“Now all ready,” Miller said. “Hoist on the falls handsomely, inch by inch. Stand fast to those stay-ropes; that is right. Now haul her aft. Lower away a little forward and let her swing gradually aft; that does it. Now she is over the hatchway. Lower away a little aft. Let her go down, breech foremost; that will do. Now a dozen of you go down to the main deck. You go down with them, Mr. Tarleton, and steer her clear through the lower hatchway.”
Gradually the muzzle of the heavy gun sank below the deck, and in five minutes it was safely stowed in the bottom of the hold. Then the hatches were put on again and battened down securely, and Miller went aft.
“That is a good job, Miller,” Martyn said. “The sea is getting up fast, and in another five minutes it would not have been safe to do it. It will make all the difference to us in such a short choppy sea as we shall be having.”
For six hours the wind blew with unabated force. A heavy sea got up, and, buoyant as she was, the schooner shipped water heavily over the bow, the seas being too short to give her time to rise and fall regularly over them. At the end of that time the wind fell almost as suddenly as it had risen, and half an hour later the schooner was on her course again, with all her lower sails set. It was not until evening that the sea had gone down sufficiently for the passengers to begin to make their appearance again on deck, looking worn out and exhausted by sea-sickness.
By this time the schooner was among the islands, and was passing through the Mykonos Channel, between the island of that name and Tenos. Syra rose above the water almost ahead, while Rhenea and Delos lay on her beam to the south. Her topsails were set now, and she was running fast through the water, her course being laid to pass between Seriphos and Siphnos, beyond which it was a straight course to Cape Malea, at the southern point of the Morea. A sharp look-out was kept at night for Anti-Melos on the one hand, and Falconera on the other. The former was made out, the land being high; but Falconera, a mere rock, was passed unobserved. In the morning the schooner was running through the Cervi Channel, between Cythera and Cervi, which island almost touches the mainland. A quiet night’s rest had completely restored the passengers, who came on deck early, and watched with interest the rocky shore of the Morea as they coasted along it.
Three days later the Misericordia dropped her anchor in the harbour of Corfu.
Mr. Beveridge was again overwhelmed with thanks by the grateful Chiots. Upon the way they had inquired of him if he had a wife or daughters, and were quite disappointed at hearing that he had no near female relatives, as they had intended to send a consignment of choice stuffs and embroideries to them in token of their gratitude. Before landing they handed to Martyn a hundred pounds to be divided among the crew, and on the day after landing sent off a very handsome case of pistols to each of the officers. As their goods were being got up from the hold they pointed out four barrels which were to remain behind.
“We brought them off specially for you, Mr. Beveridge,” they said. “They are the very choicest vintage of Chios, and we do hope that though you have refused to accept any substantial proof of our gratitude, you will not refuse to take these.”
The decks of the Misericordia seemed curiously still and deserted after the departure of their guests. It had been a very pleasant week while the Chiots had been on board, and Martyn and Miller both looked out of spirits, having temporarily lost their hearts to two of the Greek girls.