Some few years ago, when I was a youngster, I had what was then the
great desire of my heart gratified by being allowed to accompany a party
on a yachting cruise to the Mediterranean.
How I enjoyed myself, and how tragically our cruise nearly terminated, I
will now proceed to tell.
There were six of us in all on board the yacht. There was dad, one;
Captain Buncombe, two; Mr Joe Moynham, three; Bob, four; myself,
Charley, five; and dog Rollo, six--though I think, by rights, I ought to
have counted Rollo first, as he was the best of us all, and certainly
thought the least of himself--brave, fine, black, curly old fellow that
he was!
Just as you fellows in England were having the nastiest part of the
winter, when there is no skating or snowballing, and only drenching rain
and easterly winds, that bring colds and coughs and mumps, we were
enjoying the loveliest of blue skies and jolly warm weather, that made
swimming in the sea a luxury, and ices after dinner seem like a taste of
nectar. We did enjoy ourselves; and had a splendid cruise up the old
Mediterranean, going everywhere and seeing everything that was to be
seen. Oh, it was jolly! The yacht stopped at Gibraltar, where we
climbed the rock and saw the monkeys that lived in the caverns on the
top; at Malta, where we went up the "Nothing to Eat" stairs mentioned in
_Midshipman Easy_: and then, sailing up the Levant, the _Moonshine_--she
was eighty tons, and the crack of the RYS--was laid up at anchor for a
long time at Alexandria, while we went ashore, going through the Suez
Canal, across the desert to Cairo, and thence to the pyramids, after
which we started for Greece.
You must know, before we get any further, that Bob and I didn't want to
go anywhere near Greece at all! We had good reasons for this dislike.
There were dad and Captain Buncombe--who was what people call an
archaeologist, fond of grubbing up old stones and skeletons, and digging
like an old mole amongst ruins--continually talking all day long about
Marathon and Hymettus, the Parthenon and Chersonese, the Acropolis, and
Theseus and Odysseus and all the rest of them, bothering our lives out
with questions about Homer and the _Iliad_, and all such stuff; so, I
put it to you candidly, whether it wasn't almost as bad as being back
again at school, making a fellow feel small who was shaky in his Greek
and had a bad memory for history?
However, we had scarcely anchored in the Piraeus when some events
happened which drove the classics out of the heads of our elders; and I
may say that thenceforth we heard no more about the ancients.
There had been a sharp squall shortly before, in which we had been
amused by seeing the smart little zebeques, with their snowy white
lateen sails, flying before the wind like a flock of small birds
frightened by a hawk; and the _Moonshine_ was just coming up to the wind
in order to let go her anchor, when Bob and I, who were close together
on the forecastle, watching the men preparing for running out and
bitting the cable, saw, almost at the same moment, a man's head in the
water right in front of the yacht's forefoot; then--it all happened as
suddenly as a flash of lightning--his hands were thrown up as if in
entreaty, although we heard no cry, and he disappeared.
"Man overboard!" sang out one of the crew, who was pulling away at the
jib down-haul in order to stow the sail, the halliards having been cast
loose, "Man overboard!" in a voice which rang through the vessel fore
and aft, and attracted everybody's attention.
"Hi! Rollo, good dog!" cried out Bob, turning round sharp to where the
brave old fellow had been lying on the deck not a moment before,
flopping his tail lazily, and with his great red tongue lolling out, as
though he laughed cheerily at everything going on around him.
"Hi! Rollo!" said I too, in almost the same breath with Bob. "Fetch
him out, good dog!" and I turned round also.
But the dog was gone.
Bob and I were "nonplussed." We had both seen Rollo there not--why, not
a second before. And now he was gone.
However, we soon discovered the noble fellow and the cause of his
absence.
The cry of "Man overboard!" had startled everybody, so that the anchor
had not been let go; and the steersman's attention, naturally, having
been taken up, the yacht had paid off again instead of bringing up, and
her head had swung; consequently, what had been ahead of us just before
was now astern, and we were quite confused as to our bearings.
While we were looking in perplexity in every direction but the right
one, Captain Buncombe, who was at the wheel, and perhaps anxious to
atone for his carelessness in letting the _Moonshine_ swing round,
shouted out "Bravo!" waving his hat like a madman. Of course all our
several pairs of eyes were turned on him at once.
