The Corsair of
Scio by James De
The isles of Greece! the isles of Greece!
Where burning Sappho loved and sung;
Where grew the arts of war and peace,
Where Phobus rose and Delos sprung—
Eternal summer gilds them yet,
But all except their sun is set.
IT was morning among the islands of Greece and the dark blue sea on
every side showed not a ripple upon its bosom. The sky was as calm
and peaceful as the water which reflects its azure hue, and not a
cloud appeared to mar its surface. The sun just rising cast a broad
gleam of light over the scene, and threw upon the wide sea a long
path of ruddy light. Around lay the isles of Greece—the home of
classic poetry, whose trees and gentle brooks, whose groves and
fields, whose very rocks and soil, bring up before the mind glorious
memories of the past. There they lay, appearing double as their
images were seen reflected in the mirror-like wave, the branches of
their clustering trees hanging down gracefully—droopingly. But more
glorious than all the lovely spots which dot these sparkling waves is
Scio-the beautiful, the classic Scio. Here were the remains of many a
glorious temple of the ancients. Here were rich vineyards whose vine
yielded the famous Chian wine. Here the long avenues of orange trees
and olives, of citron and lemons, appeared on every side, and odorous
breezes from the East, laden with perfumes of spices and flowers, blew
ever gently upon the blest shores of Scio.
It was in the middle of the eighteenth century, when Scio was at
the height of her glory and prosperity, when the people were wealthy
and happy, and all was delight and pleasure-it was at such a time that
a small vessel might have been seen at a short distance from her
northern coast. Every stitch of her broad latteen sails was unfurled,
but no favorable wind came to fill them-no motion was in the air. Upon
the south the green and richly wooded shores of Scio stretched along,
upon which at times appeared the sheen of some marble cliff as it
jutted out among the green vegetation.
The vessel was long and sharp. Two tall masts supported the broad
triangular sails, and a red flag without device floated from the
summit of the main; men appeared dressed in the Grecian costume
lolling about the deck, some smoking, others talking, and others
sleeping. At the stern the leader paced up and down. He was young,
and had in his face all the high spirit and impetuous daring of
youth. His features were perfectly Grecian, all as finely formed as
those of some antique statue of his native land. A small fur cap was
placed upon his head, from beneath which rich clusters of raven hair
flowed down. His eyes were large and dark, and a jetty moustache and
beard completed the manly expression of his countenance. He wore a
rich crimson jacket, embroidered with gold, loose trousers with boots
which reached to his knees, and a red silk scarf wound around his
waist afforded a place where to put two pistols and a Turkish dagger.
A larger sword dangled at his side, and in his hand he held a long
light gun which, like his pistols, was richly ornamented after the
"Maffeo," said he to his lieutenant, "how goes the wind now!"
"There is not any wind to go," said Maffeo, a strong and hardy man
who was leaning over the side.
"Well, I think we will have a wind very soon."
"A wind? Do you? Why?"
"I feel it."
"You can always tell, I know not how, when there will be a wind. We
are ready for it, however."
"Maffeo, what was that you heard about these cursed Turks, when you
"Didn't I tell you? Well, I heard that they had landed upon Komao,
a little island near—"
"I know it well."
"Where there were only a hundred inhabitants. Monilon, the
principal man there, was seized, beaten, robbed, and the worst of it
was, his daughter Iona was carried away."
"What! carried away? Iona! I have heard of her as the most
beautiful of all Grecian girls."
"She is gone like many others to the slave market at
"Ah, the accursed hounds! the dogs of unbelievers! Thus they
tyrannize over us, and rob our men, and carry off our virgins. But
great Heaven, shall this be done longer? Ah, the wretches! Maffeo,
this will make us whet our swords more readily upon the next Turks
with whom we fight."
"Whew!, there comes the wind! see how it blows around yon rock."
"And by all the holy saints and angels, Maffeo, there is a Turkish
vessel. Ha! two vessels. By heaven, there are three!" he cried, as
one after another three vessels came borne by the wind around the
point where it blew.
"How can we get off? We have no wind. They will be upon us.-See,
each vessel is larger than ours, and the decks are crowded with armed
men: See that long gun. It can shatter us to pieces!"
"Peace, Maffeo. Be not so fearful. The wind will come to us before
they can get near enough to use that long piece. Halloa there! up my
men! There are three Turkish ships behind us!"
With many an oath and imprecation, the sailors rose and hastily
gathered their arms. One of them strung up at the foremast another
flag, on which appeared a crescent beneath a cross.
