Torpedoed
"Like hare and hounds, sir," said Farnworth with a forced laugh. "A quarter of an hour's start, and then look out."
"Less than that, I'm afraid," rejoined Dick. "Those fellows won't be long in arming and turning out. We'll take the lowermost terrace. They won't expect to find us there, for naturally they'll think we've scurried towards the higher ground. All we've got to do for the present is to evade those two chaps we saw perched up on the ledge—unless they've been warned."
The fugitives hurried without exchanging further words, keeping close to the cliff so as to escape the attention of the German officers whom they had seen smoking cigars and leisurely surveying the scenery.
Presently Dick pointed upwards. The midshipman nodded. They were immediately underneath the unsuspecting Teutons. Just at that moment half a dozen German seamen from the submarine appeared, advancing in extended order.
Crouching, the fugitives continued their way, but before they had traversed another twenty yards an irregular volley rang out.
"They've spotted us," gasped Farnworth.
The next instant the Sub saw two grey-coated forms hurtling through the air. With a sickening crash they fell almost at the feet of the British officers. The Germans had brought down their luckless fellow-countrymen, who, ignorant of what had happened, had been taken to be the escaped prisoners in their disguise as Teutonic officers in the Ottoman service.
"Cut for it," whispered Dick. "They can't see us from the road. We've another chance."
Both men, bending low, doubled along the terrace till a projecting crag separated them from the scene of the blunder. On and on they ran till they reached the defile that cut through the series of ledges. Fifty feet beneath them was cover in plenty, but every inch of that distance seemed as smooth as a brick wall. It was equally impossible to ascend to the next terrace, for the whole of the last quarter of a mile the cliff assumed an almost perpendicular aspect and was absolutely unclimbable.
"Look, sir!" exclaimed Farnworth, pointing to the road.
Almost abreast of where they stood were three magnificent horses, held by a ferocious-looking Turkish cavalryman. At this point the ground shelved gradually. It would be a comparatively easy matter to gain the road, but the difficulty was that farther along the track was the Ottoman cavalry escort.
"We must risk it," declared the Sub. "It's touch and go."
Boldly leaving their place of concealment and descending the slope, the two fugitives approached the Turkish soldier. The man, knowing nothing of what was taking place at the seaward end of the valley, stiffly saluted the supposed German officers, and when they clambered awkwardly into the saddles he offered no objection, although his face showed unbounded surprise as he was left with only one horse in his charge.
Obediently the captured steeds broke into a canter. Perhaps it was well that they did not gallop, for both officers were indifferent horsemen. Like most seamen they could hold on to practically anything, so they stuck to the saddles and resisted the involuntary inclination to be pitched off into the dusty road.
"Now for it," muttered Dick, as a sharp bend in the mountain path brought them in sight of the mounted rear-guard.
It was an anxious thirty seconds, but before the Turkish irregulars could penetrate the deception the two British officers were through and heading towards the open country.
"BEFORE THE TURKISH IRREGULARS COULD PENETRATE THE
DECEPTION THE TWO BRITISH OFFICERS WERE THROUGH"
"Enough!" gasped Dick after cantering another two miles. "We'll abandon the gee-gees and trust to our legs. We wouldn't stand a ghost of a chance when those fellows are ordered in pursuit."
Almost pulling their steeds upon their haunches they dismounted, and reluctantly administering a sharp cut with the flat of their scabbards upon the animals that had served them so well, sent them galloping madly in the opposite direction to that of the convoy.
Then, taking a course almost at right angles to the road, the fugitives were soon deep in a scrub-covered expanse of undulating ground.
"A good start," ejaculated Dick breathlessly. "By the time they've discovered their mistake over those two German officers and have explained matters to the Turks, we ought to be well on our way to Kum Kale."
"Twenty-four hours, they said, before the submarine puts to sea, sir," remarked Farnworth. "We ought to do it well before that time."
"I hope so," added the Sub. "By Jove! It will be a serious matter if we don't."
Once more night was drawing on apace, yet, in their ardour to warn their comrades of an unexpected peril, they gave no thought to fatigue. Guided by the stars, the Sub shaped a course which he reckoned would bring them within the district supposed to be held by the French Expeditionary Force. By daylight they should be well within sight of Kum Kale.
