The interpreter translated his words sentence by sentence. The Turk had at first looked perfectly impassive; but at the threat to carry off his women and children his expression changed, the veins stood out of his forehead, and his face flushed with fury.

“Tell him,” Horace went on, “that we should deeply regret to have to take such a step, and that we sincerely trust that he will see the necessity for his yielding to our demands. There is no possibility of assistance reaching him, we are a well-armed body of determined men, his servants have been secured, and all the doors are guarded, as also the windows outside—he is completely in our power. As we came in noiselessly and unobserved, so we shall depart. If he refuses to comply with our demands we shall, of course, be compelled to bind and gag all our captives, and to carry the ladies and children.”

When the last sentence had been translated, Horace said to Martyn, “I think, Captain Martyn, you had better get those officers carried into the next room, so that we can touch upon the money side of the question.”

Martyn gave the order, and the officers and the attendant were removed.

“Now, pasha,” Horace went on, “let us look at this thing reasonably. On the one side is the certainty that you and the ladies of the household and your children will be carried away; and that unless the prisoners are given up to us in exchange for you, you will be all put to death. On the other hand, you have but to surrender prisoners whom you did not even capture in war, but who were wrecked on your shore. We know that you have sent to Smyrna for directions concerning them. Were it not for that you would have handed them over to us without difficulty; but as the pasha there, who is your superior, now knows of it, you think that he will be angry when he hears of their escape, and that you might fall into disgrace. But I don’t think that the pasha of Anatolia, if he were placed in the same position as you are, would hesitate a moment in giving up a score of captives of no great importance one way or the other; and that if the matter were placed by you in the proper light before him, accompanied, perhaps, by a present, nothing more would be heard about it. In any case we are ready to pay you the sum of one thousand pounds as a ransom for them. We have sent your officers out of the room that they should not hear this offer, which will be entirely between ourselves. It is not meant as a bribe to you, but as a ransom, which, if you choose to send it to Smyrna, will doubtless assist the pasha there to perceive that being, with your whole family, at our mercy, you had no resource but to comply with our commands. We will give you five minutes to make up your mind.”

When this was translated, the pasha asked:

“How am I to know that, if the captives are restored to you, you will not still carry me and my family away?”

“You have simply the word of English gentlemen,” Horace said when the question was translated to him. “You see we are acting as considerately as we can. Your ladies upstairs are still unaware that anything unusual is going on. Our men have touched nothing belonging to you. We are neither robbers nor kidnappers, but simply men who have come to save their comrades from a cruel death.”

“I will write the order,” the pasha said firmly. “Had I been in the house by myself I would have died rather than do so. Being as it is, I cannot resist.”

“Who will you send with the order?” Horace asked.

“One of the officers you have taken away is the colonel of the regiment. He will take it and bring the prisoners here. He is the oldest of the three.”

Horace went into the next room and ordered the officer to be unbound and brought in by two of the sailors.

“You have heard, Colonel Osman, the terms that these strangers have laid down, and that unless the prisoners are surrendered, you, the two bimbaches, myself, and the members of my family, will be carried off as hostages and hung if the prisoners are not delivered up.”

“I heard that, pasha.”

“What is your opinion, colonel?”

“My opinion is that you have no course but to give up the prisoners. No one would expect you to sacrifice the lives of the ladies of your family and your children, to say nothing of your own and ours, merely for the sake of twenty shipwrecked sailors. It seems to me that it were madness to hesitate, pasha.”

“That is also my opinion,” the pasha said. “Therefore, colonel, I will now write you an order to fetch them from prison and bring them under an escort here. You will understand that it will be better that absolute silence should be observed about this affair. The less it is talked of the better. If the officer in special charge of them asks any questions you can intimate that, without knowing it, you believe that the messenger may have arrived from Smyrna with instructions as to their disposal. Dismiss the escort at the outer gate and bring the prisoners yourself here.”

The pasha wrote the order, which he handed to the colonel, who at once hurried off with it.

“You are sure that he will faithfully obey the order, pasha?” Horace asked through the interpreter.

The pasha nodded.

“One of the bimbaches here is his own brother, and he would be sure that his life would be sacrificed were there any treachery.”

At this moment there was a little shriek heard.

“I am afraid,” Horace said, “that one of the ladies’ attendants has come downstairs and has been seized. Perhaps you will like to go upstairs and assure them that there is no cause for alarm. In the meantime I will hand you this bag, which contains the amount of the ransom in gold.”

“You Englishmen act nobly,” the pasha said as he took the bag. “You had us in your power, and need have paid nothing, and you treat me as a friend rather than as an enemy. It is a pity that you fight for the Greeks. When I was a young man I fought in Egypt by the side of your troops.”

Horace escorted him through the sailors in the passages to the foot of the stairs and there left him.

“Your scheme is turning out trumps and no mistake,” Martyn said as he returned to the room. “There is no fear, I hope, of that Turkish colonel bringing all his men down on us.”

“I don’t think so.” And Horace then repeated what the pasha had said as to one of the officers in his hands being the colonel’s brother.

“That is good, Horace. I don’t think he would venture on it anyhow. Evidently the pasha has no fear. If he had he would not have sent him, because he must have known that his treachery jeopardized his own safety and that of his family.”

“How long do you think they will be before they are back?”

“Not much above half an hour, I should think. I don’t think the Turkish soldiers do much in the way of undressing, and certainly our fellows won’t. Now we will leave five men to look after the prisoners here, and we will put all the others in the offices you say look into the court-yard, so that if by any chance this fellow does bring troops down with him we can give them a hot reception.”

“If he does, Horace, do you take the five men in the house, rush upstairs, let one man put a pistol to the pasha’s head, and let the others snatch up any children they can find there and take them away over the wall—pasha and all—and march them straight down to the boat and get them on board ship. Let me know when you are off with them. We will defend the place as long as we can, and then make a bolt through the garden to the ladder and follow you.”

