Not a sound came from the lips of the crew. Holding on to what came nearest to hand, they steadied themselves until the submerged craft ceased her violent motion. To add to the horror of the situation, the concussion had broken most of the electric lamps, and practically the whole of the interior of the submarine was plunged into darkness, save for the fitful sparking of the electric motors.
Yet there was no irresistible inrush of the sea. Somewhere aft could be distinguished the hiss of water as a thin stream forced its way through a strained seam.
"She's stood it, lads!" exclaimed the Lieutenant-Commander cheerily.
Producing an electric torch from his pocket the skipper flashed it on the depth gauge. The indicator registered seventy feet, and the vessel was still descending.
"Stop both engines!" he ordered. "Blow auxiliary tanks!"
Slowly the downward movement ceased, and upon regaining a depth of sixty feet the order was given to "stand by".
"Starboard horizontal rudder has jibbed, sir," announced one of the crew.
"Bow diving-planes all right?" asked Huxtable.
"I think so, sir."
"Very good. Hello! There's the fun about to commence."
The remark was caused by the muffled sounds of bursting shell. The Turks, alarmed by the explosion, had opened a frantic fire upon the spot where the column of water, hurled high in the air by the detonation, had subsided.
"Let them waste their precious ammunition!" remarked the Lieutenant-Commander grimly. "We're as safe as houses here."
"Except that we haven't a back door," thought Dick, whose views upon the subject of mine-dodging had undergone a sudden and complete change.
Meanwhile one of the engine-room artificers had been busily engaged in fitting new lamps. Fortunately, none of the electric wiring had been damaged, and in a short space of time the interior of the submarine was once more flooded with light.
Already the leak had been stopped, while examination showed that no serious damage had been done to the plating or framework.
"Can't understand how a mine was submerged to that depth," remarked Devereux, the Acting Sub-lieutenant of the submarine, to Dick, "unless it had become partially water-logged. We must have hit it fair and square. The skipper's patent gadget saved us."
"It won't do so again—at least, on the port side," said Dick. "I guess it's blown to blazes."
"Well, we'll see presently," rejoined Devereux. "When the Turks have finished this rumpus and we're a little farther on our weary way, we're going to ascend for a breather. It may be the last chance for a couple of days or so."
An hour later, having penetrated well into the Sea of Marmora, the skipper gave orders for the vessel to be brought awash. It wanted one hour and forty-five minutes to sunrise, so that in order to take advantage of the dark, the breathing-space had to be limited to three-quarters of an hour—unless suddenly curtailed by the approach of any hostile craft.
The crew assembled on deck in watches, every man drinking in the pure night air—not that the atmosphere 'tween decks was impure, for, thanks to the chemical processes to safeguard the crew, the air was wholesome and capable of being endured without discomfort for days, should occasion arise. Nevertheless the gallant and daring men lost no chance of getting into the open air: for one reason, it economized the oxygen purifiers; for another, the men never knew when a similar chance might occur again.
While the submarine was running on the surface, thereby saving the dynamos, since she was being propelled by the petrol engines, opportunity was taken to examine the damage caused by the explosion of the mine.
It was found that one of the fore-and-aft girders had been shattered for a length of nearly fifteen feet, and some of the connecting braces and struts had been twisted and buckled. In addition, one of the horizontal rudders had been bent almost to a semicircle, a fact that accounted for the submarine's failure to maintain a given depth without use of the auxiliary ballast.
"Your device saved us, sir," remarked Crosthwaite. "Close contact with that mine would have pulverized the plating."
"Yes, it has," assented Huxtable. "But unfortunately it wouldn't serve its purpose a second time if we found a mine in the same spot. More than that, the shattered girder is an encumbrance. Instead of warding off the mooring wire of an anchored mine, that jagged projection would foul it, for a moral cert. It will have to come off while we've a chance. We must also unship the damaged rudder and do our best to bend it straight again. If we cannot, it would be better to do without it, and rely upon the port horizontal rudder and the two bow diving-planes."
"Will it interfere with the manoeuvring of the vessel?" asked Dick.
"Certainly, but only to a certain extent. We won't be able to dive so promptly, but that is all. Needless to say I would rather get the thing ship-shape, if it can be done."
While the artificers were busily engaged in cutting away the after portion of the damaged girder, and rounding off the broken part that terminated nearly abaft the after quick-firing gun, others of the crew rigged up a pair of sheerlegs and proceeded to unship the injured rudder, the engines being stopped and the submarine trimmed by its head to enable this to be done.
