"My! but that was warm," the Sub said, drawing a deep breath. "That was the hottest bit of fire I've had yet; it beats Ajano. I've never heard so many bullets at the same time. Phew! One lucky shot, and the boat might have been disabled.""We don't have much luck, do we?" the Orphan said, when he had recovered his normal state of mind."No, we don't. Still, there wasn't a submarine there—of that I'm certain. We were sent to find that out—so never mind. Phew! That was hotter than I liked it—it was. I can't think how they missed us."TheGrampusescorted the picket-boat back to Suvla Point, and just after the sun had risen and the hands had been turned out, she ran under the stern of theAchates, and the Sub and the Orphan climbed up the "jumping-ladder".The Lamp-post, with a relief crew, stood waiting to take over the picket-boat."No luck, Lampy; nothing doing," the Orphan said. But his pal was too interested watching the colour effect of the sunrise on the mountain top of Samothrace—to the right of Imbros—and made the tired Orphan look at it too. "Bother old Samothrace, Lampy! I want something to eat. I hope they won't start shellingus" (a big shell had just burst on the beach, opposite the ship) "till I've had a bath and my breakfast. Where are you going?""They ran a lighter ashore at 'C' beach last night, and I've to go and clear her, and try to get her off.""C" beach was round Nebuchadnezzar Point, out of sight behind Lala Baba, and the Turks shelled most things that went there—at any odd hour of the day."Poor old Lampy! They'll start shelling you directly you go there—they did me yesterday. Bath—breakfast—sleep—that's what I'm going to do. Nighty! Nighty!""Swish-sh-sh—flom-p" went a shell, half-way between the distilling ship and theAchates."R-r-r-omp" burst a high explosive on the beach. Another shell, falling into the water close to theAchates, burst, and the smoke drifted along the surface to her bows."Bugler! Bugler! Sound the 'Retire'!" sang out Mr. Meredith, on watch. "Get away in that boat of yours," he told the Lamp-post, as the old crew came up the jumping-ladder, and the relief crew waited to take their place. "Coal and water her when this 'show's' finished.""Good luck to 'C' beach and the lighter, old Lampy! Don't duck when they come along. Nighty! Nighty!" the Orphan called out to him, and went below, as another wailing swish sighed through the air over the ship.Outside X2 casemate the China Doll leant against the thin armour, with his sponge and soap in his hand and a towel round him. "Where are those horrid shell dropping? Anywhere near us?" he asked, blinking his eyes.The Pink Rat, inside the casemate, looked very miserable. "Any luck, Orphan?" he asked nervously."I'm going to 'bag' your baths. I'm so sleepy I can't wait till these silly old Turks have finished," the Orphan said, and sang out for Barnes to get him a cup of tea.It was now four weeks since the night of the Suvla landing, and, as you have heard, flies were more of a plague on shore than they had been when theAchates'midshipmen left "W" beach. They swarmed on board the ships. Bubbles declared that you could see them sitting along the gunwales of every boat that came off from the beach, and that directly it got alongside they flew on board and made themselves at home. The Honourable Mess presented the China Doll with a "swatter", and made him spend most of his waking hours killing flies in the gun-room, but the more he killed the more flew in through the scuttles or from the mess-deck. Both in the ward-room and the gun-room the noise of the fly "swatters" went on continuously all through the daylight hours.Dysentery commenced to rage throughout the Army; and whether the flies brought it off from shore or whether they did not, dysentery commenced to break out among the ships' companies, especially among those men who worked in boats, or those living ashore—signalmen and beach-party men—all who were frequently in contact with the soldiers. The Pink Rat, grown visibly thinner, and the Hun both went on the sick-list. They lay in cots on the half-deck, but had often to turn out and get behind the armour, on one or other of the casemates, when the Turks' shells began whistling over the skylight above them. They lived chiefly on condensed milk—"poor brutes", as the China Doll said sympathetically.So many of those "stray" snotties who had lodged in theAchateshad by now been sent back to their own ships, ill, that the Honourable Mess had the gun-room almost to themselves again. Nor had those precious stores been seriously raided this time, so they had no real grievance.At last theAchatesherself received orders to return to Mudros to coal and "rest"; and on the 6th September she slipped out through the submarine "gate" after dark, left the twinkling camp-fires of Suvla behind her, and steamed through the double row of submarine nets at Mudros early next morning.CHAPTER XXHard Work at MudrosTheAchateshad not been at Mudros for nearly three months and a half, and during this period the appearance of the shores on either side of the harbour had changed very greatly indeed. Where, previously, fifty tents or marquees had stood, there were now thousands—multitudes of them—the French on the east, the British on the west side. The French, anticipating a winter campaign, had already built rows of wooden barrack-huts; the British had begun to do so.Stone and brick buildings for offices, workshops, and store-houses, a narrow-gauge railway with petrol-driven engines, electric generating stations, half a dozen substantial piers, and miles and miles of roads—all had been built since the end of April. In the harbour itself lay more transports, store ships, colliers, oil ships, and water-tank ships than before the first landing. A line of French battleships faced a line of British. Monitors big and monitors little, cruisers, scouts, and sloops off duty, coaled, provisioned, and rested prior to returning to their bombarding or submarine-hunting jobs. Up in a corner, near Mudros West, and opposite Turkish Pier, lay theBlenheim, the mother ship of destroyers, surrounded by those of her children off duty. At another part of the harbour the submarines, resting after having come down from the Sea of Marmora through the nets across the Dardanelles, or preparing calmly to go up there again, nestled alongside theAdamant. Two or three white hospital ships were at anchor inside the harbour; eight or nine out beyond the nets at the entrance. Among all these puffed and snorted a great number of motor-lighters, the "water-beetles"—doing all the work of moving troops and stores, and doing it marvellously well. In fact, it is difficult to imagine how the work would have gone on without them.The first day of her "rest" theAchatescoaled, and on the second took in provisions from the littleDago. This little steamer ran between Malta and Mudros with frozen meat and vegetables for the fleet. She also at times brought the private stores ordered by the gun-room messman, so that the Honourable Mess had a warm spot in their hearts for her.That week's rest extended for nearly two months and a half. During this time, so many of the officers and men were employed away from the ship that theAchatesbecame immobilized, and did not take her turn for "guard" duties or as "emergency" ship. Every morning sometimes as many as two hundred and fifty of her men were called for by the "water-beetles", and taken away to coal leviathan transports, or to dig up rubble and load it into some steamers which were being prepared to be sunk as breakwaters off the various beaches on the Peninsula. The big steamerOrubapresently arrived, and theAchateshad the job of dismantling her and preparing her to be sunk at Kephalo.Those coaling jobs did not appeal to the snotties, though even they had their compensations, as the Orphan proved when he came back from coaling theMauretaniafor three whole days, dirty and tired, but with tales of pleasant meals on board her, and hugely proud because he had managed to buy two boxes of kippers and one of haddock.For a whole week, each of the Honourable Mess had a kipper or a haddock for breakfast, and Bubbles considered that "it wasn't such a rotten war after all".The Pink Rat about this time finally broke down, and had to be sent to the naval hospital shipSoudanwith a recurrence of his old "W beach" dysentery. He never rejoined theAchates, and on the broad shoulders of Bubbles devolved his light duties as "senior snotty".Flies were troublesome, but not so bad as at Suvla, and the weather remained gloriously fine until the end of October.Every evening after "seven-bell" tea, whenever it was possible to obtain a boat—a whaler or a gig—as many of the Honourable Mess as could get away would pull or sail down to the harbour entrance, land, cross over a narrow neck of land near the wireless station, and bathe in a delightful little cove; afterwards they would kick a football about on some level ground there, and sail or pull back with grand appetites for dinner. Why the China Doll was never drowned on those expeditions it is difficult to explain.Two football grounds had been made, quite close to this "wireless" station, and the use of them was given to each ship in turn—two matches a day on each. So, often the ward-room and gun-room combined to play the officers of other ships; often, too, the men arranged matches between different parts of the ship—Bubbles and his fo'c'sle men—the Orphan and the Sub with their foretop men—the War Baby and his marines—the Lamp-post and Rawlins with their quarter-deck men.Many good games they had, and if only there had been any cheering news, this period would have been a very pleasant one. But nothing went well anywhere. The great "push" in Flanders and France had come to a full stop; the Russians only just managed to keep the Germans from advancing—in fact, but for the approach of winter, people wondered whether they could keep them out of Petrograd (no one could get used to that name), and whilst the Germans and Austrians swept across the Danube into Serbia, the Bulgarians poured across the eastern frontier. Troops in thousands, French and British, had been rushed across to Salonica, but Greece still "sat on the fence"; she would not help, and the French and British arrived too late to prevent Serbia being overwhelmed. No attempt had been made on the Peninsula to advance; and dysentery raged in the army—thousands of cases being taken away every week. The number of German submarines in the Mediterranean had become more numerous, and the area to patrol with trawlers, destroyers, scouts, and sloops was so vast that the difficulties of suppressing them grew enormously. One thing alone was satisfactory: enough stores had been landed on the various beaches to maintain the army there, at a "pinch", for six weeks—long enough to tide over any probable period of bad weather, when landing might be impossible. There was also a certain satisfaction in seeing the constant stream of ships which came in through the harbour entrance every morning, and to know that they had safely run the gauntlet of the submarines; but everyone realized that "The Great Adventure" had failed, and that to maintain the army in its present precarious footing on the Peninsula was causing an immense drain on the resources of British shipping, without any apparent disadvantage to the enemy.One bright spot cheered everyone—the deeds of our own submarines in the Sea of Marmora. But for them, the prestige of the Allies in the East would have fallen to a very low ebb at that time.By the middle of October "all white" uniform changed to "all blue", and this marked the commencement of cooler weather.Lord Kitchener arrived early in November, inspected all the army "positions", and went away again.Till his coming, there had been some speculations as to the possibility of evacuating the Peninsula; but the extraordinary difficulties of this operation had been so evident, that those two military experts, the China Doll and the Pimple, had long since decided that it could not be accomplished without tremendous loss of life, a huge number of men left behind as prisoners, and most of the guns abandoned.Now, again, everyone wondered what Lord Kitchener thought, and what would happen.After his departure the weather broke up temporarily, and a south-westerly gale—only a mild one—left Suvla and Anzac and Cape Helles beaches strewn with wrecked or stranded picket-boats, lighters, and "water-beetles".In the third week of November theAchatesreceived the welcome order to proceed to Kephalo. The full moon shone brilliantly as she slipped out through the nets, and off she went. Two hours after leaving Mudros the track of one torpedo shot across her bows, and half a minute later another passed some eighty yards astern of her—Fritz, or one of his brothers, had fired two torpedoes—so she increased speed and "zig-zagged".The danger had vanished by the time it had been realized; and all that the Honourable Mess and the gramophone knew about it, was the sudden rushing down of men to close those water-tight doors and hatchways which remained open, and a lurid description from the Pimple afterwards. It did not interrupt the delightful concert with worn-out records and blunted needles.By three o'clock she entered the submarine-net "gate" at Kephalo; and when the sun rose next morning it shot up from behind Achi Baba, and once again they heard the distant booming of guns.Kephalo, at the corner of Imbros Island nearest to the Peninsula, is a narrow harbour with high hills on one side and a narrow spit of land on the other. It is entirely open to the north-east—the quarter from which the worst of the winter gales blow—so three ships, including the bigOruba, had been sunk across it, higher up, to give protection to the little piers built there, and to the picket-boats, motor-lighters, and ordinary lighters which worked round them.Kephalo had become the advanced base of Anzac and Suvla, ten and twelve miles away respectively, and it was absolutely necessary that troops and stores should be able to be landed or embarked at all times. Here, too, were the aerodromes which "Cuthbert" and his brothers so delighted to bomb. One of these was stationed on the low spit of ground; and the Orphan, who had the knack of making friends with everyone, and the knack of generally being in the right place at the right moment, managed one afternoon to be taken "up" in a reconnoitring aeroplane. He and Bubbles had strolled along to the aerodrome, wandered round until someone invited them to tea in the "mess"; and whilst in the middle of it, the "Flying Officer" on duty received an urgent signal: "Hostile submarine reported off Gaba Tepe, steering S.W.; please send aeroplane reconnaissance to search"."Confounded nuisance!" exclaimed