By now they had made themselves quite cosy in their corner of the dormitory; a sand-bag was placed over the shell hole in the roof; their beds were raised from the ground on some planks; they looted a washstand and a looking-glass from one of the hulks, and had much fun digging "cupboards" for themselves in the clay walls."Kaiser Bill", too, seemed quite at home, and enjoyed his occasional exercises on the slope below the Mess, waking up, sprinting gaily for three or four yards, and then sulking because nothing green grew there. However, they managed to get him green stuff occasionally, and in the evenings, whenever they were off duty, they took him into the Mess after dinner, and he became quite frisky in the warmth of the fire. Those evenings were very jolly after a hard day's work and a good dinner, sitting in "deck" chairs in front of the cheerful fire, yarning, and not worrying much about the shells which, every now and then, burst along the ridge and made the dry "clayey" walls shake bits down on the wooden floor—not worrying about them, in spite of the fact that if one fell on top of the Mess the Sub's tarpaulin and the timber roof would not keep it out, nor would the long skylight hatchway, taken bodily out of one of the hulks and now fitted into the roof of the Mess.It was one of their amusements to see "Kaiser Bill" "duck" when he heard a shell burst. He might be scampering over the floor—or the table—at the rate of two feet a minute, with his head and neck stretched out, or be nibbling enthusiastically at a piece of fresh cabbage leaf or onion stalk; but directly he heard the thud and roar of a shell bursting, however far away, in would go his head and legs, and nothing would entice him to put them out again for at least half an hour.Bubbles and the Orphan always placed him down between their bunks when they turned in—for luck.Food was good and plentiful—the army cheese simply grand; water was fairly plentiful from wells and springs; as for the Ordnance stores, they could supply everything from an electric torch to a stove, from a wheelbarrow to a motor bicycle, from a pair of trench gloves to a pair of india-rubber trench boots coming half-way up your thigh.In fact, everything went on comfortably, and a week after the two midshipmen had landed they had entirely forgotten about "evacuation", and only thought it a joke when a Turkish aeroplane dropped the message: "Good-bye, British soldiers; we know you are going, and are sorry to lose you".Flies had of course disappeared with the cold weather—disappeared long ago, and the only bothering live things were rats—great, fat, sleek fellows, who ran hurdle races round the dormitory at night to keep themselves in good condition, jumping over the sleeping midshipmen and the other officers there.One night the Orphan met Bubbles, and saw by his face that something unusual had occurred."What is it? Any news?""They're sending every one of those Greek labourers[#] away to-night. They've given them two hours to pack up, and you and I have to embark them. What does that mean, I wonder?"[#] Some two hundred Greek labourers had been employed ever since the landing, and had, for the most part, worked well; constantly under fire."Perhaps they've caught them spying; making signals or getting information across to the Turks,' the Orphan suggested."I don't know; it's jolly rummy.""There's a lot of ammunition to be landed to-night, some time after ten o'clock," the Sub said, joining them. "You'll have to go out in the lighter, Orphan, so you'll have a busy time."Well, just before ten o'clock, when the Orphan had started to warp the empty lighter away from No. 4 Pier, a messenger came down from the N.T.O. to tell him that this ammunition was not to be landed, and he heard afterwards that it went back to Mudros immediately.This roused their curiosity; and when, next night, three lieutenants and many more bluejackets arrived, and half a dozen of those motor-lighters (the "water-beetles") and many more picket-boats came across from Kephalo, everyone guessed that the final evacuation had been determined upon.And, on the last day of the year, Captain Macfarlane came to take charge of the elaborate organization required to embark all the troops, guns, horses, and stores without the knowledge of the Turks. He became Senior Naval Transport Officer, and lived in his big "dug-out" along a path cut in the cliff beyond the Naval Mess, and known as "Park Lane" because all the senior officers had their "dug-outs" there.The Sub, Bubbles, and the Orphan were immensely pleased that he had come—he had such a kind, good-humoured way of giving orders, and nothing ever flustered him.From now onward, there were no more troops or stores to disembark; but the work of sending away the enormous accumulation of stores, and of gradually withdrawing troops, guns, horses, and mules, went on at high pressure. This took place at night. After dark, transports and store ships would come across from Kephalo or Mudros, anchor off "W" beach or "V" beach (which now had been handed over by the French to the British), and all through the dark hours large "soldier" working parties and the Naval beach parties would toil, carrying down the most valuable of the Ordnance and Sappers' and Commissariat stores, and loading them in lighters (wooden lighters, which had to be towed, or motor-lighters). When full, these would be sent off to the store ships, unloaded, and sent back again. Every night a troop-carrier would come slowly alongside the "Outer Hulk", make fast, and battalions of infantry, with their baggage and their maxims, would be taken across to her in motor-lighters from No. 3 Pier. Every night, too, many horses and many mules went off to the big transports anchored farther out, and were hoisted on board.An hour and a half before dawn, every steamship, transport, and troop-carrier had to be away and out of sight; and if, as the time for departure arrived, any still had half-emptied lighters alongside, tugs would dash out and bring them back. Nothing whatever was allowed to delay these big ships, because upon their arrival and departure being absolutely hidden from the Turks the whole success of the operation depended.At one time, before the first of those south-west gales had broken a gap in No. 1 Pier, it had been possible to walk along it, then up a gangway on board the "Inner Hulk", and from her to the "Outer Hulk", and so on board anything lying alongside her. This had made the embarking and disembarking of troops a very simple and rapid process; and as simplicity and rapidity would be so necessary on the last night of the evacuation, attempts were made to bridge the gap. The Orphan took part in this, working in the day-time under the orders of the Pier-master, a Naval lieutenant named Armstrong, a great solid man who always spoke extremely deliberately, weighing every syllable, and never appearing to get even mildly excited.First of all a big pontoon was wedged in the gap, but did not quite fill it; the vacant intervals were then closed by means of barrels lashed stoutly together and held in place by wires and hawsers. If anything did go wrong, Mr. Armstrong would fill his pipe and say: "I say—my—blooming—oath—you—blokes— will—have—to—reeve—another—pretty—big—wire—there"; or, "I—say—Orpen—we—shall—have—to— lay—out—another—anchor—go—round—and—find— a—thundering—big—chap".When at last these were all fixed to his liking, a broad wooden gangway platform was laid over all, between the broken-away ends of the gap.This business occupied two whole days, during which time the Orphan had generally more wet clothes than dry. "If—you—don't—take—care—you'll—get —your—feet—wet," Mr. Armstrong told him one day, after he had been wading up to his waist in the shallow water, on and off for an hour.Troops now could march straight on board the "Inner Hulk", then across to the "Outer Hulk", and so to whatever troop-carrier happened to be alongside her. This naturally relieved the congestion at No. 2 and No. 3 Piers, from which horses and stores were embarked.But the job which the Orphan liked best was down at No. 4 Pier, working with the Sub and a very energetic warrant officer, getting off guns, motor-lorries, motor field-workshops, "caterpillar" traction engines, and motor ambulances.Before dark they would get a couple of lighters alongside this pier, make them fast to the wall, then dash up to the Mess for a rapid dinner, and down again about an hour after dark, when the guns would commence to come rumbling down the ridge to the beach—field-guns, stumpy howitzers, and long 60-pounders.Horse teams or "caterpillar" tractors dragged them through the sand to just above No. 4 Pier, unhitched, and left them there with their "crews". Then the beach party on the pier would make "fast" hook-ropes, and hauling on them, whilst the artillerymen man-handled the spokes of gun and limber wheels, along would come the gun and its limber, jolting aboard the lighter.One after the other the guns would be coaxed aboard until the lighter could hold no more. Then the artillerymen, picking up their rifles and kits, would scramble on board, squat down between the gun wheels, cling on to the spokes, stow themselves away anywhere so long as they did not get in the way of the lighter's crew, who now hauled on a warp-rope, made "fast" to the end of No. 3 Pier, and warped the heavily laden lighter away from the wall of No. 4 Pier.A picket-boat, waiting there, would get hold of her, and tow her out to the plucky and beautifully handled little tug T1. Then away she would be towed by that tug to search for the transport which had anchored off Cape Helles after dark. Presently the big ship would loom up, the lighter would be towed alongside, made "fast" under a derrick, and left there to unload. If any very heavy guns, or heavy, cumbrous things such as motor-lorries or "caterpillar" tractors, went off, the Sub or the Gunner always took charge of the lighter; but if the load consisted of field-guns, or such things as "general service" wagons, he sent the Orphan.This was just the job the Orphan enjoyed—the taking charge of the soldier officers and their artillerymen, the warping off from No. 4 Pier, the tow-out in the darkness of those very dark nights, the job of getting his lighter safely secured to the big ship, and the delicate business of safely slinging each gun and limber or wagon to the ship's derrick "purchase". The purchase would be lowered with its great hook, the slings of one gun slipped over it, the Orphan would shout "Hoist away!" and whilst that gun dangled overhead in the dark, would busily secure the slings to the next, so that time should not be wasted when the purchase-hook came down again. It sometimes took a couple of hours to unload a lighter, but this depended entirely upon the officers and crew of the transport ship. One ship—theQueen Louise—would do the work in half the time which some others occupied.The Orphan always felt so happy when the last wagon or the last gun of any particular load had been hoisted out of the lighter. It was so grand to know that "that little lot" would not fall into the hands of the Turks. Best of all, it was such fun to be hoodwinking "the old Turk" all this while.Generally, from the time a loaded lighter shoved off from No. 4 Pier until she returned alongside, empty, at least two hours had elapsed, and as it often took an hour—sometimes a good deal more—to load up again, each lighter seldom made more than two trips a night.Practically all this work went on in complete darkness. There was no moonlight, and the only lights allowed to be shown were small oil-lamps, one on each pier, and one on the far end of the "Outer Hulk". Fortunately, what breeze blew during the first nine nights came from the north-east, and did not interfere with the work; on most of these nights the air was absolutely still and the sea absolutely calm.Before leaving off work in the morning, they would see that any guns remaining on the beach or in the lighters were carefully covered up with tarpaulins, so that the Turks could not see them from their inquisitive aeroplanes, which constantly came circling over, trying to find out what the British really intended to do.Then, perhaps at half-past seven in the morning, thoroughly worn out, probably nearly wet through, back they would drag themselves up to the Mess, find Richards always ready for them with cocoa or coffee, bacon, sometimes eggs, and have their breakfast. Afterwards they would "turn in"."My perishing Orphan!" the Sub would say, as he threw himself on his bed. "That's not a bad night's work—twelve guns, and any number of wagons and