It was soon evident that the men at their disposal were not sufficient to straighten out the buckled plate. It was a job which would have to be undertaken at Malta Dockyard, should the submarine have the good fortune to return from her hazardous mission.
"Hard lines!" muttered Huxtable. Then aloud he exclaimed: "Pass the thing below, lads; what can't be cured must be endured."
The useless rudder was lowered through the torpedo hatch, all lights below being switched off during the operation, lest a stray beam should reveal the presence of the British craft to an alert hostile ship or battery.
Presently one of the artificers appeared and saluted the Lieutenant-Commander.
"Is that you, Parsons?" asked the latter, for in the gloom he was unable to distinguish the petty officer's features.
"Yes, sir," replied the artificer. "I'd like to make a suggestion, sir, about that damaged rudder."
"Carry on, then."
"We've a piece of steel plating in the engine-room—a part of the floor over the lubricating-oil tanks. It's just about the size of the rudder—a question of a few inches either way at the very outside. I thought we might perhaps drill it, and use the braces that came off the old rudder."
"How long will it take you?" asked the skipper.
"A matter of twenty minutes to drill the holes, sir, and say another twenty to ship the thing and connect up the rods."
"Good—carry on!" said Huxtable encouragingly.
The artificer hurried below, and, assisted by willing hands, proceeded with the self-imposed task. The work had to be done as silently as possible, lest the noise, travelling far on the quiet night air, should betray their presence.
"Capital man that!" remarked the Lieutenant-Commander to Dick. "I wouldn't mind betting a month's pay that he'll turn out the complete job before the elapse of the time he mentioned. Otherwise I wouldn't care to let him tackle it, for it will be dawn very soon. Fortunately, it looks a bit misty. I shouldn't be surprised if we have a thick haze when the sun rises, in which case we can afford to keep on the surface a little longer."
His prognostics were correct, for with the first blush of dawn a low-lying layer of vapour began to roll across the surface of the sea. The submarine, rendered invisible even at a short distance, was fairly safe from surprise, since the sound-conducting properties of moisture-laden atmosphere would enable her crew to detect the approach of another vessel by the thud of her engines long before she came within observation.
"May as well enjoy a smoke, Crosthwaite," remarked Huxtable, producing a cigarette-case. "It's a good chance, since it's too light for the glimmer of a cigarette to be detected, even if there were no mists hanging about. Mr. Devereux, you might pass the word for the hands on deck to smoke."
Gladly the thoughtful concession on the part of the skipper was acted upon. The men, producing pipes and cigarettes, fully appreciated the order, since smoking and the use of matches were rigidly forbidden down below, owing to the danger of petrol fumes.
Presently the sun rose above the hills on the Asiatic shore, shedding streaks of crimson across the eastern sky. Athwart the rays wisps of ragged clouds and "wind-galls" betokened rough weather at no distant date.
"I hear we're having a shot at Constantinople, sir," remarked Farnworth to Dick. "Mr. Devereux has been telling me that we're also going to have a look at Scutari. Won't the Turks have a surprise!"
"Naturally," replied Dick. "And we've a lot in our favour. They'll take it for granted that a Russian submarine has been operating from the Black Sea, and consequently they will devote all their energies to preventing her return through the Bosphorus. That will give us a rattling good chance to get back without being detected. By the by, how are you feeling—fit?"
"Spiffing!" replied the midshipman. "I really must have a shot for the submarine branch after this. The only thing I feel I want to do is to stretch my legs."
"I should have thought you had enough of that when we tramped over the hills from Medjidieh," remarked the Sub.
"That's just it—too much at one time and not enough the next. The result is that I'm as stiff as blazes for want of homeopathic treatment."
The midshipman, who, like his brother officer, had taken an early opportunity to discard his captured German uniform, was arrayed in a pair of trousers belonging to Devereux—which fitted only where they touched—and a sweater. Yet, strangely enough, the cap lent him by the Acting Sub of the submarine was much too small for him, owing to the fact that his head had not regained its normal size after the blow he had received on the occasion of the "little scrap" in Yenikeui Bay.
With some minutes to the good, Parsons re-appeared on deck and reported that the rudder was ready to be shipped. With the aid of half a dozen seamen, the metal plate was whipped on deck and taken aft. Here, by dint of working up to their knees in water, the artificers succeeded in bolting it in position, and the preliminary trial of the actuating rods gave promise of success.
"Excellent, Parsons!" declared the Lieutenant-Commander warmly. "I'll take advantage of the first opportunity and report to the Admiral upon your zeal and ingenuity."
