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

“It is disgusting, Horace,” Miller said, “to hear you jabbering away with these girls, while we poor beggars can’t say a word to them.”

“But you speak a little Italian, don’t you, Miller?”

“Yes, I picked up a little when I was on the Mediterranean station.”

“Oh well, a little will go a long way sometimes, Miller, and some of them are sure to know something of Italian. I will soon find out which they are, and introduce them specially to you.”

Five or six of the girls knew a little Italian, and most of the young men could speak it, Italian being the general language of commerce in the Mediterranean, and Miller was soon engaged in conversation with some of them. Martyn had broken the ice for himself with a mixture of French and Italian; but Tarleton, who knew no language but his own, kept away from the quarter-deck.

“What’s the odds,” he said, when Horace tried to induce him to go aft. “If they were going to be on board for a year, I would try to get hold of a few Greek words, and do what I could; but as it is, it is not worth while bothering one’s self. It is no use my trying to make myself agreeable to girls when I haven’t a word to say to them. On the whole I am rather glad I can’t talk, to them. I never had any practice at that sort of thing; and if I ever do fall in love, I hope it will be with an Englishwoman. Look at Miller there,” he laughed, “jawing away with five or six girls at once, and I don’t believe one of them has the least idea of what he is saying, though they all try to look interested.”

“They understand he is trying to make himself agreeable, Tarleton, and I have no doubt they are grateful and pleased. I daresay some of them don’t understand any more Italian than he does. Still they are just as much amused, if not more, as if they understood him perfectly.”

After the meal was over some chairs and benches were brought up, but the ladies all preferred sitting on the deck, and were much pleased when a number of the men’s hammocks were brought up, unrolled, and laid down for them to sit upon. Mr. Beveridge chatted with the merchants, the younger men smoked and lounged about, Martyn and Miller and Horace devoting themselves to the ladies, until eleven o’clock, when two long tables were set. Zaimes arranged them tastefully with flowers and silver, and a very excellent meal was served. After the meal was finished, and the decks cleared, the men were exercised at cutlass drill and in getting down and setting the sails, and the Chiots were astonished at their discipline and activity.

“I have seen vessels get up sail at Chios hundreds of times,” one of the young men said to Horace, “and everyone shouts and bustles about; but with all the noise they take five or six times as long to get them up as your men do, and, except when the officer gives orders, there is no more sound than there would be if they were all dumb.”

“Captain Martyn says that he will have gun drill to-morrow,” Horace said, “and you will see that they are just as quiet at their work then as now. You see the three officers have all served in our navy as well as the men, and we have just the same discipline as there would be in a king’s ship.”

“One would scarcely think,” Horace remarked to his father that evening as they were standing together looking at the groups scattered about the deck, “that these people were fugitives who have just left their native land, probably for life.”

“I don’t think they quite realize that at present, Horace. One or two of the men have been telling me what anxiety they have suffered at Chios since the revolution broke out. When the news came of some of the massacres of the Greeks, they were in constant fear of a retaliation upon them by the Mussulmans, and they made sure that sooner or later, if the war went on, Chios would become involved in it. Of course they did not suppose that such a mad-brained expedition as that of Lykourgos would be undertaken, but supposed that a sufficient force would be sent to ensure the capture of the island, accompanied by a fleet that would protect it from that of the Turks; but even that was greatly dreaded by them.

“They knew that the Turkish provinces governed by Greek officials were much more heavily taxed and oppressed than those in which the Turks collected the taxation, and knew that the change would be, for them, very much for the worse. Except that they have the same religion, they have little in common with the Greeks in the mainland, and dreaded the thought of the Albanians, who would be sure to send over armed bands, who would harass and oppress them. Of course they have been for centuries under Turkish rule, and the island has certainly flourished exceedingly under it. Their trade has been almost entirely with Constantinople, and all their connections are Turkish. I can quite understand, therefore, their repugnance to a change which would ruin their trade and vastly increase their burdens; while, as to masters, I should imagine that no one in their senses could prefer Albanians to Turks.

