“I am going to put out the fire so that the light won’t show on your sails, and in a minute or two I am going to open fire heavily to cover the rattle of the chains. Directly you hear us begin let go the anchor; don’t answer.”
Horace was standing by the fire, and he at once scattered the brands and threw sand over them. Martyn ran up to the front of the position and shouted, “Open fire!” and the rattle of musketry broke out all round the screen. The Turks, surprised at the sudden din, and fearing that a sortie was going to be made, replied briskly, and for four or five minutes the fire was maintained. Horace down on the shore heard the rattle of the anchor chain and the creaking of the blocks, followed shortly by the sound of the tackle as the boats were lowered.
“Please muffle the oars, Mr. Miller!” he shouted, and the answering hail came across the water. Twelve of the sailors came down from their posts to assist with the boats, and in three or four minutes there was a slight splash of oars, and the four boats of the schooner ran gently ashore.
“All well, I hope?” Tom Burdett asked as he jumped out.
“All well, Tom, with the exception of about half a dozen slightly wounded.”
“Thank God!” the boatswain said. “I tell you we felt mighty sore at having to run away and leave you just at daybreak this morning, and you can’t tell how glad we were when we caught sight of the fire first and then made out the popping of the guns. Have you got the Greeks out, Mr. Horace?”
“Yes, there are over five hundred of them here.”
“My eye!” the sailor said, “that is something like a cargo.”
“I have got twelve men here, Tom. That will give you four and a helmsman to each boat with what you have got. Has Marco come ashore with you?”
“Yes, Mr. Horace. I thought I might be useful if you had got the Christians with you.”