Ordering the hands to their stations, Huxtable brought the craft awash and had the motors re-started. At a modest five knots, since speed was no object, the submarine resumed her course. Huxtable's plan was to submerge as soon as Prince's Island—one of a group about ten or twelve miles to the south-east of the Ottoman capital—came in sight, and remain on the bed of the sea until daybreak on the following day. Then, taking advantage of the early light, he would approach, with the periscope frequently showing, until he "spotted" his prey—which he hoped would be the recreant German battle-cruiserGoeben, or, failing that, theBreslau.
About mid-day Prince's Island hove in sight. The submarine, having taken her bearings, dived to avoid a fleet of feluccas evidently engaged in fishing; for only upon the supposedly impregnable Sea of Marmora did the Turkish fishermen—all of them too old to be called upon to serve in the Ottoman navy—dare to ply their business. The fear of Russian destroyers had long before swept the Black Sea clear of all Turkish merchantmen and small craft.
"May as well have a look round before we dive," declared Huxtable, as the submarine reached her desired temporary resting-place. "The sun's right behind us, and the glare will effectually prevent anyone on shore from spotting our periscope. I'm rather curious to know what that square tower is, and whether it is armed."
Two hundred yards only from the lurking submarine the shore rose with comparative steepness from the sea. According to the chart there was a depth of eight fathoms up to within twenty yards of the south side of the island, and owing to a faint southerly current, caused by the discharge of the pent-up waters of the Bosphorus into the wide expanse of the Sea of Marmora, the water in the vicinity of the group of islands was thick, and tinged with a sandy deposit, rendering it well adapted for purposes of submarine concealment.
Dead ahead was a small creek, on the eastern side of which was an old stone tower, about thirty feet in height and capped by a loopholed parapet. On this flew the Ottoman Crescent, while the sun glinted upon the bayonet of a befezzed sentry as he leisurely paced the ground in front of the low gateway. At the water's edge below the tower was a rough wooden pier of less than twenty yards in length. It was in a very decrepit condition, for several of the piles were raking at alarming angles, while the single handrail in several places had broken away from its supports.
Even as the officers of the submarine kept the tower and its vicinity under observation the sentry began to show signs of alacrity. He shouted something—although no sound reached the confined space of the submerged vessel—and pointed sea-wards. Instantly Huxtable grasped the wheel of the diving gear, at the same time ordering the men to "stand by".
But it was not on account of the submarine that the Turkish sentry gave the alarm, for other soldiers, to the number of about a dozen, appeared and pointed seawards, but not in the direction of the lurking craft. One of them entered the tower, and presently hoisted a signal from the stumpy flagstaff.
Training the periscope astern, the Lieutenant-Commander discovered the reason for the excitement ashore. A small paddle-steamer was approaching from the direction of the Bosphorus.
"A representative of the Ottoman navy," said Huxtable with a laugh. "Etiquette demands that we should not intrude, so we'll make ourselves scarce."
Quickly, yet with hardly a swirl to denote her position, the submarine sank to the bed of the Sea of Marmora. Ten minutes later the dull thud of the steamer's paddles announced the fact that she was passing almost over her unsuspected enemy.
"We'll have another squint at her," decided the skipper. "It will be fairly safe to do so, since the Turks will be fully occupied with the visit of the vessel."
As soon as the periscope showed a foot above the water the Lieutenant-Commander took a lengthy survey. Then he turned to Crosthwaite, who was the only other officer standing by the bowl of the periscope.
"What do you make of that?" he asked.
Dick looked. The steamer was now berthed at the head of the pier, on which stood a Turkish lieutenant and the file of sun-helmeted soldiers, all with rifles and fixed bayonets. Passing up the gangway were several men dressed in naval uniforms, while at their heels came more Ottoman soldiers.
"Our men!" exclaimed Dick.
"I think so, too," replied Huxtable, "but I am not absolutely certain. They are prisoners, that is quite evident."
The distance was too great to enable either of the two officers to distinguish details, but the captives were not Frenchmen: the absence of the red tuft on their caps told that. They might be Russians, but it was impossible to see whether they wore the blue-and-white jerseys that would in that case take the place of the flannel "pneumonia catchers" worn by the British bluejacket. All the men wore beards, but, as Dick knew by personal experience, that might be owing to being held in captivity for several weeks without facilities for shaving.
As soon as the prisoners were ashore a Turkish officer came off the steamer and engaged in conversation with the lieutenant in charge of the little garrison. A document, apparently a list of the prisoners, changed hands, and the two officers parted, the former returning on board, while the lieutenant leisurely followed the men who were escorting the prisoners towards the tower.
