CHAPTER XXVI
Reunited
"That's all very well," confided Webb, when the destroyer had taken charge of the captured felucca; "but I fancy we'll find out all about our mystery craft. She seemed mighty keen on recapturing our prize. Having, as she thought, driven us off, she paid us no further attention until we pitched into her. It is just possible that her object was to rescue our friend Georgeos Hymettus."
Upon No. 0916's arrival at Mudros, the skilful and dangerous spy was conveyed ashore under a strong guard. Placed upon his trial he made a full and abject confession of his misdeeds. Totally lacking in honour and esprit de corps, he unhesitatingly denounced his accomplices. As an intermediary between the German Government and the Greek king he had caused immense harm to the Allies, apart from the damage done with his assistance by the U-boats in Mediterranean waters. On his escape from Alexandria, Hymettus had undertaken a secret mission on behalf of the so-called Royalist faction of Greece. This was with the idea of dealing a counter-stroke against the Venezelists, who held most of the islands in the Archipelago. Should he fail to accomplish the principal object, he was to furnish a list of names of Greeks favourably inclined to the Allies. This document was found on him when he was rescued from the sea. For safety's sake he had hidden it in a fold of his skirt, for he was in the old national Greek dress when on board the felucca, and unaccountably he had forgotten to destroy the paper during the period of captivity in the patrol-boat's forepeak.
During the court martial it also transpired that the vessel which had attacked Osborne's command and had attempted the recapture of the felucca was the Pyrgos, a steam yacht belonging to a strong adherent to the Germanized royal family of Greece. It was not with the sole desire of rescuing Hymettus that the daring attempt was made. The spy would have been ruthlessly abandoned by his employers but for the fact that he bore incriminating documents. Hence the mysterious tactics of the Pyrgos that had led to her destruction, and to the failure to regain the written evidence of Tino's treachery.
The confession of Georgeos Hymettus did not save his miserable life. Condemned to be shot, the sentence was confirmed and duly carried out—not with the idea of vengeance, but as a deterrent to other cosmopolitan rogues who infest the shores of the Levant.
Two days later, Osborne and Webb were making their way from their temporary shore quarters to the harbour, where they suddenly ran up against Captain M'Bride.
"Well met, Osborne!" exclaimed the genial skipper. "We only arrived last night, and I was on my way to look you up. About that dog of yours. No, don't get excited. What a fellow you are! I have a letter from my chum on the Tarbox, but nothin' doin'. I hear you've been given a command. Well, hearty congratulations!"
"Yes, a patrol-boat," replied the Lieutenant. "She's quite a decent little craft." He was too bashful to refer to his achievement. "We're laid up for repairs. Strained the connecting-rods while we were towing some old hooker. But about Laddie, sir?"
M'Bride gripped Osborne's arm and turned him in the direction of the harbour.
"Come along," he said. "Let's see what we can do by making enquiries of the destroyer flotilla. They've only just arrived from Salonika. And you too, Mr. Webb. I believe you are almost as keen about the animal as Osborne."
Under the lee of the stranded hull of an immense dummy battleship, that was finishing a life of strenuous activity in the utilitarian yet humble capacity of a breakwater, lay seven long, lean destroyers. They had just completed a stretch of duty off the Grecian coast, and, relieved by their "opposite numbers", were about to re-bunker, replenish stores and provisions, and give their crews a well-earned spell of rest.
Alongside the little stone jetty lay Captain M'Bride's gig. Into this the three officers stepped. The men "gave way", and the boat sped towards the nearmost destroyer.
"If that's not your dog it's his double, Osborne," remarked Captain M'Bride, pointing to a large animal that was sedately pacing the diminutive quarter-deck of the destroyer, at the heels of a couple of officers.
"Laddie!" shouted Osborne, oblivious of the fact that he was a subordinate officer in the presence of his former skipper.
"Hold on!" protested Captain M'Bride laughingly. "Do wait till we get alongside. He'll be overboard if we don't."
The warning came too late. Osborne had made no mistake in recognizing his long-lost pet, although he had erred in calling to him.
In a trice Laddie cleared the rail, plunged into the water, and swam vigorously towards the gig.
Steering wide of the swimming animal, Captain M'Bride brought the boat alongside the destroyer, and, literally racing up her short accommodation-ladder, gained the shelter of the quarter-deck.
"Now haul the brute into the boat," he exclaimed. "If he soaks you to the skin, that's your funeral, Osborne, not mine."
The possibility of being drenched never deterred Osborne. Grasping the dog by the scruff of the neck, he hove him over the side into the gig; and the next moment the interested onlookers could hardly distinguish the Lieutenant from the dog, so violently excited were both.
"Your dog, I presume?" explained the destroyer's Lieutenant-commander. "Well, take the brute; he's been a regular nuisance to us for the last two months. Of course, I only say this because I don't mean it, Mr. Osborne. If it were of any use I'd offer you a tenner on the spot."
It was quite evident from Laddie's appearance that he had been well cared for. His coat, in spite of the wetting, was in excellent condition. He had, in fact, been "adopted" by the ship's company, and, although their regret at his departure was undoubted, officers and men realized that Osborne had the higher claim.
"He was discovered trapped in a coal bunker of the captured torpedo-boat," explained the Lieutenant-commander. "Goodness only knows what he was doing there! We thought he was a Turkish dog, so we didn't trouble to report the circumstance. We just adopted him. It was only this morning that Captain M'Bride happened to mention the matter; and, when we told him, he was off on shore like a young hurricane."
"I'm awfully grateful," began Osborne.
"Yes, yes, and we are very, very modest. We don't like being overwhelmed with thanks, my dear fellow. Well, s'long! If you have a chance, bring Laddie on board while we're here. By the by, we called him Mustapha, and we rather wondered why he didn't cotton to it."
"Shows your rotten ignorance, Sefton," said Captain M'Bride in mock reproof. "A fellow who tries to give a Turkish name to a respectable, thoroughbred English sheep-dog deserves to be cashiered. Come along, Osborne; you hardly look dignified in those saturated togs."
"Come and have lunch with us, sir," said Osborne as the gig returned to the quay. "We've fairly snug shore quarters, and I think there's something going."
Captain M'Bride consented, and the three officers set off towards the low, rambling stone building in which Osborne and Webb had taken up their temporary abode.
Their way lay along a narrow and somewhat crowded street of the native quarter. In places the three officers had to make their way in single file, Captain M'Bride leading, Webb coming next, and Osborne bringing up the rear, with Laddie sticking closely to his heels.
Suddenly Webb was jostled violently, his head coming in contact with his former skipper's back. Turning, he found Osborne still staggering from the effect of a blow, while Laddie was at the throat of a ruffianly Greek whose outstretched hand was grasping a glittering knife.