Chapter XXI: The British Flag

Crouching behind the piled stones, Wylie tried to get a clear view of the enemy attacking from behind, but they had found such good cover that this was difficult. They were on a much lower level, which was fortunate, since they had no mark but the stones, yet the broken country afforded such facilities for concealment that they might at any time climb unperceived to a higher point, and fire down into the sangar. Everything depended on the most extreme watchfulness, so that if they did gain one of the heights they might be shot before they could shoot. Wylie looked round at Zoe, the tension of a few moments before forgotten.

“You have good sight,” he said. “Lie down on the seaward side, and keep a look-out. Let me know if you see anything among the Roumis down there to show that they have noticed us.”

“If we fire, they must notice us,” said Zoe.

“If we don’t, the fellows behind will wipe us out,” said he.

Without further objection, Zoe obeyed, lying flat at the edge of the rock, her face supported on her hands, peering between two stones. At present there was no sign of movement among the Roumis below, for a solitary shot, even if they had heard it, was not likely to arouse their suspicions. But as Zoe watched, the eight rifles behind her crashed out simultaneously, and at once there was a scurrying in the lines beneath, and an eager turning of eyes to the ridge. She warned Wylie, and received his order to tell him the moment any man or men began to scale the hill. But her next words gave him far different news.

“There is a steam pinnace coming towards the opening in the bay!” she cried.

“Better late than never!” said Wylie grimly.

Bullets were flying overhead now from the unseen enemy behind, and every few minutes a rifle or two cracked, as one man or another caught a glimpse of the snipers. The Roumis in front were now evidently persuaded that something out of the common was occurring on the hill-top, and a small detachment was ordered up to inquire into it. Warned by Zoe, Wylie transferred his whole force to that side, and as soon as the Roumis began to mount the hill, they were met with so hot a fire from the eight rifles that they withdrew hastily to seek cover from which to take long shots. But the momentary transference of the garrison had afforded the enemy behind an opportunity of establishing themselves somewhat higher up, and one or two of their bullets even entered the loopholes. One of the insurgents was hit in the arm, but with a handkerchief tied round the injured limb he remained at his post.

“Have you anything that will make a flag?” asked Wylie of Zoe, without turning round. “Handkerchiefs? Right. Then hold it up straight--don’t show yourself, mind--and wave it towards the right. Our men can get round the end of the Roumi line in that direction.”

Seeing that, as he said, the cordon on that side was not complete, Zoe took heart again, though when the bullets came whizzing through the enclosure she had given up all for lost. She and Eirene unfastened the kerchiefs from their heads, and knotting them and their pocket-handkerchiefs together, she manufactured a small flag, and was tying it to the stick which Wylie had used to help him on the march when Zeko turned round and saw what she was doing. With a snarl of fury he tore the stick from her hand, and lifted his rifle as if to dash out her brains. Her involuntary cry made Wylie turn to see what was the matter, and he seized Zeko’s arm. The brigand offered no apology, but pointed for justification to the flag and to Zoe, pouring out a bitter accusation which she was too much shaken to understand.

“It’s all right,” said Wylie. “He thought you were trying to surrender behind our backs--hoisting the white flag, you know. I’ll explain.”

