Chapter 5 Chapter 5 The Coast of Messenia

After leaving Vediro, the Calista sailed all night across Coron Bay in a southwesterly direction.Nikolai Scotta went down to his cabin and probably would not appear until daybreak. Sailing with the wind... the whole sea is blowing a cool southeast wind, and when the end of summer and the beginning of spring are close to the second solstice, the water vapor in the Mediterranean is turned into rain! In the morning, the boat passed through Cape Garo at the end of Messenia, and the abrupt silhouette of the highest peak of Taijat was gradually covered by the steaming mist when the sun rose. After crossing the promontory, Nicola Scota appeared on the deck again. He cast his first glance to the east, but Magne had long since disappeared, and what appeared now was Hazios-Dimitrio Branches of the Sierra Mountains.

After a while, the captain stretched out an arm in the direction of Mane, was it a threat?Or bid farewell to the homeland?Who can tell?However, from his eyes at this moment, people cannot read kindness.Now the clippers raised their square sails and jibs, and began to tackle the wind, going upstream to the northwest. Since the wind came from the land, they could advance quickly by any means. The Calista left Enus, Cabrera, Sabiancha, Vinediego and other islands on the left behind, passed through the channel between Sabiancha and the land, and headed straight to the east of Mo drive away. Ahead lies the winding Messenian coast with its beautiful, volcanic mountains.This area, in what would become the Kingdom of Greece, would become one of the 13 provinces that would make up modern Greece.But at the time, it was just one of many battlefields that fell to Ibrahim and recaptured by the Greeks.In the past, it was a battleground against the Spartans, and both Aristomena and Epimenondas made their names here.

At this moment, Nicholas Scotta, without saying a word, corrected the direction on the compass and observed the time, and came to the rear deck to sit down. On the bow, a conversation began between the old sailors of the Caliscata and the new sailors who had just come on board from Verdelo the night before. Order, the first officer is not on board at the moment. They talked of the destination of the voyage, and of sailing up the coast of Greece.Of course, the questions were all novices, and the old crew members answered the questions. "Captain Scotta seldom talks!" "He tries not to say it, but as long as he says it, he will do it. Then you just wait to obey the order!"

"Where is the Calista heading?" "No one ever knew in advance where it was going." "Damn it, we came here sincerely, but no one believes us!" "Yes! We should trust the captain, the place he takes us is the place we should go!" "It's not like relying on these two short cannons on the Calista, you can take the risk of robbing merchant ships between the islands!" "This one's not for robbery! Captain Scotta has other ships, well-armed ones for that. The Calista is only his recreational yacht! Look at her stinginess , any French, English, Greek, or Turkish ship will overtake her!"

"If you get it, how will you distribute it?" "As long as you participate, everyone who sees it will have a share. Brother, you are indispensable. In the future, after the battle on this ship, you will definitely have a share! Work hard, and you can make a lot of money if you are in danger." "That means there's nothing to do between Greece and these islands now?" "Yes..., there's nothing to do in the Adriatic, if the captain's whim takes us there. So no new orders, we're just good sailors, in a good ship, honestly in Io Nia Haik floats! But it won't be the same!"

"I hope it changes soon!" It could be seen that these new recruits, like the old sailors on the Calista, would be relentless in any job.There was no hesitation, no remorse, no prejudice even, as you would expect to see in the inhabitants of the coastal region of Magne.So, they are a good match for the person who leads them, and that person knows they can be trusted. If Vediro and his gang knew their Captain Scotta, they hadn't even seen the first mate. He was in charge of both the ship and the house, and he was loyal to the captain anyway.His name is Scobero, and he is Celigordor, a small island with a very bad reputation, at the southernmost tip of the archipelago, between Celigordor and Crete.A newcomer asked the boatswain:

"Why didn't you see the first mate?" he asked. "He's not on board at all," said the bosun. "Don't you ever see him?" "I can see you." "when?" "It's time to see you!" "Where is he?" "Where he should be!" It seems that he can only be satisfied with such an empty answer.At this point the bosun whistled for all to come up and take up the rigging, and that was the end of the conversation. Now you have to keep up with the wind, keep a mile away from the coast, and sail along the coast of Messenia.At noon, the Calista approached Mordon.This is not its purpose.It will not anchor in this small town built on ancient ruins.The lighthouse at the entrance of the harbor disappeared behind the rocks in a blink of an eye.

At this time, a signal was sent from the side of the ship.A small black flag with a red crescent moon was hoisted on the mast. Seeing that there was no response from the land, the ship continued to sail north. In the evening, the Calista arrived at the entrance to Navarino Bay.The bay is like a large lake surrounded by mountains.After a while, through the staggered gaps in the mountains.The city hidden behind the castle complex was revealed.The winding mountains form a natural dike, and here is the end of the dike, which just blocks the path of the northwest wind and allows the rolling sea water of Adria to flow into the Ionian Sea.

