On the afternoon when the first German submarine arrived, and sent the oldAchatesflying to Mudros in the scurry of transports and store-ships, they watched her go without any real regrets. The Orphan and Bubbles certainly preferred to stay where they were; and though, perhaps, the Lamp-post, at the bottom of his heart, longed to get away from the flies and shells, they could never get him to admit it.Then, three days later, theTriumphwas sunk—along the coast, off Anzac—and all the battleships left Cape Helles; all except the oldMajestic, who came along and anchored so close to "W" beach that you could almost throw a stone on board her from the casualty clearing-station tents on top of the cliffs."They won't 'get' her there, not with all those trawlers and little steamers round her," Bubbles said. But on Friday morning, just as they were turning to work, and the Orphan was "standing by" in his picket-boat to "run an errand", they heard a rumbling explosion, looked round, saw a huge column of water spout up alongside her, close to her after bridge, and heard and felt another explosion."They've got her!" everyone sang out as she began to turn over very rapidly; and the Orphan, shouting to Plunky Bill to shove off, dashed towards her to pick up men already jumping from her sloping deck into the sea. She heeled over so extraordinarily rapidly that the Orphan never had a chance of going alongside, but stood off, and with other steamboats, with trawlers, drifters, a French torpedo-boat, and any number of other boats of all descriptions, made a ring round the doomed ship, to which her crew swam. The Orphan pushed his boat so close that he had to back out to prevent her fore mast-head and "wireless" gear fouling him as it heeled down to the water's edge. It was a horrid and sad sight; but the Orphan was too busily engaged pulling people out of the water to pay much attention to that; and when his picket-boat could hold no more, he turned them over to a small coasting steamer anchored near, and went back again. By this time she was bottom up.The sinking of this ship had a most depressing effect on everyone; and even the casual Orphan and thoughtless Bubbles wondered what "Gallipoli Bill" would do, now that there was no ship left with guns big enough to annoy him. However, that elusive howitzer had evidently very little ammunition to spare—probably one of our "E" submarines in the Sea of Marmora had sunk a steamer with a supply she was expecting—so six shells, twice a day, were as much as he could allow himself.You will notice that no mention is now made of the small shells. They still fell on "W" beach and in the sea, close to the piers, at all hours of the day; but unless they came in numbers, no one took any notice of them. Their fuses were so poor that they seldom burst, and when they did, they seldom did any harm.The three midshipmen's time ashore was now drawing to a close, and four days after theMajestichad been sunk—how they did wish her ram wouldn't stick out of the water and remind them of her!—a signalman brought down a signal: "Officers and men ofAchatesbeach party will embark in Trawler 370 at 11.30 to-day. Trawler will takeAchatespicket-boat in tow."It was not until they had embarked, and the Orphan had made "fast" a hundred feet of rope from his picket-boat to the trawler's stern, that they learnt that theAchateshad been sent to Mytilene, and that they were to join her there.They waved good-bye to "W" beach just as "Gallipoli Bill" dropped a big shell half-way down the gully, and the Lamp-post and Bubbles realized the relief of not having to wonder where the next one would come."Well, we've had a jolly good time—take it all round—but for the flies," Bubbles said. "It will be a good thing to get back to the ship for a while.""Won't we have a bath, and won't it be grand to get into uniform—clean uniform and under-things again!" said the Lamp-post; and Bubbles gurgled: "Won't I have a grand feed!" forgetting what the Orphan had told him of the state of the gun-room stores.CHAPTER XIVSubmarines AppearDown in the gun-room of theAchates, during this month after the landing, the air was full of rumours—buzzes of all sorts and little "titbits" of information, gleaned haphazard everywhere and anywhere. Every snotty—the Orphan, the Hun, Rawlins, or any of the "stranger" midshipmen—who took his boat alongside a transport or man-of-war, or to one of the piers at "W" or "V" beaches, came back stuffed with yarns which lost nothing by the telling: the Dublins had lost every officer; the Worcesters all but two; the Turks were torturing prisoners; there was a fearful shortage of doctors; the beaches were simply crowded with wounded, and there was nowhere to put them; Krithia had fallen—the yarn spread after every attack; thePrince Georgehad a huge hole made in her by one of "Asiatic Annie's" 8-in shells; the poor oldRiver Clydewould have to be abandoned—she was being hit so often; theGoebenand two Turkish battleships were just above The Narrows—the aeroplane had seen them—and they might come down at any moment; theAgamemnonhad knocked out three "Asiatic Annies" in one afternoon; theQueen Elizabethhad fired three of her big 15-inch shells across the Peninsula—the first had sunk two big lighters filled with ammunition, the second had dropped short and only wiped out a regiment on the march, and the third had sunk a nine-thousand-ton steamer, anchored above Nagara, crowded with troops, none of whom was saved. The Pimple, who brought this last piece of news, knew it was true, because the Navigator had heard it from a man, who had heard it from the friend of a man, who had been told by the "observing" officer in the captive balloon which "spotted" for theQueen Elisabeth.Then there was the constant rumour that "last night's counter-attack by the Turks was just their last final effort; they were going to make peace now it had failed". Poor old Turks! they had nothing to gain by being so obstinate, and they had no food and were short of ammunition—everything; they were simply longing to "throw up the sponge" if only the Germans would let them.Russia intended landing five hundred thousand troops quite close to Constantinople; Italy was about to declare war and send fifty thousand to help in the Peninsula; the French had a hundred thousand already on the way; and Kitchener, good old Kitchener, had made up his mind to send out two hundred thousand. Shan't we walk through them?Another snotty would burst in with the news that he had heard, on good authority, that directly all the mines had been swept up, the ships were to make another dash up The Narrows, this time towing pontoon "things" alongside them to stop torpedoes. Another heard that all destroyers had been ordered to rush through one night, steam up the Sea of Marmora, and bombard Constantinople.There was no limit to the inventive genius of the "rumour spreaders", and the appetite for fresh, spicy news became so keen that anybody who brought back no titbit was thought a "hopeless rotter".But one day, on the 12th May, Uncle Podger came into the gun-room with a long face: "Two German submarines have been reported passing Malta," he said. This yarn was too incredible to be believed by the young warriors coiled there, on the cushions, in their dirty Condy's-fluid-stained clothes; and they greeted it with such derisive yells, shouting, "Go away and make up something else, Fatty!" that Uncle Podger, who did not appreciate any such familiarity from strangers, did not bother to tell them that it happened to be the simple truth. This was the first day on which it became generally known that German submarines were approaching; and the certain fact caused much consternation to all, especially to those who had previously buoyed themselves with the hope that these craft could not make such a long voyage in time of war.A very general feeling of uneasiness made itself felt.That same day the first high-explosive to burst on "W" beach had brought everyone on deck, drawn there by the sound of its mighty thunder-clap; and sent them down again wondering whether it would be possible to hold "W" beach under such conditions much longer. The most optimistic looked grave, and even the cheery, irresponsible Navigator realized that this was not the occasion to invent yarns and send them rolling.Discussion in the ward-room that night was carried on fitfully and in low tones, and whenever the door opened everyone would turn to see if the newcomer's face showed that he had heard anything "fresh". Among all brooded a very pervading feeling of depression. The tall, aristocratic, and also pessimistic Major of Marines explained in a low voice to the anxious little Padre, sucking nervously at his big pipe, the terrible anxieties of a General whose army has no secure base and whose lines of communication—in this special case, the sea—are threatened; the Navigator, on the other side, pointed out to the Fleet-Paymaster how impossible it would be for the battleships to stay where they were, when the submarines did put in an appearance. The cheery Fleet-Paymaster kept on saying: "But, my dear chap, we've got plenty of destroyers and trawlers; they ought to keep them away at night-time, and surely we can look after ourselves in the daylight."The Fleet-Surgeon, more gloomy and querulous than ever, growled: "What the dickens d'you know about it? They'll come right enough. We're just like sheep waiting for the little dog that's coming across the field to worry them; they pretend they'll stick together and show a bold front, and know all the time they'll be off like redshanks directly he gets near. We're rats in a trap, that's what we are." He seemed to obtain great satisfaction from the last idea.The Gunnery-Lieutenant, stamping nervously from one end of the ward-room to the other, joined in all the conversations, and kept on bursting out with: "We must have a 'go' at that high-explosive chap to-morrow, and try and knock him out before they come;" they being, of course, the submarines.The War Baby—that youngest thing in subalterns of Royal Marines—sprawled over the ward-room table, with his chin on his fists, anxiously listening to everybody, hoping to glean something or other which would point a way out of the difficulties and comfort him. The Commander, coming down from making