The steamer showed no signs of casting off. She strongly resembled the old Thames paddle-wheelers of thirty years or more ago; but a couple of Krupp quick-firers were mounted behind light steel shields—one for'ard, the other aft. As she rolled sluggishly in the slight swell it could be seen that the vessel's hull below the water-line was thickly covered with weeds.
"A study in contrasts, sir," observed Dick. "Quick-firers and wireless installation on board a ramshackle paddle-wheeler."
"M'yes," admitted Huxtable automatically, for his attention was centred upon the progress of the little band of captives.
Closely guarded, they were marched into the tower. Only five soldiers went with them; the rest, having piled arms, either strolled back to the pier or else made for a long, low building that served as a barracks.
Once more the submarine descended, for the steamer began to show signs of activity. The rhythmic beats of her paddles as she passed overhead gave Huxtable an inspiration.
"I'll follow her, by Jove!" he exclaimed. "Ten to one she's going back to Constantinople. It's too good a chance to lose!"
The Lieutenant-Commander's decision was a sound one. By following the slowly-moving Turkish steamer, maintaining her distance solely by the noise of the latter's paddles, the submarine could keep entirely submerged and yet be led towards a recognized anchorage in the Ottoman navy. It only remained to be seen whether the steamer was making for Constantinople or not. In any case the submarine would be miles nearer her destination by nightfall; but, if the Turkish vessel were bound for the Golden Horn, Huxtable meant to attack at the first opportunity, without waiting for dawn, and trust to the ensuing confusion following the complete surprise to effect his escape.
Twenty minutes elapsed. Huxtable's face began to grow long, for the compass course showed that the submarine was being led in a direction S.S.E. Was it possible, he asked himself, that the wretched little paddle-boat was making for Nagara or some of the other Dardanelles forts?
"I'll hang on for another ten minutes," he declared. "Then, if the steamer still persists in going in the opposite direction to the one I wish, I'll decline to have any more truck with her."
"She's turning," exclaimed Dick. "She's ported her helm."
"Good!" ejaculated the Lieutenant-Commander, as the submarine swung round till her bow pointed due north. "Now that is much more reasonable."
During the next hour the steamer zigzagged considerably. It was safe to conclude that she was threading her way through the intricate minefield that guarded the southern outlet of the Bosphorus.
A long-drawn-out wail upon the syren of the Turkish vessel, followed by four shrill blasts, announced that she was approaching her anchorage. Dearly would Huxtable have liked to bring the periscope of his craft to the surface, but he resolutely resisted the temptation.
The unwitting pilot was slowing down; it was time for the submarine to "part company", for the water was shoaling considerably. To follow the steamer farther would result in the British craft being exposed to the danger of being rammed by passing vessels, since the needle of the depth-indicator was already hovering around thirty-five feet.
"I might have guessed that she would not be likely to bring up in deep water," remarked the Lieutenant-Commander to Dick, referring to the steamer, the paddle-beats of which were growing fainter and fainter. "It was a chance, of course, but it didn't exactly come off."
"At any rate she piloted us in very nicely," said Crosthwaite.
"If we are in the Golden Horn, yes," admitted Huxtable. "But are we? All we can do is to wait until just after sunset, and then take a quick look round. The place seems too jolly quiet for Constantinople. I haven't heard the thud of an engine since we dropped the steamer, or the steamer dropped us—whichever way you like to take it."
In order to make doubly certain that there was no maritime traffic in the vicinity, the Lieutenant-Commander enjoined silence for the space of five minutes. With his ear against the concave side of the submarine's hull he waited and listened intently. Not a sound was to be heard, for already the British craft's motors had been switched off, and she was now lying motionless in ten fathoms on the bed of the sea.
Slowly the hours passed until the time of sunset drew near, then once more the crew were called to their stations. As coolly as if engaged in evolutions in the piping times of peace the Lieutenant-Commander gave his orders.
"Charge firing-tank; flood torpedo-tubes; stand by."
The men at the torpedo-tubes obeyed with alacrity, yet wonderingly, for the sanguineness of their young skipper in ordering the torpedoes to be placed in the tubes before he was even certain that an enemy was in sight puzzled them.
