"Ease in now, boys," ordered Tony as the light grew better. Gently they pulled to the shore.
"That place will do," muttered the observant sub, looking towards a shingly sort of beach beneath some cliffs. The boat grated on the pebbles. They had arrived on their daring mission.
"Now, look here, you boys; you've got to loaf round here for two days. Hide the boat and get into a dug-out. Keep a look-out for me. If I don't come back at the end of the second day, go back and tell them I've gone to Kingdom Come. Understand?"
"All right, boss," said the elder of the Maoris, a full corporal. And off went Tony. He climbed up the cliffs and found himself on a scrubby sort of soil dotted here and there with stunted trees. Away to his right he could just discern the Turkish defences, while immediately in front lay some scattered redoubts of the flanking outposts of the enemy. In the distance was a high, grassy knoll—a perfect place for observing things. He made for it, avoiding contact with some straggling Turkish soldiers on the way. By the way, it is really remarkable how one can walk through an enemy's lines when dressed in their uniform; but it takes a stout heart to do it.
Tony reached the foot of the knoll and commenced to ascend. Just as he reached the top he was startled by a Turk who cried out a greeting. He mumbled something in a boorish style and dropped down in a friendly way beside his man. Before the old Turk realised what was happening he lay dead with a revolver bullet in his brains.
"Phew! What a noise!" muttered Tony as he looked at his victim and then all round the hill to see if the noise had alarmed the land. Luck favoured him. A random shot is nothing in war. Finding a hole near by, he dumped the body in, then covered it over with grass. This done, he whipped out his glasses and commenced to study things. Away in front he could see the convoys slowly moving past. There were guns, ammunition wagons, water-carts, ration wagons, and streams of men. This was not the usual reliefs and supplies. There was something doing. The troops were new, their equipment was good, their bearing fresh and alert. All this was very interesting; but Tony was not near enough to get what he wanted. He decided to walk right through the lines. Leaving his rifle and placing his revolver and glasses in the Turkish haversack, he set off. He was soon one of the many straggling Turkish troops on various errands. They hailed him in their oriental way, but Tony simply grunted in reply.
That is a way of the East, so all went well. At last the daring officer was close behind the Turkish lines. He stumbled on the batteries well placed and well hid. Stacks of shells lay to hand in preparation for their attack. In another part he located a searchlight, and down in a little gully he found a forward base for gun and rifle ammunition. This was a sound discovery. He memorised the spot and tried to locate it on the map. Passing on, he came to a field hospital. This was being cleared, for wagons were taking the wounded men away to the ships which lay in the offing. When a hospital is being cleared, look out for a fight. A soldier understands what it means.
Tony finally arrived in a sort of rest camp. It was alive with men—fresh ones from Constantinople. There were plenty of German officers, too, also some sailors with Goeben and Breslau on their caps. He wondered what the sailors were there for. They seemed to be camped round an artillery park. He solved it; they were serving the guns. Down the lines he stumbled, grunting like an old horse, and, occasionally, sitting down to view the scene. They had plenty of biscuits, and even such luxuries as coffee, bread, and water melons. No signs of starvation or lack of supplies. That was an important point. Tony was doing well. His scheme was succeeding beyond his dreams. Indeed, he was beginning to feel quite cocky, till, on looking round, he found a swarthy little fellow behind him. He was being followed. Something gripped his heart. He had shot his bolt. Still he did not lose his head. This little man must be led on a little farther. Tony retraced his steps. The man followed him. He sat down; the Turk also sat down. This was unnerving, and the young sub. almost shouted in anger and agony. Rising again, he went on, striking into the open and less populated part. And, all the while, the officer wondered how he was going to deal with his sleuth-hound. He could not shoot him there.
At last his eye caught sight of the little knoll where his dead Turk lay buried. Good! He would lead him up there. He plodded on, and, behind him, stalked the patient-looking Turk. Oh! the agony of those moments. It was like a knife sinking by degrees into the human heart. It was the hour for nerve, coolness and caution. Tony reached the top of the hill. With a sigh he sat down, pulled out his pipe and commenced to smoke. The Turk also sat down, but at the foot of the hill. He too started to smoke. His face had the sense of ease, his eyes a humorous gleam. He, apparently, was in no hurry. What the devil did he mean? Tony wondered, and wondered. This torture was insufferable; so insufferable that the subaltern waved his arm, signalling the Turk to come up beside him. He obeyed. As he reached the top he took off his cap and said, "Good days, Mr. Ingleesman."
"Who's English?" said Tony, smiling at his own audacity and apparent admission.