BEFORE starting, the disguises of Horace and the doctor were perfected. They were so bronzed by the sun and air that their skin was no fairer than that of many Turks of the better class; but it was thought as well to apply a slight tinge of dye to them, and to darken the doctor’s eyelashes and eyebrows with henna. The hair was cut closely off the nape of the neck, below the line to which the turban, properly adjusted, came down, and the skin was stained to match that of their faces. The garments they wore formed part of Ahmed’s wardrobe, and only needed somewhat more careful adjustment than they had at first received. The ladies came up to bid them farewell; but, as it had been arranged that in the course of a few days, when inquiry should have ceased, the bey, with his wife and daughters, should also proceed to their country residence, they would meet again ere long. Mourad was to accompany them, and putting a large box on his shoulders, filled with changes of clothes and other necessaries, he followed them down the street.  
In a short time they were in a busy thoroughfare, the number of people becoming larger and larger as they went down towards the water. Janissaries in their showy uniform swaggered along, soldiers of the line, merchants, and peasants, while hamals staggering along under enormous burdens swung from bamboo poles, made their way, keeping up a constant shout to the crowd to clear the road. State functionaries moved gravely along on their way to the offices of the Porte. Veiled women, with children in their arms or clinging to them, stopped to talk to each other in the streets or bargained with the traders at the little shops. Military officers and Turks of the upper class rode along on showy horses, prancing and curvetting and scattering the foot passengers right and left.
 
Ahmed and his companions kept straight on, paying apparently no attention to what was going on around them, Ahmed occasionally making a remark in Turkish, the others keeping silent.
 
When they reached the water-side a number of boatmen surrounded Ahmed, who soon found two men whom he had frequently employed. The caique was brought alongside. Ahmed had already told Horace to step in without hesitation with his companion, and to take their seats at the bottom of the boat in the stern, while he and Mourad would sit between them and the boatmen. The latter took their places, and each seized a pair of the sculls. These, which were much lighter than the sculls of an English boat, were round with a long broad blade. They were not in rollocks, but in a strap of leather fastened to a single thole-pin; inside this they thickened to a bulk of three or four inches in diameter, narrowing at the extremity for the grip of the hand. This thick bulge gave an excellent balance to the sculls, and was rendered necessary by the fact that the boats were high out of water, and the length of the sculls outboard disproportionately large to that inboard.
 
A few vigorous strokes by the rowers sent the boat out into the open water. Then the forward oarsman let his sculls hang by their thongs alongside, took out four long pipes from the bottom of the caique, filled and lighted them, and passed them aft to the passengers, and then again betook himself to his sculls. Bearing gradually across they reached the other side below Scutari, and then kept along the shore at a distance of a hundred yards from the land. Ahmed chatted to the oarsman next to him, and to Mourad, occasionally making some remark to the others in Turkish in reference to the pretty kiosks that fringed the shore; enforcing what he said by pointing to the objects of which he was speaking. They assumed an appearance of interest at what he was saying, and occasionally Horace, who was next to him, talked to him in low tones in Greek, so that the boatman should not catch the words, Ahmed each time replying in Turkish in louder tones.
 
No class of boatmen in the world row with the vigour and strength with which those of the Bosphorus—who are for the most part Albanians—ply their sculls, and both Horace and the doctor were struck with surprise and admiration at the steady and unflagging way in which the men rowed, their breath seeming to come no quicker, though the perspiration stood in beads on their brown faces and muscular arms, and streamed down their swarthy chests, which were left bare by the open shirts of almost filmy material of snowy whiteness. Once only in the two hours’ journey did they cease rowing and indulge for five minutes in a smoke; after which they renewed their labours with as much vigour as when they first started.
 
“That is the kiosk,” Ahmed said at last, pointing to one standing by itself near the water’s edge on a projecting point of land, and in a few minutes the caique swept in to the stairs. Ahmed had quietly passed a few small silver coins into Horace’s hand, whispering in Greek:
 
 
“Give them these as you land; an extra tip is always welcome.”
 
