A BESIEGED VILLAGE
As soon as they gained the deck of the _Misericordia_ Miller reported
the advice the skipper of the English brig had given as to their
taking their station near the southern coast, to pick up vessels
hugging the shore on their way to Alexandria and the west.
“I have no doubt he is right,” Will Martyn said; “that accounts for
our not having seen a single craft flying the Turkish flag. Well, Mr.
Beveridge, I think we can’t do better than take his advice.”
“There is something else though,” Horace broke in; and he then told
them what the captain had said about the fighting among the villagers
on Mount Olympus.
“Don’t you think, father, we might go there first? With this wind we
should not be much more than twenty-four hours getting there, and we
might pick up a lot of fugitives in hiding and possibly bring off the
people from that village. It would not be a great loss of time
anyhow.”
“I think we might, Horace; hearing of it in the way you did, it seems
almost like a call to help them. What do you say, Captain Martyn?”
“Just as you like, sir. As Horace says, it is no great loss of time
anyhow, and we certainly may do some good.”
The order was given and the schooner was headed for Cyprus with a
brisk wind on her beam that heeled her well over and sent her through
the water at nine and a half knots an hour. The news was soon known
through the vessel that there were massacres going on in Cyprus, and
that there might be some work to be done, so there was an air of
increased activity and animation among the crew. The wind held
steadily, and next morning the mountains of Cyprus could be seen lying
like a cloud in the distance, and by eleven o’clock the
north-westerly point of the island was but five or six miles away.
Rounding the point they entered the great indentation known as Morphou
Bay. Martyn now ordered the topsails to be lowered.
“We will run along about a mile off shore,” he said; “they can make
out the flag then. We will go along as far as the other end of the bay
and then come back again. If there are any people in hiding in the
woods they will keep an eye on us, and as we come back will come off
in boats if they have got them, or will come down to the shore and
signal. We can send our boats in for them.”
As they were still going through the water faster than they wished the
foresail was also lowered, and they then went quietly along the coast,
keeping a sharp look-out with their glasses on the shore. They passed
several villages and could see that their appearance created much
excitement, and that the population at once deserted their houses and
made off.
“They are evidently all Mussulman villages,” Mr. Beveridge said.
“They are Mussulman villages at present, Mr. Beveridge,” Martyn
agreed, “but the chances are they were Christian a short time ago. You
see they have all got fishing boats either riding at anchor or hauled
up, and I fancy that most of the fishing is done by the Greek
inhabitants. I expect the Turks have cleared them out. What do you
say, Mr. Beveridge, to our firing a shot or two at each of the
villages as we pass? That will act as a warning to the Turks to keep
out of range. If there are any Christians left they may take the
opportunity of seizing the boats and coming off. We might lie-to for
half an hour opposite each village to give them a chance of doing so.”
“That would be a very good plan, I think, Captain Martyn.”
As they were passing a village at the moment the _Misericordia_ was at
once brought round. Two of the broadside guns were loaded, and two
shots were sent over the village. Then the craft was hove-to, and
waited for half an hour. As there were no signs of life, she again
proceeded on her way. Three more villages were fired at with the same
result. Half a mile beyond the furthest Tarleton exclaimed: “There is
someone swimming off, Captain Martyn; he has just put off from that
point! There, do you see that black spot a little way off the point?”
Martyn turned his glass in that direction. “I see him,” he said.
“Lower the small gig, Mr. Tarleton; take four hands, row off, and pick
him up. You had better go too, Horace. The chances are he won’t speak
anything but Greek.”
In a couple of minutes the boat left the side of the schooner and
rowed in the direction of the swimmer, the vessel being again thrown
up into the wind. Horace stood up while Tarleton took the tiller
lines.
“Can you see him, Horace?” he asked.
“No, not yet. There is too much ripple on; but if you keep her head as
it is now I shall make him out before long.” Three or four minutes
later he exclaimed: “I see him, he is dead ahead!”
Five minutes later the swimmer was alongside. He was a lad of about
Horace’s age.
“Are you Greek?” he asked in surprise and in some alarm, as he looked
at the uniforms of the crew as Horace helped him on board.