The men loaded their muskets and took their places at the windows of the offices. Horace and Martyn stood at the door leading from the house into the court-yard. The interpreter stood with them. Presently they heard the tramp of feet approaching. Then they heard a word of command, followed by silence, and the interpreter said:

“He has ordered the soldiers to halt. The prisoners alone are to enter the court-yard. When the gates close behind them the soldiers are to march back to barracks.”

The gates that had been left ajar by the officer as he went out opened, and in the moonlight they saw him enter, followed by Miller, Tarleton, and the sailors. The officer himself closed and barred the gate as the last entered. Then Martyn and Horace rushed forward and grasped the hands of their friends. These were for a time speechless with astonishment, but the men burst into exclamations and then began to cheer. Martyn checked them at once.

“Hush, lads! Come in silently and quietly. We will talk and cheer when we get away. Pass the word inside, Horace. Tell the men to file out at once. Form up in the garden. I will wait here till you have cleared the house.”

The greetings were hearty indeed when the two parties met in the garden.

“March to the ladder, lads,” Martyn said, “but don’t begin to climb it till we join you. Now, Horace, we will say good-bye to the old pasha. Bring the interpreter in with you.”

The pasha had returned to his room again where he had been joined by the three officers, the colonel having already liberated the other two.

“Tell the pasha that Captain Martyn wishes to thank him for the promptness with which the arrangement has been carried out, and also to express to him his very great pleasure that this incident should have terminated without unpleasantness. Captain Martyn wishes also to say, that although, in order to rescue his officers and men, he was obliged to use threats, yet that, as far as the ladies of the pasha’s family were concerned, they were threats only; for that, even had he refused, he should have respected the privacy of his apartments; and although he would have been obliged to carry off the pasha himself, his children, and these officers as hostages, he would have retaliated for the murder of the prisoners only upon the adults. No English officer would use disrespect to ladies, and no English officer would avenge the murder even of his dearest friends upon children.”

When this was translated to the pasha, he replied: “The courtesy that the captain and his sailors have exhibited since they entered the house is in itself sufficient to show me that his words are true, and that the ladies of my household would have been respected. I feel myself humiliated by thus having my prisoners carried off from the midst of the town, but I have no reason to complain. It is the will of Allah, and I shall always remember these English officers as gallant gentlemen. There are not many who would risk their lives to save a few of their countrymen.”

A few more words were exchanged, and then Martyn and his companions joined the sailors at the wall. Miller and Tarleton had by this time gathered from the men a short account of how their rescue had come about.

“Now,” Martyn said briskly when he reached them, “the sooner we are off the better. Horace, do you lead the way with ten of the men who came with us; let the last two of that party help your interpreter over. Mr. Miller, you with your party will follow. I will bring up the rear with the other ten men.”

In five minutes all were over the walls. The last party had pulled up the ladder from the garden after them, then removed and lowered down the gangway; and after Martyn, who came last, reached the ditch, the grapnel was shaken from its hold on the wall.

“It wouldn’t do to leave these things here,” he said to Horace. “There is no saying what yarn the pasha may set afloat. It is quite on the cards that if he gets an order from Smyrna to execute the prisoners, he will have it given out that they were marched to the court-yard of his house and there executed. At any rate our taking away the ladders will leave it open to him to give his own account of the matter. Now, my lads, you will all follow me. It is of no use forming up in order, as we are going through orchards; but keep close together, don’t straggle and don’t talk. You will have plenty of time to compare notes when you are once on board.

“Now, Miller,” he said as he started, “we are fairly out of it. I am delighted, indeed, to see you and Tarleton again. I thought at one time it was all up with you.”

“So did we,” Miller said, “and I can hardly believe we are free even now.”

“It is due to Horace and Zaimes, Miller, though it is to Horace entirely that the credit of hitting upon the plan by which we have got you out belongs. However we will talk all about that when we get on board. You will have to tell your yarn to the chief; besides, as I have told the men not to talk, I don’t want to set a bad example.”

Horace had greeted Marco warmly in the court-yard, and as soon as they started he fell behind with him, chatting with him in low tones.

“Zaimes couldn’t come with us, Marco, for he and the doctor had to stay on board with my father to look after some prisoners there, but he was here with me this morning and made all the arrangements for the escape. We landed at the mouth of the bay and walked here last night, both disguised in peasants’ dresses we got hold of. I know it was a great privation to him not to be able to come himself and aid in your rescue.”

Here Martyn, catching the murmur of voices, passed the word for silence, and nothing more was said until they reached the boats which they had drawn up on the shore. A few minutes later they were alongside the brigantine. Mr. Beveridge hailed them as they approached.

“Is that you, Martyn?”

“Yes, sir. Horace’s plan has worked perfectly, and we have got them all out. The boats can only carry half. He is waiting with the rest on the beach.”

“Thank God for that, Martyn! No one hurt at all?”

“No one, not even a Turk has been knocked down. The only scrimmage has been with one of the pasha’s wives’ maids, who fought like a wild-cat before two of our men could make her a prisoner.”

Directly the rest of the party came off the anchor was weighed and sail made on the brigantine, and she was headed from the land. In half an hour a look-out in the bow called out: “I think I can make out the schooner away on our beam, sir.”

“I think it is her,” Martyn said after going forward to have a look. “Light that red flare-up we brought with us, Horace.”

As soon as the red flame broke out, a similar signal was shown by the craft in the distance. The brigantine was headed for her, and the two vessels rapidly approached each other. Presently a hail from Tom Burdett came across the water.

“Captain Martyn ahoy!”

“Ay, ay, Tom! We have got them all. Everyone is safe and well.”

A cheer broke out from the schooner, which was answered by a louder one from the brigantine.

“Throw her up in the wind, Tom,” Martyn shouted, “and we will bring this craft alongside.”

