The Island of Marmora—the Elephonesos of the ancients—is a dependency of an Anatolian Sanjiack, and lies sixty miles south-west of Stamboul. It is about ten miles long, and has a miserable little town of romantic-looking wigwams on its southern coast, and a Turkish pharos on a promontory towards the Bosphorus. Of old, it was famous for its marble quarries, but now is noted only for sterility, and its meagre population of bare-footed and blue-breeched Greek fishermen.
The bay, however, which we were now stealthily entering, was richly wooded; but many of the trees were bare, for the black gusts of the last autumn had swept both sea and shore; but there the wild almond was wont to shed its silver blossoms in spring, and even now, the wild thyme, the caper-shrub, the rose-laurel, the woodbine, and the china-rose, made all the inlet beautiful; nor were the scarlet lotus, or the graceful date-palm, which an Oriental poet likens to a young beauty bending her head; or the soft perfume of the sweet El-caya tree of Yemen, wanting to complete the charm of this dark and shady cove. Softly we stole in, with handkerchiefs tied round our sweeps to muffle them; and while we pulled swiftly, keeping close in shore, and under the deep shadow thrown by the woods upon the starlit water, we carefully loaded and capped our fire-arms, all of which were fortunately Minie rifles, as my detachment belonged to the Light Company.
Now at the end of the bay the moon rose broad and full, and as her giant disc heaved up in all its bright effulgence from the shining sea, a column of light flashed from the horizon into the wooded creek, and displayed its sylvan scenery.
We could see the yacht—the Fairy Bell—as she lay in the shallow water careened to port; she was tautly rigged; her foremast was strong; her mainmast tall, and tapering away aloft like the finest willow wand. Her hull was long and low; her breadth of beam was great, and the copper on her sharp bows shone like burnished gold in the moonlight; her decks were flush, level, and had twelve carronades—all of which, however, were quite useless, by the elevation of their muzzles on one side, and the consequent depression on the other; and I saw at a glance that, unless vigorously defended, this smart little yacht, the flower of Cowes, the pink of the Channel squadron, and the winner of five silver cups which adorned the library at Elton Hall, would fall a prey to these piratical caiques.
We were all nearing her rapidly; but fortunately the dark shadow of the wooded shore completely veiled the kochamba, while the caiques were fully visible in the blaze of a moonlight that filled the bay. A half-shout, half-cheer, from the crew of the yacht—now distant from us about five hundred yards—announced that her people were on the alert. Then a garland of fire zoned her low black gunwale round, as a volley of fire-arms was poured upon the approaching boats, and crashed through their planking.
'Hurrah!' cried Jack Belton; 'the old M.P. is quite up to the mark, I think!'
'Keep close in—keep in the shadow,' said I; 'or, by Jove! we may come in for a dose of that, too, before they know who we are.'
'That fire was well directed,' said Callum.
'It has staggered those devils in the boats—I see them throwing aside their oars,' added Jack.
'Stretch out—stretch out!' I exclaimed, drawing my sword; 'and be ready, every man of yous to fire the moment I give the word!'
It was most unfortunate for the yacht that her guns were rendered useless by her heel to port; but the fire of her small-arms was brisk; and a yell replied, as the caiques, which had been warily pulled in a line duly astern of her, now dashed upon her quarters, and a vigorous attempt was made by the Turks to board. In the moonlight we could see the momentary gleam of sabres as they were brandished, and of bayonets as they were pointed; the flashing of pistols, and the appearance of dark faces and darker figures, as they strove to gain a footing on the side-chains, and to force a passage, by fighting, to the schooner's deck, but were thrust over by the bayonet or beaten down by the clubbed musket; and were dashed, wounded and bleeding, into the sandy and blood-stained water, which took them up to the girdle, or little above it. With all their efforts, it was evident the yachts-men would have the worst of it ere long, for some of the Greek villains had just forced a passage to the deck, when one more stroke of the sweeps brought us within sure range.
'Now, Highlanders,' cried I, 'ready!—present!—you can pick off these fellows like a covey of partridges.'