"Steady!" cautioned Dick, as they commenced to descend a steep declivity. "I fancy we're close to the sea again."
"I certainly can hear surf," declared the midshipman.
"So much the better unless the coast is very much indented," added the Sub. "We can't be so very far from Yenikeui."
"Hope the Turks aren't there in force, like they were last time, sir."
"Not much fear of that. More than likely we'll stumble across a French outpost."
Down and down they went, till Dick felt certain they had descended nearly five hundred feet. At some distance in front of them rose another line of hills—the last natural barrier before they reached the historic Plains of Troy.
Suddenly the midshipman's foot caught in the exposed root of a gnarled and dwarfed tree, and with a stifled exclamation he pitched upon his hands and knees.
"Halt! Who goes there?" demanded a voice in unmistakable English, so close that the Sub nearly ran upon the point of a bayonet that glittered in the starlight.
"Friends," replied the Sub promptly.
"Maybe," retorted the sentry. "All the same, blessed if I likes the cut of your rig. So hands up, and no blessed fuss or I'll fire."
Obediently Dick raised his grey-sleeved arms, while the midshipman, regaining his feet, followed his example. Then a second figure joined the first, and a torch flashed upon the faces of the two officers.
"Germans, by smoke!" exclaimed the first sentry. "Bloomin' officers, too. I'll take good care these fellows don't give me the slip."
"Bluejackets!" ejaculated the Sub.
"Stow your bloomin' lip," ordered the sentry menacingly.
Dick complied, mentally picturing the seaman's confusion when the identity of the supposed prisoners was established.
In a few seconds half a dozen bluejackets, headed by a sub-lieutenant, appeared on the scene.
"What have we here, Jenkins?" asked the officer.
"Germans, sir. Strolled right on top of me bayonet."
"Good! March them in. I'll question them when we get them on board."
"One minute," expostulated Dick.
"Eh—what's that? You speak English," exclaimed the officer.
"Rather—I am a British officer, and so is my companion."
"Keep off it—bloomin' cheek," interposed the man who had held up the supposed Germans.
"Silence, there!" rapped out the Sub-lieutenant sternly.
Dick gave his name and rank, and that of his brother officer.
"But be sharp and take us on board," he added. "You'll have to send an urgent message to the Admiral. It's a matter of extreme importance."
The sense of caution was deep within the mind of the Sub in charge of the landing-party; and although he complied with Dick's request to hasten, he took good care to have the two grey-uniformed men surrounded by armed seamen until he reached the shore of a creek.
Here, lying about a cable's length off, was a submarine of the "E" type. She was almost awash, her hatches being open, while a skeleton-like framework extended over her contour from bow to stern.
Five minutes later the rescued officers found themselves within the hull of the vessel, where they were quickly able to establish their identity, and the Lieutenant-Commander's face grew grave as he listened to their narrative.
"A 'U' boat in these waters!" he remarked. "Well, I'm not altogether surprised. Luckily, I'm in an independent command, so we'll see if 'dog won't eat dog'. I'll go for her, by Jove! I suppose you could recognize the creek?"
"It's less than twenty miles sou'-east by south, I should think," replied Dick. "Of course I haven't seen the place from seaward, but I think I could spot it."
"Strange!" exclaimed the Lieutenant-Commander when he had introduced himself as Aubrey Huxtable. "I cannot see any opening shown on this chart."
"It would be about there," said Dick, pointing to a position where the coast-line presented an unbroken front. "The mountains on either side are shown, so I feel fairly certain about it."
"Very good; we'll proceed at once," declared Huxtable. "I'd send a wireless to the Hammerer announcing your safety, only it would be too risky."
"Exactly what the commander of the 'U' boat said," added the Sub. "Well, after six weeks of it, a few hours more won't hurt."
"Say thirty-six," corrected Huxtable; "that is, unless you have strong reasons for not accompanying us. We were just about to start for a jaunt up the Dardanelles; that is the reason for this gadget," and he indicated the curved latticed girder above his head.
"An idea of mine," continued the Lieutenant-Commander. "It may work all right. The armourer's crew of the Tremendous rigged it up. You can see the overhead girder. There are others—one on each side, and at present seven feet below the water-line, and at a minimum distance of eighteen feet from the hull. All three meet at a point bow and stern."
"A kind of rigid crinoline," suggested Dick.
