“It is a case of distance lending enchantment to the view,” Miller laughed; “our illusions are gone.”
“Never mind, we must make the best of them, Miller; they are not Greeks, but at any rate they are all that is left of the Greeks. Their actions show that their Christianity is a sham, but at the same time they are an intelligent race capable of some day becoming a great people again, and they are struggling to throw off the yoke of a race intellectually their inferiors and incapable of progress in any sort of way. That is what my father said to me as we were walking up and down the deck this morning. That is the light I mean to look at it in the future. It is a capable people struggling with an incapable one, and if they are savage and vindictive and debased it is the faults not of themselves but of those who have so long been their masters.”
“Good,” Martyn said; “that is the most satisfactory view of the thing, and we will stick to it and shut our ears as much as possible in future against all stories to the Greeks’ disadvantage.”
In the afternoon a fleet of vessels were seen standing out from the land.
“There is one of the Greek fleets,” Captain Martyn said. “Now we will try her rate of sailing with them. Stand on for a little bit longer and then haul her wind on the same tack they are sailing.”
The trial was perfectly satisfactory. By nightfall the Greek fleet were far behind, and the Misericordia again shaped her course for Cyprus. For a week they cruised backwards and forwards under easy sail about midway between Cyprus and Alexandria, without meeting with a single craft flying the Turkish flag. Half a dozen vessels were overhauled, but these were all Austrian, Italian, or British. The appearance of the schooner evidently excited profound distrust in the minds of the masters of all these vessels, for they all hoisted every rag of sail they could set and did their best to escape from her, but Captain Martyn had no difficulty in overhauling them and satisfying himself of their nationality. The astonishment of the masters when the smart gig manned by six English sailors rowed alongside was unbounded, and was only equalled by their satisfaction.
“You have given us a nice fright,” the master of one of the English ships said to Miller, who, accompanied by Horace, had boarded him. “What on earth are you flying that Greek flag for? We took you for a pirate, for half these fellows are no better when they get the chance.”
“We are a Greek privateer.” Miller said, “and carry letters of marque issued by the Greek government. We only wanted to assure ourselves that you were not Turks.”
“Turks be jiggered!” the master said angrily. “I should have thought anyone with half an eye could have seen that we weren’t one of those lubberly Turks.”
“Quite so, captain, we made that out some time ago, and we have only overhauled you to ask whether you know of a Turkish ship likely to be sailing from any of the Eastern ports. Our object is to rescue Greek women and children on their way to the slave-markets.”
“Then give us your flipper,” the master said; “that is a business an English sailor needn’t be ashamed of, though, as for sailing under a Greek flag, I would almost as lief sail under the skull and cross-bones, for nine cases out of ten it means pretty nearly the same thing. I have known many a ship sail in among those Greek islands and never be heard of again when there had been no storm to account for her disappearance. I would as lief anchor a ship near land in the Malay Archipelago as among the Greek islands. Still the women and children ain’t to blame for that. I was at Broussa two months ago and the slave-market was chock-full of Greek girls and children, and I thought then what a burning shame it was that Europe didn’t interfere to put down such villainous doings. Well now, as to Turkish ships, I don’t think you are likely to meet with any hereabouts. The Greeks have given them a bad scare, and I fancy that all the ships from Cyprus and from Aleppo and the other Syrian ports will run down due south till they sight land, and will hug that as near as they dare go till they get within shelter of the batteries of Alexandria. If you are after Turkish vessels you must stand south and anchor as close inland as the water will let you. Get down those lofty spars of yours. You don’t want them. That craft of yours sails like a witch. We think the Scarborough is a fast brig. You went through the water three feet to our two, so you can do without your topsails. I can tell you the look of your craft is enough to frighten one fifteen miles away; a more rascally-looking vessel I never saw, she looks like a pirate all over.”
“She was a slaver at one time,” Miller said.
“Ah! that accounts for it. I thought that long low hull and those lofty spars were never put together for an honest purpose. You seem to carry mighty heavy metal,” he went on, looking at the Misericordia, which lay with her head sails aback a few hundred yards away. “Four each side and a pivot; they look like eighteens.”
“They are eighteens,” Miller said. “You see we have got to keep a sharp eye on friends as well as foes.”
“I should think so. Well, I have just come out from Larnaca. I heard from our consul that there were bad doings in the north of the island, and that the Christians were having a very rough time of it all through Cyprus. I have no doubt there are a lot of Christians hiding there who would give every stiver they have got in the world to be on board this craft.”
“And you say there were some massacres going on when you were there?”
“Yes, and I heard that the Turks were attacking one of the Christian villages on the north-western corner of the island. It was some way up on Mount Olympus, a few miles from the coast. Morphou Bay is the nearest point to it. I hear it is naturally a strong place, and Christians from other villages round have gone in there. The people attacking it are not troops, who I fancy have nothing to do with these massacres, but the natives of the Mussulman villages. Some of the poor devils may have got down to the coast, and you might pick some up if you were to cruise along there.”
“Perhaps we might,” Horace said; “at any rate it would be worth a try. We will go on board again at once.”
“Will you have a glass of wine first? I got hold of some good stuff at Larnaca. Good wine is cheap there now.”
“No, thank you, we will be off at once,” Miller said.
“Well, good-bye, gentlemen, and good luck to you! There is nothing I would like better than to be going for a cruise with you for a few months, for no vessel can do better work than that which you are engaged on.”
Miller and Horace dropped down into their boat, and were rowed back to the schooner.
AS soon as they gained the deck of the Misericordia Miller reported the advice the skipper of the English brig had given as to their taking their station near the southern coast, to pick up vessels hugging the shore on their way to Alexandria and the west.
“I have no doubt he is right,” Will Martyn said; “that accounts for our not having seen a single craft flying the Turkish flag. Well, Mr. Beveridge, I think we can’t do better than take his advice.”
“There is something else though,” Horace broke in; and he then told them what the captain had said about the fighting among the villagers on Mount Olympus.
“Don’t you think, father, we might go there first? With this wind we should not be much more than twenty-four hours getting there, and we might pick up a lot of fugitives in hiding and possibly bring off the people from that village. It would not be a great loss of time anyhow.”
“I think we might, Horace; hearing of it in the way you did, it seems almost like a call to help them. What do you say, Captain Martyn?”
“Just as you like, sir. As Horace says, it is no great loss of time anyhow, and we certainly may do some good.”