In two or three minutes the vessels lay side by side. Before leaving the brigantine its crew were released. Mr. Beveridge, in his delight at the success of the plan, made them each a handsome present for the inconvenience they had suffered. The cobbler of Adalia had not come aboard with the boats, Horace having given him his reward of twenty-five pounds before embarking. As soon as the crew of the schooner were all on board the head-sails were filled, and she rapidly drew away from the brig. The boatswain was ordered to serve out a ration of grog all round, and the officers then assembled in the cabin, where the Greeks placed some cold meat and wine on the table, to which all, especially Miller and Tarleton, fell to with a good appetite. When they had done, Martyn told the story of the steps that had been taken for their rescue.

“You see, Miller, it was entirely Horace’s plan; he made the whole arrangements, and we had only to carry them out, which was the simplest thing in the world. Now let us have your account.”

“We were not very lucky,” Miller said. “We overhauled five or six craft, but for the most part they contained little of value. One or two of them had some silk and other goods on board, and these were transferred to the polacca. The weather kept fine, and thinking that our rig would not alarm the Turks we sailed in within three miles of Adalia. I was intending to go right into the roads and anchor there, when we saw the clouds banking up to the south. I had no barometer on board, but it looked so bad that we headed out again for the mouth of the gulf.

“We had not gone far when the gale struck us, blowing like fury right into the bay. We did everything we could, but the old tub drifted to leeward two feet for every one we worked out. The wind got higher and higher till it was blowing a hurricane. As soon as the water shallowed sufficiently to anchor, I let both anchors go; but the gear was all rotten, and the cables snapped like packthread. Finally we drove ashore about half a mile to the east of the town.

“There was a mob there waiting us, and the pasha with a lot of troops. We tied a line to a keg and it floated on shore. They hauled on it, and then we sent a hawser and swarmed along it. The Turks behaved very pluckily, joining hands and rushing into the breakers to get us ashore. As soon as they saw by our uniform who we were there was a regular hubbub, and I thought we should all have been killed then and there. However the pasha made the troops form up round us, and marched us into the town, and there we were stowed away in a room in that old castle. The prospect didn’t look good, for as we went in we saw that the troops were in huts all round us, and that there was besides a high wall outside them. The window of the place we were shut up in was about eight feet from the ground and very strongly barred, and in addition they kept four soldiers always on guard in the room.

“Two or three fellows came to us and spoke in different lingoes, of which we could neither make head nor tail. Then a chap came who spoke Italian. I don’t know much of it, but enough to make out what he meant when he spoke very slowly. The upshot of it was that they had sent to Smyrna for orders as to what was to be done, and that it would take five or six days for the messenger to go there and back. It did not seem to make much odds to us what the answer was. Knowing how they go on on both sides it was a moral certainty that we should be hung either here or at Smyrna, and it did not seem to us that there was much choice between the two places.

“Of course we often talked about you. We knew you would do everything you could, and that when you found we did not turn up at the rendezvous you would sail along the coast till you got news of us; but it did not seem likely that you could do anything to help us. We knew that you could not land more than twenty men, and with twenty men you could do nothing at all against about a thousand Turks with that strong wall in front of them. Besides, the old castle itself was capable of defence, and there were lots of them stationed in it. Things looked about as black as they could be. We were not starved; the Turks gave us plenty of bread and a sort of thin broth.

“This evening we stretched ourselves out as usual about nine o’clock. We were all asleep when the outer gates of the castle were opened, then there was a loud trampling of feet, then our door was unlocked. When an officer came in, followed by a lot of soldiers, we thought that it was all up with us. The officer made signs that we were to go with him, and I made so certain that we were being taken out either to be shot or hung that I said a few words to the men, telling them that the end had evidently come, and that we must die as Christians and British sailors. We were led out, and about a hundred Turkish soldiers closed round us. We were surprised when they marched us out of the place, but as we went on through the streets of the town we supposed they were taking us to some quiet spot outside the walls. Then we turned in through that gateway, and then you know the rest, Martyn. I don’t think that I am a coward, or that I felt afraid to die; but when you and Horace rushed out to speak to us, you could have knocked me over with a feather. It was not until I got out into the garden and found your party formed up there that I was quite sure it was not all a dream.”

When they had talked over the rescue Mr. Beveridge said: “Well, we have had enough of cruising for the present; we will make for Athens at once, Captain Martyn; by this time probably something will be going on there.”

It was late in February when anchor was dropped in the harbour of the Piræus. Mr. Beveridge at once went on shore with Martyn, and returned the next morning.

“Any news of importance, father?” Horace asked as they came on board.

“Yes, Hypsilantes is likely to be succeeded by his rival Mavrocordatos. A Samian adventurer named Lykourgos has got together a fleet and has proposed a landing at Chios; there can be no doubt that his intention is simply plunder, for even if he could drive the Turks out of Chios he could not possibly hold the island, as a large Turkish fleet will very shortly be ready to sail out of the Dardanelles. The worst of it is that the Chiots are utterly opposed to any movement of the kind. They are an agricultural people, and the island has always been mildly governed and lightly taxed; their municipal administration is already in their own hands, and their taxes collected by themselves. When Admiral Tombazes appeared off Chios with the Greek fleet during its first cruise, the inhabitants turned a deaf ear to his invitation to them to rise. In fact there is no doubt that the people of Chios have everything to lose and nothing to gain by becoming a part of Greece.

“They have sent urgent remonstrances against the landing of any Greek troops on the island, pointing out that there is a strong body of Turkish troops there; that the citadel could not be captured, and that the attempt would only inflame the passions of the Mohammedan population and end in ruin and disaster to the Christian inhabitants. Hypsilantes has written a mild letter to Lykourgos suggesting that it would at any rate be prudent to defer the enterprise. It is feared, however, that, like Greek commanders in general, the fellow will pay no attention to this, but will proceed on his own account. Martyn agrees with me that it would be as well for us to cruise about the island and see how matters go on, and endeavour to rescue some of the Turks from the fury of the Greeks, or some of the Greeks from the fury of the Turks.”

