Sub-lieutenant Crosthwaite was on the horns of a dilemma. His orders were to attempt the rescue of the crew of the mine-sweeper; he was also told to act in concert with the whaler of theTremendous. The latter was nowhere in sight. Which ought he to do? Proceed to the wreck, or go in search of the missing boat?
He made up his mind quickly. The trawler, although badly damaged, did not appear to be breaking up. If any of her crew were on board, having survived the breakers thus far, they ought to be able to hold on a little longer. He would search for the other whaler, or at least communicate the news of her being missing to Lieutenant Bourne and leave the two gigs to take up the search.
"If she's capsized she'll drop dead to leeward," declared Midshipman Farnworth, referring to the lost boat. "We'll back in, sir; I think that will be the best way."
"Certainly," agreed Dick cordially. He realized that the midshipman knew what he was about. Under the circumstances it was the safest way.
Watching for an opportunity when a "smooth" occurred between the heavy crested seas, the midshipman contrived to get his boat's bows on to the general direction of the waves, which, owing to the shoaling of the depth, were almost on the point of breaking. A cauldron of foaming water stretched dead to leeward, and towards it theHammerer'swhaler was slowly backed, the men ready at the hurried word of command to pull ahead directly a particularly vicious breaker bore down.
Although a smart look-out was kept, no sign of theTremendous'sboat was to be seen. It was like looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack, for, although the outlines of the encircling cliffs could be discerned against the rain-laden sky, objects on the water would be most difficult to distinguish even at a comparatively short distance.
"This is as far as we dare go," remarked the Sub. "We'll be fairly in broken water if we drift in any farther. There's no sign of the boat and her crew."
Bidding the men "give way", Dick awaited developments with certain misgivings. His expectations were presently to be realized, for the rowers, already exhausted by their efforts, were powerless to make the boat gain a foot. For twenty minutes they stuck gamely to their oars, driving the long, narrow craft through the crested waves, yet, owing to the force of the wind and the send of the sea, it seemed impossible to gain an offing.
Meanwhile, all unbeknown to theHammerer'swhaler, the boat of which they were in search had accomplished her errand. The heavy waves that had accounted for the two whalers becoming separated had smashed three oars of theTremendous'swhaler. Before the spare ones could be substituted and the water baled out, the light craft had drifted many yards to leeward.
The Sub-lieutenant in charge, actuated by a sense of rivalry, took unnecessary risks in keeping his boat almost broadside on to the waves, merely turning her nose into the worst of the breakers.
Unseen and unheard, the boat under Crosthwaite's orders backed within fifty yards astern of her, and while theHammerer'swhaler was going to leeward in a vain attempt to find her consort, the object of her search came in sight of the wreck.
Boarding on the lee side, the Sub in charge of theTremendous'swhaler succeeded in getting the whole of the mine-sweeper's crew into his boat, and, dangerously overladen, the whaler began her bid for safety. More by good luck than by good management the party crossed the dangerous bay, and having fallen in with the two gigs, the rescued men were distributed between the boats.
"Seen anything of theHammerer'swhaler?" asked Lieutenant Bourne anxiously, for, until the transhipment of the major portion of the trawler's people was being effected, he was under the impression that Dick and his crew were following in the wake of the other boat.
The Sub-lieutenant had to reply that he had not.
Bourne did not give way to recriminations. It not a time for reproaches. Ordering a rocket to be fired, he led his little flotilla from under the lee of the reef and awaited a recognition of his signal.
"There's the gig signalling, sir!" exclaimed one of the seamen to Dick. "They'll be coming to look for us."
"Pity them if they did," thought the Sub grimly, as he groped for the flashing-lamp under the stern-sheets.
Holding the lamp well above his head, for owing to the erratic motion of the boat he was unable to stand up, Dick made the preparation signal—a series of short flashes. This was promptly answered, but from the fact that the light was frequently interrupted, the Sub knew that the intervening waves made the chances of an intelligible signal very remote.
"Close on a lee shore," he morsed. "Do not proceed to our assistance. Propose to beach boat and proceed to rendezvous by the beach."
Back came the reply:
"Am proceeding to your assistance."
"Hang it!" ejaculated Dick. "They've missed the 'Do not'. I'll try again."
Before he could get the lamp in position a ripple of flashes burst through the darkness, followed by the sharp crackle of musketry. Bullets began to fall perilously near to the boat.
"That's done it," continued Crosthwaite. "The light's drawn the enemy's fire."
"Do not proceed to our assistance; no assistance required," signalled the Sub, deliberately making a redundancy in order that there would be less possibility of a further misreading.
"I understand," came the reply in Morse; then the light vanished. Already it had shared the attention of the fire of the Turkish troops.
The Sub looked at the jaded expressions on the faces of his men. They were almost "done up". Clearly they could not row much longer.
"My lads!" he exclaimed. "We're in a tight corner, but we won't go under tamely. Back her in, and we'll see if we can't send those fellows to the right-about."
