Henty George Alfred
In Greek Waters: A Story of the Grecian War of Independence
“The word slavery is hateful to us, but it is not so many years since we were sending people out in hundreds to work as slaves in the plantations of Virginia. The word slavery in the East has not the same terror as it has with us, and I doubt if the feelings of a Chiot peasant girl on her way to be sold are not a good deal like those of a girl who goes up from a Scotch or English village to Edinburgh or London, to go into service in a grand family. She thinks she is going to better herself, to have fine clothes, and to live among fine people; and, as it turns out, maybe she is better off than she was before, maybe she is worse.”
“You are a most disagreeable man, Macfarlane,” Martyn said after a pause. “Here have we been thinking that we have been doing a good action, and you put us altogether out of conceit with ourselves.”
“We have been doing a good action,” the doctor said. “We have been acting according to our lights. To us it is an abominable thing that a Greek woman or child should be sold as a slave to the heathen Turk. I am only pointing out to you that from their point of view there is nothing so terrible in their lot, and that we have no reason to expect any very lively gratitude from them; and that, looking at the matter only from a material point of view, they are not likely to be benefited by the change. I know that, if I were a Greek woman, I would rather be a slave in the family of a rich Turk than working as a drudge, say, in the family of a Maltese shopkeeper, though, if I were a Scotch girl, I should certainly choose the other way.”
They all sat silent for a minute or two. The idea was a wholly new one to them, and they could not deny that, according to the point of view of these Chiot captives, it was a reasonable one. Mr. Beveridge was the first to speak.
“What you say has certainly given me a shock, doctor, but I cannot deny that there is some truth in it. Still, you know there is something beyond mere material advantages.”
“I do not deny it, sir, and, as I say, we, as Britons and Christians, feel that we are doing a good work. Still, we can hardly be surprised that these Chiots naturally view it differently. Their Christianity is, like that of all Eastern Christians, of a very debased form; and living so long among the Turks, they have no very great horror of Mohammedanism. You know, on the mainland, tens of thousands of the Albanians have become Mohammedans. We think that we are justified in inflicting what one cannot but see is, from the material point of view, a distinct injury to these people, because, as Christians, we feel it is for their moral advantage; but then, that is just the same feeling that caused the Spaniards to exterminate the natives of the West Indian Islands who declined to become Christians.”
“Oh, I say, doctor, that is too strong altogether,” Miller exclaimed indignantly.
“Well, prove it by argument,” the doctor replied calmly. “I am not saying that from our point of view we are not more than justified. I am simply explaining why these Chiots do not feel any extraordinary gratitude to us. We are benefiting them, if they did but know it. We are saving them, body and soul; but that is not the light in which they see it.”
“You are right, doctor,” Mr. Beveridge said. “And now you put it before us, I am really not surprised that these poor creatures do not feel any very lively gratitude. They are fond of ease and comfort, and have been accustomed to it, and to them the utter uncertainty of their life among strangers is not unreasonably more terrible than the prospects of an easy life as a favoured slave in a Turkish household. It is sad that it should be so; but it is human nature. Still, the consideration must not weigh with us in carrying out what we know to be a good work. We have saved in all more than three thousand souls from Turkish slavery, and can only trust that in the long run most of them will recognize the inestimable service we have rendered them.”
CHAPTER XVII
RESCUING THE GARRISON OF ATHENS
“I TELL you what it is, Mr. Beveridge,” the governor said when the latter went up to call as usual upon his arrival at Corfu, “I quite begin to dread the appearance of that smart schooner of yours; during the last five weeks you have added a thousand mouths to my anxieties. What we are to do with all these poor creatures I have not the slightest idea. We can’t go on feeding them for ever; and what with the voluntary fugitives and those brought over to us, there are at present some forty or fifty thousand strangers in the islands, and of these something like half are absolutely dependent on us for the means of living.”
“It is a very difficult problem,” Mr. Beveridge said. “Of course, when the war is over the great proportion of them will return to their homes in Greece; but the fugitives from the Turkish islands and mainland are in a different position. Doubtless, when peace is made, there will be some arrangement by which those families which have men among them can also return to their homes without being molested; but those consisting only of women and children could not do so. Some of the women and girls can find employment in Greek families, and I suppose the rest will finally become absorbed as servants in the towns on the Adriatic.”