"Now my brave men, we will have to run. But we do not always do so.
Perhaps the time will come when we may have our turn at chasing. If
they come up, fight, fight like fiends, and die like Christians!"
Loud cheers arose and shouts of "Long live Ranadar! Long live our
noble captain, the brave Ranadar!"
And now the wind which Ranadar had prophesied, came down to them.
It blew steadily and strongly, so that in a short time her sharp prow
dashed the bright waves foamingly on either side. The Turkish vessels
who had borne down toward the corsair, as soon as they saw him, and
had felt certain of seizing him, now uttered cries of disappointment,
as they saw him move away. Loud cries were sent across the water,
shouts of ridicule and opprobrious names which the wind bore along to
Ranadar looked back and shook his scimetar at the Turkish vessels.
"Howl on! The time will come when you will tremble before
me-Ranadar, the corsair!"
He cried so loudly, that they seemed to have heard him, for
suddenly a shot came from the long gun, but it fell short, far short
of the mark. The men of Ranadar shouted in derision, and jerked the
flag whenever appeared the humiliated crescent, so as to attract the
notice of the Turks.
Ranadar gazed anxiously upon his pursuers. Still they came bounding
over the waves behind him, and his quick eye could not but see that
the distance between them was gradually lessened.
"Maffeo, they are coming up to us."
"What, can a Turkish vessel equal our swift ship?"
"These are sharp, and see what huge sails they carry. I fear they
will come up with us."
"Well, we will fight them-yes, all three!"
"Good, Maffeo. You are a brave man. Tell this not to the men for a
Ranadar watched more anxiously. The hours of day passed on, and
midday arrived. Though his own bark was swift, yet these were
evidently more so. At morning, the foremost was about two miles off.
Now not more than a mile separated them.
"Before night it will all be up. O the scoundrelly Sciotes! Why did
they not give notice of this?" and Ranadar walked anxiously about.
"Men," he cried at last. "Ho, there! Listen. We are lost. These
Turks will overtake us. But who will think of yielding? None?"
"No, no, none," cried the men.
"Then let us fight. Prepare a train, and when all is ready, when
our decks are full-then fire, and blow these Infidels to perdition! We
will make the Turks remember us, and when they pursue another corsair
they will tremble, for they shall think of Ranadar the corsair." In
obedience to his orders the train was prepared, but as it would be
some time before their pursuers would come up to them, they did not
make any preparation for soon firing it.
Three hours more passed, and now the nearest ship had arrived
within gunshot. The long gun was loaded after some trouble, and
pointed directly at the corsair vessel. Ranadar and his men cried out
in tones of defiance. At last the shot came. A loud explosion
thundered around, a ball came whizzing by, and passed through the
sails, but did not touch the mast.
"What use is there to run, Maffeo?"
"None, whatever, captain."
"Are the guns all-ready-loaded?"
"Yes, every one."
"Bring them out so as to place them easily on this side."
The men loosed the guns which were not very large, and made them
ready to be placed on the side opposite.
"Now! 'Bout ship-round with her!"
The men who understood Ranadar's design, obeyed, and the vessel
turning, now bore down upon the nearest Turkish vessel. Those on
board seemed perfectly thunderstruck at the sight of the chase thus
turning the tables upon them.
"Fire!" he cried, as he arrived opposite the Turks.
The guns were fired directly into the crowded ship. Loud cries and
screams, and the crash of a falling mast told how well those shots
had been aimed.
"Now for the next!" screamed Ranadar, excited. "We will serve them
in the same way!"
But the others were prepared, and drew up to await their approach.
On came the vessel of Ranadar, and the flags flew proudly from both
masts, while the men shouted enthusiastically. Loud sounded the
thunder of her guns as she passed swiftly by the two vessels. But the
report and the cries from the wounded were all exceeded by that of the
broadside given back by the Turks. The mainmast fell down over the
side with a deafening noise!
"Cut it away! Clear the ship!" cried Ranadar.
In a few minutes the mast was free, but the vessel moved only
slowly through the water. Her sides were shattered by those terrific
broad-sides, wounded men lay stretched upon the decks. The two
Turkish ships were quite near.
"Give it to them again, my rovers!" cried Ranadar, as he himself
picked out the Turkish captain with his gun. Another volley was fired
and again another, with the same effect as before. And this was the
last, for both Turkish ships coming quickly up fired broadsides, and
grappled with the disabled corsair.
