Chapter XVI

I LEAVE STAMBOUL ON A MISSION EN ROUTE FOR THE FLEET--MEET THE PRINCE'S DELEGATE AT SMYRNA--FREE!--WITH THE ENTENTE FLEET AT MUDROS BEFORE ENTERING THE DARDANELLES

_Smyrna, November 4th._--Thank God! After colossal trouble and planning to bring Jones along, we were allowed to go on the evening of November 3rd, having been delayed just enough to miss the boat of several days earlier--I believe purposely.

Exquisite joy and suspense of that last night! I had seen Gelal Bey recently in Stamboul, and he spoke kindly to me. It brought my terrible Psamatia days back, and I fled. Jones and I arrived at the quay by Galata Bridge in the afternoon with a guard. I got leave to take farewell of de Nari. Before the boat left I was overjoyed to see aboard d'Arici, who had been freed a few days before, and had sought me everywhere. With all his delightful light-heartedness he expressed his profound gratitude for the services I had done him. He gave me advice, very useful, about Rahmi Bey, the prominent ex-Governor of Smyrna, to whom I had a letter from de Nari, and who was leaving by the same boat. A sharp and polished Oriental, he appeared to me, but well equipped with cunning and Eastern dalliance. Ali Bey, who had been sympathetic at my court-martial, was there also to say farewell, and bid me back to Stamboul as soon as possible. We all drank German beer obtained in the saloon at a lira a bottle.

I met Hadkinson the son, of prison memories, having heard much news about his plans from d'Arici. He was also travelling to Smyrna. I procured for Jones and myself a tiny double-berth cabin, where he was permitted to cease playing he was mad, poor fellow! and we had a glorious meal of tinned meats, and cake and tea.

We saw the last of Stamboul from the deck after our affectionate farewells were over, when we had got under way. As the blanket of Night wrapped Stamboul from our view, we saw disappear first the outlines of the great mosques, and then the minarets. It was still too close to watch.... We adjourned to our cabin with a pipe each and a brandy, luxury of luxuries! Jones and I sat side by side on the bunk, listening to the splash of waves outside the porthole. We went on deck. Far away in our wake a few lights flickered upon the waves. It was Stamboul: the City of the Eternities, the Beautiful, the Terrible.

Jones was a philosopher. We were silent, or swore beneath our breath.

I left him to see Rahmi, who had sent me a message. We had a long conversation in French. For some reason he did not want to talk English. He believed Turkey would do best if given great chances. He admitted they were finished. All depended on England. He would assist me in getting away if he could.

Hadkinson and I then made some plans. He was a man of forty, had lived in Smyrna all his life, would also help me to get away, and, in fact, contribute himself to the information I had. He had also got in touch with Satvet Lutfi, the friend and confidential adviser of the Prince Subaheddine, the patron of the Peace and Salvation Society, who was to leave Stamboul in two days' time, and had not already left, as I had heard.

We planned deep into the night, then Jones and I slept.

We awoke lying alongside the jetty among the rocky hills of Panderma. I took Jones on to a train for which we waited an hour or two. He still acted all he could that he was mad, and would, until he got on board, so he said. We got into a crowded carriage, and after a journey lasting all day, reached Smyrna the next morning without mishap from bandits, who had been stopping many trains and holding prominent citizens to ransom. The country was uncultivated, and had been left to run wild. The people remaining were Turks and Greeks. At Smyrna the Dutch Consulate assisted and gave us money. One batch of prisoners had left that morning, and another would leave in two or three days.

Jones and I found apartments along the bay where General Melliss had been. The generals had come straight from Brusa here, and some already had departed. I had got the local operator to repair the wireless station that had been closed down for years. We got into touch with one Commander Heathcote-Smith, formerly Consul at Smyrna, now at Mytilene, and through him we got into communication with the fleet at Mudros. For permission to use this wireless I found de Nari's letter very useful. Mr. Whitall offered me a launch, which, however, would have meant getting to Mytilene, and no further.

The moments of waiting for the reply to our wireless were exquisite. At last, in direct touch with the outside world! Newcombe had been hung up for days here, and had left a few hours only before we arrived. Our wireless answer said that a gunboat was to arrive, and I would then be enabled to get in touch with naval circles direct. That day, Hadkinson invited us out to his father's suburban villa perched high on a hill overlooking a wonderful harbour. One or two officers were here I had known in Kut. They had found their way to Smyrna unassisted in the general chaos.