The scowl left Zeko’s brow gradually, but it was clear that his objection to the flag remained. At length, with an air of yielding gracefully to Wylie’s unreasonable demands, he pulled the bandage roughly from the arm of the man who had been hurt, and applied the flag to the wound until it was stained everywhere with blood. Then he handed it back to Zoe with a grin, and she conquered her disgust sufficiently to receive it and fasten it to the stick. It blew out well in the wind, but this made it very difficult to hold, as she lay behind the stones, alternately raising the stick erect and bending it down to the right, with the sun beating on her uncovered head. It was almost a relief when a bullet hit the stick--the flag served as an excellent mark for the enemy in front--and broke it in two, the wind immediately carrying the flag away. Noticing how hot the fire was getting, Wylie moved to the front with three of his men, and told Zoe to take her place with Eirene and Constantine in the most sheltered corner. There they crouched on the ground, in what ought to have been comparative safety, but it seemed a sort of imprisonment to Zoe, who could no longer see what was happening, or watch for the first sight of the relieving force. Moreover, the place, though the best they could find, was not really safe. As she and Eirene sat huddled together, a bullet entered at the loophole nearest them, passing through the head of the wounded insurgent, who sprang up convulsively and fell forward over the barricade, and striking one of the largest stones, which it shattered. Constantine, who had been watching the firing with intense interest, sprang into his mother’s arms with a frightened cry as the flying dust and fragments of rock filled the air. She drew the shawl about him, and he gave a little sigh as he hid his face in her bosom.

“Poor little Con!” said Zoe, when she could find her voice, “how tired he is! Think of going to sleep in the middle of this firing!”

Eirene looked up quickly. “Yes, of course he is tired--terribly tired.” The vague anxiety left her eyes, and her voice grew stronger as she repeated firmly, “It is just that. He is so tired.”

“No harm done, I hope?” said Wylie, looking round. “Keep as low down as you can.”

They obeyed, comforting themselves with the thought that no other bullet was likely to strike in the same place. But as Zoe watched, it seemed to her that the bullets were coming now from a different direction. One even came over the barricade from the back, and struck the ground. The enemy were firing down instead of up. She called out to Wylie.

“Yes, they’ve managed to get up there,” he answered in jerks, without turning his head. “It was when that unlucky shot killed Demo.”

Another man rolled over on his side, and his rifle clattered as it fell. Zeko reached across and took away his cartridge-belt, displaying to Wylie the few cartridges left, and muttering something which Zoe understood to be a prediction that if the women were not killed soon the Roumis would rush the sangar and get possession of them after all. Wylie took out his watch, but the face was smashed.

“Is your watch going?” he called to Zoe. “The sailors ought to be here in twenty minutes. Zeko, find out exactly how many cartridges we have left--for six rifles--and we will allot them accordingly. The Lady Zoe will tell us as each five minutes passes. Don’t let the men fire more than one at a time, unless there comes a rush.”

Zeko made his calculation with an impatient grunt, and at Wylie’s orders divided the cartridges into four parts, one for each five minutes, while Zoe crouched with her watch in her hand, feeling that minutes had never moved so slowly before. Divergent counsels appeared to prevail among the enemy in front, for they fired only in a half-hearted sort of way, but those behind, elated by their position, took full advantage of it. It was impossible to lift a head above the parapet without attracting a bullet, and Wylie and the two men in front were exposed to their fire if they changed their place in the slightest. Still, so long as they remained quiet, they could only be hit by accident, and the persevering foes therefore transferred their attention to the breastwork, trying to knock away the stones, and thus leave the defenders shelterless. They succeeded best at the end opposite to that at which Eirene and Zoe were crouching, where the ridge was very steep, but as there was no attack on that side this did no immediate harm. Through the opening thus made there came a sound of distant music, which roused Zoe’s curiosity. Surely the rescuers could not be bringing a band with them? Crawling forward a little, she saw, as if in a stone frame, the advancing column. The officer at the head, in whom she thought she recognised Lieutenant Cotway, was driving before him a Roumi bugler, who was sounding the “Cease fire!” spasmodically with all his might, admonished by frequent reminders from behind. Close at hand walked a midshipman, displaying boldly, even ostentatiously, a large-sized Union Jack, and some five-and-twenty sailors in marching order followed. The slackness of the fire in front was now accounted for, since Lieutenant Cotway had evidently arrived at an explanation of some sort with the Roumis, though its effects were only gradual, but so far the frenzied exertions of the bugler did not seem to have penetrated to the consciousness of the snipers at the back. Even if they did, the column, climbing its painful path, would not come into sight until it had all but reached the top of the hill, and it was only too probable that until the truth was brought home to them by the actual sight of the White Ensign, the enemy would prefer to assure themselves that the bugler was playing tunes for his own delectation.