certain that the ship had been darkened properly, snapped out: "I can't get those transports to 'darken ship'. The Admiral has ordered everything, big or little, not to show a single light; and there they are, many of them, showing a blaze of lights as bright as the Strand by night." He rang the bell and sent the sentry to find Mr. Orpen. Presently that young officer appeared, and was ordered "to go round every ship in that darned anchorage and make 'em put out their lights—and don't let me catch any of your boat's crew smoking alongside the ship, as they were this morning, or I'll——" But the Orphan didn't wait for the penalty to be mentioned, answered "Very good, sir," exchanged undetected winks with the War Baby, and went out again.Everybody turned in, that night, with their thoughts full of submarines.An hour after midnight the poor oldGoliathwas struck by three torpedoes, and sank. She had anchored only that afternoon, up beyond Sedd-el-Bahr and opposite a promontory known as "De Tott's Battery" to protect the left flank of the French army and she lay farther up the Straits and nearer to Chanak Fort—the big fort at the entrance to The Narrows—than any other ship. Beyond this fort a Turkish destroyer was known to be lying, just above The Narrows; and to prevent her making a sortie, four of our destroyers patrolled the waters between Chanak Fort and De Tott's Battery, dodging a very brilliant search-light on Chanak Fort which lighted up this area night after night.Now the previous evening, just before sunset, a heavy and most unusual bank of fog had rolled slowly out of The Narrows, and made the night so dark that the look-outs on board the patrolling destroyers and on board theGoliathcould hardly see a cable's length in front of them. It was just the night that that Turkish destroyer would be waiting for; and when Chanak search-light was not switched on at all, and the Straits were shrouded in thick, ominous darkness, theGoliath'speople had a suspicion that "something" would happen, and kept a more ready watchfulness.Shortly after one o'clock the "look-outs" on her bridge, and round the guns on the fore shelter-deck, sighted a dark mass on her starboard bow, and made it out to be a destroyer, drifting, stern first, with the current, towards the ship, just as our own patrolling destroyers had been accustomed to do. They used to steam towards Chanak and its search-light, stop engines, and drift back with the current which always flowed down through The Narrows, drift down until they were abreast De Tott's Battery, and then steam back again.At first she was thought to be a British destroyer, but something roused suspicions, the "challenge" was flashed across; she flashed back, but incorrectly; and, realizing that she was an enemy, orders were given to open fire on her. Two shots blazed out, but they were too late; she let fly three torpedoes, one after the other, all of which struck "home"; and in four minutes theGoliathhad rolled over, taking down with her more than five hundred of her officers and men.Those on deck in theAchateshad heard the muffled explosions, and seen the search-lights from the other battleships above Sedd-el-Bahr searching the surface of the water there; but not for some time did anyone know what had really happened—not until a signal flashed across to say that theGoliathhad been sunk, and to ask for steamboats to be sent to search for survivors.The Orphan, who had only just returned from his long job of making all the obstinate transports and other ships "darken ship" properly, was immediately sent up to the scene of the catastrophe, and the Hun, with his steam pinnace, followed. They picked up and brought back one dead body and a mere handful of very much shaken men. As you know, everyone had turned in that night with "submarines on the brain"; so when Dr. Gordon went to the Fleet-Surgeon's cabin and woke him with "Get up, turn out, P.M.O., theGoliathhas been sunk, and our boats have gone for survivors!" you can imagine that the Fleet-Surgeon naturally thought that a submarine had done this, so was none too happy. "It'll be our turn next; rats in a trap! My God! I wish I'd never come to sea," he kept groaning as he slipped into his clothes, found his swimming-belt,[#] and hurried on deck.[#] By this time the swimming-collars had been replaced by belts with greatly increased buoyancy.The news, when it came at last, that she had been sunk by a destroyer came almost as a relief, because, in spite of the official signal to the contrary, everyone hoped, down at the back of his brain, that perhaps a mistake had been made, and that those submarines reported from Malta would turn out to be a myth.In fact, next morning at breakfast, the Torpedo-Lieutenant was quite bright and cheery. He was a destroyer expert, and always pooh-poohed submarines as much overrated craft, so now never tired of saying "Destroyers are some good after all, you see," and seemed to take as much pride in the success of the Turkish destroyer, as if it had been an English one which had sunk a Turkish battleship.Without a doubt, everyone admired the pluck and cunning of this destroyer and its German crew (it was known afterwards that the crew was German), however much—or little—the loss of theGoliathaffected him; and, truth to tell, it was not the loss of the ship nor of the men that affected most people, but the moral effect and the addition to the general feeling of depression and uneasiness—uneasiness which, it must be remembered, was not by any means chiefly caused by fear for the actual safety of the ships and themselves, but by the dread of what would happen to the Army when left unsupported in its very insecure position on the Peninsula, with the difficulties of supplying itself with stores and reinforcements so enormously increased. Those howitzers, too, might render the position untenable, especially as, given time, there was no reason why the Turks should not bring up more and still heavier guns.Some of the surviving officers lived on board theAchatesfor a few days, and slept in hammocks on the half-deck, close to the China Doll. He will never forget those nights when he turned in—always nervous of submarines, and with his swimming-belt all ready round his chest, in case of need—and then had to listen to them relating their gruesome experiences before and after the old ship rolled over and they had jumped into the water. They were suffering the after effects of their shock, and could talk of nothing else all day long, and most of the night as well.The China Doll would hear, out of the dark, coming from one of them: "You remember when that second explosion came—you were standing close to me—in the battery—the one that shot up that column of water which cut the cutter in half—you remember—it fell on old Tompkins—it was old Tompkins, wasn't it?—it crushed him—don't you remember him howling?—just for a second—and then, not answering when you sung out to him."Another voice—a big, gruff one—would "chip in": "I'd just said to the Gunner, 'That's not one of our destroyers—look at her funnels—you mark my word—that's not one of ours'—just before we fired that first shot—it didn't hit—I swear I heard a torpedo fired—the first one—the one that hit us under the bridge—and I'm certain I heard someone sing out: 'Gut! sehr gut!'—he must have been a German—he sang it out after each torpedo hit us."Another voice out of the darkness, from a hammock close to the China Doll, broke in with: "My word! she did topple over—I could never have believed it I was in my cabin—just had time to rush up to the gangway—the water was pouring over the coaming—couldn't stand on the quarter-deck—I don't know how I got to the rails—I dragged myself up somehow, and crawled right round her—oh, my God! the cries inside her—men who couldn't get out."The big, gruff voice, which had stopped to listen, interrupted again: "I got out through a gun-port, crawled along the side—when she turned over the bilge keel caught me and dragged me under—I never knew how I came up again—a man close to me—swimming in the water—had his face smashed in by a plank which shot up from below—I got hold of the plank—it kept me up till theLord Nelson'spicket-boat found me."It was not as if these disjointed remarks were made only once, but they were repeated over and over again; just as if the thoughts they expressed had been fixed so indelibly in their brains, to the exclusion of everything else, that when night and darkness came they were again so vivid that they had to be given utterance to.The poor China Doll, with his swimming-belt round his chest, would listen, with hair on end, until he could stand it no longer; then he would jump out, and run up on deck and wait, perhaps for an hour, until they were silent. How grateful he was to wake up and see daylight coming through the gaps in the hatchway awning-cover, and to know that another night was over! A good many more were as thankful as he was.Next day the early morning "air" reconnaissance—made by aeroplane—reported having seen five submarines travelling past Kephez Point."That puts the hat on it," moaned the Fleet-Surgeon when he heard of them; and everybody marvelled how they had managed to elude the scouting trawlers and destroyers. But most people felt a sense of relief that the days of waiting for their coming were now over, and that whatever was going to happen would do so soon. However, the evening "air reconnaissance" reported that these five submarines were still there, but had now turned out to be buoys which we ourselves had moored—so the grim tension was relieved for a little while.On that day "Gallipoli Bill" burst very many high-explosive shells on "W" beach, apparently chiefly out of bravado, to express his glee at the sinking of theGoliath. Next day theAgamemnon, theSwiftsure, and the heavy batteries on shore "went" for him, but could not hit him. The "spotting" aeroplanes did their best to locate him and to direct the firing; but a dummy gun is so easily put somewhere, where it can be seen from above, and a real gun can so easily be shifted and hidden, where it cannot be seen, that quite possibly the ships and the shore batteries were never firing at the real gun. At any rate, directly they ceased fire, "Gallipoli Bill" threw half a dozen more shells along the ridge above "W" beach, and "pulled their legs" pretty thoroughly.Things went on quietly for the next two or three days, although the howitzers did a lot of mischief on shore. Rumours came that a trawler had sighted a periscope off Imbros island, thirteen miles away, and it seemed definitely ascertained that two submarines had arrived at Smyrna.On the 18th May theAchatesrelieved theSwiftsure, and from this date, until driven away by submarines, she became a "bombarding" ship. She once more ceased to fly a flag; the Admiral left her, taking with him his two Assistant Clerks; best of all, the devouring host of strange snotties and their steamboats also departed, and quietness and peace reigned in the gun-room. But, like Old Mother Hubbard's cupboard, the gun-room store was bare—a fact which brought bitter grief to the Pimple and the China Doll.There was another submarine scare that night. A trawler fired two Very's lights, which meant "have sighted a hostile submarine", and things "hummed" considerably until it turned out that she had mistaken E11, on her way up the Straits, from Mudros, for an enemy submarine.Also, during that same night the Turks commenced their desperate thirty-six-hour attack on Anzac, and for all that period an almost incessant roar of heavy guns came down wind from there. This attack ended most disastrously for the enemy, who lost more than three thousand men killed. The Honourable Mess heard afterwards many yarns of this fight—yarns of the Turks pressing through gullies against the Australian and New Zealand trenches, pouring through in dense masses, shouting "Allah! Allah!" and never ceasing that cry, because they believed that no bullet would touch them with the sacred name on their lips, and being shot down in hundreds and hundreds, until, in fact, some of the Australians, who had clambered on top of their parapets the better to shoot, refused to shoot any longer. Pressed along by the masses behind them, the front ranks could not retreat—some, throwing away their rifles, ran towards the trenches with their hands above their heads, apparently demented, shouting "Allah! Allah!"Perhaps they thought that God would give them victory over the "infidel" with their bare hands; perhaps they wanted to surrender; but none reached those trenches. In front of one maxim alone, 380 dead were counted when at last the attacks had melted away, and the Turks had obtained an armistice to bury their dead.Now that she was "bombarding" ship, theAchateshad the job of looking after "Gallipoli Bill", and often an aeroplane would fly up to "spot" for her whilst she tried to knock him out.Such a day's firing would be arranged and start something like this.Perhaps Captain Macfarlane had been ashore the afternoon before, to stretch his long legs, and on coming back to the ship would send for the Gunnery-Lieutenant. "Oh, look here, I've been ashore this afternoon. That 6-inch howitzer is bothering everyone a good deal; it dropped one near me—it may not have known I was there—but I thought it distinctly rude; the Left Flank Observation Post—I was up there this afternoon—think they have spotted him—just to the left of that single tree near the windmills—you know it—the place where those dummy field-guns used to be; how about having a try for it in the morning?""Yes, sir! Certainly, sir! We had better ask for an aeroplane, I suppose," the very "strict-service" Gunnery-Lieutenant would suggest."Certainly! Certainly! Ask them to send a specially nice one this time, perhaps a white one with blue spots would look pretty."The Gunnery-Lieutenant, who was absolutely devoid of all sense of humour, would look up startled, only to see the Captain thoughtfully tugging at his pointed yellow beard."I don't think there are any like that, sir. They have tried various colours, but none are invisible. I think they have none like that, sir.""Oh! Very well, we must just take our chance. Perhaps they will send us one with pretty red, white, and blue rings," the Captain would reply gravely, without a tremor of an eyelid; and off would go the bewildered Gunnery-Lieutenant to write out a signal "requesting permission to bombard Target 159G7", or whatever was the dot on the military map nearest to "Gallipoli Bill", and wonder whether Captain Macfarlane was going "off his head". Whilst waiting a reply from the Admiral, he might run across the Fleet-Surgeon and tell him what the Captain had said. "I suppose there's nothing the matter with him, Doc.? You don't think the strain is telling on him?""Nothing the matter with him! Of course not," would snap Dr. O'Neill. "It's yourself, you fool; your silly noddle's so stuffed with wretched gunnery, you haven't room for a joke. He was pulling your leg.""But where's the joke about 'white with blue spots'—I've never seen one like that?" and the Gunnery-Lieutenant would scratch his head."Oh! get out of it; you're hopeless!" Dr. O'Neill would growl.Presently the signal would come that the proposed bombarding had been approved by the Admiral, who would make arrangements for a "spotting" aeroplane at ten o'clock.Thus were details fixed for another attempt to destroy "Bill".In the morning the Gunnery-Lieutenant waited to see how the current, or the breeze, or both together, made the ship swing. Perhaps that especial morning she swung with her stern inshore, so that "X" group of 6-inch guns—the group on the starboard side, aft—bore most easily. So, after breakfast, the Gunnery-Lieutenant sent for the War Baby—in charge of these guns—and showed him the exact spot on the map and, taking him up into the main-top, the special tree close to which "Bill" had last been seen—the tree on which he had to train his guns.The aeroplane with its pilot, the "observer" and his wireless apparatus, started away from the "advanced" aerodrome near Helles lighthouse, commenced to climb up into the "blue", and, when ready, signalled "Ready to Commence".By this time the Gunnery-Lieutenant in the fore-top, the Captain on the bridge, the War Baby in the sighting hood of X1, and the guns' crews in X1 and X2 beneath it, just abaft the gun-room, were all ready and waiting. "Ranging shot at eight—five—o—o, common shell," the Gunnery-Lieutenant sang down through his voice-pipe; and watched, as X1 fired, away along to the right of Krithia, between the last of the windmills and that single tree, where he hoped that the aeroplane could see "Bill", although he could not do so himself. Up went the cloud-burst, and in perhaps fifty seconds the voice-pipe from the "wireless" room called "Short 200"—the signal that had just come from the aeroplane.Frequently, on these occasions, the enemy "wireless" stations would "block" the "wireless" signals from the aeroplane, or make "spotting" signals of their own, to confuse the annoyed Gunnery-Lieutenant. Always if the aeroplane ventured too near "Bill", the Turks burst shrapnel round her.Sights were corrected, and another shot fired; out of the "blue" came the signal "Right, one hundred and fifty yards". That meant altering the training or, if the gun was kept on that single tree all the time, altering the deflection scale on the sight.And so, for perhaps twenty rounds, firing went on. "Bill", wherever he was, had never spoken a word; the aeroplane signalled "O.K.", the interpretation of which being that, as far as she could see, the last shell had made a direct hit; and presently the Gunnery-Lieutenant, who generally had the idea that the aeroplane "spotter" didn't know his left hand from his right, or "overs" from "shorts", and also was as blind as any bat, thought it was about time to finish, and would climb down and ask the Captain if he should "pack-up".The War Baby's guns' crews were then ordered to secure and "sponge out" their guns, and a searchlight signal was made to the aeroplane that the firing was finished. Down she would circle to her aerodrome, and if she had anything exciting to tell, would signal it across from the Naval Signal Station close at hand.After such a proceeding it often happened that, almost before the aeroplane had come down to land, "Bill" would plump three or four high-explosive shells on "W" beach or in the soldiers' "rest" camp. He was a facetious fellow, very wanting in tact, and most elusive.To understand the difficulties of hitting him, you must try and imagine yourself on the deck of an ordinary steamer, standing somewhere about twenty feet above the level of the water. The distance of the sea horizon is then just a little over five miles. If you now imagine that, instead of a continuous, uninterrupted curved line, the curve of the horizon is broken up by small gullies and ravines and depressions, in any one of which "Gallipoli Bill" may be concealed—in fact,isabsolutely hidden from you—and all you know is that he is supposed to be in line with, perhaps, a particular tree which you can see; that up above, there is an aeroplane quite possibly "spotting" on a dummy gun, and that only a direct hit will destroy "Bill", you obtain a good idea of the difficulties of hitting him from where you are—standing in your steamer.One day, in order to reduce the range, theAchatesanchored in another billet, off "X" beach, farther along the "outside" coast of the Peninsula, and had hardly dropped her anchor before a cheeky battery of 4.1-inch guns began dropping their shells all round her. It was impossible to locate the battery, and there was no option but to shove off again, out of range. Again, you must bear in mind that the flashes these guns make when fired are very slight, and quite momentary, also that dummy flashes were also fired some distance away. The only sure proof that the actual position of the firing gun had been located was by observing the cloud of dust blown up from the ground in front of the gun. The size and density of this depends naturally upon the kind of ground, and also, of course, a position behind ground thickly covered with bushes is generally chosen to reduce the dust to a minimum; so that, at a range of five miles, what dust is thrown up is very, very seldom visible.In the course of the campaign many of the Turks' guns were knocked out by the ships; but every shell must fall somewhere, and if you fire a sufficient number, sooner or later a lucky one may do the "trick" and fall on the exact spot required.But a ship's magazines