Chapter XI: The Sympathy of Europe

A guard of twelve stalwart Emathians, armed with the European rifles, escorted the party from Hagiamavra through the hills to Skandalo the next day. Mr Suter, his eyes again bandaged as a precaution against his possible return to guide an invading force through the wilds, was in high spirits over the important part assigned to him as intermediary between the fleet and the insurgent stronghold. He rode next to Zoe, and talked unceasingly whenever the nature of the path allowed it, explaining, among other things, why Admiral Essiter was called “Point Seven,” an explanation which involved the further explanation of a recondite question of naval gunnery. When the riders came abreast of the refugee camp the midshipman’s eyes were unbound, and he rode proudly into the town, attended by one of the guards, and big with importance, though refusing to explain either his night’s absence on shore or his present errand, obtained a passage back to the fleet in one of the _Magniloquent’s_ boats, which had come on shore for fresh meat. The rest followed more slowly, and established themselves in Dr Terminoff’s office, the house of the chief man of the place, to watch what would follow. Dr Terminoff was delighted at the prospect of their visiting the fleet, though for the same perverse reason as Eirene, and declared exultingly that Nilischeff and his party would find themselves altogether checkmated.

“A boat putting off from the _Magniloquent_!” announced Wylie, who had been watching the flagship through his glasses. “A highly superior boat, too.”

“Oh, it must be the Admiral’s barge!” cried Zoe, drawing upon her recollections of sea-stories read in her youth. “Do please let me look. Isn’t it splendid? Doesn’t it make you feel exactly like Nelson?”

“In a steam-launch? Particularly so,” responded Wylie, surrendering the glass, which Zoe monopolised until the arrival of Mr Suter, bearing a cordial invitation from the Admiral to the son of his old friend to visit him on board the flagship. Going down to the renovated pier, they were received by an officer whose uniform, as Prince Romanos expressed it, “exhibited something more of ornamentation” than that of Lieutenant Cotway, and who at once conciliated the scruples and rejoiced the hearts of the guards by insisting that the invitation included them. Welcomed, after the miraculously short voyage, as honoured guests, the adventurers stood at length on the deck of the _Magniloquent_, there to be received in state by Admiral Essiter, a small spruce man with a plum-coloured complexion, and the air of finding his own inscrutable thoughts faintly amusing. The expression was probably habitual, not due to the circumstances of the occasion, and Zoe had the idea that, like the protective colouring of some animals, it must be assumable at pleasure, for watching her host keenly at lunch, she saw that a look of anxiety sometimes took its place, though the mask went on again as soon as the Admiral perceived that he was observed. When the meal was over, he asked Maurice to give him a quarter of an hour in his cabin, requesting his officers to entertain the rest of the party, even as the astonished Emathian guards were being initiated into the wonders of the great ship by bands of grinning seamen and marines. To the Admiral’s surprise, Prince Romanos appeared to consider himself included in the invitation given to Maurice.

“Your friend doesn’t speak English, perhaps?” said the host, courteously waving Prince Romanos back. “Will you tell him that Captain Bryson will show him over the ship?”

“I thank you--Mr Admiral,” Prince Romanos was wavering between “M. l’Amiral” and Maurice’s “Admiral,” which sounded to him disagreeably curt; “but I understand perfectly. Only I conceive myself to possess an interest not inferior to that of Prince Theophanis in the subject of your discussion.”

“Prince Christodoridi is the rival heir,” explained Maurice, as the Admiral glanced inquiringly towards him. “I think myself that his claims have not a shadow of foundation, and he, of course, thinks the same of mine, but we are pledged not to fight it out until Emathia is free.”

“Which puts it off for a few hundred years or so? Well, if you don’t mind his being present, it’s not for me to object. You are your father all over. There was a story--I don’t guarantee its truth, mind--that when the square was broken at El Met, he was attacked by an Arab with a long spear, who gave him all he could do to defend himself. Somehow or other, he managed to twist the spear out of the fellow’s grip. Did he finish him off when he had him at his mercy? Not he; he waited till he got up, and handed him back the spear to go on with.”

“No, Admiral; that’s a little too stiff,” said Maurice.

“Well,” said the Admiral deliberately, “I never believed it myself till to-day. Now I do. But, pray, what is the meaning of the farce you are playing in that old rat-hole up yonder, masquerading as a Greek prince, as if your honest English ancestors were not good enough for you?”

“Unfortunately they were not English; they were Greek too, descendants of the last Emperor of the East. I have merely returned to the original form of our name.”

“Merely? and what about your assumption of sovereignty?”

“It was in response to a repeated appeal that I would place myself at the head of the Emathian Christians.”