Moving very slowly ahead, the submarine rose till her periscope just showed above the surface. Even Huxtable in his most optimistic mood did not expect the sight which met his gaze as he looked at the dazzling object-bowl of the periscope. There, clearly depicted, was a large cruiser flying the Turkish flag. She was within two hundred yards of the submarine, and at about a like distance from the northern shore of a broad creek. The cruiser was not in a position of defence. Her sun awnings were still rigged, her torpedo-nets not out; even her fo'c'sle and quarter-deck guns were trained fore and aft, and still had their tompions in the muzzles. Nor were there any signs that she had steam up.
"All clear, sir!" reported Sub-lieutenant Devereux, who, stationed at the supplementary periscope, had swept the limited horizon to certain that no hostile destroyer or patrol-boat in the vicinity.
"Both tubes—fire!" ordered the Lieutenant-Commander.
He made no attempt to dive as the two missiles left their tubes. He had sufficient reason to believe that the Turks would be too panic-stricken to attempt to fire at their assailant.
To his satisfaction he noted, as he watched the diverging white line of foam that marked the of the torpedoes, that both weapons were heading straight for the mark with a velocity almost approaching that of an express train.
A Turkish seaman on the fo'c'sle, gazing idly at the water, was the first of the crew of the warship to notice the impending danger. Even then he did not realize the situation, for the possibility of a torpedo fired from a submarine in strongly-guarded waters never occurred to him until the missiles were almost home.
He gave the alarm. The apathetic officers and seamen did nothing, for it would have been useless to attempt to ward off the blow; but in sheer panic they rushed to the side farthest from the approach of danger.
Both torpedoes struck almost simultaneously and within thirty feet of each other. The cruiser reeled as a double column of water was hurled into the air to a height of nearly two hundred feet. Almost before the artificial waterspout had subsided the ship was settling rapidly by the stern.
Even then Huxtable made no attempt to dive. He was content to keep the periscope above the level of the sea and to watch the disappearance of the stricken vessel.
Not a shot was fired from the cruiser. The whole energies of officers and crew were diverted towards their own safety. Panic prevailed, for in their mad rush to launch the remaining boats men fought each other, their shouts of anger and shrieks of despair outvying the hiss of the escaping air from the confined spaces of the sinking ship. Others, without being given orders, leapt overboard and swam for the shore, till the intervening stretch of water was dotted with the heads of the terrified swimmers.
"What a contrast to the sinking of theOcean!" thought Dick. "Here they are in fairly shallow water and within easy distance from land, and yet they must fight each other like brutes."
"Destroyers and patrol-boats approaching, sir," reported Devereux, who was still sweeping the limited expanse of view through the after-periscope.
"Very good," replied the Lieutenant-Commander. Then turning to Dick he added: "I'm jolly glad. We'll have a run for our money, for, hang it! though war is war, one cannot help feeling just a little sorry to have to sneak up and torpedo an unsuspecting craft."
"She would have sent us to the bottom without the faintest compunction if she had had the ghost of a chance, sir," replied Dick. "I don't think we need have anything upon our consciences."
"Well, we'll have to be moving," remarked Huxtable, who was taking a leisurely survey of his surroundings.
The cruiser had now sunk. Only the tops of her funnels and her masts were visible. She had been lying at anchor in a fairly broad and widening channel, the shores of which on both sides were dotted with picturesque kiosks, half hidden in clusters of cypress and olive trees. Beyond the visible relics of the torpedoed ship and the still distant Turkish patrol-craft, there was nothing to denote the presence of war conditions.
"By Jove!" exclaimed Huxtable. "We're miles up the Golden Horn. Those are the houses of Pera we can see in the distance. That paddle-steamer must have piloted us through the bridge of boats between the capital and Galata. Crosthwaite, my boy, we've beaten all records—and we've got to get back."
He gave the order to dive. Before the periscope had time to disappear a column of spray dashed up within twenty yards, as a shell from the nearest destroyer ricochetted and plunged with disastrous results into an elegant summer resort on the bank of the Golden Horn.
Gently feeling her way, lest any large disturbance of the water should betray her position, the submarine made for the Bosphorus; but before she had covered a quarter of a mile she grounded on a bed of slimy mud.
Promptly the Lieutenant-Commander ordered the motors to be switched off. Any attempt to forge ahead would only succeed in churning up vast quantities of mud by the propellers. All that could be done for the time being was to lie low.
The thud of machinery announced to the crew that the Ottoman destroyers were cruising over their hiding-place, while muffled detonations at frequent intervals told them that the Turks were making use of explosive grapnels in the hope of locating and shattering the hull of the British submarine.
"That's a close one!" muttered Dick, as a sharp detonation resulted in nothing worse than making the submarine roll sluggishly on the mud. It was too close to be pleasant, for, although the water was thick with sediment and effectually precluded daylight from filtering through the observation scuttles, the explosion threw a short blinding flash into the interior of the conning-tower.
