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

Horace, after asking them a question or two, said to Zaimes: “You had better prepare some soup, Zaimes, as quickly as you can. They have had nothing to eat for three days.”

While this was being done, a sip of wine and a mouthful of bread were given to each. In the meantime some sailors were rigging up a partition with sail-cloth across the main deck, and here hammocks were slung for the use of the women and children. As soon as the poor creatures had taken a basin of hot soup they revived a good deal and poured out expressions of profuse gratitude to their rescuers. They had passed a terrible three days crouching among the bushes, and expecting every moment to be discovered. A few of the women had snatched up their jewels before taking to flight, but most of them were absolutely destitute. Mr. Beveridge and the two Greeks persuaded them to go below and take the sleep they so much needed. As soon as the deck was clear the anchor was got up, and the schooner proceeded on her way. She reached the farthest headland of the bay just as night began to fall, and Martyn decided to anchor there till morning. From the Greek lad who had first swum off, they learned that the village among the mountains still resisted.

“They say there are two or three hundred there who have taken refuge from the villages round. There are some rich men among them, and that is the reason why the Mussulmans are so anxious to take the place.”

“How many men are besieging it?”

“That I don’t know,” the boy replied. “I should think four or five hundred.”

“But you have heard nothing for the last three days? The place may have fallen since then.”

“No, I went last night to the village in hopes of finding bread in some of the houses, but there were too many Turks about. I was near enough to hear them talking. Some of them were going up to-day to join in the siege.”

“How far is the place from the sea?”

“It is ten miles from this north shore, but it is not more than four or five from the western coast.”

“Is there any road?”

“Not from that side. The roads from the mountain villages all lead down to the bay.”

“Is it too steep to climb from the other side?”

“Not too steep to climb on foot. Donkeys and mules could get up there.”

The matter was talked over in the cabin that evening, and it was agreed that if a guide could be obtained an attempt should be made to carry off the occupants of the village. During the night a boat with twelve fugitives came off from the shore and as the Misericordia sailed slowly along the coast on the following day several parties of from three to ten people came out from the trees and waved white handkerchiefs and scarfs. All these were brought off, and four or five boats full of people were picked up during the day. Their occupants had seen the schooner passing on the previous day, and had at night, when the Mussulmans in the village were asleep, stolen down to the beach, launched boats, and put out to sea in the hope that the schooner would return next day. All were overwhelmed with joy at finding themselves under the Greek flag, although the greater portion of them had lost everything they possessed. The women and children were, like the first batch, provided for below, while the men and boys were told they must sleep on deck, which was no hardship in that balmy climate.

Among those in the last boat picked up near the west point of the bay was a young man who was a native of a village lying a short distance from the one that was besieged. He happened to be down in the coast village when the Turks commenced hostilities there, and hearing that the village to which he belonged had been destroyed, he had remained in hiding near the coast. Marco and his brother, who mingled with the fugitives, had learned this, and at once took the news to the cabin. “He says he has been a goat-herd, and knows all the paths among the mountains.”

“Then he is the very fellow we want to get hold of,” Will Martyn said. “We had better have him in here and question him.”

The young Greek was brought in. He knew of several paths from the village down to the western shore.

“Now what sort of place is this village?” Captain Martyn asked.

“It stands at the top of rocky ground that slopes away all round it. There are vineyards and gardens among the rocks. Since the trouble in Greece began, the people have been frightened, and have built a wall five or six feet high round the village, and the Christians in all the villages round decided that if there was trouble from the Mussulmans they would go there to help defend it.”

“Is there high ground round the village?”

“Yes, the hills rise very high on three sides, but they are too far away for guns to do much harm; besides, the houses stand thickly together. My people will fight till the last, but I don’t know how long the provisions will last. I know they all made up their minds that if they were besieged and saw no hope of succour, they would at last kill all the women and children to prevent their being made slaves by the Turks, and then they would march out to fight until the last man was slain.”

“How long would it take us to get up from the shore to the village?”

“One can come down in an hour, but it takes three hours’ hard work to get up.”

“Could you after dark take us close to the point where one of these paths comes down to the shore?”

“Oh, yes, I could do that easily.”

