Page 22 of In Greek Waters: A Story of the Grecian War of Independence

  CHAPTER XXI

  THE "MISERICORDIA" AGAIN

  Before starting, the disguises of Horace and the doctor wereperfected. They were so bronzed by the sun and air that their skin wasno fairer than that of many Turks of the better class; but it wasthought as well to apply a slight tinge of dye to them, and to darkenthe doctor's eyelashes and eyebrows with henna. The hair was cutclosely off the nape of the neck, below the line to which the turban,properly adjusted, came down, and the skin was stained to match thatof their faces. The garments they wore formed part of Ahmed'swardrobe, and only needed somewhat more careful adjustment than theyhad at first received. The ladies came up to bid them farewell; but,as it had been arranged that in the course of a few days, when inquiryshould have ceased, the bey, with his wife and daughters, should alsoproceed to their country residence, they would meet again ere long.Mourad was to accompany them, and putting a large box on hisshoulders, filled with changes of clothes and other necessaries, hefollowed them down the street.

  In a short time they were in a busy thoroughfare, the number of peoplebecoming larger and larger as they went down towards the water.Janissaries in their showy uniform swaggered along, soldiers of theline, merchants, and peasants, while _hamals_ staggering along underenormous burdens swung from bamboo poles, made their way, keeping up aconstant shout to the crowd to clear the road. State functionariesmoved gravely along on their way to the offices of the Porte. Veiledwomen, with children in their arms or clinging to them, stopped totalk to each other in the streets or bargained with the traders at thelittle shops. Military officers and Turks of the upper class rodealong on showy horses, prancing and curvetting and scattering the footpassengers right and left.

  Ahmed and his companions kept straight on, paying apparently noattention to what was going on around them, Ahmed occasionally makinga remark in Turkish, the others keeping silent.

  When they reached the water-side a number of boatmen surrounded Ahmed,who soon found two men whom he had frequently employed. The caique wasbrought alongside. Ahmed had already told Horace to step in withouthesitation with his companion, and to take their seats at the bottomof the boat in the stern, while he and Mourad would sit between themand the boatmen. The latter took their places, and each seized a pairof the sculls. These, which were much lighter than the sculls of anEnglish boat, were round with a long broad blade. They were not inrollocks, but in a strap of leather fastened to a single thole-pin;inside this they thickened to a bulk of three or four inches indiameter, narrowing at the extremity for the grip of the hand. Thisthick bulge gave an excellent balance to the sculls, and was renderednecessary by the fact that the boats were high out of water, and thelength of the sculls outboard disproportionately large to thatinboard.

  A few vigorous strokes by the rowers sent the boat out into the openwater. Then the forward oarsman let his sculls hang by their thongsalongside, took out four long pipes from the bottom of the caique,filled and lighted them, and passed them aft to the passengers, andthen again betook himself to his sculls. Bearing gradually across theyreached the other side below Scutari, and then kept along the shore ata distance of a hundred yards from the land. Ahmed chatted to theoarsman next to him, and to Mourad, occasionally making some remark tothe others in Turkish in reference to the pretty kiosks that fringedthe shore; enforcing what he said by pointing to the objects of whichhe was speaking. They assumed an appearance of interest at what he wassaying, and occasionally Horace, who was next to him, talked to him inlow tones in Greek, so that the boatman should not catch the words,Ahmed each time replying in Turkish in louder tones.

  No class of boatmen in the world row with the vigour and strength withwhich those of the Bosphorus--who are for the most part Albanians--plytheir sculls, and both Horace and the doctor were struck with surpriseand admiration at the steady and unflagging way in which the menrowed, their breath seeming to come no quicker, though theperspiration stood in beads on their brown faces and muscular arms,and streamed down their swarthy chests, which were left bare by theopen shirts of almost filmy material of snowy whiteness. Once only inthe two hours' journey did they cease rowing and indulge for fiveminutes in a smoke; after which they renewed their labours with asmuch vigour as when they first started.

  "That is the kiosk," Ahmed said at last, pointing to one standing byitself near the water's edge on a projecting point of land, and in afew minutes the caique swept in to the stairs. Ahmed had quietlypassed a few small silver coins into Horace's hand, whispering inGreek:

  "Give them these as you land; an extra tip is always welcome."

  Then he paid the men as he got out, saying to them:

  "I expect the ladies in a few days. You had better go up each morningto the house, and then you can secure the job."

  Horace dropped the coins into the boatman's hand, with a nod, as hestepped out, and then they walked up to the house. The boatmen againlighted their pipes for a smoke before starting back on their longrow. The kiosk was shut up. Mourad opened the door with a key, andthrew the shutters open.

  "I wonder you leave the place entirely shut up," Horace said.

  "There is nothing to steal," Ahmed laughed. "A few mats for the floorsand cushions for the divans. The cooking pots and crockery are lockedup in a big chest; there is little else. There are a few vases forflowers and other ornaments stowed away in a cupboard somewhere, butaltogether there is little to tempt robbers; and, indeed, there arevery few of them about. The houses are always left so, and it is analmost unknown thing for them to be disturbed. You see everything isleft clean and dusted, so the place is always ready when we like torun down for a day or two. The house has not been used much lately,for my parents and sisters have been two years at Athens, and I havebeen frequently away at our estates, which lie some fifteen miles westof Constantinople. Now we will take a turn round, while Mourad isgetting dinner ready."

  The latter had brought with him, in addition to the box, a largebasket containing charcoal, provisions, and several black bottles.

  "There is a village half a mile farther along the shore, where he willdo his marketing to-morrow," Ahmed had explained as he pointed to thebasket.

  The garden was a rough triangle, two sides being washed by the water,while a high wall running across the little promontory formed thethird side. It was some sixty or seventy yards each way; the housestood nearly in the middle; the ground sloped down on either side ofit to the water, and was here clear of shrubs, which covered the restof the garden, interspersed with a few shady trees. There were seatsplaced under these, and a small summer-house, surrounded on threesides by high shrubs but open to the water, stood at the end of thepoint.

  "It is a little bit of a place, as you see," Ahmed said; "but mymother and the girls are very fond of it, and generally stay hereduring the hot season. It is quite secluded, and at the same time theyhave a good view of everything going up and down the Sea of Marmora;and if there is any breeze at all, it sweeps right through the house."

  "It is charming," Horace said. "With a boat here, one could not wantanything better."

  "We always have a boat, with two men, while we are here," Ahmed said."The two men who rowed us have been with us two or three seasons. Myfather often wants to go into Constantinople, and I generally go whenhe does. We usually sleep at our house there, and come back the nextevening. If the ladies want to go out while we are away, they can geta caique at the village."

  After they had taken a turn round the garden they went into the houseagain. The principal room on the ground-floor was at the end of thehouse, and occupied its full width. The windows extended entirelyround three sides of it, a divan, four feet wide, running below them.

  "You see, on a hot day," Ahmed said, "and with all these windows open,it is almost like being in the open air; and whichever way the windis, we can open or close those on one side, according to itsstrength."

  The ceiling and the wall on the fourth side of the room were colouredpink, with arabesques in white. The windows extended from the level ofthe diva
n up to the ceiling, and were of unpainted wood varnished, aswas the wood-work of the divan. The floor was very carefully andevenly laid, and the planks planed and varnished. Beyond two or threelittle tables of green-painted wood, there was no furniture whateverin the room. Outside the windows were jalousies or perforatedshutters, which could be closed during the heat of the day to keep theroom dark and cool.

  Mourad had already got out the cushions and pillows and spread them onthe divan; had placed a small iron bowl full of lighted charcoal in alow box full of sand in the centre of the room, and a brass casketfull of tobacco on one of the tables. Half a dozen chibouks, withamber mouthpieces and cherry or jasmine-wood stems, leant in a corner.

  Three of the pipes were soon filled, and a piece of glowing charcoal,taken from the fire with a pair of small tongs lying beside it, wasplaced on each bowl. A few puffs were taken to get the tobacco alight,then the pieces of charcoal were dropped into the fire again, andshaking off their slippers they took their seats on the cushions ofthe divan.

  "It is very unfortunate that your friend does not speak Greek," Ahmedbegan.

  "Yes, it is unfortunate for him," Horace said as he translated theremark to Macfarlane.

  "If I had known that my lot was going to be cast out here," the doctorsaid, "I would have insisted on learning modern Greek instead ofancient at school--that is, if I could have got a dominie who couldhave taught me. It is a very serious drawback, especially when youknow that people are talking of things that may or may not mean thatyou are going to get your throat cut in an hour or so. For the lasttwo days I seem to have been just drifting in the dark."

  "But I always translate to you as much as I can, doctor."

  "You do all that, Horace, and I will say this that you do your best;but it is unsatisfactory getting things at second hand. One likes toknow precisely how things are said. However, as matters have gonethere is nothing to grumble at, though where one's life is concernedit is a natural weakness that one should like to have some sort ofsay in the matter, instead of feeling that one is the helpless sportof fate."

