Webb would not have been surprised if, on rounding the entrance, there were signs of activity on shore. A couple of submarines, perhaps, anchored in the seclusion of the creek, and in the act of taking in quantities of fuel. But all was quiet. Not a sound came from the shadowy land; not a light was visible.
The cutter was in the act of turning to port, when from the high ground at the entrance to the creek a rifle-shot rang out, and a bullet whizzed within fifty feet of the boat's bows. There was no mistaking the shot. It was not a chance bullet, but a purposely-made signal.
"Give way, lads!" exclaimed the Sub, all necessity for silence now at an end. Haynes, too, gave the word for his men to pull their hardest, and now, almost neck and neck, the two boats literally tore through the water, greeted by a veritable fusillade from the heights on the left and from the shelving ground ahead.
A stifled cry of pain told Webb that one of the boat's crew had stopped a piece of nickel; but, setting his teeth grimly, the wounded man, despite a bullet wound completely through the left arm, stuck gamely to his oar.
"By Jove!" muttered the young officer as the blinding glare of the first of the unmasked search-lights played fairly upon his eyes, "we're trapped."
Then other rays darted across the surface of the creek, transforming the darkness of the night into a state of brilliance almost approaching that of daylight. A seven-pounder shell, hurtling overhead, exploded a hundred yards astern of the whaler, while, all around the two boats, the water was churned into a series of miniature waterspouts by a hail of bullets.
The British craft did not come off unscathed. Splinters from the ash oars and from the gunwales flew in all directions. Already writhing figures were huddled upon the cutter's bottom-boards, while stifled groans from the whaler told the unpleasant fact that some of her crew had been hit.
"Pull starboard, back port!" ordered Webb. With the opening fire of the Turkish light guns he knew that it would be worse than useless to attempt to carry out the operations. It would only be needlessly sacrificing the lives of the men without the faintest chance of success. All that could be done was to withdraw from the veritable death-trap, if such a course were possible.
The Turks were now using machine-guns, but luckily their aim was bad, for the scythe-like hail of bullets passed harmlessly over the boats. Had the weapons been depressed a mere fraction of an inch, the British would have been wiped out to a man.
Quickly the whaler followed the cutter's example, turning and making for the open sea.