The afterglow of the setting sun shone on the towering peaks to the east, but the night had already soaked in the vast sea. The sailors were now certain that the ship would anchor at Navarino.It was entering straight into the long and narrow Megaro-Turo Channel, to the south of which the island of Sfactory was about four kilometers long.There are two tombstones on the island, commemorating two famous figures who died in the war: Marais, a French major, who died in 1825; Biammon's minister also died in the same year for this cause. When the boat was only a dozen chains away from the city, it turned its direction and let the triangular sail face the wind, just like raising a small flag just now, and now a red light was raised, but it still didn't get any reply.

At that time, the bay was full of Turkish warships, and the Calista was helpless.It had no choice but to drive close to the small white island of Kuronaski in the middle of the bay, and then under the command of the boatswain, it let go of the sail, turned the rudder to the right, and returned to the edge of Sfacrete Island. When the war began in 1821, hundreds of Turkish prisoners of war were imprisoned by the Greeks on Kuronaski Island. Although they had been promised to send them back to Ottoman, they were all starved to death on the island. So, when Ibrahim's troops besieged Sfacrete in 1825, the island was being guarded by Mordo Godardo himself, and Ibrahim took revenge by killing eight hundred Greeks after conquering the island. .

The sailboat headed for the Skia Channel, a two-hundred-meter-wide opening in the north of the island, between the northern tip of the island and Cape Corifachon.Only veterans who know the channel by heart would venture in, as the shallow water makes it nearly impossible for ships to pass.But Nicholas Cotta, who was the best navigator, sailed over the steep rock face and calmly crossed the Cape of Corifajon.Now it sees the British, French and Russian fleets cruising in the sea.It was carefully avoided, and the sailboat sailed upstream along the coast of Messenia all night, and during the day, carried by the southeast wind, entered the calm Bay of Arcadia along the coastline. The sun crept out from behind the peak of Edom.From the top of the mountain, you can look around. There are ancient Messenian ruins at the foot of the mountain. You can see Kelong Bay on the left and the city of Arcadia on the right.The breeze blew across the sea, and the waves shone in the morning light. At dawn, Nicola Costa himself steered the boat as close to the edge of the city as possible.The city is in a natural depression on the coast, forming a natural wide berth. About ten o'clock the bosun came aft, and stood behind the captain, awaiting orders. The peaks of the Arcadia Mountains stretch endlessly to the east.The villages on the hills are hidden among olive trees, almond trees and grape trellises, and the creeks flow to the rivers that flow into the sea.Shrubs such as phlox grow staggeredly on the shore.The famous grape seedlings in the Corinth area are everywhere on the half slope, decorating the front and back of the house with verdant green. Here and there, the red houses and buildings in the city show a little bit of rouge in the green bushes, which is very beautiful. The picturesque beauty of the Loponnese region. But the closer to Arcadia, a place called Western Palicia, it was the main port of Messenia in the era of Epaminonda, and after the Crusades, it was the port of Franceville-Haduwan. One of the hereditary territories, seeing its withered and dilapidated appearance, anyone who worships and respects the ancients will be heartbroken. Two years ago, Ibrahim destroyed the city, massacring women, children, old and weak in the city.The buildings built on the ruins of the former Acropolo Castle were completely destroyed, and St. George's Church, which was once ruined by Muslims, was also in ruins.Everything was reduced to rubble. "It's obvious that our Egyptian friend has been here!" Nicholas Scota muttered, and the desolate scene before him didn't make his heart tremble in the slightest. "Now the Turks are masters here!" replied the bosun. "Yes,... I hope it will be longer,... even, I hope it will be forever!" The captain added. "Should the Calista dock, or continue sailing?" Nikolai Scotta took a closer look at the port, where the ship was only a few chains away.He turned his eyes to the city built on the hillside, about one nautical mile away from the harbor. He seemed to be hesitant, undecided whether to call at the port or leave. The bosun awaited his instructions. "Signal!" Nicholas finally issued an order. The red crescent banner was hoisted on the mast and unfurled to the wind. A few minutes later, an identical flag was hoisted on a flagpole on the harbor breakwater. "Dock!" the captain ordered. With the rudder stock down, the sailboat came closer to the port.When the entrance is fully opened, the ship sails into the channel without hindrance.With the foresail lowered, then the mainsail, the Calista was now controlled only by winch and jib, and her speed was about to reach the middle of the port.It dropped anchor in the middle, and the sailors busied themselves on the deck to pack the sails. Almost at the same time, the boat was put down on the boat, the captain got on the boat, the four oars immediately started to row, and the boat leaned against the steps of the pier.A man greeted him there, with words of welcome in his mouth: "Scopello at the beck and call of Nicola Scota!" The captain answered with a very casual gesture.He went ahead, up the ramp, towards the houses closest to the port.Passing through the ruins of the latest siege, into a street crowded with Turkish and Arab soldiers, he stopped in front of an inn with a