Although both these had enjoyed their trip greatly, and had made a comfortable sum in pay and prize-money, both preferred to return to the Royal Navy, if they could do so, rather than remain in a yacht; and Mr. Beveridge promised to use his influence as soon as he returned to get them appointed to ships. This promise he was able to fulfil a few weeks after his arrival at home.

For home cruising as a yacht, Martyn considered that Tom Burdett would be sufficient for him. If she again went out to Greece there would be no difficulty in obtaining other officers and making up the crew to its full strength. Portsmouth had been chosen instead of Plymouth as their point of arrival, because from there Mr. Beveridge could much more easily get up to town, Dr. Macfarlane insisting that he should go up to obtain the best medical advice.

"But there is nothing the matter with me," Mr. Beveridge had urged.

"That is just it, sir. If you had anything the matter with you I might have a chance of curing it. It is because I can't see any reason why you do not gain strength that I want other opinion about you."

The doctor had frequently talked it over with Horace during the voyage.

"I can see nothing bodily the matter with your father, Horace. I wish I could. There is nothing to account for his being in this feeble state. All that he says is that he feels tired. My opinion is that really this is a sort of reaction after mental excitement, just as there is reaction after great bodily fatigue. Your father has lived a smooth, easy, tranquil life, and the change, the excitement, the worry, and his utter disappointment with the Greeks themselves, have had the same sort of effect upon him as a climb up to the top of Ben Nevis might have on a man who did not stir out of his house for months together. As for that being the cause I have no doubt whatever. It is as to the cure that I want to consult with some big-wig. I don't know whether quiet or movement would be the best for him. He could have had no quiet more complete than that he has had on the way home, and yet it has done him no good. If he were to go down home the inducement to arouse himself would be still less. But what sort of change would really suit him is more than I can say."

Horace thoroughly agreed with the doctor. If even the cheerful society on board the yacht did not rouse his father, he dreaded what it would be when he was at home, with no one to stir him up in any way. There were two or three consultations in town with some of the leaders of the profession. After hearing the whole circ.u.mstances they were unanimous in agreeing that there seemed no serious disease of any kind, but at the same time his condition gave cause of anxiety.

"Your patient is evidently a man of highly nervous organization, and at present his nerves are a wreck. We quite agree with you that were he to go down to a lonely house in the country he would probably sink into the grave in a few months at the outside. If you could get him to go in that yacht of his on some expedition in which he feels what I may call a healthy interest, it might do him good. I should say a cold climate would be better for him than a warm one. He has had more than enough of that enervating work in Greek waters. Try and interest him in Polar expeditions. There have been a great many of them just lately. Ross and Parry and Franklin have all been trying their best to find the North-west Pa.s.sage, which is not likely to be of any good if they do find it; but that is nothing to the point. Get him interested in the matter, and let him go and poke about for a bit among the icebergs. If you can get him to do that we see no reason why in time his mind should not recover its tone."

The matter had to be done cautiously. Horace professed a vast interest in the recent expeditions; the doctor was full of interesting facts, and little by little they kindled an interest on the subject in Mr.

Beveridge's mind; and when Horace broke out one day, as if the idea had only just struck him, "My dear father, why shouldn't we go up north in the yacht for a few months and become explorers? It would be glorious to see the icebergs and to shoot bears and seals, and would be a splendid change for us all. I am sure you would find it frightfully dull going back to Seaport,"--he did not entirely repudiate the idea, but said that he should not like to go away when things were looking so dark for Greece. Fortunately, a week later the news came that all the immense preparations the Sultan had been making for an invasion of Greece with a great army had been arrested by a tremendous fire, supposed to be the work of the janissaries, who did not like the prospect of leaving Constantinople. The fire had destroyed all the vast stores collected, the artillery, baggage-trains, and munitions of war of all kinds, and it was probable that at least a year would pa.s.s before a fresh effort could be made.

This news evidently relieved Mr. Beveridge's mind, and when Horace, backed by Macfarlane, returned to the charge, he at once consented.

Martyn was written to by Horace the same day. He at once came up to town, and saw some of the officers who had been out with Franklin and Parry. Returning to Plymouth, where the _Creole_ was lying, a body of shipwrights were at once set to work to strengthen her by a network of timber below, and to sheath her with thick planking outside. The captain of a whaler was engaged as first officer. He was to come on board at Dundee, and to bring with him twelve picked hands accustomed to the Polar Seas. With great exertion the schooner was got ready in a month.

