On one occasion I
captured HALF A BOY (the posterior half) who was hanging with legs
dangling out of the window, his "forlorn-hope" or advance half vainly
endeavouring to obtain a resting-place upon vacuity within (as the fall
slab-table was down). I had no stick; but the toes of his boots had
imprinted first impressions upon the faultless varnish. What became of
that young Cypriote was never known.
Even in Cyprus there are municipal laws, and now that the English are
there they are enforced; therefore my huge van could not remain like a
wad in a gun-barrel, and entirely block the street. A London policeman
would have desired it to "move on" but--this was the real grievance
that I had against Larnaca--the van COULD NOT "MOVE ON," owing to its
extreme height, which interfered with the wooden water-spouts from the
low roofs of the flat-topped houses. This was a case of "real distress."
My van represented civilisation: the water-spouts represented barbarism.
If a London omnibus crowded with outside passengers had attempted to
drive through Larnaca, both driver and passengers would have been swept
into I have not the slightest notion where; and my van was two feet
higher than an omnibus!
I determined that I would avoid all inferior thoroughfares, and that the
van should pass down Wolseley Street, drawn by a number of men who would
be superior in intelligence to the Cypriote mules and be careful in
turning the corners.
I did not see the start, as a person with an "excess of zeal" had
started it with a crowd of madmen without orders, and I was only a late
spectator some hours after its arrival opposite Craddock's Hotel. It
rather resembled a ship that had been in bad weather and in collision
with a few steamers. How many water-spouts it had carried away I never
heard. The fore-axle was broken, as it appeared that in rounding a
corner it had been dragged by main force upon the curbstone about
sixteen inches high, from which it had bumped violently down. It had
then been backed against a water-spout, which had gone completely
through what sailors would term the "stern." One shutter was split in
two pieces, and one window smashed. Altogether, what with bruises,
scratches, broken axle, and other damages, my van looked ten years older
since the morning.
Fortunately among the Europeans who had flocked to Cyprus since the
British occupation was a French blacksmith, whose forge was only a few
yards from Craddock's Hotel, where my wrecked vessel blocked the way. I
had a new fore axle-tree made, and strengthened the hinder axle. I also
fitted a bullock-pole, instead of shafts, for a pair of oxen; the
springs I bound up with iron wire shrunk on while red-hot.