The men poured from both ships into her. The Greeks seized their
scimetars and rushed into the deadly encounter. Maffeo fought like a
lion, killing three Turks in succession. Ranadar fired his pistols
and killed two of the foremost leaders. Then hurling them at the
heads of the followers, he rushed at them sword in hand. "Fight,
Greeks, fight! Down with the Turk!" and crying this, he toiled on in
the mortal strife.
But bravery could avail little against such numbers. The Greeks
were driven back, killed, overpowered by the vast odds against them.
Forced from the quarter deck into the middle of the vessel, they
stood there like their forefathers at Thermopyl', and fought for
their freedom. Not a word was uttered, not a cry from either side,
but foot to foot and steel to steel the combatants waged their deadly
warfare. Suddenly Ranadar disappeared below, and in a few minutes
returned with a beaming countenance and fresh energy. Rushing at an
enormous Turk who wielded a tremendous scimetar, the corsair attacked
him. In a few moments the Turk was disarmed, but springing at Ranadar,
he held his sword arm tightly, and sought to throw him over. Ranadar
dropped his sword, and closed with the Turk. They swayed backward and
forward, they fell and rose, they whirled round in endless
convolutions, so that neither Turk nor Greek could strike a blow for
his countryman. But even Ranadar seemed to gain. Holding his adversary
tightly by the throat, he forced him to the vessel's side. He
pushed—he strained—and then—and then—with a mighty noise which
seemed as though the air was rent with a dazzling flash, and smoke,
and fire, and blazing brands, and shattered vestiges of broken ships,
amid arms, and dead bodies, and a thousand hideous shapes and
forms-Ranadar felt himself seized by some irresistible force and
thrown with the fury of a tempest far out upon the water. For a moment
he was senseless, and lay perfectly still, clutching to the Turk. Then
he looked, and a blackened corpse lay in his arms. Shudderingly he
released himself, and swam around. Where the corsair ship and her two
foes had lain, nothing was seen but some blackened fragments, and the
whole sea far and wide seemed covered with them. At the distance of a
few hundred yards he saw the first Turkish ship which he had disabled,
coming down toward the horrid scene. He himself had been uninjured.
The large Turk whom he had pressed closely to him had saved his life.
His clothes were partly burnt, but that was all. With a prayer of
thanks for his deliverance, he swam toward the Turkish ship.
"I will try how they will treat me. Better not die wilfully, since
I have been so wonder. fully preserved. Great God I only! I alone out
of so many!"
The men in the ship saw him. A boat was lowered and he was brought
on board. For a few moments he was all unnoticed, so terrible had
been the calamity. Boats moved slowly over the scene, but there were
no more living beings to be found. All was one wide scene of havoc
Ranadar stood in silence awaiting his fate. At last the Turkish
captain approached him.
"Dog of an Infidel! Who are you who are thus saved when Moslems
"I am a Greek."
"I know you are, and that you are a corsair, and that you have
served under Ranadar, the abhorred of heaven, whom Mahomet confound!
But he is even now in Eblis."
"He is not. He lives."
"What! will you say that others are saved beside you?"
"How then can Ranadar live?"
"I am Ranadar!"
At that well known name the Turkish captain, laid his hand
furiously upon his scimetar. The men who had been looking at the
prisoner, or endeavoring to discern some living being upon the water,
all turned as if by one impulse, to look at the dreaded corsair. He
stood there with folded arms, glancing at them as haughtily and
proudly as though he were victor, and not a captive.
"I am. I did that," said he, pointing to the blackened fragments
upon the water.
"What! You come here, you confess your name, and your atrocious
deed? Do you hope to live?"
"And you shall not be disappointed. Here, come forward," said he,
to some of his men, who were, armed with axes. "Hew the ruffian from
limb to limb!"
"Do your worst, vile Turk! I scorn you, and laugh at death. Better
it is to die than live in captivity!"
"Ha! say you so? Then I will bring down your proud spirit, and
Ranadar the corsair shall be Ranadar the obedient slave! Men, bind
"Look well to your bonds, then, for strong bolts and bars have
before this failed to hold me."
"Bind him! Gag him! Stop the mouth of the dog!" shouted the fierce
Turk, in ungovernable fury. "Take him below, away out of my sight."
And the corsair was bound and taken below.