the Flying Officer. "I wanted to write some letters; the mail goes to-morrow morning. Well, you chaps can tell a submarine from a shark, I suppose; which of you would like to come along and spot old Fritz?"They both grinned with delight; but Bubbles carried too much weight—at least a stone and a half more than the Orphan—so the Orphan was chosen.The emergency aeroplane—a biplane—rested on its wheels outside the sheds. They walked across to it."Climb in!" said the Flying Officer. "No, you won't want a coat; stick on this cap and goggles—pull the flap down over your ears—and get in as you are; we shan't be away more than an hour. Sit down behind; I've altered the control gear—can work it from the front seat."The Orphan had never been in an aeroplane before, and tingled with excitement. He sat down and winked at the disappointed Bubbles whilst his new friend climbed up in front of him and began to play about with levers and switches. "If you do see Fritz, signal with your hand—bang me on the back—it's no good shouting: I shan't be able to hear you."The blades began whizzing round as the engine buzzed; men gave the machine a shove and a push; the blades went so fast that they only made a mist in front of the Orphan's eyes; the ground dropped away, and he shouted to Bubbles to wait for him—though it wasn't much use shouting, because of the noise of the engines.Up they went, passing over theSwiftsure, theAchates, and the other ships in the harbour, and out beyond the line of submarine-net buoys.They headed right over the sea, first of all towards Helles; passed it, swept round, and the Orphan clutched at the sides of the "body" as the aeroplane altered course, for he thought she was slipping sideways. Not a sign of Fritz did he see, but below him lay the end of the Peninsula, its white tents, "W" beach, the hull of the poor oldMajesticshowing clearly under the sea, Achi Baba and the streaks which represented the Turkish trenches. In another ten minutes he looked down on Gaba Tepe, at one of the "Edgar" class firing shells which he could see bursting among the streaks on top of the hills there. Up the coast the aeroplane sped, passed Suvla with its black submarine-net buoys—he counted one hundred and fifty-two of them; the two battleships inside them looked tiny, so did the tents on shore. Then, with another wide sweep over the sea, and bending to the right, he was carried along the left-flank coast till he could see the little gap of Ejelmar Bay, where he and the Sub had tried, that night three months ago, to find Fritz; and beyond it, with some humpy hills between, the sun glittered on a broad sheet of water and a silver streak which came in sight, in and out beyond the hills—the Sea of Marmora and The Narrows.Round swept the aeroplane; he clutched the sides; she steadied and flew back towards Helles again, but not a sign of a submarine could he see; and in fifty-five minutes from the time he had started, he was landed with a gentle bump outside the aerodrome, and found Bubbles waiting for him."Youarea lucky chap," he bubbled. "Did you see Fritz?"The Orphan shook his head. "But I saw The Narrows and old Marmora; wasn't that splendid?""Anybody fire at you?" Bubbles asked."Oh no!" explained the Flying Officer; "there was a bit of a haze over the sea, so I could not go very high—shouldn't have seen Fritz if I had—so it was dangerous to go too near land. We never climbed above 2500 feet."They only just had time to catch the evening boat off to theAchates, so they had to wish their new friend good-bye and hurry back along the beach, the Orphan talking thirteen to the dozen.Pride filled the bosom of this young officer, for he was the only one in the ship who had seen either The Narrows or the Sea of Marmora. "It looks so near to The Narrows!" he said to the Sub that night. "It doesn't look more than an hour's walk. Things have turned out rottenly, haven't they?""Itisrather tragic—really," the Sub said.The first job theAchateshad, after arriving at Kephalo, was to send working parties across to Anzac to help salve some lighters, a tug, and two picket-boats, driven ashore by the first of those gales from the south-west. The first of the fierce gales from the north-east followed, after two days of calm, and drove such heavy seas into Kephalo harbour that the ship had to put to sea, and anchor round the corner of the island, behind another row of submarine nets, in Aliki Bay. She came back as soon as that gale had blown itself out; but on the 27th of November another north-easterly gale commenced, and next day she again had to shift round to Aliki Bay. Here she and all the other ships that had come round for shelter rode out that three days of blizzard which caused such horrible suffering to the troops at Suvla—to British and Turk alike. The temperature on board ship never fell below 30 degrees, but at Suvla it fell to something like 15 or 18, even lower. First of all, before the gale it rained in torrents, and as the water collected and flowed down from the hills behind Anafarta into the valley, it washed over the Turkish trenches, levelling them, and carrying drowned Turks, drowned mules, barbed wire and their posts right over a long section of the British lines, drowning a large number of the British, flooding their trenches, and carrying everything before it till the Salt Lake was reached. When the rain ceased the bitter north-east gale flung itself down from the hills, bringing at first heavy snow; then the terrible cold froze the water in the trenches, and hundreds of our men, up to their middles in it, died of exposure, and very many hundreds suffered from frost-bite.During those three days the troops at Suvla experienced the climax of hardship and exposure. The Turks suffered even more than our own people; and when daylight broke after the worst night, they were left exposed in the open with their trenches swept away, and our men—those whose hands were not too numbed to fire a rifle—shot them down like rabbits. Afterwards, a gentle breeze sprang up from the south-west, and, almost as if in pity, a warm sun shone down on those much-tried armies.On the Tuesday the ships trailed back to Kephalo again, getting a glimpse of Samothrace with its snow-clad peak glittering in the sun—a most gorgeous, exquisite spectacle.They found that the centre one of those three breakwater ships had disappeared entirely, and the head of the harbour behind them, close to the piers, was absolutely littered with wreckage. This centre ship had broken in half on the Sunday night, and the seas sweeping through the gap had hurled all the picket-boats and lighters sheltering behind her on to the shore, in one jumbled, tumbled mass.They presented a most extraordinary sight piled on top of each other, and half buried in a huge mass of seaweed swept in with them. A big distilling steamer, with her rudder gone and her rudder-post smashed, had been driven ashore farther along the bay; beyond her lay a "water-beetle" high and dry, and, still farther along the shore, one of those small provisioning "coaster" steamers which ran between Kephalo and the Peninsula.Salvage work commenced immediately. The Lamp-post and Rawlins took fifty men ashore, and worked, day after day, digging away the seaweed which blocked the little piers, and trying to refloat the least damaged of the steamboats; the Sub, with a number of men, had to rig shears to lift out the engines and boilers of those which were hopelessly smashed—all very unpleasant work, because that seaweed decomposed quickly under a hot sun and gave out the most unpleasant odour.A more pleasing job had Bubbles and the Orphan. With a large working party they commenced to dig a channel through the sand—good, honest, clean sand—in order to refloat a stranded "water-beetle". They paddled about all day and had a huge lark.On the second morning, as they prepared to go ashore, Uncle Podger, on his way to his bath, sang out: "Take your little buckets and spades and go down to the beach, dears, but promise Mummy not to get wet.""We'll promise Uncle a jolly 'thick ear' when we do come back," they laughed. "Come along by the seven-bell boat, bring a basket and some tea 'grub', and we'll have a picnic there.""Cuthbert" came over from Maidos once or twice, just to make "kind enquiries", find out how the salvage operations progressed, and see whether three or four bombs would be of any assistance. They were not; none of them dropped near enough to help, and all much too far away to do any damage.The weather became simply perfect, and after a week's hard work theSwiftsurehad hauled off the distilling ship and one of the "water-beetles", theAchateshad towed off that small steam "coaster", and Bubbles and the Orphan had dug a channel sufficiently deep for a tug to come along and tow off their stranded motor-lighter.That especial job being finished, these two midshipmen again had time to look round and see what life would bring. It brought news of woodcock and partridge—woodcock in the deep sheltered valleys, and partridge on the slopes of the hills. The little Padre lent them his shot-gun, and away they tramped one day, taking the China Doll to "beat" for them and to carry home all the birds. They swore a solemn oath that each should fire alternate shots, an arrangement which made a "right and left" difficult to get when frightened coveys were put up. Bubbles fired the deadly shot which eventually killed a partridge, and, of course, by the time the Orphan had seized the gun the rest of that covey had swooped out of range.They sent the China Doll to retrieve the bird, and sat down to smoke their pipes and shout good advice at him; for the hill-side was covered with boulders and thick scrub, and the China Doll had a big job in front of him. "Keep it up, China Doll; never despair!" they shouted encouragingly as he came back with his hands and knees scratched and bleeding. "'If at first you don't succeed, try, try, try again.' We've got another hour to wait for you. Off you go!"At last the bird was picked up; and in the gun-room that night they held an inquest on it, and found that "it had been well and truly killed by one or more missiles discharged from an explosive weapon, and that no trace of foul play, such as bludgeoning or being strangled, could be discovered".Then came the question as to how it should be "hung", and for how long. The China Doll said that "the proper thing to do was to hang it by the head, and when the corpse dropped off, then it would be just right." They thought of trying the experiment on him, but desisted on the urgent representation of Uncle Podger that, if the China Doll's body dropped off his head, the work of the Ship's Office would be seriously delayed whilst he, Uncle Podger, attended the funeral as chief mourner—and, besides, he had nocrêpeband to go round his arm.Eventually Bubbles and the Orphan ate that bird on the second day—after innumerable visits to the gun-room galley to see how it progressed—and it was as tough as tough could be. They gave the China Doll the gizzard.A week later the little Padre mildly suggested that next time they borrowed his gun they might clean it before they put it back in the case. "It doesn't get quite so rusty," he said apologetically.For many months the southern portion of Anzac—Brighton Beach and Watson's Pier there—had practically been abandoned, because "Beachy Bill", a high-velocity 4.1-inch gun, somewhere up in the Olive Grove, above Gaba Tepe, had the range of the pier so exactly that he would hit the end of it, or lighters lying alongside, with his very first shot of the day, and his fire at night was almost as accurate. Several attempts had been made to destroy him (probably he had several brothers), but these had not been successful.One day—the 10th December—theBacchante, an "Edgar" cruiser, and two monitors went across from Kephalo, and fired a great number of rounds into the Olive Grove. Whether "Beachy Bill" or his brothers were hit or not, no one could actually say; but only one gun fired after that day, and it made such inaccurate shooting as not to interfere with work either on the pier or the beach. It did not fire at all at night.At the time no one, except perhaps Captain Macfarlane, knew the meaning of this great expenditure of ammunition; but two days later, "all hands and the cook" were told off for various jobs, either at Suvla or Anzac, in motor-lighters or picket-boats, or actually on the beaches themselves; and it dawned on the enthusiastic Honourable Mess that, after all, an attempt was to be made to evacuate those places, and that the last prodigal bombardment of the Olive Grove had been for the purpose of finally destroying the guns there, and making it possible to use Brighton Beach and Watson's Pier for the embarkation.So secretly had everything been carried out, that no one in the gun-room knew that most of the stores and the greater part of the guns, horses, and mules had already been withdrawn.They had seen fleet-sweepers and the troop-carriers—theOsmanieh, theErmine,Reindeer,Redbreast,Abassiah, and several others—crowded with troops on their way to Suvla or Anzac; but they had not seen them returning still more densely packed with men, nor the transports with horses, guns, and stores. This had all been done by night.Rumours flew round that though Suvla and Anzac were to be abandoned, the end of the Peninsula, in front of Achi Baba, was to be reinforced by all that remained of the 29th Division, and maintained at all costs.The Lamp-post and Rawlins, ordered to take charge of two "water-beetles", donned their dirty old khaki delightedly, and took over their "commands". The Lamp-post had K26, a single-screw lighter driven by one big motor. K67 belonged to Rawlins, and possessed two little motors driving twin screws. For the first day they were employed in Kephalo harbour, and had a great argument that night as to which would prove the faster. The Lamp-post bet Rawlins a dinner at the club at Malta, or at the first civilized place theAchateswent to, that his one big engine would beat the two small ones.Next day they had the opportunity of deciding, for they were ordered to Suvla. The Lamp-post led the way through the "gate" in the submarine net, and waited outside for Rawlins to come abreast and make a fair start."The first one through Suvla 'gate' to win!" he shouted. "Off we go!" and they raced each other across the twelve miles of sea, the Lamp-post winning his dinner very easily.Now, though the chief stokers—old pensioners—in these two lighters pretended to be just as excited about the race as the midshipmen themselves, actually they were much too wise to press their motors hard, knowing full well that two hours driving at top speed would probably disable them for days. However, the Lamp-post and Rawlins did not know