At the prospect of a scrap the boat's crew forgot their fatigue. Promptly they began to back the whaler towards the shore.
"Unship the rudder," ordered the Sub. "Two oars will be sufficient to give her way. The rest of you look to your small-arms. Keep the sight-protectors on your rifles until you're ashore."
One thing—a most important business—Dick did not forget to do. He hurled the signal-book over the side. Heavily weighted, it sank like a stone. Happen what may, the enemy would not gain possession of that highly important and confidential manual.
Carried at a great rate by wind and waves, the doomed whaler was not long in striking bottom. Her heel hit a rock with tremendous force, while her bows, lifted by a heavy wave, shot up clear of the water, throwing several of the crew off their thwarts. Then, surging broadside on, the boat was filled with the next wave and hurled on her side upon the beach.
Agilely, and without sustaining any injuries, the officers and men leapt clear of the boat, and struggling through the "undertow" as the wave receded from the beach, succeeded in gaining the shore. Instinctively they took cover and waited for orders.
The men found themselves on a broad, gently shelving beach interspersed by clusters of weather- and sea-worn rocks. Between the fringe of the breakers and the base of the cliffs was a distance of nearly fifty yards. The sea being practically tideless, there was no danger of being cut off by the water.
Two hundred feet or more above, the Turkish soldiers on the summit of the cliff were still blazing away in the supposed direction of the boats, which had now rowed well clear of the bullet-flecked patch of angry water. The landing of theHammerer'swhaler had been unnoticed by them in the darkness and confusion, while fortunately Dick did not precipitate matters by giving orders to his men to open fire.
For quite five minutes the whaler's crew kept under cover; till, finding that they were not the mark of the Ottoman fire, the Sub gave the word for the men to advance until they reached the base of the cliff.
"All present?" asked Dick. "Any man injured?"
"All correct, sir," replied the coxswain. "Two rifles are missing, but Job Trayner and Bill Symes brought the ammunition chest ashore."
"Well done!" exclaimed Crosthwaite.
It was indeed fortunate that, even in the midst of peril when the boat struck, the two seamen had had the courage and forethought to bring ashore the small teak case containing the small-arms ammunition; equally so that most of the men had secured their pouches, which, during their arduous efforts to gain headway, had been laid aside.
"Follow me, my lads!" said the Sub. "All being well, another half an hour will see us safely in the boats."
It was not easy going, for at every five or six yards a projecting ridge of rock had either to be skirted or surmounted—a task rendered doubly difficult by the darkness and the slippery state of the ground caused by the heavy downpour of rain.
Presently Dick came to an abrupt halt and held up his hand. The single line of men stopped, some gripping their rifles in anticipation of an attack.
The young officer found his progress barred by a small creek or gully that extended into a ravine, and evidently received a river or stream, for there was a considerable amount of water running towards the sea.
It was imperative that this inlet should be crossed, but the Sub hesitated: not that he was loath to attempt to swim the stretch of intervening water, for already he was soaking owing to the dash through the surf. The nature of the opposite bank was the difficulty, for as far as he could make out in the darkness, the stream had worked the rocks smooth, and a ledge of stone quite five feet above the surface offered a wellnigh impassable barrier to a swimmer to draw himself clear of the water and surmount.
"I'll see what it is like, sir," volunteered Trayner. "Maybe it's not so bad as it looks."
The man lowered himself into the water and struck out. By dint of swimming obliquely upstream he contrived to gain the other side almost opposite the place where the others waited. Both up and down stream he swam for a considerable distance, till the Sub cautiously ordered him to return.
"Felt like a mouse in half a bucket of water, sir," explained Trayner. "Sides are as smooth as a ship's sides—p'r'aps worse. I'll have another shot a little way up the creek."
"You've done enough for the present, Trayner," said Dick, noticing the strained look about the man's eyes. "Two of you work away to the left and two to the right. Return as smartly as you can, and report."
The men went off, leaving Dick and the main party literally to cool their heels by the side of the baffling gully. Presently the pair who had gone towards the opening of the creek returned with the information that there was a shallow bar where the stream joined the sea, and that it was easy to ford.
Before they had finished their report the other two reappeared.
"There's a way over about a couple of hundred yards up, sir," announced one. "There's a path on either side of this gully, and, what's more, the one on this side goes up towards the top of the cliff. Looks as If it's used a goodish bit, sir. If I might make so bold as to suggest, sir——"
"Carry on, Webb."
"There's a wholesome type o' craft lying alongside—wholesome as boats along these parts, sir. She's felucca-rigged. P'r'aps if we could cut her out——"
"It's dead to windward, and as there's a bar at the entrance we couldn't get her across in heavy weather," objected Crosthwaite. "We'll push on, or we'll find the boats gone when we arrive at the rendezvous."
Traversing the fifty yards of rocky beach, the men reached the spot where the bar crossed the entrance. Here the danger arose of being spotted by the Turks on the cliff, for even in the darkness the milk-white foam showed up distinctly and made a bad background to the moving seamen. Yet one thing was in their favour. The attention of the troops seemed to be wholly directed upon a supposed target in the centre of the bay.
