“It must remain here,” said Justinian proudly; “once the English flag has been brought to the front, it cannot retreat.”

“Let us hoist it by all means,” replied Maurice cheerfully; “but, remember, only seven Englishmen fight under its folds.”

“Well, I guess, Mr. Roylands, half a dozen Englishmen are worth fifty Greeks!” cried Dick, with great confidence. “Once we get that Union Jack up, and I’d like to see who’d pull it down.”

It was early morning, and they were talking about the flag which Helena had brought down on the previous day. As the bulk of their army consisted of Melnosians, who did not understand the sacred feeling with which it was regarded by the English, Maurice thought it hardly worth while to plant it on the palisade; but the Demarch, in spite of his independent sovereignty, was patriotic to the core of his brave old heart, and, with a touch of sentiment, insisted that the attack should be repelled under the unconquered banner. Maurice therefore humored his uncle, and agreed to his wish, so the five sailors planted a stout pole just inside the barricade, and in a few minutes the flag of England was floating proudly at the mouth of the gorge.

As yet the enemy had made no move, so Justinian had plenty of time to complete his defensive preparations. In spite of her father’s veto, Helena, mindful of Maurice’s instructions regarding broken glass, had come down at dawn with her women, all bearing bottles, crockery, and earthen jars, which were speedily smashed to atoms and strewn plentifully on the ground between the mine and the barrier. Alexandros had his battery in good working order, and had ensconced himself behind a rock some little distance away, from which, on being signalled to by the Demarch, he could explode the mine at the proper time. The Melnosians had managed to snatch a few hours’ sleep, and, encouraged by their victory of the previous day, were ready for the fight, so a sense of great hopefulness was diffused among the valiant little garrison. What with the mine to blow up the enemy, the broken glass to cut their bare feet,—no ineffective defence,—the guns ready loaded to sweep them down as they swarmed up, and the stern determination of the defenders to fight to the bitter end, Justinian felt that, in spite of being outnumbered, he would be able to hold the island until the return of Crispin with re-enforcements. The more perilous became the position, the higher arose the spirits of the defenders, especially those of the sailors, on whose patriotic feelings the presence of their country’s flag had a wonderfully inspiring effect.

“Now then, Helena,” said her father, when all preparations were complete, “you had better return to the Acropolis with the women.”

“Very well, father; but I will be very anxious for your safety.”

“What about me?” asked Maurice reproachfully.

“Oh, you’ve got your talisman,” she replied, with an attempt at lightness, “so you will be quite safe; but I am not so sure about father.”

“Don’t trouble your head about me,” said the Demarch, kissing her; “if I die I die, and if I live I live—it’s the fortune of war. The best thing you can do, Helena, is to go down to the valley and attend to those poor fellows who are wounded. I know you will be very anxious, my dear, so I will send Temistocles to you every now and then with information as to how the fight is getting on. Now, good-by, my dear child, and keep up your spirits.”

“I will walk up with you to the head of the pass,” said Maurice, turning away from the palisade; “there is no sign of the enemy getting under arms yet, so I can easily spare a few minutes.”

Helena of course was delighted at thus having her lover all to herself for even a quarter of an hour, and walked beside him up the gorge, followed by the women, who had taken an affectionate farewell of their sons, husbands, and brothers. Zoe also was weeping bitterly, as she had just parted from Dick, and dreaded lest she should never see him again. Indeed, despite the danger, the men at the front were less to be pitied than those women remaining behind in the interior of the island, for while the former were at least too occupied to fret over their troubles, the latter, with nothing to take their minds off the disasters surrounding them, were in a state of suspense pitiable to behold.

“Do you think Crispin will come back within the week, Maurice?” asked Helena, as she walked arm in arm with her lover.

“I hope so! If he is picked up by the Cretan steamer, and his yacht is now lying at Syra, I have no doubt he will; but it is all the merest chance. However, come what may, I think we can defend the island to the end.”

“It is not of the danger without, but of the danger within I am thinking.”

“Why, what do you mean?”

“This volcano”—began Helena, upon which Maurice interrupted her with a merry laugh of scorn.

“My dear one, do not fright yourself with false fire. I suppose you are thinking of the earthquake?”

“Yes; and of the lake and the springs.”

“What is the matter with them?”

“The springs are spouting furiously, and the lake has disappeared.”

“Great heavens! that does sound ominous,” said Maurice anxiously. “Does your father know?”

“Of course he does, but he told me not to speak of it, lest the people should become panic-stricken, but of course such prohibition does not extend to you.”

“The lake gone! the springs active!” repeated Roylands in a musing tone. “I am afraid there is danger of the volcano breaking out again.”

“So I think; but father laughs at all my fears.”

“It would be a terrible catastrophe should such a thing happen, for not one of us could hope to escape. Besides, if Melnos became an active volcano, all your father’s forty years of hard work would go for nothing.”