“And who is backing you, if I may be so indiscreet as to ask? Your men are armed with Mausers, and you have a Maxim or two in position, I hear.”

“Your officers must have made good use of their eyes while they were with us. Yes, we are fairly well supplied, but we have no outside backers. A member of my family left a substantial legacy to be applied to the restoration of the fortunes of the house, and we are using that.”

“You mean that you are playing ducks and drakes with it. Why not have bought up a South American republic, or negotiated with the Emperor of Scythia for a dukedom, if a sensational way of throwing away good money for the sake of a shadow was all you wanted?”

“But it was not. What we hope to do is to free Emathia now, and eventually to turn the Roumis out of Europe.”

“A nice modest programme! Couldn’t you have found some less utterly hopeless material to work upon than the Emathian Christians? I have no particular admiration for the Roumi in civil life, though he’s a first-class fighting man, but he is an intelligent gentleman beside these fellows, who torture and mutilate and burn each other’s women and children because one man calls himself a Patriarchist and the other an Exarchist. Have you ever considered seriously what hope there can be of ruling, except by martial law, a set of people who all profess to be Christians, and yet can’t keep their hands off each other’s throats?”

“We have been considering it for years, and now we are trying an experiment. The thing can scarcely be harder than to keep the peace between Mohammedans and Hindus in India. Two things are wanted,--money to keep us going until we can establish some sort of revenue system--which we have--and a body of impartial police to keep the balance between the creeds. There would probably be objections to our enlisting Englishmen, but Colonel Wylie could work as well with Sikhs, and he could get as many as he wanted, if permission was once given.”

“Your intentions are as excellent as your plans are ingenious,” said the Admiral sarcastically, “but you are altogether too idyllic, the whole lot of you. The coasts of the Egean are not No-man’s-land, waiting to be colonised. For a private individual to seize upon a desirable peninsula and settle down to govern it is simply stealing, though I allow that if it had been done by a sovereign state it would merely be called annexation.”

“It is an experiment,” repeated Maurice. “If we can show that it is possible to induce Emathian Christians of different sects to live peaceably together and to serve under the same flag, surely it is an object-lesson worth trying on a larger scale? We hear a great deal of the sympathy of Europe for Emathia, and the absolute impossibility of showing that sympathy except in words. But you can show it here by simply saying ‘Hands off!’ to Roum when she tries to turn us out of Hagiamavra. In return for not being molested we would pay to Czarigrad a tribute amounting to the present average revenue from the peninsula, and acknowledge the Roumi suzerainty. If, at the end of the year, the condition of Hagiamavra compared favourably with that of the rest of Emathia, a larger area might be entrusted to us--perhaps the vilayet of Therma.”

The Admiral stared at his guest in exasperated consternation. “If you were only starting with an entirely new world, your plan might work,” he said slowly, “but you seem to forget entirely the various interests involved. Europe is quite determined that there shall be no fighting over Emathia--whether rightly or wrongly it’s not for me to say. Of course a devastating warfare in the Balkans might wipe out a few inconvenient nationalities, and sweep the map clean for some such experiment as yours, but the Powers won’t have it. We shall maintain the _status quo_ for a year or two, grumbling more and more every month, no doubt, until Scythia and Pannonia are ready. Then those two public-spirited Powers will unselfishly offer to divide Emathia between them and administer it as it should be administered. The Roumis daren’t protest, Thracia and Dacia and Mœsia daren’t fly at the throats of their betters, and order will reign in the Balkans. That’s the plan mapped out, signed and sealed, and when you set up your personal ambitions as a bar to its realisation, you are simply an impertinence to be brushed out of the way. The Powers will have none of you.”

“The Powers have sometimes yielded points on which they had declared themselves absolutely immovable,” said Maurice. “Think of Minoa.”

“There the claimant had dynastic support of the highest and most extraordinarily widespread kind. You have not.”

“My wife believes we can count upon the benevolence of Scythia. She was brought up at that Court, and the Empress has been sending her kind messages of late.”

“All moonshine. They will fool you to the top of your bent, make use of you, and then throw you over. No, don’t deceive yourselves. Reforms in Emathia, short of the partition of the country, won’t succeed, because they are not meant to succeed. They are intended to lead up to that partition when the time is ripe, and disgusted Europe is only too thankful to any one taking an endless problem off her hands. Scythia and Pannonia can’t afford to let you try your experiment, lest by some miracle it should be successful, and because we are acting with them we shall prevent your trying it. Now will you let me give you my frank advice?”

“I can’t promise to take it, but I shall be grateful.”

“Then look here. You can’t say that I have done anything to injure your prestige in the sight of your followers. I have received you as distinguished guests, and I’ll give you a royal salute if it’s a matter of importance to you. Remain safe on board here, and I’ll send a landing-party to bring off the rest of your people--Europeans, of course I mean. You will retire with a good grace, and leave your rival here in possession. He’s up to the sort of thing--it’s in his blood--and you are not.”