"Precisely. The idea is that if we encounter mines these steel rods will push the cables attached to the sinkers clear of us. Also, if the Turks had laid mines in pairs connected by a horizontal bridle, as I fancy they have, these guides will lift the obstruction clear of the housed periscope or any projection on deck."
"And if the mine explodes?"
The Lieutenant-Commander shrugged his brawny shoulders.
"That remains to be seen. For my part, I fancy that a cushion of water eighteen feet between the point of explosion and the side of our craft will considerably neutralize its effect. My governor was on the staff on the Vernon when they experimented with the old Resistance in Portchester Creek. He told me most emphatically that a torpedo exploded electrically alongside her extended torpedo-nets did no material damage to the hull. In fact, all the damage caused by the explosion was the unshipping of one bracket of the booms and a rent in the mesh of the nets. So I've pinned my faith on my device, and we are going to test it. Of course, if you wish to be put aboard——"
"Not at all," protested Dick. "I'm perfectly game."
"And young Farnworth?"
"Better ask him, sir," replied Crosthwaite.
Calling the midshipman to him, the skipper briefly outlined his plans and made him a similar offer.
"Only too glad of the opportunity, sir," declared Farnworth, his eyes glistening at the prospect of a daring piece of work.
"I'm glad of it," rejoined the Lieutenant-Commander. "Having completed our fit-up, I was not keen on displaying it to the eyes of the fleet. I'd rather wait until it has proved its merits. Well, we are ready to start. We'll submerge to ten feet, and if you'll stand by, Mr. Crosthwaite, and help me to con her into this secret lair, I'll be everlastingly grateful."
"How do you propose to attack—by gunfire or torpedo?" enquired Dick.
"Oh, torpedo, by all means. Let the Germans know that we can use the 'tinfish' whenever we get something worth going for."
The crew were now at their diving-stations.
Calmly and distinctly the Lieutenant-Commander gave his orders, and with a barely perceptible tilt the submarine dived till the gauge registered the required distance.
It was still dark. Through the periscope, only the rugged outlines of the shore were visible. Distance has to be estimated by the apparent height of the land; while steering a compass course the submerged vessel simply groped along, with her extended periscope rising clear of the turtle-back girder and showing less than two feet above the surface.
"We ought not to be far from the spot now," remarked the skipper after an hour had elapsed. "Do you make anything of it?"
Dick, who had borrowed a razor from an obliging officer and had removed his moustache and stubbly beard, was carefully examining the image in the object-bowl of the periscope. It revealed a seemingly unbroken coast, backed by two lofty mountains, one of which was serrated on its western side.
"That's the place," declared the Sub. "Those ridges are the terraces where we played a novel game of hide-and-seek. That hummock is where the Germans posted a sentry. The entrance is about a cable's length to the left of it."
"Very good; we'll close the shore a bit," said the Lieutenant-Commander; and signing to the quartermaster to starboard the helm till the vessel was eight points off her former course, he ordered speed to be reduced to five knots.
"It's a lucky job there are no currents in this part," commented the skipper. "By Jove, what a hole! and I thought I knew every yard of the coast between Kum Kale and Smyrna."
As the British submarine approached the shore the narrow entrance began to show itself in the form of a gap in the cliffs, backed by the high ground surrounding the inlet. Owing to the submarine's slow speed her periscope hardly made a ripple on the placid surface, yet officers and men were on thorns lest the German look-out would detect the phosphorescent swirl as the vertical metal tube forged gently through the water.
"Let's hope there isn't a bar here," muttered the skipper.
The words were hardly out of his mouth when a dull, rasping sound announced the unpleasant fact that the submarine was scraping over the shingly bottom. To reverse the motors to back off the ledge would mean instant detection.
Ten seconds of breathless suspense followed. During that time the submerged craft was still forging ahead, till without losing way she slid into deep water. She was safely within the secret haven.
"By Jove, I've got her! There she is!" exclaimed the Lieutenant-Commander.
It was now dawn, with sufficient light to discern the outlines of the unterseeboot. She had warped out from her inshore berth, and was now lying at anchor in about the same position as when Dick had first discovered her. Her deck was showing about two feet above the surface. Alongside was the Berthon boat with two men on board. On the submarine the only signs of life were a couple of seamen patrolling the limited extent of deck.