this—they thought they were having a "ding-dong" race—so it did not matter.They arrived there at dusk, just as the usual high-explosive shells dropped on "'A' West" beach, and some little ones fell into the harbour near theCornwallis, others near the poor old distilling ship.Off "'A' West" pier there was now quite a comfortable little harbour, made by two steamers which had been sunk at right angles to each other, with a gap between them just sufficiently wide for two "water-beetles" to pass through side by side.They had helped to fill these two steamers with stones and rubble at Mudros two months ago, so recognized them—theFieramoscaand thePina.On this same day, Bubbles and the Orphan rigged themselves in khaki, joyfully packed away a few things in their battered, old tin cases, and took charge of two picket-boats—the Orphan of one belonging to theSwiftsure(this ship had no midshipmen), and Bubbles of one which had belonged to the ill-fatedMajestic. The unfortunate Hun looked very miserable as he waved "good-bye" to them. He had not regained strength after his attack of dysentery, and Dr. O'Neill would not let him take any job on shore."You've got your D.S.C., old Hun; so don't worry," the Orphan consoled him. "I only wish that I could get it!"CHAPTER XXIThe Evacuation of Suvla BayIn a little wooden hut, perched on a mound just above the landing-places at Kephalo, lived two naval Captains—the Fierce One and the Not So Fierce One.Bubbles, the Orphan, and eight other snotties, with their picket-boats, found themselves handed over to the anything but tender mercies of the Fierce One; and the morning after Rawlins and the Lamp-post had raced their "water-beetles" (or thought they had raced them) across to Suvla, these ten gathered, expectantly, outside this wooden hut, and waited whilst the Captains finished their breakfast and smoked their pipes.All these ten midshipmen were dressed in some sort of khaki except the twoLord Nelsons, who wore ordinary blue uniform, and grinned and nudged each other as though they shared some secret joke which they couldn't possibly divulge.Presently the Fierce One came out, and they all stiffened to attention. He gave a preliminary roar—just to clear his throat and make way for what was coming—rapidly casting his eye over them. "Who's the senior snotty here? Why the—the—the—don't you report to me?"The ten had never thought of that. They muttered, and looked at each other, and at last the very microscopicLord Nelson'smidshipman (known generally as the Cheese-mite) nervously reported: "All midshipmen present, sir.""What's your name?" he growled."The Cheese-m—— Morrison, I mean, sir.""Morrison be hanged! I don't care a tuppenny biscuit what you were christened. What's your boat?""Lord Nelson'sfirst picket-boat, sir.""Um!Lord NelsonNo. 1. That's your name. What in the name of goodness d'you mean by it? This isn't a fancy-dress ball; what are all these individuals doing, coming along here like a lot of dysenteric soldiers?" and he shook his fist at the eight disconcerted midshipmen in khaki. "If I see 'em dressed again except in uniform, I'll—I'll—wring their necks!"Then he went from one to the other, to learn the names of their steamboats, glaring at each, and "sizing" them up as he did so.Bubbles becameMajestic, the OrphanSwiftsure. This having been concluded, he went through them again to make certain that he knew their boats, and from that moment never made a mistake."Lord NelsonNo. 1 and No. 2,Swiftsure, andMajesticfall in on the right—make a gap between you and the others. You four will work at Suvla—the other six at Anzac. You'll all get more orders presently, but remember this. Your job is to take off stragglers on Saturday and Sunday nights—those are the two nights of the evacuation. You'll have some pulling boats in tow, and you are not to leave behind a single man who gets down to the shore. Remember that. Saturday night ought not to be difficult; but on Sunday night, when the last few men rush down with the Turks after 'em, you'll have your work cut out. You'll have to 'wash out' any idea of bullets and nonsense like that, and if any one of you doesn't do his job, I'll—I'll—wring his neck! Oh!" he roared, "you'll wish you'd never met me."A good many of the young officers had begun to wish that already.He went on: "The boats you'll have to tow will come round in a day or two—those that aren't here now; and here's a list of things to be done, one for each of you. Away you go!"He handed them each a paper, and stalked back to the wooden hut, but turned and growled fiercely: "Remember this: every man Jack who is on the Peninsula now is useless to England; every man who gets away is one to the good. Remember that, and do your job, or by the—the—the—I'll wring your necks! Off you go, and don't let me see any more of you in those dirty ragamuffin clothes of yours."They made their way down to the little piers and the wrecked boats which still littered the shore."Youarea rotter, Cheese-mite. You might have told us. You knew it all the time," they said. "We thought we must come in khaki.""I couldn't tell that you were coming like that, and it was a jolly sight too late for you to go back and shift," the Cheese-mite explained."My aunt!" the Orphan said to Bubbles as he read his paper; "wooden boards to be fitted inside the glass windows of cabins. Whatever's that for?""Splinters, I expect. When we're chock-full of Tommies, some will have to crowd below, and a bullet coming in and smashing the glass would fling the bits all round.""They don't expect us to have a warm time—do they?""Not half!" Bubbles grinned.[image]"SCREENED LANTERNS!"They soon stowed away their khaki and shifted into blue uniform, and for the next two days fitted out their boats with maxims, two boxes of belts, towing-spans[#] over the sterns (as on the occasion of the first landing), fitting shields round the steering-wheels of those boats which had none, making screens for hand-lanterns, testing their steam-pumps, and seeing that the thirty or forty items down on their "lists" were on board.[#] Towing-span, a rope or wire passing all round a boat under her gunwales, with a hook secured to the bight at the stern. The painter or tow-rope of a boat to be towed is secured to this hook.On the Thursday morning the Fierce One came out in his fussy little "Z" motor-boat, and all the ten picket-boats followed him, making a circle round him whilst he inspected them.The maxims—he could see them; anchors—he could see them too; but when he shouted through his megaphone "Screened lanterns!" every snotty had to hold up his lantern with one hand and the canvas screen in the other. The same with the semaphore flags, boats' signal-books, axes, compass-boxes, and ammunition-boxes."Work your pumps!" he roared; and after a furious interval all ten picket-boats began squirting jets of water.Then he bellowed "Megaphones!" and all held up their megaphones except the Cheese-mite.He dashed alongsideLord NelsonNo. 1, and seized the Cheese-mite by his coat collar."Where's your megaphone? you—you—you——""Please, sir, I had it this morning; but when that destroyer went past just now the picket-boat rolled, and it went overboard.""I'll roll you overboard," he growled, holding up the Cheese-mite as though he were a kitten. "You'll get another before night, or I'll—I'll——""Knives!" he shouted.Now nearly all the snotties had taken for granted that every man aboard would have one. But only a few had them, and the Fierce One flew in a towering rage.Eventually he took all the picket-boats outside the submarine net to make certain that those maxims would fire; and it can be easily imagined what happened when ten strange maxims were worked by ten not very experienced "hands", in ten bobbing picket-boats, under the supervision of ten much less experienced snotties.A bullet hit the gunwale not two feet from where the Orphan stood, and goodness only knows why there were no casualties. Little, though, cared the Fierce One, so long as he made certain that every machine-gun was in working order.That day they practised towing their pulling-boats—four to each of the Suvla boats, three to each of the Anzac ones.A very busy day they had, for in the evening a transport came into harbour loaded with mules from Suvla, and tried the simple plan of slinging them overboard and letting them swim to the shore.The Orphan and Bubbles were sent away in pulling-cutters to shepherd them in the right direction, and had the time of their lives chasing silly, obstinate mules who wanted to swim out to sea. Eventually they headed them off, and they made a "bee-line" for a battleship, lying with her torpedo-nets "out". It was the funniest sight in the world to see half a dozen mules with their heads looking over the edge of the torpedo-nets, "digging out for daylight", and really quite happy. After a lot of shouting and laughing they were all induced to swim shorewards, and soon scrambled on the beach, shaking themselves like big dogs, rolling in the sand, and looking for the nearest eating-place.During these few days the ten midshipmen heard hundreds of yarns about the preparations for evacuation—how the front trenches had been mined, and many of the reserve and communicating trenches as well; that the only guns to be left behind, if all went well, were a few condemned 18-pounders and 6-inch howitzers. To deceive the Turks on the Sunday night, many rifles were being fixed up in the front trenches with tins lashed to their triggers, and, above these empty tins, others with a hole in the bottom of each. When the last of the troops left the firing-trenches, they would load the rifles, fill the top tins full of water; the water would drip slowly or fast—according to the size of the holes—into the other tins fixed to the triggers, and when these became full, off would go the rifles—at different times. The few motor-lorries and ambulances still remaining kept dashing about in full view of the Turks, to make them think that they were just as numerous as ever; and the few troops in reserve, instead of hiding behind Lala Baba or Chocolate Hill, made themselves more conspicuous in the open.You can understand, as the week went by and that fateful Saturday approached, how tense the excitement grew, and how eagerly everyone watched the barometer and the sky for any change from the gorgeous calm days which succeeded each other. Such a spell of fine weather could not possibly last much longer, and the fate of perhaps fifty thousand men depended much upon it lasting until early Monday morning.The Turks had not yet given any sign that they realized what had been happening or what was about to happen. They still shelled the ships, the beaches, the old empty gun positions just as they used to do, and generally at the same old times; but no one, knowing the ease with which they had previously seemed able to obtain information of our doings, thought it possible that they could actually still be in ignorance.In the middle watch, on Friday night, a huge fire broke out at Anzac. Actually some of the most inflammatory stores prepared for burning on the Sunday night had been set alight accidentally, and made a tremendous blaze.On board theAchatesMr. Meredith, whose watch it was, stood, with the Quartermaster, watching the glare—ten miles away across the sea—and knew that something had gone wrong."That will give the show away," the Quartermaster muttered sadly."I'm afraid it will," Mr. Meredith answered, desperately anxious.That fire burnt all night, but in the morning the Turks never showed the least sign of activity beyond the usual normal sniping and shelling.Saturday dawned absolutely calm—a few flaky, almost stationary clouds showed against the blue sky."Can it hold until Monday morning?"—that was what everyone thought and hoped and prayed.Again the ten midshipmen "fell in" outside the little wooden hut—this time all in their proper blue uniform—and received their orders in writing, each order beginning with the well-known formula: "Being in all respects ready for sea, you will proceed forthwith..." Then followed long detailed orders for every eventuality.Drawing two days' provisions for his own crew and the twenty-four men in his four pulling-boats occupied the rest of the Orphan's morning.At half-past four he shoved off from theAchates—the Hun, looking wistfully after him, waved "good luck"—and he towed his four boats to the trawler told off to tow him to Suvla. Bubbles, coming along with his boats, made fast to another. Before dusk all the trawlers left Kephalo, each with its picket-boat and string of pulling-boats behind it; four headed for Suvla, and the other six towards Anzac.The sea was calm, and the sky gave not the slightest indication of any change in the weather, so that the Orphan and his coxswain—a wiry, active petty officer named Marchant, belonging to theSwiftsure—were in the highest spirits."If it only keeps like this, sir!" the coxswain kept on saying.Before it grew too dark to see properly, they both inspected all the boat's gear to make certain that nothing was out of its place. Down in the cabin the Orphan found some green leaves—cabbage leaves."Heave them overboard," he said. "Whatever are they doing down here?""I thought they were for you, sir. An old stoker brought 'em down; told me to hand 'em over to you, very carefully, and he brought this box too." He picked up a small wooden box about a foot square, with a lot of holes bored in the top and the sides; and the Orphan burst out laughing, for he knew he would find "Kaiser Bill" inside it."That's 'Kaiser Bill'," he said, as he raised the lid and saw the tortoise lying there. "He brings good luck. He came in our boat when the Lancashire Fusiliers landed, so I suppose old Fletcher thinks he ought to take a hand in this job as well—the funny old man!""He's a rum-looking beast for a mascot, isn't he!" Marchant grinned, holding up "Kaiser Bill" with his legs sprawling beneath his shell, and his head peeping slyly out as though he knew all about everything.The Orphan put him and his box down below the water-line, where no bullets could reach him.A nearly full moon rose and gave sufficient light to avoid any other craft on their way across, and in a little over an hour and a half they had almost reached the nets outside Suvla.The Orphan slipped his tow-rope, and so did Bubbles, and both of them steamed round to a little pier which had been constructed on the north side of Suvla Point—a pier called Saunders Pier.They reported themselves to the naval Pier-master; and the Orphan, leaving his two big boats—a launch and pinnace—alongside this pier, towed the other two—two cutters—along the left-flank coast, and anchored them close inshore. Their crews knew the countersign and password, and if any men hailed them properly from