The Fight for Constantinople Part 31

"Whatever are those fellows up to?" enquired Farnworth, as two more sh.e.l.ls, fired in quick succession, burst far inland.

"They're giving their friends a taste of their own pills," replied d.i.c.k. "It's great! They've mistaken the troops for our men."

Such indeed was the case, for the search-light was slowly yet surely following the retreating, panic-stricken Turkish soldiers, while sh.e.l.l after sh.e.l.l hurtled towards the fugitives as fast as the gun could be discharged.

Suddenly came the report of a double concussion--so quickly that the detonations sounded as a single crash. Then came another.

"By Jove! The skipper is tackling the patrol-boat with our little anti-aircraft gun!" exclaimed Farnworth.

Once more the midshipman was right in his surmise. Taking advantage of the darkness, rendered doubly baffling to the Turks on the patrol-boat owing to the contrast afforded by the search-light, the Lieutenant-Commander of "E--" had boldly brought his craft within close range of the enemy craft.

He knew the risk. One shot from the Ottoman quick-firer would send the submarine to the bottom like a stone. On the other hand, the patrol-boat was nothing more than an old iron tug, on which a light quick-firer had been mounted. Formidable enough when operating against troops unprovided with guns, the Turkish craft was vulnerable even to the smallest quick-firer.

Taken completely by surprise as the first British sh.e.l.l played havoc with her bridge and search-light projector, the patrol circled in a vain endeavour to escape. A second sh.e.l.l ripped a large hole in her water-line, causing her to reel violently and commence to list heavily to starboard.

Only once did the patrol-boat attempt to reply to the devastating sh.e.l.l-fire of the submarine: but the missile, hastily and badly aimed, flew wide, exploding a couple of thousand yards away.

Huxtable's reply was to send a sh.e.l.l crashing against the frail shield of the Turkish gun. The explosion did its work thoroughly, for the gun crew were wiped out and the weapon dismounted.

Twenty seconds later, so destructive had been the effect of the sh.e.l.l upon the compartmentless hull of the craft, the patrol-boat disappeared beneath the surface, her boilers exploding with tremendous violence as she did so.

"Hurrah! She's done for!" exclaimed Farnworth excitedly.

As he spoke a light blinked from the submarine. Huxtable was about to send a message to the landing-party. Since they were unable to signal in return to say that they were ready, the Lieutenant-Commander waited for a brief interval, then began to flash the message.

"Return at once. Am waiting to pick you up."

Crosthwaite promptly obeyed the order. Unmolested his men marched to the pier-head. Deeply laden, the two boats pushed off and rowed slowly towards the submarine, on which a lantern was displayed to enable them to locate her position.

"Help! Aid me!" shouted a voice in broken English, before the boats had covered half the distance between the sh.o.r.e and the "E--".

A violent splashing in the phosph.o.r.escent water, followed by reiterated appeals for aid, caused d.i.c.k to steer the canvas boat in the direction of the commotion. A seaman in Turkish uniform was swimming for dear life. His strength was fast failing him, and it seemed impossible that he could hold out long enough to reach the sh.o.r.e. With his remaining energies he grasped the gunwale of the frail Berthon and hung on desperately.

"Don't take him on board," ordered d.i.c.k, as one of the seamen grasped the Turk by the collar. "You'll upset us if you do; but hold on to him."

The Sub's first intention was to return, towing the man into shallow water, and there let him shift for himself. On second thoughts he remembered that his orders to return to the submarine with the utmost dispatch were peremptory. However undesirable it was to take a prisoner on board, in addition to the rescued men of the _Hammerer's_ whaler, his humane feelings would not allow him to refuse aid to his enemy.

"Give way!" ordered d.i.c.k.

The men bent to their oars. The Sub steered for the now discernible "E--", while the Turk, held in the iron grip of his rescuer, was ignominiously towed through the water.

"All present, sir!" reported Crosthwaite.

"Any casualties?" enquired Huxtable anxiously.

"Three, sir."

