"God forbid there should be a slower than you," she said, with a tone of calm despair. "Yet you have seen that ship before."
"The Revenge!"
"Certainly; the Revenge! She has come far quicker than I expected. It seems to me an omen of good. She will be here by the morning of the Noël. Come, lad, we will go back. To-morrow I shall be down again very early. Let us have breakfast in the custom-house, where we dined to-day, and get in good work in the morning."
Soon after sunset the wind dropped, and the wings of the Revenge shivered, and were still. But all night the boats were manned, and slowly in relays the tired men towed her; for in passing Lepanto they had been seen and fired at, and though the shot passed them harmlessly, they saw, emerging from the gate, a large body of armed men, some mounted, but the most on foot. All that afternoon they had watched them going eastward, and when evening fell, and they lay becalmed, the last they saw in the sunset was the glittering lines of the horse-soldiers still going on, and now ahead of them, and nearer to Galaxidi than they, the foot some miles behind, but also going. For the Turks for once had been prompt and ingenious; they had heard it rumored that fortification work was going on at Galaxidi, and connecting the passing of an armed brig with it, had set out at once to see how truly rumor spoke and get to the town before the arrival of that trim and spiteful-looking ship.
It was a little after sunrise next morning that the Capsina went down to the custom-house, as was arranged, to breakfast with Mitsos. Day had dawned with an incomparable loveliness; it was the feast of Noël, and an extraordinary blitheness of soul was hers. The day before Mitsos had asked her what gift of the season he should bring her; six months ago she would not have wagered on her answer; now she had answered him with who knows what quiet and childish memories in her mind? Her thoughts flew like a honey-bee from one pleasant thing to another, gathering sweetness from all. Now it was the vision of Suleima, busy with the child and her household cares, which fed them; now the little Sophia, still asleep under that gray house-roof; now the harbor of Hydra; and now the sunlight, falling on a patch of hoar-covered grass, was a pleasant resting-place for the mind.
And Mitsos was up and waiting for her; he had even already made coffee, and from afar off she saw him standing bareheaded in the door of the custom-house, smoking the earliest pipe. He was forever smoking. She would speak to him about it, for Tombazes had said that perpetual smoking was death to the lung-pipes, whatever lung-pipes might be. Yet death seemed very remote from the image of Mitsos. She met him smiling, and they exchanged the old greeting, "May your Noël be peaceful and full of laughter," and, as if in instant fulfilment, the childish words set them both laughing.
"Breakfast is ready," said Mitsos, "and I have been waiting, oh, ever so long. Oh, Michael, may your Noël be peaceful at least, since you know not how to laugh. Come, Capsina."
Coffee and eggs were ready, and they sat and ate. The early sunlight threw a great yellow splash through the door on to the planks of the flooring. Michael occupied the whole of it.
"The Revenge is yet a mile out," said the Capsina, between mouthfuls. "I could see them rowing her; I wonder they should be so hurried. Yet perhaps they would keep Noël with us all together. I love the lads, all of them, every one."
"Then I will fight them, all of them, every one," remarked Mitsos.