"One at a time, men; don't——"
Dick broke off as the giant beam of a powerful search-light flung its long arm athwart the bay. The Turks, well supplied by modern accessories of war, had brought up a portable search-light mounted on a motor-lorry, the wheels of which were specially adapted to traversing difficult ground.
The Sub realized that it was neck or nothing. If his party did not cross at once while the beam trying to pick up the object at which the riflemen had been firing so long, the search-light would be trained upon the beach, so that in the event of a landing being effected, the Turks could make their dispositions accordingly. On the other hand, the search-light would reveal the presence of the three boats at the rendezvous, with the result that Lieutenant Bourne would have to push off without waiting for the crew of theHammerer'swhaler.
Undiscovered, the boat's crew succeeded in wading along the bar, frequently waist-deep in foam. From this point the remaining portion of the beach presented but little difficulty. There were obstructions in the shape of rocks and little streams making their way to the sea, but nothing of a serious nature. After three-quarters of an hour's smart marching the men arrived at the rendezvous on the under the lee of Bender Dagh Point.
The boats had left. Dick and his party were stranded upon a hostile shore.
The men took their misfortune with the utmost composure. Some of them exchanged witticisms, regarding the business in the light of having gone ashore on leave and having missed the "liberty boat". One thing they regretted was not being able to smoke, since the glimmer of a match might draw the enemy's fire; so they "stood easy" under the shelter of an overhanging rock and chewed "Navy Plug", while the Sub and the midshipman discussed the situation.
"Bourne has evidently come to the conclusion that the boat's crew have lost the number of their mess," remarked Dick. "When one comes to consider matters, it is not surprising." And he pointed to the turmoil of broken water in Yenikeui Bay. "It is just possible that the Admiral will send a destroyer to investigate as soon as it gets daylight; but the question is, how are they going to pick us up under fire?"
"We can only hang on, sir," replied Farnworth. "Perhaps the Turks will clear out at sunrise, and we will be able to see if the boat's capable of floating. Should the sea moderate, it ought to be easy."
"I don't believe in hanging on," said Dick. "I think the wind's veering. It was almost due south, now it's sou'-east. Unless I'm much mistaken it will settle down to east'ard, and the sea on the other side of the bay will go down considerably."
"And then, sir?"
"We'll collar that craft our fellows discovered in the creek. From their accounts I should imagine it to be a felucca. They're fine, weatherly craft, and with the wind abeam she ought to skip over the bar like greased lightning. I'll get the men on the move."
Under the circumstances Sub-lieutenant Crosthwaite did not believe in giving orders without explaining to the boat's crew his intentions. Calling the men to attention, he briefly outlined his plan of operation. Were it not for the necessity for silence, the seamen would have cheered; instead, they showed by the grim expression on their faces that they would willingly follow their young officer, and trust implicitly to his good judgment.
"That's a blessing!" ejaculated Farnworth as the hostile search-light was switched off. "Those fellows evidently have come to the conclusion that they've been had."
Dick was not so sanguine. It might be possible that the projector required adjustment, and the beam had to be shut off in consequence. But after an interval of five minutes, during which time there were no signs of activity on the part of the Turks—for their rifle-fire had died away shortly after the arrival of the boat's crew at the rendezvous—he concluded that it would be fairly safe to order the party to retrace their steps.
The Sub's prognostics concerning the change of wind had become verified. It now blew directly into the faces of the party, the stinging rain adding to their discomforts. Already the small streams through which they had previously waded with the water a little above their ankles were now more than knee-deep, and momentarily increasing in volume and impetuosity.
Suddenly, while climbing over an exceptionally slippery ledge of rock, Dick's feet slipped from under him. Making a vain and frantic attempt to obtain a grip, he fell a distance of six or seven feet, his boots clattering on the stones. Before he could rise he was astounded to hear a challenge.
Twenty paces from him could be distinguished the figures of about a score of Turkish troops.
The British seamen acted promptly. They realized that now there was no going back. Over the ledge they dropped, and, as Dick regained his feet, the men waited only to fix bayonets, then with their officers charged the foe.
They were greeted by a ragged volley that did no damage, most of the bullets ringing overhead. Not caring to wait for cold steel that glittered ominously in the dim light, the Ottomans broke and fled.
As they did so they were greeted by a fusillade from others of their countrymen on the beach and from the summit of the cliff. In the succession of lurid flashes Dick's eye caught sight of a field-piece partly concealed by a breastwork of stones.
Calling for his men to empty their magazines in rapid volleys that completely deceived the enemy as to the number that opposed them, the Sub led the boat's crew to the attack.
With a rousing British cheer that outvoiced the rattle of musketry the impetuous seamen obeyed. A tough tussle, an interchange of bayonet thrusts, and the Turks momentarily melted away, leaving the field-piece in the hands of the meagre boat's crew.
