CHAPTER XXIV
The Chase of the Felucca
"Strange sail bearing N.N.E. seven miles: No. 0916 will proceed and investigate." This was the reading of a signal hoisted on the Fleetwing within four hours of the destruction of the submarine.
The sea-plane carrier and her convoy had now entered the southern limits of the AEgean Sea. Broad on the port quarter could be discerned the rugged outlines of the Grecian peninsula, while ahead were the distant Cyclades, a veritable jumble of small islands, most of which are well-known names in ancient history, when Greece was Greece—a resolute and hardy nation compared with which the modern Greek nation is as clay in relation to steel.
It was now towards Milos, the nearmost of these islands, that a small felucca-rigged craft was making. Had she held on her former course, which was N.N.W., she might not have aroused the suspicions of the Fleetwing's officer of the watch; but on sighting the lofty hull of the sea-plane carrier the felucca had promptly hauled to the wind. That in itself was a strange manoeuvre, since the wind was in a quarter that enabled her to have a leading breeze on her former course.
"Let her rip!" ordered Osborne, addressing the motor engineer-artificer. "We want to get this job over before dark, if possible. I suppose," he added in an aside to his chum, "it's only another wild-goose chase."
"We're generally lucky," rejoined Webb the optimist. "However, I shouldn't think that yonder craft is likely to cause trouble. My word, isn't she footing it!"
The last sentence referred to the patrol-boat, which was now cleaving the tranquil waters at a knot above the contract speed. Her powerful motors had been running sufficiently to enable them to be "tuned up" to perfection. She was overhauling the felucca hand over fist.
Upon seeing the unwanted motor craft approach, the sailing vessel, knowing that escape by flight was out of the question, fell off on her former course, at the same time hoisting her colours. By the aid of their binoculars Osborne and Webb made the simultaneous discovery that the felucca was a Greek—or at any rate that was the nationality she wished to assume for the present.
"By Jove, they're heaving something overboard!" declared the Sub. "I distinctly saw splashes under her counter. Wonder if they are mines?"
"I'm sorry for those fellows if that is the case," said Osborne grimly. "At any rate, if we don't follow in her wake we're safe enough. Other questions dealing with the matter will be tackled later."
Apparently the crew of the felucca were particularly anxious for the objects they had thrown overboard to sink; for, finding that a couple of almost waterlogged bales were floating astern, one of the men leapt overboard and slashed furiously at them with a knife. Then, his task accomplished, finding that he could not overtake the sailing craft, he struck out for the distant shore.
"Think he'll do it?" enquired Webb. "It's a fearful long way."
"Yes, I do," replied Osborne. "These Levanters are splendid swimmers, and the sea is particularly warm. He's good for ten miles, I should say. However, on second thoughts, I think we'll pick him up, and then devote our attentions to the felucca."
The swimmer, finding that the patrol-boat had altered helm and was heading in his direction, took in the situation most philosophically. Treading water he awaited the approach of his captors, and, grasping a rope thrown to him, swarmed on board with the greatest agility.
"Me think you German ship," he explained nonchalantly.
As he stood dripping on the deck his face was towards the setting sun. On the other hand, the two officers who were confronting him were standing back to the dazzling light.
"Oh, indeed!" rejoined Osborne, signing to two of the crew to stand by. "German ship? No, you won't get me to swallow that yarn, Georgeos Hymettus."
At the sound of his name the Greek started violently, and made an attempt to throw himself overboard. In this he nearly succeeded. For, as he had divested himself of his clothing as far as the waist in order to swim the better, his wet skin afforded little hold. After a brief yet furious struggle he was secured and taken below.
By this time the felucca was less than two cables' lengths ahead. Her crew must have observed the struggle on the patrol-boat's deck. Without waiting to be hailed, they promptly lowered the huge lateen sails and awaited their captor's approach.
"Now what's all this running-away business about?" enquired the Lieutenant, addressing a gaudily dressed Greek who was evidently the skipper. "Where are your papers? Where's your passenger list? I find you had a passenger," he added significantly.
The master disappeared into a small deck-house abaft the mainmast. Webb, revolver in hand, followed.
Meanwhile the two dozen ruffianly-looking fellows who formed the felucca's crew—she carried an unusually large complement—had gone for'ard, and were standing in a group around the primitive windlass. Amidships were Osborne and two of the patrol-boat's crew. Two more were standing on No. 0916's deck, fending her off with boat-hooks. The remaining members of the crew were down below in the motor-room.
Suddenly the muffled report of a revolver shot rang out, and a moment later Webb reappeared, holding the still smoking revolver, and with his left hand clasped firmly against his mouth. He was gasping heavily, while his eyes were twitching with pain. By his movements his chum saw that he was incapable of seeing.