"There he is--there he is--the brave old fellow!" cried the captain,
letting go the helm in his eagerness, and pointing with his hat--waving
hand to the water under the stern. "Look aft, you duffers! Where are
your eyes? Bravo, Rollo! good dog! Hold up, old fellow! I'm coming to
help you!" and with these words, before you could say "Jack Robinson,"
Captain Buncombe had thrown off his coat, pitched away the hat he had
been waving, jumped over the taffrail of the yacht into the bosom of the
blue Aegean Sea, and was rapidly swimming to where we could see dear old
Rollo's black head and splashing paws as he supported a man in the
yacht's wake, and tried to drag him towards us in the _Moonshine_.
We gave a "Hooray!" which you might have heard at Charing Cross if you
had been listening!
Captain Buncombe and Rollo, with their burden, were so near the yacht
that there was no necessity for lowering the gig as we had hastened to
do; and in a very little time we hauled them on board--Rollo jumping
about in the highest spirits, as if he had been just having a quiet lark
on his own account; but the rescued person was limp and insensible,
though he presently came to by the aid of hot-water bottles and
blankets. The _Moonshine_ then made another start, and succeeded better
in anchoring in a respectable fashion, as she had always been accustomed
to do.
The man was a handsome young fellow, with black hair and piercing eyes--
a Greek, he told us in French which he spoke fluently--although he had
not that treacherous cast of countenance which most of his countrymen
possess. He was profuse in the thanks which he bestowed broadcast for
our saving him from drowning, although Rollo had really all the credit
of it. His name was Stephanos Pericles, he said, and he was crossing to
Salamis, when the squall came on, and his boat was upset. He had been
dragged under water by the boat and almost suffocated before he could
get to the surface, being quite exhausted when the dog gripped him. For
Rollo had seen him before any of us, and had not waited for our
directions as to what to do.
"I'm a soldier," he said, proudly tapping his chest, and looking round
at dad and the captain, and Mr Moynham. "I've eaten your bread,"--he
had dinner with us after he had got all right again, and we had settled
down into that general routine in which our meals were attended to with
the strictest punctuality--"and I shall never forget you have saved my
life. By that bread I have eaten, I will repay you, I swear!"
Then turning to Bob and I, who were sitting on each side of him, and
Rollo, who stuck close to him, as if under the idea that having saved
him he was now his property--"And much thanks to you, little Englishmen,
and your dogs I vill nevare forget, no nevare!"
He couldn't speak English as well as French. The evening had closed
now, so Captain Buncombe told the crew to get the boat ready, and the
Greek with many more fervent expressions of gratitude, was rowed ashore.
The next morning we had landed and after pottering about the port
proceeded up to Athens, which much disappointed all of us, especially
dad and the captain. It had a garish and stucco-like appearance; while
the people looked as if they were costumed for a fancy ball, being not
apparently at home in their national dress, picturesque though it was.
It was quite nightmarish for Bob and me to read the names on the shop
fronts in the streets, and see the newspapers printed in the old Greek
characters. Fancy "Modiste," and "Perruquier," as they will have the
French terms spelt, in the letters sacred to Euripides and Xenophon. It
seemed like walking in a dream!
We had inspected Athens, as I've said, and visited the plain of
Marathon, which was offered by the Greeks to Lord Byron for sixteen
thousand piastres, or about eight hundred pounds--alas for glory!--and
returned on board the yacht for dinner again, when we were told that a
messenger had been off in our absence and left a parcel for us. What do
you think it contained? Guess.
Well, there was a splendid shawl, worth more than a hundred guineas, for
Captain Buncombe, and a handsome jewelled pipe for dad; while Mr Joe
Moynham had a case of Greek wines for his special self!
Bob and I were not forgotten either. He had a fine gun, with the stock
inlaid with ivory, and carved beautifully; and I, a yataghan, decorated
with a jewelled hilt, that was even more valuable than dad's pipe.
Rollo was presented with a grand gold collar, which Mr Joe Moynham said
was like the one that Malachi, one of the Irish kings, wore in the days
of Brian Boru; and, if you please, a lot of little purses, each
containing a handsome present, were sent also in the parcel--a good big
one, you may be sure--for distribution amongst the crew. It was
princely gratitude, wasn't it, in spite of the slighting way in which
Mr Moynham had spoken of the modern Greeks and their ways? However, he
had to "take it all back," as he said, when he drank the health of
Monsieur Pericles--who seemed, by the way, to be much better off than
his illustrious ancestor, and whom we put down as the Sultan Haroun el
Raschid in disguise--in a glass of the very wine that he had sent on
board the yacht.
But that wasn't the end of it all, by any means:-- why, I am only just
coming to my real story now.