“Mr Admiral, you flatter me,” said Prince Romanos, deeply gratified, with an elaborate bow.

“No, sir, I don’t,” retorted the Admiral. “I think a quixotic conscience is an unlucky possession for a filibuster, and I don’t imagine you have got one. Moreover, you are a single man, and I understand that Teffany has a wife and child on that forsaken mountain-top, besides his sister on board here. Well, Teffany, will you save your face and retire in a blaze of glory--of course to give up all this foolishness and retire into private life for the future?”

“No, Admiral; with many thanks to you, I won’t.”

“So I imagined, since you are your father’s son. Understand, then, that it’s war to the knife. I am here as the representative of the Powers to maintain the authority of Roum, and I’ll do it. If your fellows allow Jalal-ud-din’s forces to advance peaceably and recover the peninsula, that’s all right. Also I shall not land men to take part in any fighting unless it’s a case of rescue. But if your men interfere with the landing of troops, or otherwise carry on hostilities within range of my guns, I shall shell them. And to-night a strict blockade will be declared of all the coasts of the peninsula, and any vessel approaching with supplies of any kind, and not turning back when summoned to do so, will be sunk. What yacht is it that has been provisioning you so far? My midshipman saw that your cook wore a yachtsman’s cap.”

“You can hardly expect us to let you into the secret of our ways and means,” said Maurice lightly. “Well, Admiral, we must thank you for your patience and your warning. When the warning comes true, I hope we may fall into no worse hands than yours.”

“God grant it!” cried the Admiral, with startling vehemence. “Good heavens! Teffany,--Theophanis or whatever you call yourself,--what possessed you to bring ladies and children into this affair?”

Maurice hesitated, and Prince Romanos replied for him. “I think, Mr Admiral, I shall only be doing justice to my friend’s wife and sister if I say that these intrepid ladies brought themselves into it.”

“Ah, I daresay! poor ignorant creatures, expecting to find everything made smooth for them, and every Roumi a plaster saint! But you know better,” he turned fiercely upon Maurice. “What did you do it for?--tell me. What possibility is there of your getting them out unharmed?”

“Simply that if we can hold out long enough, the Liberal Powers may get tired of doing Scythia and Pannonia’s dirty work, and insist on giving us a chance.”

“Then Heaven help you, if that’s all you have to hope for!” The Admiral led the way impetuously out of the cabin and plunged into the group of officers who had been making the tour of the ship with Zoe and Wylie. “If I hadn’t invited you on board,” he said in a shaking voice to his guests, “I’d have put you all under arrest and kept you here safe. As it is, I beg and beseech you to save me the disgrace of kidnapping you by staying on board of your own free will. You, sir!” he turned on Wylie, “how dare you encourage these absurd, illegal, fantastic proceedings? It strikes me that you will hear from the War Office before long, and to some purpose.”

“Possibly the War Office has heard from me already, sir,” said Wylie, and the calmness of the reply restored the Admiral’s composure.

“Well, I wash my hands of it. I have done what I could to save you, and as you won’t be saved, I warn you that you’ll have to take the consequences. Wait! call up those Emathians of yours, if you please,” to Maurice. “I presume that if they leave you in the lurch you will be able to yield with a good conscience.”

The guards were summoned, and stood ranged before the Admiral, with obviously agonising efforts to recall Wylie’s instructions as to attitude.

“I wish you to understand,” said the great man harshly, “that Prince Theophanis is engaged in an enterprise which the Powers have entirely forbidden. This rebellion will be put down by force, and no mercy will be shown to any who take part in it. The warships of the Powers will co-operate with Jalal-ud-din Pasha and his army in restoring tranquillity.”

“Yes, lord,” chorused the guards obediently, when Wylie had translated the speech.

“I don’t believe they understand what I mean. What’s that end man grinning for? Do you all understand?”

“Oh yes, lord, we understand perfectly!” and as the Admiral turned on his heel, the furtive grins became broad ones. He made no further attempt to shake the determination of his guests, but as they were embarking he put a note into Mr Suter’s hand.

“Give that to Mr Cotway at the monastery, and tell him I will endorse any arrangement he makes.”

The incident passed without remark, for there was a general depression pervading the ship. The officers bade the visitors farewell as if they were predestined victims, and a faint cheer which broke out among the men was quickly silenced. Zoe, always sensitive to mental atmosphere, shivered as she sat in the boat, though the sun was only beginning to decline. These impartial observers, who would have liked to help but were forced to oppose, were so plainly convinced that nothing but failure was before Maurice and his cause. And failure, in the circumstances, meant----? A little frightened sigh broke from Zoe’s lips, and Wylie turned and looked at her. He asked her if she was cold, and she did not guess that he had read her thoughts until they had passed through Skandalo, and were on their way to Hagiamavra. Then she found him beside her mule.