“Ten minutes!” said Zoe, returning to her place, and Zeko reached eagerly for the third supply of cartridges. As he did so, a bullet struck the heap, and a violent explosion flung him backwards. Three of his fingers were torn off, and he was much scorched, but even in his agony what appealed to him most was the fact that save for two or three cartridges in the magazines of the rifles not yet emptied, the ammunition was gone. Zoe crawled to him to try and tie up his hand, but he waved her away angrily, and did it himself with the other hand and his teeth, then took out his knife and lay down to wait. But there was little prospect now of the enemy’s trying to rush the breastwork, for the sound of the explosion must have told them what had happened, and they were not likely to trust themselves within stabbing distance of the four bruised, scorched men who now alone remained. The front of the sangar had been blown clean out, and the back, which stood on level ground, was now no longer a wall, but a heap, affording next to no shelter. Wylie took possession of the three undischarged rifles, and trained them on one particular point, forbidding the men to fire until he gave the word. Sooner or later the snipers would advance to a height from which they could fire straight down into the place, and unless they could be checked in this, there would be no one left to save when the rescuers arrived. Presently the rifle he held went off, and by the muttered exclamations of joy from the men, Zoe knew that one of the enemy, at any rate, had fallen in the attempt to reach the coveted spot. Then the other two were discharged simultaneously, and Wylie turned savagely upon the culprits, who had wasted two precious cartridges upon one Roumi. All that remained now was one cartridge still in his rifle, and that was soon expended, not so successfully as before, since the Roumi at whom he fired was only wounded.

“Close in now, and shelter the ladies,” he said, and the men obeyed. Wylie thrust his revolver into Zoe’s hand.

“If we are all done for before the sailors get up,” he said, and she understood, and laid it down beside her. The Roumis were on the height now, but they had not got the exact range, and the bullets were dropping beyond the group. Then Zeko sprang up and spun round wildly, made a vain attempt to hurl his knife at the foe, and fell with a horrible crash. Zoe hid her face.

“Oh, do it, do it now!” she entreated of Wylie. “I shall go mad if this goes on.”

“Quiet. Wait!” he said firmly. “I thought I saw--yes, there they are. Here, here!” he shouted, putting his hands to his mouth.

“Where?” cried another voice. “Yes, all right. Cease firing up there, or I fire!”

The firing ceased as if by magic, and Lieutenant Cotway hurried across the piece of open ground, followed by his seamen. Mr Suter, with great presence of mind, wedged the flagstaff into the heap of stones, and held it up straight.

“Only just in time!” said Wylie, getting up.

“So it seems. Ladies not hurt, I hope? Well, you have made a good fight of it. Sorry to be obliged to put you and your survivors under arrest--Admiral’s orders. Is Prince Theophanis here? No? The old man will be disgusted--hoped to get you all out of mischief at one blow. Well, better toddle back to the boat with what we have got, for our Roumi friends are not exactly charmed by our interference.”

“Send the ladies on in front,” said Wylie. “We must look after our poor fellows, you know.”

Was the man frightened? wondered Lieutenant Cotway. His teeth chattered and his face was white, and he leaned against the rock as though he could scarcely stand. “Collapse, possibly,” the sailor said to himself, and turned to offer his hand to help Eirene to rise. “Sorry to meet you again in such circumstances, ma’am. Afraid you’ve had a bad time? But once we get you on board it’ll be better. I’m going to send you on ahead with Mr Suter while we rig up some sort of contrivance for the wounded. Is that my young friend Con you have there? Don’t wonder you are tired if you have been carrying him all the way from the monastery. This man will take him for you.”

The big sailor he indicated handed his rifle to a comrade and held out his arms, but Eirene only clasped her boy closer. There was a furtive, almost suspicious, look in her eyes. “No, no,” she said breathlessly, “I will carry him. I am not tired. No one shall take him from me.”

