ONE day, after cruising along the coast inside the island of Eub?a or Negropont, the Misericordia entered the Gulf of Zeitouni, the Sinus Maliacus of the ancients. When they were nearly at the head of the gulf Horace asked Captain Martyn to let him go ashore to a little village at the water’s edge to get some vegetables and fruit, of which the supply had run out.  
“Just as you like, Horace. A boat-load of green stuff of some sort or other would be very welcome, and if you can pick up half a dozen kids so much the better.”
 
“I am thinking I will go with you, Horace,” Macfarlane said; “it does a man good to stretch his legs ashore once in a way.”
 
The gig was at once lowered, and on Horace and the doctor taking their seats in the stern, four sailors rowed them ashore.
 
“I sha’n’t take the trouble to anchor,” Martyn said as they left the ship. “I expect you will be back in an hour, and I shall keep her standing off and on till I see you put out.”
 
Leaving two of the men in charge of the boat, Horace told the other two to take some of the baskets they had brought ashore and follow him. Some women looked out timidly at the doors of the houses, but no men were to be seen about.
 
“We are friends,” Horace said; “do you not see we are flying the Greek flag? Where are all the men?”
 
“They have gone away with Vriones. He came with an armed band and said that every man must go with him to fight.”
 
“Who have they gone to fight?”
 
“Ah! that we don’t know. He talked about fighting the Turks, but we think it more likely that he is going to fight Rhangos. They are at war with each other. Oh, these are bad times! What with the war with the Turks, and the war of one captain with another, and what with bands of klephts who plunder everyone, there is no peace nor quiet. They say Rhangos is going to join the Turks, as many other klepht leaders have done. To us it makes little difference who are masters, so that we know who they are. In the time of the Turks we had peace; we had to pay taxes, but we knew what they were. Now everybody wants taxes. These are evil days.”
 
“We want some vegetables and some fruit,” Horace said. “We do not wish to rob you, and are ready to pay a fair price for everything.”
 
“Those we can sell you,” the woman said, “it is nearly all we have left. There are vegetables everywhere, and they are not worth stealing.”
 
The news soon spread, and the women and children of the village were soon engaged in gathering and tying up vegetables. The sailors made several trips backwards and forwards to the boats with laden baskets, while the doctor and Horace, seated upon a low wall, watched the women at work in the gardens, and paid the sum agreed upon for each basketful that was carried off. Suddenly, without the slightest warning, there was a rush of men behind them, and before they could draw their pistols they were seized, thrown down, and bound.
 
“What is the meaning of this?” Horace asked indignantly. “We are officers of that ship there, which is in the service of Greece. As you are Greeks, what do you mean by molesting us?”
 
No reply was given. There was a sudden outburst of firing down by the boat, and the screams of women rose in the air. The men who had bound them moved away at the order of an officer, leaving two with muskets standing over the prisoners.
 
“This is a nice business, doctor; I expect we have fallen into the hands of Rhangos, the fellow the women were speaking about, and the men of this village have gone out with some other scoundrel to fight. I suppose he had spies about, and came down to plunder the place in their absence. She said she heard Rhangos was going to join the Turks; his capturing us certainly looks as if at present he was hostile to the Greeks. If he takes us away and hands us over to the Turks it is a bad look-out.”
 
“He will have to be quick about it,” the doctor said, “they are still firing occasional shots down by the water. That looks as if the boat has got away, and you may be sure Martyn won’t be long before he sends as many men as he can spare ashore to find us. There, do you hear?” and as he spoke there was the deep boom of a gun, followed by the rush of a shot overhead.
 
Orders were shouted angrily directly afterwards. Some men ran up, cut the cords that bound the prisoners’ legs, and then, seizing them by the arms, hurried them away, threatening them with instant death if they did not keep up with them. As they mounted the high ground behind the village Horace glanced round. Three boats were just leaving the schooner. A blow from one of the Greeks that, bound as he was, nearly threw him down, compelled him to turn his head and hurry forward again. For hours they hastened along. When about a mile from the village a sharp fire was heard to break out in that direction. As they had only eight men with them, they doubted not that Rhangos was with the main body opposing the landing.
 
“Our fellows will soon clear them out of the village,” Horace said to the doctor. “I only hope that, as they retire, the Greeks will follow us, for you may be sure that Martyn and Miller will press hard on them, and may perhaps overtake us.”
 
Up to nightfall, however, none of the band came up. The country had been getting more and more hilly, and at sunset they halted far up on the side of a mountain. Here a fire was lit, and some portions of a kid that had evidently been part of the plunder of the village were put over it to roast. The fire was kept blazing, and the doctor and Horace agreed that it was probably intended as a signal to their comrades. A lump of meat was thrown to each of the captives, their cords being loosed sufficiently to enable them to use their hands, their legs being tightly bound again as soon as they had halted. At eight o’clock a sound of voices was heard, and presently a party of Greeks, fully a hundred strong, came up. They were evidently in an ill temper, and replied sulkily to the questions of the guard of the prisoners. Horace gathered from their answers that they had fired a volley upon the boats as they approached; then, seeing they came on without a pause, had at once run from the village and scattered, reuniting some miles on.
 