Then he paid the men as he got out, saying to them:
 
“I expect the ladies in a few days. You had better go up each morning to the house, and then you can secure the job.”
 
Horace dropped the coins into the boatman’s hand, with a nod, as he stepped out, and then they walked up to the house. The boatmen again lighted their pipes for a smoke before starting back on their long row. The kiosk was shut up. Mourad opened the door with a key, and threw the shutters open.
 
“I wonder you leave the place entirely shut up,” Horace said.
 
“There is nothing to steal,” Ahmed laughed. “A few mats for the floors and cushions for the divans. The cooking pots and crockery are locked up in a big chest; there is little else. There are a few vases for flowers and other ornaments stowed away in a cupboard somewhere, but altogether there is little to tempt robbers; and, indeed, there are very few of them about. The houses are always left so, and it is an almost unknown thing for them to be disturbed. You see everything is left clean and dusted, so the place is always ready when we like to run down for a day or two. The house has not been used much lately, for my parents and sisters have been two years at Athens, and I have been frequently away at our estates, which lie some fifteen miles west of Constantinople. Now we will take a turn round, while Mourad is getting dinner ready.”
 
The latter had brought with him, in addition to the box, a large basket containing charcoal, provisions, and several black bottles.
 
“There is a village half a mile farther along the shore, where he will do his marketing to-morrow,” Ahmed had explained as he pointed to the basket.
 
The garden was a rough triangle, two sides being washed by the water, while a high wall running across the little promontory formed the third side. It was some sixty or seventy yards each way; the house stood nearly in the middle; the ground sloped down on either side of it to the water, and was here clear of shrubs, which covered the rest of the garden, interspersed with a few shady trees. There were seats placed under these, and a small summer-house, surrounded on three sides by high shrubs but open to the water, stood at the end of the point.
 
“It is a little bit of a place, as you see,” Ahmed said; “but my mother and the girls are very fond of it, and generally stay here during the hot season. It is quite secluded, and at the same time they have a good view of everything going up and down the Sea of Marmora; and if there is any breeze at all, it sweeps right through the house.”
 
“It is charming,” Horace said. “With a boat here, one could not want anything better.”
 
“We always have a boat, with two men, while we are here,” Ahmed said. “The two men who rowed us have been with us two or three seasons. My father often wants to go into Constantinople, and I generally go when he does. We usually sleep at our house there, and come back the next evening. If the ladies want to go out while we are away, they can get a caique at the village.”
 
After they had taken a turn round the garden they went into the house again. The principal room on the ground-floor was at the end of the house, and occupied its full width. The windows extended entirely round three sides of it, a divan, four feet wide, running below them.
 
“You see, on a hot day,” Ahmed said, “and with all these windows open, it is almost like being in the open air; and whichever way the wind is, we can open or close those on one side, according to its strength.”
 
The ceiling and the wall on the fourth side of the room were coloured pink, with arabesques in white. The windows extended from the level of the divan up to the ceiling, and were of unpainted wood varnished, as was the wood-work of the divan. The floor was very carefully and evenly laid, and the planks planed and varnished. Beyond two or three little tables of green-painted wood, there was no furniture whatever in the room. Outside the windows were jalousies or perforated shutters, which could be closed during the heat of the day to keep the room dark and cool.
 
Mourad had already got out the cushions and pillows and spread them on the divan; had placed a small iron bowl full of lighted charcoal in a low box full of sand in the centre of the room, and a brass casket full of tobacco on one of the tables. Half a dozen chibouks, with amber mouthpieces and cherry or jasmine-wood stems, leant in a corner.
 
Three of the pipes were soon filled, and a piece of glowing charcoal, taken from the fire with a pair of small tongs lying beside it, was placed on each bowl. A few puffs were taken to get the tobacco alight, then the pieces of charcoal were dropped into the fire again, and shaking off their slippers they took their seats on the cushions of the divan.
 