'Or sparrows on a midden,' added Callum, as thirty Minie rifles, levelled low, were fired out of the gloomy shade, and thirty spherical rifled bullets whistled among the dark crowd which filled the caiques.
'Keep up your fire, my lads,' cried I, 'and give way—stretch out!' I added to the galiondgis; 'close up—let us only come hand to hand with them; pull right across the stern of the yacht, and rake the boats alongside.'
This enabled us to sweep the caiques on both sides of her; and my men kept up a brisk fire. As they had sixty rounds each, there was no danger of their running short of ammunition. Yells of fear and rage were now blended with those of pain, and the water was full of dead and wounded wretches, from among whom some forty or fifty of the survivors were frantically endeavouring to escape; and to the astonishment of the yachts-men, who were totally unable to comprehend from what quarter this unexpected succour had come, the attack was abandoned with precipitation; and two of the caiques were pulled rapidly away, while the others floated alongside, deserted by their crews; for all who were not lying dead on the thwarts, or struggling with wounds and broken limbs in the water, had scrambled ashore and fled.
The attack had been made by not less than sixty outlaws—all savage-looking Suliotes, half-black Natolians, wild Arabs, and Candiote mariners. Of these nearly twenty had been sent to their last account; but the affair was not over yet.
Four or five had fought their way on board the yacht; but when our fire had swept the water alongside, they all sprang overboard, save one, who concealed himself in one of the quarter-boats, at the moment we boarded the schooner.
As I ascended the side, a strange-looking personage, clad in a light-blue uniform jacket minus tails, a pair of checked Tweed trousers, and wearing a cavalry helmet of unique form, appeared to welcome us. He was armed with a large sabre, and though his upper lip had been put on the war establishment, and wore a grisly moustache—and though the costume he had so hastily donned was partly the uniform of the South Pedlington Yeomanry, of which he was Lieutenant-Colonel, I had no difficulty in recognising the sleek round visage and well-curved paunch of old Sir Horace Everingham, all breathless and blown, and decidedly more 'out of sorts' than ever I had seen him, when toiling up my Highland hills at home.
'Never was aid more opportune, my dear sir,' said he; 'from whence have you come with your soldiers—from the clouds? Awful business this—but I expected it—I shall complain to our ambassador—those d——d ungrateful Greeks! I shall address the House on the subject—I will expose it in the "Times" newspaper—I will, sir, by Heaven!'
Close by the baronet stood his fidus Achates, the pale and affrighted Mr. Jeames Toodles, whom he had barbarously forced to remain on deck, and who, having no idea of how to handle any lethal weapon, had spread before him an immense gig umbrella, which loomed in his front like the shield of Achilles, and which he had successfully held between him and 'the dark Suliotes,' whom he believed to be nothing else than veritable Bashi Bozooks, of whom he had seen some appalling sketches in the 'Illustrated London News.'
Several of the fugitives, from among the dark foliage on shore, were now firing with their muskets and pistols, and had wounded some of us. We pulled vigorously towards the beach, and opened a random fire of musketry upon those lurkers in the jungle; but now there came a shrill cry from the deck of the yacht. I looked back, and for a moment saw the light dress of a lady flutter in the moonlight—and then there was a heavy splash in the water alongside, as she was flung overboard.
It was Fanny Clavering, who, impelled by an irresistible curiosity, had peeped on deck, and had at that instant been seized and tossed over the gunwale by the pirate who was concealed in the quarter-boat.
This pirate was Zahroun, the galiondgi, the wretch whom I had left in the Bagnio, but who had escaped from thence, heaven alone knows how (unless aided by Clavering's ring), to share in the horrors of this night attack, which he had so carefully and daringly projected.
In another moment we saw this brawny villain standing on the beach, with the light form of Fanny in his arms (but I knew not that the girl was Fanny then); and a sickly terror that she might be Laura palsied every thought and energy. At arms' length he held her up triumphantly above him, and uttered a cry of derision and defiance:
'Allah ho Ackbar!'—a cry, half-laugh, half-yell—as he opposed her light and drooping figure to the levelled muskets which we dared not discharge. I sprang into the water, with my claymore in one hand, and a loaded revolver, with a single barrel but having six chambers, in the other. Yet I could not fire a single shot for the same reason that withheld the truer aims of Belton and our soldiers, lest the ball might miss the vulture and hit the dove. Callum Dhu followed me close, with his rifle cocked; but as we advanced from the water, up the sandy and pebbled beach, Zahroun ran hurriedly inland, and while we pursued, once, twice—ay thrice, the dark wood was streaked with light, as pistols were fired from the jungle at us, but happily missed.