“Do you think it is likely an eruption will take place, Maurice?” asked Helena in a tremulous voice. “You have no idea how afraid I am.”

“Egad! it is enough to make any one afraid; however, I think you can set your mind at rest, Helena. The eruption, if there is to be one, cannot possibly take place for a week, and by that time Crispin’s yacht will have arrived; so if there are any signs of an outbreak, we can escape at once.”

“Oh, I hope so! I trust so!”

“What does worry me,” pursued Maurice meditatively, “is all this war going on for what may turn out to be nothing but a heap of cinders. It would be the very irony of fate, if, after beating back the foe, this volcano should start, and drive us away from the very place we have defended.”

“If such a thing happened, I do not think my father would survive.”

“It would be a blow, certainly,” replied Roylands, affecting a cheerfulness he was far from feeling; “but one can do nothing against the giant forces of nature. However, Helena, remember all the wealth of Melnos is safe in London, thanks to the wisdom of my uncle; so if Hephaistos did start a forge here, which he seems inclined to do, we would simply have to abandon this island, and start our scheme of a new Hellas on another; but this time we would select one less dangerous from a volcanic point of view.”

“But think of forty years’ work thrown away!”

“And think of leaving this paradise! However, if the archangel waves his flaming sword, we must; still, if I go, my Eve will be with me, and that will comfort me greatly.”

“Ah, my dear, dear Maurice!—Oh, what is that?”

“The roll of a drum,” cried Roylands, stopping abruptly. “The enemy must have begun the attack, so I will have to return to my post. Good-by, my dearest, and don’t trouble yourself. Remember, I have your amber heart.”

“And my real heart also.”

“Well, I leave mine with you for safety; so I can’t be shot through the heart, can I? Jove! there’s the drum again. Give me a kiss. There, good-by, my dear one.”

Down the gorge he tore at full speed, for he already heard the sharp crack of a musket-shot; and Helena, remaining where she was, sank on her knees, which example was followed by all her women; and the whole company, with uplifted hands, implored the protection of Heaven for their dear ones at the front.

Maurice arrived at the barrier just in time, for the enemy were already scrambling up the slope; and Justinian, catching sight of his nephew, shouted out to him to redouble his speed.

“Quick, quick, Maurice! Confound it, sir! they’ll be on us in a few minutes!”

“Well, that will be just time for me to recover my breath,” said the young man good-humoredly. “All in order, uncle?”

“Yes. We’ll meet them with rifle-shots first, and give them a chance of cutting their feet to pieces.”

“But if we let them get so near, they will assault the barrier.”

“What! after crossing those broken bottles barefooted? Don’t you believe it, my lad. They will be jumping about like cats on hot bricks shortly!”shortly!”

All the Melnosians were in a high state of glee over this snare for the enemy, which was so simple, yet dangerous, and yelled with laughter as the foremost stormers dashed with their bare feet right into the centre of the sharp points. Of course, the vigor with which they rushed forward rendered the glass all the more effective; and, after receiving them with a volley of musket-shot, the garrison paused to roar with laughter at the sight of the bare-legged islanders hopping in agony over the broken points. Is was not dignified, it was not particularly dangerous, and could hardly be called legitimate war; yet, by this simple means, the first rush was effectually checked; and streaming with blood, the enraged stormers retired, leaving a few of their dead, who had been killed and wounded by the volley, lying on the field.

The information concerning this stratagem soon passed from mouth to mouth, and those of the enemy who were not yet climbing up the hill, dashed back to their tents, from whence, after a time, they emerged, wearing tough leathern sandals, with the hair still on, bound round their feet by strong thongs. Those who had been wounded in this novel manner had, regardless of safety, sat down within rifle range to tie up their bleeding feet; and Justinian, with more generosity than they would have displayed in like circumstances, refrained from firing on them thus defenceless.

Caliphronas, who, since the death of Alcibiades, now held supreme command of this irregular army, saw his forbearance, and, sneering at Justinian for a soft-hearted fool, with, for him, exceptional courage, led those of his men who were booted across the dangerous ground. Apparently he had quite forgotten how Alcibiades had carried forward his stormers the previous day under the shelter of the cliff, for, advancing thus in a compact body full in front of the palisade, they were exposed to a raking fire from the muskets of the garrison.

“Lions led by a deer are not dangerous,” quoth Justinian grimly, on seeing this bad generalship. “I don’t think we’ll have such a bad time of it as we did yesterday.”

“Certainly not, while Caliphronas is general of the enemy,” replied Maurice, laughing; “but he has some courage, I see, for he leads the stormers.”

“I’ll soon frighten him back, sir,” said Dick, who hated Caliphronas for his treachery on the night of the wreck; “will I fire?”

“Wait a minute, till they are more conglomerate. Now!”