"This way, Tom!" shouted Osborne. He could not go to the aid of his chum, for, with the report of the pistol shot, the rest of the crew of the felucca made a concerted rush upon the handful of British. Flourishing their knives and uttering wild yells, in the hope of striking terror into the breasts of their numerically inferior antagonists, they came tearing aft, headed by a tall, broad-shouldered man brandishing an automatic pistol.
Osborne and his men stood their ground. But for the fact that Webb had been temporarily rendered incapable, they would have retired to the deck of the patrol-boat, sheered off, and made good use of their quick-firers. Until the Sub's rescue was assured, his comrades had to make good their front.
An excellent shot from Osborne's revolver brought the mate of the felucca sprawling on his face. Three others of the crew were stopped by the British fire, but even then the rush was maintained, two of the Greeks making in the direction of the hapless Sub, who was groping towards his comrades.
With a bound Osborne gained Webb's side, grasping his shoulder with his left hand. At the same time he dropped one of the Sub's two assailants, while the other, making no further attempt to close, hurled his knife with deadly precision at the Lieutenant.
Stepping adroitly aside, Osborne missed the glittering blade by a hair's-breadth. The missile, sinking a couple of inches into the hardwood tiller, quivered like a twanged harp-string. Simultaneously Webb's revolver dropped from his grasp.
To retreat, leaving the weapon for the use of the enemy, was to court disaster. Since Osborne could not stoop to recover it without running grave risks of being taken unawares, he kicked the revolver overboard, and, still holding Webb's shoulder, dragged the unresisting Sub to the side.
Here the two seamen were still holding their own, though hardly pressed. One, bleeding from a clean cut in the left shoulder, had already accounted for three of his assailants. His revolver being empty, he had snatched at a knife that was sticking in the bulwarks. His companion, using his weapon with deadly skill and precision, had disabled four before the hammer clicked ineffectually upon the empty chamber.
Grasped by the coxswain of the patrol-boat, Webb was hauled unceremoniously on board his own craft. Now remained the task of the rest of the boarding-party, to regain the deck of No. 0916 without giving the felucca's men a chance of rushing them during the retrograde movement.
At this critical juncture the bowman of the patrol-boat created a diversion. Taking a turn with the bight of a rope in order to hold the two vessels, the seaman sprang to the felucca's deck, brandishing the gun-metal-tipped boat-hook. Under the formidable blows dealt by the hefty bluejacket, the Greeks went down like ninepins. Knives were as nought when opposed to the powerfully wielded pole of ash. Heads were cracked like egg-shells, arms snapped like match-sticks, and shin-bones broken like glass under the shower of blows. Even in his work of self-defence Osborne could not help admiring the business-like work of his stalwart coxswain.
The struggle was over. Osborne, well-nigh breathless with his exertions, was compelled to lean against the wall of the deck-house. Those of the seamen who had come out of the ordeal practically unscathed, busied themselves by collecting the knives of the vanquished crew of the felucca, and securing the treacherous Greeks who had not been reduced to a state of unconsciousness or helplessness. One by one the prisoners were passed below into the recesses of the felucca's hold, the hatches were clapped on, and the British white ensign hoisted in place of the mercantile flag of a treacherous and effete nation.
By this time darkness was on the point of setting in. The short period of twilight was giving place to intense darkness, for there was no moon and the stars were obscured by opaque clouds. The Fleetwing and the rest of the patrol-boats were already lost to sight.
Having recovered his breath, the Lieutenant went on board No. 0916. He found Webb lying on deck, his head supported by a bundle of sailcloth, and one of the bluejackets bathing his face with sea-water.
"How goes it, old man?" enquired Osborne.
"Better now," replied 'Webb, striving somewhat ineffectually to force a smile. "That brute suddenly threw something in my face—ammonia, I fancy. Just had time to fire my revolver, and then I found myself gasping for breath. Felt as if my throat was gripped by pincers, and my eyes were completely bunged up. Yes, thanks, I can see, but it's still mighty painful. How's the Greek skipper?"
"Dead as a bloomin' door-nail, sir," volunteered the seaman who was assiduously attending to the injured Sub. "You plugged him properly, sir. Served the swine right, I'll allow."
"S'pose so," admitted Webb. "I wonder what it was that those fellows hove overboard?"
"I wonder," rejoined Osborne. "We may find out yet, especially as we have our old pal Georgeos Hymettus laid by the heels. Well, old man, excuse me; I've a lot to attend to."
And Osborne spoke without exaggeration. Here he was, with some of his scanty crew disabled, with a prize on his hands, and out of touch with his parent ship, while in addition it was black night with a dangerous and badly charted shore under his lee. It was "up to him" to extricate his command from the difficulties that beset her, and with characteristic grit and determination Osborne set about his task.