“I should say the best thing to do, father,” Horace said indignantly, “would be to attack the ship of this fellow Lykourgos and to hang him at his own yard-arm.”

“It would be a good action, no doubt, Horace; but as he has with him a fleet of seventy or eighty vessels it is probable that if we made the attempt we should decorate the yard-arms and not Lykourgos. At any rate we will stop here for two or three days, and give the men a run on shore. Just at present, owing to the fact of our having destroyed that Turkish frigate, they will be very popular characters, and are not likely to get into any serious row. They have still got the money I paid them for their conduct at Cyprus, and when sailors have got money in their pockets they are never happy until they have got a chance of spending it.”

Accordingly, the crew had twelve hours on shore, a third of their number going each day. On the fourth day the vessel sailed for Chios. They cruised round the island for a fortnight and frequently overhauled fishing-boats and had conversations with the crews. They learned that fresh troops had lately arrived at Chios, and that as these bands were principally composed of volunteers, Vehid Pasha, the governor, had great difficulty in maintaining order among them. He had persuaded the Christians to raise a monthly contribution of thirty-four thousand piastres to give regular pay and rations to the troops and so keep them in a good temper.

On the 22d of March the schooner made out a large fleet of vessels approaching the island. They kept away until they saw them anchor, and then themselves cast anchor at a short distance from them. A boat at once put off from the ship flying the flag of Lykourgos, to demand who they were and with what intentions they were there.

“We fly, as you see, the flag of Greece,” Mr. Beveridge replied to the officer, “and we have the authority of the Greek government to fight against its enemies. I do not, however, recognize any authority on the part of your commander, unless he is acting at the present time under the explicit orders of Prince Mavrocordatos, who is now President of Greece, and shall therefore consult only my own feelings as to whether or not I take any part in the proceedings on shore.”

“Our admiral will know how to make you obey orders,” the officer said angrily.

“Is he an admiral?” Mr. Beveridge asked, as if for information. “I was not aware that he had received any commission that would authorize him to use that title either from the last president or from the present one. When I am well assured that this is the case it will naturally modify my views; as to compelling me, you can look round at the armament of this craft. Three months ago we destroyed a Turkish frigate, and I fancy that if we were interfered with we could give a good account of many of those vessels anchored there. If, therefore, Lykourgos is really bent upon the capture of Chios, I should advise him to set about it without wasting his time in meddling with us. You may mention to him that I am an English gentleman who has fitted up this vessel for the purpose of aiding Greece to achieve her independence, and that in all honourable warfare I am ready to take my part. If I see that the object of your expedition is honourable warfare I shall lend all assistance in my power. If I find that it is merely plunder and destruction, I shall also do all in my power to prevent the Greek flag from being disgraced by acts only worthy of pirates; and, moreover, I will take care that my countrymen and the various nations of Europe shall obtain a fair account of what has been done here.”

The Greek was completely cowed by the calmness and confidence of the owner of the schooner, and returned to his boat without any of the swagger with which he had quitted it. Horace translated his father’s speech to Martyn and the other two officers as soon as Mr. Beveridge had returned to his cabin.

“The chief is a perfect brick,” Martyn said enthusiastically. “Fancy sending off such a message as that from this schooner to a fellow commanding sixty or seventy sail. Sir Richard Grenville could hardly have sent from the deck of the Revenge a more defiant message to the Spanish fleet.”

Miller rubbed his hands. “Shall I get the men in readiness for making sail and casting off the guns, Captain Martyn?”

“There will be time enough,” Martyn said, “when we make out a movement among them. We can get up sail in half the time they can. I should not be surprised if this fellow Lykourgos knuckles down. Did you see how his officer came down from his stilts? If this fellow had any pluck he would be sailing to meet the Turkish fleet instead of landing to pillage here, for, from what Mr. Beveridge said, that can be his only motive. Still, we will keep a sharp look-out on them. If we see the flag-ship signalling to the others, or her boats putting off to them, we shall know what to expect. You may as well get a buoy on the anchor-chain and have everything ready to slip. We are too near them to be pleasant if they open fire. Once under way and out of close range we can talk to them as we like.”

CHAPTER XIV
CHIOS

A QUARTER of an hour after the Greek officer left the schooner Miller said: “They are lowering a large boat from the Greek flag-ship, sir.”

Martyn brought his glass to bear upon it.

“There is a stir on board,” he said. “It looks as if the commander were going on shore.”

“Yes, there is some officer of importance being handed down the ladder. Now she is putting off. By Jove! I believe she is coming here; at any rate she is heading straight for us. Perhaps Lykourgos himself is coming to blow us out of the water.”

“Quite as likely he is coming to pay his respects,” Miller said. “The betting is ten to one the fellow is a coward; and that if the officer gave the message as he got it, he is impressed with the idea that the chief is an Englishman of great importance, possessed, perhaps, of unknown powers of destruction.”

“Horace,” Martyn said, “you had better tell your father. I can make out that the fellow in the stern is got up in gorgeous uniform. I expect it is Lykourgos himself.”

Mr. Beveridge came up on to the quarter-deck just as the boat came alongside. Martyn went to the gangway as a Greek officer came up and announced that Admiral Lykourgos had come to pay a visit to the English lord. Lykourgos mounted to the deck.

“I am the commandant of this craft, sir,” Martyn said. “This is Mr. Beveridge, the owner.”

Lykourgos advanced with an air of great pleasure and with outstretched hand.

“I am delighted to make the acquaintance of an English friend of Greece,” he said.

Mr. Beveridge bowed and shook hands with the Greek.

“What a contrast there is between them!” Miller whispered to Horace. “This theatrical-looking Greek with his oily manners, and your father in his quiet blue serge! Ah! he is asking him to go down into the cabin.”

The interview lasted about ten minutes, and then the two men returned on deck. Lykourgos entered his boat and rowed away.

“Well, sir, is it peace or war?” Martyn asked.