By this time the enthusiasm expressed by Horace and the doctor in the matter had infected Mr. Beveridge, who read up everything that had been written on the subject, and was visibly very much better by the time they went down with him to Portsmouth to join the _Creole_ there.

They were away from England eighteen months. They made no discoveries of the slightest importance, but they had numerous exciting adventures, had many narrow escapes of being nipped by icebergs, and pa.s.sed a winter frozen up in Baffin's Bay. The voyage achieved the object for which it was undertaken. The subject of Greece was a forbidden one, and Mr. Beveridge came to take a lively interest in the new scenes with which he was surrounded, joined in the hunting parties, took a prominent part in all the amus.e.m.e.nts got up for keeping the crew in good spirits and health through the winter, and returned to England a more healthy and vigorous man than Horace had ever before seen him. The _Creole_ had taken out with her barrels and all other appurtenances for whaling, and having been fairly successful in that way, returned with sufficient oil and seal-skins to pay the greater part of her expenses.

"I feel another man, Horace, to what I was when I started," Mr.

Beveridge said as he stepped ash.o.r.e at Plymouth.

"You look a different man, father--a different man altogether to what you have been since I first remember you. I don't suppose you have grown, but you are so much more upright that you look as if you had, and you walk differently, and even your voice seems changed. Now, you know, you must not go back again."

"I don't mean to, my boy. It seems to me that I have thrown away twenty years of my life, and what there is remaining to me shall be spent differently. Now we have got a long arrear of news to get up."

Horace felt at first uneasy when his father obtained a complete file of the newspapers from the time they had left England, and read up the history of affairs in Greece. There was, however, little to learn. Two civil wars had taken place, some large loans had been raised in England, but had been entirely frittered away and wasted; and when in June, 1824, the Turkish fleet had at last sailed, the Greeks had been as unprepared for resistance as they were when they first took up arms. Kasos and Psara had both been captured and their inhabitants either ma.s.sacred or carried away into slavery, while the sailors of Hydra and Spetzas had not moved a hand to succour their countrymen.

Ibrahim Pasha of Egypt had sent an army to Greece, and had besieged Navarino and Pylos. The Greek army had advanced to relieve them, but being attacked by half their number of Egyptian troops were routed without the least difficulty at Krommydi. They were beaten again at Sphakteria, and Pylos and Navarino were forced to surrender; the Egyptians observing faithfully the terms they granted, and allowing the garrisons to depart in neutral ships. Dikaios was defeated and killed at Maniaki, having been deserted by all his troops but fifteen hundred. These fought splendidly although attacked by six thousand men. A thousand of them died on the field after having killed four hundred of their a.s.sailants. This was by far the most gallant affair throughout the war. Kolokotronis a.s.sembled ten thousand men, but was defeated with the greatest ease with the loss of over two hundred men, most of whom were killed in their flight.

When the _Creole_ returned to England the siege of Missolonghi had begun. Reshid Pasha's army, ten thousand strong, sat down before it.

It was defended with extreme gallantry and resisted for many months, while the rest of Greece did little to a.s.sist it. After six months'

siege Reshid retired, being straitened for provisions and suffering from the vigorous sorties of the besieged; but in a short time Ibrahim arrived with his army and again besieged the place; throwing up formidable batteries and works against it. Several times terms were offered to the garrison, but were contemptuously refused, and several attacks were beaten off with great loss. At last the provisions were absolutely exhausted.

The brave defenders of the town resolved upon a step almost unexampled in history, namely, that the whole of the men should sally out, placing the women and children in their centre, and cut their way through the enemy. There were still nine thousand persons in the town, of whom only three thousand were men capable of bearing arms, two thousand men, women, and children were too weak from starvation and disease to join the movement; the rest were divided into three divisions. Most of the women dressed themselves in men's clothing and carried arms, and even the children had loaded pistols. Unfortunately the Turks had been informed by a deserter that the attempt was about to be made.