are not inexhaustible; with very little effort she could empty them in an hour, and be as useless as a Thames barge until they were refilled. If there had been an inexhaustible supply in the ammunition ships at Mudros, and if a ship had made full use of it, she would have worn out her guns in next to no time; accurate firing would be impossible, and the ship again practically useless.Knowing all these things, you should now be able to realize the extraordinary difficulties of hitting a single gun from ships at those necessarily long ranges, and be able to understand their comparative failure to do so.To return to the submarines. It was on a Saturday, the 22nd May, that the first German submarine actually made its appearance off the Peninsula. Just as the Honourable Mess had finished their meagre lunch, a signalman brought the Sub a signal, just received from theTriumph, at anchor off Anzac. The Sub read it aloud: "Hostile submarine sighted N.E. of Gaba Tepe"."Well, it's a good thing to get the show over," the Sub said; and Uncle Podger remarked that "At any rate it will be pretty to watch." They all went on deck; and the sight of a long line of transports, store ships, and hospital ships hurrying across from Anzac to the little protected harbour of Kephalo, in the island of Imbros, made it certain that they evidently did not doubt that a submarine had been seen."They're in earnest, at any rate; there's a pretty picture for you," said Uncle Podger as he watched them, the smoke simply pouring out of their funnels as they made haste to get out of danger. All ships round Cape Helles—some forty or fifty ships of all kinds—were ordered to raise steam, and theAchates, shortening in her cable, waited for whatever would turn up. Close to her lay theSwiftsure; and both had to rely for protection on the keenness of their "look-outs" and the quickness of their guns' crews, because neither ship had torpedo-nets—theAchatesnever possessed any; theSwiftsure'swere lying in a store-house in Bombay Dockyard, where she had left them a year before war broke out.Everyone felt sure that "something" would happen shortly, and actually experienced a sense of relief to at last be faced with the danger which had so long threatened. Very many took good care—very good care—to secure their swimming-belts under their tunics, in readiness to blow them up should the necessity arise.It was a glorious day, with a very slight "ruffle" on the sea; and, as Uncle Podger told the nervous China Doll: "My dear chap, you couldn't want a better day for a swim."At half-past one thePrince George, in a new coat of paint, steamed under theAchates'stern. She had returned from a twenty-four-hours "spell" up the Straits, looking after the Asiatic howitzers, and as she turned slowly into position, to anchor, she suddenly began to blaze away with her small guns, for'ard, and went full speed ahead. At the same moment the cruiserTalbot, about a mile away, hoisted the signal "hostile submarine in sight", and fired a blank charge to draw attention to it. "Close water-tight doors" was piped along the decks; the crew dashed down below; and the China Doll, trembling with excitement, made his way for'ard, and saw the splashes of thePrince George'sshells following and bursting all round what looked like the swirl and heave of water which a big fish would make when swimming just below the surface. One of the gun's crews near him shouted that he saw a periscope; another, an obvious liar, swore that he could see the tail rudders.Two destroyers came dashing down—a smother of black smoke and white foam—dashing right in among the shell splashes—or so it seemed to the nervous Assistant Clerk—and then began scurrying round and round in circles, seeking something to pounce upon.But the submarine had dived, and, whatever her skipper's intentions were, she never showed herself again that day.ThePrince Georgecame solemnly back and let go her anchor, like some half-worn-out old watch-dog who had gone barking round to drive off intruders and then returned to his kennel door; whilst theSwiftsurestarted off to join the destroyers in their search.But then commenced a most extraordinary exodus of shipping from Cape Helles. Transports and store ships hove up their anchors and started off on their sixty-mile journey to Mudros to seek safety behind the submarine net across the entrance. TheAchatesreceived orders to proceed there too, and, you may be sure, was not long getting under way, steaming on a straight course until a signal came from the Admiral, "Achateszigzag". The sea from Cape Helles was one long line of hurrying steamers. Two big "crack" French liners, theFranceandLa Provence, the first of which had only arrived that morning, and had not yet begun to disembark the four thousand troops on board, lingered at anchor for nearly an hour. They were such huge ships, and were such tempting submarine targets, that everyone wondered why they delayed. Presently, however, they joined in the race for safety, and catching up theAchates, steamed past her as though she had been at anchor.Was not the China Doll, and many more, too, aboard her, delighted when theAchatesslipped through the "gate" in that submarine net!That night theAlbionandCanopus, off Anzac, remained under way, for safety. During the night theAlbion"took" the ground off Gaba Tepe, and, not being able to get off, was exposed to a very heavy fire at daybreak from howitzers, field-batteries, and also from the 12-inch guns of a Turkish ironclad, somewhere above The Narrows, and firing across the land. Fortunately, this fire was as inaccurate as it was heavy; but the situation was most dangerous and unpleasant until theCanopuscame along, in the thick of the shells, laid out some hawsers to her, and at the second attempt towed her clear, with a total loss of only one man killed and nine wounded.The next two days passed quietly; no submarines were seen or heard of, until on the second morning, at half-past eight, a periscope was suddenly observed passing along between theSwiftsureandAgamemnon, at anchor off Cape Helles not six hundred yards from each other. Fire was opened immediately, and down dipped the periscope, to appear again just ahead and on theSwiftsure'sstarboard bow. TheSwiftsure's14-pounders blazed away, under went the periscope and did not appear again.It is a mystery why she did not fire a torpedo; presumably she had no time to get into position to make a good shot. A signal sent to the ships off Gaba Tepe and Anzac warned them; but just before half-past twelve theTriumphthere was struck by two torpedoes. The news that she had a list brought all theSwiftsure'sofficers and men on deck. Sure enough, they could see her through telescopes listing heavily, and two destroyers standing by. In twenty minutes the red composition on her bottom showed above the water; she rapidly fell over, remained bottom upwards for some eight minutes, and then disappeared. Fortunately, very few of her crew were lost.Another exodus of ships followed, and only the poor oldMajesticand theHenri IV, that quaint old Frenchman—with the Captain who feared neither mine nor torpedo—remained off the Peninsula. Three days' grace theMajesticreceived, and then she too met her fate, a submarine creeping up, with her periscope just showing, and firing two torpedoes at her through a gap between two small store ships. At 6.45 a.m. on Friday, 28th May, the poor old ship received her death-blows, and seven and a half minutes later capsized. For months her ram just appeared above the water off "W" beach, until the autumn gales made her settle farther down and mercifully hid her from sight.It is not surprising that the general feeling of uncertainty and uneasiness due to the approach or German submarines should, now that they had arrived, sunk two big ships, and driven the others away, give place to one of foreboding and depression.The army, which had landed with such proud hopes of opening the gates of The Narrows for the fleet to pass through, had fought itself to a standstill at Helles and Anzac; its supply beaches were constantly under shell-fire, and even the "rest" camps daily gave up their toll of dead and wounded from shells shrapnel or high-explosive.The big ships could not use the narrow waters with freedom or safety; and if one, two, three, or five submarines, whatever their number was at this time, had already made the long voyage from Germany, ten, fifteen, or twenty might follow; and even if the big ships forced their way to Constantinople, these submarines could make it impossible for them to stay there.Everyone wondered what would be the next move—what would happen next.There were two bright patches of cheerful sky between the dark clouds: our own submarines, working with unparalleled daring and skill, passed up and down The Narrows, through the nets laid across to catch them, almost at their ease, and prevented the Turks from using the Sea of Marmora to bring up troops or stores; the Commander-in-Chief himself remained optimistic, in spite of all.Dr. O'Neill, meeting Captain Macfarlane, who had just returned from the yachtTriad, which now flew the Commander-in-Chief's flag, asked him: "How about the Admiral, sir? I suppose he is even more depressed than we are?""Not a bit of it," Captain Macfarlane told him. "He is quite cheery; he has a lot 'up his sleeve' yet."From now onwards, the battleships remained behind the nets at Mudros or Kephalo. From these, every now and again, one or other of them would dash out with escorts of destroyers; an aeroplane would circle overhead to 'spot' for her; and she would bombard the Asiatic guns, Achi Baba, Sari Bair, above Anzac, or the Olive Grove, near Gaba Tepe, where the Turks always had several guns. Having done as much damage as possible, back she would steam, zigzagging all the way into safety.And from this time all stores, ammunition, and reinforcements were carried across to the Peninsula at night in trawlers, small coasting steamers, and what were termed "fleet sweepers"; these being small steamers, of a thousand to fifteen hundred tons, which had—most of them, at any rate—previous to the war, been employed in the passenger and freight traffic on the cross-Channel, Irish, or Channel Island services.Splendidly did they carry out their work—very frequently under fire.
