The mayor, Elias Melissinos, was a little withered man, with a face the color of a ripe crab-apple. His eyes, bright and black like a bird's, peeped out from a great fringe of eyebrow, and seemed the very hearth and home of an infernal shrewdness. He was the first cousin of the Capsina's mother, but thought nothing of his connection with the clan, remarking with much truth that the same God made also the vermin, and the tortoises upon the mountain. But as he had grave theological doubts as to whether it was God or the devil who had made the Turks, he was a suitable ally. He ate his dinner peeking and peering at his food, and swallowing it gulpingly like pills, with a backward toss of his head, occasionally glancing at Mitsos, who fed Christos and himself alternately, and asking sharp little questions. When they had finished they went on deck, and Elias sucked at his pipe like a grave little baby, while the Capsina made exposition. "See, cousin," she said, "Mitsos and I have examined the quay, and we both think that it is easily defensible and hard to take. There is already a big shed on there; you will have to build another one on the promontory, opposite; between them they will command the harbor like a two-edged sword." "You will be putting guns on the sheds, maybe?" asked Elias, briskly. "There would not be much advantage to us in building the sheds and leaving them totally empty," remarked Mitsos. "Yes, but my dear cousin," said Elias, "where are the guns to come from? For I never yet authentically heard that they grew on the mountain-side. Muskets we have and plenty of them, but I am thinking that before a Turkish ship gets within musket-shot our sheds will be spillikins and match-wood; and, if it comes on to rain, the muskets will get rusty; but, indeed, I don't know that there will be any other result worth the mentioning." "You can have two four-inch guns from the _Revenge_ and two from the _Sophia_," said the Capsina, "for we are a little overarmed if anything. What say you, Mitsos?" Mitsos scratched his head. "I say that I wish there were not so many good guns lying at the bottom of the Gulf of Corinth," he said. "Where do they lie?" asked Elias. The Capsina sprang up. "Indeed, the little Mitsos has no wooden head, though he thinks slower than snails walk, cousin. One ship and all its guns lie in fifteen-fathom water, not a mile from land, in the bay westward from the point of Galaxidi. I could lead you there blindfolded. Can you raise them, think you?" "We can try," said Elias. "But if your brigs are over-armed--" "They are not overarmed!" cried the girl. "I wish we had more guns." Elias bowed, with a precise little smile on his lips. "The mistake is mine," he said. "I was wrong when I thought I heard you say so. Please continue, cousin."