  Horace laughed, and Ahmed smiled gravely, when he translated thedoctor's complaint.

  "It comes all the harder to me," the doctor went on, "because I havealways liked to know the why and the wherefore of a matter before Idid it. I must confess that since I have been in the navy that wishhas been very seldom gratified. Captains are not in the habit ofgiving their reasons to their surgeons, overlooking the factaltogether that these are scientific men, and that their opinion onmost subjects is valuable. They have too much of the spirit of thecenturion of old. They say 'Do this,' and it has to be done, 'You willaccompany the boats, Dr. Macfarlane,' or 'You will not accompany theboats.' I wonder sometimes that, after an action, they don't come downinto the cockpit and say, 'You will cut off this leg,' or 'This arm isnot to be amputated.' The highness-and-mightiness of a captain in HisMajesty's navy is something that borders on the omnipotent. There is amaxim that the king can do no wrong; but a king is a poor falliblebody in comparison with a captain."

  "Well, I don't think you have anything to complain of with Martyn,"Horace laughed.

  "Martyn is only an acting-captain, Horace, and it is not till they getthe two swabs on their shoulders that the dignity of their positionmakes itself felt. A first lieutenant begins, as a rule, to take thedisease badly, but it is not till he gets his step that it takesentire possession of him. I have even known a first lieutenant listento argument. It's rare, lad, very rare, but I have known such a thing;as for a captain, argument is as bad as downright open mutiny. Well,this is a comfortable place that we have got into, at least in hotweather, but I should say that an ice-house would be preferable inwinter. These windows don't fit anyhow, and there would be a draftthrough them that would be calculated to establish acute rheumatismin the system in the course of half an hour."

  "The house is not used at all in winter," Ahmed said, when heunderstood the nature of the doctor's criticisms. "Almost all thekiosks along here belong to people in the town, and are closedentirely for four months of the year. We are fond of warmth, and whenthe snow is on the ground, and there is a cold wind blowing, therewould be no living here in any comfort."

  Six days passed. Ahmed went once to Constantinople to learn what wasgoing on. He brought back news that the escape of the two Englishprisoners had caused a great sensation at the Porte, that all theofficers in the regiments there had been paraded in order that theboatmen and the officers of the brig might pick out the one who hadbrought off the order, but that naturally no one had been identified.The soldiers had also been inspected, but as none of these had beenparticularly noticed by the boatmen, the search for those engaged hadbeen equally unsuccessful. Fazli Bey had been severely interrogated,his servants questioned, and his house searched, but nothing had beenfound to connect him in any way with the escape. A vigilant watch hadbeen set upon every European ship in port, and directions had beensent that every vessel passing down the straits was to bring-to offthe castles, and to undergo a strict search.

  Ahmed said that his father had heard from Fazli Bey that while theSultan was furious at the manner in which the prisoners had beenreleased, it was against those who had taken part in it that his angerwas principally directed, and that it was thought he was at heart notaltogether sorry that the two men who had befriended the Turks atAthens had got off, although he would not have wavered in his ownexpressed determination to put to death without exception allforeigners who had aided the Greeks. "My father has not at presentthought of any plan for getting you away," Ahmed said. "The search istoo rigorous, and no master of a vessel would dare to carry you off;but in a short time the matter will be forgotten, and the search inthe port and in the Dardanelles will be slackened. It causes a greatdeal of trouble and inconvenience, and the officials will soon beginto relax their efforts. It is one of our national characteristics, youknow, to hate trouble. My father will be here with the others in acouple of days, and then we will hold a council over it."

  The next day a boat arrived with carpets and hangings for the roomsupstairs, which were entirely devoted to the females of the household;and on the following evening Osman Bey, with his wife and daughters,arrived in the same caique that Ahmed had come in, two female servantswith a quantity of luggage coming in another boat. The next few dayspassed very pleasantly. The ladies took their meals apart upstairs,but at other times sat in the room below, treating Horace and thedoctor as if they were members of the family. There were manydiscussions as to the best method of effecting their escape, and Ahmedwent twice to Constantinople to ascertain whether the search for themwas being relaxed.

  At last he and his father agreed that it would be the best plan forthem to go to Izmid, and to take a passage from there if some smallcraft could be found sailing for Chios, or one of the southern portsor islands. Ahmed was to accompany them, and was first to go to Izmidto make the necessary arrangements. He knew many merchants in theport, and as some of these were intimate friends they would probablybe disposed to assist those who had rendered so great a service toOsman Bey and his family, but at the same time Ahmed said: "You mustnot be impatient. The news of your being carried off by sham soldiers,as they say, after their having assaulted and robbed the officer whowas bearer of the order for your delivery, has made a great talk, andI shall have to be very careful as to how I open the subject."

  "Pray run no risks," Horace said. "You have all done so already, andwe should be unhappy, indeed, were any ill-fortune to befall you oryour family for what you have done for us. We are very comfortablehere. I would much rather wait for some really favourable opportunitythan hazard your safety, to say nothing of our own, by impatience. Itis but a fortnight since we made our escape."

  "I am going up the Bosphorus to-morrow," Ahmed said. "I have to seea bey whose property adjoins ours, and who has a kiosk some distanceabove Scutari. It is only a question of business, and I shall not bemany minutes. I shall be glad if you will go with me; you can remainin the boat. The rowers are
so accustomed to see you that they canhave no curiosity about you; besides, now that they are regularly inour service, and sleep and live here, there is no one for them togossip with, and, indeed, as we are good patrons of theirs I do notthink they would say anything about you, whatever they might suspect."

  "I suppose you can take us both, Ahmed?"

  "Certainly I meant that, of course. Your friend would find it dullindeed alone here."

  Accordingly the next morning they started. When they neared Scutarithey saw on the other side of the water a brig making her way in fromthe Dardanelles.

  "That is a slovenly-looking craft, doctor, with those dirtyill-fitting sails; rather a contrast that to our schooner. I wonderwhere she is and what she is doing. That brig is about her size too,and the hull is not unlike hers, looking at it from here."

  The doctor gazed at the craft intently. "Eh, man," he said in lowtones, grasping his companion's arm tightly, "I believe that it is ourcraft, Horace."

  "What, that dirty looking brig, doctor, with her sides looking asrusty as if she had not had a coat of paint for the last year!"

  "It's the schooner disguised. It is easy enough, lad, to alter therig, and to get hold of dirty sails and to dirty the paint, but youcan't alter the shape. No Greek, or Turk either, ever turned out thehull of that brig."

  "It is marvellously like the schooner," Horace said. "I should almosthave sworn that it was her."

  "It is the schooner, lad. How she got there, and what she is doing, Idon't know, but it is her."

  "What is it?" Ahmed asked. "What is there curious in that brig thatyou are so interested in her?"

  "We both think it is our schooner, Ahmed; the one in which we tookyour father and mother from Athens in."

  "That!" Ahmed exclaimed incredulously; "why, my sisters were alwayssaying what a beautiful vessel it was, with snow-white sails."

  "So she had, Ahmed; but if it is the schooner she is disguisedaltogether. They have taken down her top-masts and put those stumpyspars in instead; they have put up yards and turned her into a brig;they have got sails from somewhere and slackened all her ropes, andmade her look dirty and untidy; still we both think that it is her.Please tell the boatmen to cross to the vessel and row alongside."

  Ahmed gave the order, and as the caique shot away from the shore said:"But how could it be your ship? Do you think that she has beencaptured? If not, she could not have ventured up here."

  "She has not been captured," Horace said confidently, "and if she hadbeen her captors would not have taken the trouble to spoil herappearance. If that is the schooner they have come up to makeinquiries about us, and to try to rescue us if possible."

  It was fully two miles across, and as they approached the brig thedoctor and Horace became more and more convinced that they were notmistaken.

  "Please tell the men to pull in behind her," Horace said, "so that wecan see her better. There can be no mistake about her if we can catcha sight of her fore and aft."

  When they fell into the brig's wake they were some three hundred yardsastern of her, and the last vestige of doubt disappeared as they sawher great breadth and fine run.

  "That is my father's craft, Ahmed, I could swear to her now. Will youtell the men to row up alongside."

  There were only four or five men visible on deck in the ordinary dressof Turkish sailors. As the caique came alongside a man put his headover the rail and asked in Turkish "what they wanted?"

  "We want to come on board," Ahmed said; "we have business with thecaptain."

  "I am the captain," the man said; "are you one of the port officers?"

  "Drop astern to the chains," Ahmed said to the boatmen, who werehanging on by a boat-hook. They let the caique fall aft her ownlength, and then, seizing the shrouds, the doctor and Horace sprang upon to the chains and then leapt on board, Ahmed following them moreslowly. There was no doubt that it was the schooner, though her deckswere covered with dirt and litter, and the paint of her bulwarksdiscoloured as if they had been daubed with mud which had been allowedto dry. The sailors looked up as if in surprise at the suddenappearance of the strangers on their deck. Horace glanced at them. Heknew none of their faces.