“I see nothing else for it, Mr. Beveridge; unless you choose to continue your good work, and transport them in batches across the Atlantic. I believe there is a great dearth of women in Canada and the United States.”
“You will have to set up schools and teach them English first, sir,” Mr. Beveridge laughed, “or they would not be welcomed there. When they can all speak our language I will think over your suggestion.”
“Do you think that Greece ever will be free, Mr. Beveridge?”
“I think so. Certainly I think so. These terrible massacres on both sides seem to render it absolutely impossible that they should return to their former relations. The Turks have not yet made their great effort, and I believe that when they do they will reconquer Greece. But I do not think they will hold it. The hatred between the races is now so bitter that they can never live together in peace; and I believe that the Greeks will continue their resistance so long that Europe at last will come to their assistance, and insist upon a frontier line being drawn. This terrible affair of Chios, dreadful as it is, will tend to that. The Christian feeling of Europe will become more and more excited until, if the governments hold back, the people will force them forward, and England and France at least will, if necessary, intervene by force. I believe that they would do so now were it not for jealousy of Russia. It is Russia who fomented this revolution for her own purposes, and it is solely the fear that she will reap the whole benefit of their action that causes England and France to look on this struggle with folded arms.”
“I fancy you are right, and that that will be the end of it,” the governor said. “I need not say how earnestly I wish the time would come. I can assure you I have a very anxious time of it. What with providing for all these people, what with preventing breaches of neutrality by the Greeks, and what with the calumnies and complaints that the Greeks scatter broadcast against us, I can assure you that my task is not an enviable one.”
“I can quite imagine that. The Greeks make it very hard for their well-wishers to assist them; indeed, if they were bent upon bringing obloquy upon their name they could hardly act otherwise than they are doing. The one man they have hitherto produced who goes his way regardless of intrigue and faction, fighting bravely for the country, is Constantine Kanaris, who has destroyed two Turkish ships with his own hand. A hundred of such men as he is, and Greece would have achieved her independence without foreign assistance; and yet, even in his own ship, he is unable to maintain even a shadow of what we should consider discipline. He himself acknowledged as much to me at Psara.”
“I hear you took him off after he had burned the Turkish war-vessel.”
“Yes; we were lying off the port and saw it. I am glad we were not nearer, for it was a terrible business. It is a barbarous war altogether.”
“Then why do you mix yourself up in it, Mr. Beveridge?”
“My mother was a Greek, and I have always lived in Greek thought rather than in English. I desire not only the independence but the regeneration of the Greeks. They have lost all the virtues of their ancestors save their intelligence; but once free they will, I hope and trust, recover their lost virtues and become, if not a great people – which they can hardly do, their numbers being comparatively so few – at least a worthy one.”
“I hope they may. They certainly have enthusiastic friends. Only a week or two since, a young fellow named Hastings, a lieutenant of our navy, came out. He has a fortune of some seven or eight thousand pounds, which he intends to devote to buying and fitting out a ship for their service. There are scores of English and French officers kicking their heels at Corinth, vainly asking for employment. And I hear they are organizing a corps, composed entirely of foreign officers, who will fight as private soldiers without pay, simply for the purpose of endeavouring to shame the Greeks into a feeling of patriotism.
“Where are you thinking of sailing now? If you have no fixed plans, I should advise you to go round to Athens. They say the Turkish garrison is at the last extremity. I have had a message from the consulate there, asking me to send a British ship of war round to insist upon the conditions of surrender being observed; but unfortunately the insane rage for retrenchment at home has so diminished the strength of our fleet that we haven’t a single ship in these waters at a time like this. I hear that the French consul has also sent urgently asking for ships of war. At any rate, your influence might do something.”
“I fear not,” Mr. Beveridge said gravely. “However, my men and guns might have some weight, and at any rate I will go round at once and do my best. If possible, I am even more anxious to save Turks from massacre by Greeks, than Greeks from massacre by Turks.”