That afternoon the Monitor 29 entered Smyrna. The once familiar grey of England's Navy--for us a very strange sight indeed--filled us with feelings indescribable. Her two 6-inch guns were elevated. She was spick and span. As the blue uniforms appeared we beheld our first sight as free men. We went on board for a moment. I learned that the captain had very strict instructions that no one was to leave Smyrna without orders. He was there to stand by. He would go to the vacant British Consulate.

I returned at a more leisurely moment, hours later, and in the wardroom had my first respectable whisky. The officers were inordinately kind to all of us, told us news for the twentieth time, and gave us of their best. One of them, a Mr. Underwood, I found knew some friends of mine. He came to dine with Jones and me in the town.

That night a telegram reached us from Constantinople that Satvet Lutfi Bey--the personal friend and secretary of the Prince Subaheddine before the war, during most of which he had been in various prisons, and now hoped to rejoin the Prince and to bring him back as the light of Turkey--would arrive at dawn. Satvet had collected first-rate matters of intelligence from the actual sources, and owing to the duplicity of the police, had got first-hand information of all descriptions.

Before the dawn Hadkinson and I went together to see Lutfi. Our postas we had now shaken off for good. We refused to recognize them. Satvet was a well-bred, well-dressed Turk. His quietness and pale face impressed me. He was a serious and earnest man. We took him along to the Military Governor, who turned out to be Nureddin Pasha, the general who had unsuccessfully tried to take Kut early in the siege. He was delighted to meet me, and delayed a whole queue of Turks and Greeks who were waiting to see him while he described to me what happened on December 25th, 1915. I got his permission to leave the harbour with Satvet. Armed with this I saw Commander Dixon of the Monitor 29 at the Consulate. Dixon was a typical naval officer, physically and mentally robust. He literally pulled me to pieces and my intentions, or as much as he could get out of me, and finally allowed me to send some wireless messages to Mudros, and, if satisfactory replies were forthcoming, to send us there himself. He came to tea with us that night, and told us the reply had come, and that it was fixed that we should leave at dawn in a captured Turkish gunboat manned by officers and crew off the M. 29.

Commander Dixon was a most entertaining and entertainable person. He was delighted to get away from Mudros, which he described as "Fleet, fleet, fleet, with bare hills all around." I was very elated as this was my last night in Turkey. We crowded around the piano and sang glees and songs. I drove back with Dixon to the Consulate to get some directions. As we went along, the town stood at attention, so great was the prestige of the fleet even through this diminutive representative, the monitor.

The scene when the M. 29 entered was one of the greatest enthusiasm imaginable. Crowds jammed the quays and waited there hours. All around the ship the sea was black with boats loaded with people anxious for a glimpse. The Greeks, however, seized the opportunity of getting their own back on the Turk, and made attacks largely unprovoked. They hoisted huge Greek flags over many public buildings, including the hotel where Commander Dixon was staying. This led to blows, and it looked like a general riot.

Dixon, however, with commendable promptness, had a manifesto printed in about six languages, and posted up by daybreak, warning any one against making any demonstrations whatever.

That night Jones assumed partial sanity among some British officers. This was necessary, as some recent prisoners seemed in a hurry to supplant those of long standing. I had tried to take him with me, but this was not permitted. But it was agreed at the Consulate he was to go with the first batch. On this condition I felt my convoy of him was at an end, especially as I was travelling on duty. We had a cheerful last evening, and on our way to the town met some of the officers we had known in Kut, separated from us by years of captivity. Major Harvey, our adjutant, was among them.

Prisoners now began to flock into the town every hour. I was under orders of secrecy, and managed to slip away quietly with Satvet Lutfi. A party of prominent Turkish supporters with him, Hadkinson and I, all lunched together.

Further delay was necessary, as the heavily-mined harbour had been only partially swept, and a few mines had got loose.

We waited on the gunboat till about 4 p.m. Commander Dixon came and wished us good luck, and that I might be found useful to the Staff at Mudros. A brisk and simple good-bye, and we got on board. The officer accompanying us saluted his commander, the engines started, a rope fell, we were under way. I gazed with the intoxication of a mysterious ecstasy at the widening strip of green water between us and the quay, where, in white uniforms, Commander Dixon and his officers and one or two officials of Smyrna waved us good-bye.

