A sign for the living, a shroud for the dead.
“It must remain here,” said Justinian proudly; “once the English flag has been brought to the front, it cannot retreat.”
“Let us hoist it by all means,” replied Maurice cheerfully; “but, remember, only seven Englishmen fight under its folds.”
“Well, I guess, Mr. Roylands, half a dozen Englishmen are worth fifty Greeks!” cried Dick, with great confidence. “Once we get that Union Jack up, and I’d like to see who’d pull it down.”
It was early morning, and they were talking about the flag which Helena had brought down on the previous day. As the bulk of their army consisted of Melnosians, who did not understand the sacred feeling with which it was regarded by the English, Maurice thought it hardly worth while to plant it on the palisade; but the Demarch, in spite of his independent sovereignty, was patriotic to the core of his brave old heart, and, with a touch of sentiment, insisted that the attack should be repelled under the unconquered banner. Maurice therefore humored his uncle, and agreed to his wish, so the five sailors planted a stout pole just inside the barricade, and in a few minutes the flag of England was floating proudly at the mouth of the gorge.
As yet the enemy had made no move, so Justinian had plenty of time to complete his defensive preparations. In spite of her father’s veto, Helena, mindful of Maurice’s instructions regarding broken glass, had come down at dawn with her women, all bearing bottles, crockery, and earthen jars, which were speedily smashed to atoms and strewn plentifully on the ground between the mine and the barrier. Alexandros had his battery in good working order, and had ensconced himself behind a rock some little distance away, from which, on being signalled to by the Demarch, he could explode the mine at the proper time. The Melnosians had managed to snatch a few hours’ sleep, and, encouraged by their victory of the previous day, were ready for the fight, so a sense of great hopefulness was diffused among the valiant little garrison. What with the mine to blow up the enemy, the broken glass to cut their bare feet,—no ineffective defence,—the guns ready loaded to sweep them down as they swarmed up, and the stern determination of the defenders to fight to the bitter end, Justinian felt that, in spite of being outnumbered, he would be able to hold the island until the return of Crispin with re-enforcements. The more perilous became the position, the higher arose the spirits of the defenders, especially those of the sailors, on whose patriotic feelings the presence of their country’s flag had a wonderfully inspiring effect.
“Now then, Helena,” said her father, when all preparations were complete, “you had better return to the Acropolis with the women.”
“Very well, father; but I will be very anxious for your safety.”
“What about me?” asked Maurice reproachfully.
“Oh, you’ve got your talisman,” she replied, with an attempt at lightness, “so you will be quite safe; but I am not so sure about father.”