“Seeing the storm coming, most of the wealthy Chiots have prepared in some way for it by sending much of their available capital, for safety, to correspondents abroad, or by investing in foreign securities. I believe that all these merchants have done so; and as the greater part of their money and valuables that remained are at present down in the hold, they will be able to live, if not in as great luxury as before, at any rate in comfort at Corfu, or wherever they may settle themselves; while several of them have told me that they intend again to embark in trade, and, if possible, under our flag. They have been asking me a good many questions about ourselves, and don’t seem at all able to comprehend the interest that the Greek revolution has created in Europe; still less that an Englishman like myself, who could live comfortably at home, should come out here to take part in a struggle that in no way concerns him.”

“What did you answer, father?” Horace asked with a slight smile.

“I told them that I was but half an Englishman, and that my mother was Greek, and that I was devoted to the study of the language and customs of the ancients.”

“I suppose they knew nothing about the ancients, father?”

“No,” Mr. Beveridge admitted reluctantly. “They had heard of the name of Homer, and had a vague sort of knowledge of the early history of Greece – about as vague as the ordinary Englishman has of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. An English school-boy of twelve knows more about ancient Greece than do nineteen Greeks out of twenty; though, seeing the interest felt by civilized Europe in the matter, it is the fashion among them now to pretend to feel great enthusiasm on the subject. No; I am not surprised at these poor people being cheerful, Horace. They have escaped the risk of a terrible fate; and as to patriotism, it is a feeling of which people who have been under foreign masters hundreds of years know absolutely nothing. They may regret their easy, quiet life in Chios; but beyond that, I think they have little feeling in the matter.”

The next morning, after breakfast, the sailors were exercised at the guns, three rounds being fired from each piece. Scarcely were the men dismissed from their quarters, and the guns secured, before the boatswain went up to Martyn.

“I beg your pardon, captain, but look over there. Do you see that white cloud? – how quick it rises. I know these seas, sir; and that is a white squall, or I am a Dutchman. We sha’n’t have more than three or four minutes before it is on us.”

“By Jove, you are right, Tom! All hands get off sail. Look smart, my lads; there is a bit of a squall coming down on us. Down topsails; in jibs. Miller, take six hands and get this awning off. Horace, get the ladies below at once.”

As Martyn began to give his orders, Tarleton had run forward to see them carried out; but Miller and Horace had continued their conversation without paying much attention to them, believing that he was only giving the orders as an exercise to the crew, and to show the passengers how quickly they could get off sail. His sharp, decided tone, however, soon showed them that he was in earnest. Horace looked round almost bewildered, for there was scarcely a breath of wind; the sky was a deep blue overhead. Miller’s experience in the Mediterranean, however, told him which way to look.

“White squall, by Jove!” he muttered, as his eye fell on the cloud that had attracted the boatswain’s attention. Springing forward he called six of the men, and ran aft with them again. Horace, still in ignorance of the reason for the order given him, at once proceeded to carry it out.

Calling out in Greek, “Please go below at once, ladies;” and then to the men, “Escort the ladies below as quickly as you can, please.” Then, running forward, he shouted to the Greek servants, “All below, all below! Take the children with you; you are in the way here. Hurry down.”

His orders on the quarter-deck were more quickly obeyed than he had expected, for the Chiots, accustomed to these sudden and tremendous squalls of the Ægean, glancing round when they heard the order, perceived the reason for it at once, and hurried the ladies below with all speed.

With so strong a crew it took but a minute to lower the gaff topsail from the mainmast and to get the foretop gallant sail and topsail down on the caps, and almost before the halliards had been let go a dozen men were aloft furling the sails. The foresail came down with a run, and the jibs flew in from the bowsprit. Martyn himself saw to the lowering of the mainsail.

“Belay there!” he called when it was half-way down. “Reef it down fully, Mr. Tarleton,” as the young officer, with twenty men, sprang to the reef-points. “Now haul on the reef-earing. That is it. Well together, lads. Harden it down; that will do. Now a pull on the main halliards; that is enough. Belay. Lower the peak a bit more; that will do. Now we are ready for it. Boatswain!”

“Ay, ay, sir,” came from forward.

