CHAPTER IX.THE BATTLE IN THE STRAITS.
There was a dreadful silence aboard the battleship following the explosion of that Turkish shell. Both the boys had been knocked down by the concussion. They sat up, looking rather stupid, and Amos was rubbing the back of his head as though it had come in for a smart blow when it struck the metal deck.
Jack looked him over anxiously.
“Not hurt, I hope, Amos?” he exclaimed, when he could find his breath.
“Er—I guess only a bump or so,” stammered the other, trying to smile, although the effort was a dismal failure because it made his head hurt. “Say, that was a peach of a crack, wasn’t it? They got our range that time all right, seems like, and more may follow that shell.”
“They’ve changed the course of the ship, I think,” said Jack, “for the purpose of blockingthat very game. I wonder how much damage it did aboard?”
“I’m almost afraid to find out,” Amos admitted, “because some of the poor fellows may be lying around terribly hurt, or else blown into bits.”
Gaining their feet they pushed in the direction of the spot where the shell had burst. It was forward on the port side, and from this fact they knew the missile must have come from a battery or fort on Gallipoli and not the Asiatic side of the straits.
Despite the fact that there was nothing but the best of steel to be struck by the monster shell, so powerful was the explosive contained in the same that much material damage had been effected. Luckily few of the crew chanced to be within reach of the explosion. Three men received minor wounds, no one was killed, and the damage, the boys quickly learned, was not likely to interfere in the least with the work laid out for theThundereron that morning.
“If one of those big things ever burst close toa fellow,” Amos commented as he examined the effect of the gunfire, “it would be all day with him.”
“One thing sure,” Jack added, “he would never know what hurt him. It would be like being struck by lightning; they say the victim sees a flash, and that is the end of it. He never lives long enough to hear the thunder, even when it comes hot on the heels of the lightning.”
The boys were greatly interested in the humble and dangerous though necessary work of the numerous mine-sweepers. Glory there was none for the brave-hearted men aboard the small boats that kept stubbornly at their labor, despite the fire to which they were frequently subjected. Now and then one might be hit and go down, whereupon the crew of a few men must take their chances with the sharks known to infest those waters when there was so much fighting going on.
“They are heroes, every one of them,” Amos declared, when they talked of the remarkable courage shown by the men aboard these smallcraft. “Just as much as the fellow who does some striking deed in the spotlight, and is rewarded by the Nation’s praise, as well as the Victoria Cross. Buttheynever expect to be known, and are content to just go on and do their work the best way they can see, content if success crowns their efforts.”
“Yes, and right now, Amos, while we’re talking about the risks they run, if you look at that sweeper over near the shore you’ll see she’s sinking.”
“You’re right, Jack; she must have been struck by a shot of some kind from one of those concealed shore batteries. These Turks are pretty clever about hiding their guns, and suddenly making a killing. The meanest patch of brush may shelter three or four guns that even the aviators above fail to see.”
“I think the commanders on the warships dread those hidden batteries more than they do the big guns at Kilid Bahr or Chanak up in the Narrows,” Jack went on to say.
“Then they ought to do something to find outwhere they are located, I should think,” was the opinion expressed by his comrade.
“The mine-sweepers are helping to do that, for it seems the gunners lying hidden among the gullies ashore find it hard to resist smashing one when they get an opportunity. And that, you know, Amos, shows the watchers on the warships just where to send some of their big shells.”
All this while the busy birdmen were circling the battle field, and constantly seeking to impart important information which, from their lofty eyrie, they were enabled to collect.
“They can see a thousand things from up there, you know,” Jack was saying presently when they watched one of the airmen dropping little bombs that made a great smoke, but which were intended simply as signals to the fleet.
“Yes, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they could watch the movements of a submarine far below the surface of the water. I really wonder why aeroplanes haven’t been used to follow and destroy some of the German submersibles that have commenced preying on British commerce.”
“Perhaps they have, for all we can say,” Jack told him. “I know from experiments that when you’re fifty feet above a shallow body of water you can, in calm weather, see the bottom everywhere. That’s how the fish-hawk picks out the prize it wants for its dinner.”
Their exchange of remarks had to be frequently interrupted, for there were violent bursts of cannonading that rendered conversation next to impossible. Many of the British and French warships were now inside the strait, and doing their utmost to silence the enemy batteries.
This was not all by any means. From other positions many miles away came the heaviest of booming. The boys understood that this marked the presence of the super-dreadnaughtQueen Elizabeth, which from a station out in the open sea could drop enormous shells from her sixteen-inch guns on the Turkish forts in the Narrows, doing great damage.