“We are fighting for Greece,” Horace said, “although we are all
English. We heard that there was some trouble here, and came to see if
we could save any fugitives.”
“I saw the flag,” the lad said, “and heard you fire twice at the
village. My mother and sisters, and twenty or thirty others, are
hidden in the wood there. The Mussulmans came down from the mountain
villages three days ago and killed all they could find; but we were
expecting it, for they had gone to the next village first, and a man
from there brought the news just before they arrived. We lived on the
outskirts and had time to get away, but I think my father and brothers
have been killed. Do go on shore and take them off.”
“We must go back to the ship first,” Horace said. “This boat is too
small to be of any use; besides, we must send a stronger crew. No
doubt the Turks are watching us, and will come down if they see us
landing.”
The schooner had filled again and was following the boat, so that in
two or three minutes they were on board. Horace lent the young Greek
some of his clothes, and the schooner stood in towards the point, with
a man in the chains sounding as they went.
“Ask him whereabouts they are, Horace.”
“Just on the other side of the point; but they will see us coming.”
“I see no signs of them yet,” Tarleton said when, having got within
three hundred yards of shore, the anchor was let go.
“It is likely enough,” said Martyn, “that some of the Turks may have
been coming down through the wood, and if the poor beggars heard them
they would not dare show themselves. Now, Mr. Miller, you take charge
of the long-boat with ten men. We will cover your landing.”
The four broadside guns were loaded with grape, and their crews
mustered to quarters, while the rest, armed with muskets, lined the
side.
“Take the boy with you, Mr. Miller, he can lead you to where his
friends are hiding. Don’t stop to fire as you make for shore. We will
dispose of any Turks there may be about.”
The boat had not rowed more than fifty yards before five or six musket
shots were fired from the bushes near the edge of the water.
“Give them a round with the aftermost gun,” Captain Martyn said; and
in a moment the water near the bushes was torn up with a shower of
grape. “Give the next gun more elevation, boatswain. Send the shot
well into the wood. That’s it. The same with the other two guns. That
will clear them all out.”
There was no further firing at the boat. As soon as it touched the
shore Miller jumped ashore with eight of the men, while the other
two pushed the boat off a few yards. Led by the Greek boy, the party
ran along the shore and were lost to view round the point. Two more
rounds were fired into the wood, but everything was quiet there, and
in five minutes Miller’s party made their appearance round the point
with a number of fugitives. No time was lost in getting them into the
boat, which at once rowed off to the schooner. There were but three
men among them, the rest were women and children. Most of them were
completely exhausted.
[Illustration: “GIVE THEM A ROUND,” SAID CAPTAIN MARTYN]
Horace, after asking them a question or two, said to Zaimes: “You had
better prepare some soup, Zaimes, as quickly as you can. They have had
nothing to eat for three days.”
While this was being done, a sip of wine and a mouthful of bread were
given to each. In the meantime some sailors were rigging up a
partition with sail-cloth across the main deck, and here hammocks were
slung for the use of the women and children. As soon as the poor
creatures had taken a basin of hot soup they revived a good deal and
poured out expressions of profuse gratitude to their rescuers. They
had passed a terrible three days crouching among the bushes, and
expecting every moment to be discovered. A few of the women had
snatched up their jewels before taking to flight, but most of them
were absolutely destitute. Mr. Beveridge and the two Greeks persuaded
them to go below and take the sleep they so much needed. As soon as
the deck was clear the anchor was got up, and the schooner proceeded
on her way. She reached the farthest headland of the bay just as night
began to fall, and Martyn decided to anchor there till morning. From
the Greek lad who had first swum off, they learned that the village
among the mountains still resisted.
“They say there are two or three hundred there who have taken refuge
from the villages round. There are some rich men among them, and that
is the reason why the Mussulmans are so anxious to take the place.”
“How many men are besieging it?”
“That I don’t know,” the boy replied. “I should think four or five
hundred.”
“But you have heard nothing for the last three days? The place may
have fallen since then.”
