THE VINTAGE
"Harbor dues! They are a new institution, are they not?"
"A month old only," said the man; "but if I hear right they will not be very much older when they are taken off again."
"Taken off? How is that?" asked Nicholas, blandly.
"They say there will soon be a great cutting of the swines' throats. I spend my life on the sea, and for the most part my ears are empty of news; but surely you know what was being said at Corinth?—that before a year is out we Greeks shall not have these masters any longer."
One of the crew was standing near, and the captain motioned him to go farther off.
"I do not like to say this before my own men," he said; "but why should I not tell you? You will be landed at Patras, and you will go your way and I mine. Besides, for all your Turkish clothes you are no Turk, for they are a short-legged folk. I heard it at the café last night. Four Turks were talking about the arms which they say the peasants are collecting, They spoke of one Nicholas Vidalis as a leader—they expected to take him, for word had come to them that he was travelling to Corinth."
"Thus there are disappointed men," thought Nicholas. Then aloud, "Who is this Nicholas?"
"Nay, I know him not," said the man. "I am from the islands. I thought it might be you could tell me of him."
"From which island?" asked Nicholas.
"From Psara."
Nicholas lit his pipe with a lump of charcoal and inhaled a couple of long breaths, silent, but with a matter in balance.
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