“Very well, that will do for the present. Now, Mr. Beveridge, it is for you to decide,” Martyn said. “Of course the affair is a risky one; but it seems to me that forty well-armed English sailors ought to be able to make their way into the village without very much difficulty, for of course the Turks will be scattered about all round it. The difficulty is not in getting in, but in getting out. We should have to bring perhaps two or three hundred women and children, and cover their retreat down to the water. Of course the men would help us, but still it would be a stiff job in the face of four or five hundred of the enemy. These Turks may know nothing of soldiering, but they are mountaineers and are used to arms, and for irregular fighting like this, would be quite as formidable as the best troops. If we knew anything about the ground we should be able to give a more decided opinion. What of course we should want, if possible, would be some post, either a defile or a steep eminence that we could hold for half an hour and keep the Turks back until the women and children are well on their way down the mountain. After that we could make a bolt for it, and might get down without much loss; but if there is no place where we could make a stand anywhere along the road, we should be in an awkward fix, especially if the path is a bad one, as I expect it is. You see the whole party would have to go in single file, and if there are four or five hundred of them, it would be next to impossible to guard the flanks and keep the Turks off if they made a rush, while every shot they fired would tell on such a long line. You understand, Mr. Beveridge, I am putting the matter to you in the worst light so that we should all understand the sort of business it is likely to be.”

“I see that it is a very serious affair, Martyn; but at the same time, when we know that there are so many lives at stake, I think that we must run the risk, however great.”

“Very well, then, that is settled, Mr. Beveridge, and I am sure we are all glad that you have decided so. The next question is, who shall go, and who shall remain behind.”

“I shall certainly go,” Mr. Beveridge said. “I am not going to allow others to take risks that I do not share myself.”

“We ought to be as strong a party as possible,” Martyn said. “At the same time we must leave enough to sail the schooner, if not to fight her. It is probable that yesterday morning, as soon as our flag was seen, messengers were sent off at once to Limasol and Larnaca to tell them that a Greek vessel was in the bay; and if there are any Turkish vessels of war in either of these harbours, we shall be having them coming round.”

“That is likely enough,” Miller said. “We must certainly be ready to get up our anchor and be off at a minute’s notice.”

“Well, Miller, then you must remain on board with ten men. We will load all the guns before we go. Ten men are enough to get up sail and to fight the pivot-gun. You had better not waste any time in getting up the anchor, but buoy and then slip the cable. We can recover it, if we like, afterwards. If you should be driven off the coast while we are away, lower a sail under her fore-foot so as to deaden her way and encourage the Turks with the hope that they are going to catch you. Lead them a dance for seven or eight hours, then cut the drag adrift, set every stitch of sail, and run back again. You will be here in plenty of time to get us all on board before they can come up again. Of course if we see that you are gone we shall choose some position where we can make a stout defence, and shall hold it until you come back to the anchorage.”

“All right, sir. I will obey orders. Of course I would rather have gone with the expedition ashore; but someone must stay on board, and if you are going I must take the command in your absence. Ten men will be quite enough for me. We can leave the main and foresail standing when we anchor, so that will be plenty of strength.”

“Well, as that is all settled, we will bout ship and cruise east again. It will be dark in an hour, and it is well they should think on shore that we are off again to the east. I daresay they can make us out from points on the mountains not far from the village. If they see us sailing away, it will never enter their heads that we have any intention of interfering in their little game up there.”

Accordingly the schooner was again put about, and retraced her course along the shore until it became quite dark; then she stood out to sea until well out of sight of land, when she was headed west again. The news had already got about through the ship that there was to be a landing party to rescue a number of Christians besieged by the Turks among the mountains, and the sailors were in the highest spirits, cutlasses were ground, pistols and muskets served out to those who were to land, and the disappointment of those who were to remain behind was mitigated by Horace mentioning to them that not improbably they might have a brush with the Turks on their own account.

Cartridges, muskets, and pistols were served out, and the arms carefully examined. Each man was ordered to take with him a water-bottle filled with weak grog, and two pounds of bread in his haversack, and a hearty supper was served out. Once round the point of the bay the schooner was kept close in shore. The Greek kept a sharp look-out on the hills looming high above them, and about nine o’clock announced that they were now near the place where a track from the mountain came down to the shore. The anchor was at once dropped and the headsails lowered. Then the sailors took their places in three boats, two of the men who were to stop behind going in each to bring them back to the schooner when the landing had been effected. Zaimes was to accompany the party, while Marco remained with Mr. Miller on board.

Ten of the fugitives, active young men, had begged to be allowed to accompany the expedition, but the offer had been declined, and they were told that they might be more useful helping to work the guns of the schooner should a Turkish ship-of-war come round. When the arms had been purchased a dozen good rifles had been among them, and after Mr. Beveridge, Zaimes, and the three officers had each armed themselves with one of these, the rest were divided among the best shots of the party. Tom Burdett, much to his disappointment, was left on board to assist the first lieutenant.

As soon as the boats reached the shore the men were formed up. Tarleton was to lead the advance party of ten men, having with him the guide. Close behind these were the main body, twenty strong, led by Martyn; behind them Mr. Beveridge, with Zaimes and the surgeon, who was also accompanying the party, had their place. Horace commanded the rear-guard of ten men. Although this nominal division was made, the whole party kept closely together, as the night was so dark that they might otherwise have missed each other. None of the fire-arms were loaded, lest an accident should occur by a gun being discharged by a fall, by striking against a rock, or by the trigger catching in a bush.

