"And our casualties?"
"Mr. Webb wounded, Mr. Haynes wounded slightly. Five men killed and nine wounded, and——"
"And——?" repeated Captain M'Bride.
"Laddie missing, sir," continued Osborne.
CHAPTER XII
The Turkish Biplane
A week passed. Although the Portchester Castle was far from being inactive, the result of almost continuous patrol work amongst the islands of the AEgean Sea produced nothing in the nature of the capture or destruction of a hostile craft. There had been numerous false alarms; suspicious vessels had been chased, overhauled and boarded, only to find that their papers were in thorough order and their cargoes of a non-contraband nature; wild-goose expeditions had been carried out in search of imaginary petrol depots—all of which were most disappointing. The only redeeming feature of the business was that the presence of a strong fleet of patrolling craft tended to curtail the enemy's activities. The mere knowledge that the approaches to the Dardanelles were closely watched, acted as a deterrent both to the Turkish torpedo craft and the German submarines that had been sent hither, in a vain attempt to drive the Allied fleets from the open water of the Mediterranean and to stifle the merchant shipping of that inland sea.
Before the expiration of those seven days Sub-lieutenant Tom Webb was reported fit for duty. Thanks to clean living and a robust constitution, he made rapid progress under the skilful care of the ship's doctor. His regret for Osborne's loss was almost equal to that of Laddie's master.
The latter was badly hit by the catastrophe. Although he gave little outward sign of his grief, he felt the loss of his pet acutely.