“Of course not,” said Mr Cotway soothingly. “I thought it might be a relief to you, that’s all. You persuade your sister to rest if you get a chance,” he added to Zoe. “One can see she’s had a pretty hard time.”

“Yes, yes,” said Zoe. “Oh, tell me,” she said anxiously, lowering her voice,--the tall lieutenant was standing between her and the rest,--“you are going to bring Colonel Wylie on board? You are not going to--to shoot him?”

The sailor repressed a laugh with difficulty. “Don’t be afraid, there’s no deception,” he assured her. “‘We are here for all your goods,’ don’t you know?”

“But Maurice--my brother--can you save him?”

“Can’t tell till I hear more about it. But the sooner you get on board and pour everything into the sympathetic ears of Point Seven, the better. He has been like a bear dancing on a hot plate the last few days. He’ll strain the resources of the Concert to breaking-point if there’s anything he can do. Got your ten men, Mr Suter?”

The ten men were waiting, and Mr Suter, proud of his independent command, led them off in fine style. As soon as they and their charges had passed over the edge of the plateau, Lieutenant Cotway turned to Wylie.

“I say, you must be wounded. What is it?”

“No, merely fever. I’m afraid I must ask you to let one of your men give me an arm down the hill. But there was one of our fellows I hoped wasn’t dead.”

Together they examined the bodies strewn about the ruins of the sangar, but no life remained in any of them. To those acquainted with Roumi methods of warfare, their disposal presented a difficulty, but one of the two remaining insurgents suggested a cairn, and the corpses were laid in the centre of the space which had witnessed their last fight, and the stones piled over them. Then the man drew a circle round the heap with his knife, and scrawled cabalistic figures inside and outside it, muttering the while. “It is magic,” he said, as he rose from his knees. “Even the accursed will not dare to disturb that grave, and in the years to come the relics of the martyrs shall be carried to a shrine worthy of them.”

“Your people seem to be full of spirit still,” said Lieutenant Cotway as he helped Wylie down the hill, a sailor supporting him on the other side; “but I’m afraid your cause is in a bad way. What’s your Prince doing?”

“He was proposing to surrender to-day, as being more dignified than finding himself handed over by traitors on his own side,” said Wylie.

Mr Cotway whistled. “Isn’t it slightly confiding to treat with the Roumis without giving the Admirals a chance to see fair?” he asked.

“Unfortunately the Admirals were at an Olympian distance, and the Roumis in between. We simply couldn’t get at you. But there is just a chance that you may be in time to prevent a massacre yet.”

“With twenty-five men? Oh, I see, you mean the representatives of Europe generally. Well, my orders are to escort the ladies on board, but I think old Point Seven would agree that it was a case for discretion. I shall send you aboard with Suter, and hold Ephestilo, for fear our landing should be disputed. The Roumis will hardly yearn for publicity.”

“You will want a guide,” said Wylie thickly.

“Well, I don’t intend to engage you for the post. One of your men might do. I suppose there’s a straight road from Ephestilo to your headquarters?”

“Yes, but the Roumis are lying across it.”

“They ought to know which side their bread is buttered by this time. The Roumis won’t take any trouble to spare the susceptibilities of their warmest friends, but they will probably not care to fire on armed Europe. Ah, here we are on the level at last! Now we shall get on faster. Take my arm again. Baines, go on giving Colonel Wylie an arm on the other side. There are the ladies, I see. Why won’t Princess Theophanis let some one else carry that heavy child? I suppose she gave him something last night to keep him quiet?”

“No. He talked a good deal till quite lately.” Wylie spoke with difficulty.

“Hope there’s nothing wrong, then. He seemed very quiet. I say,” as Wylie stumbled, “what’s up? I don’t think you’ll get as far as the _Magniloquent_ this morning. Can you keep up till we get to Ephestilo, or shall I send a man on to get some sort of litter?”