On the afternoon when the first German submarine arrived, and sent the oldAchatesflying to Mudros in the scurry of transports and store-ships, they watched her go without any real regrets. The Orphan and Bubbles certainly preferred to stay where they were; and though, perhaps, the Lamp-post, at the bottom of his heart, longed to get away from the flies and shells, they could never get him to admit it.
Then, three days later, theTriumphwas sunk—along the coast, off Anzac—and all the battleships left Cape Helles; all except the oldMajestic, who came along and anchored so close to "W" beach that you could almost throw a stone on board her from the casualty clearing-station tents on top of the cliffs.
"They won't 'get' her there, not with all those trawlers and little steamers round her," Bubbles said. But on Friday morning, just as they were turning to work, and the Orphan was "standing by" in his picket-boat to "run an errand", they heard a rumbling explosion, looked round, saw a huge column of water spout up alongside her, close to her after bridge, and heard and felt another explosion.
"They've got her!" everyone sang out as she began to turn over very rapidly; and the Orphan, shouting to Plunky Bill to shove off, dashed towards her to pick up men already jumping from her sloping deck into the sea. She heeled over so extraordinarily rapidly that the Orphan never had a chance of going alongside, but stood off, and with other steamboats, with trawlers, drifters, a French torpedo-boat, and any number of other boats of all descriptions, made a ring round the doomed ship, to which her crew swam. The Orphan pushed his boat so close that he had to back out to prevent her fore mast-head and "wireless" gear fouling him as it heeled down to the water's edge. It was a horrid and sad sight; but the Orphan was too busily engaged pulling people out of the water to pay much attention to that; and when his picket-boat could hold no more, he turned them over to a small coasting steamer anchored near, and went back again. By this time she was bottom up.
The sinking of this ship had a most depressing effect on everyone; and even the casual Orphan and thoughtless Bubbles wondered what "Gallipoli Bill" would do, now that there was no ship left with guns big enough to annoy him. However, that elusive howitzer had evidently very little ammunition to spare—probably one of our "E" submarines in the Sea of Marmora had sunk a steamer with a supply she was expecting—so six shells, twice a day, were as much as he could allow himself.
You will notice that no mention is now made of the small shells. They still fell on "W" beach and in the sea, close to the piers, at all hours of the day; but unless they came in numbers, no one took any notice of them. Their fuses were so poor that they seldom burst, and when they did, they seldom did any harm.
The three midshipmen's time ashore was now drawing to a close, and four days after theMajestichad been sunk—how they did wish her ram wouldn't stick out of the water and remind them of her!—a signalman brought down a signal: "Officers and men ofAchatesbeach party will embark in Trawler 370 at 11.30 to-day. Trawler will takeAchatespicket-boat in tow."
It was not until they had embarked, and the Orphan had made "fast" a hundred feet of rope from his picket-boat to the trawler's stern, that they learnt that theAchateshad been sent to Mytilene, and that they were to join her there.
They waved good-bye to "W" beach just as "Gallipoli Bill" dropped a big shell half-way down the gully, and the Lamp-post and Bubbles realized the relief of not having to wonder where the next one would come.
"Well, we've had a jolly good time—take it all round—but for the flies," Bubbles said. "It will be a good thing to get back to the ship for a while."
"Won't we have a bath, and won't it be grand to get into uniform—clean uniform and under-things again!" said the Lamp-post; and Bubbles gurgled: "Won't I have a grand feed!" forgetting what the Orphan had told him of the state of the gun-room stores.
CHAPTER XIV
Submarines Appear
Down in the gun-room of theAchates, during this month after the landing, the air was full of rumours—buzzes of all sorts and little "titbits" of information, gleaned haphazard everywhere and anywhere. Every snotty—the Orphan, the Hun, Rawlins, or any of the "stranger" midshipmen—who took his boat alongside a transport or man-of-war, or to one of the piers at "W" or "V" beaches, came back stuffed with yarns which lost nothing by the telling: the Dublins had lost every officer; the Worcesters all but two; the Turks were torturing prisoners; there was a fearful shortage of doctors; the beaches were simply crowded with wounded, and there was nowhere to put them; Krithia had fallen—the yarn spread after every attack; thePrince Georgehad a huge hole made in her by one of "Asiatic Annie's" 8-in shells; the poor oldRiver Clydewould have to be abandoned—she was being hit so often; theGoebenand two Turkish battleships were just above The Narrows—the aeroplane had seen them—and they might come down at any moment; theAgamemnonhad knocked out three "Asiatic Annies" in one afternoon; theQueen Elizabethhad fired three of her big 15-inch shells across the Peninsula—the first had sunk two big lighters filled with ammunition, the second had dropped short and only wiped out a regiment on the march, and the third had sunk a nine-thousand-ton steamer, anchored above Nagara, crowded with troops, none of whom was saved. The Pimple, who brought this last piece of news, knew it was true, because the Navigator had heard it from a man, who had heard it from the friend of a man, who had been told by the "observing" officer in the captive balloon which "spotted" for theQueen Elisabeth.
Then there was the constant rumour that "last night's counter-attack by the Turks was just their last final effort; they were going to make peace now it had failed". Poor old Turks! they had nothing to gain by being so obstinate, and they had no food and were short of ammunition—everything; they were simply longing to "throw up the sponge" if only the Germans would let them.
Russia intended landing five hundred thousand troops quite close to Constantinople; Italy was about to declare war and send fifty thousand to help in the Peninsula; the French had a hundred thousand already on the way; and Kitchener, good old Kitchener, had made up his mind to send out two hundred thousand. Shan't we walk through them?
Another snotty would burst in with the news that he had heard, on good authority, that directly all the mines had been swept up, the ships were to make another dash up The Narrows, this time towing pontoon "things" alongside them to stop torpedoes. Another heard that all destroyers had been ordered to rush through one night, steam up the Sea of Marmora, and bombard Constantinople.
There was no limit to the inventive genius of the "rumour spreaders", and the appetite for fresh, spicy news became so keen that anybody who brought back no titbit was thought a "hopeless rotter".
But one day, on the 12th May, Uncle Podger came into the gun-room with a long face: "Two German submarines have been reported passing Malta," he said. This yarn was too incredible to be believed by the young warriors coiled there, on the cushions, in their dirty Condy's-fluid-stained clothes; and they greeted it with such derisive yells, shouting, "Go away and make up something else, Fatty!" that Uncle Podger, who did not appreciate any such familiarity from strangers, did not bother to tell them that it happened to be the simple truth. This was the first day on which it became generally known that German submarines were approaching; and the certain fact caused much consternation to all, especially to those who had previously buoyed themselves with the hope that these craft could not make such a long voyage in time of war.
A very general feeling of uneasiness made itself felt.
That same day the first high-explosive to burst on "W" beach had brought everyone on deck, drawn there by the sound of its mighty thunder-clap; and sent them down again wondering whether it would be possible to hold "W" beach under such conditions much longer. The most optimistic looked grave, and even the cheery, irresponsible Navigator realized that this was not the occasion to invent yarns and send them rolling.
Discussion in the ward-room that night was carried on fitfully and in low tones, and whenever the door opened everyone would turn to see if the newcomer's face showed that he had heard anything "fresh". Among all brooded a very pervading feeling of depression. The tall, aristocratic, and also pessimistic Major of Marines explained in a low voice to the anxious little Padre, sucking nervously at his big pipe, the terrible anxieties of a General whose army has no secure base and whose lines of communication—in this special case, the sea—are threatened; the Navigator, on the other side, pointed out to the Fleet-Paymaster how impossible it would be for the battleships to stay where they were, when the submarines did put in an appearance. The cheery Fleet-Paymaster kept on saying: "But, my dear chap, we've got plenty of destroyers and trawlers; they ought to keep them away at night-time, and surely we can look after ourselves in the daylight."
The Fleet-Surgeon, more gloomy and querulous than ever, growled: "What the dickens d'you know about it? They'll come right enough. We're just like sheep waiting for the little dog that's coming across the field to worry them; they pretend they'll stick together and show a bold front, and know all the time they'll be off like redshanks directly he gets near. We're rats in a trap, that's what we are." He seemed to obtain great satisfaction from the last idea.
The Gunnery-Lieutenant, stamping nervously from one end of the ward-room to the other, joined in all the conversations, and kept on bursting out with: "We must have a 'go' at that high-explosive chap to-morrow, and try and knock him out before they come;" they being, of course, the submarines.