things. But I'm pretty well fagged out, and you look 'done to a turn'."They would sleep till the middle of the day, get up, wash, have lunch, and probably go to sleep again till four or half-past. Then a good "high tea" Richards would provide for them; and, after that, all those who were on night duty—nearly all in fact—gathered in the Mess, smoked and yarned, and told how things were "going"—how many troops, how many guns, how many horses and mules, and how much stores had been safely sent away the night before.Everyone knew and felt that every man, every gun, horse or mule, every motor-lorry, every ton of stores and ammunition sent off was so much to the good; and everyone—especially as the day for the final evacuation drew nearer—grew anxious lest the Turks should find out what was happening, and lest the gentle north-east breeze should give place to a south-westerly wind, which would drive seas against the different beaches, and delay—perhaps fatally delay—the final embarkation.There was always the chance of this, and of the two or three thousand last troops to come marching back from the empty trenches being hotly pressed by the Turks, and of them and the whole of the beach parties finding it impossible to get off. To the Orphan, and to many more; it also seemed so absolutely unbelievable that the Turks could be deceived again; and they thought that they must really know about what was going on, and were only waiting until the trenches were so weakly held that they could make a successful assault, drive all that remained down to the sea, and capture them.CHAPTER XXIVThe Evacuation of Cape HellesFriday morning, the 7th January, came, and the Turks had given no sign whatever that they guessed what was going on. Shells burst as usual, and "Cuthbert", the aeroplane, circled overhead, saw what he could, dropped a few bombs on the ridge above "W" beach and near the oldRiver Clyde, and went home again before our own pursuing aeroplanes could catch him.At two o'clock that afternoon the Turks commenced a fierce bombardment of the whole front-line trenches. The Asiatic guns tried to enfilade them, too, and for nearly three hours every gun they possessed blazed away for all it was worth.The few guns we had remaining did their utmost to conceal the smallness of their numbers by the rapidity of their fire, though, naturally, everyone imagined that the Turks must realize how few they were.At five o'clock the Turks evidently intended to storm the front which they had battered so severely, but, except on our extreme left, their men could not be induced to leave their trenches.But here some five or six hundred did advance, and, unfortunately for them, came in full view of a battleship which had but lately come out from England, fearfully keen to fire her guns, and now happened to be zigzagging along the coast, attracted by the continual roar of the Turkish artillery. Eagerly looking for something to fire at, she saw, all at once, these poor devils of Turks streaming out of their trenches across open ground, and let go salvo after salvo into the middle of them. Not two hundred came anywhere near our thinly held trenches; some twenty reached them, and were promptly bayoneted; perhaps a dozen got back to their own. After this no further attack was made, and all firing died down at dusk.The "last night but one" commenced.All night long the work went on; more troops (after their nerve-shaking experience of that afternoon's three hours' bombardment) marched down with their baggage and their maxims, filed along No. 1 Pier across the "hulks" into theErmineand other troop-carriers, and were taken away. Many of the still remaining guns came back and were sent off from No. 4 Pier; very many horses were embarked from No. 3 Pier; and soldiers, like ants, streamed backwards and forwards between the beach and those store depots, bringing down stores and hurrying back for more.All night long the Orphan listened with tingling ears for the sound of anything more than the customary sniping and passing bursts of nervous rifle-firing. But the Turks had had a sufficiently severe handling in the afternoon; they made no attempt to attack, and the night passed absolutely quietly, daylight on Saturday morning coming with everything going on just as usual. The troop-carriers, horse-transports, and store ships were long since hidden in Kephalo, or below the horizon on their way to Mudros; and though the aeroplane came over to reconnoitre and be driven home again, there was nothing unusual for it to report.Exactly how many troops remained or how many guns, neither Bubbles nor the Orphan knew; but they did know that the very scantiest number of troops held the first-line trenches, and that the guns could almost be counted on fingers and toes. All these troops had to be got off that night, and almost all the guns."Would the weather hold for the last night?" That was what everyone asked himself. The sun rose behind Achi Baba not quite so clearly as it had done throughout the past week, but the breeze still blew gently from the north-east, and hardly a cloud flecked the blue sky.Captain Macfarlane, tugging at his pointed beard, looked satisfied, and went up to his "dug-out" for breakfast and to turn in, after his all-night's work, and sleep for a few hours.Bubbles, who had spent the night at "V" beach in his picket-boat, pulled the sleepy Orphan along the path to the Mess. "What d'you think I had last night? A bath—a hot bath—aboard theRiver Clyde! It was the last drop of hot water she had aboard her, for a shell came in half an hour before and cut a steam-pipe or something. Wasn't I lucky?"They had this their last breakfast in Gallipoli, and then lay down on their beds and slept.At midday they were called, turned out—horribly sleepy—and began to roll up their bedding and pack up the rest of their "gear", ready to be taken down to the beach. Most of the officers spent the morning doing the same.The barometer had now begun to fall—ever so slightly—-and some clouds to gather in the west, low down in the horizon, behind the island of Tenedos.Everyone felt a little anxious.At three o'clock in the afternoon the breeze definitely shifted round to the south-west—the dangerous quarter—and all knew that if it increased much it would drive seas right on to the beaches, and add tremendously to the difficulties of this last night's work.At five o'clock that afternoon many of the officers gathered in the Mess, which they were leaving for ever, and drank to the success of the evacuation. "Kaiser Bill" was taken out of his box, placed on the table, and drank a little milk out of a saucer for "good luck"; then Bubbles took him away to his picket-boat to make certain that he would not be left behind,whatever happened; and everybody went down to the beach and their different jobs, looking doubtfully and anxiously at the sun setting behind a gloomy bank of clouds, and the little "white horses" which already ruffled the surface of the sea."It will be all right," the Orphan told the Sub confidently as they walked down to No. 4 Pier. "If "Kaiser Bill" hadn't drunk his milk we might have been rather miserable.""Youarea silly ass," the Sub laughed.Night fell. The breeze freshened steadily, and the two lighters alongside No. 4 Pier already banged up against the stone wall in a very uncomfortable manner.Presently some of those remaining guns began rumbling over the ridge to the beach, and their teams went round to No. 3 Pier, or cantered back over the ridge, with a jangle of harness and thudding of hoofs, to fetch more.When the first lighter had been loaded—with field-guns mostly—her crew hauled her off by the warps, the south-west breeze blowing freshly in their faces, and the little waves already splashing against her bows. A picket-boat took hold of her and handed her over to tug T1, which towed her away to sea.The Orphan went with this first load, and found it a very different matter to-night. Though the breeze had not yet attained any great strength, a slight, lumpy sea and swell ran, outside, and when he at last reached the transport's huge side he had much difficulty in bringing the clumsy, heavily loaded lighter alongside and making her "fast". As it was, she bumped and rose and fell so much that it took nearly two hours to hoist out all those guns, and their "crews", laden with their heavy kits, and most of them sea-sick, could hardly climb the awkward Jacob's ladders dangling down the ship's dark side.At last the lighter was cleared, and the tug, lurching out of the darkness, brought off the Gunner with another heavily laden lighter, left him alongside, and towed the Orphan back.It was now nearly eleven o'clock; the breeze had become a strong wind, and meeting the current flowing out of the Dardanelles, raised an angry, steep sea. This immensely increased the difficulties of handling the motor-lighters, steamboats, and small tugs which simply swarmed off "W" beach and its piers. The clumsy motor-lighters were a danger to themselves and a terror to others, for they often refused to answer their helms when they left the lee of the sunken hulks and their bows first met the seas. It required much skilful seamanship for the steamboats to get hold of them in the pitchy darkness and turn them in the right way.The Orphan found more guns waiting to be taken off, and he was about to commence to haul them on board his lighter when an order came that they were to be destroyed where they stood. Some Sappers arrived, and began fixing gun-cotton charges in them."They are the last of the guns to be sent off," said the officer in charge of them. "It does seem rough luck, doesn't it?""What was it like when you left?" asked the Orphan."Perfectly quiet; that was an hour ago," he told him.The Orphan had nothing to do now but wait for further orders.There was so much wind blowing inshore, towards the trenches, that though he strained his ears he could not hear the sound of the usual sniping, rifle-firing—in fact he could hear nothing from the direction of the trenches. Every now and then a momentary flash showed out behind the ridge on the Asiatic shore, and one of "Asiatic Annie's" shells came along; to-night they nearly all burst on the ridge close to Cape Helles lighthouse, and absolutely harmlessly. Occasionally a big monitor, half-way across the Straits, fired a 12-inch gun, and then everything round "W" beach, and the white tents above it, were lighted up momentarily—like the click of a camera shutter—and the Orphan would catch a sudden glimpse of motor-lighters and picket-boats, horses and men, on No. 3 Pier, perhaps long lines of troops coming down the road from the ridge, or a motor-lorry or motor-ambulance coming down to the beach. Then the blackness shut down again, except for the tiny flicker of the oil-lamp tied to a post at one corner of the pier.The Orphan passed this time of waiting talking to the disappointed Gunner officer, who told him yarns of yesterday's fierce bombardment, and said how annoyed they had been when that battleship had wiped out their beautiful "target" of advancing Turks. "You'll hear, all right, if the Turks do get into our trenches to-night, after our chaps have left them," he said. "They are all mined, and most of the communication trenches too. There will be the most infernal noise."Then out of the darkness came Captain Macfarlane and the Sub. The Orphan heard the Captain say: "All right, you can try and take those guns off. If you can't manage it, blow them up in the lighter."Then he was sent round to No. 1 Pier to find out why two motor-lighters could not get off. He scrambled along the beach, past the end of No. 3 Pier, where a large number of gun- and limber-teams were waiting to embark in lighters—the horses waiting much more patiently and quietly than "humans" would have done—and then past a regiment which had just marched in from the trenches, most of the men lying down to relieve the weight of their heavy packs. The Orphan guessed correctly that most of these packs had a Turkish shell—or two—in them as "curios".By the time he reached No. 1 Pier and found Mr. Armstrong, things were in a bad way. Two crowded motor-lighters lay there, lashed side by side, bumping uneasily, and the new platform over the pontoon and those barrels which filled the gap in it was swaying and creaking in a most unpleasant manner, waves thudding against it every moment."Curse—the—lighters—curse—everything!" swore the Lieutenant, pronouncing each syllable very deliberately, and without the faintest trace of excitement. "The—whole—show—will—go—in—a—minute— barrels—pontoon—and—lighters—as—well. One— of—the—con-founded—lighters—can't—start—her— engines—and—the—other—one—has—smashed—hers.""The