  "Well, sir," the captain said, coming up, "may I again ask what youwant with us?"

  "You talk to him, Ahmed," Horace said in Greek. "We will run below;"and at a bound he was at the top of the companion and sprang down intothe cabin. "Father," he shouted, "are you here?"

  The door of the main cabin opened, and a Turk with a flowing whitebeard made his appearance.

  "My dear father, is it you?"

  "Why, Horace, Horace, my dear boy, where do you come from, whatmiracle is this?" And in a moment they were clasped in each other'sarms. A moment later a tall Nubian rushed out and seized Horace'shand.

  "Why, Martyn, you don't mean to say it is you in this disguise?"

  "It is indeed, Horace. I am delighted to see you, lad; and you too,doctor. I had never thought to clap eyes on you again;" and he shookhands heartily with Macfarlane, as also did Mr. Beveridge.

  "I seem to be in a dream," the latter said; "how do you come here,what has happened?"

  "I may say the same, father; but first, where are Miller, Tarleton,and the crew?"

  "They are all down in the hold," Martyn said; "they are all inhiding."

  "I have a friend on deck, father; he is the son of one of the Turks wesaved at Athens. He and his friends saved our lives, and have beenconcealing us since they got us away. I expect he is having somedifficulty with the man who calls himself captain."

  "Come up with me then, Horace, and we will fetch him down; and I willtell Iskos that it is all right."

  As soon as they reached the deck Mr. Beveridge explained to thesupposed captain that these were the friends he had come to find, andthat all was well.

  Martyn had also come up. "What had we better do now, Martyn?"

  Martyn looked up at the sails, and at the water, "Fortunately the windis dying out fast," he said. "I don't think we are making way againstthe current now, and we shall certainly not do so long. Hold on a fewminutes longer, Iskos, and then anchor. It will seem as if we couldnot get up against the stream to the other shipping. If you see a boatcoming off, let us know. They will probably be sending off to look atour papers; but perhaps they may not trouble about it till we get upto the regular anchorage. Now, Mr. Beveridge, we will go down belowand gladden their hearts there."

  The main-deck was filled with casks, bales, and merchandise of allsorts, and the hatchways of the hold covered with sacks of flour.Macfarlane joined them, and aided Martyn and Horace in removing thesacks. Horace saw as he did so that what appeared a solid pile wasreally hollow, and that the hatchway was only partially closed so asto allow a certain amount of air to pass down below. The bags were butpartly removed when there was a rush from below, Miller and Tarletonwith their cutlasses in hand, followed by the sailors withboarding-pikes dashed through the opening. They paused in astonishmentupon seeing only Martyn, Mr. Beveridge, and three Turkish gentlemen,but as they recognized Horace and the doctor, the officers threw downtheir swords and with a shout of joy seized them by the hand. Thesailors close behind them broke into a cheer which swelled into a roaras the men below gathered the news that their two officers hadreturned.

  "The men can come up between decks, Miller," Martyn said. "Let themhave a stiff ration of grog all round. Boatswain, see that the sacksare piled again as before, leaving two or three out of their place toallow the men to go down again if necessary. If the word is passedthat a boat is coming off, let them hurry back again and replace thesacks carefully after them as they go down."

  The sailors continued pouring up through the hatchway, and behind themcame the two Greeks, whose joy at seeing Horace was excessive.

  "Now," Mr. Beveridge said, "let us adjourn to the cabin and hear allabout this wonderful story."

  On entering the main cabin Horace found that its appearance, like thatof the rest of the ship, had been completely altered, all the h
andsomefittings had been removed, and the whole of the woodwork painted withwhat he thought must have been a mixture of white paint and mud, sodirty and dingy did it appear.

  "Now, father, in the first place I must properly introduce my friendAhmed to you all. He is the son of Osman Bey, who was one of theprincipal Turks of the party we took to Tenedos, as no doubt youremember; it is to him and his father, aided by Fazli Bey, and thebimbashi who was in command of the troops, and some of thesoldiers, that we owe our lives."

  THE DOCTOR TELLS THE STORY]

  This was said in Greek, and while Mr. Beveridge was expressing hisgratitude to Ahmed, Horace repeated the same in English to the threeofficers, who warmly shook hands with the young Turk. Marco and hisbrother placed refreshments of all kinds on the table.

  Ahmed partook of them sparingly, and then said to Horace: "Of courseyou will not be returning with me now. I think I had better be goingon, it will be dark before I have done my business and get back again;and besides, the boatmen will be wondering at my long stay here."

  "I am afraid your father will think us horribly ungrateful if we gooff without thanking him and your mother for all their kindness tous," Horace said; "but of course we must be getting out of this assoon as we can."

  "My father and mother will be delighted to hear that you have sosuddenly and unexpectedly got out of your difficulties," Ahmed said,"and that in a manner from which no suspicion can possibly arise tous. What we have done has been but a small return for the service yourendered us."

  Mr. Beveridge added his warmest thanks to those of Horace, and Ahmedthen went up with the others on to the deck and took his place in thecaique; Horace making a present of a small gold piece to each of theboatmen. Ahmed said good-bye to him and the doctor in Turkish,expressing the hope that when they got back to Cyprus they would writeto him, a message that Iskos afterwards translated to Horace. As soonas he had rowed away the rest of them returned to the cabin.

  "And now for the story," Mr. Beveridge said as they took their placesround the table.

  "The doctor shall tell it," Horace said. "He has had no chance oftalking for the last fortnight, and it is only fair he should have histurn now."

  The doctor accordingly, in his slow and deliberate way, related thewhole story of their adventures from the time they landed from theschooner until their return on board, a narration which lasted nearlytwo hours.

  Then Martyn related what had happened on board since. "You know," hesaid, "that directly we heard the firing on shore and saw the boatrowing off we began to get ready to send a strong party off. You canimagine how horrified we were when, on the boat coming alongside, wefound you were both missing. The beggars fired away at us as we rowedashore, but they bolted before we reached it, and when we made a rushinto the village, it was empty. We could find no one to ask questionsof, for, as we found afterwards, they had all made off while thebrigands were firing at us. However, as there were no signs of you itwas evident the only thing to do was to follow the ruffians, and offwe set. We chased them four miles, but they scattered directly theyleft the village and we only came up with two of them. Unfortunatelythey showed fight, and the sailors cut them down before we could comeup.

  "After searching about for some time we thought the best plan was togo back to the village. There we quartered ourselves among the houses,and, as you have been telling us, the man came with a letter. Wenoticed how you had worded it and had underscored the names, and wesaw the fellows did not know that you were the son of the owner, soyour father pretended to hang back for a bit. As soon as the man hadgone off with the message we thought that it was all right, andeveryone was in the highest spirits. Of course there was nothing to donext day, but the following morning Mr. Beveridge and Miller went offwith thirty men, as the time named for giving you up was one o'clock.

  "We began to expect them back at four, and as the hours went on I wasin a regular stew. I did not like to land, and as I had only twentymen I was afraid of weakening her further, as we should have been inan awkward fix if a Turkish man-of-war had come along; however, atnine o'clock I sent Tarleton ashore with five men to see if he couldgather some news from the villagers, who had all come back again soonafter the brigands had left. It was not till after eleven o'clock thathe came off, with the news that the party had returned and had heardnothing of you.

  "Next morning one of the boats came off with Mr. Beveridge. Half anhour before a Greek had come in and stated that he was one of theparty bringing you down to the place agreed upon when they weresuddenly fired upon from a wood. Two of the party fell dead and therest ran and were hotly pursued for some distance. He was unable tosay what had become of you, nor did he know who the men were who hadattacked them, except that they were certainly Albanians. We held acouncil, and then I started off with Tarleton and ten men and Marco.Mr. Beveridge wanted to go, but I persuaded him not to, for it wasmorally certain that we should not find you, and all we could hope forwas to get some sort of clue, and if the Albanians were still in theneighbourhood Marco would have opened negotiations with them for aransom. The man who had brought the news acted as guide. We found thebodies of his comrades who had been killed, but no signs of you, whichwas a comfort in one way. It was pretty evident that you had both beencarried off.

  "We had taken with us a dozen men from the village to which you wereto have been sent, and we offered what to them must have been a bigreward for news as to these Albanians. So after finding the bodies wesent them off in different directions, and went back to their village.Late in the evening they straggled in. They had done their work well,spreading all over the country and getting hold of shepherds andcharcoal-burners and wood-cutters; and they were able to tell us forcertain that the Albanians had come over the range of hills between usand Thessaly. They had been doing a good deal of plundering and somemurdering, had destroyed two small villages at the foot of themountains, and had been seen soon after the hour at which you musthave been captured making their way back. They assured us that thetroops of Ali Pasha lay in the plain beyond the hills, and that,doubtless, the Albanians had taken you to him. We had a good long restin the afternoon, and as I knew what a state of anxiety your fatherwas in we started at once and got on board at four o'clock in themorning. We had a long talk over what was the best thing to be done,and resolved at any rate to sail out of the bay and round the Cape,and then keep along the coast until we were off Thessaly.