The gun roared, and a shower of grape-shot splashed over the advancing body, which did considerable damage in their ranks, that is, if such disorderly huddling could be dignified by such a name. They still continued to come on, however, on noting which, Justinian, who, in default of Gurt, had charge of the other gun, sent another shower of grape among them.

They wavered for a moment, but, as their leader still urged them to come on, Maurice snatched a rifle from the man nearest him, and aimed deliberately at Caliphronas, not with the intention of killing him, but merely forcing him to retire wounded. The ball struck Caliphronas on the elbow of his sword-arm, and with a yell of pain he dropped his weapon and ran away, followed as a matter of course, by his soldiers.

“At this rate, Maurice, we can hold the island for a year,” said the Demarch, with a jeering laugh; “it’s child’s play compared with yesterday.”

“If we can get them on that mine, and explode it in good time, the siege will be over,” replied his nephew decisively.

“I am averse to useless massacre.”

“So am I, but if we don’t put the fear of God into their souls, they will wear us out by these puny attacks. One bold stroke, and they will fly.”

“Well, do what you will. I have every confidence in your generalship.”

The enemy again charged up the hill, but this time Caliphronas was conspicuous by his absence, as he was evidently in the camp attending to his wound. A huge man in an Albanian dress was leading this time, and had at least the virtue of brute courage, for, in spite of the musket-shots and double discharge of the cannon, which killed many, he still advanced with his men right up to the palisade.

“Hand-to-hand again,” said Dick, as the Melnosians began to use their bayonets, “but they won’t get over the barricade this time.”

As the barrier was now built of nothing but turf overlaid with sank-bags and gabions, the besiegers found their axes of no use, and were reduced to try to swarm up to the top of the parapet in overwhelming numbers. The garrison, however, shot freely into the struggling mass, but in doing this had to expose themselves greatly, and in consequence lost many men. Still, they managed to drive back the besiegers, and the two cannon belched forth grape-shot alternately, so that at length the enemy were forced to retreat over the brow of the hill. Thus relieved from immediate danger, the Melnosians busied themselves with their dead and wounded, carrying both to the rear, so that their fighting might not be hampered by the cumbering of the ground with bodies. In front of the barrier, the ground right over the brow of the hill was thick with the fallen of the enemy, and some of the wounded were trying to crawl to a place of safety, while others, lifting up their hands, cried out on “Christos.”

In a remarkably short space of time, the pirates re-formed into something like order, and, still led by the Albanian, came once more to the point of attack. This time, however, instead of assaulting the barricade, they lay down on the crest of the hill, and began to pick off the garrison with their rifles, while every now and then a small body would make a sally forward, only to be beaten back with bayonet and cutlass. Quite unaware of the danger they were in, the whole of the firing party were camped right on top of the mine, and Justinian, wishing to end this desultory warfare, waited until they were pretty well massed before giving the signal to explode.

Twice he raised his hand to give the sign, and twice he dropped it again, from a sentiment of regret, for, scum though the besiegers were, it yet seemed a terrible thing to hurl into fragments the fifty or sixty men who were so calmlycalmly seated over the mine. Still it was a case of necessity, for the garrison, worn out with incessant fighting, were not fit to stand another assault such as had taken place the day before, and, if the pirates captured the island, every living person would be ruthlessly put to death.

Justinian was not a uselessly cruel man, and would fain have been spared the necessity of such a wholesale massacre, but when he thought of his child, and the defenceless women who would be left to the mercy of these savages in case of capture, all feelings of pity died in his breast, so when the enemy were massed in a great number above the mine, he gave the signal.

Alexandros at once sent the electric spark along the buried wires, the ground in front of the barrier heaved like a convulsed serpent, and in the concussion which followed the roar of the explosion, every one of the garrison was thrown to the ground. When they arose to their feet, the sight which met their eyes was frightful, for the ground was strewn with fragments of human bodies, legs, arms, trunks, heads, all lying about in ghastly confusion. The sky seemed to have rained blood, for their garments were splashed with the crimson fluid; and the whole space of ground on the crest of the hill was rent and riven into huge holes. Of all the human beings resting there a few minutes before, hardly one was left alive, and down the hill fled the frightened survivors, yelling out that an earthquake had taken place. Those still in the camp caught the alarm, and ran for the boats, so in a few minutes the harbor was dotted with craft pulling hard for the entrance. Not one pirate, save those who were wounded, remained on the beach, for this frightful catastrophe, which they ascribed to natural causes, had completely routed the whole host which had stormed the palisade so confidently a few hours before.

“The war is over,” said Maurice, who was very pale, for the shocking sight of the bodies in fragments was enough to make the bravest shudder; “they have had a lesson, and won’t come back again.”

“I trust not,” said Justinian, who stood sternly under the drooping folds of the Union Jack, “but I doubt it while Caliphronas is alive. Still, we have gained the victory this time, and, though I am ashamed of having perpetrated such a wholesale massacre under this flag, yet necessity knows no law or mercy either.”