Captain is sending a tug in to help," the Orphan shouted loudly—one had to shout because of the creaking and grinding of the pontoon and barrels, the noise of the wind and waves, and the bumping of the motor-lighters.Then a tug did back gingerly in, passed a tow-rope aboard the lighters, and started to tow them out; but the rope "parted" as it took the strain, and the two crowded motor-lighters, catching an eddy of the strong wind and current, began drifting helplessly back again on to the damaged pier. In another half-minute they would have been hopelessly crushed against it; but, in the nick of time, the engine of one of them took it into its head to start, and just managed to move the two of them sufficiently to give the tug a chance of getting hold of them and towing them out to sea and safety."My—blooming—oath!" said Mr. Armstrong; "that—was—a—near—thing," and he sucked hard at his pipe.A man, coming from the "Inner Hulk" over the straining pontoon, shouted to him: "A destroyer has just made 'fast' inside the 'Outer Hulk', sir.""All—right; I'll—send—the—troops—along. Go—along—and—fetch—'em," he told the Orphan; "those—blokes—sitting—along—the—thundering—beach. Tell—'em—to—thundering—well—get—a —move—on—if—they—don't—want—to—be—left—behind. Con-found—this—pipe!" As the Orphan darted away he heard the rending sound of timber cracking and ropes "parting". He found some officers; they passed the "word" along; gave orders, and No. 1 Company of that battalion rose to their feet, picked up their rifles, and commenced to straggle down to the pier. As the Orphan and the first of them reached it, there came a loud crashing of smashing woodwork, loud shouts of "She's carried away, sir!" people came running back from where the pontoon had been; and Mr. Armstrong, walking slowly up to him, said: "The—thundering—thing's—carried —away—al-to-gether. It's—the—very—devil. Go—and—tell—the—N.-T.-O. See—if—you—can—find— me—a—bit—of—wire—my—pipe's—choked."Back went the Orphan to No. 4 Pier, but Captain Macfarlane was not there, nor at No. 3 Pier. Someone took him to the new office "dug-out" at the top of the beach; and there he found him, sitting at a table with an oil-lamp hanging above it, smoking a cigarette, tugging at his beard, and looking quaintly amused at a number of officers who were all asking him questions at the same time.The Orphan wriggled his way through them, and burst out with: "The 'barrel pier' has gone, sir—washed away!""How very annoying, Mr. Orpen; very annoying indeed!" he said, smiling grimly. "We shall have to send the soldiers off from No. 3 Pier. Go down and tell the pier-master to embark them on the two 'stand-by' motor-lighters, and tell Mr. Armstrong to go down and help him."The Orphan, noticing that the lamp was hanging by a piece of wire, thought that there might be some more somewhere about, looked round, and saw a piece lying under the table—just what Mr. Armstrong would like. He picked it up, and was just wriggling his way out again when the Captain wanted to know what he was doing."Mr. Armstrong's pipe is choked, sir, and I saw this bit of wire.""Dear me! dear me!" smiled the Captain. "Misfortunes never come singly; do they, Mr. Open?""No, sir," said the Orphan, not knowing what else to say, and dashed off; found the Pier-master—another Naval Lieutenant—and gave his message. Then he went off with his piece of wire to clear Mr. Armstrong's pipe, and tell him to go down to No. 3 Pier."All—right—hold—this—thundering—megaphone— whilst—I—clean—my—pipe."At No. 3 Pier these latest arrived troops were already marching down into the "stand-by" motor-lighters, with a scuffling of tired feet, a clatter of rifle-butts, and the continual, monotonous, weary sound of "Form two deep! Form two deep!" as more infantry neared the shore end of the pier.They were tired and dirty and trench-stained, and they cursed as they stumbled against each other in the dark, but they were very cheerful. As soon as one lighter had taken as many as she could hold, she shoved off, and grunted and snorted across to the "Outer Hulk"."Nip over there; jump into that steamboat," the Pier-master called out. "Find out how many more men that destroyer can take."The Orphan jumped down into a picket-boat lying alongside, and found Bubbles there.As he took him across to the destroyer, the Orphan asked him what he had been doing all night."Generals, and their Staffs," Bubbles shouted happily. "You've no idea what a lot of trouble I've had with them. Some of them have actually started giving me orders. I've 'told 'em off' properly. They get quite tame then. I've taken some off from 'V' beach as well; everything's going on well down there. This sea running in is pretty beastly, isn't it?"The Orphan climbed up the destroyer's side, and found her deck crammed with soldiers. He pushed his way up to the fore bridge, and heard her Captain yelling down to the men on the "Outer Hulk": "Get some more fenders along. Slack off that hawser." He was told that "If you don't 'get out of it' in a 'brace of shakes' you'll get a sea-passage, for nothing. I'm just going to shove off out of it. I can't take another soldier, and I'll stove my side in if I stay here much longer."The Orphan went back to the steamboat, across to the pier, and reported that the destroyer was just shoving off."I can see that for myself," grumbled the Pier-master, as a flash from the monitor's gun suddenly showed the destroyer backing out.This same flash also showed a heavily-laden lighter being warped off from No. 4 Pier, so the Orphan knew that the Sub had managed to start his journey with those last guns.Then two teams of horses came jangling down to the pier unexpectedly, and the irritated Pier-master sent Bubbles to try and find a horse-boat or lighter alongside the "Inner Hulk". He came back with one; was nearly run down by another destroyer; got it alongside. Those twelve horses walked down into it as if they knew all about the business, and the very last horse to be taken off from "W" beach was towed away into the darkness.Captain Macfarlane came down and told them that he had received a telephone message from Headquarters Office that the trenches had been finally evacuated, and the covering brigades withdrawn. "Everything IS absolutely quiet up there," he said.The Orphan and Bubbles were greatly excited at that news. They tried to picture these last troops stealthily creeping out of their long line of trenches—extending from Ghurka Bluff and the Nullah, across the plain in front of Krithia, along the lower slopes of Achi Baba, and across and along the ravines past Sedd-el-Bahr—coming down the communication trenches, treading softly, and not making a sound, expecting all the time that Turkish patrols would give the alarm, and that the Turks would only be waiting for that moment to light the plain with star shells and rush down on them."We should hear the mines blow up, anyway," the Orphan said, as both snotties stood and listened, hearing nothing but the howling of the wind and the lapping of the waves, and the bumping of the picket-boat against the pier."It must be exciting for them," Bubbles said, bubbling with excitement.After having secured several empty motor-lighters alongside, in readiness to embark the last troops, there was nothing to do."Have—a—sand-wich?" said Mr. Armstrong, producing a bulky package which Richards had prepared for him. They ate them sitting on the top of the picket-boat's cabin, as she bobbed and bumped against the side of the pier. Mr. Armstrong told them that one of the Generals coming down was a cousin of his named Bailey, and that if he did come down to this pier he wasn't to go off without seeing him. General Bailey had a brother who had been a Sub in charge of a gun-room when Mr. Armstrong was a midshipman in it. "A—thundering—good—chap," Mr. Armstrong said. "He—used—to—beat—me— thundering—hard—have—an-other—sandwich."Before the sandwiches were finished, the Orphan had to go up to the Captain's beach office. The Senior Military Landing Officer, rather upset about something, was talking nervously."Oh, Mr. Orpen, there are some men who can't be taken off from Gully Beach, round by the left flank, on account of the heavy sea," the Captain said calmly. "They are starting to march this way. Go down and tell the Pier-master and Mr. Armstrong to collect as many empty motor-lighters as possible. Come back here when you have given this message."When he returned, the Captain gave him a signal to take up to the temporary "wireless" station, a little way along the top of the cliff."You had better hurry," he said, good-humouredly, looking at his watch, "if you really don't mind, or they'll be packed up before you get there."The Orphan dashed off up the main road, and then along the branch path to where he knew the "wireless" station had been "put up"."You're just in time," the Naval Lieutenant in charge of it said; "I was just going to give the order to 'pack up'.""Here!" he shouted to the operator. "Call up those two destroyers; they'll be wanted to come alongside the 'Outer Hulk'.""The N.T.O. says you can pack up when you get those signals through, sir," the Orphan said."All right; those destroyers will have the deuce of a time getting alongside if the wind goes on increasing as it's been doing for the last half-hour," the Lieu-tenant said. "What d'they want 'em for? anything gone wrong?"The Orphan told him, and as he turned back he ran into some soldiers carrying heavy square tins."What are you doing?" he asked one of them."Going off to soak the stores with petrol," he said, and hurried on up to the Ordnance Depot.Down the main road were now coming the first of the "covering parties"—some of the men who had actually stayed in the trenches till the last moment, many of them limping heavily, most of them talking cheerily. Some had maxim guns on their shoulders, others carried the tripod-stands, others maxim belt-boxes."Which way for the Margate steamer?" a Cockney voice called out."Turn to your right when you get on the beach," the Orphan shouted as he passed them; and the same voice called back: "Hi, Guv'nor! I've lost me return ticket. I ain't got no money, and I don't want to be left behind—I ain't 'ankering after a trip to Constantinople."The tired men began to laugh.The midshipman found Captain Macfarlane in his office, and told him that these men were coming down. He went out and stood at the top of the beach as they went past, their feet scrunching on the stones and shuffling through the sand as they marched down to No. 3 Pier, straight aboard the motor-lighters waiting for them.A little officer came past, walking with a very tall one."Is that General Bailey?" called Captain Macfarlane."Hullo, Macfarlane! I knew your voice," he replied, stopping."Everything all right?" asked the Captain; and the Orphan remembered that this was Mr. Armstrong's cousin, and listened eagerly for what the General, who had just gone through this terribly anxious time, had to say."A pipeful of ship's tobacco, and I should be a happy man," was what he actually did say."I know where I can get some, sir," the Orphan interrupted. "Mr. Armstrong has plenty down at No. 3 Pier.""There's a picket-boat waiting for you there, General. Mr. Orpen will show you the way. Everything all quiet when you left?""Everything. The Turks haven't stirred from their trenches; have hardly fired a shot all night. We've brought everyone back."The Orphan piloted the General and his Staff Officer through the crowd of men round No. 3 Pier, and found Mr. Armstrong."General Bailey, sir; he wants a pipeful of ship's tobacco," he said, and left them there; hearing Mr. Armstrong's funny drawl: "You're—a—sort—of —cousin—of—mine—sir—your—brother—in—the— Navy—used—to—beat—me—thundering—hard—a— thundering—good—chap—take—the—whole— blessed—pouchful.""Bubbles!" the Orphan called, as he found the picket-boat, "I've brought you another General.""Put him down below in the cabin with 'Kaiser Bill'," Bubbles sang out laughingly. "What 'Kaiser Bill' doesn't know about looking after Generals isn't worth knowing."The wind by now had increased to almost the force of a gale, and a most unpleasant sea was swirling in through the gap in No. 1 Pier—where the pontoon had been—and round and between the ends of the sunken "hulks". In spite of this, those "covering parties" were safely taken off; the clumsy motor-lighters pushed and shoved out past the "Outer Hulk" by tugs and picket-boats, and then there was nothing much to do until those men marching back from the left flank and Gully Beach arrived. The Orphan was sent with