“It is very unfortunate that your friend does not speak Greek,” Ahmed began.
 
“Yes, it is unfortunate for him,” Horace said as he translated the remark to Macfarlane.
 
“If I had known that my lot was going to be cast out here,” the doctor said, “I would have insisted on learning modern Greek instead of ancient at school—that is, if I could have got a dominie who could have taught me. It is a very serious drawback, especially when you know that people are talking of things that may or may not mean that you are going to get your throat cut in an hour or so. For the last two days I seem to have been just drifting in the dark.”
 
“But I always translate to you as much as I can, doctor.”
 
“You do all that, Horace, and I will say this that you do your best; but it is unsatisfactory getting things at second hand. One likes to know precisely how things are said. However, as matters have gone there is nothing to grumble at, though where one’s life is concerned it is a natural weakness that one should like to have some sort of say in the matter, instead of feeling that one is the helpless sport of fate.”
 
Horace laughed, and Ahmed smiled gravely, when he translated the doctor’s complaint.
 
“It comes all the harder to me,” the doctor went on, “because I have always liked to know the why and the wherefore of a matter before I did it. I must confess that since I have been in the navy that wish has been very seldom gratified. Captains are not in the habit of giving their reasons to their surgeons, overlooking the fact altogether that these are scientific men, and that their opinion on most subjects is valuable. They have too much of the spirit of the centurion of old. They say ‘Do this,’ and it has to be done, ‘You will accompany the boats, Dr. Macfarlane,’ or ‘You will not accompany the boats.’ I wonder sometimes that, after an action, they don’t come down into the cockpit and say, ‘You will cut off this leg,’ or ‘This arm is not to be amputated.’ The highness-and-mightiness of a captain in His Majesty’s navy is something that borders on the omnipotent. There is a maxim that the king can do no wrong; but a king is a poor fallible body in comparison with a captain.”
 
“Well, I don’t think you have anything to complain of with Martyn,” Horace laughed.
 
“Martyn is only an acting-captain, Horace, and it is not till they get the two swabs on their shoulders that the dignity of their position makes itself felt. A first lieutenant begins, as a rule, to take the disease badly, but it is not till he gets his step that it takes entire possession of him. I have even known a first lieutenant listen to argument. It’s rare, lad, very rare, but I have known such a thing; as for a captain, argument is as bad as downright open mutiny. Well, this is a comfortable place that we have got into, at least in hot weather, but I should say that an ice-house would be preferable in winter. These windows don’t fit anyhow, and there would be a draft through them that would be calculated to establish acute rheumatism in the system in the course of half an hour.”
 
“The house is not used at all in winter,” Ahmed said, when he understood the nature of the doctor’s criticisms. “Almost all the kiosks along here belong to people in the town, and are closed entirely for four months of the year. We are fond of warmth, and when the snow is on the ground, and there is a cold wind blowing, there would be no living here in any comfort.”
 
Six days passed. Ahmed went once to Constantinople to learn what was going on. He brought back news that the escape of the two English prisoners had caused a great sensation at the Porte, that all the officers in the regiments there had been paraded in order that the boatmen and the officers of the brig might pick out the one who had brought off the order, but that naturally no one had been identified. The soldiers had also been inspected, but as none of these had been particularly noticed by the boatmen, the search for those engaged had been equally unsuccessful. Fazli Bey had been severely interrogated, his servants questioned, and his house searched, but nothing had been found to connect him in any way with the escape. A vigilant watch had been set upon every European ship in port, and directions had been sent that every vessel passing down the straits was to bring-to off the castles, and to undergo a strict search.
 
