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in any case no native would dare to attack "man b'long which they knew us to be. We were thus thankful not to have the additional burden of small arms with all our other gear, but, just in case of trouble, I took my revolver, carrying it on a belt round my waist, but out of sight inside the voluminous top of my breeches. Uili, who did not know about the revolver, was visibly relieved as well as surprised when now I produced it. I cocked it and held it in my hand, leading the way with Uili's assistance, all of us walking as quietly as possible with lights dowsed and keenly on the look-out.

There was a little bend in the path just before we got to the fork for which we were making, and as we turned it, there, dimly visible in the darkness, was the old soldier standing motionless, musket in hand. No doubt he had heard our approaching footsteps, but did not think we were so close. I made a grab at his frowzy old coat, and holding my pistol to his head to frighten him (as it certainly did), called to the men behind to seize the old sinner and take away his gun. This was quickly and silently done. Uili then told him he was to go ahead of us and guide us to the "saalwater," and to prevent his desertion he was secured to two of the bluejackets with our last fathoms of spun yarn. I then held the revolver over my head, and fired three or four shots into the air.

The rest of the village, I felt certain, were not far behind their soldier leader, and this feu de joie was intended to send them home again. A rapid pattering of feet showed me that I was quite justified. We saw them no more. We relighted our torches, the old soldier obediently set forth in front, thoroughly frightened, and after about an hour of difficult tramping we emerged on the beach. At a little distance away was the Dart, our home, her riding light on the forestay bright in the blackness of the air, bright too in an oily path of light over the equally black water. A pleasant sight indeed to a weary tramping party! A pistol-shot signal and "Dart ahoy!" brought us a boat in very quick time, and we came on board bringing our prisoner with us, nothing brave about him now but the braggart colour of his coat.

He slept on board under the eye of the Quartermaster on watch, and the next day we took him round to Havannah Harbour to talk to Mr Macdonald at the Mission station. He had asked us to get his assistance in case of any difficulties arising with his parishioners during the course of our survey. When I told him what had happened, and when Uili had added his share of the story, his long face and grey beard seemed to grow longer still. He thought we had come out of it very fortunately. He knew that district to be a wild one, and he had no doubt but that plunder

was the reason for trying to keep us for the night in the village, and, this failing, for misdirecting and then wayway laying us. The people were, in fact, as Uili had said, "badfella man, too much, my word " (in sanctified hearing, the word" was no longer qualified).


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Magnanimity of this kind always pays with savages; it The old soldier was then is far better than punitive planked forward on the Mission expeditions, which savour of quarterdeck, his knocking knees "bullying," and are, after all, counterbalanced by a firm red only their own primitive method breast. Misa Makadonal knew of "paying out" any one. him for a Mission renegade, This was the first time I had and gave him a talking-to in seen this other method put in his own language, in which practice, and it was so sucanger and Christian sorrow cessful that I have followed it seemed to be combined judi- on several similar occasions ciously, and then handed him since. By its means bad fella back to us for further treat- man became good fella man, and ment. We took the old sinner the men of this village became back to the ship, and kept him of the greatest use to us durthere at work for a few days, ing the survey as bush-clearers, until it was time to go again trackers, carriers, and, best of to the bay at which we had all, as preservers and protectors been picked up on that dark of our calico marks, though night. He went home from to any native such material, the Dart a reformed character, so confidingly spread along the with quite new ideas as to the coast, was more to be desired nature of man b'long man'wa'. than rubies. I have little doubt The men had been amused by that, later on, all of them "took the old chap, and had filled the Book" (as joining the him up with food of the most Mission is called among them), varied kinds, and spoilt him and have by now died, or will thoroughly, after the manner die, in the odour of missionary of bluejackets. There was no sanctity-an odour as experi"punishment" about it at all. enced in any Mission scool

He bore away with him presents not only for himself but also for the bad fella man, his village mates. That, how ever, is the real way to deal with these wild creatures. The old soldier would now tell them of our ship, and of its

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WE first met by accident in the small hours of an early autumn morning, far out on the still waters of the Gulf of Ismidt.

Some two or three days' fishing had exhausted my supply of bait. Prawns were scarce and difficult to find. The few which my boatman had trapped on the previous evening had mysteriously disappeared. Fishermen when at work in these waters never ask for bait or part with it. Nevertheless, I hailed Sylvestro, and asked him to sell me some. His reply was significant of the man.

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suddenly churned into life. Thousands of fish-heads appeared an inch or two above the surface, snapping with a peculiar noise like the bursting of small bubbles. Then couple of sea-snakes some five feet long, with heads swaying a foot above the water, came wriggling uncannily towards us. They looked quite angry, but dived when we were almost on them.

But Sylvestro, watching the bottom, paddled quietly along the shore. From time to time he pointed out soles at rest, but they were so completely camouflaged with sand that I failed to see them. showed me empty spaces where they had slept the night, showed me dog-fish asleep and cuttlefish, and the gradual coming to life of the deep.