“I can understand that,” the governor said cordially. “Well, I wish you every good fortune, Mr. Beveridge; but I say honestly that I do not wish to see your saucy schooner again unless she comes in with empty decks. Give them a turn at Malta next time, my dear sir, and I shall feel really grateful towards you.”
Four days after leaving Corfu the schooner dropped anchor in the port of Athens. Learning from the first boat that put off to them that the capitulation of the Turks was to be signed on the following morning, Mr. Beveridge determined to land at once, in order that he might see as many of the leading officials as possible, and urge upon them the necessity of preventing any repetition of the breaches of faith which had brought such disgrace to the Greek name.
“I shall take Zaimes with me,” he said to Martyn, “and should I see any signs of an intention upon the part of the populace to commence a massacre of the Turks I will send him off instantly. In that case, Captain Martyn, you will at once land the whole of the crew fully armed, with the exception, say, of five men, and march them to the British consulate in Athens. You know where it is. Take a Greek flag with you, for two reasons; in the first place, if you were to go without it the Greeks would spread the report that the crew of an English ship of war had landed; and in the second place, it may quieten and appease the mob if they see that we are in the service of Greece.”
“Very well, sir, I will carry out your instructions. I don’t think that rascally mob will venture to interfere with us.”
“I hope not, Martyn; but at any rate we must risk that. Any other message I may have to send off to you I shall send by an ordinary messenger; but if you are wanted, I shall trust no one but Zaimes.”
Late in the evening a Greek came off with a letter. All would, Mr. Beveridge hoped, be well. The Turks had agreed to surrender their arms, and the Greeks had bound themselves to convey them to Asia Minor in neutral ships. By the terms of capitulation the Turks were to be allowed to retain one-half of their money and jewels, and one-half of their movable property.
“I have every hope that the treaty will be respected,” Mr. Beveridge wrote. “I am happy to say that the Bishop of Athens, who is a man of high character, and President of the Areopagus, has insisted upon all the civil and military authorities taking a most solemn oath to observe strictly the terms of capitulation, and so far to redeem the good faith of the nation, which has been so deeply stained by the violation of so many previous treaties.”
The next morning the Mussulmans marched out from the Acropolis. Out of the 1150 remaining only 180 were men capable of bearing arms, so stoutly and obstinately had they defended the place, yielding only when the last drop of water in the cisterns was exhausted. They were housed in some extensive buildings in the town. Three days passed quietly. Two ephors, who had been ordered by the Greek government to hasten the embarkation of the Turks, took no steps whatever to do so. On the morning of the fourth day, Horace, who had been twice on shore to see his father, saw a boat rowing off to the ship. He turned a glass upon it and exclaimed:
“There is Zaimes on board that boat, Captain Martyn. I am sure my father would not send him on board unless there is trouble in the town.”
Martyn did not wait for the boat to arrive, but instantly mustered and armed the crew, and the boats were in the water by the time Zaimes arrived alongside. He handed a note to Martyn; it contained only the words:
“Land instantly, they are murdering the Turks.”
With a hearty execration upon the Greeks, Martyn ordered the men to take their places in the boats, and gave his final orders to Tarleton, who was to remain in charge.
“Get all the guns loaded with ball, Mr. Tarleton. For aught I know we may have to fight our way down to the beach. Fire the first shot over their heads. If that does not frighten them, plump the others into them.”
The three boats pushed off, the doctor taking his place by the side of Horace, who was in command of one of them.
“Have you got your instruments, doctor?” Horace asked smiling.
“I have got these instruments,” Macfarlane said, tapping the butts of a heavy pair of pistols. “Just for once I am going as a combatant. I thought there was a limit to everything, but there really doesn’t seem to be any limit to the faithlessness of the Greeks. I should like very much to help to give them a little lesson as to the sanctity of an oath.”
The sailors marched in a compact body from the port to the town. They had been told the errand upon which they had come, and from the pace at which they marched, and the expression of angry determination on their faces, it was evident that they entered thoroughly into the business. They were met at the entrance to the town by Mr. Beveridge.