  "As soon as it was daylight we weighed anchor. The wind was so lightthat it took us two days to get there, and half that time at least, Ishould say, the men were in the boats towing. Marco had volunteered toland and make his way to the Turkish camp to try to find out what hadbecome of you. We landed him at night; he bought from some of thevillagers a suit of their clothes, and in twenty-four hours came downagain to the boat we had sent ashore for him with the news that youhad been sent to Constantinople; that you had been taken by an escortof cavalry down to the little port at the mouth of the river thatflows in between Ossa and Olympus; that he had seen some of thesoldiers who formed your escort, who told him that they had seen yougo on board a Turkish brig-of-war with their officer and two of theircomrades who had accompanied you.

  "This was horrible news, and as the brig had got four days' startthere was little chance of our catching her. For another three days wewere almost becalmed. We had every stitch of canvas set and yet mostof the time we had not even steerage-way. The men behaved splendidly,and all the time, day and night, we had two boats out ahead towing;and on the fourth day we arrived off Tenedos. Then we got a breezeagain, and soon afterwards picked up a fishing-boat. From them welearned that the brig had lain becalmed two days off the town, thatsome of the people that we brought from Athens had gone out withlittle presents of fruit to you and had seen you.

  "We anchored that night a short distance from the town, for therewere no Turkish ships of war there. At night a boat came off with awoman whom we had brought from Athens, and she told us that herhusband, a discharged soldier, had gone to Constantinople t
o tell someof the people whom we brought from Athens that two of our officers hadbeen captured, and to ask them to do what they could to save yourlives. We did not think anything of it, though of course it waspleasant to see that some of the people were grateful, and Mr.Beveridge made her a handsome present, which I will do her the justiceto say she refused until he almost had to force it upon her. Knowinghow bitter the Sultan is against foreigners in the Greek service, andthat after the harm we had done he was not likely to be specially welldisposed towards us, the thing seemed almost hopeless. The two Greeksvolunteered if we would put them ashore to the west of the straits tomake their way to Constantinople, but as it did not seem to us thatthey could do any good that idea was given up.

  "At last Tarleton proposed that we should disguise the schooner and goup ourselves. He admitted that the betting was a hundred to oneagainst our being able to help you in any way, especially as it wasalmost certain you would have been hung a few hours after you gotthere. Still, if that had been put off, and you should be in a prison,there was just the possibility we might land at night, make our way tothe prison, blow in the gate, get you out, and make our way across thecountry to some place where the boats would be waiting for us, and beon board before daylight. It was certainly a desperate undertaking,but as none of us could think of any other plan, we agreed it would bewell to try it, so we sailed at once to Athens.

  "We had a great debate whether it would not be better to buy someTurkish brig that had been brought in as a prize; but we finallyagreed to stick to the schooner, for if we were discovered on the way,or if we did get you on board, we should have to sail, and we knewthat nothing the Turks have got could outsail the schooner. We workedhard at Athens. We sent down the tall spars, got those clumsy polesup in their place, got up yards, and turned her into a brig. Then webought a lot of old sails, and, as you see, turned her into aslubberly-looking a craft as you will meet even in these seas. Then wefilled her up between decks with goods we bought out of some prizesbrought in by the Hydriots, dirtied her decks, threw acid down hersides to take off the paint, took down the cabin fittings, as you see,and daubed over the woodwork with dirty paint. It was enough to makeone cry to see the _Misericordia_ spoilt. It was like disguising agirl of fashion as a dirty gipsy.

  "While we had been at this work the two Greeks had been on shore, andhad gathered up eight men who spoke Turkish as well as Greek. The mostintelligent we made captain, with two officers under him. We got thepapers from a Turkish prize, a brig about the same size which had beencaptured by the Hydriots on her way from Rhodes to Constantinople.Then it was agreed that your father should disguise himself as a Turk,a respectable land-owner of Rhodes, going as a passenger toConstantinople, with myself as his Nubian servant. That way we couldstay on deck. When all was ready we started. The crew kept on decktill we got near the Dardanelles, and then stowed themselves away inthe hold as you saw. We were stopped at the castle, but as the paperswere all right there was no suspicion excited, and nothing happenedtill Iskos came down and told us a caique was coming alongside, andthen a minute or two later we heard your voice."

  CHAPTER XXII

  ALL ENDS WELL

  The hours passed on. It was still a dead calm, and, as Martyn hadthought likely, no visit was paid by the Turkish port officials, asthe brig was lying a good mile below the usual anchorage, and would nodoubt move up to the wharves as soon as she got the wind. Horace wentto the main deck and gave a sketch of his adventures to Tom Burdett,who he knew would retail them to the crew.

  "Well, Mr. Horace," the boatswain said, "you are certainly a good oneat getting out of scrapes."

  "I had nothing to do with getting out of it, Tom; it was all donewithout any effort on my part."

  "It was mighty well done, sir, and I would not have given them Turkscredit for putting such a plan together. I always liked the chapsmyself when I served with them as a young fellow in that Egyptianbusiness under Abercrombie. Good-natured sort of coves they was, andwonderful good-tempered considering what shocking bad grub they had;but I never looked upon them as sharp. Still, there you are; you see,one never knows what a chap can do till he is pushed. Well, there isone thing, Mr. Horace, I don't care how many Turkish fugitives we maytake on board this ship in future, they will be heartily welcome byevery man Jack on board for the sake of what these fellows did foryou. I wish I had known it when you first came on board. I should haveliked to have given that young Turk a hearty shake of the hand, andthe men would have given him as good a cheer as ever you heard comefrom fifty British sailors."

  "It is just as well you didn't know, Tom, for if they had given acheer together on deck it would have been heard from shore to shore,and everyone who heard it would have known that it never came fromTurkish throats."

  As soon as it was dark the anchor was weighed, and the vessel drifteddown with the current, a boat towing ahead so as to give hersteerage-way, while the rest of the crew set to work to unbend hersails.

  "You are not going to put up her own sails, are you, Captain Martyn?"Horace asked, for as soon as it got dusk Martyn had removed the stainfrom his skin, and exchanged the Nubian attire for his uniform.

  "No, Horace, the white sails would tell their tale at once. We got twosuits at Athens, one that miserable lot you saw on us to-day, theother we had cut up to fit us as we are sparred now. They are not veryclean, but that won't affect her sailing, and though I don't mean tosay she will walk along as she would under her proper canvas, I fancyshe is likely to sail as fast as anything we shall meet. I shall onlyget her foresail, a jib, and that square top-sail on her, as we wantto go along as slowly as possible. I want to manage to anchor belowGallipoli after sunset; or if I can't manage that I shall anchor amile or two this side of the town, so as not to be visited by any ofthe port officers. Then when it gets quite dark we will get up allsail and run down the straits. It is against the rules to pass throughat night, and if the forts catch sight of us no doubt they will send afew shots after us, but we must risk that. It is not easy to hit amoving mark when it is so dark that you can scarcely see her outline.There are half a dozen of their ships-of-war lying abreast of theforts. We must keep as far as we dare over on the other shore. I amnot afraid of the ships. We shall be a mile away before the crews wakeup and load, but I expect they keep a pretty sharp look-out in theforts, though most likely their attention is chiefly directed belowthem."

  It took a couple of hours' work to unbend all the sails and bend onfresh ones. Horace spent the evening in the cabin chatting with hisfather, and when the others came down at ten o'clock for a glass ofgrog he heard that the boat had been run up and housed, and that thebrig was now under easy sail.

  "There is very little wind," Martyn said, "but there is enough to givesteerage-way. I shall not count you in for duty until to-morrow."

  "Oh, I am ready to take my watch as usual. I have been living a verylazy life for the last three weeks, and shall be very glad to be onduty again."

  "I shall get the guns up the first thing in the morning, Miller. Wewill throw a tarpaulin over them when we get into the narrow part ofthe straits."

  "Will you have the pivot-gun up too?"

  "Yes, I think so; if we have to fight, we may as well fight as hard aswe can. When we get it mounted we can put a few barrels along eachside of it, cover the whole over with a sailcloth, and stow one of thegigs at the top of all. No one would have a suspicion that there was agun there then, and if we wanted to use it we could clear it in aminute."

  "The Turkish custom-house officers will stare in the morning when theysee the brig gone," Miller said, "and will wonder what has become ofher."

  "If they think of her at all, Miller, they will think she has got upsail at daylight and gone up the Bosphorus on her way to Varna or oneof the Black Sea ports."