The Turkish ship left this scene of destruction and proceeded on
her way to Constantinople. There she landed, and over the city spread
the news of Ranadar's captivity, for his name was well known among
the people. As he was brought ashore, a vast multitude assembled to
have a look at the dreaded corsair. He looked around upon them, and
save a slight smile of scorn, no emotion was visible upon his marble
The Turkish captain, whose name was Achmet, took him as his own
slave, swearing that he would bring down his proud spirit, and tame
him as he would a wild beast-by hunger. Accordingly, Ranadar was
placed in a dungeon, whose moist floor, and dank, slimy walls showed
it to be beneath the surface of the sea-far down under the ground.
He narrowly examined the dungeon in which he found himself
confined. It was not more than ten feet square. At the side opposite
from the door there was a small grating, through which entered some
feeble rays of light. The iron stanchions were thick and strong, and
beyond the first one which he saw, there was yet another. The aperture
was about a foot square.
"Ha!" he exclaimed, when he first saw it. "That is what I wished
for, Achmet will leave me here without food for three days. When he
comes, perhaps the bird will be flown. My manacles are off! Good!-I
can use my hands."
He slowly unwound the scarf which was around his waist, and
disclosed beneath its folds doubled cords of silk, which, if
extended, might reach forty feet. He examined this, tried its
strength carefully, and then tied it round him. he then took off his
Fez cap, and from beneath the lining he pulled out some small
instruments. There was a knife, and a saw of the finest and hardest
But little light now entered the window, for it was late in the
afternoon. Ranadar went up to it and tried to pull the iron from its
place, but in vain. Then he quickly but stealthily prepared to saw
the iron through. There were eight bars in each grating through which
he would have to cut. By working steadily through the greater part of
the first night, he was able to take out the first grating, and finish
half of the other.
"Now," said he, toward morning, "so much is done. To-morrow I will
be out. But good heaven! Holy virgin!" he exclaimed, suddenly putting
his hand to his breast. "Ah, kind heaven, thou hast not yet deserted
He took out a small bundle in which there were dates, and with a
portion of these he satisfied his hunger. Night came on and found him
with an unconquered spirit, still laboring at his work. At last, when
it might have been an hour before midnight, the outer grating was
displaced, and Ranadar passed through.
He found himself in a narrow passage which went for a long distance
on either side. For a time he hesitated which way to choose, but at
length, he turned toward the left and went on. He walked for a long
distance, and at last came to a door, which, opening, disclosed a
flight of steps. The blast of fresh air told Ranadar that here was a
way to escape, for it led to the outside. The air also had the
freshness of the sea, and brought with it the perfumes of distant
shores, There was another flight of steps on the left at the top of
which was a narrow chink, through which a feeble ray of light passed.
The fugitive paused a moment, looked up the steps before him, and then
up the others at the light.
"I will go here," said he, as a sweet stream of music accompanied
by a mournful female voice, came down to his ears. "I will go here,"
and drawing his dagger, he went up the narrow steps, and reaching the
summit, he saw a small niche in which he might stand and look into the
room through an aperture, apparently made for the purpose. "Ha!" he
murmured, "this is some plan of Achmet. Would that I could meet the
Then gazing into the chamber, through the aperture, a beautiful
sight met his view. The room was magnificently furnished. Rich
curtains hung from the walls. The carpets spread upon the floor were
from the looms of Persia, the couches and stools were carved in the
most skilful manner. From the vaulted ceiling a brazen lamp was
suspended, whose light cast a mysterious gleam upon the scene. All
was in the most gorgeous and splendid style of oriental
Upon a couch in one corner of the room reclined a young girl whose
lovely countenance threw all else into the shade. Her dark hair was
loose, and her eyes were cast down droopingly, shaded by their long
black lashes. She was dressed in the elegant Grecian costume, and on
her head she held a small guitar which she had just finished playing.
Ranadar looked at the beautiful being, filled with wonder and profound
astonishment at so much beauty. What was his amazement when he saw her
raise her head and gently sigh his own name?
He thought that she was some unearthly being when he heard it, and
looked upon her as she buried her face in her hands and wept. A
sudden noise alarmed her, and she raised herself languidly upon her
couch. Footsteps were heard outside, and after a time Ranadar saw the
door open and his hated foe Achmet, walk in.
"Allah save you, beautiful Grecian maiden! Who is there who in
beauty can equal Iona? I hope you are more tender than you were
"Leave me to myself," she cried, waving her hand.
"O no, no,—do not send me away, do not deprive me of the light of
your heavenly smile. You torture me. Why do you treat me so Maiden,
you are my slave."