shore, they were ordered to pull in and take them off.For the next three hours the Orphan was employed taking off officers and their baggage from "'A' West", going in through the gap between the sunkenFieramoscaandPina, and steaming out again, dodging empty motor-lighters being warped in through the gap, and full motor-lighters being warped out. He took them to theRedbreast, lying out near the nets, and then returned to Saunders Pier and found his two big boats loaded with rifles and baggage of all sorts.These he towed off to two trawlers anchored close by, waited for them to be emptied, and brought them back again to Saunders Pier. After that he lay off the pier for nearly an hour, and had some food and a smoke. The men boiled some water and made cocoa over a bogey, and he had a jolly, happy, exciting time yarning with Marchant, and listening to occasional rifle-shots which came from farther away towards the left flank—Jephson's Post way. Bubbles came back from patrolling the coast, and lay alongside him. "It's all quiet there along the coast, just a rifle-shot every now and then; no one along the beach. Isn't it a perfect night?"It was actually the most perfect night imaginable; hardly a breath of wind, hardly a ripple on the water, and the moon lighted up the cliffs and Suvla Point as distinctly as in day-time. Hardly a sound reached them, and the rocks of Suvla Point prevented them seeing anything going on inside the bay. It was all as peaceful as a picnic.But about half-past one those two trawlers, to which the Orphan had taken his boats with the baggage, went aground; and the Orphan was sent round to "'A' West", inside the bay, to bring out the Senior Beach-master. For nearly four hours he worked, laying out anchors and taking wires across to a big tug.Some time after six o'clock, just before the moon actually disappeared, and before the two trawlers floated off, he had to go along the coast, pick up his two cutters—they had seen or heard nothing—then pick up the big launch and pinnace, and tow them back to Kephalo. It was only when he went back to Saunders Pier for those two big boats that the Orphan heard that everything had "gone off" without a single hitch, and without the Turks having shown the least sign that their suspicions had been aroused.Hearing this, you can imagine how joyfully he and Marchant, the coxswain, started on their twelve-mile journey back to Kephalo. Those tows of boats must be away, out of sight, before daylight; so they put their "best leg foremost", and steamed in through the harbour just after seven o'clock, finding a large captured German steamer anchored there, and simply packed with troops from Suvla.Most of the other ten picket-boats had arrived back previously, because the night's job at Anzac had been successfully completed by half-past one in the morning, and the six boats on duty there had started back not very long afterwards.The excitement and the enthusiasm of everyone, due to the successful accomplishment of the first night's work, kept the midshipmen awake. Most of the picket-boats gathered close together under the lee of the sunkenOruba. The crews cooked their breakfasts, ate them—jolly good rations of army bacon, any amount of bread and jam—yarned, and laughed, and smoked. They fetched "Kaiser Bill" out of his box and tempted him with a cabbage leaf, but he turned up his nose at it. Then Bubbles and the Orphan went alongside theAchatesto coal and water; rushed inboard to get a wash and a bit more breakfast, to tell everyone down in the gun-room—the Hun, the China Doll, Uncle Podger, and the Pimple—everything that had happened, and go back to their boats again."You didn't mind me sending you 'Kaiser Bill'?" Fletcher, waiting outside the gun-room, asked the Orphan."Rather not; it was jolly good of you to lend him to us. He brought us good luck the first night, at any rate.""I'm sure he'll bring you luck to-night as well, sir."Precious little "stand easy" did the Orphan and his crew get that day. TheSwiftsure'spicket-boat was about the best-steaming boat of the ten, and the Fierce One used her all day, going about the harbour and supervising everything that went on. He and his crew managed to get a meal in the middle of the day, and then were employed disembarking and clearing the transport of all the troops she had brought across the previous night.At half-past four on that Sunday afternoon, the 19th December, all ten picket-boats, towed by as many trawlers, and their pulling-boats behind them, started off again for Anzac and Suvla.The weather showed not a sign of changing, and before they reached Suvla the darkness disappeared under a moon almost more perfect than the night before. It really was more perfect, because a few thin clouds floated slowly across it; and though they hardly lessened the light it gave, they prevented shadows.When they neared Suvla the picket-boat slipped, and did just as she had done the night before: anchored her two cutters along the cliffs beyond Suvla Point, and left the two big boats alongside Saunders Pier. The Orphan then patrolled very slowly along the coast, but everything was quiet except for a very few solitary rifle-shots; and these, he thought, were probably the rifles with the tin cans tied to their triggers going "off" when their tins filled. No stragglers showed on top of the cliffs nor down on the beach, and it was almost impossible to realize that up above him the trenches were being silently evacuated, and that the soldiers had already commenced, sections at a time, to file down that sandy, steep path which he and the Lamp-post had followed, on their way back from the Naval Observation Post, that ripping afternoon in September.At about ten o'clock Bubbles, almost incoherent with excitement, came along in the oldMajestic'spicket-boat and relieved him."You have to go back to Saunders Pier," he stuttered and burbled, "and take back your cutters. I've to do a bit of patrolling."The Orphan, picking up his anchored cutters and their crews, towed them to this pier, found his two big boats already crowded with troops, and took them off to two trawlers lying outside (those two which had run aground the previous night had been refloated shortly after daylight). For the next three hours he went backwards and forwards between trawlers and pier, and then, leaving his boats for Bubbles to carry on the good work, was ordered round to "'A' West", inside the Bay. On the way, he and the coxswain and the crew had some food—bread and meat sandwiches, water to wash them down. No food could be cooked and no cocoa made this night, because strict orders had been given that not a light had to be shown—not even the cooking bogey could be lighted.Here, at "'A' West", he was in the thick of everything, jostling and nosing his way in and out among the picket-boats and motor-lighters struggling to get in or out by that gap between theFieramoscaand thePina.On the pier they told him that everything was "going all right", and that the Turks showed no signs of leaving their trenches. The excitement as boatloads of men, horses, and stores went off to the ships, and as he helped with officers and their baggage, kept him oblivious of time or fatigue.By four o'clock that morning the evacuation had been successfully accomplished. He happened to have gone to the Beach-master's office at about that time with a message. As he entered, the Beach-master put down his telephone and smiled grimly to a military officer there. "They've just telephoned from 'C' beach to say they are finished, and the naval beach-party is now embarking. Not a soldier left behind.""I expected to be on my way to Constantinople by this time—a prisoner," the weary officer replied."It's about time we packed up too. There's only a little more big baggage, and perhaps a hundred and fifty men of the beach parties, military landing-officers, and your people to go off from here, and that finishes the bag of tricks. Haven't we pulled their legs? Listen! they're sniping just as usual, up there. I'm just going round to get those stores properly started burning, and then pack up. I'm really sorry to leave, for some reasons," he said, glancing round his tiny little office "dug-out", with the bare rock on one side and the sand-bag walls.He sent the Orphan, with one of the Pier-masters, to make a last search of the left flank. Off they went, rounded Suvla Point, and worked slowly along under the foot of the cliffs again, the Pier-master hailing the shore occasionally through a megaphone. Not a sound came back, except the echo from the face of the cliffs. They went some two miles along the coast, turned, and steamed back quickly, because they saw the glare of the burning fires, and thought that now, at any rate, the Turks would realize what had happened, and would come tearing down. Suvla Point and Saunders Pier were lighted up by the crackling, leaping flames, and in his four boats, still lying alongside the pier, the last of the people to leave Suvla had crowded. Four or five army officers came across to the less crowded picket-boat, and then, with an extraordinary feeling of exhilaration, he towed them off to the waiting trawlers, and stood off whilst those last people crowded into them.This accomplished, he received orders to anchor his boats, and, with that same Pier-master, to make another last search along the cliffs on the left flank.Away he went, and perhaps not more than half a mile—certainly not a mile—from the end of Suvla Point they saw a small group of dark figures on top of the cliffs. The Pier-master, a lusty naval lieutenant, hailed them through his megaphone; and a voice shouted back: "We're English! We're English!""That's funny," said the Pier-master. "Edge in a little closer; get your maxim ready."The coxswain steered in towards the shore, and again the Pier-master hailed, and again a single voice called back: "We're English! We're English!""Well, if theywereEnglish, they wouldallshout," he said. "Keep her out! They are Turks, those chaps; probably a patrol which has pushed along the edge of the cliffs and does not know what to make of things. They would make a 'hullabaloo', right enough, if they were our chaps left behind."The picket-boat steamed along under the cliffs, hailing every now and then, until they had passed the place where the left-flank trenches, coming down from Jephson's Post, touched the shore. Not a man could be seen, nor did any answer come back in response to the hails through the megaphone."That's finish!" the Pier-master told the Orphan. "Turn her round." Over went the wheel, round twisted the picket-boat, back she steamed to where the four boats lay, out beyond Suvla Point; and although the moon had disappeared by this time, there was not the slightest difficulty in finding them, for the whole water reflected the flames of the burning stores, and the boats and the men's faces showed up plainly.The picket-boat took them in tow, and commenced to steam across to Kephalo. Behind her the flames leapt fiercely along the sweep of the bay, and every now and again explosions took place, hurling masses of flame and sparks high in the air. Silhouetted black against these fires was theCornwallisbattleship, left behind to keep the fires burning with her shells—if necessary—and to destroy in the morning the few wooden lighters which had been left behind.Down along the coast at Anzac the sea was ruddy with the huge fires burning there."Well, if they've only been as successful down there, it's been a mighty good show," the Pier-master said as they watched them. "We've only left four condemned guns—blown them up, too—and not a single man, horse, or mule; and we've even taken off the goats belonging to the Indian Transport Column. My hat! it's simply wonderful; I'm going to coil up and do a little 'shut eye' down in the cabin. I have not slept for nearly four days.""'Kaiser Bill' is down there. I do believe he has brought luck," the Orphan burst out; and then had to explain who "Kaiser Bill" was.The coxswain, sweeping his hand astern towards Anafarta, called down: "Look, sir, there comes the dawn. We wondered if the weather would hold till Monday, and, thank God! it has."The Orphan looked, and, hardly noticeable behind the bright glare of the fires, saw the pale light of dawn behind the Anafarta hills.There was no longer any need for precautions. The "bogey" on the engine-room casings soon burnt brightly, and soon he and Marchant were sharing a big bowl of cocoa, and ravenously eating some more clumsy sandwiches which the men cut for them. Neither of them as yet felt sleepy, because the excitement of success kept them wide awake, though neither had slept for two whole days and nights.By seven-thirty it became light enough for them to see, ahead of them, on their way from Suvla or Anzac, ten or twelve "water-beetles", a dozen or more trawlers, with long strings of transports' boats, pontoons, and lighters towing behind them; some twenty steamboats, also with their "tows", and several small tugs. The Suvla distilling steamer—theBacchus—which for four months had been constantly shelled, was steaming on her way to Mudros; and patrolling destroyers, trawlers, and drifters swept the sea just as they always had done, and just as though nothing had happened.Boom! Boom! came the rumble and thud of the firing of two big guns."TheCornwallis, sir, at Suvla," the coxswain said, turning to look, and making the Orphan turn to watch Turkish shells bursting down by the water's edge—just as usual. They had commenced their early morning "hate"—on empty beaches."By all that is wonderful, sir!" said the coxswain.At half-past eight the picket-boat entered Kephalo harbour; and the Orphan knew, by the cheering which greeted him from the troops packed together aboard two large transports anchored inside, that the evacuation of Anzac had been completed as successfully as that at Suvla.He turned over his four boats to a battleship, and threaded his way through the throng of steamboats, trawlers, and motor-lighters which jostled each other in the harbour, eventually reached the shore, and landed to report himself.He found the Fierce One, who had only just returned from Suvla, and the Not So Fierce One at breakfast in their little wooden hut."Hum! You've come back, have you?" growled the Fierce One. "A very good two nights' work; very good, indeed!"The Not So Fierce One, looking at the Orphan, said: "You look pretty well fagged out; have a cup of tea, or something."
"My! but that was warm," the Sub said, drawing a deep breath. "That was the hottest bit of fire I've had yet; it beats Ajano. I've never heard so many bullets at the same time. Phew! One lucky shot, and the boat might have been disabled."
"We don't have much luck, do we?" the Orphan said, when he had recovered his normal state of mind.