“No, I went last night to the village in hopes of finding bread in
some of the houses, but there were too many Turks about. I was near
enough to hear them talking. Some of them were going up to-day to join
in the siege.”
“How far is the place from the sea?”
“It is ten miles from this north shore, but it is not more than four
or five from the western coast.”
“Is there any road?”
“Not from that side. The roads from the mountain villages all lead
down to the bay.”
“Is it too steep to climb from the other side?”
“Not too steep to climb on foot. Donkeys and mules could get up
there.”
The matter was talked over in the cabin that evening, and it was
agreed that if a guide could be obtained an attempt should be made to
carry off the occupants of the village. During the night a boat with
twelve fugitives came off from the shore and as the _Misericordia_
sailed slowly along the coast on the following day several parties of
from three to ten people came out from the trees and waved white
handkerchiefs and scarfs. All these were brought off, and four or five
boats full of people were picked up during the day. Their occupants
had seen the schooner passing on the previous day, and had at night,
when the Mussulmans in the village were asleep, stolen down to the
beach, launched boats, and put out to sea in the hope that the
schooner would return next day. All were overwhelmed with joy at
finding themselves under the Greek flag, although the greater portion
of them had lost everything they possessed. The women and children
were, like the first batch, provided for below, while the men and boys
were told they must sleep on deck, which was no hardship in that balmy
climate.
Among those in the last boat picked up near the west point of the bay
was a young man who was a native of a village lying a short distance
from the one that was besieged. He happened to be down in the coast
village when the Turks commenced hostilities there, and hearing that
the village to which he belonged had been destroyed, he had remained
in hiding near the coast. Marco and his brother, who mingled with the
fugitives, had learned this, and at once took the news to the cabin.
“He says he has been a goat-herd, and knows all the paths among the
mountains.”
“Then he is the very fellow we want to get hold of,” Will Martyn said.
“We had better have him in here and question him.”
The young Greek was brought in. He knew of several paths from the
village down to the western shore.
“Now what sort of place is this village?” Captain Martyn asked.
“It stands at the top of rocky ground that slopes away all round it.
There are vineyards and gardens among the rocks. Since the trouble in
Greece began, the people have been frightened, and have built a wall
five or six feet high round the village, and the Christians in all the
villages round decided that if there was trouble from the Mussulmans
they would go there to help defend it.”
“Is there high ground round the village?”
“Yes, the hills rise very high on three sides, but they are too far
away for guns to do much harm; besides, the houses stand thickly
together. My people will fight till the last, but I don’t know how
long the provisions will last. I know they all made up their minds
that if they were besieged and saw no hope of succour, they would at
last kill all the women and children to prevent their being made
slaves by the Turks, and then they would march out to fight until the
last man was slain.”
“How long would it take us to get up from the shore to the village?”
“One can come down in an hour, but it takes three hours’ hard work to
get up.”
“Could you after dark take us close to the point where one of these
paths comes down to the shore?”
“Oh, yes, I could do that easily.”
“Very well, that will do for the present. Now, Mr. Beveridge, it is
for you to decide,” Martyn said. “Of course the affair is a risky one;
but it seems to me that forty well-armed English sailors ought to be
able to make their way into the village without very much difficulty,
for of course the Turks will be scattered about all round it. The
difficulty is not in getting in, but in getting out. We should have to
bring perhaps two or three hundred women and children, and cover their
retreat down to the water. Of course the men would help us, but still
it would be a stiff job in the face of four or five hundred of the
enemy. These Turks may know nothing of soldiering, but they are
mountaineers and are used to arms, and for irregular fighting like
this, would be quite as formidable as the best troops. If we knew
anything about the ground we should be able to give a more decided
opinion. What of course we should want, if possible, would be some
post, either a defile or a steep eminence that we could hold for half
an hour and keep the Turks back until the women and children are well
on their way down the mountain. After that we could make a bolt for
it, and might get down without much loss; but if there is no place
where we could make a stand anywhere along the road, we should be in
an awkward fix, especially if the path is a bad one, as I expect it
is. You see the whole party would have to go in single file, and if
there are four or five hundred of them, it would be next to impossible
to guard the flanks and keep the Turks off if they made a rush, while
every shot they fired would tell on such a long line. You understand,
Mr. Beveridge, I am putting the matter to you in the worst light so
that we should all understand the sort of business it is likely to
be.”