“It is of no use going to the British consulate,” he said; “there are no English officials there, the place is simply in charge of a Greek, who dare not, if he would, move in the matter. The Turks are taking refuge in the French, Austrian, and Dutch consulates. It is more than doubtful whether the flags will be respected. You had better place say eight men at each, with orders to defend the places till the last if the mob attacks them; while with the rest of the men you can endeavour to escort the fugitive Turks to the consulates. Don’t let the men use their arms till the last extremity, Martyn.”
“Very well, sir. Where will you be?”
“I will go to the French consulate and aid them there in pacifying the mob. My son had better go to one of the others. Harangue them from the windows, Horace; point out to them that they are disgracing Greece in the eyes of all Europe, and implore them not to bring Austria on their backs by insulting her flag. At the same time see that all the lower shutters are barred, and be ready to sally out with your men to bring in any fugitives who may approach.”
“Mr. Miller, do you take eight men to the Dutch consulate,” Martyn said, “and follow the instructions Mr. Beveridge has given to his son.”
“Zaimes shall go with you, Mr. Miller.”
“Thank you, Mr. Beveridge; if he will do the haranguing I will look after the fighting if there is any to be done.”
The three parties, each of eight men, at once started for the consulates. Martyn waited till they had gone, and then turned to the remainder. “Boatswain, you take ten men and go one way, I will go another way with the rest. You heard Mr. Beveridge’s instructions, that the men were not to use their arms unless absolutely attacked. At the same time, if you come upon any of the Greeks engaged in murdering women and children you will remember there are no orders against your using your hands, and that there are windows as well as doors by which a Greek can be made to leave a house.”
“Ay, ay, sir!” Tom Burdett replied with a grin; “we will be as gentle with them as possible.”
Martyn had provided several small Greek flags which had been fastened to boat-hooks, and each party, taking one of these, proceeded on its way. They had gone but a little distance when shrieks and cries were heard, and, bursting into the houses from which they proceeded, the sailors came upon Greeks engaged in the diabolical work of torturing women and children. With a cheer they fell upon them, striking right and left with their fists, and levelling the astonished Greeks to the ground. Then the Turks were placed safely in their midst, and with a few hearty kicks at the prostrate ruffians they marched out. The scene was repeated again and again; the punishment inflicted upon the Greeks being more and more severe each time.
When some twenty fugitives had been collected they were marched through a yelling rabble to one or other of the consulates, to which a large number of fugitives had made their way when the massacre began. Several times the leaders of both bands had to call upon their men to present arms, the mob falling back and flying the moment they did so. After a time the two bands joined, Martyn considering it imprudent to venture out among the enraged populace in smaller force. The aspect of the crowd became more and more threatening, but it still confined itself to execrations and curses, being overawed by the determined attitude of the men with their muskets, cutlasses, and pistols, and with the apparent fact that the sailors were only prevented from using their arms by the exertions of the two officers, for the doctor kept close by Martyn’s side. At two o’clock the boom of a cannon was heard from the port; again and again it sounded at regular intervals.
“That is a ship of war saluting,” Martyn said.
The crowd fell away rapidly, many of them hurrying down to the port, and Martyn, taking advantage of it, was able to bring in a good many more fugitives to the consulates, the sailors from within rushing out when they approached, and clearing the way through the crowd with the vigorous use of their elbows and sometimes of their fists.
“We shall have help up soon,” Mr. Beveridge said, the first time Martyn brought in a party of fugitives after the guns fired.
An hour later a strong party of French sailors and marines with loaded muskets and fixed bayonets marched up to the French consulate from two French vessels, a corvette and a schooner, which had come from Syra in response to the consul’s earnest appeals for assistance. They placed in their midst three hundred and twenty-five Turkish fugitives who had found refuge there, escorted them down to the port, and placed them on board their ships. On the way they were surrounded by a menacing crowd of Greek soldiers and by a great mob, yelling, shouting, and brandishing their arms; but their valour went no further, and the fugitives were taken off in safety. The sailors of the Misericordia were now divided between the Austrian and Dutch consulates, and their appearance at the windows with loaded muskets intimidated the mob from making an attack. During the night the bishop and some of the better class exerted themselves to the utmost in calming the passions of the mob; and they themselves in the morning accompanied the crew of the Misericordia, who, guarding the fugitives, were allowed to proceed down to the port and embark on board the schooner without molestation from the people. Some seven hundred and fifty persons were saved by the French and the crew of the schooner. Four hundred were massacred in cold blood by the Greeks.