“Lower that fore-staysail down, and reef it fully.”

He looked to windward. A white bank of clouds extended half-way up the sky, in front of which were white streamers blown out ahead of it. The schooner had already been brought round with her head in the direction of the wind, and an extra hand had been placed at the wheel.

“Starboard a little,” Martyn cried to the men at the wheel. “Slack off the mainsheet a bit, Mr. Miller. I don’t want to be taken aback.”

A minute later a white line was seen approaching them on the water with the speed of a race-horse, and then with a shriek the squall was upon them. Stripped as the vessel was of all her canvas, save the diminished fore-staysail, the mainsail being too far over to draw, she lay down until the water poured in over the lee gunwale from the pressure of wind on her masts and rigging. Her head payed off.

“Now haul on the mainsheet,” Martyn shouted to a dozen sailors who had hold of it, and dragged it in hand over hand. As the sail fluttered in her head again came up into the wind. “That will do. Belay there! keep her at that, lads,” Martyn said, taking his place by the side of the men at the helm. “Keep the staysail full, but nothing more.”

The schooner had now begun to move fast through the water as close-hauled to the wind as her sails would stand. Though still heeling over, her deck was now free of water, as that which she had taken on board had rushed out through the port-holes.

“She will do nicely now,” Martyn said to his first lieutenant. “You can get the peak up again, Mr. Miller; she will stand it now.”

The schooner was now retracing the course she had before been sailing on.

“It is lucky it came when it did, Miller. Another couple of hours and we should have been in the thick of the islands. As it is now, we have clear water, and at any rate, if we are obliged to change our course, we can run down south comparatively clear of everything. It is lucky we saw it coming in time. It was the boatswain warned me. If we had not got the sail off her we should have lost our spars, and perhaps been dismasted, and with all these islands down to leeward we should have been in an awkward fix.”

“Yes, indeed;” Miller agreed. “We are all right now. Of course we shall get some sea soon, but these squalls don’t last many hours. It is only the first blow that is to be feared.”

“Do you think, Miller, you could get that pivot-gun sent down below? It is a big weight on deck, and when the sea gets up she will feel it.”

“I think so, sir. There is no sea on yet to speak of.”

The gun was amidships, half-way between the fore and mainmasts, and there was a hatchway just beyond the framework on which it travelled. Calling the crew together, Miller got tackles on the mainmast, and these with the blocks of the throat halliards of the foresail were hooked on to strops round the gun. Ropes were attached to it and manned to prevent it from swinging away to leeward when hoisted from the carriage.

“Now all ready,” Miller said. “Hoist on the falls handsomely, inch by inch. Stand fast to those stay-ropes; that is right. Now haul her aft. Lower away a little forward and let her swing gradually aft; that does it. Now she is over the hatchway. Lower away a little aft. Let her go down, breech foremost; that will do. Now a dozen of you go down to the main deck. You go down with them, Mr. Tarleton, and steer her clear through the lower hatchway.”

Gradually the muzzle of the heavy gun sank below the deck, and in five minutes it was safely stowed in the bottom of the hold. Then the hatches were put on again and battened down securely, and Miller went aft.

“That is a good job, Miller,” Martyn said. “The sea is getting up fast, and in another five minutes it would not have been safe to do it. It will make all the difference to us in such a short choppy sea as we shall be having.”

For six hours the wind blew with unabated force. A heavy sea got up, and, buoyant as she was, the schooner shipped water heavily over the bow, the seas being too short to give her time to rise and fall regularly over them. At the end of that time the wind fell almost as suddenly as it had risen, and half an hour later the schooner was on her course again, with all her lower sails set. It was not until evening that the sea had gone down sufficiently for the passengers to begin to make their appearance again on deck, looking worn out and exhausted by sea-sickness.