* * * * *

The Lieut.-Commander clapped me on the back and asked me to have a drink as a free man on board a British ship. I drank deep and prayerfully!

Later, we went on deck. It was a wintry evening, but the sky was very clear and the harbour magnificent. We followed the golden path westward towards the setting sun. Here and there we saw some sunken ships that had been mined, and others that had been used to block the channels. A small detail was the discovery by our skipper that this old Turkish gunboat had been wrongly described. We drew eight feet instead of six, and mines lay at nine!

Who cared? One would have been free! And that drink!

Satvet Lutfi, immersed in gloom, sat in a heap in the tiny cabin eyeing the coast. I spoke to him. He replied to me very sadly. Pointing to the sunset, he said the sun was setting on Turkey, and he believed one hope only remained. That was his Prince. From politics we passed to his experiences. He located, far away to the south-west, an old stone prison quite alone on the rocks. There he had been a prisoner for years before the war and years during the war.

He told me how he had been intended to die there. They had no water, only a central pool in a dungeon collected from the rain, thick with slime and teeming with insects and worms. There he had got his pale cheeks and left his constitution. And yet, after all his sufferings, he never had hesitated to pronounce what he believed was for the good of Turkey, regardless of cost. I know enough of his history to know he spoke the bare truth. However, his eloquence about ideals for Turkey grew less as, on emerging from the entrance, we entered an increasing swell. A few moments before he had declaimed passionately about the sea, its freedom and beauty. He now became silent, and, like many a better man, evidently felt seasick.

The naval lieutenant and I talked long. The night swallowed us up. I slept on the floor of the cabin. It grew more rough and the wind increased to a steady roar.

At about midnight we reached a point where an armed "Drifter" was waiting to take us further on; but the sea was so rough that we had to stand by until the dawn before we could tranship our small cargo or come alongside.

As it grew light I discovered us to be alongside a North Sea whaler, with a great, rising bow, fast engines, besides mast and sails, and armed with 3-inch guns, anti-aircraft guns, and loaded up with deep-sea charges. The skipper was a very rough but efficient and kind man from North Scotland, who swore lustily at all things. He related interesting experiences about submarines he had got rid of with his last depth charge. The sea grew worse. It was impossible to tranship the cargo, so we proceeded to Mytilene, where we arrived about 8 a.m., and immediately went on board another monitor. Her commander and officers had heard of our coming, and had everything ready--a bath and breakfast. Sweet nectar of the gods this to me! Privilege to meet freely again cheerful and free men, to move about the polished decks, handle a knife and fork once more. I had breakfast on deck. The wardroom amused me. These lonely officers had cut out from home papers various pictures of the _Stage_ and the _Field_. These they had shaved down to the actual figures and pasted on the walls in all kinds of glorious dresses and attitudes. It seemed as if they were all alive and just arrested midway in some pose or movement. My naval friends saw me regarding them in silence.

"Well, what do you think of them?"

"I wasn't thinking, but wishing they were all alive."

Heathcote-Smith, wearing a commander's uniform of the R.N.V.R., came to see me. We had a long talk. He was _au courant_ with local affairs, but much in the dark as regards Stamboul. I answered a good many inquiries of his, and told him a good deal that surprised him. He took a few notes, and thought I should push on at once to the Admiral, which I was under orders to do. Hadkinson stayed here, as he had some important local business to settle, and the delegate and I left in the armed drifter about nine-thirty.

* * * * *

_Mudros, Nov. 15th._--We left the island bay with the monitor scintillating in the wintry sun, and got at once into a heavy swell. I was still among the realities of a dream. As we headed for the open sea, now full of strange, new knowledge of the great things that had been away from us so long, one fact impressed itself in my mind. It was that there was no precise outside information of facts political and otherwise in Turkey, and particularly in Constantinople.

In other words, in my first contact with the outside world I had not known for so long, I began to realize that this world was totally out of touch with the inside (Turkey) from which I had just emerged. I was making for the fleet with a Turkish delegate of good standing, straight and loyal, who had suffered severe imprisonment for his opinions and fidelity to England. This fleet, for the first time for ages, was now unlocking the Middle East, and when it entered the Dardanelles would enter a sea of problems and difficulties--some existing since Islam, some invented and concocted for the occasion. I hoped Satvet and I would be able to be of use. Lutfi became more discursive as we went on, and gave me his files to read and his papers to see. He offered to do all I wanted.