“I suppose,” he said in a low voice, “there is no hope even now of your consenting to ease our minds by going on board the fleet--you and Princess Theophanis and Con, I mean, of course?”

“What! forsake Maurice now?” cried Zoe. “Certainly not.”

“But think what a comfort it would be to him--to all of us--to know that you were safe. How can a man fight his best when his wife and sister are in the most frightful danger? And then the necessity of dividing our forces,--the monastery must always be guarded, you know, however badly the men may be wanted elsewhere. And after all, what is to be the end of it?”

“You would really be glad if we left you and took refuge with the Admiral?” she asked meditatively.

“Glad? I could sing for joy!” he cried.

“Ah,” said Zoe, “if you had talked like this before, we might have done it, but now it is too late. To escape now would be like rats leaving a sinking ship.”

“Then it is my fault--my cursed pride? Look here, Princess, have pity upon me. Do you want me to go to my death knowing that I have brought you two into all this?”

“Oh, no!” said Zoe quickly; “I ought not to have put it upon you. Eirene would never have turned back, even at Bashi Konak, and I could not have let her go on alone. Nothing would have made us stay behind, so that may comfort you.”

“Pretty comfort!” he growled. “The facts are the same.”

“Oh, but it is not your fault,” responded Zoe, with such evident conviction of the efficacy of her consolation that he attempted no further remonstrance. He was miserably uneasy at the prospect of the future, and hailed even the necessity of a farther journey, when the monastery had been reached, as a means of banishing thought. Admiral Essiter had sent strict orders that Lieutenant Cotway and Mr Suter were to rejoin the _Magniloquent_ that night, and Wylie set out with an escort to conduct them to the edge of the insurgents’ country. Shortly before reaching the point at which they were to part company, Lieutenant Cotway requested Mr Suter to ride a short distance ahead, much to the disgust of that promising officer, and drew close to Wylie.

“Old Point Seven is awfully cut up about the Princesses,” he said. “Can nothing be done to get them away?”

“Nothing. I’ve tried again to-night,” groaned Wylie.

“Well, look here. I presume, when the smash comes, we shall be round somewhere to pick up the pieces. Afraid we can’t do anything for you--you see that?” Wylie nodded, “but the admiral will stretch a good many points to save the ladies. Now can you suggest anything?”

“Nothing short of carrying them off by force would really be effectual,” said Wylie bitterly.

“No last resort? no way of appealing to their better feelings and getting rid of them in that way? Bright idea! why not kidnap the baby?”

“Because you would never get the chance,” said Wylie, laughing in spite of himself. “His mother doesn’t let him out of her sight night or day. But I believe there’s something in your notion. Princess Theophanis has driven her husband to his ruin, but she doesn’t really want the family wiped out, though you might think it. When things get very black, I think it will be possible to induce her to escape, so as to save the child. Yes, and I see how it’s to be done. You know a place called Ephestilo, on the other coast--not the Skandalo side? There are two bays close together. One looks like an excellent harbour, but the cliffs rise sheer from the water’s edge, and there’s no path up them. Avoid that, and steer for the next bay, where there are pillars and things, ruins of a temple of some sort, and a fishing village. There’s a reef of rocks which only leaves room for one boat to enter at a time, but still there is room, and there’s a path down from the top of the cliffs. When things get to the worst, we’ll send away the ladies there by by-paths, and you can take them on board. Of course this is supposing that we are not surrounded. If we are, it’s good-bye, unless the monks have any secret passages.”

“Not likely in this part. But I’ll back you for getting the ladies out of the monastery somehow. You manage that, and we do the rest. We shall be patrolling both coasts to keep supplies from reaching you. By the bye, can’t you do anything to show us when we are wanted at Ephestilo? It would be rather bad not to be on the spot, in case the Roumis were after them.”

“We might light a beacon-fire, but it would be difficult to distinguish----”

“It would, with camp-fires all round. No, I know what’s far better--blue lights. I was going to smuggle a few books and papers on shore for the ladies,--to the care of your medical friend at Skandalo, of course,--and I’ll put in half a dozen blue lights in a box addressed to you. Then you can burn them at half-hour intervals on the monastery gateway, which has a clear view down to the sea, the night before your last stand, and we shall be ready the next day.”

“Right; and if we are unfortunately obliged to make our last stand without warning--why, that’s one of the accidents to which adventures of this kind are liable, and you will excuse notice.”