  "It would require a good deal more breeze than there is now."

  "Yes, I did not think of that. Well, then, perhaps they will supposethat we made a try to go up to the anchorage as soon as the day beganto break, but simpl
y drifted back. You see another half a mile asternwould take us round that point there and out of sight of them.However, we don't care much what they think. They are not likely to beinterested enough in the matter to bother themselves about it one wayor the other, and certainly not likely to do the only thing that wouldbe of any consequence to us, I mean send down a messenger to Gallipolitelling them to overhaul us if we came down the straits. Now, then,the watch on deck; the others turn in. I am sure, Mr. Beveridge, youwill be all the better for a quiet night's rest. You have certainlynot slept much for the last month, and you have been getting thinnerand thinner daily, while you have also long arrears in the way of foodto make up. It has been quite pitiful to see the faces of the Greeksas you sent away plate after plate untouched."

  "I shall soon be myself again, Martyn, and even one good night's restwill, I am sure, do wonders for me."

  "We have been getting quite uneasy about your father," Miller said ashe and Horace went up on deck for the middle watch.

  "Yes, he looks sadly broken down, Miller. Directly he had taken offthat beard I was quite shocked; he looks years older."

  "We have been really anxious about him. He would turn up three or fourtimes during the night watches and walk the deck for an hour or twotalking to one or other of us as if he could not stop alone in hiscabin. Neither Martyn nor I ever had the slightest idea of finding youwere alive when we got here, and still less of getting you out. Butwhen Tarleton proposed disguising the schooner and coming up, hecaught at the idea so eagerly that we fell in with it at once. Itseemed to us both rather a mad sort of business, but we should nothave cared what it was so that it would but rouse him up; for from thetime when we first got word that you had been taken to the Turks, tillTarleton made that proposal at Tenedos, he had scarcely spoken a word.He cheered up for an hour or two when Marco brought news that at anyrate you had not been killed at Ali Pasha's camp, but had been sent onto Constantinople; but that lasted for a very short time, for he soonsaw that so far from improving your chances, it had lessened them. Alimight have taken a handsome sum for your ransom, or your guards mighthave been bribed; anyhow, there would have been a much better chanceof getting you away from his camp than from a prison inConstantinople.

  "Of course we did all we could to cheer him, and, I am afraid, toldsome awful crammers as to the easy job it would be to get you out.Still, the plan did do him good. It gave him something to think about,as at Athens we were constantly thinking of something or other that hecould go ashore and see about. Since we sailed from there he has beenin a sort of fever, walking restlessly about the deck, going down tothe cabin and coming up again twenty times every hour, worrying aboutthe wind, and complaining at the boat's loss of speed. He took toTarleton most, because he was nearest your age, I think. He talked tohim several times about you as a child, and seemed specially unhappybecause he had seen so little of you up to the time when he bought youthat first craft you had. The two Greeks were terribly concerned abouthim. They are two fine fellows those. They were as gentle as women.Well, it has been an anxious time for us all. Even the men have feltfor him, and it was quite curious to see how silent the ship becamewhen he was on deck. They seemed to speak almost in whispers, and Ihave not heard a laugh forward from the hour that you and the doctorwere missed. I was glad he was taken with you, for he is a goodfellow, and it was a comfort to know that you were together."

  "It was a great pull," Horace agreed. "He was just the same all thetime as he is on board, quiet and slow in his talk, but with anoccasional gleam of humour. It has been rather hard on him, too,because, from the day we first landed, there has always been someonewith us who could speak Greek, and it is very slow for a man sittinglistening to talk that he can't understand, waiting for bits to betranslated to him. Still, he never showed that he minded."

  "Yes, that must have been very annoying," Miller agreed, "especiallywhen the talk was about matters that concerned his life. It makes youfeel so helpless and baby-like to have everything managed for you andto be able to do nothing yourself. I don't think he took kindly tothat Turkish dress. He slipped away and changed it before he had beenon board five minutes, while you kept yours on till you turned in fora nap two hours ago."

  "I was comfortable enough, and never gave the clothes a thought afterI had worn them an hour or two," Horace laughed. "Of course one feltvery baggy about the legs, and I certainly should not like to go aloftin the things. No wonder the Turks are such clumsy sailors with theirlegs in bags like that; but I did notice that the doctor never seemedto move about naturally. I expect if he could have talked away as Idid he would not have thought of them so much. The wind is heading usa bit."

  "Yes, it is;" and Miller gave the orders for the sheets and braces tobe hauled aft.

  "I should not be surprised if it is in the south by morning."

  "That would be all the better, for then we could choose our own timefor getting off Gallipoli. We must get up all our sail when it isdaylight and make a show of doing our best; but when one is tackingbackwards and forwards one can always manage either to keep a littleoff the wind or so close into it as pretty well to deaden one's waythrough the water."

  Horace turned in at four o'clock, and an hour and a half later heard atrampling of feet on deck, and knew that the watch was making sail.When he went up at eight o'clock the wind was blowing briskly from thesouth-east, and the schooner was making a long leg out from the land.He was now able to see the set of the sails that had been bent on theevening before. The lower sails were of the same size as theschooner's original suit, and fitted her well. The upper sailscontained less than half the canvas of her old ones, but her spreadwas sufficient to lay her over well and to send her through the waterat an encouraging rate of speed.

  "She is not going along so badly, is she, Horace?" Martyn asked.

  "No, indeed. Of course in a light wind the loss of all that uppercanvas will tell, but at present she is doing well enough foranything, quite well enough for anything we are likely to meet."

  "We have been holding our own for the last two hours with thatfelucca on the other tack, and we have been purposely sailing her agood bit off the wind. We could overhaul her soon enough if we liked,and most of those boats are fast; but we don't want to get along tooquickly. If the wind freshens any more I shall tow a sail alongside todeaden her way a bit. I want to arrive off Gallipoli about half anhour after sunset."

  Two of the broadside guns had just been brought up and put inposition, and by midday the other six and the pivot-gun were in place,and the latter hidden by a screen of barrels and one of the gigs,bottom upwards, laid over it. The decks had been scrubbed, but, asMartyn said mournfully, it would take weeks to get them back to theirformer colour. The ropes still hung slackly, and although the schoonerlooked a good deal more ship-shape than when Horace had first seen heron the previous day, she was still as untidy as the average of vesselsin Eastern waters. Her course was timed well, and the sun had alreadysunk some time, when she dropped anchor a short distance outside thecraft lying off Gallipoli.

  "I see some of their ships of war have come up from below since wepassed three days ago. However, there is no fear of their sending aboat off to-night," Martyn said as they gathered in the cabin fordinner, "and they will naturally suppose that we anchored so far outbecause we were going on down the straits the first thing in themorning."

  Mr. Beveridge had remained in his berth all day. The reaction afterthe long excitement and anxiety told severely upon him. Although hehad got up the first thing, he had been obliged to lie down again,being too weak to stand. The doctor, however, told Horace that thiswas only to be expected.

  "He will want a week's quiet and plenty of nourishment to set him onhis legs again. He has been fairly worn out. But there is no feverabout him, and we can trust the Greeks to feed him up. It is just aswell that he should keep perfectly quiet to-day and sleep as much ashe can. To-morrow I hope I shall be able to get him up on deck. Thenchatting with you and taking an interest in things will rouse him
."

  At nine o'clock sail was again made and the anchor weighed. The windhad gone down very much, and had veered round to the south, whichenabled them to lay their course through the greater part of thestraits. Two men were placed in the chains with lead-lines. The lightswere all extinguished, with the exception of the binnacle. Thetarpaulins were removed from the guns and the barrels and gig fromaround the pivot-gun. The watch off duty was sent below, and two ofthe keenest-eyed men on board placed as look-outs at the bow. TheEuropean shore, which was comparatively high, could be made out as adark bank, but the Asiatic shore, which was low, could scarcely beseen. The chart was laid on the cabin table, the port-holes having allbeen carefully covered with curtains, and a tarpaulin laid over theskylight.

  The men in the chains kept on taking soundings, Horace going backwardsand forwards between them and the quarterdeck with the news as to thedepth of water. Miller was in charge of the deck, while Martyn paidfrequent visits to the cabin to determine their position on the chartaccording to the depth of the soundings. There was no fear of theirmeeting with any craft until they approached the forts; but in thedarkness it was necessary to be very careful, as the water was shallowon the eastern side, and were they to run on to a shoal, going as theywere with the force of the current, there would be little chance ofgetting off again, unless by lightening the ship. There was just windenough to give her steerage-way. Men were stationed in readiness tolet go the anchor instantly, should it be necessary; while ten men, inthe longboat, paddled gently ahead of her, just keeping a tow-ropetaut in readiness to tow her instantly in any direction that might berequired. None of them were acquainted with the set of the current,and Martyn had only the depth of water and the dim outline of thebanks to direct his course by. Several times, when the water shoaled,the crew of the boat were directed to row vigorously in the directionof the right bank; and once or twice there were but a few feet underthe keel, and a keen feeling of anxiety was experienced on boarduntil the leads-man announced that the water was deepening. At last,according to Martyn's calculations they could not be far away from theformidable forts.