The Lieutenant-Commander looked worried. The interior of a submarine is no place for a wounded man. There was no medical attention available. The sufferers had to rely solely upon the rough yet good-natured attentions of their comrades. Nevertheless Huxtable had good cause to congratulate himself and his subordinate upon the result of the operations. Not only had a hostile craft been sunk, but all the survivors of the _Hammerer's_ landing-party had been rescued.

And yet the business was far from being accomplished. A tedious wait--at least a nerve-racking ordeal--had to be followed by the return dash through the mine-strewn Dardanelles.

CHAPTER XX

Saving the Old "Hammerer"

"Effendi, I speak truth. It is not my wish that I fight the English."

"How came you to speak English?" demanded Huxtable.

The examination of the rescued Turkish sailor was in progress. The man had recovered from the effects of the explosion and his subsequent exposure in the water. He was tall, lithe, olive-featured, and of an open countenance.

"I have served in English ship: one that traded between Smyrna and Malta, effendi," he replied. "My name it is Osman Kosmoli. I am an Armenian and a Christian."

"Eh?" interrupted the Lieutenant-Commander incredulously. "A Christian? I thought Christians were not allowed to serve in the Ottoman navy."

"Before the war, no; after the war, yes," replied Kosmoli composedly.

"So long as a man he is a sailor it no matter. I no want to fight.

They make me. I thank effendi for saving my life," and he bowed his head at d.i.c.k, who was sitting by the side of the Lieutenant-Commander.

Crosthwaite thrust his hand into his coat pocket and produced the doc.u.ment that von Eitelheimer had vainly endeavoured to induce him to sign.

"Then tell me what this means," he said.

The Armenian took the paper and read it slowly to himself. His eyebrows contracted as he did so.

"Bad, very bad!" he exclaimed.

"Read it aloud," ordered d.i.c.k.

It was another example of German perfidy, purporting to be a declaration expressing extreme disapproval of the Allies' operations against the Turks. It was a bogus confession to the effect that the British and French were guilty of deliberate acts against the Moslem religion, and that the avowed object of their expedition was to stamp out Mohammedanism in the Near East.

"A thundering good job you didn't sign it," remarked Huxtable. "The doc.u.ment would have been photographically reproduced and distributed broadcast throughout Persia, Egypt, Afghanistan, and India with the object of inciting the Mohammedan populace."

"What was to prevent von Eitelheimer from forging my signature?" asked d.i.c.k.

"He could have done so," admitted the Lieutenant-Commander, "but it wouldn't be quite the same thing. If you and young Farnworth had signed it and stated your rank, the signatures could not very well be disputed by our own people. They would naturally conclude that the autographs, if genuine, were obtained by fraud, but that is not the point. Ten to one von Eitelheimer, had you agreed to sign, would have made some excuse to have Turkish personages of high standing to witness the attestation. A doc.u.ment like that would cause no end of religious ferment amongst the Moslem world. Now, you see, we have evidence to prove that the Germans are at the root of the business, and I hope you will be able to hand the doc.u.ment personally to the Admiral for transmission to the proper authorities. By Jove, Crosthwaite! it has nipped a dangerous conspiracy in the bud."

"I'd like to have a few words with von Eitelheimer on the subject, sir," declared d.i.c.k.

"You may some day: you never know your luck," rejoined Huxtable oracularly.

At last the time-limit expired, and the "E--" was at liberty to attempt her hazardous return voyage. All hands knew that the perils which beset them were far greater than those they had successfully evaded on the run to Constantinople; for it was now practically impossible to creep through the Dardanelles. With a six- or seven-knot current bearing the submarine along, in addition to the "way" necessary to keep the craft under helm control, there was imminent risk of charging one of the hundreds of anch.o.r.ed mines before steps could be taken to avoid it; while should the submarine run aground the impact would inevitably shatter her hull.

Huxtable essayed the task in broad daylight. It was just possible, by keeping a sharp look-out and making quick use of the helm, to detect the presence of the moorings of these destructive weapons of modern warfare.