“Peace, as far as we are concerned,” Mr. Beveridge said. “The fellow made no allusion to my message to him, paid me a large number of absurd compliments, expressed boundless admiration at the result of Miller’s action with the frigate, of which he had heard, and hoped that he would have our assistance against the Turks. I told him what I thought of his enterprise, and that he was bringing destruction upon the heads of the unfortunate Christians. He assured me that I had been misinformed, that the Christians would join him to a man, and that he should make short work of the Turks, and should at once besiege them in their citadel. I said that I wished him success in that part of his undertaking, and that there would be no time to waste, as the Turkish fleet might, I understood, appear any day. But that, if he undertook siege operations, and his own force proved inadequate, we would land a party to assist him. He hinted that money might be required to support the siege. I told him that I had arranged with the central government that any assistance I had to give in that way should be given through them; but that, if the people of the island really did rise, I should be happy to furnish a thousand muskets and ammunition for their use. Seeing that nothing was to be got out of me he took his leave. He said the landing was to take place in half an hour.”

“Shall we send a party on shore with him, Mr. Beveridge?” Martyn asked.

“No, Martyn. He says he has got two thousand five hundred fighting men ready to land, and that being the case we should be powerless to interfere in any way. Besides, for the present I think it would be best to keep the men on board. I don’t trust the fellow in the slightest; and if he thought the vessel was left weak-handed, he is perfectly capable of making a sudden attack on her. No doubt he thinks we have money untold below, and I should say a great proportion of his vessels are no better than pirates, who have merely joined him in the hope of booty. I know that he has none of the Psara ships with him, for Chios lies so near their island that they would have no wish to draw the vengeance of the Turks upon themselves; and I know that they, as well as the Chiots, sent to Corinth to protest against the expedition. I don’t think he has any of the Hydriot ships with him either. They only sail under their own admirals, and do, to a certain extent, respect the orders of the central government. His ships, I fancy, all belong to the smaller islands, and are the sort of craft that are honest traders one day and pirates the next if they see a chance—the riffraff of the islands, in fact. If they really do besiege the Turks in the citadel, and I see that we can be of any assistance, we will land a party; but at any rate we will take matters quietly until we see how things go.”

“The vessels are all lowering their boats, Captain Martyn,” Tarleton reported.

“Very well, Mr. Tarleton. Let the men go to their quarters, unloose the guns and load with grape. It is quite upon the cards that these fellows may make a sudden dash upon us, thinking to catch us napping.”

The boatswain’s whistle was heard, and then Tom Burdett shouted out: “All hands to quarters! Cast loose the guns and load with grape!” And in a moment a scene of animated bustle succeeded the quiet that had reigned on board the schooner since her anchor had been dropped. In a few minutes, however, the crowded boats left the ships and rowed towards shore.

“That will do, boatswain; you can call the men away from the guns,” said Martyn.

“Shall we take the cartridges out, sir?”

“No, leave them as they are. Put a fold or two of sailcloth over the touch-holes. It is just as well to be on guard as long as we are in the neighbourhood of these slippery gentry. Horace, you take my glass and go aloft, and see if you can make out any Turks in the neighbourhood. It is four or five hours since the Greek fleet first hove in sight, and there is ample time for the Turks to have come down to oppose their landing if they thought themselves strong enough to fight in the open.”

Horace ascended the shrouds, and sitting on the cap of the mainmast examined the shore.

“There are half a dozen horsemen riding about, a short distance from the shore, sir,” he called down, “but I can see no signs of troops anywhere.”

“Then it is evident they don’t mean to fight,” Martyn said to the first lieutenant. “Between ourselves, Miller, I am very glad they are not here to oppose a landing; for if they had been, no doubt the chief would have wanted to fire a few shots to help cover the operations, and I should be sorry to lift even a finger to help in this wretched business. It is like a landing from one of the old buccaneer fleets on the Spanish Main. They used to pretend they went to attack the Spaniards, while in reality they simply fought for plunder. Still, those fellows had courage—plenty of it, which is more, I fancy, than these Greeks are likely to exhibit when they once get in front of the Turks.”

Lykourgos, with his twenty-five hundred men, marched without opposition into the town of Chios, where they burnt the custom-houses, destroyed two mosques, and plundered generally the houses of the inhabitants. They occupied the houses nearest the citadel, and placing riflemen in them opened fire, while a party began to throw up a battery on a commanding position known as Turloti.

The following morning Mr. Beveridge landed, and, accompanied by Miller and Horace, and a party of twenty sailors armed with rifle, cutlass, and pistol, proceeded to Chios. He found the streets of the town in disorder, the troops—or rather the armed men, for they were under neither discipline nor control—were wandering about, occasionally going within sight of the citadel, and discharging their muskets two or three times in that direction. They looked with surprise at the orderly little party of British sailors; but as they supposed these had come to help them, they received them with exclamations of good-will. They visited Turloti, where a score or two of men were working lazily, and then went down to the port, where another battery had also been begun.

“What on earth are they putting up a battery here for?” Miller said. “At this distance they might as well fire potatoes at the citadel. Ask that officer, Horace, what they are up to?”

The Greek replied that they were going to run their trenches forward against the citadel from this point.

“Well, then, they are fonder of work than I gave them credit for,” Miller said when he understood the reply. “If the whole of them were to set to work in earnest, it would take them a month to run their trenches from here up to the citadel, and, at the rate at which they are working now, it would take them a couple of years.”

Returning to the town Mr. Beveridge called upon Lykourgos, who had taken up his quarters in the bishop’s palace. The Greek received him with an air of much greater pomposity than he had shown at their first meeting. He evidently believed that the work was almost accomplished, and that he was already the conqueror of the island.

“I have been doing some good work this morning,” he said. “I have deposed the Demogeronts (the Municipal Council). You know they were poor creatures and lukewarm, and I have appointed a Revolutionary Committee.”

“Indeed!” Mr. Beveridge said gravely. “And what military work have you in hand? It seems to me that the men would be much better employed in working at the batteries than in idling about the streets.”