It was terrible weather, and we were both seedy. About dark, however, we reached the entrance of the great harbour of Mudros, heavily boomed and mined. We sped by a lightship, the drifter having only one dim glim at her masthead. One heard submarines were still on the look-out.

It was too dark to see anything except here and there red or green lights at intervals. We went dead slow. The lights grew thicker. Suddenly, on rounding a bend we saw before us thousands of lights, many of them twinkling with the Morse code, messages from ship to ship. They were the lights of the Entente fleet. We were swept by a searchlight, and got into touch with H.M.S. _Europa_, the depôt ship that had called up our wireless at sea, and ordered us to report there. We were taken on board, where we met Captain Pearce, R.N., Commandant of the Base. After some inquiries he communicated with the flagship.

The admiral (Sir Arthur Calthorpe) wanted to see us. We went, accordingly, to H.M.S. _Superb_, a spick and span battleship of the _Temeraire_ class, carrying 12-inch guns. We were taken down to the wardroom to wait a few moments, as Admiral Calthorpe had just got into wireless communication with London on some urgent matters. Here officers swarmed around us. Some asked for news of their friends, a few of whom had been captured in flights from Mudros to Stamboul, or who had been taken down the coast years before. They gave us news of home, and all seemed very keen on getting into Stamboul and rounding up the Turk, as they put it. The while we drank whiskies and soda. They liked Satvet Lutfi, who was quiet and collected in the face of what he called "_Quelle destinée!_"

The admiral sent his flag-lieutenant, saying he was suddenly urgently engaged. I was to go to Admiral Seymour and Captain Burmester, R.N., Chief of Staff. I presented Satvet and his embassy, as I had promised. He spoke indifferent French, which was indifferently understood. I assisted in indifferent French and Turkish. The admiral supplemented his French with English, and Satvet his Turkish with French. He produced letters from many Turks, including the Grand Vizier and from the ex-Ambassador Tewfik Pasha. He wanted permission to go to Switzerland to bring the Prince Subaheddine back, or failing that, to be allowed to meet him in London on the approval of our Foreign Office, or, failing that, permission to make communication to our Foreign Office for transmission to the Prince. Permission for this was necessary from our Foreign Office. Having heard his credentials, the admiral agreed to wire.

Among letters for the Prince Subaheddine is the following from Marshal Izzet Pasha, the last Grand Vizier of Turkey before the fleet entered. It fell to the lot of this patriot and renowned soldier, after the flight of Telaat and Enver, to survey the ruins of the Ottoman Empire.

* * * * *

_Translation._--Letter from the Grand Vizier, Ahmed Izzet
Pasha, to Prince Sabah-ed-Din Bey.

Respectfully submitted:

Under physical and moral suffering, I write to your
Highness from the bed to which I am confined by sickness.
I have obeyed the desire of his Imperial Majesty by accepting
the offer of the Grand Vizierate, in the hope that I may be
able to render some service, however small, to my country, in
the appalling straits into which it has fallen, and to relieve
the painful trials now come upon us. At this time, the
assurance of future existence depends upon whether every
man will labour for the common cause in a spirit of patriotism
and self-sacrifice, with one mind and purpose, and divesting
himself of all personal feeling. Most earnestly I beg for the
favour and support of your Highness, who has so great a
share in the welfare of the country. As for a long while past
you have been in political relations with the statesmen of the
Great Powers of Europe, I trust that you may be able to
render valuable services in that direction. A communication
on this subject will be sent to the Minister at Berne.

The moment that the state of the country is somewhat
more normal, steps will be taken to carry out perfectly
independent elections, and it is hoped that, under God's
favour, we may be successful in forming a Government--no
matter who may be its head--on right lines and of a natural
character.

Again assuring your Highness of my entire devotion and
loyal friendship, I have, etc.

(_Signed_) AHMED IZZET.
4th November, 1918.

On being asked why it was so necessary that the Prince should return, the Turk became most illuminative. The admiral and his Chief of Staff were most interested, and heard some startling information. Satvet told them of the hopeless chaos politically, and how the Prince would unite enough parties to form a strong, reconstructive Government. He explained such a Government would be most useful to the Allies, that unless Stamboul politics were rescued from the adventurers who had manoeuvred themselves even into the new Cabinet, the Allies would find that nothing short of a great army would keep Stamboul. Captain Burmester, R.N., a most penetrating questioner, cross-examined Satvet, and made some notes. The admiral promised to wire London.