“I see that it is a very serious affair, Martyn; but at the same time,
when we know that there are so many lives at stake, I think that we
must run the risk, however great.”
“Very well, then, that is settled, Mr. Beveridge, and I am sure we are
all glad that you have decided so. The next question is, who shall go,
and who shall remain behind.”
“I shall certainly go,” Mr. Beveridge said. “I am not going to allow
others to take risks that I do not share myself.”
“We ought to be as strong a party as possible,” Martyn said. “At the
same time we must leave enough to sail the schooner, if not to fight
her. It is probable that yesterday morning, as soon as our flag was
seen, messengers were sent off at once to Limasol and Larnaca to tell
them that a Greek vessel was in the bay; and if there are any Turkish
vessels of war in either of these harbours, we shall be having them
coming round.”
“That is likely enough,” Miller said. “We must certainly be ready to
get up our anchor and be off at a minute’s notice.”
“Well, Miller, then you must remain on board with ten men. We will
load all the guns before we go. Ten men are enough to get up sail and
to fight the pivot-gun. You had better not waste any time in getting
up the anchor, but buoy and then slip the cable. We can recover it, if
we like, afterwards. If you should be driven off the coast while we
are away, lower a sail under her fore-foot so as to deaden her way and
encourage the Turks with the hope that they are going to catch you.
Lead them a dance for seven or eight hours, then cut the drag adrift,
set every stitch of sail, and run back again. You will be here in
plenty of time to get us all on board before they can come up again.
Of course if we see that you are gone we shall choose some position
where we can make a stout defence, and shall hold it until you come
back to the anchorage.”
“All right, sir. I will obey orders. Of course I would rather have
gone with the expedition ashore; but someone must stay on board, and
if you are going I must take the command in your absence. Ten men will
be quite enough for me. We can leave the main and foresail standing
when we anchor, so that will be plenty of strength.”
“Well, as that is all settled, we will bout ship and cruise east
again. It will be dark in an hour, and it is well they should think on
shore that we are off again to the east. I daresay they can make us
out from points on the mountains not far from the village. If they see
us sailing away, it will never enter their heads that we have any
intention of interfering in their little game up there.”
Accordingly the schooner was again put about, and retraced her course
along the shore until it became quite dark; then she stood out to sea
until well out of sight of land, when she was headed west again. The
news had already got about through the ship that there was to be a
landing party to rescue a number of Christians besieged by the Turks
among the mountains, and the sailors were in the highest spirits,
cutlasses were ground, pistols and muskets served out to those who
were to land, and the disappointment of those who were to remain
behind was mitigated by Horace mentioning to them that not improbably
they might have a brush with the Turks on their own account.
Cartridges, muskets, and pistols were served out, and the arms
carefully examined. Each man was ordered to take with him a
water-bottle filled with weak grog, and two pounds of bread in his
haversack, and a hearty supper was served out. Once round the point of
the bay the schooner was kept close in shore. The Greek kept a sharp
look-out on the hills looming high above them, and about nine o’clock
announced that they were now near the place where a track from the
mountain came down to the shore. The anchor was at once dropped and
the headsails lowered. Then the sailors took their places in three
boats, two of the men who were to stop behind going in each to bring
them back to the schooner when the landing had been effected. Zaimes
was to accompany the party, while Marco remained with Mr. Miller on
board.
Ten of the fugitives, active young men, had begged to be allowed to
accompany the expedition, but the offer had been declined, and they
were told that they might be more useful helping to work the guns of
the schooner should a Turkish ship-of-war come round. When the arms
had been purchased a dozen good rifles had been among them, and after
Mr. Beveridge, Zaimes, and the three officers had each armed
themselves with one of these, the rest were divided among the best
shots of the party. Tom Burdett, much to his disappointment, was left
on board to assist the first lieutenant.
As soon as the boats reached the shore the men were formed up.
