"Can't be the current," mused Osborne. "That sets southerly from the Dardanelles. Perhaps it's a counter-current, though."
The latter theory was correct. A strong run of water, deflected from the opposite side of the bay, had set the derelict in a totally different direction from the one Osborne had imagined.
"We'll have her, old man," he exclaimed to Haynes. "It will be something to make up for the rotten business. Stand by, bowmen. Out fenders!"
With hardly the faintest bump, for there was no sea on, the steam cutter was brought alongside the abandoned Turkish craft. Although badly damaged about the upper works and hulled several times above the water-line, the latter was still "as tight as a bottle". A couple of hands were placed on board to take the helm, and the cutter, lashed alongside fore and aft, began to gather way. Gradually speed worked up to five knots, as the little captor and her comparatively large prize drew away from the dangerous shore.
Osborne realized that he was not yet "out of the wood". Ahead was a stretch of brilliantly illuminated water, where the search-lights, playing above and over the cliffs, were able to throw direct rays upon the sea. Yet, as the steamboat and her prize entered the light, the Turks refrained from reopening fire. They had spotted the captured torpedo-boat; the steam cutter lashed alongside was hidden from their view by the greater bulk of her capture. They recognized the former as a unit of the Ottoman Navy. She was known to be attempting a run from the Dardanelles to Smyrna; and yet there could only be one reason why she should be proceeding in a westerly direction.
When at length the Turks realized that the torpedo-boat was a prize, they brought every available gun to bear upon her. For several minutes the water all around was churned into columns of foam. Several fragments of shell struck the prize. The steamboat, snugly sheltered under her lee, escaped without further damage. Foiled in their endeavour, the enemy reluctantly ceased fire.
As soon as they were out of range the boat's crew were able to devote themselves to their wounded comrades. For the first time that night a lamp was lighted in the after-cabin.
Tom Webb had recovered consciousness when, having left Haynes in charge, Lieutenant Osborne went below to see how his brother officer and close companion fared.
The Sub's injuries consisted of a painful, though not dangerous, flesh wound in the muscles of the right leg—a nasty laceration caused by one of the sharp spikes of the boom. Webb, in his desperate work, had not noticed the wound until he had attempted to climb over the side of the steamboat. In addition he had a contused wound on the top of his head, although he had no idea of how or when the injury was received.
"I always was noted for my thick skull, Osborne," he remarked, with a rather sorry endeavour to follow out the Scout's maxim of "Keep smiling". "But I'm sorry for what has happened."