some of the beach party to bring down the "gear" from the "wireless" station, and when he came back he found a white-painted hospital motor-lighter alongside No. 3 Pier. The Army doctor in charge had asked to be given an opportunity of trying to save the most valuable of the surgical stores still left in the Casualty Clearing-stations, and now was up there with nearly a hundred R.A.M.C. orderlies, bringing down cases of surgical instruments and expensive apparatus as fast as they could. They had already filled two big ambulance wagons, and man-handled them down on to the beach, and everyone was helping to unload them.As a matter of fact, the last night of the evacuation had gone off so smoothly, in spite of the unfortunate change of weather, that people hardly realized that the original scheme had been drafted under the impression that the "covering parties" would probably have to fight their way back. The maxims in the picket-boats had been placed in them so that the picket-boats should try and cover the embarkation of those last few people who would rush down to the beach; the white-painted hospital lighter was there to, if possible, take off any wounded who could crawl or hobble to it.In the complete absence of any interference by the Turks this fact had been almost forgotten.The Sapper working-parties, who had been sprinkling petrol over the Ordnance and Commissariat stores, now began to return, and set to work with pick-axes to smash the engines of some motor-lorries which had to be left behind, and rip their tyres to shreds.The Orphan having nothing whatever to do, and feeling very tired, wandered down to No. 3 Pier and found Bubbles and his picket-boat."I say, Bubbles, got anything to eat?"Bubbles had. He produced a packet of sandwiches out of a haversack, and the crew brought the two of them a bowl of hot cocoa. They sat on the top of the picket-boat's cabin, and whilst they were munching away happily, they heard someone singing out: "'Ave you seen Mr. Orpen about?"It was Plunky Bill's voice."Hello! What d'you want?" the Orphan called; "I'm here."Plunky Bill came aboard. "Beg pardon, sir; I thought as 'ow you and t'other young gen'l'man could do with a couple of army macintoshes. I've just 'appened to come across two;" and he added confidentially: "If you'd like any more, I knows where I might be able to lay me 'ands on 'em.""Where did you get them?" they asked; but Plunky Bill only told them that "he'd been looking round a bit". "I'll just stick 'em alongside 'Kaiser Bill', and then they'll be safe. You'll find a couple of them there 'lectric torches in the pockets.""Whatever else have you got?" Bubbles laughed, seeing that he was bulged out with things."Nothin' much, sir; nothin' but a few pairs of them injy-rubber trench boots, sir. It do seem such a shame to leave 'em for the Turks, and they'll come in 'andy on board."He put these boots down below under the forepeak, and went away again, towards the beach."That makes up for the macintosh spoilt by that shell the other day," Bubbles said. "They're jolly good things; you can wear them in plain clothes."They did think of calling him back and asking, him to bring down some more for the rest of the gun-room, but a picket-boat came lurching alongside with the Sub in it, and in their eagerness to know whether he had managed to get off the last of those guns they forgot about macintoshes."They're half-way to Mudros by this time," the Sub shouted happily. "I'm off to tell the Skipper. What's the delay? What are we waiting for?"They told him of the men from the left flank, and away he went.At about three o'clock the first destroyer came alongside the "Outer Hulk" and made fast. This would have been a difficult job in daylight, on account of the heavy sea which was running, the strong wind, a very strong current swirling down from the Dardanelles, the very limited space for manoeuvring, and the dangerous proximity of the lee shore. In the pitchy darkness of the night it was ten times as difficult.Thank goodness, just about this time, the first of those men began to tramp down the road from the ridge, footsore and weary after their long and anxious march—long march, that is, for men who had spent so many weeks continually in trenches. The Orphan helped to guide them down to No. 3 Pier, and they limped into the waiting motor-lighters, and were taken across to the destroyer.By a quarter to four, not a single soldier remained on the Gallipoli Peninsula except a Sapper "demolition" party busy setting fire to the petrol-soaked stores, and waiting to ignite the fuses which should blow up the magazines containing all the ammunition and explosives which had to be abandoned.By four o'clock these Sappers had come back to the beach and embarked aboard a motor-lighter. The whole circle of the ridge above "W" beach and the slopes of the gully now began to flicker with little flames, and in an incredibly short time the strong wind fanned them until the whole place was a mass of roaring, crackling fire.Captain Macfarlane, the few of his officers who had not yet gone off, and a few of his men, now collected at the end of No. 3 Pier, alongside which lay two steamboats and that white-painted motor-lighter laden with medical and surgical stores, a few injured men (including two soldiers with sprained ankles—actually the two last men to come down to "W" beach), and some R.A.M.C. orderlies. Bubbles, with his last load of military officers, with "Kaiser Bill" and the two macintoshes, had already gone out to sea, and was steaming across to Kephalo.Those flames lighted up the whole of "W" beach in the most extraordinary manner, and everything all round was visible—the little group on the pier, the stones on the beach, a white-tilted ambulance wagon with its Red Cross, half-way down the beach, the broad road running up between the huge masses of flame, the white hospital tents, an abandoned motor-lorry with its engines destroyed and its tyres hacked to pieces, the white stones which marked the boundary of the Naval Camp, and even the two "cuttings" which led to the Naval Mess "dug-out". Out by the "hulks" some of those last soldiers could be seen still scrambling aboard the destroyer.Captain Macfarlane gave the order for the hospital-lighter to shove off, and for everyone to embark, so the Sub, the Orphan, Mr. Armstrong, and many more crowded into one of those steamboats and started away. The time was now about ten minutes past four, and before they had gone a hundred yards the magazine on shore blew up. It contained all the explosives which it had not been possible to take off, and made the most earth-rending, stupendous noise, sending up a huge mass of flame like a volcano, and flaming masses flew gyrating and twisting like huge gigantic Chinese crackers high up into the sky and spreading far and wide in every direction."My—blooming—oath—what—price—that—for—fireworks!" drawled Mr. Armstrong."Keep down! Keep down!" people shouted, as masses of rock came splashing into the water all round the steamboat, but none hit her; and as she turned round the end of the "Outer Hulk", on the inner side of which the destroyer and several motor-lighters still lay, crowded with troops, and faced the sea, the Orphan saw the other steamboat following, with Captain Macfarlane and the rest of his officers and men, and the white hospital lighter struggling out, with the water splashing up all round her, just as though she were under a heavy fire. A tremendous crackle of musketry broke out from the beach, and for a moment the Orphan thought that the Turks had come down to the ridge at last; but a Sapper officer in the boat told him that this was only the abandoned small-arm ammunition exploding.Captain Macfarlane, passing them in his steamboat, sent them back to assist the hospital lighter if necessary; but she managed to make her way out safely, so in a few minutes they followed him.Another destroyer waited for them outside; they saw her, steamed alongside, and climbed aboard with some difficulty owing to the heavy sea. The huge blaze on shore lighted up every face, and the first person the Orphan recognized was Dr. Gordon, the Volunteer Surgeon of theAchates."We've just had some pieces of rock fall on board," he said, "but no one is hurt. How about you? They were falling all round your boat.""What are you doing here, sir?" the Orphan asked."They've sent a doctor to every destroyer to-night. Thank God, everyone has got off safely! You go and lie down; you look absolutely 'played out'.""We got off all the men and the last guns—the very last they intended to take off," the Orphan said. "Isn't that grand?" But he would not go and lie down. He stood watching the flames and the destroyer silhouetted against them, as she backed out to let another take her place and empty the remaining motor-lighters. The motor-lighters came out and headed into the heavy sea; the destroyer backed out and went ahead into safety, and the last that the Orphan saw was a solitary little picket-boat pushing her way in towards No. 3 Pier and the flames, to make a final search for anyone left there, and then coming out again.It was now about a quarter to five in the morning, and the marvellous evacuation had been successfully completed.Then the Orphan staggered aft, crawled below, almost fell on to one of the leather cushions down in the ward-room, and went fast asleep.Dr. Gordon, coming down a few minutes later, found him there, and felt his clothes. They were wet through, so he pulled a couple of blankets off a bunk and covered him up.By this time there were very few of the beach party or its officers who had not found somewhere to stretch themselves and go to sleep. The strain of those last ten days and nights had been very great—fourteen hours of hard work day and night for most of them; for some a great deal more—and even the Sub, strong as he was, could not have "stood" many more such days and nights without a rest.But the destroyer they were aboard had not finished her job. She and a cruiser now had to shepherd every tug, motor-lighter, trawler, and steamboat safely on its way across to Kephalo—especially those troublesome motor-lighters, which behaved so badly in a heavy sea. She went up the Straits, past "V" beach, where the fires blazing there showed up the castle walls of Sedd-el-Bahr and the poor oldRiver Clyde; steamed up as far as Morto Bay to see that no craft of any kind had been left behind; and it was not until nearly seven o'clock, and after the Turks had been shelling the beaches for nearly two hours, both from Achi Baba and the Asiatic shore, that she started away for Kephalo. By eight o'clock she ran into that crowded harbour.TheAchateshad left for Mudros several days previously, and thither Dr. Gordon, the Sub, Bubbles, the Orphan, and "Kaiser Bill" followed her late that afternoon in the troop-carrierErmine. As this plucky little steamer passed Cape Tekke and Cape Helles the fires still raged, and a cruiser, a monitor, and two destroyers were bombarding the shore.When the Orphan looked his last at Gallipoli Peninsula, as theErminesteamed away to the west, the cliffs of Cape Tekke glowed in the rays of the setting sun, with a great pall of black smoke above them, the masts of the sunken hulks at their feet, our own shells were bursting on the beaches, and a huge splash leapt up under the stern of the cruiser as a shell from "Asiatic Annie" fell into the sea close to her.By nine o'clock, after a wet and "bumpy" passage through the head sea left by last night's gale, the Sub, Bubbles, and the Orphan found themselves once more in the Honourable Mess, where everybody asked hundreds of questions at the same time, and where Barnes soon had a glorious "feed" waiting for them. Fletcher, the stoker, had come aft directly they reached the ship, to find out whether they had brought the tortoise back safely."It was all due to him," the Orphan told Fletcher joyfully. "You said he would bring good luck, and he has.""Kaiser Bill", however, did not show the slightest interest in getting back to the ship or his owner, and refused even to put out his head."His nerves are a bit out of order, I expect," Uncle Podger suggested."You should have seen him 'duck' when he heard the shells burst!" the Orphan laughed. "You're a bigger funk than I am; aren't you, old 'Kaiser Bill'?"
By now they had made themselves quite cosy in their corner of the dormitory; a sand-bag was placed over the shell hole in the roof; their beds were raised from the ground on some planks; they looted a washstand and a looking-glass from one of the hulks, and had much fun digging "cupboards" for themselves in the clay walls.
