d
to amiability of temper and the self-control he was able to exercise.

We have seen him, when pressed on all sides to quit the Ionian Islands
for the continent of Greece, yield to these entreaties, although it was
the most severe season of the year (28th December), and, notwithstanding
a stormy sea, set out for Missolonghi.

He refused the honor of an escort of Greek vessels, hiring instead a
Cephalonian _Mistico_, and a heavy _Bombarda_ that waited for him at St.
Euphemia. But on arriving near the harbor, he was driven back by
contrary winds. Forced to remain on shore and wait, what sort of humor
did he display under these annoyances? Mr. Kennedy, who went to wish him
a pleasant journey, shall tell us.

"I found him," says he, "quietly reading 'Quentin Durward,' and, as
usual, in high spirits."

Meanwhile, the sea grew calm. They set sail, and embarked; Lord Byron on
the little _Mistico_, with his doctor, two or three servants, and his
dogs; Count Gamba on the _Bombarda_, with the arms, horses, followers,
baggage, papers, money, etc. On arriving at Zante, persons came to offer
Lord Byron means of amusement, various comforts, etc. To accept might
have been very pleasant for him; but he knew that he was wanted at
Missolonghi; and not an hour would he lose after having transacted
business with his bankers. He believed (for it had been announced) that
Greek vessels were coming to meet him; nor did he doubt that the Turkish
fleet was still anchored at Lepanto. Sea and wind were favorable, the
sky serene, fortune for once seemed to smile; but it was only the better
to deceive him. The Turks had been informed of his departure; and hoped
to make an easy prey of him and his riches. They left the waters of
Lepanto, and heading their course toward Patras, set off in pursuit of
Lord Byron and his suite.

At the close of a few hours, the _Mistico_, which was a good sailer,
lost sight of the _Bombarda_, of slower motion. They halted opposite the
Scrophes (rocks in Roumelia), to wait for it; and meanwhile Lord Byron
saw a large vessel bearing down upon him. Could it be the Greek vessel
sent to meet him? The _Mistico_ fired a pistol at its approach, but the
vessel did not answer fire. Was it the enemy, then? On hearing the cries
of the sailors on board, the captain could no longer doubt it: it was
an Ottoman frigate, calling on them to surrender. Their sole hope of
safety lay in the swiftness of their sails. Under cover of the