"No, we don't. Still, there wasn't a submarine there—of that I'm certain. We were sent to find that out—so never mind. Phew! That was hotter than I liked it—it was. I can't think how they missed us."
TheGrampusescorted the picket-boat back to Suvla Point, and just after the sun had risen and the hands had been turned out, she ran under the stern of theAchates, and the Sub and the Orphan climbed up the "jumping-ladder".
The Lamp-post, with a relief crew, stood waiting to take over the picket-boat.
"No luck, Lampy; nothing doing," the Orphan said. But his pal was too interested watching the colour effect of the sunrise on the mountain top of Samothrace—to the right of Imbros—and made the tired Orphan look at it too. "Bother old Samothrace, Lampy! I want something to eat. I hope they won't start shellingus" (a big shell had just burst on the beach, opposite the ship) "till I've had a bath and my breakfast. Where are you going?"
"They ran a lighter ashore at 'C' beach last night, and I've to go and clear her, and try to get her off."
"C" beach was round Nebuchadnezzar Point, out of sight behind Lala Baba, and the Turks shelled most things that went there—at any odd hour of the day.
"Poor old Lampy! They'll start shelling you directly you go there—they did me yesterday. Bath—breakfast—sleep—that's what I'm going to do. Nighty! Nighty!"
"Swish-sh-sh—flom-p" went a shell, half-way between the distilling ship and theAchates.
"R-r-r-omp" burst a high explosive on the beach. Another shell, falling into the water close to theAchates, burst, and the smoke drifted along the surface to her bows.
"Bugler! Bugler! Sound the 'Retire'!" sang out Mr. Meredith, on watch. "Get away in that boat of yours," he told the Lamp-post, as the old crew came up the jumping-ladder, and the relief crew waited to take their place. "Coal and water her when this 'show's' finished."
"Good luck to 'C' beach and the lighter, old Lampy! Don't duck when they come along. Nighty! Nighty!" the Orphan called out to him, and went below, as another wailing swish sighed through the air over the ship.
Outside X2 casemate the China Doll leant against the thin armour, with his sponge and soap in his hand and a towel round him. "Where are those horrid shell dropping? Anywhere near us?" he asked, blinking his eyes.
The Pink Rat, inside the casemate, looked very miserable. "Any luck, Orphan?" he asked nervously.
"I'm going to 'bag' your baths. I'm so sleepy I can't wait till these silly old Turks have finished," the Orphan said, and sang out for Barnes to get him a cup of tea.
It was now four weeks since the night of the Suvla landing, and, as you have heard, flies were more of a plague on shore than they had been when theAchates'midshipmen left "W" beach. They swarmed on board the ships. Bubbles declared that you could see them sitting along the gunwales of every boat that came off from the beach, and that directly it got alongside they flew on board and made themselves at home. The Honourable Mess presented the China Doll with a "swatter", and made him spend most of his waking hours killing flies in the gun-room, but the more he killed the more flew in through the scuttles or from the mess-deck. Both in the ward-room and the gun-room the noise of the fly "swatters" went on continuously all through the daylight hours.
Dysentery commenced to rage throughout the Army; and whether the flies brought it off from shore or whether they did not, dysentery commenced to break out among the ships' companies, especially among those men who worked in boats, or those living ashore—signalmen and beach-party men—all who were frequently in contact with the soldiers. The Pink Rat, grown visibly thinner, and the Hun both went on the sick-list. They lay in cots on the half-deck, but had often to turn out and get behind the armour, on one or other of the casemates, when the Turks' shells began whistling over the skylight above them. They lived chiefly on condensed milk—"poor brutes", as the China Doll said sympathetically.
So many of those "stray" snotties who had lodged in theAchateshad by now been sent back to their own ships, ill, that the Honourable Mess had the gun-room almost to themselves again. Nor had those precious stores been seriously raided this time, so they had no real grievance.
At last theAchatesherself received orders to return to Mudros to coal and "rest"; and on the 6th September she slipped out through the submarine "gate" after dark, left the twinkling camp-fires of Suvla behind her, and steamed through the double row of submarine nets at Mudros early next morning.
CHAPTER XX
Hard Work at Mudros
TheAchateshad not been at Mudros for nearly three months and a half, and during this period the appearance of the shores on either side of the harbour had changed very greatly indeed. Where, previously, fifty tents or marquees had stood, there were now thousands—multitudes of them—the French on the east, the British on the west side. The French, anticipating a winter campaign, had already built rows of wooden barrack-huts; the British had begun to do so.
Stone and brick buildings for offices, workshops, and store-houses, a narrow-gauge railway with petrol-driven engines, electric generating stations, half a dozen substantial piers, and miles and miles of roads—all had been built since the end of April. In the harbour itself lay more transports, store ships, colliers, oil ships, and water-tank ships than before the first landing. A line of French battleships faced a line of British. Monitors big and monitors little, cruisers, scouts, and sloops off duty, coaled, provisioned, and rested prior to returning to their bombarding or submarine-hunting jobs. Up in a corner, near Mudros West, and opposite Turkish Pier, lay theBlenheim, the mother ship of destroyers, surrounded by those of her children off duty. At another part of the harbour the submarines, resting after having come down from the Sea of Marmora through the nets across the Dardanelles, or preparing calmly to go up there again, nestled alongside theAdamant. Two or three white hospital ships were at anchor inside the harbour; eight or nine out beyond the nets at the entrance. Among all these puffed and snorted a great number of motor-lighters, the "water-beetles"—doing all the work of moving troops and stores, and doing it marvellously well. In fact, it is difficult to imagine how the work would have gone on without them.
The first day of her "rest" theAchatescoaled, and on the second took in provisions from the littleDago. This little steamer ran between Malta and Mudros with frozen meat and vegetables for the fleet. She also at times brought the private stores ordered by the gun-room messman, so that the Honourable Mess had a warm spot in their hearts for her.
That week's rest extended for nearly two months and a half. During this time, so many of the officers and men were employed away from the ship that theAchatesbecame immobilized, and did not take her turn for "guard" duties or as "emergency" ship. Every morning sometimes as many as two hundred and fifty of her men were called for by the "water-beetles", and taken away to coal leviathan transports, or to dig up rubble and load it into some steamers which were being prepared to be sunk as breakwaters off the various beaches on the Peninsula. The big steamerOrubapresently arrived, and theAchateshad the job of dismantling her and preparing her to be sunk at Kephalo.
Those coaling jobs did not appeal to the snotties, though even they had their compensations, as the Orphan proved when he came back from coaling theMauretaniafor three whole days, dirty and tired, but with tales of pleasant meals on board her, and hugely proud because he had managed to buy two boxes of kippers and one of haddock.
For a whole week, each of the Honourable Mess had a kipper or a haddock for breakfast, and Bubbles considered that "it wasn't such a rotten war after all".
The Pink Rat about this time finally broke down, and had to be sent to the naval hospital shipSoudanwith a recurrence of his old "W beach" dysentery. He never rejoined theAchates, and on the broad shoulders of Bubbles devolved his light duties as "senior snotty".
Flies were troublesome, but not so bad as at Suvla, and the weather remained gloriously fine until the end of October.
Every evening after "seven-bell" tea, whenever it was possible to obtain a boat—a whaler or a gig—as many of the Honourable Mess as could get away would pull or sail down to the harbour entrance, land, cross over a narrow neck of land near the wireless station, and bathe in a delightful little cove; afterwards they would kick a football about on some level ground there, and sail or pull back with grand appetites for dinner. Why the China Doll was never drowned on those expeditions it is difficult to explain.
Two football grounds had been made, quite close to this "wireless" station, and the use of them was given to each ship in turn—two matches a day on each. So, often the ward-room and gun-room combined to play the officers of other ships; often, too, the men arranged matches between different parts of the ship—Bubbles and his fo'c'sle men—the Orphan and the Sub with their foretop men—the War Baby and his marines—the Lamp-post and Rawlins with their quarter-deck men.
Many good games they had, and if only there had been any cheering news, this period would have been a very pleasant one. But nothing went well anywhere. The great "push" in Flanders and France had come to a full stop; the Russians only just managed to keep the Germans from advancing—in fact, but for the approach of winter, people wondered whether they could keep them out of Petrograd (no one could get used to that name), and whilst the Germans and Austrians swept across the Danube into Serbia, the Bulgarians poured across the eastern frontier. Troops in thousands, French and British, had been rushed across to Salonica, but Greece still "sat on the fence"; she would not help, and the French and British arrived too late to prevent Serbia being overwhelmed. No attempt had been made on the Peninsula to advance; and dysentery raged in the army—thousands of cases being taken away every week. The number of German submarines in the Mediterranean had become more numerous, and the area to patrol with trawlers, destroyers, scouts, and sloops was so vast that the difficulties of suppressing them grew enormously. One thing alone was satisfactory: enough stores had been landed on the various beaches to maintain the army there, at a "pinch", for six weeks—long enough to tide over any probable period of bad weather, when landing might be impossible. There was also a certain satisfaction in seeing the constant stream of ships which came in through the harbour entrance every morning, and to know that they had safely run the gauntlet of the submarines; but everyone realized that "The Great Adventure" had failed, and that to maintain the army in its present precarious footing on the Peninsula was causing an immense drain on the resources of British shipping, without any apparent disadvantage to the enemy.
One bright spot cheered everyone—the deeds of our own submarines in the Sea of Marmora. But for them, the prestige of the Allies in the East would have fallen to a very low ebb at that time.
By the middle of October "all white" uniform changed to "all blue", and this marked the commencement of cooler weather.
Lord Kitchener arrived early in November, inspected all the army "positions", and went away again.
Till his coming, there had been some speculations as to the possibility of evacuating the Peninsula; but the extraordinary difficulties of this operation had been so evident, that those two military experts, the China Doll and the Pimple, had long since decided that it could not be accomplished without tremendous loss of life, a huge number of men left behind as prisoners, and most of the guns abandoned.
Now, again, everyone wondered what Lord Kitchener thought, and what would happen.
After his departure the weather broke up temporarily, and a south-westerly gale—only a mild one—left Suvla and Anzac and Cape Helles beaches strewn with wrecked or stranded picket-boats, lighters, and "water-beetles".
In the third week of November theAchatesreceived the welcome order to proceed to Kephalo. The full moon shone brilliantly as she slipped out through the nets, and off she went. Two hours after leaving Mudros the track of one torpedo shot across her bows, and half a minute later another passed some eighty yards astern of her—Fritz, or one of his brothers, had fired two torpedoes—so she increased speed and "zig-zagged".
The danger had vanished by the time it had been realized; and all that the Honourable Mess and the gramophone knew about it, was the sudden rushing down of men to close those water-tight doors and hatchways which remained open, and a lurid description from the Pimple afterwards. It did not interrupt the delightful concert with worn-out records and blunted needles.
By three o'clock she entered the submarine-net "gate" at Kephalo; and when the sun rose next morning it shot up from behind Achi Baba, and once again they heard the distant booming of guns.
Kephalo, at the corner of Imbros Island nearest to the Peninsula, is a narrow harbour with high hills on one side and a narrow spit of land on the other. It is entirely open to the north-east—the quarter from which the worst of the winter gales blow—so three ships, including the bigOruba, had been sunk across it, higher up, to give protection to the little piers built there, and to the picket-boats, motor-lighters, and ordinary lighters which worked round them.
Kephalo had become the advanced base of Anzac and Suvla, ten and twelve miles away respectively, and it was absolutely necessary that troops and stores should be able to be landed or embarked at all times. Here, too, were the aerodromes which "Cuthbert" and his brothers so delighted to bomb. One of these was stationed on the low spit of ground; and the Orphan, who had the knack of making friends with everyone, and the knack of generally being in the right place at the right moment, managed one afternoon to be taken "up" in a reconnoitring aeroplane. He and Bubbles had strolled along to the aerodrome, wandered round until someone invited them to tea in the "mess"; and whilst in the middle of it, the "Flying Officer" on duty received an urgent signal: "Hostile submarine reported off Gaba Tepe, steering S.W.; please send aeroplane reconnaissance to search".
"Confounded nuisance!" exclaimed the Flying Officer. "I wanted to write some letters; the mail goes to-morrow morning. Well, you chaps can tell a submarine from a shark, I suppose; which of you would like to come along and spot old Fritz?"
They both grinned with delight; but Bubbles carried too much weight—at least a stone and a half more than the Orphan—so the Orphan was chosen.