“We lost everything we had taken,” one of the men said. “We had it all packed and ready to carry away, when those confounded sailors came. Some of us did start with our bundles, but they came so fast up to us that we had to throw everything away, and even then we had a lot of difficulty in keeping away from them. I expect they caught some. It was lucky we started off when we did; if we had waited till they landed very few would have got away.”
 
“Didn’t they shoot?” one of the guards asked.
 
“No, they never fired a shot. I don’t know whether they came ashore without powder, but from first to last they never fired.”
 
“They knew we had these two in our hands,” the guards said, “and they were afraid if they killed any of us we should take it out of our prisoners, and I think they were about right. Ah! here comes Rhangos. He had to take to a farmhouse before he had gone half a mile, and I suppose if any of them looked in they would have seen him feeding pigs or something of that sort, with his finery and arms hidden away.”
 
The klepht had now come up to the fire. He was a spare man, some fifty years old, with a keen hungry face.
 
“Are all here?” he asked briefly.
 
“We are six short of our number,” a man, who by his dress had evidently the rank of an officer among them, replied.
 
 
“Killed?”
 
“No, there was no firing; I expect those sailors ran them down.”
 
“Then we must march in half-an-hour, they will make them lead them here. Now, then, who are you?” he asked the doctor as the elder of the prisoners.
 
“My friend does not speak Greek,” Horace replied. “As you must be well aware we are officers of that schooner that was lying off the village. This is the doctor, I am third lieutenant. We are friends of Greece, we have been in action against the Turkish ships of war, we have saved great numbers of Greek fugitives from the Turks, now this is the treatment that we receive at the hands of the Greeks.”
 
Horace’s reticence as to the fact that he was the son of the owner of the schooner was the result of a conversation with the doctor.
 
“These scoundrels have no doubt carried us off either for the purpose of getting a ransom for us or of handing us over to the Turks as an acceptable present. I expect the idea of ransom is at the bottom of it. We have heard of this fellow Rhangos before. He is a noted klepht, and more Albanian than Greek. Whatever you do, Horace, don’t you let out you are the owner’s son. If you do there is no saying how much ransom they might ask for you. They think that an Englishman who fits out a ship at his own expense to come out here must be rolling in money. As long as they think that they have only got hold of a doctor and a third lieutenant they cannot ask a high price for them, but for an owner’s son there is no saying what figure they might put him at. Have you got a second name?”
 
“Yes, I am Horace Hendon Beveridge. Hendon was my mother’s name.”
 
“That is lucky; you can give them Horace Hendon. It is likely they may know your father’s name, for the Misericordia and her doings have been a good deal talked about. I am not in favour of anyone telling a lie, Horace, but as it is no lie to give your two first names without giving your third, I cannot see that there is harm in it.”
 
“The ship belongs to the Lord Beveridge?” Rhangos asked next.
 
“Yes, that is his name,” Horace replied.
 
“What is your name and that of your companion?”
 
Horace gave his two Christian names and the name of his companion.
 
“Have you paper?” the klepht said.
 
“I have a note-book in my pocket.”
 
“That will do. Now write in Greek: My Lord Beveridge, This is to give you notice that—now write the two names—‘Donald Macfarlane and Horace Hendon,’” Horace repeated as he wrote them, “surgeon and third lieutenant of your ship, are captives in my hands, and that unless three hundred pounds in gold are paid to me as ransom for them they will be put to death. If there is any attempt to rescue the prisoners they will at once be shot. The messenger will arrange with you how and where the ransom is to be paid.”
 
The klepht added his own name in scrawling characters at the bottom of the note, then called one of the men and gave him instructions as to where and how the ransom was to be paid, and then sent him off. As soon as the band had satisfied their hunger the march among the mountains was continued for another two hours. Then they threw themselves down by the side of a stream in a valley surrounded on all sides with craggy hills, and two men with muskets were placed as sentries over the prisoners.
 
“Well, this is not so bad,” Horace said. “It is certainly very lucky you gave me that hint about my name. Three hundred is not very much to pay to get out of such a scrape as this. I suppose there is no fear about their giving us up when they get the money.”
 
“I think not,” the doctor replied. “They would never get ransoms if they did not keep their word. I only hope that no one may let out before the messenger who you are. If they do, there will be a very serious rise in prices.”
 
 
“Fortunately none of them speak Greek but my father, and probably he would read the note before he would ask any questions.”
 
