Chapter 15

"The _Muscadine_ of Bristol," he cried with all the power of his lungs, "from Beyrout to Smyrna with assorted cargo."

"Any news from the Levant?" was the next query from the ship-of-war. "Stop, I'll send a boat aboard."

This, however, was the last thing which the corsair desired, and he impressed some whispered instructions rapidly on Mr Tompkins, with the assistance again of the pistol barrel; and that worthy spoke equally rapidly, to prevent the other vessel from lowering a boat, which they were on the point of doing, as they could hear the men piped away by the boatswain's call for the purpose.

"Fever very bad at Beyrout," sang out the first mate, again, inspired by his tutor. "Had to leave half crew in hospital! Short-handed! Can you lend us a few men? Who shall we report as having met us?"

This answer at once arrested the intention of the commander of the despatch vessel, and prevented his sending a boat to them--as the corsair had surmised it would, from the fear of his bluejackets catching the infection, Syrian fevers being as much dreaded in the Mediterranean as the plague--for the reply shouted back was an apology for non-communication or help.

"Sorry for you, but cannot spare any men! You'll have to go into quarantine at Smyrna. Report _H.M.S. Batrachia_, from the Dardanelles to Malta."

And then, in obedience to the orders of the officer on the bridge, the despatch vessel circled round again on her way; and putting on full steam was soon lost to sight in a cloud of black smoke far-away to leeward.

To the captain and two lads below it was the keenest agony to hear the welcome hail of the English steamer followed by the mate's prevaricating reply, when they were certain that but one single word as to the real truth of the case would have summoned their countrymen to their rescue, and ensured the punishment of their lawless captors.

Of course they knew that Mr Tompkins had acted under intimidation, having been compelled to give the answers he did and prevented from calling for assistance; but both Tom and Charley would have died rather than have sacrificed the chance of their comrades' escape through any morbid fear as to their own personal safety.

They could not speak to each other, being gagged, and having a couple of assassin--looking scoundrels mounting guard over them in addition, as they lay where they were thrown down on the floor of the main cabin; but their eyes said, as plainly as eyes could speak, the thoughts that were uppermost in the mind of each--a feeling of disappointment at the hope of a rescue being so rudely dispelled when it looked so imminent, and a sense of disgust at the disgraceful cowardice of the mate.

It may seem strange that the corsair, who had spared the lives of the captain and the remainder of the crew of the _Muscadine_, and appeared really on such jovial terms with his prisoners up to the moment of his going below with Captain Harding to look at the ship's papers, should all at once change his demeanour and come out in his true colours; but, the matter is easy enough of explanation.

The corsair had been led to think that the merchant ship was freighted with a valuable cargo of silk and tobacco, the bulk of which he could have readily transferred to the felucca, as they were handy of shipment; consequently, when he found out that the vessel was only half-loaded with wine and fruit, which would require considerable storage room, and be then almost valueless in the only markets he could command, his rage knew no bounds. Added to this, Captain Harding, acting under a sense of duty to his owners, had concealed the fact of his possessing a considerable sum of money on board in drafts on bankers at Smyrna; while the pirate chief, supposing that he did have money, looked to find it in specie, and was correspondingly disappointed a second time. And thus it was that he was sorry at having spared the lives of the Englishmen after the fray had occurred; although he regretted that he had planned the capture of the ship at all, and placed himself and his companions in peril for a prize that was uncommonly like the king of Siam's present of a white elephant to one he meant to ruin; for it was useless to him, and he could not destroy the vessel or abandon it where she was, in the regular waterway of communication between the cities of the East, for fear of her being discovered, and he and his band of desperadoes pursued before they had ensured their safety by flight. He wished now to get rid of the ship, and secure whatever of her cargo he could carry away-- for his men must have some booty to repay their trouble and risk; but he must seek some out-of-the-way spot first, where he might unload her, and then, as he told his prisoners, burn her--and them, too, as far as he cared--to destroy all traces of his handiwork and the possibility of detection. Had he not thought it worth his while, he would certainly never have attacked the vessel.

To tell the truth, the corsair was in a quandary; so, when the smoke of the man-of-war steamer had melted into the air, he summoned Captain Harding and the rest on deck again, and having their gags removed, interrogated them once more.

"You say, captain," said he, knitting his brows and looking the skipper straight in the eyes, to see whether he was telling the truth, "that you have no money, beyond the few piastres and two or three English sovereigns I saw in your desk in the after cabin?"

The honest seaman could not tell a lie even to an enemy and a robber as this man was--at least, not unblushingly; so, unlike his usual way, he could not face his questioner, but gazed down on the planking of the deck as he spoke.

"No--that is, yes," replied the captain hesitatingly: it was very different to his round, bluff way of bringing out his sentences with an honest straightforwardness.