"You will catch no bass to-day, even if I give you bait. You had better come with me. I will show you more sport and more of the secrets of these waters than you dream of. We need no lines and no bait. With landing-net alone we I have my landing-net. The collected that morning some elements are with us." thirty sole, two dog-fish, a Amused and interested, I couple of lobsters - a more accepted his invitation.

varied basket than it has ever The sun had just risen. In been my lot to handle. By the hush of that grey morning nightfall, fishing with lines and the sea around us was so drift-net, we had added enough smooth and so clear that one to make us think of landing. could see bottom everywhere. The first thing was to hide We rowed into one of the the larger fish in the sails ; small creeks which abound the rest we placed between along the Asiatic coast. As ribs of the boat, and in a we entered it we disturbed a special locker built for the shoal of slumbering mullet. purpose.

The waters around us were To my scruples at the risk

he was running of being caught smuggling, he laughed.

"What have I to fear? Is not the revenue inspector a Turk? Is he not a regular customer of mine? Bah! He gets free shaves and many a dish of fish for nothing. The fish he eats pays no duty, nor will mine!"

ment manuscript book, without a cover, very discoloured, and with some parts missing. It was the work of several writers, and the earliest portion was evidently centuries old. There was also a collection of fragments of terra-cotta pottery, some lamps of iridescent glass, Byzantine bricks,

"What do you mean by and a rubbish-heap of pieces free shaves?" I asked.

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We rowed to Pendik, the village where he lived. The Marmora lapped at his back door. We hauled his boat into his kitchen. I found one corner of it devoted to the cooking of family meals. The rest was given up to his two sporting dogs, his boat, his fishing-nets, his shrimp and lobster baskets, his boating tackle, and the odd things he had picked up on fishing trips.

The front room of his house was his shop. Here he shaved the heads or faces of his Moslem clients; or at times stitched a wound, set a bone or drew a molar, all of which helped him to gain the goodwill of his neighbours, Greek and Turk.

In the room which I occupied, I found a score of books. Most of them were on Byzantine history. There was one on Greek coins, and another on 'Ecclesiastical Laws of Monasteries.' I also found a parchment manuscript on Instructions how to Paint Ikons and the Saints,' and another parch

of white and coloured marbles. I questioned him about these next morning. He answered in an offhand way—

"I have always collected such things. The village folk call me the Antika.' The Greeks used to bring me what they found. Now all that has stopped. The Turks know nothing of such matters, and care less. Yes, I sold things to the dealers in the bazaars.'

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'Some I bought. One the Ecclesia gave me. Some have come to me from my forbears. The two manuscripts were written by one of them, and added to by others. The larger one tells the story of the Monastery of Irene. I have many things to tell you." And then he added with all seriousness, "My people have lived in these parts since the conquest. Some held high ecclesiastical and official rank before the conquest. They played their part in stemming the Moslem tide. Many were engulfed in that tide. One abandoned his faith!”—and he uttered a pious wish that this

one might burn in hell-fire for all time. Again he repeated, "I have many things to tell you about these monasteries, the ruins of which you see on every island."

After that we had many trips together. Our fishinggrounds were around the islands which extend from Pendik on the Marmora to some five miles beyond Touzla in the Ismidt Gulf ideal fishing - grounds, within easy reach of shelter from the north or south gales. These islands were noted for their monasteries, which date back to the third century. Until the conquest they were the centres of monastic life which played so great a part in religious questions, and in the iconoclastic troubles of the times. They were formerly called "Demonissia," the isles of the spirits. All bear their old monastic names Agios Andreas, Agios Pavlos, Nea Andros; one is nameless; and one is known as the "Accursed." They are all deserted now. Fishermen occasionally land on them, but they avoid them at night.

Our programme varied with the season. It usually began at dawn, and ended at dawn of the next day. At times we would continue for three or four days. We took food and rest when we could. We fished for bass, bream, tiger-fish, sole or gurnet, with rod or deep line, fixed or running.

But Sylvestro had very little faith in my rod, and none in artificial baits.


"No," he would say ; are playthings, made for sale. All that a fisherman needs is the finest of gut, a new hair line, and shrimp and cuttlefish for bait."

As we fished, he rambled along with stories of Byzantine and Turk, of the monasteries around, and of the activities of the authorities in hunting up and deporting Greeks from every village along the coast. Every week I heard him say—

"The new-comers steal everything. The Lazes are the worst, but the Cretans are not much better. They have stolen two of our village boats. Monastiri, Aretzu, and Touzla are emptied; not a soul is left. Lord of Lords, is nothing to be left us! The Lazes have made a stable of our Church. Last night the priest...

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But his talk ceased in the excitement of a straining line, paid out as fast as wheel could run, and then brought slowly in until the swishing silvery mass of a mighty fish was near his net.

When he realised that he could not escape deportation, he was anxious to hand on to me his knowledge of the fishing sites, of the folk-lore, and, above all, of the old monasteries and convents. My motor-boat enabled us to move about as needed. When fishing was slack, we visited the islands in turn and searched the ruins. And then he told me something of their history and his own.

"During the long struggle to abolish images, the monas

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