  The boat was directed to fall astern and hang on to the rope, inreadiness either to come on board or to carry out any orders thatmight be given. The crew on deck were told to take axes andcapstan-bars, so that should they drive down against one of theTurkish ships they could fend the schooner off as much as possible, orcut away any rope that might catch. They were directed to standperfectly still, and not a word was to be spoken whatever happened.The greatest danger lay in the fact that most of the ships of war werelying above the forts, and that, consequently, should an alarm begiven by them, the gunners at the batteries would be in readiness topour in their fire upon her as she passed.

  "The ground to our right looks much higher than it did, Miller. Ithink we must have been drifting a good deal over towards that side."

  "I think so too," Miller agreed. "I have been fancying that we weregetting over that way ever since we stopped sounding."

  "At any rate we must take our chance," Martyn said. "I daren't soundagain; the splash would attract attention half a mile away on a quietnight like this. Besides, we could not tow her the other way now; wemust take our chance. It is not likely they are keeping much of alook-out on board. We might pass within twenty yards of a vesselwithout being noticed on such a night as this. I will stay at thehelm, Miller. Her sails are still full, and we have got steerage-way.Do you go up into the bow. Let two of the men take their boots off,and if they make out anything ahead, let one of them run to me likelightning with orders whether to port or starboard the helm."

  The conversation was carried on in the lowest tone. Miller stolelightly forward; Tarleton and Horace were already there, one on eachbow, straining their eyes into the darkness.

  "We are a long way over on this side, Miller, I don't believe thathigh ground over there is more than two or three hundred yards away."

  "That is just what I have been saying, Tarleton. The current must haveset us across tremendously. Martyn is at the helm, and you see we areheading off that shore, but I don't think we are going more than acouple of knots through the water."

  In five minutes Tarleton whispered:

  "I think there is something dark just over the cathead."

  At the same moment Horace stepped from the other side.

  "There is a ship a short way ahead, Miller, unless I am mistaken."

  "By Jove, so there is!" Miller said, looking out. "We shall never beable to clear her with the current taking us down."

  He had kicked off his own shoes when he reached the bow, thinking itbetter himself to carry any message.

  "Port your helm, Martyn," he said as he ran up. "There are two craftahead, and we can never clear the outside one in this current. Ouronly chance is to run between them."

  Martyn had jammed the helm down as Miller spoke.

  "Keep it there," Martyn said to the helmsman, and sprang to thebulwark to look out himself. "That is enough," he said; "straightenher now, just as she is. You con her from the other side, Miller."

  All on board saw the two vessels now. By their height and bulk theywere evidently large frigates or men-of-war. They were not fifty yardsaway, and were about the same distance apart. Martyn pulled off hisjacket and threw it over the binnacle, as its light would have been atonce noticed by anyone looking down from the lofty hulls. Noiselesslythe schooner passed into the gap between the ships; not the slightestsound was heard from her decks. The two officers looked anxiously upat the sails, for had one of these flapped, or a block rattled, thesleepiest look-out must have noticed it. The silence on the decks ofthe Turkish ships was as profound as that on the schooner. Rapidlythe latter slid between them, the current taking her along faster thanthe wind. A minute more and she was beyond them; still no hail washeard. Another minute and they loomed dark and indistinct behind her.

  "Thank God for that!" Miller said in a whisper as he crossed the deckto Martyn.

  "Yes, indeed; it was touch and go. I expect they have only an anchorwatch. Most likely they are asleep; they would know that nothing couldcome up the straits with this light breeze. I think, Miller, those arethe two eighty-gun ships we noticed as we came up. They were moored agood bit outside the others; in which case we have a clear coursebefore us."

  "Yes; I have no doubt those are the two," Miller agreed.

  "Now we have only the forts; they are about a quarter of a milefurther down. Go forward, please, and tell the men not to move tillthey get orders."

  Another quarter of an hour passed, and Martyn felt sure that they werenow well beyond the forts. For a few minutes longer he held on, andthen passed the word along the deck that the danger was over. Now thatthey knew their exact position there was no longer any occasion forsounding. The men in the boat were called up, and the watch off dutyordered below, and when morning broke the land was far behind them. Abrisk wind had sprung up from the south-east, and the vessel was justable to lay her course for Athens.

  The doctor had remained below during their passage through thestraits.

  "I should only have been in the way if I had been on deck," he saidwhen Horace chaffed him for taking matters so easily. "When a man cando no good, it is always better for him to get out of the way; andafter all there is no great pleasure in standing for hours afraid tomove, and without any duty to perform; so I just chatted for a bitwith your father, and directly I saw the sleeping draught I had givenhim was beginning to take effect I turned in myself, and had ascomfortable a sleep as ever I had in my life. After sleeping on sofasfor three weeks, in that heathen sort of way, it was a comfort to getbetween sheets again."

  "Well, but you went to bed the night before, doctor?"

  "That was so," the doctor agreed. "But a good thing is just as goodthe second time as it is the first--better, perhaps. The first timethe novelty of a thing prevents you altogether enjoying it. I knewvery well that if we ran into any of the Turkish ships, or the fortsopened fire at us, I was like to hear it plainly en
ough."

  "And would you have lain there then, doctor?"

  "No, lad. I would have had my duties to perform; and I would havedressed and gone into the main deck at once, with my instruments readyto do anything I could for those that required it."

  "Have you seen my father this morning, doctor?"

  "Yes; and I am glad to say that he is all the better for his twonights' sleep. His pulse is stronger, and I shall get him up hereafter breakfast. The news that we were fairly out to sea, and that alldanger was over, was better for him than any medicine. Well, lad, wedid not think eight-and-forty hours ago that we would be racing downthe AEgean again, on board the _Misericordia_, by this time. We havehad a wonderful escape of it altogether, and I would not like to gothrough it again for enough money to set me up for life in Scotland.When we were on board that Turkish brig, on our way to Constantinople,I would not have given a bawbee for our chances."

  When they arrived at Athens the Greek sailors who had personated Turkswere landed. Mr. Beveridge was unequal to the exertion of goingashore; but day after day he was visited by politicians, militaryleaders, and others. After a fortnight spent there, Dr. Macfarlanesaid to him:

  "It is no use, sir, my giving you medicines and trying to build youup, if you are going on as you are now doing. You are losingstrength, man, instead of gaining it. Each morning you seem a littlebetter; each evening you are fagged and worn out by these importunatebeggars. I can see that it worries and dispirits you. It is all verygood to wish well to Greece, Mr. Beveridge; but unless you have adesire to be buried in Greek soil, the sooner you are out of this thebetter. It is not so much change of air as change of thought that yourequire. Go anywhere, so that it is to some place where you will neverhear the name of Greece."

  "I think you are right, doctor. The worry and disappointment has, Iknow, been telling on me for months. Yes, I will definitely decide togo away, at any rate for a time. Will you ask Captain Martyn to comedown?"

  "Captain Martyn," he went on when the latter entered the cabin, "thedoctor tells me I must absolutely get away from here."

  "I am quite sure that he is right, sir. You have been graduallywearing yourself out ever since you came here."

  "I think we will go back to England in the first place, Martyn. I haveno doubt more bracing air will do me good. Then we can see how eventsgo on here."

  "Very well, sir. I think we shall be all heartily glad to be on ourway back."

  "You had better go ashore at once, Martyn. Take Horace with you, andgo to my agents. You know they have always kept the papers inreadiness for a re-sale of the vessel back to me. Go with them to theconsulate and have the sale formally registered. I will write a notefor you to take to my agent."

  Ten minutes later the gig took Martyn and Horace ashore. They returnedfour hours later. There was a little move of excitement among the crewas they stepped on deck again, for through the Greeks, who had heardthe news from Mr. Beveridge, it had spread forward. On reaching thedeck Martyn went to the signal locker. "Now, Miller," he said, "downwith that flag."

  The Greek flag fluttered down from the peak, and as the British ensignwas run up in its place Martyn took off his cap and shouted: "Threecheers for the old flag, lads!" and the shout, given with all thestrength of the lungs of officers and crew, showed how hearty was thepleasure that was felt at the change. As soon as the cheers hadsubsided orders were given to get down the awnings and prepare to makesail. In a few minutes the clank of the anchor chain was heard, and bythe evening the schooner was running down past the shores of theMorea.