Tarleton was to lead the advance party of ten men, having with him the
guide. Close behind these were the main body, twenty strong, led by
Martyn; behind them Mr. Beveridge, with Zaimes and the surgeon, who
was also accompanying the party, had their place. Horace commanded the
rear-guard of ten men. Although this nominal division was made, the
whole party kept closely together, as the night was so dark that they
might otherwise have missed each other. None of the fire-arms were
loaded, lest an accident should occur by a gun being discharged by a
fall, by striking against a rock, or by the trigger catching in a
bush.
After a few hundred yards’ walk along the shore the Greek struck upon
the track and led the way up, the rest following in single file. The
climb seemed interminable to Horace. At times it was so steep it was
difficult to scramble up, and in the darkness there were many falls.
There were frequent stops, to enable the men to get their breath; but
after three hours’ climbing they at last reached comparatively level
ground, and the guide told them they were within half a mile of the
ridge from which they could look down upon the village.
“Well, we will move slowly forward until we come either to some bushes
or a bit of a hollow where we can get some shelter, for it is quite
sharp up here, and as soon as the men begin to cool down a bit they
will feel it. I wish we had brought blankets now, but it never struck
me that it would be cold. Mr. Tarleton, let your ten men scatter.
Don’t let them wander too far, but let them search about for some
place where we can get shelter. We will remain here; and if any of
the men find a place, send one back to bring us up. We have got
another four hours to wait before daylight.”
In ten minutes one of the men came back with news that they had found
a patch of bush large enough for them to take shelter in. In a short
time they all arrived at the spot. The bushes were sweet smelling and
free from thorns, and the men soon crushed their way into them and lay
down.
“You will remain in charge, Mr. Tarleton. I shall go on and take a
look down at the village. I don’t suppose we shall see much, but we
may be able to make out whether they are still holding out. Will you
go on with me, Mr. Beveridge, or stay here?”
“I will go on with you. I find it bitterly cold here; for not being
accustomed to hard work, as your men are, I found that climb almost
too much for me; and hot as I have been, I should not like to stop
still in this keen air, even with the shelter of the bushes.”
“Well, we will take it easy this last bit, Mr. Beveridge. Come along,
Horace.”
Again preceded by the guide, and followed by Zaimes, they ascended the
shoulder of the hill. It was a steep pull, but in a quarter of an hour
they reached the crest. Just as they did so they heard the report of a
gun, followed at once by several others. An exclamation of
satisfaction broke from them. Their climb had not been in vain; the
village was still holding out. Fifty yards farther the ground fell
away suddenly in front of them, and they stood at the edge of a deep
descent. Extending round the foot of the hills that formed the
amphitheatre in the centre of which the village lay, was a line of
fires; some blazing brightly, others dim red spots. Another chain of
fires, much closer together, extended across the mouth of the valley.
The village, lying in the black shadow of the hills, was invisible to
them, and not even a single light indicated its position.
“That is where it is,” the guide said, pointing down to the centre of
the hollow.
As he spoke a flash of flame, followed a second or so later by a
report, shot out from the spot towards which he was pointing.
“They are keeping a sharp look-out,” Martyn said; “they are not to be
caught napping. Now the point is, which is our best side for going
down on the village without being seen?”
“The best point,” the guide said, “would be from the head of the
valley. Orchards extend from the village to the foot of the hill, and
a ravine runs some distance up there. If we could get into that, we
might get some distance through the orchards before we are noticed.”
“Could you lead us along the side of the hill to this ravine in the
dark?”
“I think so. I am sure I could lead you. The danger would be from
setting stones in motion and so calling the attention of the enemy.
The hillside is very steep, and a stone set rolling would go right
down to their fires.”
“We must risk that,” Martyn said. “It would be a great thing to be
able to take them by surprise. Don’t you think so, Mr. Beveridge?”
“I should say it was well worth trying. But it is the getting out, not
the getting in, that seems to me the difficult part of the business.”
“There is no doubt about that,” Martyn agreed. “Will you ask him if
this part we are standing on goes straight down to the village? The
slope looks to me almost too steep.”
Mr. Beveridge put the question to the guide.
