CHAPTER XXXVI.THE FORLORN HOPE.
The night is dark,The cliff is high,No moon illumesThe cloudy sky;Below we markThe fearful gloomsWhich in their nightHide sombrely the way of flight.To slender ropeWe cling with dread,And hanging thereAs by a thread,With fearful hopeWe downward fare,Till on the strandIn safety for a time we land.
The night is dark,The cliff is high,No moon illumesThe cloudy sky;Below we markThe fearful gloomsWhich in their nightHide sombrely the way of flight.To slender ropeWe cling with dread,And hanging thereAs by a thread,With fearful hopeWe downward fare,Till on the strandIn safety for a time we land.
The night is dark,The cliff is high,No moon illumesThe cloudy sky;Below we markThe fearful gloomsWhich in their nightHide sombrely the way of flight.
The night is dark,
The cliff is high,
No moon illumes
The cloudy sky;
Below we mark
The fearful glooms
Which in their night
Hide sombrely the way of flight.
To slender ropeWe cling with dread,And hanging thereAs by a thread,With fearful hopeWe downward fare,Till on the strandIn safety for a time we land.
To slender rope
We cling with dread,
And hanging there
As by a thread,
With fearful hope
We downward fare,
Till on the strand
In safety for a time we land.
Fortunately for the success of the enterprise, the sky was cloudy, so that the moon, thickly veiled by vapors, was unable to betray the adventurers by her tell-tale light. A strong breeze was blowing seaward from the land and ruffling the surface of the black water to ragged caps of white, which promised anything but a pleasant journey to Crispin and his companion.
They were warmly clothed in thick garments of blue-dyed wool, consisting of tight-fitting jackets and loose trousers, tucked into high boots of untanned leather. In his belt Crispin carried a dagger and his revolver, while Gurt’s cutlass dangled by his side, and both men also wore those red fishermen’s caps common to the Ægean, with ample woollen capotes to protect them from the keen winds. Standing on the height of the lofty cliff, they could not see the beach for the profound gloom below, but to the left saw the camp ofthe enemy clearly defined in the fierce rays of the electric light. Everything there seemed to be as still as the grave, and the pirates were evidently sound asleep under canvas, for not a sound broke the stillness, save the whistle of the breeze and the sullen rolling of the waves on the sands below.
Maurice and the poet had brought up two coils of strong rope, each over a hundred feet in length; so, as the cliff measured but two hundred, there would be no difficulty about the ropes being too short. They tied these firmly together, then, making one end fast to a strong pine tree which grew some distance back from the verge, flung the other into the abyss below. The rope paid itself out rapidly, until, when only a few coils were left, it ceased running, which showed that it had touched bottom. Now the two adventurers prepared to descend, and shook hands with the Demarch and his nephew, both of whom were much affected. None of the four knew if they would meet again, for two were bound on a perilous voyage, and the others were beleaguered in a dangerous volcanic island by bloodthirsty enemies. If they reached the boat safely, and managed to push off into the open sea unseen by their enemies, they were to send up a rocket as a signal of success to the watchers on land. Gurt carried this useful article, and was the first to descend the slender rope, to which he clung like a spider to its thread, and dropped swiftly down until the thickening gloom hid him from their anxious eyes. After a time the rope slacked, and a gentle vibration stealing up it showed that Gurt had landed safely.
“Good-by, my dear lad,” said Justinian, as he embraced the brave poet. “You are sure you have everything?”
“My revolver, cartridges, cloak, a satchel filled with food, your letter to the Eparch. Yes, I think that is all. Gurt has the water-bottles and the rocket. Good-by, Maurice.”
“Good-by, old fellow,” replied Maurice, and then they grasped each other’s hand in token of farewell, with that stolid composure with which Englishmen in trying circumstances conceal their emotion. “Take care of yourself for the sake of Eunice.”
“Certainly I will, and for yours also. If all goes well, you will see the white wings of The Eunice off this coast in a few days. But don’t surrender the island before then.”
“Not much,” retorted Maurice grimly. “I’ll blow up all the rocks in the pass first, and if the enemy want to get in,they will have to fly over such a barrier. Good-by once more, my boy. Over you go!”
Crispin, even at this supreme moment of parting, could not restrain a merry laugh at his friend’s coolness, and, laying himself down on the brow of the cliff, grasped the rope, and prepared to descend. As soon as Gurt, below, felt from the quiver that his master was fairly on his way down, he pulled the rope taut with all his strength, so as to render the descent easier.
