“You led us to the shore. You had covenanted with the Admirals to betray us!”
“Right—oh!” came a long-drawn shout from the shore. “Can we take you on board, Colonel?”
Then the wounded were safe. Wylie sent back a ringing “No, thanks. Good night!” putting his hands to his mouth, and turned again to his accusers. But their attention had been diverted from him for the moment.
“Europeans—here!” was the cry, and for an instant there was every prospect of a stampede. The bombardment of the afternoon had left its mark. But in the silence the sound of the pinnace’s engine as she steamed away was distinctly audible, and it was obviously retreating.
“Glafko’s friends came to rescue him,” suggested some one. “They are frightened, and have gone away.” The inference was clear. Glafko was defenceless; and the rush of accusations came shrill and confused. Maurice and Wylie were agents of the Powers for betraying the insurgents to Roum. They were agents of Roum for betraying them to the Powers. They were escaped criminals, who had excited such violent resentment in the breasts of the Powers that their presence among the innocent Emathians brought down punishment upon them also. The various charges clashed hopelessly, but the general result was universally accepted. Wylie had been instrumental in inducing the guileless insurgents to expect the sympathy of the Powers, and had led them to expose themselves to a treacherous attack. Defence was as useless as it would have been inaudible, for the insurgents were as ready to forget as they had shown themselves unable to appreciate the many warnings they had received against relying on the support of Europe. A man who had seen Wylie set off for the fleet this evening added his testimony, and another, one of his unwilling helpers, told how the Roumi wounded had been carefully tended and laid in one place, from which they had now been removed. Quite half the crowd immediately went to verify this last fact, and returned to add fresh curses to those already raining upon Wylie. No one had as yet ventured to lay hands upon him, and he had not drawn his revolver, but he was anxiously calculating his chances. The party at the monastery ought to be warned, for Maurice would not dream of mutiny on the part of his own men. If he fired now, he must fire to kill, and that would hardly improve matters, but who was there to whom he could entrust a message with any hope of its being delivered?
It was Wylie’s salvation on this occasion that the ascendency he had established even over the men who disliked him was so strong that no one cared to strike the first blow, and also that his back was defended by the barricade. The men who shouted most loudly against him were those on the outskirts of the crowd, and they made no attempt to go beyond words, though one stone flung towards him would have been the signal for a storm. Nor did they offer any opposition when Prince Romanos pushed his way through them, and placed himself at Wylie’s side.
“What is this?” he cried.
A dozen voices answered him, repeating the various accusations. He raised his hand in silence.
“This behaviour is unworthy of free men—of patriots,” he said loudly. “For weeks we have warned you that there was no help to be looked for from the Powers. Their great war-vessels are hemming us in for the express purpose of keeping away from us friends and supplies, and watching our dying agonies. Prince Theophanis and Colonel Wylie are not likely to obtain any sympathy from England; rather their love for Emathia has brought her displeasure upon them. We have only one friend in all Europe, and that is not one of the Great Powers. My unhappy country stands aside, longing to assist her brothers, but bound hand and foot. She has suffered too sorely already for her sympathy to dare to disregard the threats now showered upon her. Sons of Emathia, you bear me no malice because my country cannot help you. Then why accuse Prince Theophanis of treachery because his country helps Roum? He and I are alike powerless.”
Wylie listened with startled attention. Put in this way, there was a considerable difference between the attitude of Morea and that of the European Concert, and he could hardly expect that the Emathians would fail to see it. That they did not miss the point was shown by a voice from the back which called out, “Romanos for Prince!” and the approving shout which greeted the words. Prince Romanos silenced the voices again.