Time rolled on--when I say "time," of course, I only mean hours and days
as we mean, not years and centuries as the ancients calculated the lapse
of time--and we managed to see everything that sight-seers see in the
city of Minerva.
Having nothing else to look at close at hand, therefore, we determined
to go on our travels, like Ulysses; not amongst the islands, which we
had already visited, but towards the mountains, Captain Buncombe having
made a vow ere he left England to see the ruins of Thebes, after which,
he said, he would have no further object in life, and would perform the
Japanese feat of the "happy despatch!"
We had horses, and mules, and donkeys for the journey; that is, dad and
the captain rode horses, there were mules for our traps and food, which
we had to take along with us, thanks to the hospitality of the regions
we were going to, while the donkeys were for Bob and me and Mr Moynham.
That gentleman, who would be very positive when he liked, declared that
no earthly consideration should compel him to mount the Bucephalus that
was provided for him. He said that a horse was expressly stated by King
David to be "a vain thing to save a man," and so why should he go
against that ruling?
The first part of our journey went off as jolly as possible: the way was
good; the scenery--although I confess I didn't trouble my head very much
about it--though dad and the captain were in raptures with it--
magnificent; the halts, just at the right time, although all in classic
places, whose names Bob and I hated the sound of; the food was first-
rate, and Mr Moynham so funny, that he nearly made me roll off my
donkey every now and then with laughter. But towards evening, when we
were all ascending a steep hill, with rocks and thick shrubbery on each
side of it, through a narrow defile, a harsh voice suddenly exclaimed
through the gloom, something that sounded like the Greek imperative
Statheets! _Stop_! and then again another monosyllable, which we
certainly understood better, "Halt!" A gun was also fired off at the
same time; and, by the flash of the discharge we could see several long
gleaming rifle barrels peering out from the bushes on either side of the
way.
"Brigands!" ejaculated the guides together, tumbling prostrate on the
ground pell-mell, as if they had been swept down.
"Fascia a terra! Ventre a terre!" shouted out the same hoarse voice
again, and a volley was fired over our heads.
"Pleasant!" said Mr Moynham, throwing himself down with his face to the
ground like the cowardly guides. "But I suppose we'd better do as these
gentry require, or else they'll be hitting us under the fifth
buttonhole; and, what would become of us then?"
"Fascia a terra!" repeated the leader of the brigands, emerging from a
clump of shrubbery at the head of the pass, motioning his arms violently
at dad and the captain, who were inclined to show fight at first; but
discretion proved the better part of valour, and they both dropped the
pistols they had hurriedly drawn from their pockets, seeing that the
rifle barrels covered them, sinking down prone on the earth like the
rest of us.
Rollo, however, poor brave old fellow, made one dash at the ruffian as
he threatened dad; and, seizing him by the throat, dashed him to the
ground.
Poor fellow, the next moment he had a stiletto jammed into him, which
made him sink down bleeding, with a faint howl, to which Bob and I
responded with a cry, as if we felt the blow ourselves!
The moment dad and Captain Buncombe heard Rollo's howl and our cry, they
jumped up again like lightning, and began hitting out right and left at
the brigands who now surrounded us; and Mr Moynham was not behind, I
can tell you! He butted one big chap right in the pit of the stomach,
and sent him tumbling down the defile, his body rattling against the
stones, and he swearing like mad all the time. Bob and I scrambled at
them as best we could, catching hold of their legs and tripping them up;
but they were too many for us, for the cowardly guides did not stir hand
or foot to help us, but lay stretched like logs along the ground,
although they were unbound. We were certain that they were in league
with the robbers; and so, without doubt, they were, for, if they had
only assisted us, now that their assailants had dropped their firearms,
and were engaged in a regular rough-and-tumble fight, we could have
mastered them, I'm sure, as, counting Bob and myself in, we were nearly
man for man as many as they were.
The struggle did not last long, although dad and the captain held out
bravely to the last, flooring the brigands one after another, and
knocking them down as if they had been nine-pins. They were presently
tied securely, with their arms behind them, and menaced with death if
they stirred, by a brawny ruffian touching each of their heads with a
pistol barrel. As for Bob and me, they did not think it necessary to
tie us.
"Well, this is a delightful ending to our picnic," said Mr Moynham in
lugubrious tones, as we all lay on the ground, with the exception of the
guides, who appeared to mingle freely with the robbers, who were grouped
in picturesque attitudes around us, leaning on their carbines. "I
wonder what's their little game?"
The leader presently gave an order, and our seniors were then each
lifted on to a horse or mule, and tied securely there.