"By purchase-but I yield not to you."
"Hearken to me. You have defied me too long. You are in my power
entirely. If you will not love me willingly, I would scorn to compel
you. I have come this time expecting you to be more kind. I find you
unaltered, I do not love you well enough to wait for you to change.
You must die!"
Ranadar shuddered with ill-suppressed rage, but the lovely Iona
gazed at Achmet unshrinkingly.
"I know you love another. I know your affection for that pestilent
Grecian. I have watched you, seen your actions, and heard you sigh
his name. He too shall die!"
"He will never be in your power."
"Will he not? He lies now in my lowest dungeon. There he shall
Iona who had thus far been firm, when she heard that, fell back
upon the couch, but ashamed of her weakness, raised herself, and again
confronted her enemy. But her face was deathly pale, and her hands
were clasped tightly together.
"In one hour, Grecian maid-in one hour,"—and his voice sank to a
deep, hard whisper—"you shall die, and nevermore shall your father
behold you-nevermore shall Ranadar gaze upon you unless it be in
Eblis." And Achmet departed.
"Alas, he never has gazed upon me. Ranadar never has seen me, but I
have seen him-ah, too often."
Ranadar was filled with a variety of contending emotions. But
passionate love and pity for the beautiful Iona were pre-eminent
among them. He looked in silence after Achmet had gone, but suddenly
remembered that no time could be lost in waiting there.
"Surely," he said to himself, "there must be something else here
beside this aperture, there must be some small door by which one
might enter. He searched narrowly around, and at length saw a small
panel which seemed fastened by a concealed bolt. This he pushed back,
the door opened, and Ranadar stood before Iona. At the noise of his
entrance, she started, and looking up, muttered a few words in a
daring tone, as though she supposed the slaves had come to put her to
death, but seeing Ranadar the great corsair, the man whom she loved
beyond all words, she uttered a faint scream of joy and raised her
arms and face to heaven. He caught her in his arms.
"Fly with me, Iona. I know all. Come with your Ranadar. Ah, come
quickly. Hark, there are sounds without. Hasten!"
She seemed incapable of motion. So great were the conflicting
emotions which disturbed her soul, that she neither spoke nor moved.
"Iona, my own love, my soul!" he cried imploringly, and as she
leaned gently upon him, he raised her in his strong arms, and passing
back through the secret door, he bore her down the stairs. Then up he
went with his lovely, trembling burden, up the stairs at which half an
hour before he had paused, and a thrill of rapture went through him,
as on reaching the top he found himself upon a low terrace which
overlooked the sea. Iona's arms were clasped about his neck. The
lovely girl, overcome by her sudden escape from death, from sorrow and
misery—overcome at the sight of Ranadar, free, and making her free,
felt a deep gush of joy and bliss, too great for utterance. Her tears
of happiness flowed freely, and while she clung to him she sighed his
"Cling to me closer, closer, Iona! There is the water beneath us.
We must escape. See, yonder there is a boat. I must carry you there."
About a hundred yards away, upon the moonlit surface of the water,
a small boat could be seen lying at anchor. None seemed to be on
board. There Ranadar determined to swim. The water was dashing
against the stone wall ten feet beneath. He unwound his scarf and
fastening it firmly to an iron bar, he took Iona in his manly arm,
and then descended. The cold water received the lovers and enfolded
them. Iona clinging to Ranadar as he directed her feared nothing, for
her lover was with her. He struck out boldly and swam slowly to the
boat. Gradually he approached, and at last his hands grasped it.
Raising himself stealthily, he looked into it, and found it empty.
Then he placed Iona within, and crawling in after her, a few moments
sufficed for him to hoist the sails. A fair wind blew from the
harbor. The light boat felt its influence and started at the blast,
and bounded over the waves carrying them home to Scio.
Once more the waters of the 'gean Sea and the blue waves of the
Grecian Archipelago shone beneath the morning sun. A small ship was
seen stealing along the coast of the Isle of 'gina. It was gaily
painted, but guns peeped through her sides, and a long one was
mounted amid-ships. Aloft, a red flag streamed, and the sails, which
were distended by the breeze, glistened from afar upon the blue
water. She was slowly and noiselessly sailing toward a promontory,
upon whose summit a strange flag was flying, apparently a signal of
Upon the other side of the promontory, and sailing directly toward
it was a Turkish vessel. By the listlessness of all on board, it was
evident that they were ignorant that an enemy was so near. The
captain leaned over the stern and gazed into the water. An aged man
in the dress of a slave, but whose intellectual countenance belied
his costume, was cleaning a sword.