The War Baby—that youngest thing in subalterns of Royal Marines—sprawled over the ward-room table, with his chin on his fists, anxiously listening to everybody, hoping to glean something or other which would point a way out of the difficulties and comfort him. The Commander, coming down from making certain that the ship had been darkened properly, snapped out: "I can't get those transports to 'darken ship'. The Admiral has ordered everything, big or little, not to show a single light; and there they are, many of them, showing a blaze of lights as bright as the Strand by night." He rang the bell and sent the sentry to find Mr. Orpen. Presently that young officer appeared, and was ordered "to go round every ship in that darned anchorage and make 'em put out their lights—and don't let me catch any of your boat's crew smoking alongside the ship, as they were this morning, or I'll——" But the Orphan didn't wait for the penalty to be mentioned, answered "Very good, sir," exchanged undetected winks with the War Baby, and went out again.
Everybody turned in, that night, with their thoughts full of submarines.
An hour after midnight the poor oldGoliathwas struck by three torpedoes, and sank. She had anchored only that afternoon, up beyond Sedd-el-Bahr and opposite a promontory known as "De Tott's Battery" to protect the left flank of the French army and she lay farther up the Straits and nearer to Chanak Fort—the big fort at the entrance to The Narrows—than any other ship. Beyond this fort a Turkish destroyer was known to be lying, just above The Narrows; and to prevent her making a sortie, four of our destroyers patrolled the waters between Chanak Fort and De Tott's Battery, dodging a very brilliant search-light on Chanak Fort which lighted up this area night after night.
Now the previous evening, just before sunset, a heavy and most unusual bank of fog had rolled slowly out of The Narrows, and made the night so dark that the look-outs on board the patrolling destroyers and on board theGoliathcould hardly see a cable's length in front of them. It was just the night that that Turkish destroyer would be waiting for; and when Chanak search-light was not switched on at all, and the Straits were shrouded in thick, ominous darkness, theGoliath'speople had a suspicion that "something" would happen, and kept a more ready watchfulness.
Shortly after one o'clock the "look-outs" on her bridge, and round the guns on the fore shelter-deck, sighted a dark mass on her starboard bow, and made it out to be a destroyer, drifting, stern first, with the current, towards the ship, just as our own patrolling destroyers had been accustomed to do. They used to steam towards Chanak and its search-light, stop engines, and drift back with the current which always flowed down through The Narrows, drift down until they were abreast De Tott's Battery, and then steam back again.
At first she was thought to be a British destroyer, but something roused suspicions, the "challenge" was flashed across; she flashed back, but incorrectly; and, realizing that she was an enemy, orders were given to open fire on her. Two shots blazed out, but they were too late; she let fly three torpedoes, one after the other, all of which struck "home"; and in four minutes theGoliathhad rolled over, taking down with her more than five hundred of her officers and men.
Those on deck in theAchateshad heard the muffled explosions, and seen the search-lights from the other battleships above Sedd-el-Bahr searching the surface of the water there; but not for some time did anyone know what had really happened—not until a signal flashed across to say that theGoliathhad been sunk, and to ask for steamboats to be sent to search for survivors.
The Orphan, who had only just returned from his long job of making all the obstinate transports and other ships "darken ship" properly, was immediately sent up to the scene of the catastrophe, and the Hun, with his steam pinnace, followed. They picked up and brought back one dead body and a mere handful of very much shaken men. As you know, everyone had turned in that night with "submarines on the brain"; so when Dr. Gordon went to the Fleet-Surgeon's cabin and woke him with "Get up, turn out, P.M.O., theGoliathhas been sunk, and our boats have gone for survivors!" you can imagine that the Fleet-Surgeon naturally thought that a submarine had done this, so was none too happy. "It'll be our turn next; rats in a trap! My God! I wish I'd never come to sea," he kept groaning as he slipped into his clothes, found his swimming-belt,[#] and hurried on deck.
[#] By this time the swimming-collars had been replaced by belts with greatly increased buoyancy.
The news, when it came at last, that she had been sunk by a destroyer came almost as a relief, because, in spite of the official signal to the contrary, everyone hoped, down at the back of his brain, that perhaps a mistake had been made, and that those submarines reported from Malta would turn out to be a myth.
In fact, next morning at breakfast, the Torpedo-Lieutenant was quite bright and cheery. He was a destroyer expert, and always pooh-poohed submarines as much overrated craft, so now never tired of saying "Destroyers are some good after all, you see," and seemed to take as much pride in the success of the Turkish destroyer, as if it had been an English one which had sunk a Turkish battleship.
Without a doubt, everyone admired the pluck and cunning of this destroyer and its German crew (it was known afterwards that the crew was German), however much—or little—the loss of theGoliathaffected him; and, truth to tell, it was not the loss of the ship nor of the men that affected most people, but the moral effect and the addition to the general feeling of depression and uneasiness—uneasiness which, it must be remembered, was not by any means chiefly caused by fear for the actual safety of the ships and themselves, but by the dread of what would happen to the Army when left unsupported in its very insecure position on the Peninsula, with the difficulties of supplying itself with stores and reinforcements so enormously increased. Those howitzers, too, might render the position untenable, especially as, given time, there was no reason why the Turks should not bring up more and still heavier guns.
Some of the surviving officers lived on board theAchatesfor a few days, and slept in hammocks on the half-deck, close to the China Doll. He will never forget those nights when he turned in—always nervous of submarines, and with his swimming-belt all ready round his chest, in case of need—and then had to listen to them relating their gruesome experiences before and after the old ship rolled over and they had jumped into the water. They were suffering the after effects of their shock, and could talk of nothing else all day long, and most of the night as well.
The China Doll would hear, out of the dark, coming from one of them: "You remember when that second explosion came—you were standing close to me—in the battery—the one that shot up that column of water which cut the cutter in half—you remember—it fell on old Tompkins—it was old Tompkins, wasn't it?—it crushed him—don't you remember him howling?—just for a second—and then, not answering when you sung out to him."
Another voice—a big, gruff one—would "chip in": "I'd just said to the Gunner, 'That's not one of our destroyers—look at her funnels—you mark my word—that's not one of ours'—just before we fired that first shot—it didn't hit—I swear I heard a torpedo fired—the first one—the one that hit us under the bridge—and I'm certain I heard someone sing out: 'Gut! sehr gut!'—he must have been a German—he sang it out after each torpedo hit us."
Another voice out of the darkness, from a hammock close to the China Doll, broke in with: "My word! she did topple over—I could never have believed it I was in my cabin—just had time to rush up to the gangway—the water was pouring over the coaming—couldn't stand on the quarter-deck—I don't know how I got to the rails—I dragged myself up somehow, and crawled right round her—oh, my God! the cries inside her—men who couldn't get out."
The big, gruff voice, which had stopped to listen, interrupted again: "I got out through a gun-port, crawled along the side—when she turned over the bilge keel caught me and dragged me under—I never knew how I came up again—a man close to me—swimming in the water—had his face smashed in by a plank which shot up from below—I got hold of the plank—it kept me up till theLord Nelson'spicket-boat found me."
It was not as if these disjointed remarks were made only once, but they were repeated over and over again; just as if the thoughts they expressed had been fixed so indelibly in their brains, to the exclusion of everything else, that when night and darkness came they were again so vivid that they had to be given utterance to.
The poor China Doll, with his swimming-belt round his chest, would listen, with hair on end, until he could stand it no longer; then he would jump out, and run up on deck and wait, perhaps for an hour, until they were silent. How grateful he was to wake up and see daylight coming through the gaps in the hatchway awning-cover, and to know that another night was over! A good many more were as thankful as he was.
Next day the early morning "air" reconnaissance—made by aeroplane—reported having seen five submarines travelling past Kephez Point.
"That puts the hat on it," moaned the Fleet-Surgeon when he heard of them; and everybody marvelled how they had managed to elude the scouting trawlers and destroyers. But most people felt a sense of relief that the days of waiting for their coming were now over, and that whatever was going to happen would do so soon. However, the evening "air reconnaissance" reported that these five submarines were still there, but had now turned out to be buoys which we ourselves had moored—so the grim tension was relieved for a little while.
On that day "Gallipoli Bill" burst very many high-explosive shells on "W" beach, apparently chiefly out of bravado, to express his glee at the sinking of theGoliath. Next day theAgamemnon, theSwiftsure, and the heavy batteries on shore "went" for him, but could not hit him. The "spotting" aeroplanes did their best to locate him and to direct the firing; but a dummy gun is so easily put somewhere, where it can be seen from above, and a real gun can so easily be shifted and hidden, where it cannot be seen, that quite possibly the ships and the shore batteries were never firing at the real gun. At any rate, directly they ceased fire, "Gallipoli Bill" threw half a dozen more shells along the ridge above "W" beach, and "pulled their legs" pretty thoroughly.
Things went on quietly for the next two or three days, although the howitzers did a lot of mischief on shore. Rumours came that a trawler had sighted a periscope off Imbros island, thirteen miles away, and it seemed definitely ascertained that two submarines had arrived at Smyrna.