The emergency aeroplane—a biplane—rested on its wheels outside the sheds. They walked across to it.
"Climb in!" said the Flying Officer. "No, you won't want a coat; stick on this cap and goggles—pull the flap down over your ears—and get in as you are; we shan't be away more than an hour. Sit down behind; I've altered the control gear—can work it from the front seat."
The Orphan had never been in an aeroplane before, and tingled with excitement. He sat down and winked at the disappointed Bubbles whilst his new friend climbed up in front of him and began to play about with levers and switches. "If you do see Fritz, signal with your hand—bang me on the back—it's no good shouting: I shan't be able to hear you."
The blades began whizzing round as the engine buzzed; men gave the machine a shove and a push; the blades went so fast that they only made a mist in front of the Orphan's eyes; the ground dropped away, and he shouted to Bubbles to wait for him—though it wasn't much use shouting, because of the noise of the engines.
Up they went, passing over theSwiftsure, theAchates, and the other ships in the harbour, and out beyond the line of submarine-net buoys.
They headed right over the sea, first of all towards Helles; passed it, swept round, and the Orphan clutched at the sides of the "body" as the aeroplane altered course, for he thought she was slipping sideways. Not a sign of Fritz did he see, but below him lay the end of the Peninsula, its white tents, "W" beach, the hull of the poor oldMajesticshowing clearly under the sea, Achi Baba and the streaks which represented the Turkish trenches. In another ten minutes he looked down on Gaba Tepe, at one of the "Edgar" class firing shells which he could see bursting among the streaks on top of the hills there. Up the coast the aeroplane sped, passed Suvla with its black submarine-net buoys—he counted one hundred and fifty-two of them; the two battleships inside them looked tiny, so did the tents on shore. Then, with another wide sweep over the sea, and bending to the right, he was carried along the left-flank coast till he could see the little gap of Ejelmar Bay, where he and the Sub had tried, that night three months ago, to find Fritz; and beyond it, with some humpy hills between, the sun glittered on a broad sheet of water and a silver streak which came in sight, in and out beyond the hills—the Sea of Marmora and The Narrows.
Round swept the aeroplane; he clutched the sides; she steadied and flew back towards Helles again, but not a sign of a submarine could he see; and in fifty-five minutes from the time he had started, he was landed with a gentle bump outside the aerodrome, and found Bubbles waiting for him.
"Youarea lucky chap," he bubbled. "Did you see Fritz?"
The Orphan shook his head. "But I saw The Narrows and old Marmora; wasn't that splendid?"
"Anybody fire at you?" Bubbles asked.
"Oh no!" explained the Flying Officer; "there was a bit of a haze over the sea, so I could not go very high—shouldn't have seen Fritz if I had—so it was dangerous to go too near land. We never climbed above 2500 feet."
They only just had time to catch the evening boat off to theAchates, so they had to wish their new friend good-bye and hurry back along the beach, the Orphan talking thirteen to the dozen.
Pride filled the bosom of this young officer, for he was the only one in the ship who had seen either The Narrows or the Sea of Marmora. "It looks so near to The Narrows!" he said to the Sub that night. "It doesn't look more than an hour's walk. Things have turned out rottenly, haven't they?"
"Itisrather tragic—really," the Sub said.
The first job theAchateshad, after arriving at Kephalo, was to send working parties across to Anzac to help salve some lighters, a tug, and two picket-boats, driven ashore by the first of those gales from the south-west. The first of the fierce gales from the north-east followed, after two days of calm, and drove such heavy seas into Kephalo harbour that the ship had to put to sea, and anchor round the corner of the island, behind another row of submarine nets, in Aliki Bay. She came back as soon as that gale had blown itself out; but on the 27th of November another north-easterly gale commenced, and next day she again had to shift round to Aliki Bay. Here she and all the other ships that had come round for shelter rode out that three days of blizzard which caused such horrible suffering to the troops at Suvla—to British and Turk alike. The temperature on board ship never fell below 30 degrees, but at Suvla it fell to something like 15 or 18, even lower. First of all, before the gale it rained in torrents, and as the water collected and flowed down from the hills behind Anafarta into the valley, it washed over the Turkish trenches, levelling them, and carrying drowned Turks, drowned mules, barbed wire and their posts right over a long section of the British lines, drowning a large number of the British, flooding their trenches, and carrying everything before it till the Salt Lake was reached. When the rain ceased the bitter north-east gale flung itself down from the hills, bringing at first heavy snow; then the terrible cold froze the water in the trenches, and hundreds of our men, up to their middles in it, died of exposure, and very many hundreds suffered from frost-bite.
During those three days the troops at Suvla experienced the climax of hardship and exposure. The Turks suffered even more than our own people; and when daylight broke after the worst night, they were left exposed in the open with their trenches swept away, and our men—those whose hands were not too numbed to fire a rifle—shot them down like rabbits. Afterwards, a gentle breeze sprang up from the south-west, and, almost as if in pity, a warm sun shone down on those much-tried armies.
On the Tuesday the ships trailed back to Kephalo again, getting a glimpse of Samothrace with its snow-clad peak glittering in the sun—a most gorgeous, exquisite spectacle.
They found that the centre one of those three breakwater ships had disappeared entirely, and the head of the harbour behind them, close to the piers, was absolutely littered with wreckage. This centre ship had broken in half on the Sunday night, and the seas sweeping through the gap had hurled all the picket-boats and lighters sheltering behind her on to the shore, in one jumbled, tumbled mass.
They presented a most extraordinary sight piled on top of each other, and half buried in a huge mass of seaweed swept in with them. A big distilling steamer, with her rudder gone and her rudder-post smashed, had been driven ashore farther along the bay; beyond her lay a "water-beetle" high and dry, and, still farther along the shore, one of those small provisioning "coaster" steamers which ran between Kephalo and the Peninsula.
Salvage work commenced immediately. The Lamp-post and Rawlins took fifty men ashore, and worked, day after day, digging away the seaweed which blocked the little piers, and trying to refloat the least damaged of the steamboats; the Sub, with a number of men, had to rig shears to lift out the engines and boilers of those which were hopelessly smashed—all very unpleasant work, because that seaweed decomposed quickly under a hot sun and gave out the most unpleasant odour.
A more pleasing job had Bubbles and the Orphan. With a large working party they commenced to dig a channel through the sand—good, honest, clean sand—in order to refloat a stranded "water-beetle". They paddled about all day and had a huge lark.
On the second morning, as they prepared to go ashore, Uncle Podger, on his way to his bath, sang out: "Take your little buckets and spades and go down to the beach, dears, but promise Mummy not to get wet."
"We'll promise Uncle a jolly 'thick ear' when we do come back," they laughed. "Come along by the seven-bell boat, bring a basket and some tea 'grub', and we'll have a picnic there."
"Cuthbert" came over from Maidos once or twice, just to make "kind enquiries", find out how the salvage operations progressed, and see whether three or four bombs would be of any assistance. They were not; none of them dropped near enough to help, and all much too far away to do any damage.
The weather became simply perfect, and after a week's hard work theSwiftsurehad hauled off the distilling ship and one of the "water-beetles", theAchateshad towed off that small steam "coaster", and Bubbles and the Orphan had dug a channel sufficiently deep for a tug to come along and tow off their stranded motor-lighter.
That especial job being finished, these two midshipmen again had time to look round and see what life would bring. It brought news of woodcock and partridge—woodcock in the deep sheltered valleys, and partridge on the slopes of the hills. The little Padre lent them his shot-gun, and away they tramped one day, taking the China Doll to "beat" for them and to carry home all the birds. They swore a solemn oath that each should fire alternate shots, an arrangement which made a "right and left" difficult to get when frightened coveys were put up. Bubbles fired the deadly shot which eventually killed a partridge, and, of course, by the time the Orphan had seized the gun the rest of that covey had swooped out of range.
They sent the China Doll to retrieve the bird, and sat down to smoke their pipes and shout good advice at him; for the hill-side was covered with boulders and thick scrub, and the China Doll had a big job in front of him. "Keep it up, China Doll; never despair!" they shouted encouragingly as he came back with his hands and knees scratched and bleeding. "'If at first you don't succeed, try, try, try again.' We've got another hour to wait for you. Off you go!"
At last the bird was picked up; and in the gun-room that night they held an inquest on it, and found that "it had been well and truly killed by one or more missiles discharged from an explosive weapon, and that no trace of foul play, such as bludgeoning or being strangled, could be discovered".
Then came the question as to how it should be "hung", and for how long. The China Doll said that "the proper thing to do was to hang it by the head, and when the corpse dropped off, then it would be just right." They thought of trying the experiment on him, but desisted on the urgent representation of Uncle Podger that, if the China Doll's body dropped off his head, the work of the Ship's Office would be seriously delayed whilst he, Uncle Podger, attended the funeral as chief mourner—and, besides, he had nocrêpeband to go round his arm.
Eventually Bubbles and the Orphan ate that bird on the second day—after innumerable visits to the gun-room galley to see how it progressed—and it was as tough as tough could be. They gave the China Doll the gizzard.
A week later the little Padre mildly suggested that next time they borrowed his gun they might clean it before they put it back in the case. "It doesn't get quite so rusty," he said apologetically.
For many months the southern portion of Anzac—Brighton Beach and Watson's Pier there—had practically been abandoned, because "Beachy Bill", a high-velocity 4.1-inch gun, somewhere up in the Olive Grove, above Gaba Tepe, had the range of the pier so exactly that he would hit the end of it, or lighters lying alongside, with his very first shot of the day, and his fire at night was almost as accurate. Several attempts had been made to destroy him (probably he had several brothers), but these had not been successful.
One day—the 10th December—theBacchante, an "Edgar" cruiser, and two monitors went across from Kephalo, and fired a great number of rounds into the Olive Grove. Whether "Beachy Bill" or his brothers were hit or not, no one could actually say; but only one gun fired after that day, and it made such inaccurate shooting as not to interfere with work either on the pier or the beach. It did not fire at all at night.
At the time no one, except perhaps Captain Macfarlane, knew the meaning of this great expenditure of ammunition; but two days later, "all hands and the cook" were told off for various jobs, either at Suvla or Anzac, in motor-lighters or picket-boats, or actually on the beaches themselves; and it dawned on the enthusiastic Honourable Mess that, after all, an attempt was to be made to evacuate those places, and that the last prodigal bombardment of the Olive Grove had been for the purpose of finally destroying the guns there, and making it possible to use Brighton Beach and Watson's Pier for the embarkation.
So secretly had everything been carried out, that no one in the gun-room knew that most of the stores and the greater part of the guns, horses, and mules had already been withdrawn.
They had seen fleet-sweepers and the troop-carriers—theOsmanieh, theErmine,Reindeer,Redbreast,Abassiah, and several others—crowded with troops on their way to Suvla or Anzac; but they had not seen them returning still more densely packed with men, nor the transports with horses, guns, and stores. This had all been done by night.
Rumours flew round that though Suvla and Anzac were to be abandoned, the end of the Peninsula, in front of Achi Baba, was to be reinforced by all that remained of the 29th Division, and maintained at all costs.
The Lamp-post and Rawlins, ordered to take charge of two "water-beetles", donned their dirty old khaki delightedly, and took over their "commands". The Lamp-post had K26, a single-screw lighter driven by one big motor. K67 belonged to Rawlins, and possessed two little motors driving twin screws. For the first day they were employed in Kephalo harbour, and had a great argument that night as to which would prove the faster. The Lamp-post bet Rawlins a dinner at the club at Malta, or at the first civilized place theAchateswent to, that his one big engine would beat the two small ones.
Next day they had the opportunity of deciding, for they were ordered to Suvla. The Lamp-post led the way through the "gate" in the submarine net, and waited outside for Rawlins to come abreast and make a fair start.
"The first one through Suvla 'gate' to win!" he shouted. "Off we go!" and they raced each other across the twelve miles of sea, the Lamp-post winning his dinner very easily.
Now, though the chief stokers—old pensioners—in these two lighters pretended to be just as excited about the race as the midshipmen themselves, actually they were much too wise to press their motors hard, knowing full well that two hours driving at top speed would probably disable them for days. However, the Lamp-post and Rawlins did not know this—they thought they were having a "ding-dong" race—so it did not matter.
They arrived there at dusk, just as the usual high-explosive shells dropped on "'A' West" beach, and some little ones fell into the harbour near theCornwallis, others near the poor old distilling ship.
