Then addressing one of the steamboat's crew he continued: "Get a marline-spike from the tool-chest, Walters; that's right. Now listen. I want you to stand by Laddie. Keep one hand in his collar. At the first sign he makes of barking, hit him as hard as you can over the head. You understand?"
"Yes, sir," replied the man. He was a trustworthy and thoroughly steady-nerved bluejacket, who would not be likely to become "jumpy". Laddie's life, then, was safe in his charge, provided Osborne's pet obeyed his master's instructions.
The Lieutenant resumed his watch. By this time both pulling boats were out of sight, swallowed up in the intense darkness. At intervals he glanced at the luminous dial of his watch. The minutes seemed to drag with a persistency hitherto unknown. Surely the two boats were by this time close to their objective?
Suddenly a flash of reddish light stabbed the darkness, then a galaxy of others—a regular blaze of rifle fires. As the report of the first shot reached the Lieutenant's ears, Osborne leant over the edge of the cabin top.
"You can put that marline-spike down, Walters," he said quietly. Then, leaping into the stern-sheets and snatching up the voice-tube, he gave the order "Full speed ahead".
Even as the steamboat gathered way, half a dozen search-lights were unmasked ashore. Two of the giant beams swung seawards, the rest being directed upon the enclosed water of the creek. At the same time the rattle of musketry was augmented by the deeper bark of quick-firers and the ominous tap-tap-tap of machine-guns.
Instinctively Osborne realized that, far from being a surprise, the landing expedition had been properly ambushed. Treachery had been at work. The Greek who, fortunately, was still detained on board the Portchester Castle had deliberately misled the British. Instead of the operations being directed against a secret petrol depot, the boats found themselves up against a powerful and well-organized system of shore batteries and a strong force of troops to oppose their landing.
Clearly Osborne knew his duty. At all costs the steamboat must dash in and rescue her consorts or perish in the attempt.
Suddenly one of the seaward-directed searchlights swung rapidly past the steam cutter and, hesitating, played fairly upon the hull of a large torpedo-boat that was making at full speed in the direction of Akhissareli.
For a brief instant Osborne hesitated. He knew that British destroyers were in the vicinity, and possibly this was one tearing to the assistance of the Portchester Castle's boats. He dare not make a private signal lest the shore batteries should spot the steamboat's presence. On the other hand, there were two factors that tended to upset the friendly destroyer theory. The Turks ashore had made no attempt to fire upon the approaching craft; her outlines, as shown up by the search-lights, were unfamiliar. As she drew nearer, Osborne knew conclusively that it was a Turkish torpedo-boat, no doubt attempting to run the gauntlet of the Allied fleets.