There  had  been  no  firing  for  some  time,  and  the  sight
of  rowboats  so  much  nearer  the  scene  of  action  than  Hissar
convinced  me  anew  of  a  false  alarm.  The  Macedonians
had  probably  come  into  town  at  last.  The  Palace  guard
might  very  well  have  made  a  row.  Perhaps  even  the
Sultan  had  been  deposed,  and  had  objected  to  it.  But
how  was  it  possible  that  there  should  be  any  general
fighting?  At  Orta-kyoi,  next  to  the  imperial  suburb  of
Beshiktash,  six  of  us  got  in  to  two  sandals.  We  soon
separated.  The  boat  in  which  I  sat  had  not  gone  far
toward  the  harbour  before  firing  broke  out  again.  There
was  no  doubt  about  it  this  time.  The  crack  of  musketry,
intensely  sharp  and  sinister  in  the  clear  spring  morning,
would  be  followed  by  the  deeper  note  of  a  field-piece.
But  we  could  see  nothing.  The  roofs  of  Yildiz  nestled
serene  as  ever  among  their  embosoming  gardens.  The
imperial  flag  stifl  floated  from  its  accustomed  stafl".  Not
a  cloud,  not  a  puff,  indicated  the  direction  of  the  firing.