"You had better be careful," said the other in a threatening manner. "It is strange that you should be bound to Smyrna for more cargo, and not have the wherewithal to purchase it with! Have you got any more money or not? Reflect, it is the last time I shall ask you the question."

Mr Tompkins stood by unbound, while his fellow-prisoners had their hands bound behind their backs, and their legs likewise tied. He thought it a mark of the higher consideration in which he was held, whereas the corsair considered he wasn't worth the trouble of binding, being one who would not have the pluck to help himself or his fellows. Unbound he was, however; and, anxious to ingratiate himself further with those in power, the mate up and spoke, heedless of Captain Harding's angry exclamation to hold his tongue, and the boys' cries of "Shame!"

"The captain forgets," Mr Tompkins said, addressing himself to the corsair. "He might not have hard cash, but he has a draft, I know, on a firm at Smyrna."

"Oh-ho!" exclaimed the pirate chief, a gleam of triumphant satisfaction passing over his face for an instant, and then vanishing as he again confronted the captain sternly.

"I thought an Englishman's word was his bond through the world," he said in a scornful tone, which made the captain redden as his conscience accused him of having told an untruth, or at all events, of having been guilty of an evasion.

"It wasn't my money," he said, as if to extenuate his previous denial.

"Then you have got a draft, such as this fellow speaks of?" continued the corsair, pointing contemptuously with his foot at the mate, with a kick.

"Yes," said the captain.

"Where is it?"

"In a note-book in the pocket of that coat of mine you've got on," said Captain Harding, with a gesture at the borrowed monkey-jacket which the other still wore.

"Oh, thanks! Then it is quite handy," said the corsair, clapping his hand in the breast-pocket of the appropriated garment, and producing a thick Russian leather wallet, which he proceeded to open with nervous hands.

"Respect my private papers," said the captain, as the other fumbled amidst a mass of memoranda and other documents. "There is only one draft there, and nothing else valuable, I pledge you my word."

"Honour?" asked the other.

"On my honour there is not," replied Captain Harding with dignity. "I never said that when you asked me about money in the cabin; so, you may believe me."

"I do believe you, captain," said the pirate chief with a light laugh, which might have been caused by the sight of a banker's draft which he unfolded at the moment, as much as by his words. "I give you the credit of not being able to tell a lie with any spirit, as you tried to do just now. Here are your papers; this will be enough for me." And he then read out the draft, which ran as follows:--

"From Bracegirdle, Pollyblank, and Company, Ship and Insurance Agents, Birchin Lane, London, to Miguel, Mavrocordato, and Thomasson, Freres, Fruit Merchants and General Shippers, Smyrna, 17th March, 1881. At three days' sight pay to John Harding, master of the ship _Muscadine_, or order, the sum of one thousand five hundred and seventy-five pounds sterling. Value received.

"1575 pounds, 0 shillings 0 pence. Bracegirdle, Pollyblank and Co."

"This is a very nice little sum of money," said the corsair complacently, restored to all his previous good humour; "a very nice little sum of money!"

"Wait till you get it," said Captain Harding gruffly, by no means pleased at the other's satisfaction.

"Oh, I shall get it easily enough," replied the corsair airily. "You've only to put your signature to it, and the thing's done."

"When I sign it," said the captain, pointedly.

"Ah! my dear captain, there will be no bother about that, when I ask you politely," retorted the pirate chief, with a significant look, which did not have the slightest effect on the brave sailor--indeed it only made him smile.

"We will see," was all he said in reply, but his determined expression of face added the rest.

"I can wait," answered the other; "so we will not argue the point, for at present I have got more pressing matters to attend to."

A signal was then made to the felucca, which had kept the ship in sight all the while, although close in to the land, and apparently proceeding on a coasting-voyage, and having nothing to do with the other vessel; and then, the course of the _Muscadine_ was altered and she bore up for the Cyclades.

"I have no further dread of meeting any of your floating bull dogs," said the pirate chief affably, as if in explanation of his motives. "And none of the French cruisers are up here now; they are all too busy in Tunisian waters. So, I may as well shift your cargo, captain, at the back of one of the little islands we are coming to, where we can lie by unseen without any interference."

During the whole of that day, the ship was steered amongst a parcel of shoals, which made poor Captain Harding tremble for her safety, albeit she was taken out of his control; and, towards nightfall, she was brought to anchor in sixteen fathoms, under the lea of a rocky cliff that projected up into a peak on one of the tiny islets by which they were encircled. Here, the felucca having followed them, the pick of her cargo was removed to the smaller craft--a few bales of silk, some tobacco, and a good portion of wine; the cases of dried fruit being left untouched, as taking them to any of the Greek ports with the idea of finding a market for their contents, as the corsair well knew, would have been like carrying coals to Newcastle.