Off "'A' West" pier there was now quite a comfortable little harbour, made by two steamers which had been sunk at right angles to each other, with a gap between them just sufficiently wide for two "water-beetles" to pass through side by side.
They had helped to fill these two steamers with stones and rubble at Mudros two months ago, so recognized them—theFieramoscaand thePina.
On this same day, Bubbles and the Orphan rigged themselves in khaki, joyfully packed away a few things in their battered, old tin cases, and took charge of two picket-boats—the Orphan of one belonging to theSwiftsure(this ship had no midshipmen), and Bubbles of one which had belonged to the ill-fatedMajestic. The unfortunate Hun looked very miserable as he waved "good-bye" to them. He had not regained strength after his attack of dysentery, and Dr. O'Neill would not let him take any job on shore.
"You've got your D.S.C., old Hun; so don't worry," the Orphan consoled him. "I only wish that I could get it!"
CHAPTER XXI
The Evacuation of Suvla Bay
In a little wooden hut, perched on a mound just above the landing-places at Kephalo, lived two naval Captains—the Fierce One and the Not So Fierce One.
Bubbles, the Orphan, and eight other snotties, with their picket-boats, found themselves handed over to the anything but tender mercies of the Fierce One; and the morning after Rawlins and the Lamp-post had raced their "water-beetles" (or thought they had raced them) across to Suvla, these ten gathered, expectantly, outside this wooden hut, and waited whilst the Captains finished their breakfast and smoked their pipes.
All these ten midshipmen were dressed in some sort of khaki except the twoLord Nelsons, who wore ordinary blue uniform, and grinned and nudged each other as though they shared some secret joke which they couldn't possibly divulge.
Presently the Fierce One came out, and they all stiffened to attention. He gave a preliminary roar—just to clear his throat and make way for what was coming—rapidly casting his eye over them. "Who's the senior snotty here? Why the—the—the—don't you report to me?"
The ten had never thought of that. They muttered, and looked at each other, and at last the very microscopicLord Nelson'smidshipman (known generally as the Cheese-mite) nervously reported: "All midshipmen present, sir."
"What's your name?" he growled.
"The Cheese-m—— Morrison, I mean, sir."
"Morrison be hanged! I don't care a tuppenny biscuit what you were christened. What's your boat?"
"Lord Nelson'sfirst picket-boat, sir."
"Um!Lord NelsonNo. 1. That's your name. What in the name of goodness d'you mean by it? This isn't a fancy-dress ball; what are all these individuals doing, coming along here like a lot of dysenteric soldiers?" and he shook his fist at the eight disconcerted midshipmen in khaki. "If I see 'em dressed again except in uniform, I'll—I'll—wring their necks!"
Then he went from one to the other, to learn the names of their steamboats, glaring at each, and "sizing" them up as he did so.
Bubbles becameMajestic, the OrphanSwiftsure. This having been concluded, he went through them again to make certain that he knew their boats, and from that moment never made a mistake.
"Lord NelsonNo. 1 and No. 2,Swiftsure, andMajesticfall in on the right—make a gap between you and the others. You four will work at Suvla—the other six at Anzac. You'll all get more orders presently, but remember this. Your job is to take off stragglers on Saturday and Sunday nights—those are the two nights of the evacuation. You'll have some pulling boats in tow, and you are not to leave behind a single man who gets down to the shore. Remember that. Saturday night ought not to be difficult; but on Sunday night, when the last few men rush down with the Turks after 'em, you'll have your work cut out. You'll have to 'wash out' any idea of bullets and nonsense like that, and if any one of you doesn't do his job, I'll—I'll—wring his neck! Oh!" he roared, "you'll wish you'd never met me."
A good many of the young officers had begun to wish that already.
He went on: "The boats you'll have to tow will come round in a day or two—those that aren't here now; and here's a list of things to be done, one for each of you. Away you go!"
He handed them each a paper, and stalked back to the wooden hut, but turned and growled fiercely: "Remember this: every man Jack who is on the Peninsula now is useless to England; every man who gets away is one to the good. Remember that, and do your job, or by the—the—the—I'll wring your necks! Off you go, and don't let me see any more of you in those dirty ragamuffin clothes of yours."
They made their way down to the little piers and the wrecked boats which still littered the shore.
"Youarea rotter, Cheese-mite. You might have told us. You knew it all the time," they said. "We thought we must come in khaki."
"I couldn't tell that you were coming like that, and it was a jolly sight too late for you to go back and shift," the Cheese-mite explained.
"My aunt!" the Orphan said to Bubbles as he read his paper; "wooden boards to be fitted inside the glass windows of cabins. Whatever's that for?"
"Splinters, I expect. When we're chock-full of Tommies, some will have to crowd below, and a bullet coming in and smashing the glass would fling the bits all round."
"They don't expect us to have a warm time—do they?"
"Not half!" Bubbles grinned.
[image]"SCREENED LANTERNS!"
[image]
[image]
"SCREENED LANTERNS!"
They soon stowed away their khaki and shifted into blue uniform, and for the next two days fitted out their boats with maxims, two boxes of belts, towing-spans[#] over the sterns (as on the occasion of the first landing), fitting shields round the steering-wheels of those boats which had none, making screens for hand-lanterns, testing their steam-pumps, and seeing that the thirty or forty items down on their "lists" were on board.
[#] Towing-span, a rope or wire passing all round a boat under her gunwales, with a hook secured to the bight at the stern. The painter or tow-rope of a boat to be towed is secured to this hook.
On the Thursday morning the Fierce One came out in his fussy little "Z" motor-boat, and all the ten picket-boats followed him, making a circle round him whilst he inspected them.
The maxims—he could see them; anchors—he could see them too; but when he shouted through his megaphone "Screened lanterns!" every snotty had to hold up his lantern with one hand and the canvas screen in the other. The same with the semaphore flags, boats' signal-books, axes, compass-boxes, and ammunition-boxes.
"Work your pumps!" he roared; and after a furious interval all ten picket-boats began squirting jets of water.
Then he bellowed "Megaphones!" and all held up their megaphones except the Cheese-mite.
He dashed alongsideLord NelsonNo. 1, and seized the Cheese-mite by his coat collar.
"Where's your megaphone? you—you—you——"
"Please, sir, I had it this morning; but when that destroyer went past just now the picket-boat rolled, and it went overboard."
"I'll roll you overboard," he growled, holding up the Cheese-mite as though he were a kitten. "You'll get another before night, or I'll—I'll——"
"Knives!" he shouted.
Now nearly all the snotties had taken for granted that every man aboard would have one. But only a few had them, and the Fierce One flew in a towering rage.
Eventually he took all the picket-boats outside the submarine net to make certain that those maxims would fire; and it can be easily imagined what happened when ten strange maxims were worked by ten not very experienced "hands", in ten bobbing picket-boats, under the supervision of ten much less experienced snotties.
A bullet hit the gunwale not two feet from where the Orphan stood, and goodness only knows why there were no casualties. Little, though, cared the Fierce One, so long as he made certain that every machine-gun was in working order.
That day they practised towing their pulling-boats—four to each of the Suvla boats, three to each of the Anzac ones.
A very busy day they had, for in the evening a transport came into harbour loaded with mules from Suvla, and tried the simple plan of slinging them overboard and letting them swim to the shore.
The Orphan and Bubbles were sent away in pulling-cutters to shepherd them in the right direction, and had the time of their lives chasing silly, obstinate mules who wanted to swim out to sea. Eventually they headed them off, and they made a "bee-line" for a battleship, lying with her torpedo-nets "out". It was the funniest sight in the world to see half a dozen mules with their heads looking over the edge of the torpedo-nets, "digging out for daylight", and really quite happy. After a lot of shouting and laughing they were all induced to swim shorewards, and soon scrambled on the beach, shaking themselves like big dogs, rolling in the sand, and looking for the nearest eating-place.
During these few days the ten midshipmen heard hundreds of yarns about the preparations for evacuation—how the front trenches had been mined, and many of the reserve and communicating trenches as well; that the only guns to be left behind, if all went well, were a few condemned 18-pounders and 6-inch howitzers. To deceive the Turks on the Sunday night, many rifles were being fixed up in the front trenches with tins lashed to their triggers, and, above these empty tins, others with a hole in the bottom of each. When the last of the troops left the firing-trenches, they would load the rifles, fill the top tins full of water; the water would drip slowly or fast—according to the size of the holes—into the other tins fixed to the triggers, and when these became full, off would go the rifles—at different times. The few motor-lorries and ambulances still remaining kept dashing about in full view of the Turks, to make them think that they were just as numerous as ever; and the few troops in reserve, instead of hiding behind Lala Baba or Chocolate Hill, made themselves more conspicuous in the open.
You can understand, as the week went by and that fateful Saturday approached, how tense the excitement grew, and how eagerly everyone watched the barometer and the sky for any change from the gorgeous calm days which succeeded each other. Such a spell of fine weather could not possibly last much longer, and the fate of perhaps fifty thousand men depended much upon it lasting until early Monday morning.
The Turks had not yet given any sign that they realized what had been happening or what was about to happen. They still shelled the ships, the beaches, the old empty gun positions just as they used to do, and generally at the same old times; but no one, knowing the ease with which they had previously seemed able to obtain information of our doings, thought it possible that they could actually still be in ignorance.
In the middle watch, on Friday night, a huge fire broke out at Anzac. Actually some of the most inflammatory stores prepared for burning on the Sunday night had been set alight accidentally, and made a tremendous blaze.
On board theAchatesMr. Meredith, whose watch it was, stood, with the Quartermaster, watching the glare—ten miles away across the sea—and knew that something had gone wrong.
"That will give the show away," the Quartermaster muttered sadly.
"I'm afraid it will," Mr. Meredith answered, desperately anxious.
That fire burnt all night, but in the morning the Turks never showed the least sign of activity beyond the usual normal sniping and shelling.
Saturday dawned absolutely calm—a few flaky, almost stationary clouds showed against the blue sky.
"Can it hold until Monday morning?"—that was what everyone thought and hoped and prayed.
Again the ten midshipmen "fell in" outside the little wooden hut—this time all in their proper blue uniform—and received their orders in writing, each order beginning with the well-known formula: "Being in all respects ready for sea, you will proceed forthwith..." Then followed long detailed orders for every eventuality.
Drawing two days' provisions for his own crew and the twenty-four men in his four pulling-boats occupied the rest of the Orphan's morning.
At half-past four he shoved off from theAchates—the Hun, looking wistfully after him, waved "good luck"—and he towed his four boats to the trawler told off to tow him to Suvla. Bubbles, coming along with his boats, made fast to another. Before dusk all the trawlers left Kephalo, each with its picket-boat and string of pulling-boats behind it; four headed for Suvla, and the other six towards Anzac.
The sea was calm, and the sky gave not the slightest indication of any change in the weather, so that the Orphan and his coxswain—a wiry, active petty officer named Marchant, belonging to theSwiftsure—were in the highest spirits.
"If it only keeps like this, sir!" the coxswain kept on saying.
Before it grew too dark to see properly, they both inspected all the boat's gear to make certain that nothing was out of its place. Down in the cabin the Orphan found some green leaves—cabbage leaves.
"Heave them overboard," he said. "Whatever are they doing down here?"
"I thought they were for you, sir. An old stoker brought 'em down; told me to hand 'em over to you, very carefully, and he brought this box too." He picked up a small wooden box about a foot square, with a lot of holes bored in the top and the sides; and the Orphan burst out laughing, for he knew he would find "Kaiser Bill" inside it.
"That's 'Kaiser Bill'," he said, as he raised the lid and saw the tortoise lying there. "He brings good luck. He came in our boat when the Lancashire Fusiliers landed, so I suppose old Fletcher thinks he ought to take a hand in this job as well—the funny old man!"
"He's a rum-looking beast for a mascot, isn't he!" Marchant grinned, holding up "Kaiser Bill" with his legs sprawling beneath his shell, and his head peeping slyly out as though he knew all about everything.
The Orphan put him and his box down below the water-line, where no bullets could reach him.
A nearly full moon rose and gave sufficient light to avoid any other craft on their way across, and in a little over an hour and a half they had almost reached the nets outside Suvla.
The Orphan slipped his tow-rope, and so did Bubbles, and both of them steamed round to a little pier which had been constructed on the north side of Suvla Point—a pier called Saunders Pier.