"Kaiser Bill", too, seemed quite at home, and enjoyed his occasional exercises on the slope below the Mess, waking up, sprinting gaily for three or four yards, and then sulking because nothing green grew there. However, they managed to get him green stuff occasionally, and in the evenings, whenever they were off duty, they took him into the Mess after dinner, and he became quite frisky in the warmth of the fire. Those evenings were very jolly after a hard day's work and a good dinner, sitting in "deck" chairs in front of the cheerful fire, yarning, and not worrying much about the shells which, every now and then, burst along the ridge and made the dry "clayey" walls shake bits down on the wooden floor—not worrying about them, in spite of the fact that if one fell on top of the Mess the Sub's tarpaulin and the timber roof would not keep it out, nor would the long skylight hatchway, taken bodily out of one of the hulks and now fitted into the roof of the Mess.
It was one of their amusements to see "Kaiser Bill" "duck" when he heard a shell burst. He might be scampering over the floor—or the table—at the rate of two feet a minute, with his head and neck stretched out, or be nibbling enthusiastically at a piece of fresh cabbage leaf or onion stalk; but directly he heard the thud and roar of a shell bursting, however far away, in would go his head and legs, and nothing would entice him to put them out again for at least half an hour.
Bubbles and the Orphan always placed him down between their bunks when they turned in—for luck.
Food was good and plentiful—the army cheese simply grand; water was fairly plentiful from wells and springs; as for the Ordnance stores, they could supply everything from an electric torch to a stove, from a wheelbarrow to a motor bicycle, from a pair of trench gloves to a pair of india-rubber trench boots coming half-way up your thigh.
In fact, everything went on comfortably, and a week after the two midshipmen had landed they had entirely forgotten about "evacuation", and only thought it a joke when a Turkish aeroplane dropped the message: "Good-bye, British soldiers; we know you are going, and are sorry to lose you".
Flies had of course disappeared with the cold weather—disappeared long ago, and the only bothering live things were rats—great, fat, sleek fellows, who ran hurdle races round the dormitory at night to keep themselves in good condition, jumping over the sleeping midshipmen and the other officers there.
One night the Orphan met Bubbles, and saw by his face that something unusual had occurred.
"What is it? Any news?"
"They're sending every one of those Greek labourers[#] away to-night. They've given them two hours to pack up, and you and I have to embark them. What does that mean, I wonder?"
[#] Some two hundred Greek labourers had been employed ever since the landing, and had, for the most part, worked well; constantly under fire.
"Perhaps they've caught them spying; making signals or getting information across to the Turks,' the Orphan suggested.
"I don't know; it's jolly rummy."
"There's a lot of ammunition to be landed to-night, some time after ten o'clock," the Sub said, joining them. "You'll have to go out in the lighter, Orphan, so you'll have a busy time."
Well, just before ten o'clock, when the Orphan had started to warp the empty lighter away from No. 4 Pier, a messenger came down from the N.T.O. to tell him that this ammunition was not to be landed, and he heard afterwards that it went back to Mudros immediately.
This roused their curiosity; and when, next night, three lieutenants and many more bluejackets arrived, and half a dozen of those motor-lighters (the "water-beetles") and many more picket-boats came across from Kephalo, everyone guessed that the final evacuation had been determined upon.
And, on the last day of the year, Captain Macfarlane came to take charge of the elaborate organization required to embark all the troops, guns, horses, and stores without the knowledge of the Turks. He became Senior Naval Transport Officer, and lived in his big "dug-out" along a path cut in the cliff beyond the Naval Mess, and known as "Park Lane" because all the senior officers had their "dug-outs" there.
The Sub, Bubbles, and the Orphan were immensely pleased that he had come—he had such a kind, good-humoured way of giving orders, and nothing ever flustered him.
From now onward, there were no more troops or stores to disembark; but the work of sending away the enormous accumulation of stores, and of gradually withdrawing troops, guns, horses, and mules, went on at high pressure. This took place at night. After dark, transports and store ships would come across from Kephalo or Mudros, anchor off "W" beach or "V" beach (which now had been handed over by the French to the British), and all through the dark hours large "soldier" working parties and the Naval beach parties would toil, carrying down the most valuable of the Ordnance and Sappers' and Commissariat stores, and loading them in lighters (wooden lighters, which had to be towed, or motor-lighters). When full, these would be sent off to the store ships, unloaded, and sent back again. Every night a troop-carrier would come slowly alongside the "Outer Hulk", make fast, and battalions of infantry, with their baggage and their maxims, would be taken across to her in motor-lighters from No. 3 Pier. Every night, too, many horses and many mules went off to the big transports anchored farther out, and were hoisted on board.
An hour and a half before dawn, every steamship, transport, and troop-carrier had to be away and out of sight; and if, as the time for departure arrived, any still had half-emptied lighters alongside, tugs would dash out and bring them back. Nothing whatever was allowed to delay these big ships, because upon their arrival and departure being absolutely hidden from the Turks the whole success of the operation depended.
At one time, before the first of those south-west gales had broken a gap in No. 1 Pier, it had been possible to walk along it, then up a gangway on board the "Inner Hulk", and from her to the "Outer Hulk", and so on board anything lying alongside her. This had made the embarking and disembarking of troops a very simple and rapid process; and as simplicity and rapidity would be so necessary on the last night of the evacuation, attempts were made to bridge the gap. The Orphan took part in this, working in the day-time under the orders of the Pier-master, a Naval lieutenant named Armstrong, a great solid man who always spoke extremely deliberately, weighing every syllable, and never appearing to get even mildly excited.
First of all a big pontoon was wedged in the gap, but did not quite fill it; the vacant intervals were then closed by means of barrels lashed stoutly together and held in place by wires and hawsers. If anything did go wrong, Mr. Armstrong would fill his pipe and say: "I say—my—blooming—oath—you—blokes— will—have—to—reeve—another—pretty—big—wire—there"; or, "I—say—Orpen—we—shall—have—to— lay—out—another—anchor—go—round—and—find— a—thundering—big—chap".
When at last these were all fixed to his liking, a broad wooden gangway platform was laid over all, between the broken-away ends of the gap.
This business occupied two whole days, during which time the Orphan had generally more wet clothes than dry. "If—you—don't—take—care—you'll—get —your—feet—wet," Mr. Armstrong told him one day, after he had been wading up to his waist in the shallow water, on and off for an hour.
Troops now could march straight on board the "Inner Hulk", then across to the "Outer Hulk", and so to whatever troop-carrier happened to be alongside her. This naturally relieved the congestion at No. 2 and No. 3 Piers, from which horses and stores were embarked.
But the job which the Orphan liked best was down at No. 4 Pier, working with the Sub and a very energetic warrant officer, getting off guns, motor-lorries, motor field-workshops, "caterpillar" traction engines, and motor ambulances.
Before dark they would get a couple of lighters alongside this pier, make them fast to the wall, then dash up to the Mess for a rapid dinner, and down again about an hour after dark, when the guns would commence to come rumbling down the ridge to the beach—field-guns, stumpy howitzers, and long 60-pounders.
Horse teams or "caterpillar" tractors dragged them through the sand to just above No. 4 Pier, unhitched, and left them there with their "crews". Then the beach party on the pier would make "fast" hook-ropes, and hauling on them, whilst the artillerymen man-handled the spokes of gun and limber wheels, along would come the gun and its limber, jolting aboard the lighter.
One after the other the guns would be coaxed aboard until the lighter could hold no more. Then the artillerymen, picking up their rifles and kits, would scramble on board, squat down between the gun wheels, cling on to the spokes, stow themselves away anywhere so long as they did not get in the way of the lighter's crew, who now hauled on a warp-rope, made "fast" to the end of No. 3 Pier, and warped the heavily laden lighter away from the wall of No. 4 Pier.
A picket-boat, waiting there, would get hold of her, and tow her out to the plucky and beautifully handled little tug T1. Then away she would be towed by that tug to search for the transport which had anchored off Cape Helles after dark. Presently the big ship would loom up, the lighter would be towed alongside, made "fast" under a derrick, and left there to unload. If any very heavy guns, or heavy, cumbrous things such as motor-lorries or "caterpillar" tractors, went off, the Sub or the Gunner always took charge of the lighter; but if the load consisted of field-guns, or such things as "general service" wagons, he sent the Orphan.
This was just the job the Orphan enjoyed—the taking charge of the soldier officers and their artillerymen, the warping off from No. 4 Pier, the tow-out in the darkness of those very dark nights, the job of getting his lighter safely secured to the big ship, and the delicate business of safely slinging each gun and limber or wagon to the ship's derrick "purchase". The purchase would be lowered with its great hook, the slings of one gun slipped over it, the Orphan would shout "Hoist away!" and whilst that gun dangled overhead in the dark, would busily secure the slings to the next, so that time should not be wasted when the purchase-hook came down again. It sometimes took a couple of hours to unload a lighter, but this depended entirely upon the officers and crew of the transport ship. One ship—theQueen Louise—would do the work in half the time which some others occupied.
The Orphan always felt so happy when the last wagon or the last gun of any particular load had been hoisted out of the lighter. It was so grand to know that "that little lot" would not fall into the hands of the Turks. Best of all, it was such fun to be hoodwinking "the old Turk" all this while.
Generally, from the time a loaded lighter shoved off from No. 4 Pier until she returned alongside, empty, at least two hours had elapsed, and as it often took an hour—sometimes a good deal more—to load up again, each lighter seldom made more than two trips a night.
Practically all this work went on in complete darkness. There was no moonlight, and the only lights allowed to be shown were small oil-lamps, one on each pier, and one on the far end of the "Outer Hulk". Fortunately, what breeze blew during the first nine nights came from the north-east, and did not interfere with the work; on most of these nights the air was absolutely still and the sea absolutely calm.
Before leaving off work in the morning, they would see that any guns remaining on the beach or in the lighters were carefully covered up with tarpaulins, so that the Turks could not see them from their inquisitive aeroplanes, which constantly came circling over, trying to find out what the British really intended to do.
Then, perhaps at half-past seven in the morning, thoroughly worn out, probably nearly wet through, back they would drag themselves up to the Mess, find Richards always ready for them with cocoa or coffee, bacon, sometimes eggs, and have their breakfast. Afterwards they would "turn in".
"My perishing Orphan!" the Sub would say, as he threw himself on his bed. "That's not a bad night's work—twelve guns, and any number of wagons and things. But I'm pretty well fagged out, and you look 'done to a turn'."
They would sleep till the middle of the day, get up, wash, have lunch, and probably go to sleep again till four or half-past. Then a good "high tea" Richards would provide for them; and, after that, all those who were on night duty—nearly all in fact—gathered in the Mess, smoked and yarned, and told how things were "going"—how many troops, how many guns, how many horses and mules, and how much stores had been safely sent away the night before.