It was a time of acute peril and mental strain. At any moment one of the submerged charges of gun-cotton might be exploded actually in contact with the steel hull, the crew of which were helpless to raise even a finger in self-defence. But the expected did not happen. Apparently satisfied with the result of their operations, the Turkish destroyers and patrol-boats steamed off, and quietude reigned once more on and under the waters of the Golden Horn.
Huxtable was too wily a strategist to move prematurely. It was practically impossible to creep out of the tortuous channel while the submarine was completely submerged. The suspicions of the Turks being aroused, it was equally hazardous to show even a momentary glimpse of the periscope during the hours of daylight. He resolved to lieperduuntil nightfall, and then to follow the first steamer that was making for the Bosphorus.
"Let's hope that a deep-draughted craft won't be coming down," he remarked. "There's less than twenty-four feet between the protection girder and the surface. This is one of the occasions when my device has obvious drawbacks."
"It won't hurt us if the steelwork is hit by a vessel's keel, sir," said Devereux.
"I don't know so much about that," objected the Lieutenant-Commander. "The sudden wrench might start some of our plates. In any case the ramming craft would stop to investigate."
"Unless she fancied that she'd fouled some of the wreckage of the cruiser we sank," said Dick.
"Let's hope the Turks will have no necessity to exercise their powers of discernment," said Huxtable. "In any case I want to do a little more damage before we're out of action. But," he added cheerfully, "I have a presentiment that we'll fetch back in safety."
Several hours passed in tedious suspense. Numerous steam vessels sped overhead or within hearing distance, for the thud, thud of their engines and the noise of the revolutions of their propellers could be distinctly heard.
"You'd better turn in," suggested Huxtable to Dick. "There's nothing doing, and you must be awfully tired."
"I feel a bit sleepy," admitted Crosthwaite; "but don't you think you ought to have forty winks, sir?"
"I suppose I'd feel all the better if I did," admitted the Lieutenant-Commander. "Devereux can take charge. He's had his watch below."
Enjoining the Sub-lieutenant of the submarine to call him at the first suspicion of danger, Huxtable pulled off his boots and rolled, just as he was, into his bunk, while Dick was soon fast asleep in the bed recently occupied by young Devereux.
It seemed as if he had not dozed for more than ten minutes when Dick was awakened by the purr of the submarine's electric motors. He started up. The officer's cabin was ablaze with light. Devereux, with a bundle of charts under his arm, was making his way along the narrow gangway between the double rows of bunks.
"Hello, old man!" he exclaimed. "Awake, eh?"
"What's the time?" asked Dick drowsily.
Devereux consulted his watch.
"Twenty-three minutes past two," he announced.
"Never!" ejaculated Crosthwaite incredulously. "Surely I haven't——"
"Yes, you have," interrupted Devereux with a laugh. "Seven and three-quarter hours of solid sleep! Sorry I disturbed you."
"You didn't," declared Dick. "It was the engines."
"We're on the move again," explained his companion. "We're following a small paddle-boat. Huxtable fancies it's the one that piloted us here. He may be right—he generally is. If so, it's a rare slice of luck. Look at young Farnworth. Submarine life apparently suits him, for he's doing his level best to sleep the clock round."
Just then a bell clanged. The Lieutenant-Commander's voice could be heard ordering the ballast tanks to be blown.
"I must be off," exclaimed Devereux. "It's action stations. Something's up."
Dick was out of his bunk in a trice, but before he gained the door he heard the order being given to charge both tubes.
The submarine was about to attack yet another victim.
Instinctively Dick Crosthwaite made his way to the conning-tower, where Lieutenant-Commander Huxtable was standing by the bowl of the periscope. The latter took no notice of his involuntary guest; his whole attention was centred upon the ill-defined patch of light that, momentarily growing brighter, showed that the submarine was on the point of rising to launch her fatal missiles.
The meaningless blurr upon the periscope bowl merged into detail, for the eye-piece was now above water. The period of exposure was but a few brief seconds, but it was sufficient to show a large Turkish transport moored alongside the Galata Quay, and in the act of shipping troops as fast as the men could pass along the gangways.
Huxtable rapped out an expression of annoyance. He had made the discovery that the submarine was in the clutches of a strong current. The chance, then, of "getting home" with a torpedo was doubly difficult, for already the British craft was well on the transport's quarter.