The order was given and the schooner was headed for Cyprus with a brisk wind on her beam that heeled her well over and sent her through the water at nine and a half knots an hour. The news was soon known through the vessel that there were massacres going on in Cyprus, and that there might be some work to be done, so there was an air of increased activity and animation among the crew. The wind held steadily, and next morning the mountains of Cyprus could be seen lying like a cloud in the distance, and by eleven o’clock the north-westerly point of the island was but five or six miles away. Rounding the point they entered the great indentation known as Morphou Bay. Martyn now ordered the topsails to be lowered.
“We will run along about a mile off shore,” he said; “they can make out the flag then. We will go along as far as the other end of the bay and then come back again. If there are any people in hiding in the woods they will keep an eye on us, and as we come back will come off in boats if they have got them, or will come down to the shore and signal. We can send our boats in for them.”
As they were still going through the water faster than they wished the foresail was also lowered, and they then went quietly along the coast, keeping a sharp look-out with their glasses on the shore. They passed several villages and could see that their appearance created much excitement, and that the population at once deserted their houses and made off.
“They are evidently all Mussulman villages,” Mr. Beveridge said.
“They are Mussulman villages at present, Mr. Beveridge,” Martyn agreed, “but the chances are they were Christian a short time ago. You see they have all got fishing boats either riding at anchor or hauled up, and I fancy that most of the fishing is done by the Greek inhabitants. I expect the Turks have cleared them out. What do you say, Mr. Beveridge, to our firing a shot or two at each of the villages as we pass? That will act as a warning to the Turks to keep out of range. If there are any Christians left they may take the opportunity of seizing the boats and coming off. We might lie-to for half an hour opposite each village to give them a chance of doing so.”
“That would be a very good plan, I think, Captain Martyn.”
As they were passing a village at the moment the Misericordia was at once brought round. Two of the broadside guns were loaded, and two shots were sent over the village. Then the craft was hove-to, and waited for half an hour. As there were no signs of life, she again proceeded on her way. Three more villages were fired at with the same result. Half a mile beyond the furthest Tarleton exclaimed: “There is someone swimming off, Captain Martyn; he has just put off from that point! There, do you see that black spot a little way off the point?”
Martyn turned his glass in that direction. “I see him,” he said. “Lower the small gig, Mr. Tarleton; take four hands, row off, and pick him up. You had better go too, Horace. The chances are he won’t speak anything but Greek.”
In a couple of minutes the boat left the side of the schooner and rowed in the direction of the swimmer, the vessel being again thrown up into the wind. Horace stood up while Tarleton took the tiller lines.
“Can you see him, Horace?” he asked.
“No, not yet. There is too much ripple on; but if you keep her head as it is now I shall make him out before long.” Three or four minutes later he exclaimed: “I see him, he is dead ahead!”
Five minutes later the swimmer was alongside. He was a lad of about Horace’s age.
“Are you Greek?” he asked in surprise and in some alarm, as he looked at the uniforms of the crew as Horace helped him on board.
“We are fighting for Greece,” Horace said, “although we are all English. We heard that there was some trouble here, and came to see if we could save any fugitives.”
“I saw the flag,” the lad said, “and heard you fire twice at the village. My mother and sisters, and twenty or thirty others, are hidden in the wood there. The Mussulmans came down from the mountain villages three days ago and killed all they could find; but we were expecting it, for they had gone to the next village first, and a man from there brought the news just before they arrived. We lived on the outskirts and had time to get away, but I think my father and brothers have been killed. Do go on shore and take them off.”
“We must go back to the ship first,” Horace said. “This boat is too small to be of any use; besides, we must send a stronger crew. No doubt the Turks are watching us, and will come down if they see us landing.”
The schooner had filled again and was following the boat, so that in two or three minutes they were on board. Horace lent the young Greek some of his clothes, and the schooner stood in towards the point, with a man in the chains sounding as they went.
“Ask him whereabouts they are, Horace.”
“Just on the other side of the point; but they will see us coming.”
“I see no signs of them yet,” Tarleton said when, having got within three hundred yards of shore, the anchor was let go.
“It is likely enough,” said Martyn, “that some of the Turks may have been coming down through the wood, and if the poor beggars heard them they would not dare show themselves. Now, Mr. Miller, you take charge of the long-boat with ten men. We will cover your landing.”
The four broadside guns were loaded with grape, and their crews mustered to quarters, while the rest, armed with muskets, lined the side.
“Take the boy with you, Mr. Miller, he can lead you to where his friends are hiding. Don’t stop to fire as you make for shore. We will dispose of any Turks there may be about.”
The boat had not rowed more than fifty yards before five or six musket shots were fired from the bushes near the edge of the water.
“Give them a round with the aftermost gun,” Captain Martyn said; and in a moment the water near the bushes was torn up with a shower of grape. “Give the next gun more elevation, boatswain. Send the shot well into the wood. That’s it. The same with the other two guns. That will clear them all out.”
There was no further firing at the boat. As soon as it touched the shore Miller jumped ashore with eight of the men, while the other two pushed the boat off a few yards. Led by the Greek boy, the party ran along the shore and were lost to view round the point. Two more rounds were fired into the wood, but everything was quiet there, and in five minutes Miller’s party made their appearance round the point with a number of fugitives. No time was lost in getting them into the boat, which at once rowed off to the schooner. There were but three men among them, the rest were women and children. Most of them were completely exhausted.
“GIVE THEM A ROUND,” SAID CAPTAIN MARTYN
Horace, after asking them a question or two, said to Zaimes: “You had better prepare some soup, Zaimes, as quickly as you can. They have had nothing to eat for three days.”
While this was being done, a sip of wine and a mouthful of bread were given to each. In the meantime some sailors were rigging up a partition with sail-cloth across the main deck, and here hammocks were slung for the use of the women and children. As soon as the poor creatures had taken a basin of hot soup they revived a good deal and poured out expressions of profuse gratitude to their rescuers. They had passed a terrible three days crouching among the bushes, and expecting every moment to be discovered. A few of the women had snatched up their jewels before taking to flight, but most of them were absolutely destitute. Mr. Beveridge and the two Greeks persuaded them to go below and take the sleep they so much needed. As soon as the deck was clear the anchor was got up, and the schooner proceeded on her way. She reached the farthest headland of the bay just as night began to fall, and Martyn decided to anchor there till morning. From the Greek lad who had first swum off, they learned that the village among the mountains still resisted.
“They say there are two or three hundred there who have taken refuge from the villages round. There are some rich men among them, and that is the reason why the Mussulmans are so anxious to take the place.”
“How many men are besieging it?”
“That I don’t know,” the boy replied. “I should think four or five hundred.”
“But you have heard nothing for the last three days? The place may have fallen since then.”
“No, I went last night to the village in hopes of finding bread in some of the houses, but there were too many Turks about. I was near enough to hear them talking. Some of them were going up to-day to join in the siege.”