"What shall we do with this 'ere gun, sir?" a stalwart bluejacket. "Slew 'er round and give 'em a dose?"
Before the Sub could reply, the search-light flooded the scene with its dazzling rays. Almost simultaneously came the tap-tap-tap of a Maxim, and a sheaf of bullets whizzing overhead and splitting the rocks behind with fragments of nickel.
"Disable the gun!" shouted Dick. "Take the trail lever, one of you."
With a quick movement the Sub opened the breech-block. A sailor seized the lever with which the Turkish Krupps are trained in a horizontal plane. Poising the steel bar above his head, the man brought it down with tremendous force upon the out-swung piece of mechanism. The interrupted thread, deeply dented by the blow, was rendered useless, while the breech-block itself, partly wrenched from its massive hinges, was for the time being incapable of service.
Already three of the small party were shot down. To retire was to court annihilation in the form of a scythe-like hail of Maxim bullets that swept the ridge behind: a barrier that had to be surmounted if escape were contemplated in that direction. To remain where they were meant being under a galling fire from the cliffs, and with very little natural protection from the surrounding ground. A third solution remained: to advance and sell their lives dearly.
Thrusting his revolver into his holster, Dick picked up the rifle and bayonet of one of the fallen men and shouted to the party to advance.
Taking full advantage of every little bit of natural cover the men pressed forward, firing as rapidly as they could recharge and empty their magazines.
Still uncertain of the number that opposed them, and thinking that the attack was part of a landing in force, the Turks gave way until their retrograde movement was checked by fresh bodies of troops hastening to repel the threatened assault.
Into the midst of the scene of confusion—for Turk was fighting Turk in the opposing movement of the disorganized throng—Dick and his handful of men hurled themselves.
Partly dazzled by the search-light which was playing obliquely upon the mêlée from the high ground, the Sub set about him like a young Berserk. A blow from the butt-end of a Turkish rifle shattered his bayonet close to the hilt. Gripping his rifle by the muzzle end of the barrel, Dick swung it right and left, clearing a gap in the dense ranks of his assailants.
Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of young Farnworth putting up a stiff fight with three tall and muscular Turks, while a few feet away from the midshipman was a German officer in the act of levelling his revolver, and awaiting an opportunity of firing at the plucky British lad.
Down swung Dick's rifle, purposely missing his antagonist's guard. Shortening the weapon, the Sub dashed it into the Turk's face, then drawing his revolver, fired three shots in rapid succession at the fez-bedecked Teuton.
"That's settled your little game, you brute," thought Dick savagely, as the German pitched forward on his face. Hitherto the Sub had fought for fighting's sake. He bore no particular animosity against any of his Moslem antagonists, but the sight of the German standing out of immediate danger and awaiting an opportunity to coolly pick off the midshipman, directly he was not masked by his immediate foes, had aroused Dick's deepest ire.
When he looked again young Farnworth was no longer standing. The lad had been overcome by the numerical superiority of his attackers.
Again and again Dick fired, till the hammer of his revolver falling with a dull click told him that the weapon was empty. Hurling it at the near-most of his foes, the Sub stooped to regain his rifle. As he did so a stalwart Bashi Bazouk struck him a heavy blow on the head with the butt-end of his gun, and without a groan Dick fell within a yard of the body of his brother officer.
It was broad daylight when the Sub recovered his senses. He found himself lying in a large, whitewashed room, the walls of which were of immense thickness and pierced on one side by four narrow pointed windows, through which the sun was pouring fiercely.
He was stretched upon a low bed. Close beside him was Midshipman Farnworth, his head almost enveloped in bandages.
The only other occupant of the room a tall, sinewy man dressed in the uniform of a Turkish seaman—jumper and trousers very similar to those worn by the British tar, and a dark-red fez. He had discarded his boots and wore a pair of scarlet soft-leather slippers.
"How can do?" he asked, seeing that Dick bestirring himself.
"Where am I?" demanded the Sub.
"Plis'ner of war. You in Fort Medjidieh. Me good man. Help Englis officer. How can do?"
"Get me something to drink then," said Dick, for his throat was burning like a limekiln.
"No beer, no have got," declared the Turk imperturbably.
"Confound the fellow! He evidently imagines that British subjects drink nothing but beer," thought the Sub. "No, I don't want beer," he aloud; "bring me something cool—cold—not hot, savvy?"
"Me—Ahmed Djezzar—go. Me your fliend," announced the man; and placing his hand over his heart and bowing subserviently, he noiselessly glided out of the room, locking the door as soon as he was outside.
"Rummy proceedings, 'pon my soul," soliloquized Dick. "The fellow says I'm a prisoner of war. I suppose he's right; but there's one thing to be said: up to the present they have treated me pretty decently. The Turks are streets above the Germans in the way they handle their prisoners. I wonder what the game is?"