“He says the road zigzags. Olive-trees grow up for some
distance--about a third of the distance, he says.”
“That is good,” Martyn said, “because if we get the people with a
sudden rush across the open we can defend the lower edge of these
trees, and the women and children will be hidden from below till they
get up above the trees, where they would be pretty well out of danger
except from a chance shot. I think, Mr. Beveridge, it would be a good
thing to leave Tarleton with fifteen men here. If we can take them by
surprise five-and-twenty of us ought to be quite enough to make our
way in. Even if there are six hundred of them they must be scattered
pretty thinly round this circle, and are probably thickest down at the
mouth of the valley. The rear-guard here will of course be concealed
until we sally out. Then if the Turks from the other side and the end
of the valley try to climb the hill on either side of the path so as
to cut us off, our fellows here could open fire and prevent them doing
so, and as the enemy would not be able to see how many men there are,
it would stop them a bit.”
“I think that would be a very good plan, Captain Martyn.”
“Very well, then. Horace, do you go back to the bushes, bring Mr.
Tarleton and the men up. Tell them to move as quietly as they can when
they get near this point.”
The men got up willingly when Tarleton gave the word, for although the
bushes afforded some shelter, they were already feeling very chilled,
and were pleased to be in motion again. They met Martyn a short
distance from the spot where Horace had left him. The men were halted.
“Now, Mr. Tarleton, you are to take the fourteen men who came ashore
with you in the gig. For the present you had best return with them to
the bushes and wait there till daylight. Then you will come back to
this point. Post the men where they cannot be seen from below. Be sure
that not a head is shown. Take your own post at a point whence you can
see down into the valley without being seen yourself. You will remain
in hiding while we fight our way into the village. As soon as you see
the sortie begun get your men ready for action, and let them lie down
without showing themselves more than they can help at the edge of the
brow from which they can fire down into the valley. Your duty is to
prevent any parties of the enemy working along the side of the hill to
take the fugitives and us in flank as we come up the path. As the
women and children arrive tell them to push on along the path as fast
as they can, without stopping or paying attention to any fire that
may be opened upon them. They will be told before they start that the
schooner is in readiness to take them off. Still, you may as well
hurry them along. You will remain here until the last and form the
rear-guard. But we shall all make a stand here as long as we can so as
to give the women and children plenty of a start. Do you quite
understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Shall I go with you or wait here?” Macfarlane asked.
“I think you might as well stay here, doctor. There won’t be any time
for you to be dressing wounds till we are back here again.”
Tarleton called out the men who had landed with him, and marched off
with them.
“Now, my lads,” Martyn said to the others, “we are going to work along
the side of the hill so as to come down behind them. But I fancy it
will be very steep in places. Sling your muskets behind you so as to
have both hands to hold on by. If you once begin to roll you go right
down to the bottom, and then there is an end to our chance of
surprising them. Be careful, above all things, how you walk, for if
you set a stone rolling it will put them on their guard. We have to go
as quietly as mice. Now follow me in single file, and keep as close as
you can to each other, yet so far off that if you stumble you won’t
touch the man in front of you.”
The men fell in, and Horace took his place at the rear. A few steps
and they halted. The guide then went on in front of Martyn, and Mr.
Beveridge and Zaimes fell in behind him. The hill rose so abruptly on
the right that it was necessary to keep along on its slope, and very
cautiously the men made their way along the hillside. Each step had to
be felt before they put their weight down. Sometimes it was slippery
grass, and so steep that they were obliged to crawl on all-fours to
make their way along it. Sometimes they passed patches of bare rock
and sometimes slides of loose stones. They had gone but a short
distance when Martyn passed the word along in a whisper for them to
sit down, pull off their shoes, and fasten them round their necks.
Indeed, had it not been for this precaution, there were places across
which it would have been impossible to pass. As it was, it took them a
full hour to traverse the half-mile between the point from which they
had started and the head of the valley. At last a sharp fall told them
that they were at the edge of the ravine. As soon as they descended
into it there was a short halt to allow Mr. Beveridge to rest.