“How far is the place from the sea?”
“It is ten miles from this north shore, but it is not more than four or five from the western coast.”
“Is there any road?”
“Not from that side. The roads from the mountain villages all lead down to the bay.”
“Is it too steep to climb from the other side?”
“Not too steep to climb on foot. Donkeys and mules could get up there.”
The matter was talked over in the cabin that evening, and it was agreed that if a guide could be obtained an attempt should be made to carry off the occupants of the village. During the night a boat with twelve fugitives came off from the shore and as the Misericordia sailed slowly along the coast on the following day several parties of from three to ten people came out from the trees and waved white handkerchiefs and scarfs. All these were brought off, and four or five boats full of people were picked up during the day. Their occupants had seen the schooner passing on the previous day, and had at night, when the Mussulmans in the village were asleep, stolen down to the beach, launched boats, and put out to sea in the hope that the schooner would return next day. All were overwhelmed with joy at finding themselves under the Greek flag, although the greater portion of them had lost everything they possessed. The women and children were, like the first batch, provided for below, while the men and boys were told they must sleep on deck, which was no hardship in that balmy climate.
Among those in the last boat picked up near the west point of the bay was a young man who was a native of a village lying a short distance from the one that was besieged. He happened to be down in the coast village when the Turks commenced hostilities there, and hearing that the village to which he belonged had been destroyed, he had remained in hiding near the coast. Marco and his brother, who mingled with the fugitives, had learned this, and at once took the news to the cabin. “He says he has been a goat-herd, and knows all the paths among the mountains.”
“Then he is the very fellow we want to get hold of,” Will Martyn said. “We had better have him in here and question him.”
The young Greek was brought in. He knew of several paths from the village down to the western shore.
“Now what sort of place is this village?” Captain Martyn asked.
“It stands at the top of rocky ground that slopes away all round it. There are vineyards and gardens among the rocks. Since the trouble in Greece began, the people have been frightened, and have built a wall five or six feet high round the village, and the Christians in all the villages round decided that if there was trouble from the Mussulmans they would go there to help defend it.”
“Is there high ground round the village?”
“Yes, the hills rise very high on three sides, but they are too far away for guns to do much harm; besides, the houses stand thickly together. My people will fight till the last, but I don’t know how long the provisions will last. I know they all made up their minds that if they were besieged and saw no hope of succour, they would at last kill all the women and children to prevent their being made slaves by the Turks, and then they would march out to fight until the last man was slain.”
“How long would it take us to get up from the shore to the village?”
“One can come down in an hour, but it takes three hours’ hard work to get up.”
“Could you after dark take us close to the point where one of these paths comes down to the shore?”
“Oh, yes, I could do that easily.”
“Very well, that will do for the present. Now, Mr. Beveridge, it is for you to decide,” Martyn said. “Of course the affair is a risky one; but it seems to me that forty well-armed English sailors ought to be able to make their way into the village without very much difficulty, for of course the Turks will be scattered about all round it. The difficulty is not in getting in, but in getting out. We should have to bring perhaps two or three hundred women and children, and cover their retreat down to the water. Of course the men would help us, but still it would be a stiff job in the face of four or five hundred of the enemy. These Turks may know nothing of soldiering, but they are mountaineers and are used to arms, and for irregular fighting like this, would be quite as formidable as the best troops. If we knew anything about the ground we should be able to give a more decided opinion. What of course we should want, if possible, would be some post, either a defile or a steep eminence that we could hold for half an hour and keep the Turks back until the women and children are well on their way down the mountain. After that we could make a bolt for it, and might get down without much loss; but if there is no place where we could make a stand anywhere along the road, we should be in an awkward fix, especially if the path is a bad one, as I expect it is. You see the whole party would have to go in single file, and if there are four or five hundred of them, it would be next to impossible to guard the flanks and keep the Turks off if they made a rush, while every shot they fired would tell on such a long line. You understand, Mr. Beveridge, I am putting the matter to you in the worst light so that we should all understand the sort of business it is likely to be.”
“I see that it is a very serious affair, Martyn; but at the same time, when we know that there are so many lives at stake, I think that we must run the risk, however great.”
“Very well, then, that is settled, Mr. Beveridge, and I am sure we are all glad that you have decided so. The next question is, who shall go, and who shall remain behind.”
“I shall certainly go,” Mr. Beveridge said. “I am not going to allow others to take risks that I do not share myself.”
“We ought to be as strong a party as possible,” Martyn said. “At the same time we must leave enough to sail the schooner, if not to fight her. It is probable that yesterday morning, as soon as our flag was seen, messengers were sent off at once to Limasol and Larnaca to tell them that a Greek vessel was in the bay; and if there are any Turkish vessels of war in either of these harbours, we shall be having them coming round.”
“That is likely enough,” Miller said. “We must certainly be ready to get up our anchor and be off at a minute’s notice.”
“Well, Miller, then you must remain on board with ten men. We will load all the guns before we go. Ten men are enough to get up sail and to fight the pivot-gun. You had better not waste any time in getting up the anchor, but buoy and then slip the cable. We can recover it, if we like, afterwards. If you should be driven off the coast while we are away, lower a sail under her fore-foot so as to deaden her way and encourage the Turks with the hope that they are going to catch you. Lead them a dance for seven or eight hours, then cut the drag adrift, set every stitch of sail, and run back again. You will be here in plenty of time to get us all on board before they can come up again. Of course if we see that you are gone we shall choose some position where we can make a stout defence, and shall hold it until you come back to the anchorage.”
“All right, sir. I will obey orders. Of course I would rather have gone with the expedition ashore; but someone must stay on board, and if you are going I must take the command in your absence. Ten men will be quite enough for me. We can leave the main and foresail standing when we anchor, so that will be plenty of strength.”
“Well, as that is all settled, we will bout ship and cruise east again. It will be dark in an hour, and it is well they should think on shore that we are off again to the east. I daresay they can make us out from points on the mountains not far from the village. If they see us sailing away, it will never enter their heads that we have any intention of interfering in their little game up there.”
Accordingly the schooner was again put about, and retraced her course along the shore until it became quite dark; then she stood out to sea until well out of sight of land, when she was headed west again. The news had already got about through the ship that there was to be a landing party to rescue a number of Christians besieged by the Turks among the mountains, and the sailors were in the highest spirits, cutlasses were ground, pistols and muskets served out to those who were to land, and the disappointment of those who were to remain behind was mitigated by Horace mentioning to them that not improbably they might have a brush with the Turks on their own account.