Useful as was the information that was forthcoming, I do not think half the available use was made of Satvet's possibilities. Matters of intelligence concerning plots, flooding of mines, issue of false notes, and German spies were really much less important than the gambits of political tricksters. Afterwards, I had a talk with Captain Burmester, and gave him some details of the intelligence I had collected, and of some which had been added by Satvet. It included the circulation of false issues of notes, the plot to deposit fresh mines in the Dardanelles and Bosphorus from vessels, the intended flooding of the Aregli coal mine and others near the Black Sea, the removal of property by the Germans still in Stamboul, above all, the secret machinations of the U. and P. for a pan-Islam propaganda in Egypt, Palestine, India, Mesopotamia, Persia, and their machinations with Bolshevism. The latter, incredible as it may seem, was quite true, and could be located in various committees and agencies of U. and P.

Russia, it is true, has always been, and is still, the eternal _bête noir_ and dread of the Ottomans; but certain of their political tricksters hope, by a spread of the Bolshevik contagion, to undo the victory of the Allies. The world is tired. If Russia and Central Europe and the Ottomans require not only to be beaten in the field, but to be conquered and subdued, is there the wherewithal to do it in the Entente? Whether the success of Russia would mean the annexation of Turkey the Turks would, they say, ignore, for Turkey is very deep in the mud; just as Enver, Midhat and Co. ignored the fact that the success of Germany meant the ultimate erasion of Turkey.

The gambit of Italy in requiring the Adalia coast without much justification, the gambit of forcing the issue about Smyrna and the Levant by Greece, the so-called competition between England, France, and America for the economic control of the Dardanelles, make the situation ripe with possibilities of intrigue. To solve the Turkish problem, in my opinion, it would be necessary to give first place to it, to treat it as a single issue. It is a situation that cannot admit of compromise. America is rumoured as being out to capture the trade resources of the Black Sea empires, in so far as it leaves her Monroe doctrine intact, which seems to mean privileges without duties. The French are not so popular as they were, although French traditional popularity is reviving in Constantinople just now. And most Turks are convinced that an international policy of Stamboul would be impracticable. It would go to the nation with most trade, the biggest fleet of warships and mercantile marine, _i.e._ England or America. If _not_ internationalized, the financial basis, which is mostly French, would give France the lead. But while this process of "becoming" goes on, Turkey will be left to her own devices with direful results to the world.

The admiral and his Chief of Staff were most kind to me, and, busy as they were, found time to inquire about our captivity. General Townshend had been through just before. I was asked to see the Director of Naval Intelligence, Colonel Temple, on shore, whither I went with Satvet, after enjoying some conversation and drinks provided for us by the "Flag," whom the admiral ordered to take us to the wardroom for some refreshment, of which mine was chiefly whisky, and Satvet's port. He kept looking around at the excellent furnishings, and saying "_quelle destinée!_"

Every one was busy, and the fleet was evidently sailing very soon. We went ashore to some naval officers' quarters, where a most excellent mess, full of all good fellows and good things, entertained us. I had very little kit, and was short of blankets. My tiny room was very cold, but we borrowed what we wanted. Officers crowded around us in the mess, and asked us questions. It was, however, very late, but I didn't go to bed until I had arranged a room for Satvet. My room I shared with a war correspondent from London, who was much on the _qui vive_ for news. I told him very little, and ordered Satvet not to speak to him except in my presence. This correspondent was very grateful for such news as we had to give, and by permission I drafted for him the first cable concerning Stamboul, for the Associated Press, which duly passed the censor. He gave me much news of home, and wanted my experiences, which I didn't care to say much about just then. I remember that my first night on shore, outside Turkey, was so cold that I couldn't sleep very well in my tiny bunk. The next day I inspected the harbour and surrounding hills, where circular marks left on the black hillsides showed the site of the great camp of New Zealanders and Australians for the Gallipoli operations.