The three divisions, in spite of the opposition of the Turks, attacked with such fury that they made their way through the lines of the enemy; but the people of Missolonghi itself, who were to form the fourth division and follow the others, were seized with a panic and fell back into the town. Had the Greeks outside fulfilled their promise, and moved forward a body of troops stationed a short distance away to receive the defenders of the place when they reached the open country, all the rest would have been saved; but instead of the fifteen hundred who were to have met them, but fifty were there. The Turkish cavalry and the Albanians hara.s.sed and cut them up, and even those who gained the shelter of the hills received no a.s.sistance from the irregulars, and many perished from hunger and disease, and finally only fifteen hundred escaped. The soldiers left behind in Missolonghi either by wounds or sickness intrenched themselves in stone buildings, and there defended themselves till the last, blowing up the magazines and dying in the ruins when they could no longer hold out. Four thousand Greeks were killed, three thousand were taken prisoners, chiefly women and children, and two thousand altogether escaped. The Acropolis of Athens resisted stoutly for a long time, but at last fell. The Greeks were defeated in almost every action upon which they entered, and affairs went from bad to worse, until the European governments at last determined to interfere; and their united fleets destroyed that of the Turks at the battle of Navarino, and forced Turkey to grant the independence of Greece.

As these events happened Mr. Beveridge followed their course with interest, but it was only with the interest shown by Englishmen in general. His personal feeling in the matter had entirely left him.

During the last four years of the struggle there was no sign whatever that misfortune and disaster had had any effect in inducing the Greeks to lay aside their personal jealousies and ambitions, or to make any common effort against the enemy. The large sums they had received from the loans raised for the most part in England were spent in the most unworthy uses. They covered their uniforms with gold lace, and the dress of the men on foot often cost fifty pounds; those of hors.e.m.e.n ten times that amount. They affected all through to despise the Turks, and yet, except the fifteen hundred men under Dikaios and the defenders of Missolonghi, they never once opposed anything like an obstinate resistance to them, and the last show of resistance was almost crushed out when the intervention of Europe saved them.

The _Creole_ had been laid up after her return from the Arctic Seas.

Mr. Beveridge had purchased a large share in a fine East Indiaman, making the proviso that Martyn should be appointed to the command, he himself buying a share in her with the money he had earned during the four years' service on board the schooner. Mr. Beveridge had, to the immense satisfaction of his aunt, Mrs. Fordyce, entirely abandoned the study of Greek, devoted himself to the affairs of his estate, became an active magistrate, and had, three years after his return, stood for Parliament as member for the county, and had won the seat. Horace was twenty when they returned from the north. He had a long talk with his father as to his future prospects and career. He was too old now to take up the thread of his studies again or to go to the university, and he finally determined, at the advice of his father, to study for the bar.

"You will never have any occasion to practise, Horace, but a few months every year in London will make a pleasant change for you; and as you may look to be a county magistrate some day you will find a knowledge of the law very useful to you. You will be in London five or six months every year, then you will have your shooting and hunting in the winter, and we will have two or three months' cruise together in the _Creole_. I find that our expedition in Greece cost me, one way and another, just fifteen thousand pounds, which is a good deal less than I should have thrown away if it had not been for your advice. I hear that it is likely that Sir James Hobhouse's estate will be in the market before long, and I think, as it almost adjoins ours, I shall buy it. I fancy that I shall get it for about thirty thousand pounds.

That I should settle on you at once. I am not fifty yet, and feel that I have more life in me than I ever had, and I don't want you to be waiting another twenty or thirty years to step into my shoes. Its management will be an occupation for you, and then you can marry whenever you feel inclined."

This happened four years later; it arose out of a meeting at a dinner party in London. Horace had taken down a very pretty girl to whom he had just been introduced. He thought that she looked at him rather curiously when his name was mentioned. They chatted on all sorts of subjects during dinner, and when the ladies arose to go she said: "Please find me out when you come upstairs. I have a question I particularly want to ask you, but I could not very well do it here.

Please do not forget, for it is important." A good deal puzzled Horace made his way upstairs as soon as he could and saw that the girl was with another lady sitting in a quiet corner of the drawing-room. He crossed to them at once. "Mother," the young lady said, "this is Mr.

Beveridge."

"You are right, Ada," the lady said, rising and holding out her hand, "I recognize him at once now I see him. Oh, Mr. Beveridge, you do not know how we have longed to see you again, and you don't know us, do you?"

