“What on earth are they putting up a battery here for?” Miller said. “At this distance they might as well fire potatoes at the citadel. Ask that officer, Horace, what they are up to?”
The Greek replied that they were going to run their trenches forward against the citadel from this point.
“Well, then, they are fonder of work than I gave them credit for,” Miller said when he understood the reply. “If the whole of them were to set to work in earnest, it would take them a month to run their trenches from here up to the citadel, and, at the rate at which they are working now, it would take them a couple of years.”
Returning to the town Mr. Beveridge called upon Lykourgos, who had taken up his quarters in the bishop’s palace. The Greek received him with an air of much greater pomposity than he had shown at their first meeting. He evidently believed that the work was almost accomplished, and that he was already the conqueror of the island.
“I have been doing some good work this morning,” he said. “I have deposed the Demogeronts (the Municipal Council). You know they were poor creatures and lukewarm, and I have appointed a Revolutionary Committee.”
“Indeed!” Mr. Beveridge said gravely. “And what military work have you in hand? It seems to me that the men would be much better employed in working at the batteries than in idling about the streets.”
“The citadel will soon fall,” Lykourgos said loftily. “Cut off from all succour and surrounded by my army they must speedily surrender.”
“Undoubtedly they must, if they were so situated,” Mr. Beveridge said; “but, so far as I see, there is nothing whatever to prevent the Turks from sending reinforcements from the mainland.”
“I am writing to ask the government at Corinth to order the fleet here to blockade the island and oppose the Turkish fleet when they come in sight.”