Everyone knew and felt that every man, every gun, horse or mule, every motor-lorry, every ton of stores and ammunition sent off was so much to the good; and everyone—especially as the day for the final evacuation drew nearer—grew anxious lest the Turks should find out what was happening, and lest the gentle north-east breeze should give place to a south-westerly wind, which would drive seas against the different beaches, and delay—perhaps fatally delay—the final embarkation.
There was always the chance of this, and of the two or three thousand last troops to come marching back from the empty trenches being hotly pressed by the Turks, and of them and the whole of the beach parties finding it impossible to get off. To the Orphan, and to many more; it also seemed so absolutely unbelievable that the Turks could be deceived again; and they thought that they must really know about what was going on, and were only waiting until the trenches were so weakly held that they could make a successful assault, drive all that remained down to the sea, and capture them.
CHAPTER XXIV
The Evacuation of Cape Helles
Friday morning, the 7th January, came, and the Turks had given no sign whatever that they guessed what was going on. Shells burst as usual, and "Cuthbert", the aeroplane, circled overhead, saw what he could, dropped a few bombs on the ridge above "W" beach and near the oldRiver Clyde, and went home again before our own pursuing aeroplanes could catch him.
At two o'clock that afternoon the Turks commenced a fierce bombardment of the whole front-line trenches. The Asiatic guns tried to enfilade them, too, and for nearly three hours every gun they possessed blazed away for all it was worth.
The few guns we had remaining did their utmost to conceal the smallness of their numbers by the rapidity of their fire, though, naturally, everyone imagined that the Turks must realize how few they were.
At five o'clock the Turks evidently intended to storm the front which they had battered so severely, but, except on our extreme left, their men could not be induced to leave their trenches.
But here some five or six hundred did advance, and, unfortunately for them, came in full view of a battleship which had but lately come out from England, fearfully keen to fire her guns, and now happened to be zigzagging along the coast, attracted by the continual roar of the Turkish artillery. Eagerly looking for something to fire at, she saw, all at once, these poor devils of Turks streaming out of their trenches across open ground, and let go salvo after salvo into the middle of them. Not two hundred came anywhere near our thinly held trenches; some twenty reached them, and were promptly bayoneted; perhaps a dozen got back to their own. After this no further attack was made, and all firing died down at dusk.
The "last night but one" commenced.
All night long the work went on; more troops (after their nerve-shaking experience of that afternoon's three hours' bombardment) marched down with their baggage and their maxims, filed along No. 1 Pier across the "hulks" into theErmineand other troop-carriers, and were taken away. Many of the still remaining guns came back and were sent off from No. 4 Pier; very many horses were embarked from No. 3 Pier; and soldiers, like ants, streamed backwards and forwards between the beach and those store depots, bringing down stores and hurrying back for more.
All night long the Orphan listened with tingling ears for the sound of anything more than the customary sniping and passing bursts of nervous rifle-firing. But the Turks had had a sufficiently severe handling in the afternoon; they made no attempt to attack, and the night passed absolutely quietly, daylight on Saturday morning coming with everything going on just as usual. The troop-carriers, horse-transports, and store ships were long since hidden in Kephalo, or below the horizon on their way to Mudros; and though the aeroplane came over to reconnoitre and be driven home again, there was nothing unusual for it to report.
Exactly how many troops remained or how many guns, neither Bubbles nor the Orphan knew; but they did know that the very scantiest number of troops held the first-line trenches, and that the guns could almost be counted on fingers and toes. All these troops had to be got off that night, and almost all the guns.
"Would the weather hold for the last night?" That was what everyone asked himself. The sun rose behind Achi Baba not quite so clearly as it had done throughout the past week, but the breeze still blew gently from the north-east, and hardly a cloud flecked the blue sky.
Captain Macfarlane, tugging at his pointed beard, looked satisfied, and went up to his "dug-out" for breakfast and to turn in, after his all-night's work, and sleep for a few hours.
Bubbles, who had spent the night at "V" beach in his picket-boat, pulled the sleepy Orphan along the path to the Mess. "What d'you think I had last night? A bath—a hot bath—aboard theRiver Clyde! It was the last drop of hot water she had aboard her, for a shell came in half an hour before and cut a steam-pipe or something. Wasn't I lucky?"
They had this their last breakfast in Gallipoli, and then lay down on their beds and slept.
At midday they were called, turned out—horribly sleepy—and began to roll up their bedding and pack up the rest of their "gear", ready to be taken down to the beach. Most of the officers spent the morning doing the same.
The barometer had now begun to fall—ever so slightly—-and some clouds to gather in the west, low down in the horizon, behind the island of Tenedos.
Everyone felt a little anxious.
At three o'clock in the afternoon the breeze definitely shifted round to the south-west—the dangerous quarter—and all knew that if it increased much it would drive seas right on to the beaches, and add tremendously to the difficulties of this last night's work.
At five o'clock that afternoon many of the officers gathered in the Mess, which they were leaving for ever, and drank to the success of the evacuation. "Kaiser Bill" was taken out of his box, placed on the table, and drank a little milk out of a saucer for "good luck"; then Bubbles took him away to his picket-boat to make certain that he would not be left behind,whatever happened; and everybody went down to the beach and their different jobs, looking doubtfully and anxiously at the sun setting behind a gloomy bank of clouds, and the little "white horses" which already ruffled the surface of the sea.
"It will be all right," the Orphan told the Sub confidently as they walked down to No. 4 Pier. "If "Kaiser Bill" hadn't drunk his milk we might have been rather miserable."
"Youarea silly ass," the Sub laughed.
Night fell. The breeze freshened steadily, and the two lighters alongside No. 4 Pier already banged up against the stone wall in a very uncomfortable manner.
Presently some of those remaining guns began rumbling over the ridge to the beach, and their teams went round to No. 3 Pier, or cantered back over the ridge, with a jangle of harness and thudding of hoofs, to fetch more.
When the first lighter had been loaded—with field-guns mostly—her crew hauled her off by the warps, the south-west breeze blowing freshly in their faces, and the little waves already splashing against her bows. A picket-boat took hold of her and handed her over to tug T1, which towed her away to sea.
The Orphan went with this first load, and found it a very different matter to-night. Though the breeze had not yet attained any great strength, a slight, lumpy sea and swell ran, outside, and when he at last reached the transport's huge side he had much difficulty in bringing the clumsy, heavily loaded lighter alongside and making her "fast". As it was, she bumped and rose and fell so much that it took nearly two hours to hoist out all those guns, and their "crews", laden with their heavy kits, and most of them sea-sick, could hardly climb the awkward Jacob's ladders dangling down the ship's dark side.
At last the lighter was cleared, and the tug, lurching out of the darkness, brought off the Gunner with another heavily laden lighter, left him alongside, and towed the Orphan back.
It was now nearly eleven o'clock; the breeze had become a strong wind, and meeting the current flowing out of the Dardanelles, raised an angry, steep sea. This immensely increased the difficulties of handling the motor-lighters, steamboats, and small tugs which simply swarmed off "W" beach and its piers. The clumsy motor-lighters were a danger to themselves and a terror to others, for they often refused to answer their helms when they left the lee of the sunken hulks and their bows first met the seas. It required much skilful seamanship for the steamboats to get hold of them in the pitchy darkness and turn them in the right way.
The Orphan found more guns waiting to be taken off, and he was about to commence to haul them on board his lighter when an order came that they were to be destroyed where they stood. Some Sappers arrived, and began fixing gun-cotton charges in them.
"They are the last of the guns to be sent off," said the officer in charge of them. "It does seem rough luck, doesn't it?"
"What was it like when you left?" asked the Orphan.
"Perfectly quiet; that was an hour ago," he told him.
The Orphan had nothing to do now but wait for further orders.
There was so much wind blowing inshore, towards the trenches, that though he strained his ears he could not hear the sound of the usual sniping, rifle-firing—in fact he could hear nothing from the direction of the trenches. Every now and then a momentary flash showed out behind the ridge on the Asiatic shore, and one of "Asiatic Annie's" shells came along; to-night they nearly all burst on the ridge close to Cape Helles lighthouse, and absolutely harmlessly. Occasionally a big monitor, half-way across the Straits, fired a 12-inch gun, and then everything round "W" beach, and the white tents above it, were lighted up momentarily—like the click of a camera shutter—and the Orphan would catch a sudden glimpse of motor-lighters and picket-boats, horses and men, on No. 3 Pier, perhaps long lines of troops coming down the road from the ridge, or a motor-lorry or motor-ambulance coming down to the beach. Then the blackness shut down again, except for the tiny flicker of the oil-lamp tied to a post at one corner of the pier.
The Orphan passed this time of waiting talking to the disappointed Gunner officer, who told him yarns of yesterday's fierce bombardment, and said how annoyed they had been when that battleship had wiped out their beautiful "target" of advancing Turks. "You'll hear, all right, if the Turks do get into our trenches to-night, after our chaps have left them," he said. "They are all mined, and most of the communication trenches too. There will be the most infernal noise."
Then out of the darkness came Captain Macfarlane and the Sub. The Orphan heard the Captain say: "All right, you can try and take those guns off. If you can't manage it, blow them up in the lighter."
Then he was sent round to No. 1 Pier to find out why two motor-lighters could not get off. He scrambled along the beach, past the end of No. 3 Pier, where a large number of gun- and limber-teams were waiting to embark in lighters—the horses waiting much more patiently and quietly than "humans" would have done—and then past a regiment which had just marched in from the trenches, most of the men lying down to relieve the weight of their heavy packs. The Orphan guessed correctly that most of these packs had a Turkish shell—or two—in them as "curios".
By the time he reached No. 1 Pier and found Mr. Armstrong, things were in a bad way. Two crowded motor-lighters lay there, lashed side by side, bumping uneasily, and the new platform over the pontoon and those barrels which filled the gap in it was swaying and creaking in a most unpleasant manner, waves thudding against it every moment.
"Curse—the—lighters—curse—everything!" swore the Lieutenant, pronouncing each syllable very deliberately, and without the faintest trace of excitement. "The—whole—show—will—go—in—a—minute— barrels—pontoon—and—lighters—as—well. One— of—the—con-founded—lighters—can't—start—her— engines—and—the—other—one—has—smashed—hers."
"The Captain is sending a tug in to help," the Orphan shouted loudly—one had to shout because of the creaking and grinding of the pontoon and barrels, the noise of the wind and waves, and the bumping of the motor-lighters.
Then a tug did back gingerly in, passed a tow-rope aboard the lighters, and started to tow them out; but the rope "parted" as it took the strain, and the two crowded motor-lighters, catching an eddy of the strong wind and current, began drifting helplessly back again on to the damaged pier. In another half-minute they would have been hopelessly crushed against it; but, in the nick of time, the engine of one of them took it into its head to start, and just managed to move the two of them sufficiently to give the tug a chance of getting hold of them and towing them out to sea and safety.