By this time the schooner was among the islands, and was passing through the Mykonos Channel, between the island of that name and Tenos. Syra rose above the water almost ahead, while Rhenea and Delos lay on her beam to the south. Her topsails were set now, and she was running fast through the water, her course being laid to pass between Seriphos and Siphnos, beyond which it was a straight course to Cape Malea, at the southern point of the Morea. A sharp look-out was kept at night for Anti-Melos on the one hand, and Falconera on the other. The former was made out, the land being high; but Falconera, a mere rock, was passed unobserved. In the morning the schooner was running through the Cervi Channel, between Cythera and Cervi, which island almost touches the mainland. A quiet night’s rest had completely restored the passengers, who came on deck early, and watched with interest the rocky shore of the Morea as they coasted along it.

Three days later the Misericordia dropped her anchor in the harbour of Corfu.

Mr. Beveridge was again overwhelmed with thanks by the grateful Chiots. Upon the way they had inquired of him if he had a wife or daughters, and were quite disappointed at hearing that he had no near female relatives, as they had intended to send a consignment of choice stuffs and embroideries to them in token of their gratitude. Before landing they handed to Martyn a hundred pounds to be divided among the crew, and on the day after landing sent off a very handsome case of pistols to each of the officers. As their goods were being got up from the hold they pointed out four barrels which were to remain behind.

“We brought them off specially for you, Mr. Beveridge,” they said. “They are the very choicest vintage of Chios, and we do hope that though you have refused to accept any substantial proof of our gratitude, you will not refuse to take these.”

The decks of the Misericordia seemed curiously still and deserted after the departure of their guests. It had been a very pleasant week while the Chiots had been on board, and Martyn and Miller both looked out of spirits, having temporarily lost their hearts to two of the Greek girls.

“We have the best of it now,” Tarleton laughed to the doctor. “What is the use of a week’s flirtation? Look at the parting at the end of it. The girls were pretty enough, no doubt; but what good would it be to take home a wife who did not speak your language, who was ignorant of English ways, and would be miserable in our climate, besides being of a different religion. I think it is just as well that the voyage was not longer; as it is, they will soon get over it.”

The captain and first officer had indeed but little time to think over it, for on the evening of the day after their arrival sail was again set on the schooner, and she started on her return to Chios, where, as Mr. Beveridge said, they were likely to find plenty more opportunities for doing good. The wind held steady, and they made a quick passage. Scarcely had they dropped anchor when a boat came off to them bearing an angry message from Lykourgos.

“You have assisted deserters to escape from the island,” he said, “and if any of you set foot on shore you will at once be arrested.”

They learned shortly afterwards from a boat that came alongside to sell fish that many of the richer inhabitants had been arrested and very heavily fined upon the accusation that they also intended to desert, and that all who had property had been compelled to pay considerable sums for protection against the excesses of the troops who had come, as they pretended, to deliver them. The officers were furious at the message from Lykourgos, and proposed going ashore with a strong party of armed sailors. Mr. Beveridge, however, decided that no steps should be taken for a day or two.

“We don’t want to become actually embroiled with these people unless it is necessary,” he said. “The Turkish fleet is expected here every day now, and Lykourgos and his crew will, we may be sure, take flight as soon as they appear, and we shall then have plenty of scope for our work. At any rate we will wait two or three days and see how matters turn up. If necessary we can then do as you propose, seize half a dozen of the ships, and tell the rest we will sink them if they don’t put to sea; that will bring the fellow to his senses at once. I don’t want to do it if I can help it, because we should afterwards be liable to attack at any of the islands we might happen to put into.”

A few hours later a fast Greek felucca came up and anchored between the schooner and the other vessels. A boat was lowered and rowed at once towards the transports.

“I fancy that fellow must have brought some news,” Martyn said. “Horace, will you go on board of him and find out where he comes from, and whether he has heard anything of the Turkish fleet?”

In ten minutes Horace reported:

“The Turks are only a few miles from the north of the island. The felucca has been watching them for the last week. They have been taking troops on board at all the ports on the mainland as they came down.”