“The citadel will soon fall,” Lykourgos said loftily. “Cut off from all succour and surrounded by my army they must speedily surrender.”

“Undoubtedly they must, if they were so situated,” Mr. Beveridge said; “but, so far as I see, there is nothing whatever to prevent the Turks from sending reinforcements from the mainland.”

“I am writing to ask the government at Corinth to order the fleet here to blockade the island and oppose the Turkish fleet when they come in sight.”

“That would be excellent,” Mr. Beveridge said; “but the central government are not famous for speed, nor are the ships of Hydra and Psara very apt to obey orders unless these happen to suit their own views. Could you not send a few of those vessels of yours to prevent the Turks from sending reinforcements?”

“That would be quite impossible,” Lykourgos said decidedly. “In the first place, they are mere transports, the greater proportion carrying no guns, and those that do have guns of such light calibre that they could not oppose the Turkish cruisers that would no doubt convoy any vessels bringing Turkish troops across. In the second place, I could not spare a ship, for, were the Turkish fleet to arrive before the Greek fleet comes to my assistance, I should have to re-embark my army at once. I shall soon be in a position to press the siege more vigorously. I have already received messages saying the peasantry among the hills are about to join me.”

Mr. Beveridge, seeing that there was no prospect of any vigorous efforts to restore discipline among the Greeks, returned to the schooner. Day after day passed and nothing whatever was done. A few soldiers, when the fancy took them, worked for an hour or two at the batteries, or fired away their ammunition in the direction of the citadel. Neither Lykourgos nor his committee made any attempt to introduce either discipline among the troops or order in the town.

No news came from Corinth as to the movements of the Greek fleet, but a vessel arrived with a few heavy guns for siege purposes, and also brought several Philhellenes—as foreigners who had come to assist the Greeks were called—to direct the service of the guns.

In consequence of the disorder in the town the position of the better class of Christians became intolerable. Mr. Beveridge landed but seldom. He saw that nothing could be done, and that the expedition must certainly end in disaster, and accordingly preferred to remain on board and await events.

Two of the officers generally landed every day. Some of the men were also allowed to go on shore, but were forbidden to approach the neighbourhood of the town lest they should become involved in quarrels with the Greeks. One day, when Horace was ashore with Tarleton, he spoke sharply to a drunken Greek soldier who ran against him. Presently Tarleton said:

“There has been a Greek following us since you spoke to that drunken man, Horace. He looks a respectable old card. I fancy he wants to speak to you, having heard you talking Greek.”

“Why doesn’t he speak then?” Horace said.

“Perhaps he wants to talk to you in quiet, Horace.”

“Very well. Let us turn down this narrow street. There is no one about, and that will give him a chance of speaking if he wants to.”

The Greek, indeed, quickened his steps as soon as they turned down, and was soon alongside of them.

“You speak Greek, sir?” he said to Horace. “I have been wanting to speak to some of you officers, but this is the first time I have heard one of you speaking Greek.”

“Yes, I speak the language. Is there anything I can do for you, sir?”

“Do you belong to an English ship-of-war, may I ask?”

“No; I belong to an armed ship, which is the property of my father, who is a Philhellene, and has fitted it out at his own expense for the service of Greece, whose flag we now fly.”

“Your sailors are taking no part in the siege of the citadel?”

“No, sir. My father does not think the expedition a useful one, and we are only remaining here to see what takes place, and perhaps to give assistance to any who may need it.”

“We all need it, sir,” the man said eagerly. “We have been robbed and plundered by these ruffians, who call themselves our friends, and when they run away, which they will do directly the Turks come, we shall be held responsible for all their misdeeds, and a terrible vengeance will fall upon us. I was a wealthy man, sir, a fortnight ago; now I would give all I possess to save the lives of my family and myself, and there are eight or ten of my friends in the same position. We have jewels and money, and are ready to pay any sum to be taken off the island before the Turks come. You have but to name a price, and if it is within our means we shall be happy to pay it.”

“We are not Greeks,” Horace said angrily, “to make money out of the miseries of others.” And then, seeing the depressed look of the merchant, he went on more mildly: “We do not wish to make money out of your misfortune, sir; but I will speak to my father, and I think I can answer for him that he will be ready to afford you and your friends and families shelter on board his ship. We lately took five hundred Christians off from Cyprus and landed them on the Ionian Isles. We came out to fight, but my father has since named his ship the Misericordia, and his desire is to help persons in distress, whether they be Turks or Christians. I will speak to him when I return on board, and if you will be here to-morrow at eleven o’clock in the morning I will give you his answer.”

The merchant overwhelmed Horace with thanks.

“What is the old chap so excited about, Horace?” Tarleton asked as they resumed their walk.

Horace repeated the conversation.

“Poor beggars!” Tarleton said. “A nice position they are in! I wish we had the crew of a man-of-war here; we would clear out the town pretty sharply of these ruffians who call themselves soldiers, and send these peasants who are swarming about the streets back to their mountains. I see they have got the muskets your father sent on shore yesterday. Much good will they do them! The men had far better be at home looking after their vineyards and orchards.”

Mr. Beveridge agreed at once to afford shelter to the merchants and their families.

“I thought it would come to this,” he said, “and expected some of them would come off and ask to be taken on board before; but I suppose they did not know our real character. We shall have plenty more applying before this matter is concluded; but I doubt whether Lykourgos and his crew will allow them to come on board so long as they have a penny left to be wrung out of them. The scoundrel ought to be hung, if it was only for being named as he is. It is downright profanation to hear such names as Ulysses, Lycurgus, Leonidas, and Miltiades applied to men who do not seem to possess one single good quality, not even that of courage. Tell them, Horace, that we will carry out any arrangements for getting them off that they may suggest, and that at any hour by night or day the boats shall be at the spot they appoint, and that a strong body of men shall be sent on shore to cover their embarkation.”