Cartridges, muskets, and pistols were served out, and the arms carefully examined. Each man was ordered to take with him a water-bottle filled with weak grog, and two pounds of bread in his haversack, and a hearty supper was served out. Once round the point of the bay the schooner was kept close in shore. The Greek kept a sharp look-out on the hills looming high above them, and about nine o’clock announced that they were now near the place where a track from the mountain came down to the shore. The anchor was at once dropped and the headsails lowered. Then the sailors took their places in three boats, two of the men who were to stop behind going in each to bring them back to the schooner when the landing had been effected. Zaimes was to accompany the party, while Marco remained with Mr. Miller on board.
Ten of the fugitives, active young men, had begged to be allowed to accompany the expedition, but the offer had been declined, and they were told that they might be more useful helping to work the guns of the schooner should a Turkish ship-of-war come round. When the arms had been purchased a dozen good rifles had been among them, and after Mr. Beveridge, Zaimes, and the three officers had each armed themselves with one of these, the rest were divided among the best shots of the party. Tom Burdett, much to his disappointment, was left on board to assist the first lieutenant.
As soon as the boats reached the shore the men were formed up. Tarleton was to lead the advance party of ten men, having with him the guide. Close behind these were the main body, twenty strong, led by Martyn; behind them Mr. Beveridge, with Zaimes and the surgeon, who was also accompanying the party, had their place. Horace commanded the rear-guard of ten men. Although this nominal division was made, the whole party kept closely together, as the night was so dark that they might otherwise have missed each other. None of the fire-arms were loaded, lest an accident should occur by a gun being discharged by a fall, by striking against a rock, or by the trigger catching in a bush.
After a few hundred yards’ walk along the shore the Greek struck upon the track and led the way up, the rest following in single file. The climb seemed interminable to Horace. At times it was so steep it was difficult to scramble up, and in the darkness there were many falls. There were frequent stops, to enable the men to get their breath; but after three hours’ climbing they at last reached comparatively level ground, and the guide told them they were within half a mile of the ridge from which they could look down upon the village.
“Well, we will move slowly forward until we come either to some bushes or a bit of a hollow where we can get some shelter, for it is quite sharp up here, and as soon as the men begin to cool down a bit they will feel it. I wish we had brought blankets now, but it never struck me that it would be cold. Mr. Tarleton, let your ten men scatter. Don’t let them wander too far, but let them search about for some place where we can get shelter. We will remain here; and if any of the men find a place, send one back to bring us up. We have got another four hours to wait before daylight.”
In ten minutes one of the men came back with news that they had found a patch of bush large enough for them to take shelter in. In a short time they all arrived at the spot. The bushes were sweet smelling and free from thorns, and the men soon crushed their way into them and lay down.
“You will remain in charge, Mr. Tarleton. I shall go on and take a look down at the village. I don’t suppose we shall see much, but we may be able to make out whether they are still holding out. Will you go on with me, Mr. Beveridge, or stay here?”
“I will go on with you. I find it bitterly cold here; for not being accustomed to hard work, as your men are, I found that climb almost too much for me; and hot as I have been, I should not like to stop still in this keen air, even with the shelter of the bushes.”
“Well, we will take it easy this last bit, Mr. Beveridge. Come along, Horace.”
Again preceded by the guide, and followed by Zaimes, they ascended the shoulder of the hill. It was a steep pull, but in a quarter of an hour they reached the crest. Just as they did so they heard the report of a gun, followed at once by several others. An exclamation of satisfaction broke from them. Their climb had not been in vain; the village was still holding out. Fifty yards farther the ground fell away suddenly in front of them, and they stood at the edge of a deep descent. Extending round the foot of the hills that formed the amphitheatre in the centre of which the village lay, was a line of fires; some blazing brightly, others dim red spots. Another chain of fires, much closer together, extended across the mouth of the valley. The village, lying in the black shadow of the hills, was invisible to them, and not even a single light indicated its position.
“That is where it is,” the guide said, pointing down to the centre of the hollow.
As he spoke a flash of flame, followed a second or so later by a report, shot out from the spot towards which he was pointing.
“They are keeping a sharp look-out,” Martyn said; “they are not to be caught napping. Now the point is, which is our best side for going down on the village without being seen?”
“The best point,” the guide said, “would be from the head of the valley. Orchards extend from the village to the foot of the hill, and a ravine runs some distance up there. If we could get into that, we might get some distance through the orchards before we are noticed.”
“Could you lead us along the side of the hill to this ravine in the dark?”
“I think so. I am sure I could lead you. The danger would be from setting stones in motion and so calling the attention of the enemy. The hillside is very steep, and a stone set rolling would go right down to their fires.”
“We must risk that,” Martyn said. “It would be a great thing to be able to take them by surprise. Don’t you think so, Mr. Beveridge?”
“I should say it was well worth trying. But it is the getting out, not the getting in, that seems to me the difficult part of the business.”
“There is no doubt about that,” Martyn agreed. “Will you ask him if this part we are standing on goes straight down to the village? The slope looks to me almost too steep.”
Mr. Beveridge put the question to the guide.
“He says the road zigzags. Olive-trees grow up for some distance—about a third of the distance, he says.”
“That is good,” Martyn said, “because if we get the people with a sudden rush across the open we can defend the lower edge of these trees, and the women and children will be hidden from below till they get up above the trees, where they would be pretty well out of danger except from a chance shot. I think, Mr. Beveridge, it would be a good thing to leave Tarleton with fifteen men here. If we can take them by surprise five-and-twenty of us ought to be quite enough to make our way in. Even if there are six hundred of them they must be scattered pretty thinly round this circle, and are probably thickest down at the mouth of the valley. The rear-guard here will of course be concealed until we sally out. Then if the Turks from the other side and the end of the valley try to climb the hill on either side of the path so as to cut us off, our fellows here could open fire and prevent them doing so, and as the enemy would not be able to see how many men there are, it would stop them a bit.”
“I think that would be a very good plan, Captain Martyn.”
“Very well, then. Horace, do you go back to the bushes, bring Mr. Tarleton and the men up. Tell them to move as quietly as they can when they get near this point.”
The men got up willingly when Tarleton gave the word, for although the bushes afforded some shelter, they were already feeling very chilled, and were pleased to be in motion again. They met Martyn a short distance from the spot where Horace had left him. The men were halted.