"Stand by—both tubes," ordered the Lieutenant-Commander. He was determined to take no risks of a miss.
The twenty-one-inch gleaming steel cylinders, set to the minimum depth, were already in the tubes. The torpedo gunner and his mate were grimly alert, grasping the ball-ended levers that were to liberate the charge of compressed air.
Slowly, ever so slowly, the British submarine swung to starboard, until her skipper knew that the fixed tubes were pointed straight towards their quarry.
"Ready—fire starboard!"
With a hiss as the air, hitherto compressed to two hundred pounds to the square inch, rushed from its compression chamber, the deadly missile sped on its way. Beyond the swish of the inrushing water that was automatically admitted to compensate the loss of weight caused by the speeding torpedo, not a sound broke the deadly stillness pervaded the interior of the submarine.
Four seconds later a dull roar betokened the fact that one torpedo was sufficient for the work of destruction.
"Blow main ballast tank," ordered the skipper.
No need for caution now. The victor could appear on the surface with impunity. She rose almost vertically, for she had almost lost way. With the water pouring in cascades from her steel deck she flung herself free from the encircling embrace of the sea, and curtsied to the morning air.
Hatches were quickly opened, and officers and men rushed on deck to see with their own eyes the result of their successful work.
Already the unterseeboot had vanished for the last time. An ever-widening circle of sullen water heavily tinged with oil, and surmounted by a cloud of pungent smoke that was slowly dispersing in the calm air, marked the spot where the luckless submarine had plunged to the bottom.
The canvas boat was still afloat. Some distance from the point of impact of the torpedo she had withstood the suction of the sinking vessel, and was now bobbing sluggishly to the undulations caused by the rebound of the disturbed water from the sides of the creek. The two German seamen, staring with wide-open eyes as if terrified by the appalling nature of the catastrophe, were crouching in the Berthon, while through the oil-spread water a third man was laboriously swimming towards her.
"We'll let them go," decided the skipper. "They can tell their pals of the convoy that their second journey is for nothing. Besides, under forthcoming conditions, we have no room for prisoners of war."
"There's another bloke, sir," sung out one of the crew. "He's pretty nigh done for, I'll allow."
The Lieutenant-Commander looked in the direction indicated. A fourth member of the complement of the ill-starred unterseeboot swimming listlessly and aimlessly. He was apparently in the last stages of exhaustion, and although his plight was observed by the men in the canvas boat, either they were too callous or too stunned by the after-effects of the catastrophe to attempt to row to his assistance.
"Is there plenty of water, Mr. Crosthwaite?" asked the skipper.
"Plenty, sir."
"Easy ahead," ordered Huxtable. "Stand by with a line, men."
Slowly the submarine approached the drowning man. Too much way would not only be a detriment to his rescue, but would hazard the safety of the vessel.
Two coils of rope were hurled at the luckless German, but although both fell almost within arm's length of him he made no effort to grasp them.
"Good heavens!" ejaculated Farnworth, "he's blind."
"He's going!" shouted a man. "If he gets his head under the oil he'll never come up again."
"Bravo!" exclaimed the skipper as a brawny bluejacket kicked off his sea-boots and, without attempting to rid himself of his fearnought coat and sweater, plunged overboard.
A dozen strokes brought him to the wellnigh unconscious Teuton. Seizing the fellow by the collar, his rescuer towed him alongside the submarine, where willing hands hauled both on deck, the German muttering and gibbering incoherently, not knowing whether he was in the hands of friend or foe.
"Lay on your oars!" shouted the Lieutenant-Commander in German to the men in the Berthon, who were now beginning to pull for the shore.
They only redoubled their efforts; and it was not until the submarine overhauled the boat, and ranged up so close that there was not room to swing an oar, that the Germans sullenly obeyed the summons to surrender.
Their astonishment was great when their disabled comrade was carefully lowered into the boat and they were told to push off. Promptly they obeyed, but as soon as they gained the beach the unwounded men leapt out and hastened up the mountain path. Before a projecting rock hid them from sight they stopped and made derisive gestures at their humane foes, then they vanished from sight.
The skipper shrugged his shoulders.
"Kultur," he remarked. "Those are the fellows who, had we been struggling for dear life, would have jeered at our despairing efforts."
"But what can you expect from a navy that has no honourable traditions, sir?" asked Dick.