Martyn himself accompanied Horace the next morning to shore, as he thought it would be better that he should hear what were the plans of the merchant, and might be able to make suggestions as to their being carried out. The Christian merchant was awaiting them. When they approached he entered the house by the door of which he was standing, and invited them also to enter.

“I know the owner of this house,” he said, “and arranged with him to have a room where we could speak undisturbed. Did any of the officers or soldiers happen to come down the lane when I was speaking to you, suspicion would be at once roused that some plot or other was on foot. Well, sir, what is your father’s answer?”

“He cordially invites you and your friends and their families to take refuge on board his vessel, and he will land you at Athens, Corinth, or in the Ionian Isles, as you may desire.”

The Greek clasped his hands in delight. “Oh, sir, you cannot tell what a load you have taken off my mind, or what we have been suffering of late, with the certainty that ere long the Turks will return.”

“This is Captain Martyn, who commands the vessel,” Horace said; “he has come ashore to concert measures for getting you on board, that is, if you think that there will be any obstacle in the way of your coming off openly.”

“Certainly there will. I am sure they would not allow us to leave. Three of my friends went to Lykourgos yesterday and said they desired to go with their families on board the Greek ships. He got into a fury and threatened to have them thrown into prison as traitors, fined them a thousand piastres each, and said that anyone leaving the island would be deemed a traitor to the cause of Greece and all his property confiscated.”

Horace translated this to Martyn.

“Then they must get off quietly, Horace; ask him if they have formed any plans. Tell him that I will land thirty men and bring them up close to the town, if they can slip off and join us.”

Horace put the question.

“We were talking it over last night,” the merchant said; “it is not easy, because we all have men who call themselves officers quartered in our houses. We think that the best way will be for our daughters and servants, with the exception of one or two, to slip off as soon as it becomes dark, going in pairs and carrying with them all the valuables they can. We ourselves and our wives will remain for two or three hours, so that the men seeing us will suspect nothing. Some of our servants, after escorting the ladies and children beyond the town, can return and take with them another load. It would not do to take large bundles, but the men can carry casks or barrels on their shoulders filled with valuable clothes and stuffs, and as there would be nothing unusual in a man carrying a cask of wine or a barrel of flour, they might pass without exciting suspicion. Then, at the moment agreed, we ourselves might slip away and join the rest.”

“That seems a likely plan,” Martyn said when he understood the details. “Now it is for them to name some spot where we can be awaiting them.”

“We have arranged that,” the Chiot said. “One of my friends has a large farm-house where he and his family take up their residence in summer; it stands half a mile from the town, on the brow looking down upon the sea; it is a white house with two large store-houses for wine and produce standing behind it.”

“I know the house,” Horace said; “the road passes a hundred yards behind it.”

“That is the house, sir. It will be dark by seven o’clock, and at that hour our servants will begin to start. It is probable that most of the children will be sent on there during the day. This could certainly be done without exciting attention. We ourselves will leave our houses as the clock strikes ten.”

“I should think, Martyn,” Horace said when he had translated this, “that we might manage to make things more easy for them if we send Marco on shore with half a dozen men directly we get back to the ship. We can tell him to hire a couple of carts and then to come to these people’s houses. At one they could take into the carts a dozen barrels of wine, that is to say, wine barrels filled with valuables; at another a dozen barrels of flour, at another a cask of currants or olives, and so on. I will go round with them, and it will merely seem as if we were buying stores for the ship. These rich merchants are certain to have the best of everything, and it will be natural that we should choose a time like the present to lay in a stock, and that they would be glad to sell cheaply. Marco and half the men could go with one cart and I could go with the rest with the other. That way we should attract less attention than by both going about in a crowd.”

“I think that is a capital plan, Horace; explain it to him, and get the names and addresses of the people who are going and the houses that each cart should go to, so that they may not cross each other on the way.”

Horace explained the matter to the merchant.

“That is kind indeed,” he exclaimed, “and will enable us to save all our most precious goods without fear of detection. I will go round at once to my friends and tell them to pack up their things. There are ten of us who have agreed to make the attempt together, which will make five houses for each cart to call at.” And taking out his pocket-book he wrote the addresses on two slips of paper.

There was nothing more to arrange.

“It will take us an hour and a half to get on board,” Horace said. “That will be one o’clock. At two we will start, and you may expect the carts to be at the houses somewhere about four.”

He and Martyn walked briskly back to the landing-place, where a boat met them, having put off as soon as they were seen approaching. Mr. Beveridge warmly approved of the plan, and at two o’clock ten sailors were landed. Zaimes as well as Marco accompanied them, and Miller also went to take charge of one party, as it was thought that they were less likely to be questioned if an officer went with them. They stopped at a farm-house by the way and hired two carts. It was arranged that the two Greeks should purchase in the town several carcasses of sheep and a quantity of fruit and vegetables to place on the carts with the other goods, so as to carry out more completely the idea that they were laying in stores for consumption on board, and on their way Zaimes suggested they should also get a small cask or two of currants and a cask of wine for each cart. In packing the goods these should be placed most conspicuously, so that if necessary they could knock in the head of the cask with currants, or bore holes in that with the wine, and show that the contents were what they seemed to be.

The operation was carried out without difficulty. At each place they visited, casks and barrels were at once rolled out from the warehouses and placed in the carts. There had evidently been an arrangement between the various families as to quantity, and by the time the last houses were visited the carts were filled to their full capacity, and the meat, vegetables, and fruit piled on the top of all. There was some joking from the soldiers as the carts passed down the streets, but the sight of the meat and vegetables dispelled any suspicions, and the Greeks joked back in return. Neither party knew how the other was getting on, as they had not caught sight of each other after separating before entering the town. Horace was first to reach the spot, a mile out, where they had agreed that whichever came first should await the other. In ten minutes the second party was seen coming in the distance, and when it arrived within a quarter of a mile Horace moved forward again.