After the time when Jack and his cousin had the privilege of witnessing that battle in the straits the conditions changed radically.Thanks to those same floating mines that sank a number of vessels, the frontal attack had to be given up, and a new campaign inaugurated, troops by the tens of thousands being landed on Gallipoli, to try and push the stubborn Turks from their lines.
As they stood there on the deck of theThundererand watched the stirring drama of sea and land forces in conflict,the two American boys realized that they were in touch with one of the grandest combats the world had ever known. History would so record it, they felt sure, as they gazed with rapt attention, taking in all the marvelous sights.
Another shell burst against the side of the battleship, and must have made more or less of a dent in her armor. This was to be expected; indeed few of those many staunch warships would pass through this combat without signs to show for their perilous adventure. But if they survived the fighting, those dents would always be looked upon as marks of approval; just as a veteran’s wounds give him cause for personal pride.
Several more of the crew had been injured by shrapnel bursting overhead; for the enemy tried by every means in his power to damage the vessels, and those who manned them.
An officer, seeing that the boys were standing in a very exposed position, came, and with the compliments of the Vice-Admiral invited them to change to a place where they would at least be safe from this overhead peril. They were not slow to accept, for neither of them cared to be reckless while so many missiles of death were flying through the air.
They had one opportunity to witness the result of the gunfire aboard the battleship. A shell burst amidst a copse ashore two miles away, and they distinctly saw men being hurled into the air, as well as parts of a dismantled cannon. A hearty cheer from the whole crew told what they thought of that shot.
“Look at that destroyer shooting along, Jack!” suddenly called out Amos, pointing as he spoke to a slender vessel of great speed that was flying with the grace of a swallow past the battleship.
“There’s something up, as sure as you live!” suggested Jack, immediately deeply interested.
“She seems to be heading right up the straits, and acts as if they meant to try and run through the Narrows yonder,” Amos suggested.
“Oh, hardly that!” Jack told him. “There wouldn’t be one chance in ten she could run the batteries on the shore in that narrow part of the straits. They’d sink her with their smaller guns; but even if she did get through, of what use would she be in the Sea of Marmora, with the Turkish fleet to reckon with?”
“But see how she still keeps flying on, Jack, as if she had wings. I never saw such speed before with any kind of boat. What can be the object of it all, do you think?”
“I expect it’s what I spoke about a while ago, Amos. She has been sent out to serve as a floating target for the concealed batteries of the Turks.”
“What colossal nerve!” cried Amos, almost holding his breath as he watched the swift progress of the destroyer. “She offers herself as atarget for all the guns they can bring to bear on her. The chances are three to one they’ll never come back again after making the circuit.”
“Those aboard have their orders, and they’ll carry them out despite all the Turkish guns within ten miles. They may go down, but if, by sacrificing themselves, they show up one or two hidden batteries that can be destroyed by the battleships, they will have died gloriously, like thousands of others of their kind have done since the days of the Spanish armada.”
Thrilled by the spectacle of valor exhibited by the crew of the little destroyer, the two lads stood and kept their eyes riveted on the flitting boat. They could not remember the time when they had felt such a deep interest in anything. When presently the first shell exploded near the destroyer Amos gave a cry of alarm.
“Oh, that was a close shave, let me tell you, Jack!” he exclaimed. “I wonder if the brave commander or any of his crew could have been killed, or seriously wounded by that shell. And, Jack, doesn’t the destroyer look sort of familiarto you? I honestly believe it’s the very same boat we were on last night.”
“That would be hard to say,” his chum explained, “because most of them are built along similar models, and it would be easy to mistake one for another. You can see a dozen of the scout-boats right now inside the straits. But that particular one has for some reason been picked for this daring game of drawing the fangs of the enemy, by tempting the gunners in their hidden batteries to take a chance.”
“Whoever the commander is I take off my hat to him,” asserted Amos, suiting the action to the word.
“Oh! it strikes me that bravery is becoming mighty common these days, Amos. Already there have been dozens of astonishing feats carried out on both sides that make those stories in history look pretty poor.”
“That’s right,” said Amos, “tell me what is there in Leonidas and his three hundred deathless Spartans holding the pass of Thermopylæ beside some of the things that are happening allaround us every day, what with these fearless aviators, the men who go down under the ocean in submarines, and those who laugh at death, like the crew of that destroyer are doing this very minute?”
“I’m hoping they get through all right, after all,” Jack wished. “You can see that by now they’ve reached the last Allied warship. Still they keep right on, changing their course constantly so that the white bubbles in their wake look like a snake. There, did you hear that shot from the shore? I can see the smoke, but there isn’t a sign of a cannon in sight. I reckon that was a time when the destroyer got a bite.”
Hardly had his last word been spoken than there was a mighty crash. TheThundererhad sent her compliments at the Turkish shore battery so cleverly hidden, and the location of which had been revealed by that one incautious shot.