On the 18th May theAchatesrelieved theSwiftsure, and from this date, until driven away by submarines, she became a "bombarding" ship. She once more ceased to fly a flag; the Admiral left her, taking with him his two Assistant Clerks; best of all, the devouring host of strange snotties and their steamboats also departed, and quietness and peace reigned in the gun-room. But, like Old Mother Hubbard's cupboard, the gun-room store was bare—a fact which brought bitter grief to the Pimple and the China Doll.
There was another submarine scare that night. A trawler fired two Very's lights, which meant "have sighted a hostile submarine", and things "hummed" considerably until it turned out that she had mistaken E11, on her way up the Straits, from Mudros, for an enemy submarine.
Also, during that same night the Turks commenced their desperate thirty-six-hour attack on Anzac, and for all that period an almost incessant roar of heavy guns came down wind from there. This attack ended most disastrously for the enemy, who lost more than three thousand men killed. The Honourable Mess heard afterwards many yarns of this fight—yarns of the Turks pressing through gullies against the Australian and New Zealand trenches, pouring through in dense masses, shouting "Allah! Allah!" and never ceasing that cry, because they believed that no bullet would touch them with the sacred name on their lips, and being shot down in hundreds and hundreds, until, in fact, some of the Australians, who had clambered on top of their parapets the better to shoot, refused to shoot any longer. Pressed along by the masses behind them, the front ranks could not retreat—some, throwing away their rifles, ran towards the trenches with their hands above their heads, apparently demented, shouting "Allah! Allah!"
Perhaps they thought that God would give them victory over the "infidel" with their bare hands; perhaps they wanted to surrender; but none reached those trenches. In front of one maxim alone, 380 dead were counted when at last the attacks had melted away, and the Turks had obtained an armistice to bury their dead.
Now that she was "bombarding" ship, theAchateshad the job of looking after "Gallipoli Bill", and often an aeroplane would fly up to "spot" for her whilst she tried to knock him out.
Such a day's firing would be arranged and start something like this.
Perhaps Captain Macfarlane had been ashore the afternoon before, to stretch his long legs, and on coming back to the ship would send for the Gunnery-Lieutenant. "Oh, look here, I've been ashore this afternoon. That 6-inch howitzer is bothering everyone a good deal; it dropped one near me—it may not have known I was there—but I thought it distinctly rude; the Left Flank Observation Post—I was up there this afternoon—think they have spotted him—just to the left of that single tree near the windmills—you know it—the place where those dummy field-guns used to be; how about having a try for it in the morning?"
"Yes, sir! Certainly, sir! We had better ask for an aeroplane, I suppose," the very "strict-service" Gunnery-Lieutenant would suggest.
"Certainly! Certainly! Ask them to send a specially nice one this time, perhaps a white one with blue spots would look pretty."
The Gunnery-Lieutenant, who was absolutely devoid of all sense of humour, would look up startled, only to see the Captain thoughtfully tugging at his pointed yellow beard.
"I don't think there are any like that, sir. They have tried various colours, but none are invisible. I think they have none like that, sir."
"Oh! Very well, we must just take our chance. Perhaps they will send us one with pretty red, white, and blue rings," the Captain would reply gravely, without a tremor of an eyelid; and off would go the bewildered Gunnery-Lieutenant to write out a signal "requesting permission to bombard Target 159G7", or whatever was the dot on the military map nearest to "Gallipoli Bill", and wonder whether Captain Macfarlane was going "off his head". Whilst waiting a reply from the Admiral, he might run across the Fleet-Surgeon and tell him what the Captain had said. "I suppose there's nothing the matter with him, Doc.? You don't think the strain is telling on him?"
"Nothing the matter with him! Of course not," would snap Dr. O'Neill. "It's yourself, you fool; your silly noddle's so stuffed with wretched gunnery, you haven't room for a joke. He was pulling your leg."
"But where's the joke about 'white with blue spots'—I've never seen one like that?" and the Gunnery-Lieutenant would scratch his head.
"Oh! get out of it; you're hopeless!" Dr. O'Neill would growl.
Presently the signal would come that the proposed bombarding had been approved by the Admiral, who would make arrangements for a "spotting" aeroplane at ten o'clock.
Thus were details fixed for another attempt to destroy "Bill".
In the morning the Gunnery-Lieutenant waited to see how the current, or the breeze, or both together, made the ship swing. Perhaps that especial morning she swung with her stern inshore, so that "X" group of 6-inch guns—the group on the starboard side, aft—bore most easily. So, after breakfast, the Gunnery-Lieutenant sent for the War Baby—in charge of these guns—and showed him the exact spot on the map and, taking him up into the main-top, the special tree close to which "Bill" had last been seen—the tree on which he had to train his guns.
The aeroplane with its pilot, the "observer" and his wireless apparatus, started away from the "advanced" aerodrome near Helles lighthouse, commenced to climb up into the "blue", and, when ready, signalled "Ready to Commence".
By this time the Gunnery-Lieutenant in the fore-top, the Captain on the bridge, the War Baby in the sighting hood of X1, and the guns' crews in X1 and X2 beneath it, just abaft the gun-room, were all ready and waiting. "Ranging shot at eight—five—o—o, common shell," the Gunnery-Lieutenant sang down through his voice-pipe; and watched, as X1 fired, away along to the right of Krithia, between the last of the windmills and that single tree, where he hoped that the aeroplane could see "Bill", although he could not do so himself. Up went the cloud-burst, and in perhaps fifty seconds the voice-pipe from the "wireless" room called "Short 200"—the signal that had just come from the aeroplane.
Frequently, on these occasions, the enemy "wireless" stations would "block" the "wireless" signals from the aeroplane, or make "spotting" signals of their own, to confuse the annoyed Gunnery-Lieutenant. Always if the aeroplane ventured too near "Bill", the Turks burst shrapnel round her.
Sights were corrected, and another shot fired; out of the "blue" came the signal "Right, one hundred and fifty yards". That meant altering the training or, if the gun was kept on that single tree all the time, altering the deflection scale on the sight.
And so, for perhaps twenty rounds, firing went on. "Bill", wherever he was, had never spoken a word; the aeroplane signalled "O.K.", the interpretation of which being that, as far as she could see, the last shell had made a direct hit; and presently the Gunnery-Lieutenant, who generally had the idea that the aeroplane "spotter" didn't know his left hand from his right, or "overs" from "shorts", and also was as blind as any bat, thought it was about time to finish, and would climb down and ask the Captain if he should "pack-up".
The War Baby's guns' crews were then ordered to secure and "sponge out" their guns, and a searchlight signal was made to the aeroplane that the firing was finished. Down she would circle to her aerodrome, and if she had anything exciting to tell, would signal it across from the Naval Signal Station close at hand.
After such a proceeding it often happened that, almost before the aeroplane had come down to land, "Bill" would plump three or four high-explosive shells on "W" beach or in the soldiers' "rest" camp. He was a facetious fellow, very wanting in tact, and most elusive.
To understand the difficulties of hitting him, you must try and imagine yourself on the deck of an ordinary steamer, standing somewhere about twenty feet above the level of the water. The distance of the sea horizon is then just a little over five miles. If you now imagine that, instead of a continuous, uninterrupted curved line, the curve of the horizon is broken up by small gullies and ravines and depressions, in any one of which "Gallipoli Bill" may be concealed—in fact,isabsolutely hidden from you—and all you know is that he is supposed to be in line with, perhaps, a particular tree which you can see; that up above, there is an aeroplane quite possibly "spotting" on a dummy gun, and that only a direct hit will destroy "Bill", you obtain a good idea of the difficulties of hitting him from where you are—standing in your steamer.
One day, in order to reduce the range, theAchatesanchored in another billet, off "X" beach, farther along the "outside" coast of the Peninsula, and had hardly dropped her anchor before a cheeky battery of 4.1-inch guns began dropping their shells all round her. It was impossible to locate the battery, and there was no option but to shove off again, out of range. Again, you must bear in mind that the flashes these guns make when fired are very slight, and quite momentary, also that dummy flashes were also fired some distance away. The only sure proof that the actual position of the firing gun had been located was by observing the cloud of dust blown up from the ground in front of the gun. The size and density of this depends naturally upon the kind of ground, and also, of course, a position behind ground thickly covered with bushes is generally chosen to reduce the dust to a minimum; so that, at a range of five miles, what dust is thrown up is very, very seldom visible.
In the course of the campaign many of the Turks' guns were knocked out by the ships; but every shell must fall somewhere, and if you fire a sufficient number, sooner or later a lucky one may do the "trick" and fall on the exact spot required.