"At all events," said Mr Moynham, who kept up his spirits still
wonderfully, "we sha'n't fall off, that's one comfort, and so we'll have
the less bruises after the scrimmage!"
Although the chief brigand scowled at me, he allowed me to lift poor
Rollo, who was not dead as I had feared, and I bandaged his neck where
the wound was with my handkerchief, and took him up in front of me.
The leader then spoke vehemently in his own language to one of the
treacherous guides, who approached dad as if to speak.
"Away, scoundrel!" said dad, wrathfully. "Don't speak to me; I would
kill you if I were free, for leading us into this ambush!"
The man, however, urged again by the chief, who raised his pistol
ominously at dad, approached him once more.
"The Albanian chief says that if twenty thousand piastres apiece, or one
hundred thousand piastres in all, are not paid for you by sunset here
to-morrow evening, you shall all be shot in cold blood, and your doom be
on your own heads."
"Tell your chief, or thief, or whatever ruffian he is, that none of us
will pay a penny. Our friends at Athens will miss us, and you'll have
the palikari after you all in hot haste if I'm not back to-night safe."
"The English lord forgets that he left word that he might remain for two
days on the mountains, and his friends will not think him missing before
to-morrow night: at that time, the English lord and his friends, and the
little lords, will be all dead men if the ransom be not paid."
"What on earth shall I do, Buncombe?" asked dad of the captain. "Shall
I write an order on my bankers for the money to be sent? One hundred
thousand piastres will be about five thousand pounds--I don't know
whether my credit will be good for that amount?"
"Your credit and mine will be sufficient," Captain Buncombe said; "one
can't trifle with these fellows, for the villains keep their word, I'm
told."
The guide again spoke by the chief's order to dad, as if the tenor of
the captain's words were understood.
"The Albanian chief declares that if the ransom be not paid by sunset
to-morrow at latest, every one of you shall be shot, and your heads cut
off and sent back to Athens in token of your fate."
"Ugh!" said Mr Moynham, shuddering; "I certainly have been a Tory
throughout all my life, but I should not like to follow Charles the
First's example."
"I declare it's disgraceful," said Captain Buncombe; "I'll apply to the
ambassador. This brigandage is the curse of Greece. I'll--"
"That won't help us now," said dad. "I suppose we must write for the
ransom, although under protests; for, however much we have to pay, we
must remember that our lives are in jeopardy; and that's the main
consideration."
The advice was good; so, a joint letter was despatched to certain
influential friends, as well as dad's banker at Athens, urging that the
ransom should be sent in a certain way, to be handed over, as the
brigand chief arranged, as we were given up, so that there should be no
treachery on either side. The false guides then went off cheerfully
down hill towards the plains, whilst our cavalcade, encompassed by the
brigands, moved towards those mountain fastnesses, "where they resided
when they were at home," as Mr Moynham said.
Up and down hill and dale, we seemed in the darkness to be penetrating
miles into the country; until, at last, passing, as well as we could see
from the gloom, which was almost impenetrable, through a narrow glen
between steep peaks, we suddenly turned a corner of a projecting rock,
and found ourselves on an elevated plateau on the top of the mountains,
where a strange scene awaited us. A number of ruddy watch-fires were
burning with red and smoky light, and around these sat, reclined, or
moved about, in a variety of active employments, a number of dark forms,
most of which were robust Arnauts, clad in their national dress, which
in the distance is not unlike that seen among Highlandmen, consisting as
it does of a snowy white kilt, green velvet jacket, and bright-coloured
scarf wound round the waist. Here and there, the glare from the
firelight was reflected from the barrels of guns, rifles, and
matchlocks, which the owners were cleaning or examining; while, before
several of the fires cooking operations were going on. Kids, whole
sheep, and pieces of raw flesh, were being slowly broiled, hanging from
bits of stick stuck in the ground, or suspended by pieces of string
attached to the branches of the overhanging trees that encircled the
plateau. This added to the "effect" of the scene.
"Quite operatic, and better than old Drury," I heard Mr Moynham say;
but we were all too depressed and uncomfortable from our constrained
attitudes to feel inclined to appreciate the picturesque, the brigands
having taken us off the horses, and flung us down on the ground, having
this time bound even Bob and myself; indeed, they treated us with even
less attention than they would have bestowed on anything eatable,
judging by the care they evinced in their cuisine, although they did not
offer us anything either to eat or drink, much to Mr Moynham's great
chagrin especially, nor did they give us the slightest covering to
protect us from the night air when the waning watch-fires told us that
bedtime--save the mark--had arrived. I suppose they thought that it did
not much matter if we did catch cold, considering that we were going to
be shot within twenty-four hours!