“If we had not beaten them by that time, they would have beaten us,” said Maurice, taking a pull at his brandy-flask, “for all our men are about worn out, and could not have stood another assault. We have lost a good few too, and I doubt, uncle, if, out of your hundred and twenty subjects, you have more than thirty left.”

“It has indeed been a severe struggle,” replied Justinian sadly, “but now, thank God, it is over—at least, for a time; but, as sure as you stand there, Maurice, Caliphronas will come back with a fresh set of blackguards.”

“By that time, Crispin and his re-enforcements will have arrived, so we will soon be able to drive them back. Dick!”

“Yes, sir?”

“We must repair damages, and bury the dead.”

“Right, sir!”

It was about four o’clock in the afternoon when they began this task, and not until nightfall were the dead buried decently in shallow graves dug in the sea-shore sand. Papa Athanasius came down with all the women from the village, and read the service of the Greek Church over the remains of friend and foe alike, so that when the moon arose above the peaks of Melnos, there was no sign of a struggle having taken place, save in the battered barricade and the rent ground.

When all was completed, Justinian held a consultation with his nephew and Dick as to the probability of the foe returning soon, as, if there was a possibility of such an event happening, it would be unwise to leave the barrier unguarded. Ultimately, it was decided to leave sentries on guard, with cannon and muskets loaded, and Alexandros directed the search light full on the entrance of the harbor, so that in the event of the enemy returning, they could be seen before reaching shore, and the alarm given at once. Temistocles, who was still in good condition, as he had done no fighting, was left behind also, in order that if an attack were made, he might run to the Acropolis to alarm Justinian.

These arrangements having been made, the survivors of the fierce fighting returned to the village, in order to take the rest they so much needed. Loud were the wailings for the dead from the Melnosian women, many of whom were now alone in the world, and all that night, those sleeping in the Acropolis heard the sounds of bitter sorrow rising from the valley below. It had been a tough fight, many had been lost, and much damage had been done; still, the foe had been forced to retreat, and Melnos was still under the rule of the Demarch.

That night the leaders were all gathered round the supper-table, to make the first good meal they had tasted for days, and Helena and Zoe waited on them, for all the rest of the servants were down in the village looking after the wounded men. All of them looked worn out and haggard, for the strain, both physical and mental, had been something terrible; and even now, like Justinian, Maurice and Dick, gifted as they were with iron constitutions, were nearly broken down by the terrible experiences they had undergone.

“My poor Helena, you look fit to drop,” said Maurice tenderly, drawing her down beside him. “Rest yourself for a time, and do not be so afraid. All danger is now past.”

“But think of the many lives that have been lost.”

“I do, and regret them; still, selfish as it may sound, remember we are all safe, and, after all, that is a great thing.”

“I am sure I don’t know how long we will be safe with this volcano.”

“Nonsense, Helena!” said her father in a vexed tone; “I tell you there is no danger there. Nothing new has happened that I know of. The island is quite safe, but if there are any chances of an outburst, we will get away in Crispin’s yacht.”

“That is what I was saying to Helena this morning. But will you abandon the new Hellas?”

“I must if Hephaistos bids me. The bravest man can do nothing against a burning mountain. No, Maurice, if I am driven from Melnos, I will no longer fight against fate; already, by the death of so many, a great deal of my forty years’ labor has proved futile, so if the crowning touch is put to it by the outbreak of the volcano, I will throw up the game.”

“And return to England?”

“Yes. I am old now, and want rest, so I have no doubt you and Helena will give me a corner at the Grange. It will be a great blow to me should things turn out in this way; still, I may be too pessimistic, and all may yet be well.”

“If I may make so bold, sir,” said Dick, who had been talking in a whisper to Zoe, “what, may I ask, is to become of me? Zoe, here, says, if Miss Helena goes to England, she will go too.”

“Well, you will accompany her, Dick,” said Maurice genially; “and I have no doubt that, when you are married, I will be able to give you a billet at the Grange.”

“Buy a yacht, sir?”

“No, I leave that to Mr. Crispin, so you can still take service under him, and make Zoe stewardess. But we are all looking at the black side of things; the mountain may remain quiet, in which case I will still stay here and carry out Justinian’s scheme of the new Hellas.”

“Hear! hear!” cried Dick, lifting his glass. “Beggin’ pardon, sir, but here’s to the health of Mr. Justinian!”

“Coupled with the name of Mr. Roylands, who is a hero,” said Justinian, bowing his thanks for the compliment.

“And add Helena’s name also, for she is a heroine,” cried Maurice gayly. “Now then, uncle, Dick, Helena, Zoe! three cheers for our noble selves!”

These were given, and after that, quite worn out, all retired to rest.