But a ship's magazines are not inexhaustible; with very little effort she could empty them in an hour, and be as useless as a Thames barge until they were refilled. If there had been an inexhaustible supply in the ammunition ships at Mudros, and if a ship had made full use of it, she would have worn out her guns in next to no time; accurate firing would be impossible, and the ship again practically useless.
Knowing all these things, you should now be able to realize the extraordinary difficulties of hitting a single gun from ships at those necessarily long ranges, and be able to understand their comparative failure to do so.
To return to the submarines. It was on a Saturday, the 22nd May, that the first German submarine actually made its appearance off the Peninsula. Just as the Honourable Mess had finished their meagre lunch, a signalman brought the Sub a signal, just received from theTriumph, at anchor off Anzac. The Sub read it aloud: "Hostile submarine sighted N.E. of Gaba Tepe".
"Well, it's a good thing to get the show over," the Sub said; and Uncle Podger remarked that "At any rate it will be pretty to watch." They all went on deck; and the sight of a long line of transports, store ships, and hospital ships hurrying across from Anzac to the little protected harbour of Kephalo, in the island of Imbros, made it certain that they evidently did not doubt that a submarine had been seen.
"They're in earnest, at any rate; there's a pretty picture for you," said Uncle Podger as he watched them, the smoke simply pouring out of their funnels as they made haste to get out of danger. All ships round Cape Helles—some forty or fifty ships of all kinds—were ordered to raise steam, and theAchates, shortening in her cable, waited for whatever would turn up. Close to her lay theSwiftsure; and both had to rely for protection on the keenness of their "look-outs" and the quickness of their guns' crews, because neither ship had torpedo-nets—theAchatesnever possessed any; theSwiftsure'swere lying in a store-house in Bombay Dockyard, where she had left them a year before war broke out.
Everyone felt sure that "something" would happen shortly, and actually experienced a sense of relief to at last be faced with the danger which had so long threatened. Very many took good care—very good care—to secure their swimming-belts under their tunics, in readiness to blow them up should the necessity arise.
It was a glorious day, with a very slight "ruffle" on the sea; and, as Uncle Podger told the nervous China Doll: "My dear chap, you couldn't want a better day for a swim."
At half-past one thePrince George, in a new coat of paint, steamed under theAchates'stern. She had returned from a twenty-four-hours "spell" up the Straits, looking after the Asiatic howitzers, and as she turned slowly into position, to anchor, she suddenly began to blaze away with her small guns, for'ard, and went full speed ahead. At the same moment the cruiserTalbot, about a mile away, hoisted the signal "hostile submarine in sight", and fired a blank charge to draw attention to it. "Close water-tight doors" was piped along the decks; the crew dashed down below; and the China Doll, trembling with excitement, made his way for'ard, and saw the splashes of thePrince George'sshells following and bursting all round what looked like the swirl and heave of water which a big fish would make when swimming just below the surface. One of the gun's crews near him shouted that he saw a periscope; another, an obvious liar, swore that he could see the tail rudders.
Two destroyers came dashing down—a smother of black smoke and white foam—dashing right in among the shell splashes—or so it seemed to the nervous Assistant Clerk—and then began scurrying round and round in circles, seeking something to pounce upon.
But the submarine had dived, and, whatever her skipper's intentions were, she never showed herself again that day.
ThePrince Georgecame solemnly back and let go her anchor, like some half-worn-out old watch-dog who had gone barking round to drive off intruders and then returned to his kennel door; whilst theSwiftsurestarted off to join the destroyers in their search.
But then commenced a most extraordinary exodus of shipping from Cape Helles. Transports and store ships hove up their anchors and started off on their sixty-mile journey to Mudros to seek safety behind the submarine net across the entrance. TheAchatesreceived orders to proceed there too, and, you may be sure, was not long getting under way, steaming on a straight course until a signal came from the Admiral, "Achateszigzag". The sea from Cape Helles was one long line of hurrying steamers. Two big "crack" French liners, theFranceandLa Provence, the first of which had only arrived that morning, and had not yet begun to disembark the four thousand troops on board, lingered at anchor for nearly an hour. They were such huge ships, and were such tempting submarine targets, that everyone wondered why they delayed. Presently, however, they joined in the race for safety, and catching up theAchates, steamed past her as though she had been at anchor.
Was not the China Doll, and many more, too, aboard her, delighted when theAchatesslipped through the "gate" in that submarine net!
That night theAlbionandCanopus, off Anzac, remained under way, for safety. During the night theAlbion"took" the ground off Gaba Tepe, and, not being able to get off, was exposed to a very heavy fire at daybreak from howitzers, field-batteries, and also from the 12-inch guns of a Turkish ironclad, somewhere above The Narrows, and firing across the land. Fortunately, this fire was as inaccurate as it was heavy; but the situation was most dangerous and unpleasant until theCanopuscame along, in the thick of the shells, laid out some hawsers to her, and at the second attempt towed her clear, with a total loss of only one man killed and nine wounded.
The next two days passed quietly; no submarines were seen or heard of, until on the second morning, at half-past eight, a periscope was suddenly observed passing along between theSwiftsureandAgamemnon, at anchor off Cape Helles not six hundred yards from each other. Fire was opened immediately, and down dipped the periscope, to appear again just ahead and on theSwiftsure'sstarboard bow. TheSwiftsure's14-pounders blazed away, under went the periscope and did not appear again.
It is a mystery why she did not fire a torpedo; presumably she had no time to get into position to make a good shot. A signal sent to the ships off Gaba Tepe and Anzac warned them; but just before half-past twelve theTriumphthere was struck by two torpedoes. The news that she had a list brought all theSwiftsure'sofficers and men on deck. Sure enough, they could see her through telescopes listing heavily, and two destroyers standing by. In twenty minutes the red composition on her bottom showed above the water; she rapidly fell over, remained bottom upwards for some eight minutes, and then disappeared. Fortunately, very few of her crew were lost.
Another exodus of ships followed, and only the poor oldMajesticand theHenri IV, that quaint old Frenchman—with the Captain who feared neither mine nor torpedo—remained off the Peninsula. Three days' grace theMajesticreceived, and then she too met her fate, a submarine creeping up, with her periscope just showing, and firing two torpedoes at her through a gap between two small store ships. At 6.45 a.m. on Friday, 28th May, the poor old ship received her death-blows, and seven and a half minutes later capsized. For months her ram just appeared above the water off "W" beach, until the autumn gales made her settle farther down and mercifully hid her from sight.
It is not surprising that the general feeling of uncertainty and uneasiness due to the approach or German submarines should, now that they had arrived, sunk two big ships, and driven the others away, give place to one of foreboding and depression.
The army, which had landed with such proud hopes of opening the gates of The Narrows for the fleet to pass through, had fought itself to a standstill at Helles and Anzac; its supply beaches were constantly under shell-fire, and even the "rest" camps daily gave up their toll of dead and wounded from shells shrapnel or high-explosive.
The big ships could not use the narrow waters with freedom or safety; and if one, two, three, or five submarines, whatever their number was at this time, had already made the long voyage from Germany, ten, fifteen, or twenty might follow; and even if the big ships forced their way to Constantinople, these submarines could make it impossible for them to stay there.
Everyone wondered what would be the next move—what would happen next.
There were two bright patches of cheerful sky between the dark clouds: our own submarines, working with unparalleled daring and skill, passed up and down The Narrows, through the nets laid across to catch them, almost at their ease, and prevented the Turks from using the Sea of Marmora to bring up troops or stores; the Commander-in-Chief himself remained optimistic, in spite of all.
Dr. O'Neill, meeting Captain Macfarlane, who had just returned from the yachtTriad, which now flew the Commander-in-Chief's flag, asked him: "How about the Admiral, sir? I suppose he is even more depressed than we are?"
"Not a bit of it," Captain Macfarlane told him. "He is quite cheery; he has a lot 'up his sleeve' yet."
From now onwards, the battleships remained behind the nets at Mudros or Kephalo. From these, every now and again, one or other of them would dash out with escorts of destroyers; an aeroplane would circle overhead to 'spot' for her; and she would bombard the Asiatic guns, Achi Baba, Sari Bair, above Anzac, or the Olive Grove, near Gaba Tepe, where the Turks always had several guns. Having done as much damage as possible, back she would steam, zigzagging all the way into safety.
And from this time all stores, ammunition, and reinforcements were carried across to the Peninsula at night in trawlers, small coasting steamers, and what were termed "fleet sweepers"; these being small steamers, of a thousand to fifteen hundred tons, which had—most of them, at any rate—previous to the war, been employed in the passenger and freight traffic on the cross-Channel, Irish, or Channel Island services.
Splendidly did they carry out their work—very frequently under fire.