Ahmed said that his father had heard from Fazli Bey that while the Sultan was furious at the manner in which the prisoners had been released, it was against those who had taken part in it that his anger was principally directed, and that it was thought he was at heart not altogether sorry that the two men who had befriended the Turks at Athens had got off, although he would not have wavered in his own expressed determination to put to death without exception all foreigners who had aided the Greeks. “My father has not at present thought of any plan for getting you away,” Ahmed said. “The search is too rigorous, and no master of a vessel would dare to carry you off; but in a short time the matter will be forgotten, and the search in the port and in the Dardanelles will be slackened. It causes a great deal of trouble and inconvenience, and the officials will soon begin to relax their efforts. It is one of our national characteristics, you know, to hate trouble. My father will be here with the others in a couple of days, and then we will hold a council over it.”
 
The next day a boat arrived with carpets and hangings for the rooms upstairs, which were entirely devoted to the females of the household; and on the following evening Osman Bey, with his wife and daughters, arrived in the same caique that Ahmed had come in, two female servants with a quantity of luggage coming in another boat. The next few days passed very pleasantly. The ladies took their meals apart upstairs, but at other times sat in the room below, treating Horace and the doctor as if they were members of the family. There were many discussions as to the best method of effecting their escape, and Ahmed went twice to Constantinople to ascertain whether the search for them was being relaxed.
 
At last he and his father agreed that it would be the best plan for them to go to Izmid, and to take a passage from there if some small craft could be found sailing for Chios, or one of the southern ports or islands. Ahmed was to accompany them, and was first to go to Izmid to make the necessary arrangements. He knew many merchants in the port, and as some of these were intimate friends they would probably be disposed to assist those who had rendered so great a service to Osman Bey and his family, but at the same time Ahmed said: “You must not be impatient. The news of your being carried off by sham soldiers, as they say, after their having assaulted and robbed the officer who was bearer of the order for your delivery, has made a great talk, and I shall have to be very careful as to how I open the subject.”
 
“Pray run no risks,” Horace said. “You have all done so already, and we should be unhappy, indeed, were any ill-fortune to befall you or your family for what you have done for us. We are very comfortable here. I would much rather wait for some really favourable opportunity than hazard your safety, to say nothing of our own, by impatience. It is but a fortnight since we made our escape.”
 
“I am going up the Bosphorus to-morrow,” Ahmed said. “I have to see a bey whose property adjoins ours, and who has a kiosk some distance above Scutari. It is only a question of business, and I shall not be many minutes. I shall be glad if you will go with me; you can remain in the boat. The rowers are so accustomed to see you that they can have no curiosity about you; besides, now that they are regularly in our service, and sleep and live here, there is no one for them to gossip with, and, indeed, as we are good patrons of theirs I do not think they would say anything about you, whatever they might suspect.”
 
“I suppose you can take us both, Ahmed?”
 
“Certainly I meant that, of course. Your friend would find it dull indeed alone here.”
 
Accordingly the next morning they started. When they neared Scutari they saw on the other side of the water a brig making her way in from the Dardanelles.
 
“That is a slovenly-looking craft, doctor, with those dirty ill-fitting sails; rather a contrast that to our schooner. I wonder where she is and what she is doing. That brig is about her size too, and the hull is not unlike hers, looking at it from here.”
 
The doctor gazed at the craft intently. “Eh, man,” he said in low tones, grasping his companion’s arm tightly, “I believe that it is our craft, Horace.”
 
“What, that dirty looking brig, doctor, with her sides looking as rusty as if she had not had a coat of paint for the last year!”
 
“It’s the schooner disguised. It is easy enough, lad, to alter the rig, and to get hold of dirty sails and to dirty the paint, but you can’t alter the shape. No Greek, or Turk either, ever turned out the hull of that brig.”
 
 
“It is marvellously like the schooner,” Horace said. “I should almost have sworn that it was her.”
 
“It is the schooner, lad. How she got there, and what she is doing, I don’t know, but it is her.”
 
“What is it?” Ahmed asked. “What is there curious in that brig that you are ............