Already the fleet had diminished by at least two-thirds since Lykourgos landed; but a small proportion of the plunder had fallen to the sailors, and as it was for this alone that the craft had taken part in the expedition, the greater portion soon became discontented and sailed away. As the Turkish fleet approached the island, a Turkish sloop, which had gone on ahead to ascertain the position of the Greeks, ran ashore and fell into the hands of the Greeks, who at once put to death every soul on board – the fate that had befallen every prisoner they had taken. Having thus done their utmost to exasperate the Turks, and to imperil the safety of the Christian inhabitants of the island, the Greeks made no effort to oppose the landing of the Mussulmans, but retired precipitately on their approach, and the Turks entered Chios, plundering the town of everything that had escaped the bands of Lykourgos, the irregulars who formed part of the army murdering every Christian they met.

Lykourgos had retreated to the village of St. George, whence, after a feeble attempt at defence, he escaped with his followers on board some Psarian ships that had, fortunately for him, arrived. These islanders had strongly opposed the expedition to Chios, and had taken no part in it, fearing to bring down the Turkish fleet upon themselves, as Psara lay but a short distance north of Chios. They maintained their fleet in port to aid in its defence should the Turks attack them. As soon, however, as they saw the Turkish fleet sail past Psara on its way to Chios they at once put to sea with the intention of harassing the Turks and rendering some assistance to the Christians.

The vengeance of the Turks now fell upon the unfortunate Chiots, who had been perfectly innocent of all share in the proceedings of Lykourgos, and who had already suffered so heavily at the hands of him and his robber bands. In the city the wealthier class generally succeeded in purchasing the protection of Turks in authority by paying large sums of money, but the rest were either slaughtered or seized to be sold into slavery. Three thousand Chiots, mostly the peasantry that had come down from the hills, retired to the monastery of Aghios Minas, five miles south of the city. The Turks surrounded them and summoned them to surrender. They refused to surrender, and the building was carried by storm, and all within it put to death. Two thousand persons were similarly slain at the capture of the monastery of Nea Mone; most of them were put to death by the sword, and the rest perished in the conflagration of the monastery.

Kara Ali, the capitan-pasha, did all in his power to save the island from being laid waste, knowing that the loss of the revenue derived from the island would greatly vex the sultan and his seraglio, to whom this revenue was specially appropriated. The regular troops were kept fairly in order, but the Bashi-Bazouks, that is the volunteers who had flocked to his standard, scattered over the island, plundering and slaying, but more especially carrying off women and children for sale in the slave-markets. The sultan, determined to strike terror into the hearts of the Greeks of the island, executed at Constantinople some Chiot hostages that had been sent there, and ordered the archbishop and seventy-five other Chiots to be executed by the capitan-pasha. During the whole time Lykourgos had been there the vessels from Psara they had been carrying off the Chiots from small ports and quiet bays round the island, and it was estimated that some fifteen thousand had been taken off in this way either before the arrival of the Turks or during the continuance of the massacres by them. The work was carried on with great vigour by the Psarians who reaped a rich harvest from their operations, demanding and receiving all the valuables of the unfortunate fugitives as the price for their passage to another island. Thus large numbers of wealthy Chiots were reduced to the most abject poverty by the avarice and extortion of those who professed to save them.

The Misericordia was very busy during the three weeks that followed the Turkish re-occupation of the island. Cruising round and round she carried off large numbers of fugitives, conveying them across to the nearest Greek islands. After making three such trips, and carrying over some twelve hundred fugitives, she left the work of rescue to the Psarians, and took up her station between the island and the mainland to cut off the craft that were, as they learned, conveying the women and children to the slave-markets of Smyrna. As speed was here of the greatest utility, vessel after vessel was overhauled and compelled to bring to by her guns. Then the boats went alongside, forced the Turkish sailors and Bashi-Bazouks to take to their boats, and then after transporting the rescued women and children to the schooner, set fire to the ships.

No less than eighteen were overhauled and destroyed in the course of a week – fourteen hundred women and children being rescued, the first two batches being landed at Psara as the nearest Greek island, while the last batch was taken to Athens. On returning from that trip they found that the destruction they caused had so alarmed the ship-owners of Smyrna that the traffic by sea had almost entirely ceased, and that the slaves were now carried across in boats or small vessels to the mainland opposite the island, which was but six or seven miles away. Here it was difficult to interrupt it, for the Turkish fleet lay off the town of Chios, and the smaller ships cruised about in the channel.