“Look out for the rocket,” cried Crispin, as he dropped slowly downward into the blackness; “and keep the light turned on the camp, so that we can see what those wretches are up to.”
“All right,” shouted Maurice, who, lying flat on his stomach, was peering over. “Good-by.”
A faint farewell floated up through the intense gloom, as Crispin, with his hands tightly grasping the rope, and his legs twisted round it, went sliding down like a spider on his self-spun thread. Thanks to Gurt, who was holding out the cord widely from the rugged face of the cliff, he found no difficulty in descending, and soon landed safely beside the sailor on the damp sand.
Shaking the rope vigorously as a sign to those on top that they were now onterra firma, they walked carefully forward in the darkness towards the land end of the breakwater. Gradually their eyes, now relieved from the dazzle of the electric light, became accustomed to the gloom, and they could see to some extent a good distance ahead. Stealing along silently, their boots made no sound in the dead sand, and they arrived without mischance at the rocky wall of the harbor. Against this several boats were floating, tied to iron rings welded into the masonry, but rejecting the first three or four, which were too cumbersome for two people to manage, they selected a small light caique, with masts, sail, and oars, which lay nearest to the sea.
Gurt pulled this in easily by the painter, and then bade Crispin get into it, so as to keep it off from the wall as it was towed along. As the sailor was the more powerful of the two, Crispin obeyed without hesitation, and, with the aid of an oar, kept the craft out from the masonry, while Gurt, with the rope over his shoulder and bent form, pulled it with some difficulty towards the entrance. All this time things had gone smoothly with them, for the electric light kept up a steady glare on the camp of their sleeping enemies,and they could see no movement to lead them to suspect that the pirates were aware of their daring attempt.
At the end of the breakwater they placed their provisions, water-bottles, and cloaks in the boat, and after making fast the boat to an iron ring, proceeded to let off the rocket in token of their success. Crispin placed it in position, applied the match, then hastily got into the boat with Gurt and pushed off to sea. Just as they were a few yards from the shore, the rocket flashed skyward with a sharp whizz, scattering trains of sparks in its ascent. Alarmed by the unexpected sound, the pirates rushed out of their tents to ascertain the cause, but the rocket, having expended its fire, had fallen back into the water, so they could see nothing to account for the explosion.
After rowing out a little way, Gurt shipped the oars, and with the assistance of Crispin, hoisted the sail, which bellied out with a groan to the wind and made them glide rapidly forward. Then the sailor took the helm. Crispin, wrapped in his cloak, laid himself down to sleep for a few hours, and the little craft sped away lightly over the white-crested waves into the profound darkness. When they were out some considerable distance, the electric light suddenly flashed out a long ray into the sea, in token of farewell, then reverted to its original position, and the boat with its two brave occupants was swallowed up in the night.
On the cliff those left behind waited and watched until the welcome rocket shot its long trail of golden fire through the darkness, then both simultaneously heaved a sigh of relief.
“Well, they are safe so far,” said the Demarch thankfully; “but, by Jupiter, Maurice, those rascals have heard the rocket go!”
“Oh, they’ve seen nothing,” replied his nephew indifferently, as the few men who had rushed out retired again to their tents; “the fire died out before they caught even a glimpse of it. I’m glad Crispin is safely away; his boat will be flying like a stormy petrel before this stiff breeze. Let us go down, uncle, and send them a farewell flash of the light.”
“But it might reveal the boat to those scamps,” said Justinian, as they rapidly descended the narrow staircase.
“Oh, they’ve all gone inside again; besides, Crispin has got too much of a start by this time. I’ll go and see Alexandros.”
Which he accordingly did, and the light, after flashing for a second on the flying boat, was again turned on the camp, after which Maurice and his uncle went to see how Dick and his dynamite mine were getting on. Without doubt these amateur sappers had been working hard, for the trench was dug, the dynamite cartridges placed therein, and the hole filled up. Wires attached to each cartridge ran underground through the palisade to the interior of the battery, and none of the enemy would have suspected that the whole of that broad space in front was one deadly mine, which, when exploded, would blow them to pieces by the dozen.
“There, sir,” said Dick, wiping his heated brow; “now when Miss Helena brings those broken bottles, we’ll smash ’em up on this ground between the mine and the palisade, so if any of those beggars escape being cut to pieces or blown to atoms it’ll be a miracle.”
“It’s splendid, Dick,” answered Justinian, clapping him on the shoulder. “And now, my lad, you had better go and have some sleep.”
“D’ye think it ’ull be safe, sir?”