  A month later they anchored in Portsmouth. Here half the crew werepaid off, and as during their absence from England they had had butsmall opportunities of spending money, they had nearly two years' paycoming to them, together with L30 a head, being their share of theprize-money. The remainder of the crew also received their pay andprize-money and two months' leave of absence. Mr. Beveridge and Horacehad had many discussions on the subject, and it had been agreed thatthe _Misericordia_ (now again, since she re-hoisted the English flag,the _Creole_) should for a time be kept up as a yacht, with acomplement of two officers and twenty men. Martyn, having beenconsulted, had chatted the matter over with Miller and Tarleton.Although both these had enjoyed their trip greatly, and had made acomfortable sum in pay and prize-money, both preferred to return tothe Royal Navy, if they could do so, rather than remain in a yacht;and Mr. Beveridge promised to use his influence as soon as he returnedto get them appointed to ships. This promise he was able to fulfil afew weeks after his arrival at home.

  For home cruising as a yacht, Martyn considered that Tom Burdett wouldbe sufficient for him. If she again went out to Greece there would beno difficulty in obtaining other officers and making up the crew toits full strength. Portsmouth had been chosen instead of Plymouth astheir point of arrival, because from there Mr. Beveridge could muchmore easily get up to town, Dr. Macfarlane insisting that he should goup to obtain the best medical advice.

  "But there is nothing the matter with me," Mr. Beveridge had urged.

  "That is just it, sir. If you had anything the matter with you I mighthave a chance of curing it. It is because I can't see any reason whyyou do not gain strength that I want other opinion about you."

  The doctor had frequently talked it over with Horace during thevoyage.

  "I can see nothing bodily the matter with your father, Horace. I wishI could. There is nothing to account for his being in this feeblestate. All that he says is that he feels tired. My opinion is thatreally this is a sort of reaction after mental excitement, just asthere is reaction after great bodily fatigue. Your father has lived asmooth, easy, tranquil life, and the change, the excitement, theworry, and his utter disappointment with the Greeks themselves, havehad the same sort of effect upon him as a climb up to the top of BenNevis might have on a man who did not stir out of his house for monthstogether. As for that being the cause I have no doubt whatever. It isas to the cure that I want to consult with some big-wig. I don't knowwhether quiet or movement would be the best for him. He could have hadno quiet more complete than that he has had on the way home, and yetit has done him no good. If he were to go down home the inducement toarouse himself would be still less. But what sort of change wouldreally suit him is more than I can say."

  Horace thoroughly agreed with the doctor. If even the cheerful societyon board the yacht did not rouse his father, he dreaded what it wouldbe when he was at home, with no one to stir him up in any way. Therewere two or three consultations in town with some of the leaders ofthe profession. After hearing the whole circumstances they wereunanimous in agreeing that there seemed no serious disease of anykind, but at the same time his condition gave cause of anxiety.

  "Your patient is evidently a man of highly nervous organization, andat present his nerves are a wreck. We quite agree with you that werehe to go down to a lonely house in the country he would probably sinkinto the grave in a few months at the outside. If you could get him togo in that yacht of his on some expedition in which he feels what Imay call a healthy interest, it might do him good. I should say a coldclimate would be better for him than a warm one. He has had more thanenough of that enervating work in Greek waters. Try and interest himin Polar expeditions. There have been a great many of them justlately. Ross and Parry and Franklin have all been trying their best tofind the North-west Passage, which is not likely to be of any good ifthey do find it; but that is nothing to the point. Get him interestedin the matter, and let him go and poke about for a bit among theicebergs. If you can get him to do that we see no reason why in timehis mind should not recover its tone."

  The matter had to be done cautiously. Horace professed a vast interestin the recent expeditions; the doctor was full of interesting facts,and little by little they kindled an interest on the subject in Mr.Beveridge's mind; and when Horace broke out one day, as if the ideahad only just struck him, "My dear father, why shouldn't we go upnorth in the yacht for a few months and become explorers? It would beglorious to see the ic
ebergs and to shoot bears and seals, and wouldbe a splendid change for us all. I am sure you would find itfrightfully dull going back to Seaport,"--he did not entirelyrepudiate the idea, but said that he should not like to go away whenthings were looking so dark for Greece. Fortunately, a week later thenews came that all the immense preparations the Sultan had been makingfor an invasion of Greece with a great army had been arrested by atremendous fire, supposed to be the work of the janissaries, who didnot like the prospect of leaving Constantinople. The fire haddestroyed all the vast stores collected, the artillery,baggage-trains, and munitions of war of all kinds, and it was probablethat at least a year would pass before a fresh effort could be made.

  This news evidently relieved Mr. Beveridge's mind, and when Horace,backed by Macfarlane, returned to the charge, he at once consented.Martyn was written to by Horace the same day. He at once came up totown, and saw some of the officers who had been out with Franklin andParry. Returning to Plymouth, where the _Creole_ was lying, a body ofshipwrights were at once set to work to strengthen her by a network oftimber below, and to sheath her with thick planking outside. Thecaptain of a whaler was engaged as first officer. He was to come onboard at Dundee, and to bring with him twelve picked hands accustomedto the Polar Seas. With great exertion the schooner was got ready in amonth.

  By this time the enthusiasm expressed by Horace and the doctor in thematter had infected Mr. Beveridge, who read up everything that hadbeen written on the subject, and was visibly very much better by thetime they went down with him to Portsmouth to join the _Creole_ there.They were away from England eighteen months. They made no discoveriesof the slightest importance, but they had numerous excitingadventures, had many narrow escapes of being nipped by icebergs, andpassed a winter frozen up in Baffin's Bay. The voyage achieved theobject for which it was undertaken. The subject of Greece was aforbidden one, and Mr. Beveridge came to take a lively interest in thenew scenes with which he was surrounded, joined in the huntingparties, took a prominent part in all the amusements got up forkeeping the crew in good spirits and health through the winter, andreturned to England a more healthy and vigorous man than Horace hadever before seen him. The _Creole_ had taken out with her barrels andall other appurtenances for whaling, and having been fairly successfulin that way, returned with sufficient oil and seal-skins to pay thegreater part of her expenses.

  "I feel another man, Horace, to what I was when I started," Mr.Beveridge said as he stepped ashore at Plymouth.

  "You look a different man, father--a different man altogether to whatyou have been since I first remember you. I don't suppose you havegrown, but you are so much more upright that you look as if you had,and you walk differently, and even your voice seems changed. Now, youknow, you must not go back again."

  "I don't mean to, my boy. It seems to me that I have thrown awaytwenty years of my life, and what there is remaining to me shall bespent differently. Now we have got a long arrear of news to get up."

  Horace felt at first uneasy when his father obtained a complete fileof the newspapers from the time they had left England, and read up thehistory of affairs in Greece. There was, however, little to learn. Twocivil wars had taken place, some large loans had been raised inEngland, but had been entirely frittered away and wasted; and when inJune, 1824, the Turkish fleet had at last sailed, the Greeks had beenas unprepared for resistance as they were when they first took uparms. Kasos and Psara had both been captured and their inhabitantseither massacred or carried away into slavery, while the sailors ofHydra and Spetzas had not moved a hand to succour their countrymen.

  Ibrahim Pasha of Egypt had sent an army to Greece, and had besiegedNavarino and Pylos. The Greek army had advanced to relieve them, butbeing attacked by half their number of Egyptian troops were routedwithout the least difficulty at Krommydi. They were beaten again atSphakteria, and Pylos and Navarino were forced to surrender; theEgyptians observing faithfully the terms they granted, and allowingthe garrisons to depart in neutral ships. Dikaios was defeated andkilled at Maniaki, having been deserted by all his troops but fifteenhundred. These fought splendidly although attacked by six thousandmen. A thousand of them died on the field after having killed fourhundred of their assailants. This was by far the most gallant affairthroughout the war. Kolokotronis assembled ten thousand men, but wasdefeated with the greatest ease with the loss of over two hundred men,most of whom were killed in their flight.

  When the _Creole_ returned to England the siege of Missolonghi hadbegun. Reshid Pasha's army, ten thousand strong, sat down before it.It was defended with extreme gallantry and resisted for many months,while the rest of Greece did little to assist it. After six months'siege Reshid retired, being straitened for provisions and sufferingfrom the vigorous sorties of the besieged; but in a short time Ibrahimarrived with his army and again besieged the place; throwing upformidable batteries and works against it. Several times terms wereoffered to the garrison, but were contemptuously refused, and severalattacks were beaten off with great loss. At last the provisions wereabsolutely exhausted.

  The brave defenders of the town resolved upon a step almost unexampledin history, namely, that the whole of the men should sally out,placing the women and children in their centre, and cut their waythrough the enemy. There were still nine thousand persons in the town,of whom only three thousand were men capable of bearing arms, twothousand men, women, and children were too weak from starvation anddisease to join the movement; the rest were divided into threedivisions. Most of the women dressed themselves in men's clothing andcarried arms, and even the children had loaded pistols. Unfortunatelythe Turks had been informed by a deserter that the attempt was aboutto be made.