“I am sorry I came,” he said as he sat down faint and exhausted. “I
did not reckon on this sort of thing, Captain Martyn. If I had done so
I would have remained with Tarleton.”
“It is all right now, Mr. Beveridge. We have done our climbing, and it
is a marvel that we have done it without alarming those fellows below,
for some small stones rolled down once or twice. But if they noticed
them, no doubt they thought that it was some sheep or goats on the
hillside. Now, my lads, before you go any further, you had better take
a drink from your bottles. You will have to be careful in going down
the ravine, for there are sure to be loose stones lying about.”
After a halt of five minutes they proceeded cautiously down, and at
last, to their great satisfaction, stood on level ground, and soon
entered a grove of fruit-trees, where they halted and lay down. There
was a short consultation whether their guide should try and make his
way into the village to inform the besieged of the help that was near
in order that they might assist by opening a fire upon the besiegers
as soon as the sailors made their attack. The idea was, however,
abandoned, because, were he seen by the Turks, it would put them on
the alert; and because, in the second place, he might be shot by the
besieged as he approached the village. It did not seem to Martyn that
there could be any difficulty in their getting in. It was not likely
that more than fifty of the enemy at the outside could interpose
between them and the village, and these, taken by surprise, and
ignorant of the number of their assailants, could offer no effectual
resistance, and they would be up under shelter of the guns of the
defenders of the village before the Turks could rally from their first
surprise.
Another two hours and daylight began to appear. Martyn waited until it
was light enough to make their way through the trees without
difficulty. Then the men, most of whom had fallen asleep as soon as
they lay down, were roused.
“Now, my lads, you are to keep together. Keep your muskets slung, and
use cutlass and pistol. I don’t expect there will be any serious
resistance, but, at any rate, don’t straggle. Of course we don’t want
any prisoners. Shoot or cut down any one who opposes you, and follow
me straight on. Now, load your pistols.”
As soon as this was done they proceeded through the wood. The guide,
as before, led the way. His instructions were that directly they were
through the Turks he was to run on at the top of his speed, shouting
to the villagers not to fire, as those approaching were friends.
Martyn, Mr. Beveridge, Horace, and Zaimes, followed close behind the
guide, the line of seamen extending behind them. They were nearly
through the orchard when a shout was given and they saw a dozen
figures leap up from the ground.
“Come along, lads!” Martyn shouted.
The sailors gave a cheer, and at a run the party rushed forward. The
Turks, astounded at the appearance of this body of sailors, snatched
up their muskets, one or two fired at random, and then the whole fled
when their assailants were still thirty yards away. A few pistols were
emptied at the fugitives, and then, paying no further attention to
them, the party kept straight on. When they emerged from the trees the
village was but some three hundred yards away. The Greek, waving his
red sash and shouting “Friends, friends, do not fire!” dashed forward
at full speed across the gardens that intervened between the orchard
and the rocky knoll upon which the village stood. A row of heads
appeared above the wall and a line of musket-barrels pointed outward.
As the Greek approached shouts of welcome and triumph broke from the
besieged, which swelled more and more loudly as the party of sailors
were seen running in a compact body towards the wall.
A few straggling shots were fired by the Turks, but these passed
harmlessly overhead, and the party reached the wall without a single
casualty, and were soon helped over. The delight of the Greeks was
only equalled by their astonishment at the approach of this body of
foreign sailors. All hope of either escape or rescue had left them,
and they had thought only of fighting to the last. As soon as they
understood from the guide, Zaimes, Horace, and Mr. Beveridge that
there was a ship in readiness to take them off, and that there was a
chance of fighting their way through the besiegers, the village was
the scene of the wildest delight. The men shouted, screamed, danced,
laughed, and wept by turns. The women seized the sailors’ hands and
kissed them, to the confusion of the tars, threw themselves on their
knees, and poured out passionate ejaculations of thanksgiving that a
hope of rescue should be afforded them, and it was some time before
anything like order was restored. By this time the alarm had spread
round the circle of the besiegers, and their anger was exhibited by
shots being fired into the place, many of them pressing forward so
threateningly that the defenders manned the walls, and opening fire
upon the Turks drove them back out of range of their guns.