Tarleton with the three largest boats was awaiting their coming on the beach abreast of the schooner, and by the time the contents of the first cart were transferred to the boats the second arrived. As soon as everything was on board the drivers of the carts were paid the sum agreed upon, and the boats rowed off to the schooner.

“Have you had any difficulty?” Mr. Beveridge asked as they came alongside.

“Not the slightest, father,” Horace replied. “We were chaffed a little about our stores, but no one had the least suspicion that they were not what they seemed.”

The casks were soon got on board and were slung down into the hold.

“What do you suppose they contain, father?” Horace asked.

“Well, of course all their jewels and money are in them, and no doubt all their valuable dresses. I expect that the bulk is made up of silk and brocades, most of which is extremely costly. Then there will be embroidered stuffs, some of the more valuable of which are worth almost a fortune in themselves. Chios is an extremely rich island and its revenues are a special appanage of the Sultan and his harem, and doubtless the merchants here supply the ladies of the court with many of their most valued robes and embroideries.”

While the boats had been ashore the sailors had again rigged up the screen across the main-deck for the use of the ladies and children, and had also made a smaller compartment for the use of the merchants. “There is one comfort,” Miller said, “as these people are swells they are not likely to turn the ship into such a pig-stye as that last lot did. How many do you suppose there will be, Horace?”

“I suppose they will run seven or eight to a family, that is seventy-five, and likely enough they may bring five or six men and women servants with each family; so I suppose you may calculate on a hundred and fifty, Miller.”

“Ah! well, we can manage that. I should like to see the face of that fellow Lykourgos to-morrow morning when he finds that some of the men out of whom he had expected to make most money have slipped through his fingers.”

As soon as it became dark thirty men were landed, armed to the teeth. Miller took command, and Horace accompanied him with the two Greeks to assist to look after the fugitives. When they reached the farm-house they found about thirty young children with their nurses assembled there with some eight or ten older girls. They were evidently in a state of great alarm, but their spirits rose when Horace and the Greeks entered and told them that a guard of English sailors were without and that there was no longer a fear of their being discovered by any straggling soldiers who might chance to visit the house. In a short time the servants, accompanied by young women and boys, began to arrive. Most of them carried bundles, and their bulky appearance suggested that they had put on a large quantity of clothes under the plain dresses they wore. The men all carried barrels or boxes. These all returned to the town and came back by half-past nine with another load.

Some excellent wine was served out to the sailors by the man who was in charge of the house, who told Horace that he had received orders from his master that the sailors were to carry away as many barrels of wine as they could take for the use of the schooner; and as it was certain that its owner would never have an opportunity of drinking it, Horace did not hesitate to accept the present, and thirty barrels of wine, each containing about five gallons, were brought out and placed in readiness for the sailors to take up.

“What are you going to do about your loads?” Horace asked one of the servants.

“We have orders, sir, to carry one of them as we go with you, and then when the others go off to the ship to return here for the second, if you will consent to our doing so.”

“Certainly,” Horace said. “There can be no possible objection to that, providing we all get down to the beach without any alarm being given, and of that I do not think there is any likelihood. The soldiers will have all returned to their quarters before this. The only chance is of our coming across parties of sailors returning to their ships. None of these would be strong enough to interfere with us, and even if they reported the matter when they got on board, I should say that none of the captains would feel sufficient interest in the news to take any steps about it.”

Soon after ten o’clock the merchants with their wives and grown-up sons began to arrive, and by half-past the last of the party were in. No further time was lost. Fifteen of the sailors, each with a barrel of wine on his shoulder, led the way under Lieutenant Miller. The merchants and their families followed, then came the servants with Horace and the rest of the sailors as rear-guard. The road was entirely deserted, and they reached the shore without encountering a single person. As soon as they did so, Horace told the servant men to set down their burdens and start back at once. The merchants with their wives and families were first transferred to the schooner, the sailors on shore taking charge of the rest of the fugitives and the baggage. Another trip conveyed the remaining Chiots to the vessel. When the boats returned the casks and barrels of wine were placed on board, and the sailors then took their places and rowed off. Horace found that the first party had already retired. Hammocks had been slung for the women and children, the female attendants sleeping on the deck. The merchants and their sons occupied a compartment screened off for them. The men-servants coiled themselves away between the guns on deck.

The two Greeks had gone off in the first boat, and already prepared some supper, to which Martyn and Horace sat down.

“I did not wait for you,” Mr. Beveridge said, “as I knew that it must be half-past eleven by the time you reached the shore, and another good half-hour before you were off. Poor people! their gratitude was quite distressing; the men considered that it was certain they would be massacred by the Turks, and their women carried off as slaves. I was obliged at last in self-defence to pack them off to bed. The women all wanted to kiss my hand, which would have been well enough for you young fellows, for some of the girls are lovely. The Chiots are celebrated for their good looks; but for a man my age it would have been simply embarrassing.”

“Perhaps they will renew the demonstrations to-morrow,” Miller laughed. “If so, I shall get Horace to explain to them delicately that our English custom is to salute on the face and not on the hand. I did not see any of the girls. I left it to Horace to do the polite indoors, while I kept a lookout with the men outside. I don’t know whether he came in for any kisses; if so, he kept it to himself.”

“No,” Horace laughed. “They were all too anxious about their parents’ safety to think of doing the civil thing to me; but, as you say, Martyn, there will be time enough to-morrow when we see what they are like. I expect to-morrow we shall have Lykourgos or some of his officers off here to protest.”

“That we sha’n’t,” Martyn said, “for we will get up the anchor at daybreak and be off before anyone knows what has happened. Your father agrees with me that the best plan will be to get rid of this cargo at once, and then we can come back again for another.”

“I have asked them where they would like to be landed,” Mr. Beveridge said, “and they had already agreed among themselves to go to Corfu. In the first place they have no love for the Greeks of the mainland, with whom they are furious for bringing destruction upon the island by coming here without a sufficient force to hold the citadel even if they captured it, and they would vastly rather be landed under the protection of the British flag. They will have time to settle afterwards where they will make their homes.”