After a few hundred yards’ walk along the shore the Greek struck upon the track and led the way up, the rest following in single file. The climb seemed interminable to Horace. At times it was so steep it was difficult to scramble up, and in the darkness there were many falls. There were frequent stops, to enable the men to get their breath; but after three hours’ climbing they at last reached comparatively level ground, and the guide told them they were within half a mile of the ridge from which they could look down upon the village.

“Well, we will move slowly forward until we come either to some bushes or a bit of a hollow where we can get some shelter, for it is quite sharp up here, and as soon as the men begin to cool down a bit they will feel it. I wish we had brought blankets now, but it never struck me that it would be cold. Mr. Tarleton, let your ten men scatter. Don’t let them wander too far, but let them search about for some place where we can get shelter. We will remain here; and if any of the men find a place, send one back to bring us up. We have got another four hours to wait before daylight.”

In ten minutes one of the men came back with news that they had found a patch of bush large enough for them to take shelter in. In a short time they all arrived at the spot. The bushes were sweet smelling and free from thorns, and the men soon crushed their way into them and lay down.

“You will remain in charge, Mr. Tarleton. I shall go on and take a look down at the village. I don’t suppose we shall see much, but we may be able to make out whether they are still holding out. Will you go on with me, Mr. Beveridge, or stay here?”

“I will go on with you. I find it bitterly cold here; for not being accustomed to hard work, as your men are, I found that climb almost too much for me; and hot as I have been, I should not like to stop still in this keen air, even with the shelter of the bushes.”

“Well, we will take it easy this last bit, Mr. Beveridge. Come along, Horace.”

Again preceded by the guide, and followed by Zaimes, they ascended the shoulder of the hill. It was a steep pull, but in a quarter of an hour they reached the crest. Just as they did so they heard the report of a gun, followed at once by several others. An exclamation of satisfaction broke from them. Their climb had not been in vain; the village was still holding out. Fifty yards farther the ground fell away suddenly in front of them, and they stood at the edge of a deep descent. Extending round the foot of the hills that formed the amphitheatre in the centre of which the village lay, was a line of fires; some blazing brightly, others dim red spots. Another chain of fires, much closer together, extended across the mouth of the valley. The village, lying in the black shadow of the hills, was invisible to them, and not even a single light indicated its position.

“That is where it is,” the guide said, pointing down to the centre of the hollow.

As he spoke a flash of flame, followed a second or so later by a report, shot out from the spot towards which he was pointing.

“They are keeping a sharp look-out,” Martyn said; “they are not to be caught napping. Now the point is, which is our best side for going down on the village without being seen?”

“The best point,” the guide said, “would be from the head of the valley. Orchards extend from the village to the foot of the hill, and a ravine runs some distance up there. If we could get into that, we might get some distance through the orchards before we are noticed.”

“Could you lead us along the side of the hill to this ravine in the dark?”

“I think so. I am sure I could lead you. The danger would be from setting stones in motion and so calling the attention of the enemy. The hillside is very steep, and a stone set rolling would go right down to their fires.”

“We must risk that,” Martyn said. “It would be a great thing to be able to take them by surprise. Don’t you think so, Mr. Beveridge?”

“I should say it was well worth trying. But it is the getting out, not the getting in, that seems to me the difficult part of the business.”

“There is no doubt about that,” Martyn agreed. “Will you ask him if this part we are standing on goes straight down to the village? The slope looks to me almost too steep.”

Mr. Beveridge put the question to the guide.

“He says the road zigzags. Olive-trees grow up for some distance – about a third of the distance, he says.”

“That is good,” Martyn said, “because if we get the people with a sudden rush across the open we can defend the lower edge of these trees, and the women and children will be hidden from below till they get up above the trees, where they would be pretty well out of danger except from a chance shot. I think, Mr. Beveridge, it would be a good thing to leave Tarleton with fifteen men here. If we can take them by surprise five-and-twenty of us ought to be quite enough to make our way in. Even if there are six hundred of them they must be scattered pretty thinly round this circle, and are probably thickest down at the mouth of the valley. The rear-guard here will of course be concealed until we sally out. Then if the Turks from the other side and the end of the valley try to climb the hill on either side of the path so as to cut us off, our fellows here could open fire and prevent them doing so, and as the enemy would not be able to see how many men there are, it would stop them a bit.”

“I think that would be a very good plan, Captain Martyn.”

“Very well, then. Horace, do you go back to the bushes, bring Mr. Tarleton and the men up. Tell them to move as quietly as they can when they get near this point.”

The men got up willingly when Tarleton gave the word, for although the bushes afforded some shelter, they were already feeling very chilled, and were pleased to be in motion again. They met Martyn a short distance from the spot where Horace had left him. The men were halted.