“I can keep up,” declared Wylie, and he stumbled on between his two supporters, and succeeded in reaching the outskirts of Ephestilo. The inhabitants, who had forsaken their homes for hiding-places among the rocks on the approach of the Roumis, were returning now, with a pathetic confidence in the power of the little pinnace lying at the rude quay, and the people whose house Wylie had occupied during his illness met him and claimed him as a guest,--not, perhaps, without an eye to the special protection this would probably involve. Leaving him in their charge, Lieutenant Cotway hurried to the quay, from which Eirene and Zoe were just embarking.

“Tell the Admiral the whole state of things, Princess,” he said to Zoe, for Eirene was too much engrossed with her boy to have any ears for him. “I am staying on shore for the present, and keeping Colonel Wylie with me, and I only hope we may be able to bring your brother off safely to-night.”

The short voyage from Ephestilo to the flagship was accomplished almost in silence. Zoe was hastily conning over in her mind the facts of the situation, and trying wildly to put them into the fewest words that would suffice to move the Admiral to instant action. Mr Suter’s usual flow of talk was checked. He and his crew were alike uneasily conscious of the silent woman with the terror-haunted eyes, who sat huddled by herself, clasping a bundle to her breast--an image of dread that must have filled Zoe with foreboding had not her mind been fully preoccupied with the effort to save Maurice from his impending fate. They reached the ship at last, and the Admiral himself came down the ladder to welcome them and help them to the deck.

“I fear you have had a most unpleasant journey,” he said kindly to Eirene. “Be sure that whatever we can do to make you forget it--ah, what’s that? the baby got hurt?”

“Mr Cotway said he was afraid there was something wrong with it, sir,” said Mr Suter, in what he imagined to be a whisper. It roused Eirene at once.

“There is nothing wrong with him!” she cried, glaring round on the officers. “He is all right--only frightened by so many strangers. He always hides his face when he is shy--doesn’t he, Zoe? doesn’t he? You know he does.” Her voice rose almost to a scream. “He will be quite good when he is once alone with me--quite good.”

“Yes, of course,” said the Admiral gently. “Bring him in here, and put him on the bed. No, don’t be afraid; we will all go away. But you would like the doctor, wouldn’t you?--just in case there is any little scratch or bruise, you know.”

He signed to the surgeon to enter the cabin, and came out, shutting the door noiselessly. Then he turned to Zoe.

“Now what is it you want to tell me?” for she had been trying to attract his attention ever since they arrived. “About your brother? Dear me, a sad change since you were here last!”

“The Roumis will hear of nothing but unconditional surrender,” said Zoe breathlessly; “and Maurice is holding out in hope of getting better terms, but he has reason to be afraid of treachery from some of the men on our own side.”

“Unconditional surrender? The Powers have made it plain to the Roumis from the first that the rank and file of the insurgents were to go free if they laid down their arms. Why did your brother not apply for our mediation?”

“The Roumis would let no one pass, and that Hercynian who is in their camp, Gratrian Bey, sided with Jalal-ud-din.”

“So I should imagine. Well, this must be looked into, even if it breaks up the Concert. Ask Admiral Scartazzini and Admiral d’Anville if they will co-operate with me in sending landing-parties on shore at once,” he said to an officer. “What are the best roads into the interior of the peninsula?” he asked Zoe.

“The one from Ephestilo is the nearest, but the one from Karakula is the easiest to find. From Skandalo you can’t find your way without a guide.”

“But there are some of your party left to serve as guides? Still, we won’t try Skandalo, for the Hercynians are guarding it. The Neustrians had better start from Karakula, and the Magnagrecians and ourselves from Ephestilo. Then I hope---- Well, what news?” as the surgeon came out of the cabin.

“The poor child is dead, sir.”

“Dead?” cried Zoe and the Admiral together.

“Hours ago. The merest bruise on the temple--from a flying stone, I imagine. It must have been instantaneous. The mother is distracted--refuses to believe it even now; but I think she must have guessed.”