“Quite safe! All those scamps are sound asleep, and will not attack before dawn. The barrier is built up as strongly as we can do it, your cannon are all right, and, what with the mine and the broken glass, I think they’ll find it pretty hard to get even as far as they did to-day.”
“Is Mr. Crispin all right, sir?”
“Yes; he got safely into the boat, sent up a rocket to tell us of his success, and by this time is on his way to Syra for help.”
“I saw the rocket, sir, so I guessed it ’ud be all right. D’ye think, sir, we’ll hold out till he brings the yacht here?”
“Of course we will,” said Maurice, who had joined the pair; “our defence here, even with our small numbers, is quite strong enough to stand one storming. If some of them get their feet cut to pieces by the glass, and others blown up sky-high by the mine, I wouldn’t be surprised if they gave up the attempt and sailed away.”
“Suppose they don’t, sir?” questioned Dick dubiously.
“Then, my Richard, I have a plan for closing up this pass.”
“How, sir?”
“You see those overhanging rocks up there? Well, as they are just over the entrance of the pass, to-morrow, so soon as we have beaten back those wretches, we’ll go upand bore holes along the narrowest part for dynamite cartridges. Then we’ll attach wires as in the mine, and if we find that we can’t stand against a second assault, all we have to do is to inveigle our friends under those rocks, explode the charge, and then, my Richard—oh, what a time they will have!”
“But that ’ull shut us up in the island, sir.”
“Well, what of that? It’s a pleasant place to dwell in. But you needn’t be afraid, Dick; it’s easier to get out than get in, and when the yacht arrives we’ll not have much difficulty in getting on board.”
“Leave Melnos, sir!”
“No!” said Justinian angrily. “I’ve no doubt, if we are forced to fill up the pass, those scoundrels will leave us. If they don’t, the arrival of the yacht with fresh troops will drive them away. Then, we’ll go to work to open up both the pass and tunnel.”
“Not enough men, Mr. Justinian.”
“Ah, my poor Melnosians! Well, we’ll have to get more settlers, that’s all. The difficulty is not in getting men and women, but in getting pure-blooded Greeks.”
Dick did not understand this latter remark, so wisely left it unanswered, and, touching his cap, went off with his messmates to snatch a few hours’ sleep before the grand assault which all anticipated would take place at dawn. Justinian and his nephew made an inspection of all the defences, saw that the sentries were posted, and then went to talk to Alexandros about the small battery he was rigging up for the purpose of exploding the mine when necessary.
“There will be no difficulty about this affair, Alexandros?”
“No, Kyrion. I have attached the wires leading to the cartridges to this battery, and will have it under my charge to-morrow behind this rock, which will protect me from the fire of the enemy. You wave your hand as a signal, and I touch this button, when the mine will explode in a second.”
“Excellent!” said Justinian, with great satisfaction. “And if we wanted to close up the pass by bringing down those rocks above you?”
“In the same way, Kyrion. Make holes above for your cartridges and attach wires of any length. With my battery at one end of those wires, and the dynamite at the other, I could blow up the whole of this gorge from the Acropolis.”
“You can trust your man in charge of the engine?”
“Yes, Kyrion. That is all he has to do, for the dynamo works by itself without my being present.”
“All seems going smoothly,” said the Demarch to Maurice, as they turned away. “That mine ought to do considerable damage.”
“I’m certain it will. But, uncle, you must be quite worn out for want of rest; so you go to sleep, and I will watch.”
“I will sleep later on; but meanwhile I am going up to the Acropolis to tell Helena that Crispin and Gurt have left the island safely. She will be very anxious.”
“Give her a kiss for me,” cried Maurice, as his uncle walked away up the pass.
“I am afraid it will be horribly damaged on the transit,” replied the Demarch, smiling. “Good-by, my lad. Keep a sharp look-out, and if anything goes wrong, send Temistocles to the Acropolis. I will be back in an hour.”
He went away slowly; for, in spite of his iron spirit and determination to keep up, the incessant fatigue was beginning to tell on his frame. At seventy-five, one cannot play with a constitution; and hardened as was the body of Justinian by temperate living and constant exercise, he yet felt that he was not the man he was. Another thing which worried him mentally, and thus acted on him physically, was the thought of the volcano; for, in spite of the way in which he reassured Crispin, he felt by no means easy in his mind regarding the safety of the island. Not until he was absolutely forced to, would he close up the pass, and thus shut himself up in a crater apparently on the verge of eruption. True, if the worst came, he could escape with his people over the cliff, but such a method would take some time; and, with the volcano spouting fire, there would be but a small chance of any one escaping alive. Full of these thoughts, he walked leisurely along, pondering over matters volcanic and matters military; for with the treacherous crater on one side, and the cruel enemy on the other, he could not but see that matters were approaching a crisis.