Now on a little plateau of rock, in the full blaze of the moonlight, the brawny and bandy-legged figure of Zahroun appeared against the sky in dark and strong outline. He grasped his captive by her hair with his left hand; she was on her knees beside him, and with his right arm held aloft, he flourished a long keen Turkish handjiar, which flashed with a blue gleam, for it is a weapon deadly as the creese of a Malay.
'Now, now, foster-brother!' cried I, to Callum Dhu, in Gaelic, 'by God's love and your mother's bones, fire true!'
He knelt down on one knee, and quick as thought took aim; his keen and hawk-like eye glanced along the smooth rifle-barrel—there was a flash—a sharp report; the form of Zahroun wheeled frantically round for a moment in the air, and then fell flat beside his rescued prisoner.
'Dioul!' said Callum, as he coolly reloaded, and cast about his musket; 'tha chried mi gu'n d'thoir am fear ad tuille trioblaidh dhuinn!' (The devil! I don't think yonder lout will trouble us more.)
But he was mistaken; for again the figure of Zahreun staggered wildly up, and he fired a pistol at random, and, in revenge, full at us. I felt a sharp twinge in my left side, as if a hot iron had seared me suddenly. I became giddy, and as I tottered, the dread of leaving life and all the world entered my soul, vividly and painfully.
'O Callum!' I exclaimed, and fell backward into his arms; 'the villain has shot me!'
A volley rang in my ears as the Highlanders poured all their shot and vengeance on Zahroun, who fell prone to the turf, literally riddled by rifle-balls.
Callum's deadly aim, by bringing this savage down and arresting his upraised knife, had averted a great calamity, and saved the life of Fanny Clavering. Another second had seen our terrified beauty laid at the feet of the galiondgi a corpse.
Fanny knew and felt all she owed to Callum, for she had seen him kneel and aim when others shrank from the perilous task; and as he sprang lightly up the rock, and tenderly raised her, she impulsively threw herself with a burst of transport into his arms; for in a moment she recognized her former acquaintance and guide over the steep craigs and heath-clad mountains of Glen Ora.
'Callum Dhu—Callum Mac Ian!' she exclaimed, 'and you it is who have saved me—oh Callum, how I shall love you!'
The features of Callum were strongly marked, and bore evidence of deep and bitter thoughts, and of ready passions. His eyes were keen, and, by turns, fierce and thoughtful, sad, and winning. His bearing was soldier-like; his moustaches were smartly trimmed; his eyebrows were thick and well defined. Fanny, a constitutional coquette, brought all her batteries to bear upon the handsome Highlander; and the moment that her native spirit of fun and flirtation replaced her terror of death, she would have no other hand and no other arm than those of her 'preserver, her dear, dear old friend Callum,' to conduct her to the yacht, and assist her up the side on board.
There, too, I was conveyed in an almost inanimate state; and the alarm for my safety was greatly increased by the total absence of any medical attendance.
I shall not describe the grief of honest Callum, or the terror of Laura Everingham, who during the past conflict had been seated, pale and in tears, in the cabin of the yacht; nor her cry of anguish, on seeing the poor young officer of the Highlanders, who had come so miraculously to their aid, borne senseless and bleeding into her father's cabin; nor shall I attempt to detail her wild glance and speechless astonishment, when the blunt baronet returned to tell her 'that this unfortunate fellow was no other than Allan Mac Innon, the son of old Glen Ora, the wild Highland boy she had known at home!' * * * * * *
It was long before poor Laura could realize the truth of this information, or the terrible tidings of Clavering's death, which, after the hurly-burly was over, she learned from Jack Belton and Callum Dhu next morning.