The French vessels had sailed away during the night, and the question arose what was to be done with the rescued Turks. Of these there were some forty soldiers, ten or twelve Turks of superior rank, military and civil officials; the rest were women and children. Two or three of the Turks spoke Italian, and four or five of them Greek. Mr. Beveridge held a consultation with these, and it was finally agreed that they should be landed at the Isle of Tenedos close to the mouth of the Dardanelles, as from thence they would have no difficulty in making their way to Constantinople.
“If there are no ships of war in the port we will hoist the white flag and sail straight in; but if there are, we must land you in the boats somewhere on the island. We have been in action with your ships of war and would at once be recognized, and the white flag would not be respected.”
“We owe you our lives, sir, and the lives of all these women and children,” a bimbashi or major of the Turkish garrison, a fine soldierly-looking man, said earnestly; “for had it not been for you and your brave crew even the flags of the consulates would not have sufficed to protect us. Assuredly my countrymen would never fire at you when engaged in such a work of mercy.”
“They might not in cold blood,” Mr. Beveridge said; “but we have just been saving Chiot prisoners as cruelly treated, and for every Turk who has been massacred in Athens, well-nigh a hundred Chiots have been murdered. I do not defend them for breaking their pledged faith to you, but one cannot be surprised at their savage thirst for vengeance.”
Martyn had got up the anchor and set sail on the schooner directly the fugitives were on board, and as soon as he learned that Tenedos was their destination her course was laid north. Then came the work, to which they were now becoming accustomed, of stowing away the unfortunate passengers. The screened partition was allotted to the women and children of the officers and officials, most of whose husbands had fallen during the siege, and the rest of the women and children were stowed down on the main-deck, while the male passengers stayed on deck, where the women remained for the most part during the day. Those who had been rescued from the hands of the Greeks had been plundered of everything; but those who had at the first alarm fled to the consulates had carried with them jewels and money. The women of the upper class were all closely veiled, but the rest made but little attempt to conceal their faces, and all evinced the deepest gratitude to the crew of the schooner; murmuring their thanks whenever an officer or sailor passed near them, and trying to seize their hands and press them to their foreheads.
The fugitives of the upper class, both men and women, were more restrained, but there was no mistaking the expression with which their eyes followed their protectors. Many of the women and children were worn out with the sufferings they had sustained during the last days of the siege, and some of the soldiers were so weak as to be scarce able to stand. The doctor attended to many of the children, while the Greeks and the ship’s cook were kept busy all day in preparing nourishing soups. The next day they were off Tenedos. No Turkish ship of war was lying near the town. A boat was lowered, and Miller, accompanied by Horace as interpreter, took his place in her with one of the Turkish officers. A white flag was hoisted in her stern, and six men rowed her ashore.
Their movements had been watched, and a body of Turkish soldiers were drawn up at the landing-place with several officials. The Turkish officer mounted the steps and explained to the governor of the island, who was among those at the landing-stage, the purpose for which the Misericordia had arrived at the port. There was a rapid conversation as the officer, frequently interrupted by exclamations of indignation, and questions from the Turks, narrated what had taken place. Then the governor and his officers ran forward, seized Miller and Horace by the hand, patted them on the shoulder with the liveliest demonstrations of gratitude and friendship. The Turk who had come ashore with them translated to Horace, in Greek, the governor’s earnest request that the owner of the ship and his officers would come ashore to visit him.
“The governor says that he himself would at once come off to visit the ship and return his thanks, but that, as she is flying the Greek flag, he cannot do so, much as he desires it; but that if the flag were lowered, and a white flag substituted, he would come off instantly. He has heard of the fight between the Greek ship with an English crew and the boats of the Turkish fleet, and of the many craft she has taken and destroyed, always sparing the crews and sending them ashore, and he has great esteem for so brave an enemy; now he cannot view them but as friends after their noble rescue of so many of his countrymen and women and children.”