Taking into consideration the dirty and untidy habits of the Turks, the room was fairly clean and presentable. If his informant was right, Dick Crosthwaite was now in a portion of one of the fortresses actually on The Narrows, and roughly twenty-one miles from Yenikeui. During the interval between the times of his having been rendered unconscious in the affray on the beach and of recovering his senses, he had been carried over hilly roads running practically parallel to the Asiatic shores of the Dardanelles.
Why his captors should have gone to this trouble he knew not. He could only come to the conclusion that, fearing a landing in force to the south of Kum Kale, they had removed their prisoners to quarters where for the time being they were not likely to be recaptured.
Propping himself up by his elbow Dick listened intently. To his intense disappointment he heard no sounds of guns—not even a distant rumble. Did it mean the operations had been abandoned?
He began wondering what had happened to the rest of the boat's crew; why his captors should have detailed a Turkish bluejacket to attend the two wounded officers; and why Ahmed Djezzar had so vehemently expressed himself as being a friend. These and a hundred other thoughts flashed through his mind, until his reveries were interrupted by the reappearance of the Turk bearing a metal tray on which was a brass cup and a jug filled with sherbet water.
Dick drank eagerly. As he did so a faint suspicion that the liquid might be poisoned entered his brain, only to be quickly dismissed, since he recognized that if his captors had wished to dispose of him they had already had ample opportunities. Nevertheless the sherbet water was drugged, and it had the result of sending the Sub to sleep for several hours.
He awoke, feeling considerably refreshed, to find that young Farnworth was sitting up in bed and regarding him with eagerness.
"Thought you'd never wake up, sir," he remarked. "You've been sleeping heavily for at least twelve hours."
"How are you feeling?" asked Dick.
"Pretty rotten," admitted the midshipman. "Head feels like a block of wood. But it isn't that: it's the beastly knowledge that we are off the fun for the time being."
"You put up a jolly stiff fight, anyhow."
"I did my best," replied Farnworth modestly; "but it's beastly humiliating being collared like this, and not knowing how things are going. There's a Turkish bluejacket hanging about——"
"I know," said Dick. "A fellow who made a point of stating that he was our friend. Why I can't make out."
"He tells me we've had a proper set-back," continued the midshipman wearily. "Of course I don't know whether he's telling the truth or not, but he swears that the Turks have captured one of our submarines."
"Rot!" ejaculated Crosthwaite derisively. "Captured? Not a bit of it. It's a lie."
"Anyway there was a lot of heavy firing about five hours ago. It only lasted twenty minutes. The fellow swears that the submarine was stranded, and that they've captured officers and crew. The Turks hope to get the vessel off and take her to Constantinople."
Dick looked serious. He had seen enough of war to know that often the improbable does happen, yet he could not understand how a British submarine could have been taken. Why should it have got into shoal water at all? he wondered.
Just then Ahmed entered, accompanied by a "hakim" or native doctor. The latter, although unable to speak English, could converse fluently in French, a language with which both the Sub and the midshipman were well acquainted.
Deftly the doctor unbound Dick's head and examined the contused scalp-wound. Then he did a like office to Farnworth, chatting affably the while on all kinds of subjects, the war excepted. Try as he would, without going straight to the point, Dick could not bring the doctor to say a word relating to the hostilities.
"You are both progressing nicely," he declared. "By the day after to-morrow you will be fit to go out and take the air."
No sooner had the medical man left than Ahmed took up his parable:
"Me want to help Englis officers," he said. "Me good Ottoman and no like the Germans. We fight. Why? Because they make us. All fault of Young Turks. German officers, they bad mans. Some time I shoot one in de back."
He paused to watch the result of his pro-British declaration. Finding that his listeners showed no signs of enthusiasm over his plans for ridding the world of at least one German officer, Ahmed continued:
"Me know plenty Englis officers, when dey was in the Ottoman Navy. All gone now—hard cheese. Why you laugh?"
"I was only smiling at your wonderful knowledge of the English language," replied Farnworth.
"Yaas—wonerful, dat is so. Now I tell you dis; de German General, von Sanders, ordered you plis'ners to be sent to Skutari. Telim Pasha, he say 'no'. Telim Pasha friend of Englis and of Ahmed Djezzar. When Englis army come: how many soldiers?"
Ahmed raised his eyebrows inquiringly. The Sub shook his head.
"I don't know," he replied shortly.
"P'laps twenty tousand?"
"I haven't the faintest idea."
For a brief instant Ahmed showed signs of disappointment.
"Dey come soon?" he asked.
"I cannot tell," replied Dick, beginning to feel nettled by the fellow's inquisitiveness. "Now, clear out; we want to have a rest."
The man obeyed. As before he locked the door after him. Directly the door clicked Dick sprang swiftly and noiselessly out of bed, crossed the room, and placed his ear to the keyhole. Hearing nothing, he peered through the narrow slit; then with a grim smile on his face he returned to his bed, at the same time holding up a warning finger to check the mystified midshipman's enquiry.
"Hello! There's a sea-plane!" exclaimed Dick about a quarter of an hour later. He hastened to one of the windows, while Farnworth, walking unsteadily from the effects of his injuries, took up his stand at an adjoining one.
