Now we could perceive the land distant about a mile; the shore was green and fertile; to the eastward rose the towers of an old fortified town, the domes and tall slender minarets of which were glittering in the sun. A little lower down lay a promontory covered with ruins. To the westward was a cape, under the lee of which were a number of Levantine craft with long lateen-yards that tapered away aloft, and their striped or brown shoulder-of-mutton sails, creeping out from the creeks and inlets where they had found shelter during the squall of the past night.
The carpenter reported, that without powerful assistance, there was no possibility of getting the ship off, and as no British, French, or Sardinian steamer was in sight, Crank stamped about the deck in a high state of mental excitement and irritation, while fear of Greek pirates and Natolian robbers, whose armed boats are ever on the prowl in these seas, made Catanagh, at his suggestion, order our men to accoutre and parade with their arms and ammunition on deck, where an inspection was made, and our two hundred Highlanders were found to be in complete fighting order.
'What say you now, Captain?' asked Catanagh; 'do you know the coast?'
'Only too well, Major—it is Roumelia, and we are in the gulf of Salonica.'
'That town on the promontory—'
'Is Heraclea, with the ruins of some old devilish Greek place close by.'
'Then we are on classic ground?'
'Damned deal too classic for my taste!' grumbled Crank; 'we are ashore, sir, on the Palegrossa rocks.'
'Is there a Turkish garrison in Heraclea?'
'Undoubtedly, for there is a population of about seven thousand—principally fishermen—and the town is fortified.'