Tired out with fatigue, we finally sank to rest in the same place where
we were first pitched down, not awaking till late the next morning, when
we found most of the brigands had departed--to look-out for other
"welcome guests" like ourselves, I suppose! Only three were left to
guard us, but they were quite enough, considering that we were tied up
fast, and couldn't move if we wished.
How slowly that day dragged out! We thought it would never end. They
gave us some hard coarse dry bread to eat and water to drink, nothing
else; and the hours dragged themselves slowly along, as if they would
never end.
Our hopes gradually sank, as the sun declined in the heavens, for we
watched the progress of the glowing orb with almost the devoted zeal of
the followers of Zoroaster.
At last, just as it was within half an hour of sunset as nearly as we
could calculate, we heard a tumult as of many voices in the ravine
leading to the plateau; and, presently, the man whom we had conceived to
be the leader of the brigands advanced towards us, in company with his
band, now largely reinforced by others. At a word from him our bonds
were untied, and we were assisted to our feet, on which we could not
stand firmly for some little time, on account of the want of circulation
of our blood during the long time we had been in such constrained
attitudes.
The guide who had previously acted the part of interpreter after
betraying us--although, by the way, he told us before he left us that he
belonged to the band, and thus, perhaps, had only acted honourably
according to his creed--then translated what the leader had to say.
Our ransom had been paid, and we were free to go down the mountains.
The horses, mules, and everything belonging to us would be restored, and
a trusty guide--the speaker, of course--would put us in the direct route
to Athens, but as near the city as possible; and, finally, the chief
begged that we would excuse the rough treatment to which we had been
subjected, as he had a great regard for us!
"It was all very well to dissemble his love," quoted Mr Moynham;
"but,--why did he kick us down-stairs?"
"The chief!--which chief, or thief?" said dad sternly. He did not feel
particularly pleased with the Arnauts or their leader. "I've had enough
of the scoundrels already, and the sooner I lose sight of them the
better! What do you mean by the chief?"
"He means me!" said a gorgeous individual, all green velvet jacket, and
gold braid, and red sash, with a cap set rakishly on the side of his
head, in the front of which glittered a diamond of surpassing
brilliancy.
We had noticed this individual before, but not especially, and he had
been rather hidden by the figure of the man we looked upon as the
leader: now he stepped forward, and we could see his face plainly, as we
recognised the voice.
Who do you think it was?
Why, Stephanos Pericles, the man whom we had saved from drowning, and
who had sent us those handsome presents!
"Why have we met with this treatment at your hands?" said papa, puzzled
at the Greek's behaviour.
"You have nothing to complain of," said Stephanos, with an air of
courteous nobility which exasperated the captain to that degree that I
saw him clenching and unclenching his fists, and dancing about, as Mr
Moynham said afterwards, "like a hen on a hot griddle."
"My dear sir, you have nothing really to complain of," said the Greek.
"You saved my life, I admit, and I think I politely expressed my
obligations at the time. In return I now present you with five lives,
independently of that of the dog, which, I am sorry to see, has been
hurt."
"But the ransom?" said dad.
"Oh, I'm sorry I had to insist on that," said Stephanos, placidly; "but
it is one of our rules to enforce such in all cases, and I'm sorry that
I could not let you off, although my friendship yearned to set you free
without it. You must really please excuse the treatment you have met
with. If I had known who honoured me with their company, I'm sure you
would have had no reason to be dissatisfied with my hospitality. The
_next_ time you favour me with your presence, my lord--"
"The next time you catch me here, or anywhere else on Greek ground,"
laughed my father in a hearty "Ho! ho!" in which all of us joined, "you
may cut me up into kabobs and cook and eat me, and welcome; for I know
I'll then deserve it!"
We got back safe aboard the _Moonshine_ all right, setting sail from the
Piraeus next day; but it was a good trick of the brigand chief, wasn't
it--though I can't say much for his gratitude after all, spite of those
magnificent presents, which there was little reason to wonder at his
offering us, considering the easy manner in which he got his money?
The cut in Rollo's neck healed soon, and he is now as right as ever he
was, excepting a slight scar which tells where the stiletto or dagger
went, and he wears still the collar of gold that Stephanos Pericles
presented him with. As for the rest of our party, all of us got home
safe with the _Moonshine_, which is now fitting out at Ryde for the
coming regatta, where I hope she'll come off as successfully in carrying
off prizes as "THE GREEK BANDIT."