The whirr of the aerial propellers grew louder and louder. The Turkish soldiers, lolling about in the courtyard within the fort, overcame their lethargy sufficiently to raise their heads and follow the course of the aeroplane.
Presently it passed almost overhead, proceeding in a south-westerly direction. It was flying low—at about two hundred feet. On the under side of the main plane were two red crescents—the distinguishing marks of the Turkish air-craft.
Hearing the whirr of the blades, other soldiers hurried from the buildings. Amongst them were two German officers.
The latter waited until the sea-plane was out of sight; then, allowing their swords to clank noisily over the stones, they walked towards the opposite side of the quadrangle, the Turkish soldiers standing stiffly at attention as they did so.
At that moment someone hailed them.
Turning on their heels the officers retraced their steps. Curiosity prompted Dick to crane his head to follow their movements. Not altogether to his surprise he discovered that the owner of the peremptory voice was the self-styled Ahmed Djezzar. In spite of being in the uniform of a Turkish bluejacket the two Germans saluted.
"No luck," he reported, speaking in German—a language that, after many mentally and bodily painful hours at school and a subsequent "roasting" at Osborne and Dartmouth, Dick could follow, with comparative ease. "No luck. The English swine do not seem communicative. I'll try them again; then, if that fails, we'll take other measures."
"You were wondering what I was doing just now," Dick.
"When you tiptoed to the door?" asked Farnworth.
"Yes. I couldn't explain at the time, because friend Ahmed had his ear glued to the keyhole. He's not listening now. He's just had two German officers kow-towing to him."
"Eh?" ejaculated the midshipman incredulously.
"Fact! I had my suspicions, and now they are fully confirmed. The fellow's name is no more Ahmed Djezzar than mine is. He's a German. You noticed he was very persistent in asking questions about the British Expeditionary Force in the Dardanelles?"
"Yes, sir; and you jolly well boomed him off. He didn't appear to like it."
"He's got some infernal scheme under way. He's just told the other fellows, who are evidently inferior in rank to him in spite of his rig as a Turkish bluejacket, that he hasn't been at all successful at pumping us, up to the present, but that he means to have another shot at it. Failing this, he hints at strong measures, so we must be prepared to undergo a little discomfort."
"What do you propose to do, sir?"
"Let him have it hot if he starts his 'Me friend of Englis officers'. This room would be all right for half a dozen rounds. I think I could alter the shape of his figurehead. Hello, there's that seaplane returning, and, by Jove, they're firing!"
The officers rushed to the windows once more. Although they could not see immediately overhead, they had a fairly comprehensive view of the sky from west through north to north-east.
The courtyard was now filled with Turkish soldiers and sailors, all roused at the noise of the approaching air-craft. Most of them had their rifles and were preparing to open fire, while upon the broad rampart on the far side men were making ready with a couple of anti-aircraft guns.
"One of our sea-planes in pursuit, I think," observed Farnworth excitedly.
"I think you're right. Hello—here's the Turkish aeroplane."
The monoplane was travelling fast in a northerly direction. The pilot was not visible, but the observer had faced about and was firing with a rifle at the pursuer, which had not yet come within the British officers' range of vision.
Even as Dick and his companion watched, a bullet cut through a pair of tension wires to the right-hand main plane. The sea-plane started to bank, slipped, and fell sideways like a wounded bird. More and more it tilted till both pilot and observer were flung from their seats.
Frantically grasping the thin air they dropped with ever-increasing velocity, till their line of descent was hidden by the intervening buildings; but the officers distinctly heard two separate thuds as the bodies struck the earth.
With its propeller still revolving rapidly, the disabled monoplane described erratic curves. Suddenly the Turkish soldiers bolted for dear life, as the uncontrollable air-craft plunged almost vertically downwards into the courtyard. With a fearful crash it landed twenty yards from the window at which the Sub and his companion had taken stand. The litter of framework and canvas trailed on the ground like the gear of a dismasted racing yacht; then, as the petrol took fire, a column of flame rose fifty feet in the air.
"There she is!" almost shouted the midshipman.
Less than two hundred feet above Fort Medjidieh glided a large biplane. The motor had been switched off, for the crew had vol-planed down from a far greater height in order to make sure of their work.
"A Frenchman!" ejaculated Crosthwaite, for the tricolours on the under side of the main planes were clearly visible. "Hope he'll drop a couple of heavy bombs upon these ragamuffins. I'd be quite willing to the risk of any pieces hitting me."
The courtyard was now deserted, but from the doors and windows abutting on the open space, red-fezzed Turks peeped timorously, some of them plucking up courage to fire at the daring sea-plane. As for the crews of the anti-aircraft guns, they scurried off without letting fly a single round. The two German officers who had been conversing with the so-called Ahmed tried to restrain them, but in vain. One of the officers then began to train the nearest gun, but he, too, thought better of it, for holding his sword to prevent himself being tripped up, he ignominiously ran for shelter.