"Down to thirty-four; charge firing-tank; flood both torpedo-tubes; stand by!" he ordered, with hardly a break between the terse commands.
"All ready, sir," replied the leading torpedoman smartly.
For three minutes the submarine forged ahead diagonally against the current. The Lieutenant-Commander intended the range to be a short one.
"At fifteen feet. Fire!"
Barely had the torpedoes left the tubes when the submarine dived again. Swept by the current, in addition to the "easy ahead" movement of the motors, she rapidly left the scene of her latest activities, to the accompaniment of a hot fusillade. The Turkish gunners on the shore batteries were madly blazing away at every visible object of wreckage from the stricken troop-ship, while the British craft glided serenely out of the danger area.
Yet, in spite of the risk of being plugged by a shell, Huxtable felt compelled to have a look at the work of destruction. The transport was already on the bottom, with a pronounced list to starboard and away from the quayside. Hundreds of panic-stricken troops were lining her shoreward side or leaping frantically to land.
"At all events the survivors won't show up at the Dardanelles in a hurry," remarked Huxtable. "Now to save ourselves."
Down went the submarine to sixty feet, a course being shaped for the Bosphorus; but before the vessel had covered a distance of half a mile, a dull grating sound announced that she had run heavily upon a shingle bank.
Caught by the current her stern swung round, till, pinned broadside on by the rush of water, she lay rocking sluggishly on the bed of the sea. To obtain her bearings by means of the periscope would mean destruction by the powerful shore batteries. To attempt to rise to clear the bank would result in the submarine being swept into shoal water before she could answer her helm. All that could be done was to deprive her of all her available controllable buoyancy, in order to resist the pressure of the surging stream, and await the horrors of darkness.
For defensive work in her proper role the submarine was now useless. She had fired her last pair of torpedoes. On the surface she might be able to put up a fight by means of her two quick-firers, but against destroyers and shore-batteries these weapons were quite inadequate.
Night drew on. With the setting of the sun powerful search-lights swept the Golden Horn to the Bosphorus, while the now alert Turkish gunners stood by their guns, ready at the first sight of a periscope to send the Giaours to Eblis, for there was a strong suspicion that the daring British craft would still be lurking in the vicinity in order to attempt another act of destruction.
"Time, I fancy," declared Huxtable, as the hands of the clock on the wall of the conning-tower pointed to the hour of midnight. Officers and men heaved a sigh of relief. Anything seemed better than lying motionless on the bed of the channel.
It was inexpedient to start the motors. The submarine must be raised under the influence of her reserve of buoyancy until there was no chance of her propeller blades being snapped off by contact with the shoal.
The periscope showed nothing beyond a confusing display of search-lights. Huxtable took the craft up still more until her conning-tower was awash. To his surprise he found that the submarine was drifting almost across the bows of a large coal-hulk, which was moored about two hundred yards from shore. A similar type of vessel lay fifty yards from, and abreast of, the hulk. Both craft, owing to their being practically denuded of coal—a commodity of which the Turks were greatly in need—towered high out of the water. There were no signs of ship-keepers. Darkness and solitude seemed to be in sole possession.
In a flash Huxtable realized that, if he could make fast alongside one of the hulks, the submarine would be in comparative shelter from the piercing rays of the search-lights, since the second hulk would screen his craft from the direct play of their beams.
It was a desperate move, but like most desperate operations its audacity almost promised success. With a slight, almost imperceptible shock, one of the protective girders encircling the submarine engaged the mooring chain of the hulk. Round swung the submarine, and before she could slip from the embrace of the heavy chain two of her crew, emerging through the fore-hatch, deftly bent a wire hawser to one of the links, and, cautiously checking the boat's way, succeeded in bringing her alongside the coaling craft.
No hail came from this vessel. The hulk was seemingly deserted. Having no supplies on board, the Turkish authorities did not see the necessity of keeping watchmen there, or else the ship-keepers had taken a chance of going ashore.
Huxtable's command was not a second too soon in bringing up alongside, for a search-light playing full upon the hulk silhouetted her outlines and threw a deep shadow athwart the submarine.
Lying at full length upon the wet deck, the two seamen awaited the order to cast off should necessity arise, while the Lieutenant-Commander, thrusting his head and shoulders through the conning-tower hatchway, made a deliberate survey of the limited expanse that met his gaze.
"Dashed if I know where we are," he exclaimed, for owing to the extinguishing of the recognized navigation lights, the almost total absence of lamps ashore, and above all the disconcerting glare of the search-lights, the skipper was unable to fix his position.
"May I have a look round, sir?" asked Dick. "I've put in part of a commission in these waters."