sign that read "Minerva" and went in, followed by the rest . After a while, Captain Scotta and Scopello sat at a table in a room with two glasses and a bottle of raki, a strong drink made from the flowers of a plant.The golden-yellow and pleasant-smelling tobacco produced by Misoroch was rolled into cigarettes, and the two began to puff, and then the conversation began.The two men looked as if one of them was the humble servant of the other. Scopello was evil-looking, short and cunning.About early fifties, looking older.He looked like a usurer, with small but bony eyes, sparse hair, a snub nose, and long feet, which Albanians describe as "the toes extend to Macedonia, and the heels are still in Beocinian." He has a big round face, no mustache, and a goatee on his chin. He is of medium height, with a huge bald head on top of a thin body.He was an Arab-Jewish man of Christian birth, and dressed very simply—a sailor's dress from the east coast of the Mediterranean, with a cloak over his coat. He is a broker who specializes in selling stolen goods for the pirates in the archipelago. He is good at looting property, selling captured prisoners of war in Turkey, and transporting them to North Africa. It is not difficult to guess what Scotta and he will talk about, what aspects the topic will cover, nothing more than the best way to make money in the war, and how much benefit can be gained from it. "What is the situation in Greece now?" asked the captain. "The general situation is the same as when you came last time!" Scopello said, "The Calista has been sailing at sea for nearly a month, right? Maybe I haven't heard any news since you left." "Honestly, I don't know at all." "Then let me tell you, captain, the Turkish fleet is preparing to transport Ibrahim and his team to Hitra Island." "Probably," replied the captain, "I saw it last night passing through Navarino." "Have you not parked anywhere since you left Tripoli?" Scopello asked. "No... just stopped once! I stopped at Vediro for a few hours... to replenish the crew for the Calista. Since I left the coast of Magne, before I arrived in Arcadia, I sent None of the signals answered." "Perhaps there is no place to answer," Scopello said. "Say," said Nikolai Scota, "what are Muulis and Canaris doing now?" "They are just attacking everywhere, taking advantage of some small areas, and can't win a decisive victory. By the way, when they are busy driving away the Turks' ships, the pirates can do a lot of work in the archipelago." "Do people often talk about...?" "Shakadiff?" Scopello said in a low voice, "yes... he's talked about everywhere and always about him, Nicola Scota, and he's the one everyone talks about the most!" "We'll talk about it later!" Nikolai Skota stood up and drank his glass, which Scopeloma filled for him in no time.He paced up and down, then stopped by the window, with his hands folded on his chest, listening to the rude singing of the Turkish soldiers in the distance. He went back to sit down across from Scopello, and suddenly changed the subject: "I know your signal is that you have a human transaction, right?" he asked. "Yes, Nikolai Skota, enough to fill a four-hundred-ton ship! Both survived the massacre after the Crimean retreat. Damn it! The Turks killed too much!" There are too many! If they let them do it, there will definitely not be a single person left alive!" "Are they men, women?" "Yes, and children! . . . everything!" "Where?" "Castle Arcadia." "Is it expensive for you?" "Eh! You know the pasha is not very talkative," said Scopello. "He thinks the War of Independence is almost over, . Snatch', 'snatch' in their savage parlance, then there's no more people or anything else to sell! No more captives, the price will be high! It's a compensation, Captain! I have definite news It is said that the African market is short of slaves, and now they can be sold at a good price!" "Well," replied Nicholas, "is everything ready? Can you go aboard the Calista now?" "I'm all set, there's nothing to do." "Very well, Scopello. In eight or ten days, later, the freighter will leave Scarpanto for the shipment. Will it be delivered?" "I promise it's okay, so it's settled. But the money has to be paid in cash. You'd better greet Elizondo first and let him take over the business. His reputation is good, and his signature is equal to money. Pasha is taking his check as cash." "Just write to Elizondo, I'm going to Corfu soon, and I'll settle the deal..." "This business ... and another big business, Nicolas Scotta!" Scopello went on. "Maybe...!" said the captain. "Honestly, it's not fair! Elizondo is so rich...so rich! If it weren't for our business to take care of him, where would he make so much money...but what about us?...we risked Dangerous tossing about at sea, working his life, being called to and fro by the boatswain's whistle every day! . . . Ah! But one can make a fortune sitting at home, and being the boss of a robber's bank is good! So, I say, Nenny Gula Skota, is that fair?" "What's fair?" asked the captain, gazing at his mate. "What! Don't you know? Actually, Captain, you asked me just to hear me repeat it for the hundredth time!" "Uh!" "Daughter of Elizondo..." "As long as it's fair, do it," Nicola Scota said simply, standing up. After speaking, the man walked out of the "Minerva" inn, followed by Scopello, and came to the place where the small boat in the port docked. "Aboard," he said to Scopello, "we'll negotiate the deal with him as soon as we get to Corfu. When that's over, you'll go back to Arcadia to get ready to load." "Aboard!" Scrapello replied. An hour later, the Calista sailed out of the bay.From morning to night that day, he heard the rumble of artillery from the south. This is the roar of the guns of the Combined Fleet in Navarino Bay.