They reported themselves to the naval Pier-master; and the Orphan, leaving his two big boats—a launch and pinnace—alongside this pier, towed the other two—two cutters—along the left-flank coast, and anchored them close inshore. Their crews knew the countersign and password, and if any men hailed them properly from shore, they were ordered to pull in and take them off.
For the next three hours the Orphan was employed taking off officers and their baggage from "'A' West", going in through the gap between the sunkenFieramoscaandPina, and steaming out again, dodging empty motor-lighters being warped in through the gap, and full motor-lighters being warped out. He took them to theRedbreast, lying out near the nets, and then returned to Saunders Pier and found his two big boats loaded with rifles and baggage of all sorts.
These he towed off to two trawlers anchored close by, waited for them to be emptied, and brought them back again to Saunders Pier. After that he lay off the pier for nearly an hour, and had some food and a smoke. The men boiled some water and made cocoa over a bogey, and he had a jolly, happy, exciting time yarning with Marchant, and listening to occasional rifle-shots which came from farther away towards the left flank—Jephson's Post way. Bubbles came back from patrolling the coast, and lay alongside him. "It's all quiet there along the coast, just a rifle-shot every now and then; no one along the beach. Isn't it a perfect night?"
It was actually the most perfect night imaginable; hardly a breath of wind, hardly a ripple on the water, and the moon lighted up the cliffs and Suvla Point as distinctly as in day-time. Hardly a sound reached them, and the rocks of Suvla Point prevented them seeing anything going on inside the bay. It was all as peaceful as a picnic.
But about half-past one those two trawlers, to which the Orphan had taken his boats with the baggage, went aground; and the Orphan was sent round to "'A' West", inside the bay, to bring out the Senior Beach-master. For nearly four hours he worked, laying out anchors and taking wires across to a big tug.
Some time after six o'clock, just before the moon actually disappeared, and before the two trawlers floated off, he had to go along the coast, pick up his two cutters—they had seen or heard nothing—then pick up the big launch and pinnace, and tow them back to Kephalo. It was only when he went back to Saunders Pier for those two big boats that the Orphan heard that everything had "gone off" without a single hitch, and without the Turks having shown the least sign that their suspicions had been aroused.
Hearing this, you can imagine how joyfully he and Marchant, the coxswain, started on their twelve-mile journey back to Kephalo. Those tows of boats must be away, out of sight, before daylight; so they put their "best leg foremost", and steamed in through the harbour just after seven o'clock, finding a large captured German steamer anchored there, and simply packed with troops from Suvla.
Most of the other ten picket-boats had arrived back previously, because the night's job at Anzac had been successfully completed by half-past one in the morning, and the six boats on duty there had started back not very long afterwards.
The excitement and the enthusiasm of everyone, due to the successful accomplishment of the first night's work, kept the midshipmen awake. Most of the picket-boats gathered close together under the lee of the sunkenOruba. The crews cooked their breakfasts, ate them—jolly good rations of army bacon, any amount of bread and jam—yarned, and laughed, and smoked. They fetched "Kaiser Bill" out of his box and tempted him with a cabbage leaf, but he turned up his nose at it. Then Bubbles and the Orphan went alongside theAchatesto coal and water; rushed inboard to get a wash and a bit more breakfast, to tell everyone down in the gun-room—the Hun, the China Doll, Uncle Podger, and the Pimple—everything that had happened, and go back to their boats again.
"You didn't mind me sending you 'Kaiser Bill'?" Fletcher, waiting outside the gun-room, asked the Orphan.
"Rather not; it was jolly good of you to lend him to us. He brought us good luck the first night, at any rate."
"I'm sure he'll bring you luck to-night as well, sir."
Precious little "stand easy" did the Orphan and his crew get that day. TheSwiftsure'spicket-boat was about the best-steaming boat of the ten, and the Fierce One used her all day, going about the harbour and supervising everything that went on. He and his crew managed to get a meal in the middle of the day, and then were employed disembarking and clearing the transport of all the troops she had brought across the previous night.
At half-past four on that Sunday afternoon, the 19th December, all ten picket-boats, towed by as many trawlers, and their pulling-boats behind them, started off again for Anzac and Suvla.
The weather showed not a sign of changing, and before they reached Suvla the darkness disappeared under a moon almost more perfect than the night before. It really was more perfect, because a few thin clouds floated slowly across it; and though they hardly lessened the light it gave, they prevented shadows.
When they neared Suvla the picket-boat slipped, and did just as she had done the night before: anchored her two cutters along the cliffs beyond Suvla Point, and left the two big boats alongside Saunders Pier. The Orphan then patrolled very slowly along the coast, but everything was quiet except for a very few solitary rifle-shots; and these, he thought, were probably the rifles with the tin cans tied to their triggers going "off" when their tins filled. No stragglers showed on top of the cliffs nor down on the beach, and it was almost impossible to realize that up above him the trenches were being silently evacuated, and that the soldiers had already commenced, sections at a time, to file down that sandy, steep path which he and the Lamp-post had followed, on their way back from the Naval Observation Post, that ripping afternoon in September.
At about ten o'clock Bubbles, almost incoherent with excitement, came along in the oldMajestic'spicket-boat and relieved him.
"You have to go back to Saunders Pier," he stuttered and burbled, "and take back your cutters. I've to do a bit of patrolling."
The Orphan, picking up his anchored cutters and their crews, towed them to this pier, found his two big boats already crowded with troops, and took them off to two trawlers lying outside (those two which had run aground the previous night had been refloated shortly after daylight). For the next three hours he went backwards and forwards between trawlers and pier, and then, leaving his boats for Bubbles to carry on the good work, was ordered round to "'A' West", inside the Bay. On the way, he and the coxswain and the crew had some food—bread and meat sandwiches, water to wash them down. No food could be cooked and no cocoa made this night, because strict orders had been given that not a light had to be shown—not even the cooking bogey could be lighted.
Here, at "'A' West", he was in the thick of everything, jostling and nosing his way in and out among the picket-boats and motor-lighters struggling to get in or out by that gap between theFieramoscaand thePina.
On the pier they told him that everything was "going all right", and that the Turks showed no signs of leaving their trenches. The excitement as boatloads of men, horses, and stores went off to the ships, and as he helped with officers and their baggage, kept him oblivious of time or fatigue.
By four o'clock that morning the evacuation had been successfully accomplished. He happened to have gone to the Beach-master's office at about that time with a message. As he entered, the Beach-master put down his telephone and smiled grimly to a military officer there. "They've just telephoned from 'C' beach to say they are finished, and the naval beach-party is now embarking. Not a soldier left behind."
"I expected to be on my way to Constantinople by this time—a prisoner," the weary officer replied.
"It's about time we packed up too. There's only a little more big baggage, and perhaps a hundred and fifty men of the beach parties, military landing-officers, and your people to go off from here, and that finishes the bag of tricks. Haven't we pulled their legs? Listen! they're sniping just as usual, up there. I'm just going round to get those stores properly started burning, and then pack up. I'm really sorry to leave, for some reasons," he said, glancing round his tiny little office "dug-out", with the bare rock on one side and the sand-bag walls.
He sent the Orphan, with one of the Pier-masters, to make a last search of the left flank. Off they went, rounded Suvla Point, and worked slowly along under the foot of the cliffs again, the Pier-master hailing the shore occasionally through a megaphone. Not a sound came back, except the echo from the face of the cliffs. They went some two miles along the coast, turned, and steamed back quickly, because they saw the glare of the burning fires, and thought that now, at any rate, the Turks would realize what had happened, and would come tearing down. Suvla Point and Saunders Pier were lighted up by the crackling, leaping flames, and in his four boats, still lying alongside the pier, the last of the people to leave Suvla had crowded. Four or five army officers came across to the less crowded picket-boat, and then, with an extraordinary feeling of exhilaration, he towed them off to the waiting trawlers, and stood off whilst those last people crowded into them.
This accomplished, he received orders to anchor his boats, and, with that same Pier-master, to make another last search along the cliffs on the left flank.
Away he went, and perhaps not more than half a mile—certainly not a mile—from the end of Suvla Point they saw a small group of dark figures on top of the cliffs. The Pier-master, a lusty naval lieutenant, hailed them through his megaphone; and a voice shouted back: "We're English! We're English!"
"That's funny," said the Pier-master. "Edge in a little closer; get your maxim ready."
The coxswain steered in towards the shore, and again the Pier-master hailed, and again a single voice called back: "We're English! We're English!"
"Well, if theywereEnglish, they wouldallshout," he said. "Keep her out! They are Turks, those chaps; probably a patrol which has pushed along the edge of the cliffs and does not know what to make of things. They would make a 'hullabaloo', right enough, if they were our chaps left behind."
The picket-boat steamed along under the cliffs, hailing every now and then, until they had passed the place where the left-flank trenches, coming down from Jephson's Post, touched the shore. Not a man could be seen, nor did any answer come back in response to the hails through the megaphone.
"That's finish!" the Pier-master told the Orphan. "Turn her round." Over went the wheel, round twisted the picket-boat, back she steamed to where the four boats lay, out beyond Suvla Point; and although the moon had disappeared by this time, there was not the slightest difficulty in finding them, for the whole water reflected the flames of the burning stores, and the boats and the men's faces showed up plainly.
The picket-boat took them in tow, and commenced to steam across to Kephalo. Behind her the flames leapt fiercely along the sweep of the bay, and every now and again explosions took place, hurling masses of flame and sparks high in the air. Silhouetted black against these fires was theCornwallisbattleship, left behind to keep the fires burning with her shells—if necessary—and to destroy in the morning the few wooden lighters which had been left behind.
Down along the coast at Anzac the sea was ruddy with the huge fires burning there.
"Well, if they've only been as successful down there, it's been a mighty good show," the Pier-master said as they watched them. "We've only left four condemned guns—blown them up, too—and not a single man, horse, or mule; and we've even taken off the goats belonging to the Indian Transport Column. My hat! it's simply wonderful; I'm going to coil up and do a little 'shut eye' down in the cabin. I have not slept for nearly four days."
"'Kaiser Bill' is down there. I do believe he has brought luck," the Orphan burst out; and then had to explain who "Kaiser Bill" was.
The coxswain, sweeping his hand astern towards Anafarta, called down: "Look, sir, there comes the dawn. We wondered if the weather would hold till Monday, and, thank God! it has."
The Orphan looked, and, hardly noticeable behind the bright glare of the fires, saw the pale light of dawn behind the Anafarta hills.
There was no longer any need for precautions. The "bogey" on the engine-room casings soon burnt brightly, and soon he and Marchant were sharing a big bowl of cocoa, and ravenously eating some more clumsy sandwiches which the men cut for them. Neither of them as yet felt sleepy, because the excitement of success kept them wide awake, though neither had slept for two whole days and nights.
By seven-thirty it became light enough for them to see, ahead of them, on their way from Suvla or Anzac, ten or twelve "water-beetles", a dozen or more trawlers, with long strings of transports' boats, pontoons, and lighters towing behind them; some twenty steamboats, also with their "tows", and several small tugs. The Suvla distilling steamer—theBacchus—which for four months had been constantly shelled, was steaming on her way to Mudros; and patrolling destroyers, trawlers, and drifters swept the sea just as they always had done, and just as though nothing had happened.
Boom! Boom! came the rumble and thud of the firing of two big guns.
"TheCornwallis, sir, at Suvla," the coxswain said, turning to look, and making the Orphan turn to watch Turkish shells bursting down by the water's edge—just as usual. They had commenced their early morning "hate"—on empty beaches.
"By all that is wonderful, sir!" said the coxswain.
At half-past eight the picket-boat entered Kephalo harbour; and the Orphan knew, by the cheering which greeted him from the troops packed together aboard two large transports anchored inside, that the evacuation of Anzac had been completed as successfully as that at Suvla.
He turned over his four boats to a battleship, and threaded his way through the throng of steamboats, trawlers, and motor-lighters which jostled each other in the harbour, eventually reached the shore, and landed to report himself.
He found the Fierce One, who had only just returned from Suvla, and the Not So Fierce One at breakfast in their little wooden hut.
"Hum! You've come back, have you?" growled the Fierce One. "A very good two nights' work; very good, indeed!"
The Not So Fierce One, looking at the Orphan, said: "You look pretty well fagged out; have a cup of tea, or something."