"My—blooming—oath!" said Mr. Armstrong; "that—was—a—near—thing," and he sucked hard at his pipe.
A man, coming from the "Inner Hulk" over the straining pontoon, shouted to him: "A destroyer has just made 'fast' inside the 'Outer Hulk', sir."
"All—right; I'll—send—the—troops—along. Go—along—and—fetch—'em," he told the Orphan; "those—blokes—sitting—along—the—thundering—beach. Tell—'em—to—thundering—well—get—a —move—on—if—they—don't—want—to—be—left—behind. Con-found—this—pipe!" As the Orphan darted away he heard the rending sound of timber cracking and ropes "parting". He found some officers; they passed the "word" along; gave orders, and No. 1 Company of that battalion rose to their feet, picked up their rifles, and commenced to straggle down to the pier. As the Orphan and the first of them reached it, there came a loud crashing of smashing woodwork, loud shouts of "She's carried away, sir!" people came running back from where the pontoon had been; and Mr. Armstrong, walking slowly up to him, said: "The—thundering—thing's—carried —away—al-to-gether. It's—the—very—devil. Go—and—tell—the—N.-T.-O. See—if—you—can—find— me—a—bit—of—wire—my—pipe's—choked."
Back went the Orphan to No. 4 Pier, but Captain Macfarlane was not there, nor at No. 3 Pier. Someone took him to the new office "dug-out" at the top of the beach; and there he found him, sitting at a table with an oil-lamp hanging above it, smoking a cigarette, tugging at his beard, and looking quaintly amused at a number of officers who were all asking him questions at the same time.
The Orphan wriggled his way through them, and burst out with: "The 'barrel pier' has gone, sir—washed away!"
"How very annoying, Mr. Orpen; very annoying indeed!" he said, smiling grimly. "We shall have to send the soldiers off from No. 3 Pier. Go down and tell the pier-master to embark them on the two 'stand-by' motor-lighters, and tell Mr. Armstrong to go down and help him."
The Orphan, noticing that the lamp was hanging by a piece of wire, thought that there might be some more somewhere about, looked round, and saw a piece lying under the table—just what Mr. Armstrong would like. He picked it up, and was just wriggling his way out again when the Captain wanted to know what he was doing.
"Mr. Armstrong's pipe is choked, sir, and I saw this bit of wire."
"Dear me! dear me!" smiled the Captain. "Misfortunes never come singly; do they, Mr. Open?"
"No, sir," said the Orphan, not knowing what else to say, and dashed off; found the Pier-master—another Naval Lieutenant—and gave his message. Then he went off with his piece of wire to clear Mr. Armstrong's pipe, and tell him to go down to No. 3 Pier.
"All—right—hold—this—thundering—megaphone— whilst—I—clean—my—pipe."
At No. 3 Pier these latest arrived troops were already marching down into the "stand-by" motor-lighters, with a scuffling of tired feet, a clatter of rifle-butts, and the continual, monotonous, weary sound of "Form two deep! Form two deep!" as more infantry neared the shore end of the pier.
They were tired and dirty and trench-stained, and they cursed as they stumbled against each other in the dark, but they were very cheerful. As soon as one lighter had taken as many as she could hold, she shoved off, and grunted and snorted across to the "Outer Hulk".
"Nip over there; jump into that steamboat," the Pier-master called out. "Find out how many more men that destroyer can take."
The Orphan jumped down into a picket-boat lying alongside, and found Bubbles there.
As he took him across to the destroyer, the Orphan asked him what he had been doing all night.
"Generals, and their Staffs," Bubbles shouted happily. "You've no idea what a lot of trouble I've had with them. Some of them have actually started giving me orders. I've 'told 'em off' properly. They get quite tame then. I've taken some off from 'V' beach as well; everything's going on well down there. This sea running in is pretty beastly, isn't it?"
The Orphan climbed up the destroyer's side, and found her deck crammed with soldiers. He pushed his way up to the fore bridge, and heard her Captain yelling down to the men on the "Outer Hulk": "Get some more fenders along. Slack off that hawser." He was told that "If you don't 'get out of it' in a 'brace of shakes' you'll get a sea-passage, for nothing. I'm just going to shove off out of it. I can't take another soldier, and I'll stove my side in if I stay here much longer."
The Orphan went back to the steamboat, across to the pier, and reported that the destroyer was just shoving off.
"I can see that for myself," grumbled the Pier-master, as a flash from the monitor's gun suddenly showed the destroyer backing out.
This same flash also showed a heavily-laden lighter being warped off from No. 4 Pier, so the Orphan knew that the Sub had managed to start his journey with those last guns.
Then two teams of horses came jangling down to the pier unexpectedly, and the irritated Pier-master sent Bubbles to try and find a horse-boat or lighter alongside the "Inner Hulk". He came back with one; was nearly run down by another destroyer; got it alongside. Those twelve horses walked down into it as if they knew all about the business, and the very last horse to be taken off from "W" beach was towed away into the darkness.
Captain Macfarlane came down and told them that he had received a telephone message from Headquarters Office that the trenches had been finally evacuated, and the covering brigades withdrawn. "Everything IS absolutely quiet up there," he said.
The Orphan and Bubbles were greatly excited at that news. They tried to picture these last troops stealthily creeping out of their long line of trenches—extending from Ghurka Bluff and the Nullah, across the plain in front of Krithia, along the lower slopes of Achi Baba, and across and along the ravines past Sedd-el-Bahr—coming down the communication trenches, treading softly, and not making a sound, expecting all the time that Turkish patrols would give the alarm, and that the Turks would only be waiting for that moment to light the plain with star shells and rush down on them.
"We should hear the mines blow up, anyway," the Orphan said, as both snotties stood and listened, hearing nothing but the howling of the wind and the lapping of the waves, and the bumping of the picket-boat against the pier.
"It must be exciting for them," Bubbles said, bubbling with excitement.
After having secured several empty motor-lighters alongside, in readiness to embark the last troops, there was nothing to do.
"Have—a—sand-wich?" said Mr. Armstrong, producing a bulky package which Richards had prepared for him. They ate them sitting on the top of the picket-boat's cabin, as she bobbed and bumped against the side of the pier. Mr. Armstrong told them that one of the Generals coming down was a cousin of his named Bailey, and that if he did come down to this pier he wasn't to go off without seeing him. General Bailey had a brother who had been a Sub in charge of a gun-room when Mr. Armstrong was a midshipman in it. "A—thundering—good—chap," Mr. Armstrong said. "He—used—to—beat—me— thundering—hard—have—an-other—sandwich."
Before the sandwiches were finished, the Orphan had to go up to the Captain's beach office. The Senior Military Landing Officer, rather upset about something, was talking nervously.
"Oh, Mr. Orpen, there are some men who can't be taken off from Gully Beach, round by the left flank, on account of the heavy sea," the Captain said calmly. "They are starting to march this way. Go down and tell the Pier-master and Mr. Armstrong to collect as many empty motor-lighters as possible. Come back here when you have given this message."
When he returned, the Captain gave him a signal to take up to the temporary "wireless" station, a little way along the top of the cliff.
"You had better hurry," he said, good-humouredly, looking at his watch, "if you really don't mind, or they'll be packed up before you get there."
The Orphan dashed off up the main road, and then along the branch path to where he knew the "wireless" station had been "put up".
"You're just in time," the Naval Lieutenant in charge of it said; "I was just going to give the order to 'pack up'."
"Here!" he shouted to the operator. "Call up those two destroyers; they'll be wanted to come alongside the 'Outer Hulk'."
"The N.T.O. says you can pack up when you get those signals through, sir," the Orphan said.
"All right; those destroyers will have the deuce of a time getting alongside if the wind goes on increasing as it's been doing for the last half-hour," the Lieu-tenant said. "What d'they want 'em for? anything gone wrong?"
The Orphan told him, and as he turned back he ran into some soldiers carrying heavy square tins.
"What are you doing?" he asked one of them.
"Going off to soak the stores with petrol," he said, and hurried on up to the Ordnance Depot.
Down the main road were now coming the first of the "covering parties"—some of the men who had actually stayed in the trenches till the last moment, many of them limping heavily, most of them talking cheerily. Some had maxim guns on their shoulders, others carried the tripod-stands, others maxim belt-boxes.
"Which way for the Margate steamer?" a Cockney voice called out.
"Turn to your right when you get on the beach," the Orphan shouted as he passed them; and the same voice called back: "Hi, Guv'nor! I've lost me return ticket. I ain't got no money, and I don't want to be left behind—I ain't 'ankering after a trip to Constantinople."
The tired men began to laugh.
The midshipman found Captain Macfarlane in his office, and told him that these men were coming down. He went out and stood at the top of the beach as they went past, their feet scrunching on the stones and shuffling through the sand as they marched down to No. 3 Pier, straight aboard the motor-lighters waiting for them.
A little officer came past, walking with a very tall one.
"Is that General Bailey?" called Captain Macfarlane.
"Hullo, Macfarlane! I knew your voice," he replied, stopping.
"Everything all right?" asked the Captain; and the Orphan remembered that this was Mr. Armstrong's cousin, and listened eagerly for what the General, who had just gone through this terribly anxious time, had to say.
"A pipeful of ship's tobacco, and I should be a happy man," was what he actually did say.
"I know where I can get some, sir," the Orphan interrupted. "Mr. Armstrong has plenty down at No. 3 Pier."
"There's a picket-boat waiting for you there, General. Mr. Orpen will show you the way. Everything all quiet when you left?"
"Everything. The Turks haven't stirred from their trenches; have hardly fired a shot all night. We've brought everyone back."
The Orphan piloted the General and his Staff Officer through the crowd of men round No. 3 Pier, and found Mr. Armstrong.
"General Bailey, sir; he wants a pipeful of ship's tobacco," he said, and left them there; hearing Mr. Armstrong's funny drawl: "You're—a—sort—of —cousin—of—mine—sir—your—brother—in—the— Navy—used—to—beat—me—thundering—hard—a— thundering—good—chap—take—the—whole— blessed—pouchful."
"Bubbles!" the Orphan called, as he found the picket-boat, "I've brought you another General."
"Put him down below in the cabin with 'Kaiser Bill'," Bubbles sang out laughingly. "What 'Kaiser Bill' doesn't know about looking after Generals isn't worth knowing."
