162 THE IMAGE OF WAR 



was setting, and Kimolo, over which a brilliant full 

 moon was rising, and turned into the magnificent 

 harbour of Milo, in which we passed through the 

 whole Greek Squadron. During the whole week of 

 my stay warships and torpedo-boats were coming and 

 going. This combination of sport and war was some- 

 what embarrassing, and made me doubt whether I 

 should get back to civilisation without considerable 

 delay. No sooner had we anchored at Milo — or rather 

 at Adamas, for that is the name of the port, a small 

 town, some half century old, and inhabited almost 

 entirely by Cretans — than T received a hospitable 

 welcome from Mr Gialeraki, who unfortunately speaks 

 no language but Greek, so that our intercourse was 

 more limited than it might otherwise have been. He 

 hastened to assure me (through his interpreter) that 

 there was no doubt as to the presence of the animals 

 I was in search of on the island, and confirmed his 

 assertion next morning by producing a live one for 

 my inspection. This animal had been wounded and 

 captured by the shepherds some months before. Its 

 age was estimated to be about six years, and its 

 beautiful and shapely horns were about three-quarters 

 of a yard long, yet it showed little grey about the 

 withers, and was inferior in size to some I saw after- 

 wards. In its bearing and outlines the "wild" look 

 of the animal was unmistakable. It was about the 

 size of a Bosnian chamois of the same age ; and indeed 

 the only striking difference between the two, besides 

 of course the horns, beard, and absence of face mark- 

 ings, lay in the eye. In this animal it was quite 

 yellow and'goatish-looking, and this is the case with 

 all the males. Very different is the soft and melting 

 eye of the Alpine goat-antelope. 