“Now, Mr. Tarleton, you are to take the fourteen men who came ashore with you in the gig. For the present you had best return with them to the bushes and wait there till daylight. Then you will come back to this point. Post the men where they cannot be seen from below. Be sure that not a head is shown. Take your own post at a point whence you can see down into the valley without being seen yourself. You will remain in hiding while we fight our way into the village. As soon as you see the sortie begun get your men ready for action, and let them lie down without showing themselves more than they can help at the edge of the brow from which they can fire down into the valley. Your duty is to prevent any parties of the enemy working along the side of the hill to take the fugitives and us in flank as we come up the path. As the women and children arrive tell them to push on along the path as fast as they can, without stopping or paying attention to any fire that may be opened upon them. They will be told before they start that the schooner is in readiness to take them off. Still, you may as well hurry them along. You will remain here until the last and form the rear-guard. But we shall all make a stand here as long as we can so as to give the women and children plenty of a start. Do you quite understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Shall I go with you or wait here?” Macfarlane asked.

“I think you might as well stay here, doctor. There won’t be any time for you to be dressing wounds till we are back here again.”

Tarleton called out the men who had landed with him, and marched off with them.

“Now, my lads,” Martyn said to the others, “we are going to work along the side of the hill so as to come down behind them. But I fancy it will be very steep in places. Sling your muskets behind you so as to have both hands to hold on by. If you once begin to roll you go right down to the bottom, and then there is an end to our chance of surprising them. Be careful, above all things, how you walk, for if you set a stone rolling it will put them on their guard. We have to go as quietly as mice. Now follow me in single file, and keep as close as you can to each other, yet so far off that if you stumble you won’t touch the man in front of you.”

The men fell in, and Horace took his place at the rear. A few steps and they halted. The guide then went on in front of Martyn, and Mr. Beveridge and Zaimes fell in behind him. The hill rose so abruptly on the right that it was necessary to keep along on its slope, and very cautiously the men made their way along the hillside. Each step had to be felt before they put their weight down. Sometimes it was slippery grass, and so steep that they were obliged to crawl on all-fours to make their way along it. Sometimes they passed patches of bare rock and sometimes slides of loose stones. They had gone but a short distance when Martyn passed the word along in a whisper for them to sit down, pull off their shoes, and fasten them round their necks. Indeed, had it not been for this precaution, there were places across which it would have been impossible to pass. As it was, it took them a full hour to traverse the half-mile between the point from which they had started and the head of the valley. At last a sharp fall told them that they were at the edge of the ravine. As soon as they descended into it there was a short halt to allow Mr. Beveridge to rest.

“I am sorry I came,” he said as he sat down faint and exhausted. “I did not reckon on this sort of thing, Captain Martyn. If I had done so I would have remained with Tarleton.”

“It is all right now, Mr. Beveridge. We have done our climbing, and it is a marvel that we have done it without alarming those fellows below, for some small stones rolled down once or twice. But if they noticed them, no doubt they thought that it was some sheep or goats on the hillside. Now, my lads, before you go any further, you had better take a drink from your bottles. You will have to be careful in going down the ravine, for there are sure to be loose stones lying about.”

After a halt of five minutes they proceeded cautiously down, and at last, to their great satisfaction, stood on level ground, and soon entered a grove of fruit-trees, where they halted and lay down. There was a short consultation whether their guide should try and make his way into the village to inform the besieged of the help that was near in order that they might assist by opening a fire upon the besiegers as soon as the sailors made their attack. The idea was, however, abandoned, because, were he seen by the Turks, it would put them on the alert; and because, in the second place, he might be shot by the besieged as he approached the village. It did not seem to Martyn that there could be any difficulty in their getting in. It was not likely that more than fifty of the enemy at the outside could interpose between them and the village, and these, taken by surprise, and ignorant of the number of their assailants, could offer no effectual resistance, and they would be up under shelter of the guns of the defenders of the village before the Turks could rally from their first surprise.

Another two hours and daylight began to appear. Martyn waited until it was light enough to make their way through the trees without difficulty. Then the men, most of whom had fallen asleep as soon as they lay down, were roused.

“Now, my lads, you are to keep together. Keep your muskets slung, and use cutlass and pistol. I don’t expect there will be any serious resistance, but, at any rate, don’t straggle. Of course we don’t want any prisoners. Shoot or cut down any one who opposes you, and follow me straight on. Now, load your pistols.”

As soon as this was done they proceeded through the wood. The guide, as before, led the way. His instructions were that directly they were through the Turks he was to run on at the top of his speed, shouting to the villagers not to fire, as those approaching were friends. Martyn, Mr. Beveridge, Horace, and Zaimes, followed close behind the guide, the line of seamen extending behind them. They were nearly through the orchard when a shout was given and they saw a dozen figures leap up from the ground.