The wind by now had increased to almost the force of a gale, and a most unpleasant sea was swirling in through the gap in No. 1 Pier—where the pontoon had been—and round and between the ends of the sunken "hulks". In spite of this, those "covering parties" were safely taken off; the clumsy motor-lighters pushed and shoved out past the "Outer Hulk" by tugs and picket-boats, and then there was nothing much to do until those men marching back from the left flank and Gully Beach arrived. The Orphan was sent with some of the beach party to bring down the "gear" from the "wireless" station, and when he came back he found a white-painted hospital motor-lighter alongside No. 3 Pier. The Army doctor in charge had asked to be given an opportunity of trying to save the most valuable of the surgical stores still left in the Casualty Clearing-stations, and now was up there with nearly a hundred R.A.M.C. orderlies, bringing down cases of surgical instruments and expensive apparatus as fast as they could. They had already filled two big ambulance wagons, and man-handled them down on to the beach, and everyone was helping to unload them.
As a matter of fact, the last night of the evacuation had gone off so smoothly, in spite of the unfortunate change of weather, that people hardly realized that the original scheme had been drafted under the impression that the "covering parties" would probably have to fight their way back. The maxims in the picket-boats had been placed in them so that the picket-boats should try and cover the embarkation of those last few people who would rush down to the beach; the white-painted hospital lighter was there to, if possible, take off any wounded who could crawl or hobble to it.
In the complete absence of any interference by the Turks this fact had been almost forgotten.
The Sapper working-parties, who had been sprinkling petrol over the Ordnance and Commissariat stores, now began to return, and set to work with pick-axes to smash the engines of some motor-lorries which had to be left behind, and rip their tyres to shreds.
The Orphan having nothing whatever to do, and feeling very tired, wandered down to No. 3 Pier and found Bubbles and his picket-boat.
"I say, Bubbles, got anything to eat?"
Bubbles had. He produced a packet of sandwiches out of a haversack, and the crew brought the two of them a bowl of hot cocoa. They sat on the top of the picket-boat's cabin, and whilst they were munching away happily, they heard someone singing out: "'Ave you seen Mr. Orpen about?"
It was Plunky Bill's voice.
"Hello! What d'you want?" the Orphan called; "I'm here."
Plunky Bill came aboard. "Beg pardon, sir; I thought as 'ow you and t'other young gen'l'man could do with a couple of army macintoshes. I've just 'appened to come across two;" and he added confidentially: "If you'd like any more, I knows where I might be able to lay me 'ands on 'em."
"Where did you get them?" they asked; but Plunky Bill only told them that "he'd been looking round a bit". "I'll just stick 'em alongside 'Kaiser Bill', and then they'll be safe. You'll find a couple of them there 'lectric torches in the pockets."
"Whatever else have you got?" Bubbles laughed, seeing that he was bulged out with things.
"Nothin' much, sir; nothin' but a few pairs of them injy-rubber trench boots, sir. It do seem such a shame to leave 'em for the Turks, and they'll come in 'andy on board."
He put these boots down below under the forepeak, and went away again, towards the beach.
"That makes up for the macintosh spoilt by that shell the other day," Bubbles said. "They're jolly good things; you can wear them in plain clothes."
They did think of calling him back and asking, him to bring down some more for the rest of the gun-room, but a picket-boat came lurching alongside with the Sub in it, and in their eagerness to know whether he had managed to get off the last of those guns they forgot about macintoshes.
"They're half-way to Mudros by this time," the Sub shouted happily. "I'm off to tell the Skipper. What's the delay? What are we waiting for?"
They told him of the men from the left flank, and away he went.
At about three o'clock the first destroyer came alongside the "Outer Hulk" and made fast. This would have been a difficult job in daylight, on account of the heavy sea which was running, the strong wind, a very strong current swirling down from the Dardanelles, the very limited space for manoeuvring, and the dangerous proximity of the lee shore. In the pitchy darkness of the night it was ten times as difficult.
Thank goodness, just about this time, the first of those men began to tramp down the road from the ridge, footsore and weary after their long and anxious march—long march, that is, for men who had spent so many weeks continually in trenches. The Orphan helped to guide them down to No. 3 Pier, and they limped into the waiting motor-lighters, and were taken across to the destroyer.
By a quarter to four, not a single soldier remained on the Gallipoli Peninsula except a Sapper "demolition" party busy setting fire to the petrol-soaked stores, and waiting to ignite the fuses which should blow up the magazines containing all the ammunition and explosives which had to be abandoned.
By four o'clock these Sappers had come back to the beach and embarked aboard a motor-lighter. The whole circle of the ridge above "W" beach and the slopes of the gully now began to flicker with little flames, and in an incredibly short time the strong wind fanned them until the whole place was a mass of roaring, crackling fire.
Captain Macfarlane, the few of his officers who had not yet gone off, and a few of his men, now collected at the end of No. 3 Pier, alongside which lay two steamboats and that white-painted motor-lighter laden with medical and surgical stores, a few injured men (including two soldiers with sprained ankles—actually the two last men to come down to "W" beach), and some R.A.M.C. orderlies. Bubbles, with his last load of military officers, with "Kaiser Bill" and the two macintoshes, had already gone out to sea, and was steaming across to Kephalo.
Those flames lighted up the whole of "W" beach in the most extraordinary manner, and everything all round was visible—the little group on the pier, the stones on the beach, a white-tilted ambulance wagon with its Red Cross, half-way down the beach, the broad road running up between the huge masses of flame, the white hospital tents, an abandoned motor-lorry with its engines destroyed and its tyres hacked to pieces, the white stones which marked the boundary of the Naval Camp, and even the two "cuttings" which led to the Naval Mess "dug-out". Out by the "hulks" some of those last soldiers could be seen still scrambling aboard the destroyer.
Captain Macfarlane gave the order for the hospital-lighter to shove off, and for everyone to embark, so the Sub, the Orphan, Mr. Armstrong, and many more crowded into one of those steamboats and started away. The time was now about ten minutes past four, and before they had gone a hundred yards the magazine on shore blew up. It contained all the explosives which it had not been possible to take off, and made the most earth-rending, stupendous noise, sending up a huge mass of flame like a volcano, and flaming masses flew gyrating and twisting like huge gigantic Chinese crackers high up into the sky and spreading far and wide in every direction.
"My—blooming—oath—what—price—that—for—fireworks!" drawled Mr. Armstrong.
"Keep down! Keep down!" people shouted, as masses of rock came splashing into the water all round the steamboat, but none hit her; and as she turned round the end of the "Outer Hulk", on the inner side of which the destroyer and several motor-lighters still lay, crowded with troops, and faced the sea, the Orphan saw the other steamboat following, with Captain Macfarlane and the rest of his officers and men, and the white hospital lighter struggling out, with the water splashing up all round her, just as though she were under a heavy fire. A tremendous crackle of musketry broke out from the beach, and for a moment the Orphan thought that the Turks had come down to the ridge at last; but a Sapper officer in the boat told him that this was only the abandoned small-arm ammunition exploding.
Captain Macfarlane, passing them in his steamboat, sent them back to assist the hospital lighter if necessary; but she managed to make her way out safely, so in a few minutes they followed him.
Another destroyer waited for them outside; they saw her, steamed alongside, and climbed aboard with some difficulty owing to the heavy sea. The huge blaze on shore lighted up every face, and the first person the Orphan recognized was Dr. Gordon, the Volunteer Surgeon of theAchates.
"We've just had some pieces of rock fall on board," he said, "but no one is hurt. How about you? They were falling all round your boat."
"What are you doing here, sir?" the Orphan asked.
"They've sent a doctor to every destroyer to-night. Thank God, everyone has got off safely! You go and lie down; you look absolutely 'played out'."
"We got off all the men and the last guns—the very last they intended to take off," the Orphan said. "Isn't that grand?" But he would not go and lie down. He stood watching the flames and the destroyer silhouetted against them, as she backed out to let another take her place and empty the remaining motor-lighters. The motor-lighters came out and headed into the heavy sea; the destroyer backed out and went ahead into safety, and the last that the Orphan saw was a solitary little picket-boat pushing her way in towards No. 3 Pier and the flames, to make a final search for anyone left there, and then coming out again.
It was now about a quarter to five in the morning, and the marvellous evacuation had been successfully completed.
Then the Orphan staggered aft, crawled below, almost fell on to one of the leather cushions down in the ward-room, and went fast asleep.
Dr. Gordon, coming down a few minutes later, found him there, and felt his clothes. They were wet through, so he pulled a couple of blankets off a bunk and covered him up.
By this time there were very few of the beach party or its officers who had not found somewhere to stretch themselves and go to sleep. The strain of those last ten days and nights had been very great—fourteen hours of hard work day and night for most of them; for some a great deal more—and even the Sub, strong as he was, could not have "stood" many more such days and nights without a rest.
But the destroyer they were aboard had not finished her job. She and a cruiser now had to shepherd every tug, motor-lighter, trawler, and steamboat safely on its way across to Kephalo—especially those troublesome motor-lighters, which behaved so badly in a heavy sea. She went up the Straits, past "V" beach, where the fires blazing there showed up the castle walls of Sedd-el-Bahr and the poor oldRiver Clyde; steamed up as far as Morto Bay to see that no craft of any kind had been left behind; and it was not until nearly seven o'clock, and after the Turks had been shelling the beaches for nearly two hours, both from Achi Baba and the Asiatic shore, that she started away for Kephalo. By eight o'clock she ran into that crowded harbour.
TheAchateshad left for Mudros several days previously, and thither Dr. Gordon, the Sub, Bubbles, the Orphan, and "Kaiser Bill" followed her late that afternoon in the troop-carrierErmine. As this plucky little steamer passed Cape Tekke and Cape Helles the fires still raged, and a cruiser, a monitor, and two destroyers were bombarding the shore.
When the Orphan looked his last at Gallipoli Peninsula, as theErminesteamed away to the west, the cliffs of Cape Tekke glowed in the rays of the setting sun, with a great pall of black smoke above them, the masts of the sunken hulks at their feet, our own shells were bursting on the beaches, and a huge splash leapt up under the stern of the cruiser as a shell from "Asiatic Annie" fell into the sea close to her.
By nine o'clock, after a wet and "bumpy" passage through the head sea left by last night's gale, the Sub, Bubbles, and the Orphan found themselves once more in the Honourable Mess, where everybody asked hundreds of questions at the same time, and where Barnes soon had a glorious "feed" waiting for them. Fletcher, the stoker, had come aft directly they reached the ship, to find out whether they had brought the tortoise back safely.
"It was all due to him," the Orphan told Fletcher joyfully. "You said he would bring good luck, and he has."
"Kaiser Bill", however, did not show the slightest interest in getting back to the ship or his owner, and refused even to put out his head.
"His nerves are a bit out of order, I expect," Uncle Podger suggested.
"You should have seen him 'duck' when he heard the shells burst!" the Orphan laughed. "You're a bigger funk than I am; aren't you, old 'Kaiser Bill'?"