CHAPTER I.

The isles of Greece! the isles of Greece!

Where burning Sappho loved and sung; Where grew the arts of war and peace, Where Phobus rose and Delos sprung-- Eternal summer gilds them yet, But all except their sun is set.

-BYRON.

IT was morning among the islands of Greece and the dark blue sea on every side showed not a ripple upon its bosom. The sky was as calm and peaceful as the water which reflects its azure hue, and not a cloud appeared to mar its surface. The sun just rising cast a broad gleam of light over the scene, and threw upon the wide sea a long path of ruddy light. Around lay the isles of Greece--the home of cla.s.sic poetry, whose trees and gentle brooks, whose groves and fields, whose very rocks and soil, bring up before the mind glorious memories of the past. There they lay, appearing double as their images were seen reflected in the mirror-like wave, the branches of their cl.u.s.tering trees hanging down gracefully--droopingly. But more glorious than all the lovely spots which dot these sparkling waves is Scio-the beautiful, the cla.s.sic Scio. Here were the remains of many a glorious temple of the ancients. Here were rich vineyards whose vine yielded the famous Chian wine. Here the long avenues of orange trees and olives, of citron and lemons, appeared on every side, and odorous breezes from the East, laden with perfumes of spices and flowers, blew ever gently upon the blest sh.o.r.es of Scio.

It was in the middle of the eighteenth century, when Scio was at the height of her glory and prosperity, when the people were wealthy and happy, and all was delight and pleasure-it was at such a time that a small vessel might have been seen at a short distance from her northern coast. Every st.i.tch of her broad latteen sails was unfurled, but no favorable wind came to fill them-no motion was in the air. Upon the south the green and richly wooded sh.o.r.es of Scio stretched along, upon which at times appeared the sheen of some marble cliff as it jutted out among the green vegetation.

The vessel was long and sharp. Two tall masts supported the broad triangular sails, and a red flag without device floated from the summit of the main; men appeared dressed in the Grecian costume lolling about the deck, some smoking, others talking, and others sleeping. At the stern the leader paced up and down. He was young, and had in his face all the high spirit and impetuous daring of youth. His features were perfectly Grecian, all as finely formed as those of some antique statue of his native land. A small fur cap was placed upon his head, from beneath which rich cl.u.s.ters of raven hair flowed down. His eyes were large and dark, and a jetty moustache and beard completed the manly expression of his countenance. He wore a rich crimson jacket, embroidered with gold, loose trousers with boots which reached to his knees, and a red silk scarf wound around his waist afforded a place where to put two pistols and a Turkish dagger. A larger sword dangled at his side, and in his hand he held a long light gun which, like his pistols, was richly ornamented after the oriental fashion.

"Maffeo," said he to his lieutenant, "how goes the wind now!"

"There is not any wind to go," said Maffeo, a strong and hardy man who was leaning over the side.

"Well, I think we will have a wind very soon."

"A wind? Do you? Why?"

"I feel it."

"You can always tell, I know not how, when there will be a wind. We are ready for it, however."

"Maffeo, what was that you heard about these cursed Turks, when you were ash.o.r.e?"

"Didn't I tell you? Well, I heard that they had landed upon Komao, a little island near--"

"I know it well."

"Where there were only a hundred inhabitants. Monilon, the princ.i.p.al man there, was seized, beaten, robbed, and the worst of it was, his daughter Iona was carried away."

"What! carried away? Iona! I have heard of her as the most beautiful of all Grecian girls."

"She is gone like many others to the slave market at Constantinople."

"Ah, the accursed hounds! the dogs of unbelievers! Thus they tyrannize over us, and rob our men, and carry off our virgins. But great Heaven, shall this be done longer? Ah, the wretches! Maffeo, this will make us whet our swords more readily upon the next Turks with whom we fight."

"Whew!, there comes the wind! see how it blows around yon rock."

"And by all the holy saints and angels, Maffeo, there is a Turkish vessel. Ha! two vessels. By heaven, there are three!" he cried, as one after another three vessels came borne by the wind around the point where it blew.

"How can we get off? We have no wind. They will be upon us.-See, each vessel is larger than ours, and the decks are crowded with armed men: See that long gun. It can shatter us to pieces!"

"Peace, Maffeo. Be not so fearful. The wind will come to us before they can get near enough to use that long piece. Halloa there! up my men! There are three Turkish ships behind us!"

With many an oath and imprecation, the sailors rose and hastily gathered their arms. One of them strung up at the foremast another flag, on which appeared a crescent beneath a cross.

"Now my brave men, we will have to run. But we do not always do so.

Perhaps the time will come when we may have our turn at chasing. If they come up, fight, fight like fiends, and die like Christians!"

Loud cheers arose and shouts of "Long live Ranadar! Long live our n.o.ble captain, the brave Ranadar!"

And now the wind which Ranadar had prophesied, came down to them. It blew steadily and strongly, so that in a short time her sharp prow dashed the bright waves foamingly on either side. The Turkish vessels who had borne down toward the corsair, as soon as they saw him, and had felt certain of seizing him, now uttered cries of disappointment, as they saw him move away. Loud cries were sent across the water, shouts of ridicule and opprobrious names which the wind bore along to their ears.

Ranadar looked back and shook his scimetar at the Turkish vessels.

"Howl on! The time will come when you will tremble before me-Ranadar, the corsair!"

He cried so loudly, that they seemed to have heard him, for suddenly a shot came from the long gun, but it fell short, far short of the mark. The men of Ranadar shouted in derision, and jerked the flag whenever appeared the humiliated crescent, so as to attract the notice of the Turks.

Ranadar gazed anxiously upon his pursuers. Still they came bounding over the waves behind him, and his quick eye could not but see that the distance between them was gradually lessened.

"Maffeo, they are coming up to us."

"What, can a Turkish vessel equal our swift ship?"

"These are sharp, and see what huge sails they carry. I fear they will come up with us."

"Well, we will fight them-yes, all three!"

"Good, Maffeo. You are a brave man. Tell this not to the men for a time, yet."

Ranadar watched more anxiously. The hours of day pa.s.sed on, and midday arrived. Though his own bark was swift, yet these were evidently more so. At morning, the foremost was about two miles off.

Now not more than a mile separated them.

"Before night it will all be up. O the scoundrelly Sciotes! Why did they not give notice of this?" and Ranadar walked anxiously about.

"Men," he cried at last. "Ho, there! Listen. We are lost. These Turks will overtake us. But who will think of yielding? None?"

"No, no, none," cried the men.

"Then let us fight. Prepare a train, and when all is ready, when our decks are full-then fire, and blow these Infidels to perdition! We will make the Turks remember us, and when they pursue another corsair they will tremble, for they shall think of Ranadar the corsair." In obedience to his orders the train was prepared, but as it would be some time before their pursuers would come up to them, they did not make any preparation for soon firing it.

Three hours more pa.s.sed, and now the nearest ship had arrived within gunshot. The long gun was loaded after some trouble, and pointed directly at the corsair vessel. Ranadar and his men cried out in tones of defiance. At last the shot came. A loud explosion thundered around, a ball came whizzing by, and pa.s.sed through the sails, but did not touch the mast.

"What use is there to run, Maffeo?"

"None, whatever, captain."