“Maybe yes, and maybe no,” the doctor said. “He is as like as not to say when he sees a messenger, ’Is my son alive and well?’ and then the cat would be out of the bag. Still, your father is a prudent man, and may keep a still tongue in his head, especially when he sees that the note is in your own handwriting. However, we will hope for the best.”
 
Morning had dawned some time before there was any movement among the band. Then their fires were lighted and breakfast cooked.
 
“Will the English lord pay the ransom for you, do you think?” Rhangos asked, sauntering up to Horace.
 
Horace shrugged his shoulders.
 
“It is a large sum to pay for two officers,” he said.
 
“He is rich, it is nothing to him.”
 
“He is well off, no doubt,” Horace said; “but it is not everyone who is well off who is disposed to part with money for other people.”
 
“Well, it will be bad for you if he doesn’t pay,” the klepht said significantly.
 
Three hours later the messenger was seen coming up the valley. Horace looked at him anxiously as he approached, and was pleased to see that, as he spoke to Rhangos, there was no expression of surprise or exultation in the latter’s face. He nodded when the other had finished, and then went to the fire where two or three of his lieutenants were sitting, saying briefly to Horace as he passed him, “He will pay.” Horace could hear what he said to the others.
 
“Demetri says the Englishman did not like paying the money. There was a good deal of talk between him and his officers before he came back to him and said, that though the demand was extortionate he would pay it. He said he should complain to the central government, and should expect them to refund it and settle with you.” There was a general laugh among his hearers.
 
 
“I ought to have asked more,” the klepht went on; “but I don’t know these English. Of course if any of you were taken, my dear friends, I would give all I have to ransom you.” The assertion was received with mocking laughter, as he went on calmly: “But you see other people are not animated by the same generous feeling as we Greeks, and I don’t suppose this milord sets any particular value on the lad, or on that long-shanked doctor. He can hire more of them, and I expect he only agreed to pay the money because his other officers insisted on it. They are rolling in wealth these English, but they are mean; if not, how is it that our pockets are not filled with English gold when we are fighting for a sacred cause?”
 
His hearers were highly tickled by this sentiment.
 
“When are they to be delivered up, Rhangos?”
 
“At mid-day to-morrow at Pales, the village halfway between the foot of the hills and the sea. Four men are to take them down to within a quarter of a mile of the village; then Demetri will go in and get the gold; then when he returns with it to the others the prisoners will be freed.”
 
“I should have thought the matter might have been arranged to-day,” one of the men said.
 
“So it might have been,” the klepht replied; “but I could not tell that. I thought that Demetri would not be able to go off to the ship this morning. He had six hours’ walking, and would not be there until two hours past midnight; then he would have to rest for an hour or two after he had seen them, and then six hours to walk back. It would have been too late to deliver them up before dark, and I should never think of sending them in the dark—their guards might fall into an ambush. As it was, Demetri found them in the village. They had not returned, as I thought they would do, on board their ship. He walked in, thinking the place was empty, when two of those sailors jumped out on him with cutlasses. Thinking that they were going to cut his throat he showed them the letter. They led him to the principal house in the village, and one went in while another held him fast outside. He heard a great talking and excitement in the house, and presently he was taken in. Then, as I told you, there was a great talk, and at last they agreed to pay the ransom. As soon as he got his answer he started on his way back, lay down for an hour or two in an empty cottage, and then came on here. We will stay where we are until to-morrow morning; then, Kornalis, you shall start with four men, and Demetri and the captives, and we will go on our way. We will deal another blow to Vriones, and then we will be off. We will fix on some place where you can join us after you have got the ransom.”
 
“It could not have happened better for us,” Horace said to his companion after he had translated the klepht’s story. “As it turned out, you see, my father got the note before he could say a word to the messenger. That was a capital move their pretending to hesitate about paying the ransom. If they had jumped at it this scoundrel is perfectly capable of raising his terms. As it is, he thinks he was clever enough to hit upon just the maximum sum that could be got for us. Well, it is all right now.”
 
“It will be all right when we are among the others, Horace; there is never any saying what may happen in this country. Some of the peasants these fellows have been robbing may fall on us, seeing we are but a small party. This Vriones with his bandits, who I daresay are just as bad as these fellows, may happen to meet us. No, we won’t calculate too confidently. Things have gone on very well so far. We will just hope they will go on to the end.”
 
Now that the affair was considered to be settled, but little attention was paid to the prisoners. Their cords were taken off, and they were permitted to move about, two men keeping an eye upon them, but not following them closely. They congratulated themselves that the sailors had withheld their fire, for undoubtedly their position would have been very different had some of the brigands been killed. So far from bearing any animosity now, the men chatted with them in a friendly manner, asked questions about their ship, and their encounters with the Turks.
 
“We would rather fight for the Greeks than the Turks,” one said: “but we follow our captains. There is neither pay nor plunder to be obtained with the Greeks; and as Odysseus and all the other chiefs play their own game, and think only o............