“Now, Mr. Tarleton, you are to take the fourteen men who came ashore with you in the gig. For the present you had best return with them to the bushes and wait there till daylight. Then you will come back to this point. Post the men where they cannot be seen from below. Be sure that not a head is shown. Take your own post at a point whence you can see down into the valley without being seen yourself. You will remain in hiding while we fight our way into the village. As soon as you see the sortie begun get your men ready for action, and let them lie down without showing themselves more than they can help at the edge of the brow from which they can fire down into the valley. Your duty is to prevent any parties of the enemy working along the side of the hill to take the fugitives and us in flank as we come up the path. As the women and children arrive tell them to push on along the path as fast as they can, without stopping or paying attention to any fire that may be opened upon them. They will be told before they start that the schooner is in readiness to take them off. Still, you may as well hurry them along. You will remain here until the last and form the rear-guard. But we shall all make a stand here as long as we can so as to give the women and children plenty of a start. Do you quite understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Shall I go with you or wait here?” Macfarlane asked.
“I think you might as well stay here, doctor. There won’t be any time for you to be dressing wounds till we are back here again.”
Tarleton called out the men who had landed with him, and marched off with them.
“Now, my lads,” Martyn said to the others, “we are going to work along the side of the hill so as to come down behind them. But I fancy it will be very steep in places. Sling your muskets behind you so as to have both hands to hold on by. If you once begin to roll you go right down to the bottom, and then there is an end to our chance of surprising them. Be careful, above all things, how you walk, for if you set a stone rolling it will put them on their guard. We have to go as quietly as mice. Now follow me in single file, and keep as close as you can to each other, yet so far off that if you stumble you won’t touch the man in front of you.”
The men fell in, and Horace took his place at the rear. A few steps and they halted. The guide then went on in front of Martyn, and Mr. Beveridge and Zaimes fell in behind him. The hill rose so abruptly on the right that it was necessary to keep along on its slope, and very cautiously the men made their way along the hillside. Each step had to be felt before they put their weight down. Sometimes it was slippery grass, and so steep that they were obliged to crawl on all-fours to make their way along it. Sometimes they passed patches of bare rock and sometimes slides of loose stones. They had gone but a short distance when Martyn passed the word along in a whisper for them to sit down, pull off their shoes, and fasten them round their necks. Indeed, had it not been for this precaution, there were places across which it would have been impossible to pass. As it was, it took them a full hour to traverse the half-mile between the point from which they had started and the head of the valley. At last a sharp fall told them that they were at the edge of the ravine. As soon as they descended into it there was a short halt to allow Mr. Beveridge to rest.
“I am sorry I came,” he said as he sat down faint and exhausted. “I did not reckon on this sort of thing, Captain Martyn. If I had done so I would have remained with Tarleton.”
“It is all right now, Mr. Beveridge. We have done our climbing, and it is a marvel that we have done it without alarming those fellows below, for some small stones rolled down once or twice. But if they noticed them, no doubt they thought that it was some sheep or goats on the hillside. Now, my lads, before you go any further, you had better take a drink from your bottles. You will have to be careful in going down the ravine, for there are sure to be loose stones lying about.”
After a halt of five minutes they proceeded cautiously down, and at last, to their great satisfaction, stood on level ground, and soon entered a grove of fruit-trees, where they halted and lay down. There was a short consultation whether their guide should try and make his way into the village to inform the besieged of the help that was near in order that they might assist by opening a fire upon the besiegers as soon as the sailors made their attack. The idea was, however, abandoned, because, were he seen by the Turks, it would put them on the alert; and because, in the second place, he might be shot by the besieged as he approached the village. It did not seem to Martyn that there could be any difficulty in their getting in. It was not likely that more than fifty of the enemy at the outside could interpose between them and the village, and these, taken by surprise, and ignorant of the number of their assailants, could offer no effectual resistance, and they would be up under shelter of the guns of the defenders of the village before the Turks could rally from their first surprise.
Another two hours and daylight began to appear. Martyn waited until it was light enough to make their way through the trees without difficulty. Then the men, most of whom had fallen asleep as soon as they lay down, were roused.
“Now, my lads, you are to keep together. Keep your muskets slung, and use cutlass and pistol. I don’t expect there will be any serious resistance, but, at any rate, don’t straggle. Of course we don’t want any prisoners. Shoot or cut down any one who opposes you, and follow me straight on. Now, load your pistols.”
As soon as this was done they proceeded through the wood. The guide, as before, led the way. His instructions were that directly they were through the Turks he was to run on at the top of his speed, shouting to the villagers not to fire, as those approaching were friends. Martyn, Mr. Beveridge, Horace, and Zaimes, followed close behind the guide, the line of seamen extending behind them. They were nearly through the orchard when a shout was given and they saw a dozen figures leap up from the ground.
“Come along, lads!” Martyn shouted.
The sailors gave a cheer, and at a run the party rushed forward. The Turks, astounded at the appearance of this body of sailors, snatched up their muskets, one or two fired at random, and then the whole fled when their assailants were still thirty yards away. A few pistols were emptied at the fugitives, and then, paying no further attention to them, the party kept straight on. When they emerged from the trees the village was but some three hundred yards away. The Greek, waving his red sash and shouting “Friends, friends, do not fire!” dashed forward at full speed across the gardens that intervened between the orchard and the rocky knoll upon which the village stood. A row of heads appeared above the wall and a line of musket-barrels pointed outward. As the Greek approached shouts of welcome and triumph broke from the besieged, which swelled more and more loudly as the party of sailors were seen running in a compact body towards the wall.
A few straggling shots were fired by the Turks, but these passed harmlessly overhead, and the party reached the wall without a single casualty, and were soon helped over. The delight of the Greeks was only equalled by their astonishment at the approach of this body of foreign sailors. All hope of either escape or rescue had left them, and they had thought only of fighting to the last. As soon as they understood from the guide, Zaimes, Horace, and Mr. Beveridge that there was a ship in readiness to take them off, and that there was a chance of fighting their way through the besiegers, the village was the scene of the wildest delight. The men shouted, screamed, danced, laughed, and wept by turns. The women seized the sailors’ hands and kissed them, to the confusion of the tars, threw themselves on their knees, and poured out passionate ejaculations of thanksgiving that a hope of rescue should be afforded them, and it was some time before anything like order was restored. By this time the alarm had spread round the circle of the besiegers, and their anger was exhibited by shots being fired into the place, many of them pressing forward so threateningly that the defenders manned the walls, and opening fire upon the Turks drove them back out of range of their guns.