Then, the Englishmen, who had been well treated all the day in the matter of food and drink--some books even were brought up by the orders of the leader from the cabin, for them to read, his courtesy and attention were so great--were removed to the felucca, being followed by the Greek sailors; Captain Harding and the others subsequently witnessing the melancholy sight of the ill-fated _Muscadine_ sinking at her anchors, for she had been scuttled in several places after the selected goods had been transferred to the pirate's own vessel, which remained on the spot till the other disappeared beneath the waves.

"I should have liked to have burnt her, as I said I would do," observed the corsair, as the _Muscadine_ went down bows foremost, "all standing," with a graceful plunge; "but I was afraid of attracting notice. However, she is safe now at the bottom, at all events; and sunken ships, like dead men, tell no tales!"

Captain Harding made no reply.

His heart was too full at seeing his ship, which he regarded almost like a living thing, so recklessly destroyed before his eyes; it was the ship which he had first gone to sea in as a boy, and which it had been the ambition of his life to command. It was too much, and turning his head away as the tips of her spars sank from view, he wiped away a tear from his eye with the back of his horny hand.

Nothing that the pirates had done hitherto affected him like this.

STORY TWO, CHAPTER EIGHT.

AMONGST THE BRIGANDS.

As soon as the _Muscadine_ had succumbed to her ill fate so tragically, the felucca made sail at once from the place, steering north, as well as Captain Harding could make out; for neither he nor the boys were allowed to look at the compass, and they none of them spoke to Tompkins since his betrayal of the captain's trust, although he could probably have told them, for he "appeared to be hail fellow well met" with his captors, as Charley said.

The night passed, and again another day and night, without anything noteworthy happening, the swift craft sailing at racehorse speed, and always in the same direction, to the best of their belief, as if towards some fixed destination; but the corsair did not enlighten them, and, indeed, did not address them during the interval.

Towards the evening of the second day on which they were on board her, the felucca drew near land, from which she held off and on until the shades of night covered her movements, when she approached close to the shore, and a boat was lowered over her side.

The pirate chief then, for the first time since the _Muscadine_ disappeared under the waters of the Aegean Sea, addressed Captain Harding and his companions, who had found the time of their captivity hang wearily on their hands, although they were virtually free to walk about on board their prison-house, with the exception of speaking to any of the crew or looking at the compass, both of which were interdicted, with significant threats whenever they tried to evade the prohibition.

"Now, captain," said the corsair, with an oily smile, which sat worse upon his countenance than a frown, "I will thank you to sign this order," producing the skipper's bank-draft, and a pen and ink all ready for the purpose. "Just sign it, and I will put you and your brother Englishmen ashore at once."

"Where are we?" asked the captain.

"On the coast of Greece," was the answer, "not far from Salonica, where I am going with the felucca to dispose of my cargo," with a naive candour which made Charley Onslow laugh outright.

"His cargo, indeed," he whispered to Tom. "You have often talked of my Irish impudence, but, bedad, that beats Banagher."

"Be quiet," replied Tom; "you'll only get us into a row."

But the leader of the pirates took no heed of the interruption; he was too busy about the money order.

"Come, sign," he repeated to the captain.

"And suppose I don't?" said he.

"Then you and your companions will be imprisoned in the mountains until you do, up to a certain period--until I have time to complete my business at Salonica, that is--and if, on my return from thence, you still continue obdurate, why, then all of you had better say your prayers--" completing his sentence with an emphatic gesture which could not be misunderstood.

The captain was obstinate. He thought that now they were near a well-known port, and in comparatively civilised regions, the pirate chief would not dare to carry out his threat, and after a time, if he only held out, would be satisfied with the share of booty he had already secured, particularly, as from some remarks which he casually let fall when the cargo was being shifted, it had turned out to be more valuable than he had anticipated.

Once he had made up his mind, nothing would make the captain budge an inch from the position he had taken up. He could be as obstinate as a mule when he liked.

"I refuse to sign the draft, and you may whistle for the money," he said doggedly.

"You better had," urged the other. "I only advise you for your own good. Those brigand friends of mine in the mountains, who will be your jailers, are a rough lot, and not to be trifled with."

"I will see you hanged first!" shouted out the captain, out of all patience, and he then closed his lips together tightly to show that he did not intend saying another word.

"Absit omen," quoted the corsair; "hanging is a ticklish subject. Polydori," turning to one of the Greeks, "take charge of these Englishmen, with ten others of your best men. Your lives will answer for theirs until you give them into Mocatto's keeping. You know the rendezvous, where to meet him and his band. Captain, and young gentlemen, adieu! May you be of a more practical mind when I see you again, which will not be long."