The giant fleet, including over forty first-class fighting ships alone, lay silent and still below me. One distinguished the peculiar turrets of the American ships, the line of the Italian, and two big clumsy Greek cruisers. One's feelings of thankfulness of release were overwhelming. The vast assembly of ships stood for victory; but they were also invested to a great degree with a fascinating political significance that only one versed in Stamboul intrigue during the war could appreciate. Here was I with a long pilgrimage of loneliness, forced inaction, suffering, and sickness behind me, at last free. Yet, instead of rushing away home by the first boat, I found myself content to wait here at the door of the Dardanelles, fascinated with the phenomenon of the Iron Key about to open the gate of Constantine. Released from the perpetual convoy of postas, and paralysis, mental and physical, that is consequent on captivity, one might imagine I would be eager to look only forward. And yet, even before being re-introduced to the old world, I found myself taking an all-absorbing interest in the problem that I had just left behind.

That morning I made another long report to Colonel Temple, who was supervising Naval Intelligence, and I gave him the piecemeal information he sought, to the best of my ability. Enver and Telaat had left for Germany. A double of the former had cleverly put quite a number off the scent. Many Turkish officials who were to meet the fleet and accuse the U. and P. as the source of the downfall of Turkey, were themselves sleeping partners of the U. and P. opposition to the Entente that had continued the murder of Armenians, sheltering of spies, even refusal to say who and where were the chief delinquents. This was all proceeding apace, _sub rosa_. From what I had seen in Stamboul just before leaving, I thought the Turks there preparing for the arrival of the fleet much like a very naughty lower fourth form at school, hatching all kinds of devilries for the arrival of their new master.

Satvet and I had lunch in H.M.S. _Europa_ with Captain Pearce, who was exceedingly kind to us, and very sympathetic with Satvet's impatience in awaiting the reply cable from the Foreign Office. It was a very cheerful meal, and even Satvet bucked up, and eventually said he would hand over to me his embassy and all his papers if it would help the fleet to find out who was who.

Colonel Temple sent for me that night and afterwards had another interview with Satvet for Intelligence. He then kindly wrote me a letter saying I was proceeding home on urgent political matters, and immediate passage was requested. He asked with a smile if I would care to return to Stamboul with the fleet. I found that prospect, however, rather too exacting, and, besides, I seemed to promise more usefulness by going home at once. He informed me confidentially that the fleet would sail that night for Constantinople, and was very anxious to know what was the feeling there about the Greeks. At Smyrna the Greeks had certainly sought to make trouble, what with their gigantic Greek flags and public demonstration.

That night the gigantic fleet prepared to move. In the early dawn of the 12th one heard answering signals. Their lights moved out to sea. When we awoke not a sign was to be seen of them. Only H.M.S. _Europa_ and a few dozen gunboats, with a cruiser or two, and some old ships remained. The next day there was still no reply. I went out to dine with the officers of the Air Force, which was very strongly represented there. They were very eager to hear an account of their recent bombing raids on Stamboul. All the machines had flown from here. Afterwards I saw some of the wonderful developments in the plane of modern war. That evening some ships arrived from Dedogatch, and I heard much of the preparations for landing here in case the Turks further delayed surrender. And heavily as the place is fortified there is no doubt but that we could easily land and, with a march or two, cut off the Gallipoli peninsula, so depleted are the Turkish forces.

On the 13th Satvet went sick and was removed to a hospital boat. He sent in a short letter in French to the Grand Vizier, explaining how he had been held up. The next day he was better and got discharged. He was chafing about the delay of his embassy to the Prince. I now got a room for us both. There had been a tremendous amount of influenza in the fleet and I was not certain I hadn't got it myself.

I got permission for him to wire the Commander-in-Chief of the fleet in Stamboul for immediate leave, either to come to London or to return to Stamboul. In the meantime we made ourselves useful to Captain Pearce, now S.N.O.A., who requested us to visit a large camp of Turkish prisoners. Their work was to paint and clean the fleet with a host of other minor fatigues. They wanted to return to Turkey, as English prisoners, they said, were returning home. They wouldn't work, so we harangued them, and Satvet told them plainly what a state their country was in, how short of food the capital was, and what was more, how they had been betrayed. They were sullen but ultimately agreed to work for a time. They certainly looked fighting fit and fat, and well-clothed. I couldn't help comparing their lot with that of our own poor fellows. Satvet then communicated with Tewfik Pasha, who now replaced Izzet Pasha as Grand Vizier, informing him that he had handed over to me the letters from Izzet Pasha for our Foreign Office, and for the Prince, and letters from a score or so of leading men in Stamboul to the Prince with other matters for the perusal of our Foreign Office and wrote that he would return to Stamboul. A telegram from the Foreign Office confirmed this.