In Greek Waters: A Story of the Grecian War of Independence

by G. A. Henty

“Now,” Martyn said to the Greek fighting men, “on one point my orders are distinct. Not a shot is to be fired until we reach the trees. Firing would be no good whatever; it would be a loss of time, and your guns would be empty just when you want them; besides, you would be as likely to shoot those in front of you as the enemy. All you have got to do is to follow me closely until you get into the olive grove, then scatter and clear it of the Turks; but don’t go a foot beyond them in pursuit. Directly it is clear let each man take up his station behind a tree at its edge, and defend himself there until the order is given to fall back.”

Zaimes translated the order, then the sailors advanced to the wall, from which the lower stones had been removed as far as was safe. “Now put your shoulders to it, my hearties, and heave all together. One, two, three; now!”

The walls shook as the sailors flung themselves against it. “It is going. Now another try.” There was a shout as the wall toppled over. Then with a cheer the sailors sprang forward, led by Martyn, dashed over the fragments of the wall and down the steep rock, the Greeks pouring after them in a confused mass, and then the whole dashed across the flat cultivated ground towards the olive grove. As Martyn had foretold, not a shot was fired until they were nearly half-way across, though loud shouts of alarm were heard, then a straggling fire was opened; but the enemy were evidently too flurried and alarmed to take aim. Without a check the sailors ran on, cutlass in hand, but the Turks did not await the attack. Outnumbered and surprised they had no sooner fired than they dashed away among the trees to join their companions right and left, and the olive grove was deserted when the sailors entered.

“That will do, lads!” Martyn shouted. “Leave the Greeks to hold the wood. Sheath your cutlasses and unsling your rifles. Come back with me to help the others; keep back the enemy in the open.”

There was, however, no occasion for assistance. The women, instead of waiting, had followed close behind the flanking parties, and were already coming into the wood. By the time Martyn joined the flanking parties the women had all passed, while Horace and Jones were just beginning to fall back with their commands. By this time the valley rang with shouts and cries, and guns were being aimlessly discharged, but the sailors were back in the olive grove before the Turks had mustered strongly enough to think of advancing. The sailors lay down in the intervals between the trees, and as soon as the enemy began to advance a heavy fire was opened upon them, the twelve rifles telling with deadly effect. The Turks on the opposite side of the valley instead of advancing at once to the assistance of their comrades, made a rush at the village as soon as they perceived that it was no longer defended, thinking for the moment much more of plunder than of attacking the retiring Greeks, while the parties who had begun to advance towards the wood rapidly retired again before the heavy fire opened upon them.

“Go round and stop those Greeks firing, Horace; the fools are simply wasting their ammunition,” Martyn said savagely as the Greeks continued to blaze away when the enemy were already out of range of their guns. Horace hurried off one way and Zaimes the other, and in a minute or two the firing ceased. As it did so the report of guns could be heard on the hill above them.

“That is Tarleton’s party at work,” Martyn said to Mr. Beveridge. “Of course the Turks have seen the women mounting the hill, and I suppose some of them were beginning to climb up to cut them off. Tarleton’s fire will stagger them a bit.” From the shouts in the valley it was evident that the enemy were gathering for a serious attack. Horace had returned to Martyn’s side.

“Now, Horace, do you take ten of the men and ascend the path half-way up the hill. Post five of them on each side of it to act as flanking parties. Zaimes, do you tell your countrymen it is time for us to be off. We must get well up the hillside before these fellows make their rush. Mr. Beveridge, will you make your way up the path at once. These Greeks are as active as goats, and I should recommend you to be pushing on to get a start of them.”

In a couple of minutes the entire party had left the wood and were mounting the path, Martyn and his sailors forming the rear-guard. The Greeks sprang up the path with such speed that the sailors, active as they were, had hard work to keep near them. Mr. Beveridge was speedily overtaken.

“Jones, you take Mr. Beveridge’s rifle; and do you, Hawkins and Baldock, help him along. Make haste, lads! we shall have a storm of bullets coming up after us in no time;” for as soon as the fugitives appeared on the path above the level of the tree-tops a loud shout had broken from the enemy, and it was certain they would soon be upon them. So rapidly, however, was the ascent made that Martyn and the sailors reached the spot where Horace with his party had taken up his position before a shot rang out from below. There was a slight shoulder on the hillside at this point, and lying down here the men were sheltered from the fire below.