A few hours after they were taken on board they heard the anchor run up, and could soon tell by the ripple of the water against the planks that they were under weigh. All hope now left them, and they had passed a terrible six days, overcome by despair, and half suffocated by the foul air of the hold. Hope had again sprung up when a gun was fired overhead, and it was soon evident that the vessel was engaged in an encounter with an enemy. At last the firing ceased, then there was a sound of shouting and the clashing of swords on the deck above their heads. Presently the hatchways had been opened and a Greek had come down and told them that the vessel had been captured from the Turks, and that they were free. She fancied that she heard English voices, but until she had reached the deck and saw the faces and uniforms of the sailors, she thought that she must be mistaken. After that she remembered no more until she heard the doctor’s voice.
“I am rejoiced indeed that I have been enabled to save you and your daughter from the horrors of slavery,” Mr. Beveridge said. “We have had the pleasure of rescuing many hundreds of Greek women and children from the hands of the Turks, but I never expected to find a countrywoman among them. This cabin will be at your disposal, except that we must, I fear, take our meals here. The cabin adjoining will be wholly yours. In the course of a week I hope to land you at Corfu, thence you will be able to write to your husband and arrange either for joining him again at Smyrna, or taking a passage for England, which would, I should think in the present state of things, be the wisest course. My purse will be entirely at your disposal. I am the owner of this schooner, which is called the Misericordia, and although we fight under the Greek flag, and have come out to assist them to obtain their independence, we are principally devoting ourselves to saving the unhappy victims of this war.”
The lady, whose name was Mrs. Herbert, expressed her deep gratitude, and Mr. Beveridge at once took possession of Miller’s cabin, as the lieutenant would, he had no doubt, remain in charge of the prize. When the capture was made, the schooner was some eighty miles to the east of Rhodes, and after talking the matter over with Miller, Martyn decided to land the Algerines on Caxo, an islet lying some fifty miles to the south-west of Rhodes. Miller and Tarleton were for the present to continue on board the prize. The prisoners, forty-eight in number, were transferred into the schooner. The next evening they arrived off Caxo, where the Algerines were landed in boats. Martyn then went on board the polacca.
“I have been thinking, Miller, that as we seem to have frightened all the Turks into remaining in port for the present, I will leave you and Tarleton on board the polacca, and give you twenty men and let you cruise on your own account, while we take these women and children round to the Ionian Isles. We will shift two of the eighteen-pounders on board this craft. No one will suspect you, and you will have a good chance of picking up some more prizes, while the sight of our white sails sends everything running into port as far off as they can be seen. We can rendezvous here again this day fortnight.”
“I should like that very much,” Miller said, “and I think it is a capital plan. I must ask Mr. Beveridge to let me have Marco, or I shall have no means of making myself understood either by Turk or Greek.”
A fortnight later the schooner returned to the island. She had had rough weather for the last three days of her voyage, but the sky had now cleared again.
“There is the island,” Martyn said, as Horace came up at six o’clock in the morning to take charge of the watch, for he had now command of the starboard watch, and Tom Burdett had the port. “There is the island, but there is no sign of the polacca yet. I wonder Miller is not here first. If we had been having calms I should not have been the least surprised at his not turning up, but with this strong southerly wind there is no reason why he should not have been here. Go up to the main-top, Horace, and take a look round.”
But Horace could see no sail in sight.
“You are not uneasy about Miller surely,” Mr. Beveridge said at breakfast, seeing that Martyn was not in his usual spirits.