  The three divisions, in spite of the opposition of the Turks, attackedwith such fury that they made their way through the lines of theenemy; but the people of Missolonghi itself, who were to form thefourth division and follow the others, were seized with a panic andfell back into the town. Had the Greeks outside fulfilled theirpromise, and moved forward a body of troops stationed a short distanceaway to receive the defenders of the place when they reached the opencountry, all the rest would have been saved; but instead of thefifteen hundred who were to have met them, but fifty were there. TheTurkish cavalry and the Albanians harassed and cut them up, and eventhose who gained the shelter of the hills received no assistance fromthe irregulars, and many perished from hunger and disease, andfinally only fifteen hundred escaped. The soldiers left behind inMissolonghi either by wounds or sickness intrenched themselves instone buildings, and there defended themselves till the last, blowingup the magazines and dying in the ruins when they could no longer holdout. Four thousand Greeks were killed, three thousand were takenprisoners, chiefly women and children, and two thousand altogetherescaped. The Acropolis of Athens resisted stoutly for a long time, butat last fell. The Greeks were defeated in almost every action uponwhich they entered, and affairs went from bad to worse, until theEuropean governments at last determined to interfere; and their unitedfleets destroyed that of the Turks at the battle of Navarino, andforced Turkey to grant the independence of Greece.

  As these events happened Mr. Beveridge followed their course withinterest, but it was only with the interest shown by Englishmen ingeneral. His personal feeling in the matter had entirely left him.During the last four years of the struggle there was no sign whateverthat misfortune and disaster had had any effect in inducing the Greeksto lay aside their personal jealousies and ambitions, or to make anycommon effort against the enemy. The large sums they had received fromthe loans raised for the most part in England were spent in the mostunworthy uses. They covered their uniforms with gold lace, and thedress of the men on foot often cost fifty pounds; those of horsementen times that amount. They affected all through to despise the Turks,and yet, except the fifteen hundred men under Dikaios and thedefenders of Missolonghi, they never once opposed anything like anobstinate resistance to them, and the last show of resistance wasalmost crushed out when the intervention of Europe saved them.


  The _Creole_ had been laid up after her return from the Arctic Seas.Mr. Beveridge had purchased a large share in a fine East Indiaman,making the proviso that Martyn should be appointed to the command, hehimself buying a share in her with the money he had earned during thefour years' service on board the schooner. Mr. Beveridge had, to theimmense satisfaction of his aunt, Mrs. Fordyce, entirely abandoned thestudy of Greek, devoted himself to the affairs of his estate, becamean active magistrate, and had, three years after his return, stood forParliament as member for the county, and had won the seat. Horace wastwenty when they returned from the north. He had a long talk with hisfather as to his future prospects and career. He was too old now totake up the thread of his studies again or to go to the university,and he finally determined, at the advice of his father, to study forthe bar.

  "You will never have any occasion to practise, Horace, but a fewmonths every year in London will make a pleasant change for you; andas you may look to be a county magistrate some day you will find aknowledge of the law very useful to you. You will be in London five orsix months every year, then you will have your shooting and hunting inthe winter, and we will have two or three months' cruise together inthe _Creole_. I find that our expedition in Greece cost me, one wayand another, just fifteen thousand pounds, which is a good deal lessthan I should have thrown away if it had not been for your advice. Ihear that it is likely that Sir James Hobhouse's estate will be in themarket before long, and I think, as it almost adjoins ours, I shallbuy it. I fancy that I shall get it for about thirty thousand pounds.That I should settle on you at once. I am not fifty yet, and feel thatI have more life in me than I ever had, and I don't want you to bewaiting another twenty or thirty years to step into my shoes. Itsmanagement will be an occupation for you, and then you can marrywhenever you feel inclined."

  This happened four years later; it arose out of a meeting at a dinnerparty in London. Horace had taken down a very pretty girl to whom hehad just been introduced. He thought that she looked at him rathercuriously when his name was mentioned. They chatted on all sorts ofsubjects during dinner, and when the ladies arose to go she said:"Please find me out when you come upstairs. I have a question Iparticularly want to ask you, but I could not very well do it here.Please do not forget, for it is important." A good deal puzzled Horacemade his way upstairs as soon as he could and saw that the girl waswith another lady sitting in a quiet corner of the drawing-room. Hecrossed to them at once. "Mother," the young lady said, "this is Mr.Beveridge."

  "You are right, Ada," the lady said, rising and holding out her hand,"I recognize him at once now I see him. Oh, Mr. Beveridge, you do notknow how we have longed to see you again, and you don't know us, doyou?"

  "No, I can't say that I do, madam," Horace replied, more and moreastonished.

  "I am the lady you saved from being sold as a slave at Algiers whenyou captured the ship we were in off the coast of Asia Minor. This ismy daughter. No wonder you don't remember us for I was astrange-looking creature in that Greek dress, and Ada was but achild."

  "I remember you now, Mrs. Herbert," Horace exclaimed. "I ought to havedone so before, as we were four or five days on board together."

  "You must have thought us so ungrateful," Mrs. Herbert said; "but wewere not so; we never knew where to write to when you were out inGreece. Then two or three years afterwards we heard from someone whohad been out there that you had returned, and my husband, who leftSmyrna and came back to England after we got back, made all sorts ofinquiries, and found out at last that you had gone away again on anArctic expedition. Then he went out to Malta, where we have beenliving for the last three years, and only returned a month ago toEngland. My husband had to return to Smyrna; he had large businessconnections there that could not be broken off suddenly. Nothing couldinduce me ever to return there, but it was an easy run for him toMalta, and he was able to come and stay with us for a week or so everytwo or three months. For the last year he was training the son of thesenior partner of the house to take his place at Smyrna, and hehimself has now come back altogether, as Mr. Hamblyn has now retired,and he is the head of the firm. He is not here to-night, but will bedelighted to hear that we have found you."

  "We have been back three years," Horace said.

  "Of course we did not know that you were in England. It has been agreat grief to us. It seemed so extraordinary that after being savedby you from the most awful of all fates you should have disappearedout of our life as suddenly as you came into it. Of course it was notmuch to you--you who saved so many hundreds, we heard afterwardsthousands of women and girls from slavery; but to us it waseverything. And your father, Mr. Beveridge, is he quite well?"

  "Yes, he is far better than I have ever known him to be. I am goingdown next week to help him; he is going to stand for our part of thecounty for Parliament. There is a vacancy there, and I fancy that hehas a very good chance."

  "Is he, indeed? He did not give me the idea of being a man who wouldhave cared for that sort of thing. Of course we only saw him just forthose four days."

  "I am happy to say that he has changed very much since then. He camehome very ill from Greece, but our eighteen months among the iceentirely set him up and made a new man of him. I am sure he will bevery pleased when he hears that I have met you. And did you recognizeme at once, Miss Herbert?"

  "The name helped me," the girl said. "When I heard it I felt sure itwas you at once. It was very hard work sitting there talking to you asif you were a stranger."

  "Why did you not tell me at once?" Horace asked smiling.

  She did not answer, but her mother said for her: "You can't tell howwe felt about you and your father, Mr. Beveridge, or you would not askthe question. The chances are that if Ada had told you who she was shewould have burst out crying. She told me it was as much as she coulddo to restrain herself; and I think we have both had a quiet cry inthis corner since we came upstairs. Now, please give me your addressin town?"

  "I have chambers in Mitre Court Temple, No. 3."

  "My husband will call to see you the first thing in the morning, I amsure. Mr. Beveridge and you must dine with us quietly to-morrow, sothat we can talk it all over. You are not, I hope, engaged."

  Horace was not engaged, but if he had been he would probably havethrown it over.

  Under these circumstances it was not very much to wonder at that a fewmonths later the _Morning Post_ contained this announcement:--"Weunderstand that a marriage has been arranged between Mr. HoraceBeveridge, the son of Mr. H. Beveridge, M. P., and Ada, only child ofMr. Herbert, of Bedford Square, the head of the firm of Herbert &Sandeson, the well-known firm of Levant merchants. We understand theacquaintance of Mr. Beveridge with the young lady he is now about tolead to the altar commenced under singularly romantic circumstances inthe Levant six years ago."

  On the day after their marriage Horace and his wife sailed to spendtheir honeymoon among the fiords of Norway and in the Baltic on boardthe _Creole_. She was commanded by Miller, whose ship had been paidoff a month previously, and Tarleton, whose frigate belonged to theChannel squadron, obtained three months' leave to sail in her as firstofficer. Macfarlane was with them for a fortnight, not being able toget away for a longer time from the practice in which he had purchaseda partnership at Plymouth. Tom Burdett went, of course, in his oldcapacity; but this was his last trip in her though he long remainedthe commander of the _Surf_, which was always kept in commission atSeaport, and in which Horace's boys and girls learned to love the seaas much as did their father.

  THE END

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