"No, I can't say that I do, madam," Horace replied, more and more astonished.

"I am the lady you saved from being sold as a slave at Algiers when you captured the ship we were in off the coast of Asia Minor. This is my daughter. No wonder you don't remember us for I was a strange-looking creature in that Greek dress, and Ada was but a child."

"I remember you now, Mrs. Herbert," Horace exclaimed. "I ought to have done so before, as we were four or five days on board together."

"You must have thought us so ungrateful," Mrs. Herbert said; "but we were not so; we never knew where to write to when you were out in Greece. Then two or three years afterwards we heard from someone who had been out there that you had returned, and my husband, who left Smyrna and came back to England after we got back, made all sorts of inquiries, and found out at last that you had gone away again on an Arctic expedition. Then he went out to Malta, where we have been living for the last three years, and only returned a month ago to England. My husband had to return to Smyrna; he had large business connections there that could not be broken off suddenly. Nothing could induce me ever to return there, but it was an easy run for him to Malta, and he was able to come and stay with us for a week or so every two or three months. For the last year he was training the son of the senior partner of the house to take his place at Smyrna, and he himself has now come back altogether, as Mr. Hamblyn has now retired, and he is the head of the firm. He is not here to-night, but will be delighted to hear that we have found you."

"We have been back three years," Horace said.

"Of course we did not know that you were in England. It has been a great grief to us. It seemed so extraordinary that after being saved by you from the most awful of all fates you should have disappeared out of our life as suddenly as you came into it. Of course it was not much to you--you who saved so many hundreds, we heard afterwards thousands of women and girls from slavery; but to us it was everything. And your father, Mr. Beveridge, is he quite well?"

"Yes, he is far better than I have ever known him to be. I am going down next week to help him; he is going to stand for our part of the county for Parliament. There is a vacancy there, and I fancy that he has a very good chance."

"Is he, indeed? He did not give me the idea of being a man who would have cared for that sort of thing. Of course we only saw him just for those four days."

"I am happy to say that he has changed very much since then. He came home very ill from Greece, but our eighteen months among the ice entirely set him up and made a new man of him. I am sure he will be very pleased when he hears that I have met you. And did you recognize me at once, Miss Herbert?"

"The name helped me," the girl said. "When I heard it I felt sure it was you at once. It was very hard work sitting there talking to you as if you were a stranger."

"Why did you not tell me at once?" Horace asked smiling.

She did not answer, but her mother said for her: "You can't tell how we felt about you and your father, Mr. Beveridge, or you would not ask the question. The chances are that if Ada had told you who she was she would have burst out crying. She told me it was as much as she could do to restrain herself; and I think we have both had a quiet cry in this corner since we came upstairs. Now, please give me your address in town?"

"I have chambers in Mitre Court Temple, No. 3."

"My husband will call to see you the first thing in the morning, I am sure. Mr. Beveridge and you must dine with us quietly to-morrow, so that we can talk it all over. You are not, I hope, engaged."

Horace was not engaged, but if he had been he would probably have thrown it over.

Under these circ.u.mstances it was not very much to wonder at that a few months later the _Morning Post_ contained this announcement:--"We understand that a marriage has been arranged between Mr. Horace Beveridge, the son of Mr. H. Beveridge, M. P., and Ada, only child of Mr. Herbert, of Bedford Square, the head of the firm of Herbert & Sandeson, the well-known firm of Levant merchants. We understand the acquaintance of Mr. Beveridge with the young lady he is now about to lead to the altar commenced under singularly romantic circ.u.mstances in the Levant six years ago."

On the day after their marriage Horace and his wife sailed to spend their honeymoon among the fiords of Norway and in the Baltic on board the _Creole_. She was commanded by Miller, whose ship had been paid off a month previously, and Tarleton, whose frigate belonged to the Channel squadron, obtained three months' leave to sail in her as first officer. Macfarlane was with them for a fortnight, not being able to get away for a longer time from the practice in which he had purchased a partnership at Plymouth. Tom Burdett went, of course, in his old capacity; but this was his last trip in her though he long remained the commander of the _Surf_, which was always kept in commission at Seaport, and in which Horace's boys and girls learned to love the sea as much as did their father.

THE END