AS soon as the excitement subsided a little, Mr. Beveridge assembled the heads of the families in the village church. “You must prepare to leave at once,” he said. “Our landing will be shortly known, and it will be guessed that we intend to take you off in our ship. The consequence is, in addition to the enemies now round you others will gather, and it will be no longer possible to cut our way through. What we propose to do is to make a rush out, the women and children following us. As soon as we have gained that wood and driven the Mussulmans out the women and children will hurry up the path, while all the fighting men will hold the wood and keep the Turks at a distance. There are some more of my men at the top of the hill there; these will keep off any parties of the enemy who try to scale the hillside at other points. As soon as the women are fairly at the top the men will fall back gradually. The sailors will cover the retreat. We shall hold the top of the hill till we know that the women have got nearly down to the sea-shore, and then fall back. We are risking our lives here to save you, and we shall expect all the men to fight valiantly and to obey our orders. It is only by working well together that we can hope to beat off the Turks as we retreat, and to get safely on board ship. You must not load yourselves with baggage; of course each man can take anything he can carry wrapped in his sash, and the women can take bundles such as they can carry on their heads, but they must beware not to take too great weights. Anyone who lags behind will have her bundle taken off and thrown away.”
“Would it not be better to wait till night?” one of the elders of the village asked.
“No. The captain of the ship says that in the dark we should not be able to keep off the enemy nor to travel fast. We may lose rather more in the first rush in daylight, but after that the light will be all in our favour. How many men have you armed with muskets?”
“There are a hundred and forty-six men, and all have guns.”
“How many women?”
“There are about two hundred women and girls, and a hundred and eighty children of all ages.”
“Very well, I leave it to you to make preparations. You must tell the women that they are to keep together, and to follow about a hundred yards behind the men as they advance. As soon as the wood is taken they are to hurry through it, mount the hill by the path, and then without stopping a minute go on at the top of their speed to the sea-shore. It is just possible that some Turkish ships-of-war may have driven our vessel away, but if that is so she will be back again this evening. If they find she has gone they must sit down under shelter of the rocks near the shore, and we will keep the Turks at bay till the ship arrives. Make your preparations and get your valuables together, for in an hour from the present time we shall sally out.”
While this was going on Martyn had formed up the villagers, for the firing had now ceased. The besiegers had before shrunk from attacking the wall, relying upon famine to compel the defenders to surrender, and the addition, small as it was, to the garrison rendered any idea of assault more formidable than before. Horace acted as Martyn’s interpreter.
“Now,” he said, “I expect we shall have no difficulty in carrying the wood, for the enemy can have no idea that we intend to escape in that direction, or that we mean to sally out at all; therefore it is not likely that they will have more than fifty or sixty men at that point. In the first place I want forty determined men who can be trusted to obey orders.”
One of the leaders of the defence chose out that number of men. Martyn divided them into two parties and told off five sailors to each.
“Horace, you will take command of one of these bands, and you, Jones,” he said to the coxswain of his gig, “will take command of the other. Your bands will fall in behind the main body, which I shall lead. We shall go straight at the wood. You will follow us till you are half-way across the open, and will then take post, one to the right and the other to the left, fifty yards from the line we take. Your work will be to check any of the Turks who may come running down from the ends of the valley, and to cover the passage of the women. As soon as they have all passed along you will both run in and join us in the wood. Now, lads, I want the wall undermined for a width of ten yards or so, so that when we push it it will all fall together and leave a wide front for us to pour out. It is not above three hundred and fifty yards or so to the wood, and we shall be half-way across before the Turks can pull themselves together, and they won’t have time for much more than a shot each before we are upon them.”
In an hour the whole of the villagers were gathered. There were five or six wounded men unable to walk. These were laid on doors, and four Greeks were told off to each. The children were told off, one to each woman. Twenty of the Greeks were to form a special escort for the women, and Martyn’s order to their leader was, “See that each woman takes along the child told off to her. If she doesn’t help it along, take off her bundle and throw it away; force her to look after the child. Not a single child shall be lost if we can help it. Life first, property next.”
Martyn was well pleased with the bearing of the Greeks. The men looked ready and eager for the fight; the women, stern and determined. All of them had knives or daggers in their sashes. Some, in addition, had their husbands’ or fathers’ pistols. Their bundles were poised on their heads, and each, with the exception of a few of the old women, had an infant in her arms or held a child by the hand. The twenty English sailors formed the first line; behind these came the main body of the Greeks. Horace’s and Jones’ parties were drawn up three or four paces in their rear, and behind these were gathered the women.
“Now,” Martyn said to the Greek fighting men, “on one point my orders are distinct. Not a shot is to be fired until we reach the trees. Firing would be no good whatever; it would be a loss of time, and your guns would be empty just when you want them; besides, you would be as likely to shoot those in front of you as the enemy. All you have got to do is to follow me closely until you get into the olive grove, then scatter and clear it of the Turks; but don’t go a foot beyond them in pursuit. Directly it is clear let each man take up his station behind a tree at its edge, and defend himself there until the order is given to fall back.”
Zaimes translated the order, then the sailors advanced to the wall, from which the lower stones had been removed as far as was safe. “Now put your shoulders to it, my hearties, and heave all together. One, two, three; now!”
The walls shook as the sailors flung themselves against it. “It is going. Now another try.” There was a shout as the wall toppled over. Then with a cheer the sailors sprang forward, led by Martyn, dashed over the fragments of the wall and down the steep rock, the Greeks pouring after them in a confused mass, and then the whole dashed across the flat cultivated ground towards the olive grove. As Martyn had foretold, not a shot was fired until they were nearly half-way across, though loud shouts of alarm were heard, then a straggling fire was opened; but the enemy were evidently too flurried and alarmed to take aim. Without a check the sailors ran on, cutlass in hand, but the Turks did not await the attack. Outnumbered and surprised they had no sooner fired than they dashed away among the trees to join their companions right and left, and the olive grove was deserted when the sailors entered.
“That will do, lads!” Martyn shouted. “Leave the Greeks to hold the wood. Sheath your cutlasses and unsling your rifles. Come back with me to help the others; keep back the enemy in the open.”
There was, however, no occasion for assistance. The women, instead of waiting, had followed close behind the flanking parties, and were already coming into the wood. By the time Martyn joined the flanking parties the women had all passed, while Horace and Jones were just beginning to fall back with their commands. By this time the valley rang with shouts and cries, and guns were being aimlessly discharged, but the sailors were back in the olive grove before the Turks had mustered strongly enough to think of advancing. The sailors lay down in the intervals between the trees, and as soon as the enemy began to advance a heavy fire was opened upon them, the twelve rifles telling with deadly effect. The Turks on the opposite side of the valley instead of advancing at once to the assistance of their comrades, made a rush at the village as soon as they perceived that it was no longer defended, thinking for the moment much more of plunder than of attacking the retiring Greeks, while the parties who had begun to advance towards the wood rapidly retired again before the heavy fire opened upon them.