Horace in reply said that he would give the governor’s message to his father, and that the fugitives should at once be landed.
“Do you think that he really meant that he would come on board if we hoisted the white flag, Horace?”
“I think so, father. He and the officers with him certainly seemed thoroughly in earnest. What do you think, Martyn? There can be no objection to our lowering the Greek flag, I should think, while acting as a neutral.”
“I should think not,” Martyn said, “and I should not care a snap of the fingers if there was. The Greek flag is all well enough, Mr. Beveridge, when we see an armed Turk of superior size in sight, but at other times I don’t feel proud of it.”
“We will lower it down then, Martyn.”
The Greek flag was lowered from the peak and a white one run up. Then the work of debarkation commenced, the Turks insisting upon shaking hands with Mr. Beveridge and the officers, thanking them in the most fervent way, and calling down the blessing of Allah upon them; while the women, many of them weeping, threw themselves on their knees and poured out their thanks, some of them holding up their infants to gaze on the faces of those to whom they owed their lives. The sailors came in for their share of thanks, and were quite embarrassed by the warmth with which they were greeted. Just as the first batch left the ship, a large boat flying the Turkish flag was seen putting out from the shore, and in a few minutes the governor with seven or eight civil and military officials came on board.
They brought with them a merchant who spoke English to act as interpreter. Martyn drew up the whole of the crew who were not engaged in boat service as a guard of honour to receive them, while he, with Mr. Beveridge, met the governor as he mounted the gangway. The governor, who was a tall and dignified Turk, expressed to them his warmest thanks in the name of the Sultan for the rescue of so many of his subjects from the fury of the populace of Athens. Mr. Beveridge, through the interpreter, explained to the pasha that, although an Englishman he had Greek blood in his veins, and had therefore joined them in their attempt to achieve independence, and was prepared to fight on their side but that, as an Englishman, he revolted against the barbarity with which the war was carried on by both combatants; that his vessel was named the Misericordia, and that while he had saved a great number of Christian fugitives on the one side, he was equally ready and pleased at being able to render the same service to Mussulman fugitives on the other side.
“Your errand is a noble and merciful one,” the Turk said, “and must have the approval of Allah as well as of the God of the Christians. We have heard of your terrible vessel, how she destroyed a frigate off Cyprus, beat off the boats of our fleet at Chios, and played havoc among the shipping from Smyrna. We knew her when we saw her, for we had heard of her white sails and tall masts; but we had heard too that no prisoner was injured by you. I never thought to set foot on the deck of the ship that had become the dread of the traders of Smyrna and other ports, but I am glad to do so since those who sail her, although our enemies in battle, have proved themselves indeed our friends in the time of distress.”
When this had been translated, Mr. Beveridge invited the governor and his companions into the cabin, where coffee and chibouks were served; then they were conducted round the ship. The governor conversed for some little time with two or three of the principal Turks from Athens, and learned the full details of the surrender and the subsequent events as he watched the debarkation of the fugitives; and then, after obtaining a promise from Mr. Beveridge that he and his officers would come on shore at sunset to dine with him, he entered his boat and was rowed back.
At sunset Mr. Beveridge and all the officers, with the exception of Tarleton, who remained in charge of the ship, went ashore. They were received at the landing-place by a guard of honour of Turkish soldiers in charge of one of the principal officers of the governor, and were conducted to his house through a crowd of people cheering and shouting.
The governor received them at his door. The dinner was served in Turkish fashion, all sitting on cushions round a table raised about a foot from the floor. A band of music[Pg 307][Pg 308] played without, and a great number of dishes, of most of which Horace could only guess at the ingredients, were served; and after the meal, which was of great length, was concluded, slaves brought round ewers of water, in which all dipped their fingers, wiping them on embroidered towels. A variety of sweetmeats were then handed round, followed by coffee. Three or four interpreters had stood behind the guests, who were all placed between Turks, and thus conversation was rendered possible. At ten o’clock they took their leave with many cordial expressions on both sides, and were again escorted by a party of soldiers to their boats.
