"Let her have it," shouted Osborne, at the same time ordering the helm to be ported ten degrees, in order to bring the steamboat on a slightly converging course with that of the Ottoman torpedo craft, which, by reason of superior speed, was rapidly overtaking the British boat.
The gun-layer of the quick-firer obeyed instantly. With a lurid flash, accompanied by an ear-splitting detonation, the first shell sped on its errand of destruction. Well and truly laid was the gun, for the projectile, striking the lightly armoured conning-tower of the torpedo-boat, literally pulverized it. Five seconds later a second shell, hitting the Turkish craft just abaft the second funnel, played havoc in the engine-room. Columns of steam, gleaming like tarnished silver in the glare of the search-light, poured through the shattered deck, as, listing heavily, the torpedo-boat circled to starboard. Feebly she replied to the steamboat's fire. Momentarily she lost way, for the lucky shot had crippled her engines; while the survivors of her crew on deck, imagining that she was about to founder, or else panic-stricken by the destruction wrought by the shell, threw themselves overboard and began to swim for the shore.
That particular piece of work accomplished—the action had lasted less than a minute—Osborne again steadied the steam cutter on her course to the rescue of the trapped landing party.
CHAPTER X
How the Landing Party Fared
It will now be necessary to set back the hands of the clock, and follow the adventures of Sub-lieutenants Webb and Haynes from the time when the cutter and the whaler parted company with the steamboat.
Tom Webb, being now the senior officer, led the way, steering a compass course, and having to make due allowances for the southerly current from the distant Dardanelles. Only the ripple of the water from the boat's bows, the laboured breathing of the oarsmen, and the creak of the stretchers broke the silence of the night. The muffled oars were admirably handled, not a plash being audible as the blades rose cleanly from the phosphorescent water. The superb pulling of those Royal Naval Reserve men would have evoked praise from the most critical naval officer.
Gradually the shore loomed up nearer and nearer. Progress was slow but sure, for Webb had taken the precaution to reserve the rowers' strength for the final lap. On the port hand the land rose abruptly. To starboard a ledge of jagged rocks stretched seaward; while dead ahead lay a comparatively broad expanse of land-locked water, its extent rendered baffling by the deep reflection cast by the high ground upon the placid surface.
Keeping midway between the entrance points Webb steered straight in. The petrol depot was supposed to be on the port-hand side, on gently shelving ground hidden from seaward by a line of low cliffs.