“Go round and stop those Greeks firing, Horace; the fools are simply wasting their ammunition,” Martyn said savagely as the Greeks continued to blaze away when the enemy were already out of range of their guns. Horace hurried off one way and Zaimes the other, and in a minute or two the firing ceased. As it did so the report of guns could be heard on the hill above them.
“That is Tarleton’s party at work,” Martyn said to Mr. Beveridge. “Of course the Turks have seen the women mounting the hill, and I suppose some of them were beginning to climb up to cut them off. Tarleton’s fire will stagger them a bit.” From the shouts in the valley it was evident that the enemy were gathering for a serious attack. Horace had returned to Martyn’s side.
“Now, Horace, do you take ten of the men and ascend the path half-way up the hill. Post five of them on each side of it to act as flanking parties. Zaimes, do you tell your countrymen it is time for us to be off. We must get well up the hillside before these fellows make their rush. Mr. Beveridge, will you make your way up the path at once. These Greeks are as active as goats, and I should recommend you to be pushing on to get a start of them.”
In a couple of minutes the entire party had left the wood and were mounting the path, Martyn and his sailors forming the rear-guard. The Greeks sprang up the path with such speed that the sailors, active as they were, had hard work to keep near them. Mr. Beveridge was speedily overtaken.
“Jones, you take Mr. Beveridge’s rifle; and do you, Hawkins and Baldock, help him along. Make haste, lads! we shall have a storm of bullets coming up after us in no time;” for as soon as the fugitives appeared on the path above the level of the tree-tops a loud shout had broken from the enemy, and it was certain they would soon be upon them. So rapidly, however, was the ascent made that Martyn and the sailors reached the spot where Horace with his party had taken up his position before a shot rang out from below. There was a slight shoulder on the hillside at this point, and lying down here the men were sheltered from the fire below.
“Wait here, my lads, until you get your wind. Their guns will hardly carry this height, and there is no fear of their showing themselves above the trees, at any rate for the present.”
Mr. Beveridge threw himself down on the grass, and even the sailors were glad of a pause, for in the five minutes that had elapsed since they left the wood they had climbed half-way up the hill and were fully three hundred feet above the olive grove. A roar of musketry broke out from below, and some of the Mussulmans dashed out from the trees, waving their guns and calling upon the others to follow them; but as soon as they showed themselves the sailors under Horace opened fire. Some of the others would have joined them, but Martyn forbade them.
“It is no use trying to take aim, lads, just after such a run as that. You must wait until your breath comes quietly, and your hands get steady again. You would be only throwing away powder and ball, and we shall probably want all we have got before we are on board the schooner again.”
The firing above still continued, and looking along the hillside men could be seen straggling up in considerable numbers on either side.
“Forward, lads! we must move on again. Horace, you may as well bring your men straight up. There is no fear of their venturing on an attack up this path. Bring your father on with you. There is no occasion for haste; we will push straight up now. Forward! Don’t run, but go at a steady pace that you can keep up till we reach the top.”
Horace followed with the rear-guard at a leisurely walk wherever the inequalities of the ground sheltered the path from the bullets that still came singing out from below, and stepping out briskly whenever they were exposed to fire. The coxswain was waiting with orders when they reached the top.
“The captain’s orders are, Mr. Beveridge,” he said to Horace, “that your party is to remain here for the present with these twenty Greeks. You are to spread along the edge here for a bit and keep up a fire, if the Turks try to climb the hill hereabouts. The captain is with a party away there on that high ground back on the left, and Mr. Tarleton with the rest back there on the right, so as to prevent the varmint working round in front of us. You are to let them know if you see any large bodies of men climbing the hill, either right or left of you.”
Horace divided his party in two, telling Jones with five sailors and ten Greeks to take post a hundred yards to the left of the path, while he with the others went the same distance to the right.
“Don’t let them waste their ammunition, Jones. My father and Zaimes will go with you, and as you three have rifles you may do something to check those fellows from climbing up away to the left. It is no use the others firing, their guns won’t carry half the distance. Of course if the Turks try to come straight up from the wood your party will all open fire upon them.”
As soon as he got to his station Horace lay down, and with one of the sailors with him who had a rifle, opened fire upon the stream of men ascending the hillside near the head of the valley. After firing three or four rounds he told the sailor to desist.
“We are only wasting our ammunition, Frost,” he said. “They are seven or eight hundred yards away, and the rifles are of no real use at more than half that distance.”
Ten minutes later he sent off sailors to Martyn and Tarleton, to tell them that the Turks continued to climb the hill in large numbers, and that he should think that at least two hundred men must have gone up on each flank, that flames had broken out in the village, and numbers of men were pouring out from there, and would probably join in the attack. A few minutes later a message came from Martyn:
“The captain says, sir, that now the women have got half an hour’s start we shall fall back. Your party are to retire by the path. He and Mr. Tarleton will work down the hill on your flanks. You are to keep your eye on them, and regulate your pace by theirs, keeping about a hundred yards in their rear, unless you are pressed, when you can double on till you are in line with them. He has sent orders to Mr. Tarleton, sir.”
Horace was expecting the order. A sharp fire had broken out on either side, and he knew that the Turks were trying to work round to cut them off.
“Run on,” he said to the sailor, “and tell the other party over there to join me in the path.”
In three minutes the united body was marching to the rear. The crackle of musketry was now incessant, and Horace soon caught sight of the two flanking parties making their way down the hill at a distance of a hundred yards or so on either side of the path. They were in scattered order, loading as they retired, crouching behind rocks to take a steady aim, and then retiring again; going at a run when the ground permitted it, hanging to the rocks and bushes when they afforded shelter. On the higher ground, to the left of Martyn’s party, were a number of Mussulmans. They were pursuing similar tactics to those of their opponents—at times crouching behind rocks, and then bounding forward with loud yells.
“Get ready to fire, lads,” Horace said. “The next time those fellows make a rush give them a volley. They are not thinking of us yet, and we shall take them by surprise. Take steady aim; don’t hurry. Halt; drop on one knee. They will be crossing that open space in a minute.” He repeated the order to the Greeks. “There they come,” he said a moment later. “Get ready! Now fire!”
Thirty guns rang out; several of the Turks fell, and the rest, with a shout of surprise, bounded back into the bushes.
“Now retire briskly for a bit, and load as you go.”
After a hundred yards’ running they again fell into a walk. Horace kept his eye upon Tarleton’s party. They did not seem so severely pressed, and had the advantage that their foes were on somewhat lower ground than they were. Presently a sailor came in from the left.
“Captain Martyn’s orders are that the two flanking parties are to fall back quickly to the path, then to double down the hill to that shoulder a mile below. You are to act as rearguard, and to follow close behind them.”