By this time the biplane had restarted its motor and was banking steeply. None of the shots fired at it had taken effect, nor did the aeroplane attempt to drop any bombs. Apparently its mission had been to chase the inquisitive Turkish monoplane, and to observe the nature of the defences of Fort Medjidieh. Having thrice circled over the hostile position with contemptuous indifference to the desultory fusillade, it returned towards its base.
Directly it turned tail the Turkish infantrymen and artillerymen issued from their shelters in swarms, and for five minutes—long after the French air-craft was out of range—a terrific waste of ammunition testified to the tardy zeal of the Ottoman soldiery.
During this time Dick saw nothing of Ahmed. The Teuton—for such he was—had made himself scarce. Nor did he put in an appearance during the rest of the day, the evening meal being brought in by a Nubian.
After breakfast on the following day the British officers were taken out for exercise under the escort of a file of soldiers. Their walk was limited to the extent of the courtyard, so that the Sub had no opportunity of taking mental notes of the details of the interior of the fort, for the heavy guns commanding The Narrows were hidden from sight by the barrack quarters.
Twenty minutes were allowed them. The Sub was able to smoke, some excellent cigarettes being given him by the corporal in charge of the party. At the expiration of the time the prisoners were marched back to their quarters, where they found Ahmed, unruffled and obsequious, awaiting them.
"Well, Ahmed," said Dick, with well-assumed jocularity, "we didn't see much of you yesterday. I thought perhaps you had been sent to take the captured British submarine to Constantinople."
The man looked completely taken aback. He suppressed an exclamation the commencement of which sounded remarkably like a German oath.
"You have been told by dese odder Ottomans then? What dey tell you, eh?"
Something in the fellow's tone gave Crosthwaite his cue.
"So you didn't get the submarine after all?" he asked.
Ahmed shrugged his shoulders.
"You know too much," he said. "I must find out de soldier what tell you about de Englis sailors who broke de wreck to bits, so no good to Ottoman."
"Look here, Ahmed," continued the Sub. "You asked me a question the other day. Now I want to ask you one. What happened to the rest of my men when we were taken prisoners?"
The man looked suspiciously at his questioner.
"Me no tell," he said slowly, "No can do. P'lap I tell if you say how many Englismans come to fight us on land. P'laps if dey too many we Ottomans no fight. Me no want more fight, an' plenty odders no fight."
Dick was sitting on the of his during the conversation. Now he stood up, erect and determined.
"Look here, Herr Major," he said sternly, hazarding the German's rank since the two captains had saluted the pseudo-Turkish seaman. "Don't try to bamboozle us. It can't be done. You haven't the pluck to sail under your own colours: you must needs pretend you're a Turk—and a precious rotten pretence it is. You told your pals you were going to have one more attempt. You've done so, and made a horrible mess of it. Now try your other plan; but take it from me, you've a couple of Englishmen to deal with. Clear out!"
Too astounded for words, the German could only look sheepishly at the man who had given him a "dressing-down". His mouth worked as if he were trying to utter some malediction. Then, cowed by the Sub's bearing and obviously frightened at Dick's clenched fists, he backed towards the door.
On the threshold he paused, with his hand on the key.
"Swine, English swine!" he shouted. "You'll be sorry for this."
Amid the scornful laughter of Dick and the midshipman the German slammed the door and locked it.
"That's done it," remarked Dick. "Now for reprisals, I suppose."
"He was in a tear!" said Farnworth, with a laugh at the thought of the fellow's discomfiture. "But, by Jove, sir, how you kidded him over that submarine business!"
"It was quite a fluke," explained Dick. "I had my doubts about the capture of one of our submarines, but evidently one has been lost. Naturally our fellows wouldn't let a thing like that remain in the hands of the enemy, and by that Teuton's admission it is pretty certain that we've destroyed the craft to prevent her being made use of by the Turks. Hello, the fun's going to commence!"
This remark was caused by the sounds of the tramp of feet in the corridor. The door was unlocked, and a party of Turkish soldiers, headed by a German in the uniform of a captain in the Ottoman service, burst unceremoniously into the room.
Not a word was spoken. The German pointed to various articles and to the door. Acting upon this mute order the soldiers removed the British officers' beds, chairs, and other pieces of furniture.
A couple of lithe Turks seized each of the prisoners and stripped them of their uniforms. In five minutes Dick and his companion were left standing in nondescript garments in the midst of a bare room.
"Part of the programme, I suppose," commented the Sub. "Meagre rations and a Spartan existence. I hope they won't chuck in the bastinado as an extra."
That night the prisoners slept on straw, their supper consisting of rice and cold water. It was part of the policy of the German officer, who, under the mistaken impression that an Englishman exists simply for the sake of eating roast beef, thought to compel the Sub and his companion to betray the nature of the operations against the Dardanelles.