Even if the volcano remained quiescent, and the enemy were beaten back, still things were in anything but a satisfactory position; for he had lost many of his men, and he knew how difficult it would be to supply their places with Greeks of the old Hellenic stock. Those who were dead had been trained up under his eye; they knew his aims and aspirations, and were already developing greatly: but now all that was at an end; they had been cut off by death, andeven if he got new blood, it would mean that the whole task of training up a new generation would have to begin all over again. Justinian was a man of great self-control, but when he thought of all he had lost, in the darkness of night he gave free vent to his emotion, and wept bitterly at the downfall of his hopes. Still all was not yet lost, for the island still remained, and many of the old inhabitants; so he dried his eyes when he left the gorge, and determined, notwithstanding his bad fortune, still to bear up bravely in his efforts to reconstruct the old Hellenic civilization.
As he neared the Acropolis, he was astonished to see Helena, attended by Zoe, come hastily along the road, with a face expressive of great fear.
“What is the matter?” he asked hurriedly, as she fell into his arms. “Are you ill?—is the”—
“The lake! the lake, father!”
A terrible fear seized Justinian’s heart, but he nevertheless controlled his feelings and spoke calmly.
“What do you mean, Helena?”
“The lake! it is dried up.”
In the dark Justinian could not see the lake at the bottom of the valley, but he guessed what had happened. The lake’s bottom, shattered by the subterranean convulsions, had been unable to hold the water in its cup, and the whole body had been drained off into the bowels of the earth. This, then, was the third warning of Hephaistos, and a very terrible one it was, for if the crust of the crater was so convulsed, the next thing that would happen would be an outburst of fire.
Justinian foresaw all this in a moment, but, without saying a word, led his terrified daughter back to the Acropolis, where they sat down on the steps. The moon, lately obscured by cirrus-shaped clouds, now burst out in full splendor through the thin woof, and the Demarch with a pang saw that his beautiful valley was bereft of its gleaming silver eye. Where the calm expanse of water had been was now an ugly black gulf of rugged rock, and Justinian half expected to see fire burst fiercely from those black depths.
“It is nothing, it is nothing, my child,” he said, with a confidence he was far from feeling; “the earthquake has shattered the lake, and of course the water has drained off. Silly child, of what are you afraid?”
“I dread lest the crater should burst into fire.”
“There is no sign of that; we would have had warnings long ago.”
“But, father, the earthquake! the lake!”
“Those mean nothing. Look how frequent are earthquakes at Santorin, yet people continue to live there. As to the lake, as soon as this war is over, I will stop up the cracks at the bottom, and it will soon be filled again. Are the women afraid?”
“Some of them; still they are all sleeping down below with the children, so I don’t think they attach much importance to the disappearance of the lake.”
“And are you less brave than these poor things? Helena, I thought you were braver.”
“I told Miss Helena there was no danger,” said Zoe in English, with her pretty foreign accent.
“There, you see, Helena! Zoe is not afraid.”
“Oh, I am better now you are with me,” said Helena, smiling through her tears; “but it is so lonely here with no one but Zoe and that man who drives the engine.”
“Where are the servants?”
“I sent them down to look after the wounded who are in the village. But, papa—Maurice?”
“He is all right, and sends you this kiss—there!”
“Dear Maurice, he never forgets me!—and Crispin?”
“Has safely left the island with Gurt, so, you see, help will soon arrive. You must be brave, Helena; things are not so bad as you think.”
“I am glad to hear you say so, father.”
“I do say so. You have not spoken of this volcano business to any one—and you, Zoe?”
“No, no!” cried both the girls in chorus; “not a word.”
“That is right; I do not wish any one to be frightened unnecessarily, and you will think of neither war nor volcanoes in a few days. But come, Helena, give me something to eat.”
“Will you stay here, father?” asked the girl, as she led the way into the Acropolis.
“No, I am a soldier, and must live as the other soldiers. Let me have a meal here, and then you can go to bed, while I return to the front.”
“Can I come down to-morrow?”
“No, you have acted the heroine quite enough. There will be some tough work to-morrow, and I don’t want to risk losing you, my treasure.”
“I may lose Maurice.”
“Don’t think of such a thing. He is a true Roylands, andbears a charmed life; something to do with that amber heart, I suppose.”
“Did Maurice tell you, father?”
“No; some magical nonsense, I suppose. Well, well, come and give your poor father something to eat, for, war or no war, I must have supper.”