In two or three minutes the two flanking parties, taking advantage of cover which concealed them from the enemy, made a rush to the path. The body under Tarleton gained it first, and at once started down at the top of their speed. Martyn’s party were but a minute later. He himself paused till Horace came up at a run.
“We can go faster down this path,” he said, “than they can follow over the rough ground, and there are such a lot of them that they will jostle each other on the path, and won’t get along as fast as we shall. How are you feeling, Mr. Beveridge?”
“I am all right now we are going downhill, Martyn. It is only the climbing I can’t stand. This is really very exciting work, though I don’t like running away.”
“We will make another stand presently, but I wanted to be getting on. They will get stronger every minute, and we shall have to fight hard presently. Do you see that the schooner has gone?”
An exclamation broke both from Mr. Beveridge and Horace. In the excitement of the fight neither of them had thought of the schooner.
“There she is, five-and-twenty miles away to the northwest, with two Turkish frigates lumbering after her.”
The firing had ceased; the yells of the Turks rose loudly in the air, but they were fully two or three hundred yards in the rear.
“We are in plenty of time,” Martyn said. “We will line the other side of that flat step when we reach it. We can keep them back there for some time.”
There was no attempt at keeping in order, the path was too steep and broken; but they went down running and leaping, each as he best could. Down the path, in front, was a long straggling line of Greeks, with the sailors, keeping in two distinct bodies, among them. As soon as the head of the line came down on to the flat step in the hill they spread out right and left, and in less than ten minutes from the issue of the order to retreat the hundred and eighty men were lying down along the lower edge of the level ground, which was some forty yards across, the centre of the position being left vacant for the last party that arrived. The instant the rear-guard threw themselves down they opened a heavy fire upon the Turks, who were crowding down the path. Horace was lying next to his father.
“Do keep your head lower, father,” he said, as the Turks left the path and bounded in among the rocks and shrubs and opened fire.
“But I can’t take aim if I don’t see, Horace.”
“No, father, that is right enough; but you might move a foot or two back, so as to be in shelter while you are loading. Then, if you push your rifle up before you, you would only have to raise your head to look along the barrel and fire. Some of these mountain fellows are good shots.”
The firing in front of them increased every moment as the Turks poured down and took up their positions, until puffs of smoke seemed to dart out from every bush and rock. Martyn now went along the line posting the men. Horace’s party were left lying thickly opposite the path, in case the Turks should attempt a rush. The rest were disposed two yards apart, the sailors being placed at regular intervals among the Greeks. Fortunately the ground fell sharp away from the flat, so that even from the higher ground those lying behind it were completely sheltered, except when raising their heads to fire. This, by Martyn’s orders, they did but seldom.
“Let them blaze away as much as they like,” he said, “they do us no harm. The great thing is to have every musket loaded in case they make up their minds to try a rush, and I don’t think they will do that. The more smoke they make the better, for it prevents them taking aim. We can stop them here for hours, as long as they don’t work round our flanks.”
Satisfied that all was going on well, Martyn returned to Mr. Beveridge.
“We have stopped them for the time effectually, sir.”
“Yes, this is a capital position, Martyn.”
“Capital as far as it goes, sir. Of course if these fellows were soldiers they would either gather and make a rush, or march away and work round our flanks; but being only peasants, there is no one to command, and every man fights for himself. Macfarlane is at work with the wounded.”
“Did you lose many men in your retreat, Martyn?”
“No; three of the Greeks were killed and half a dozen of them were wounded, fortunately not severely. Two of our own fellows were hit, but neither of them badly. I have sent them and the Greeks on ahead to join the women on the shore. Tarleton lost two Greeks, killed, and had about as many wounded as I had. One poor fellow was so badly hit that he could not keep up with the others on the retreat. Two of our men tried to carry him; but it hurt him so much that he begged them to put him down; and as soon as they did he drew his pistol and shot himself. So, altogether, we have lost six, which is little enough, considering we are more than half-way down to the shore.”
“If they do try to outflank us, I suppose we must fall back again?”
“Yes, if they succeed we must do so. Of course we shall try to prevent it. Directly I see any signs of their trying it on, I shall make a strong effort to drive them back; but I don’t think they will try it at present, the sole object of each man seems to be to fire away his ammunition as quickly as he can. I have just been giving orders to the Greeks and our fellows to shove their caps up in front of them on the ends of their ramrods, so as to encourage the Turks to keep on firing, and to push a musket up and fire occasionally, without raising their heads to take aim. The smoke hanging about along the line will hide the trick of the caps, and the shots will keep the Turks blazing away.”
For two hours the firing continued; but towards the end of that time it slackened considerably.
“I expect a good many of them are running short of ammunition,” Martyn said. “Now they have done firing they will have time to talk a bit, and may arrange to march off somewhere, and come down between us and the shore; so I think it is time for us to be making a move. I will go along and tell every third man to fall back at once. I think, Mr. Beveridge, it would be as well that you should go with them. I shall send Tarleton in command, and tell him to pick out a spot, from a hundred to three hundred yards from the shore, and place the men in position there. Five minutes later you shall pick out every second man, Horace, and go down and join them. We will keep up a more rapid fire now, so that they sha’n’t have any idea we are falling back. Of course, when you join Tarleton, you will take up your position with him. I shall be down five minutes after you. When we are all there we can form a semicircle, with the ends resting on the sea, and there will be an end of this constant fear of being outflanked.”
Five minutes later Tarleton, with a third of the men, went off at the double down the path. Those left behind renewed their fire, taking aim among the rocks and bushes, and this at once provoked a fresh outburst of firing on the part of the Turks. In a short time Martyn told Horace to get his men together and be off, and in twenty minutes he joined Tarleton, who had taken up his post at a little more than a hundred yards from the shore. The men were slashing down bushes with their cutlasses, and piling them and stones so as to make a low breastwork. The party Horace had brought at once joined in the work.
“It is a screen we want more than a defence,” Tarleton said. “You see we are commanded everywhere from the hill, but these bushes will hide us, and they will only be able to fire into them at random; besides, we want them cut down in front of us to be able to use our guns.”
They were soon joined by the rear-guard.
“The Turks must be some distance behind,” Martyn said. “We could hear them blazing away when we were nearly half a mile on the road. That is a good work, Mr. Tarleton; we shall get it finished by the time they come.”
So strong a party made quick work of it, and in another quarter of an hour the screen of bushes was completed down to the shore on either side, the sweep being some three hundred yards in length, and the breastwork in most places three feet high.
“It won’t keep out bullets,” Martyn said; “but from the distance they won’t see how thin it is. At any rate it is a good screen.”