Five long weeks passed in this tedious waiting. During this time the prisoners had ample opportunities of watching the Turkish soldiers drilling under their German officers and non-coms. The latter drove the Ottomans almost beyond the limits of endurance. Blows and kicks were showered upon the Kismet-imbued Turks, who, possibly regarding such treatment as necessary for efficiency, betrayed no signs of resentment.
Another thing the Sub noticed was the supremely contemptuous indifference the German officers paid to marks of respect. They would swagger across the courtyard, the Turkish troops saluting with an alertness that vied with the smartness of Prussian troops on the parade-ground at Potsdam, yet the officers hardly ever condescended to return the compliment.
During the whole of that time the prisoners once caught sight of the pseudo Ahmed. On that occasion he had discarded his Turkish bluejacket's clothes and was rigged out in the uniform of a German major of artillery. A number of field-guns had just arrived at the fort, and the major was in charge of the battery. It seemed as if the German instructors, knowing the terrific damage done by the British naval guns against permanent forts, and also with the lessons of Liége and Namur fresh in their minds, intended to rely not upon guns of position, but upon powerful mobile weapons, for the defence of the historic waterway.
The captives were no longer allowed to take exercise in the open air. Instead, they regularly practised simple Swedish drill in order to keep their muscles in good condition, for, as Farnworth observed, "one never knew what might turn up". In spite of their meagre fare they contrived to keep fairly fit and active.
"Guns!" exclaimed Farnworth one morning.
"Target practice," added Dick; but after waiting a minute he added; "No; by Jove, it's the real thing! We're having another go at hammering at Turkey's gate."
For three hours the firing continued with unabated violence. Fort Medjidieh, being out of the scope of the operations, made no attempt to use its guns, but the field-battery went off in mad haste.
At length the interchange of gunnery ceased. Towards evening the battery returned, minus one gun, while several of the artillerymen bore traces of being badly knocked about. From six to sunset wounded Turkish troops began to pour into the fort, some hardly able to walk. Yet no attempt was made to alleviate their pain. They were simply ordered to their barrack-rooms, and had to rely upon their own efforts and those of their comrades to attend to their wounds.
As soon as it grew dark, Dick and his companion in misfortune threw themselves upon their straw beds. Being unprovided with lights, they generally turned in at sunset and talked until overtaken by sleep.
They had not been lying down for more than ten minutes when the door opened, and the German Major, accompanied by a subaltern, entered. They had evidently come straight from the scene of action, for they wore long grey coats bespattered with mud and the yellow stains of lyddite, their faces were grimed with smoke and dust. Each wore a sword under his coat, with the hilt projecting through a vertical slit. The Major also carried a revolver in a holster slung across his left shoulder, and counterbalanced by a sling to which was attached a case containing a pair of binoculars. They were accompanied by a soldier bearing a lamp. This he set down on the floor, and, having saluted, left the room. The subaltern locked the door after him.
"Good evening, gentlemen," began the Major in good English which contrasted with the jargon which he had used in his rôle of a Turkish seaman. "We have occasion to do business."
"But not with us," added Dick readily.
"I think so," corrected the Major. "And you will be glad of it when you hear our proposal. Perhaps you are unaware that to-day the French landed at Kum Kale. We quickly sent them to the right-about, and they had to re-embark in disorder. Unfortunately for us, during the operations two Turkish officers of high rank were taken prisoners and conveyed on board an man-of-war that was covering the re-embarkation of the French troops. I trust I have made myself clear?"
"Proceed, then," said Dick.
"The loss of these two officers was duly reported to Turkish head-quarters, and Enver Bey immediately telegraphed that we should offer two British in exchange. Would you be willing to sign an undertaking, in the event of your being released, not to take up arms against the Allies?"
"That we would not," declared the Sub emphatically.
"I thought you would not. A true soldier—whether he be in the Navy or Army—would never do so. Still, the idea occurred to me: a thousand pardons. Now here is a statement for the British Admiral. All you have to do is for both of you to sign your names and add your rank in the space provided, and the exchange will be carried out promptly."
The Major produced a folded paper from the breast pocket of his greatcoat, while the subaltern held out a fountain pen.
"Why don't you sign?" asked the German.
"One minute," said Dick. "The writing is in Turkish characters."
"That is quite evident," remarked the Major suavely; "but that does not alter the text of the communication."
"You ought to know that all correspondence between belligerents is in French, Herr Major," said the Sub. "Under the circumstances I decline to have any truck with it."
"Truck?" asked the German in a puzzled tone. "What does that mean?"
"That I won't sign."
"Then there are other English officers who would be only too pleased to do so," suggested the Major tentatively.
"It's my opinion you're trying another of your dirty tricks," continued Dick. "No, don't get excited," he added, as the German's hand flew to his sword-hilt. "That proves what I say. I think we may as well come to an understanding."
The German backed and said a few words to his companion. It was enough to confirm Dick's suspicions, for the subaltern also laid his hand upon his sword.
With a well-directed blow the Sub planted his clenched fist squarely upon the point of the Major's chin. With hardly a sound he fell senseless upon the pile of straw.