Then walking down to the port we took two boats for ourselves and our baggage, and urging the boatmen to hurry, in our eagerness not to miss a chance of sailing that evening if the wind allowed it, we reached Dia in two hours; and there was Mr. North very pleased to see us. We now watched the wind for a chance of getting out of port, but it shifted unsteadily from point to point, and there we remained twelve days. My occupations were to wander about over the desert island, draw, and read a great deal. It was dull, no doubt, but nothing to the active boredom of society in Candia. Mr. North had several excellent cases of books, and I fell upon Gibbon, and became entirely absorbed in it.
At last the wind changed, the captain set all hands to work, and we got out of port, but lay outside rolling the whole day in a dead calm. Towards evening the wind came strong from the south, and our captain, always afraid to beat against it, let it drive us with it to the north, so that in the night we passed Nio, and in the morning found ourselves among the Cyclades between Paro and Siphanto, into the latter of which the captain begged leave to put, for he said the weather looked dirty. The harbour of Siphanto, which is called Pharo, is rather exposed to the south, but is otherwise good. There is the usual chapel to the Panagia at the entrance.
I had caught such a violent cold and fever from sleeping on deck the night before that I was forced to go to bed and stop there for the next two days, so that I was prevented from going ashore and visiting the town with North and Foster. It lies about one hour off on the hill, the houses scattered and looking from a distance like the broken remains of a wall. Above is a castle, apparently of the time of the Dukes of the Archipelago. Foster found nothing there of interest except numbers of pretty girls, some of whom were so pressing that he found it difficult to get away alone. The fact is the men of the island, being mostly sailors, are away at sea, and the ladies, being left in a majority, make the love which in other countries is made to them. The costume, a Venetian bodice and high bonnet, with very short petticoats, is pretty and peculiar. There are no Turks in the island, but some Turkish sailors lying in the port took offence at the fine clothes of North and Douglas, saying we were Romaics, and had no right to ridicule their Faith by wearing their sacred dress. They even threatened to give stronger proofs of their displeasure than by mere words.
However, next morning we were towed out of port; but being becalmed all day outside, Mr. North, who had been stirred by the remonstrances of the Turks just mentioned, sent in a boat, and got a wig, a pair of shoes and breeches for his own wear.
Next day we were still lying becalmed among the Cyclades, but the next a light breeze sprang up and carried us northwards through the passage towards Scio; for Mr. North, tired of our delays, having lost all confidence in our captain, and frightened at the violence of the winds, had finished by making up his mind to give up the voyage to Egypt; and this caprice, by which all our time and immense expenses were wasted, necessarily involved us all. I must say I was bitterly disappointed. But luck was against us; we could not afford to make the journey alone, and I had to make the best of it. It took us two days to get to Scio.
A steady wind carried us gently on from Mykoni, and we seemed to enter a large lake: on one side were the mountains of Anatolia; on the other, the left, the Isle of Scio, richly cultivated and populous. The whole coast is covered with the so-called mastic villages. The mastic plant, which is cultivated mainly on the east side—the side we were looking at—of the island, is a high evergreen. It is gathered much as resin is from firs, and the annual crop is about 6,000 okes, all of which goes to Constantinople. Besides mastic, the island produces a vast quantity of fruit, which also goes to the capital. The population is very large, almost entirely Greek. Compared to the wretched Cretans, they are very independent, both men and women. The latter paint extravagantly and wear an ugly costume; but I must say that on a festa, such as the day after our arrival, being the 13th of January and New Year's Day in Greece, the crowds of them dressed in their best, sitting on either side of the street, looked as brilliant as banks of flowers.
Before leaving we went to see the chief curiosity of the island—viz. Homer's School. It lies northwards, along the shore, about an hour's ride. You arrive first at a fall of a small stream into the sea, and a little above is a singular hanging rock, the top cut smooth into a circular floor about 20 feet across. In the centre an altar is left, on which are carved in bas-relief, on three sides, greyhounds, and on the fourth—the front—something resembling the head and breast of a sphinx. It looks south-east. The situation is exceedingly pretty, but why it should be called Homer's School I cannot conceive. It was more probably an altar to some deity whose shrine was near—possibly the deity of the beautiful spring below.
There is in Scio an agreeable polyglot society of merchants of all nations living together in harmony. One may find an English family where English is the only language not spoken, the men perhaps speaking a little badly, and the women going to church on Sunday and not understanding a word. As Mr. North intends to remain here and Douglas is starting homewards by way of St. Petersburg, Foster and I took leave of them and sailed for Smyrna in the evening.
We were carried gently along between Scio and the mainland till we reached the north end of the passage. There we fell in with a storm. The wind rose very strong; all around us grew fearfully black, and close to us fell a waterspout. Hereupon the man at the helm sunk terrified on his knees and made a large cross in the air with his hand. But our old pilot ordered him to look to the helm, for that he would save us from the danger. Drawing out a knife with a black handle (a very important point, I understand), he with it made also a cross in the air, and then stuck it into the deck and pronounced the words: Ἑν ἁρχἡ ἡν ὁ λὁγος [Greek: En archê ên ho logos], &c. ('In the beginning was the Word.') Whereupon, or very shortly after, the waterspout did disperse and our pious Greek took to himself all the credit for having saved us from a considerable danger. Our next fright was that we should hardly be able to clear Cape Boronu, the point of the Gulf of Smyrna, but we did just manage to do that also.
The wind changed about several times, till presently it came down in a heavy gale from the north and continued to increase, till all was confusion and terror on board. And indeed we were in a very awkward plight; for our ship was a very bad sailer and we were on a lee shore with a wind she could make no head against. Besides, the rain and the hail prevented our seeing anything. The captain completely lost his head, trembled with fear, and began reproaching us for persuading him to leave Scio. The only man who kept his presence of mind was the pious old pilot. He knew of a port near by, where we might possibly gain shelter, and by his great skill we succeeded in arriving there; but it was neck or nothing. The smallest mismanagement and we should have been dashed on the rocks. As it was, we as near as possible ran on to them, owing to the anchor being let down too late; for the ship, in swinging round, drove towards them with appalling violence. The captain fell on his knees, and we all expected the ship to be dashed to pieces. She actually swung up to within three yards of the rocks, and there the anchor held us. We all drew a deep breath and thanked our stars. It had been a very near thing.