And, with these words, the corsair took leave of the captives, who, after being gagged again, and having their hands all tied behind them-- including Tompkins this time, much to the boys' satisfaction--were put into the boat that lay alongside, and rowed ashore, under a strong guard, with the Greek Polydori at their head.

It was a change of scene from their cooped-up quarters on board the felucca; but after they had had a toilsome march, uphill all the way, through mountainous defiles and along the roughest of paths, they wished themselves back again in their floating prison.

Arrived at a cross-turning surrounded by a thicket of stunted shrubs, the leader of the guard that accompanied them cried a halt, uttering a shrill and prolonged whistle, which was presently repeated from the hills above.

An approaching footstep was then heard, and a challenge, to which Polydori replied with some password, after which there was a long colloquy between him and the stranger.

They were then ordered to resume their march, although they had been walking two hours since they had quitted the shore, Polydori and the stranger leading the column, with the prisoners in the centre and the other guards in the front and rear. In this manner they proceeded until the unfortunate captives were ready to drop with fatigue, while their board ship shoes were worn into shreds by the stones and prickles of the path they had traversed, and their feet all bleeding and torn.

"I can't go a step farther!" exclaimed Tom, dropping in his footsteps. "Good-bye all."

But the guards prodded him with their knives, and made him rise again. So he tottered along, until the column, marching in a sort of military order, and passing numerous sentinels, who challenged the leaders, and stopped them till they gave the countersign, entered suddenly on a large encampment of men, squatting on the ground amidst a circle of fires. There were no tents nor waggons to bear out the illusion, but otherwise the scene resembled a bivouac of some expeditionary force.

The brigands, as the English readily guessed these gentry to be, were some forty or more in number, and were principally Greeks and Albanians, clad in their picturesque dress--a short sleeveless jacket, coarse gaiters and shoes, a kilt of some rough texture, and a fez; while across their chests they carried a cartridge belt, and around their waist a sash, in which were stuck pistols and knives, not forgetting the long yataghan, that hung to their sides in the same fashion as they had noticed with the crew of the pirate felucca.

Amongst this band of miscreants, who thought less of murder than they did of killing a fowl, the survivors of the _Muscadine_ suffered a species of moral torture for more than a week, being moved from place to place meanwhile, generally by night, as the brigands' encampment was shifted to evade the pursuit of the Turkish troops, who were wonderfully active in hunting the mountain gentry about--after Mr Suter's and Colonel Synge's release!

During this time, they heard nothing of the pirate chief, although the leader of the brigands--a gigantic Albanian named Mocatto--was continually engaged in pleasantly putting before Captain Harding what he and his countrymen might expect should the bank-draft remain unsigned after the corsair's return--of course acting under that worthy's instructions; pointing the moral of his remarks by practising the most unheard-of cruelties on such captives as the brigands brought in day by day, who were unable or unwilling to send to their friends to ransom them.

At last, one day, after witnessing the horrible exhibition of a poor Turk having his clothing saturated with paraffine oil, and then set fire to, the captain, urged more by considerations for the safety of Tom and Charley and his men, than for his own, gave in, and told Mocatto that he would sign the draft.

"That is good," said the brigand. "Demetri comes to-night, and you can sign it in the presence of the chief. If you do not, you know the consequences."

However, as it turned out, Captain Harding was fortunately able to keep his word to the corsair, when he said "he would see him hanged first" before he should attach his name to the money order.

That very same afternoon, a whole battalion of Turkish troops, sent out from Salonica, surrounded one of the mountains in which the brigands' stronghold was situated; and after desperate fighting, in which many men were killed on either side, compelled the surrender of Mocatto's band.

Demetri, the pirate chief, who was on his way, like Shylock, for his bond or pound of flesh from the captain, got captured amongst other prisoners, and was subsequently hanged along with them on the mountain side, as a warning to all dishonest folk.

Tom and Charley, and the captain, escaped scot free,--through a miracle almost, the brigands being attacked so suddenly that they were unable to murder their captives, as they invariably do when assailed by the troops--and so did the sailors along with them; all but Tompkins, who, as if in punishment for his treachery and cowardice, got shot by a passing bullet.

"It is a long lane that has no turning," as the proverb runs; and, to paraphrase it, it must be a long story which has no ending: so there must be an end to this.

The _Muscadine_ could not be raised again. But Captain Harding got another ship, of which Tom Aldridge was appointed second officer, and Charley Onslow third, on probation; and the three, captain and youngsters, have had a voyage or two already. But they have not forgotten, nor are they likely to forget, their memorable adventures in their passage from Beyrout, nor Mohammed's old friend, "The Corsair of Chios."

STORY THREE, CHAPTER ONE.

DAVID AND JONATHAN; OR, LOST AT SEA.

CAUGHT IN A SQUALL.

"Dave!"

"Hullo!"

"What's that big black thing out there, tumbling about in the sea astern; is it a whale?"