"Monilon!" cried the captain, sternly, "Why are you so long. May
Allah eternally confound you, indolent heathen of a Greek!"
"Achmet, you are my master. I am old. Do not beat me. I have not
the strength of youth."
"Insolent greybeard! Be more respectful. Since your daughter's
escape, you have grown suddenly bold. Beware!"
"I rejoice that Iona is out of a ruffian's power."
"Dog! What! Ha!" he cried, in amaze, as turning to fell the old man
to the deck, he saw the Grecian vessel rounding the promontory. "Ho,
men! up! To arms! A corsair!"
Instantly, every man sprung to seize his arms. The guns were made
ready, and all was prepared for action.
"Monilon, go below. We will blow up these knaves in your absence.
You will have company soon from the slaves in yon ship."
A wild shout from the corsair interrupted him. Suddenly the
approaching vessel paused, and some movement was made upon her decks.
"By great Allah, they are afraid. Ha! They are moving that long
gun. They are pointing it." A loud noise followed his remark, and a
huge ball struck the ship sending the splinters around in every
direction. Then the corsair bore down upon them. Yet not more than
six men appeared upon her deck. When close by she poured a broadside
into the Turkish ship, wounding and killing great numbers. The Turks
sent back another, and shot off some of the rigging. But now the
ships were close together. A trumpet was blown by a noble and
splendidly apparelled youth who seemed to be leader. Instantly a
crowd of men poured out from the hold. They came thronging the deck,
and rushed after their leader into the Turkish vessel.
"Ranadar!" shouted Achmet.
"Ha, Achmet!" and Ranadar rushed upon the Turk. Their scimetars
crossed and flashed fire. Three times the steel of Ranadar started
the blood of Achmet. Twice he forced him upon his knee. At last the
Turk struck furiously at the corsair. But the next moment his sword
was whirled from his hand, and the Moslem chief fell gasping at the
feet of Ranadar.
"Victory, victory! Down with the Turks," shouted the fierce
corsair, as they rushed more furiously than ever upon their foes.
"Victory!" and the shout which added force to the Greeks, took away
the courage of the Turks. For a while the carnage raged, the Greeks
cut down their enemies who still fought with the wild energy of
despair. Many leaped into the sea. Others leaned against their dead
comrades, and though wounded, still kept up resistance.
"Yield! yield! You are conquered!" cried Ranadar! "Yield, and I
will be merciful!"
At this there was a pause. They threw down their swords, and
acknowledged themselves prisoners.
But as Ranadar turned to look upon the dead body of Achmet, and to
direct his men about the ship, he saw an aged man leaning against the
side of the ship. For a moment he looked, and then springing forward,
he caught the old man in his arms.
"Monilon, alive! Are you yet alive, then? Iona has mourned you
"Ranadar, Heaven bless you forever. Did you save my daughter?"
"I escaped, and she fled with me."
"Ranadar, your name is terrible to your foes, but O, how sweet, how
dear, to your friends. God bless you, is an old man's prayer."
The Turkish vessel was plundered, and after dividing, enough was
found to fill the corsairs with joy. The Turkish prisoners were
carried to Scio, and after a long time were exchanged for Greek
captives. The name of Ranadar gained new glory, and his deeds were
spoken of everywhere.
One tenth of the spoil was Ranadar's, but this he forced upon
Monilon, in order to enable him again to rebuild his ruined home in
Komao. Monilon took it, for well he knew that Ranadar would have it
again-well he knew it, by the happy smile and lovely blushes of Iona.
Komao rises from the sea not more than thirty miles to the north of
Scio. It is a lovely spot, where trees of luxuriant foliage and
richest fruit grow on every side. Here the vineyards are seen, where
vines hang in graceful festoons from tree to tree; orchards filled
with a thousand fruits, gardens where blooming and odorous flowers
give forth their fragrance to the air—running streams and gushing
fountains. In this paradise dwelt Monilon; here Iona was brought up,
and here Ranadar came to take her to his home. But that home was on
the same lovely island, and there they lived in happiness such as
earth can seldom bestow, for if the tenderest love and the most
beautiful scenes of nature can afford happiness, then Iona and
Ranadar had nothing more to desire. The corsair seldom after sailed
the sea. He was contented to dwell at home, and ever blessed the day
when he was led captive to Achmet's dungeon.