"Do so, by all means," replied Huxtable warmly. "Only take care you don't get spotted. If you are, make a blind rush for the conning-tower. Every second would be precious."
Clambering through the hatchway the Sub gained the limited space formed by the navigation platform. He, too, found that the hulls of the two hulks obstructed his view.
"I'll get on board this craft," said Dick, indicating the hulk alongside of which the submarine was lying. "It seems quite deserted."
"Carry on, then!" assented the Lieutenant-Commander; "but, mind you, we don't want to have to leave you behind."
"And I'm sure I don't want to be left," said Crosthwaite with a laugh. "I'll exercise caution."
The hulk was fitted with parallel rows of horizontal wooden ledges to serve as fenders. At whatever depth she drew—for her draught varied considerably according to the quantity of coal stowed on board—one of these fenders would always be in contact with any craft that happened to be lying alongside. Between the ledges were wooden ladders, to enable the ship-keepers to board from a boat.
Carefully making his way along one of the struts that held the anti-mine-girder to the side of the submarine, Dick swung himself upon the nearest fender. Then, swarming up a ladder until his head was on a level with the hulk's upper deck, he took a careful survey.
The craft looked a picture of desolation. Unshipped derricks, tackle, and a confused heap of ropes littered the limited deck space, for the greater portion was taken up by uncovered hatches. Under the break of the poop hung a large drum, which in Ottoman vessels takes the place of a ship's bell. Close to it were a long-necked earthenware vessel and a platter. These were the only signs of human occupation. The watch-keepers, if they were still on board, must be either deaf or sound asleep.
With his boots crunching the thick deposit of coal-dust Dick crept aft, and, satisfying himself that the cabin under the poop was deserted, ascended the rickety ladder.
Here he was comparatively safe from detection by the search-lights, for the poop was enclosed by tow bulwarks.
"Ah, I know where we are," thought the Sub, as from his elevated position he caught sight of the dome of the Mosque of Omar and a cluster of minarets that, marking the position of Constantinople, stood out distinctly against the loom of the distant search-lights of the forts on the northern shores of the Sea of Marmora. "That's good enough."
He proceeded to retrace his footsteps. As Huxtable had said, every second was of importance. At any moment an inquisitive patrol-boat might put in an appearance under the stern of the hulk, and although the surprise might be mutual, the submarine would run a serious risk of being rammed unless the Turkish officer in charge lost his head completely.
Just as Dick was about to descend the poop-ladder, a giant beam of light was flung athwart the deck. It was a search-light from Kadi Kohr, one of the forts on the Scutari side of the Bosphorus. Instantly the Sub flung himself upon the coal-dusty deck. As he did so he became aware that in the waist of the hulk a Turk was intently peering over the side at the British submarine.
Apparently he was puzzled as to her nationality. It was quite possible that he had not heard anything concerning the sinking of the Ottoman cruiser and the transport. On the other hand, German submarines were hourly expected at Constantinople, yet there was no valid reason why one should stealthily make fast alongside a coaling-hulk. Coal was of no use to her.
Suddenly something aroused his suspicions. Running aft, the Turk snatched up a drumstick and began to belabour the drum with all the energy at his command.
Realizing that the "game was up" and that he must regain the submarine with all dispatch, Dick left his place of concealment and scurried down the poop-ladder. As he did so the watch-keeper sought to intercept him, brandishing an iron crowbar above his head. Down swept the formidable weapon, but by leaping nimbly aside the Sub avoided the blow. The next instant his fist struck the Turk a heavy blow on the point of the chin, stretching him senseless on the deck.
Then, for no apparent reason, Dick tore the drum from its support and hurled it over the side. It was a sort of satisfaction to get rid of the instrument that had raised the alarm.
By this time a dozen search-lights were concentrated on the coal-hulk, with the result that the submarine lying on the lee side was in even greater darkness.
Fumbling for the topmost rung of the ladder over the hulk's side, Dick sought to find a means of descending to the British craft. It was impossible to see where he was going. He had to rely solely upon his sense of touch.
"Hurry up there!" sang out the Lieutenant-Commander impatiently, for he could see Crosthwaite's form silhouetted against the blaze of electric light.
There was no time to be lost. Patrol-boats were already hastening to the scene. Judging his distance Dick leapt, falling into the sea between the submarine and the hulk, and fortunately missing any of the struts that supported the horizontal girders. As he rose to the surface the two seamen who had remained on deck to cast off the hawser grabbed him by the shoulders and hauled him into safety.