rose, which seemed to rise and swell as it ran far and wide up the hillsides, till it faded away on the far-off mountain-top, where rose majestically the mighty Flagstaff bearing the standard of the Balkan Federation.

For myself, I can never forget that wonderful scene of a nation’s enthusiasm, and the core of it is engraven on my memory.  That spotless deck, typical of all that is perfect in naval use; the King and Queen of the greatest nation of the earth   received by the newest King and Queen  —  a King and Queen who won empire for themselves, so that the former subject of another King received him as a brother-monarch on a history-making occasion, when a new world-power was, under his tutelage, springing into existence.  The fair Northern Queen in the arms of the dark Southern Queen with the starry eyes.  The simple splendour of Northern dress arrayed against that of almost peasant plainness of the giant King of the South.  But all were eclipsed  —  even the thousand years of royal lineage of the Western King, Rupert’s natural dower of stature, and the other Queen’s bearing of royal dignity and sweetness  —  by the elemental simplicity of Teuta’s Shroud.  Not one of all that mighty throng but knew something of her wonderful story; and not one but felt glad and proud that such a noble woman had won an empire through her own bravery, even in the jaws of the grave.

The armoured yacht, with the remainder of the signatories to the Balkan Federation, drew close, and the rulers stepped on board to greet the Western King, the Arbitrator, Rupert leaving his task as personal host and joining them.  He took his part modestly in the rear of the group, and made a fresh obeisance in his new capacity.

Presently another warship,
The Balka
, drew close.  It contained the ambassadors of Foreign Powers, and the Chancellors and high officials of the Balkan nations.  It was followed by a fleet of warships, each one representing a Balkan Power.  The great Western fleet lay at their moorings, but with the exception of manning their yards, took no immediate part in the proceedings.

On the deck of the new-comer the Balkan monarchs took their places, the officials of each State grading themselves behind their monarch.  The Ambassadors formed a foremost group by themselves.

Last came the Western King, quite alone (save for the two Queens), bearing in his hand the vellum scroll, the record of his arbitration.  This he proceeded to read, a polyglot copy of it having been already supplied to every Monarch, Ambassador, and official present.  It was a long statement, but the occasion was so stupendous  —  so intense  —  that the time flew by quickly.  The cheering had ceased the moment the Arbitrator opened the scroll, and a veritable silence of the grave abounded.