On Land and Sea at the Dardanelles

by T. C. Bridges

Apparently the forts were not warned. As the 'Triumph' had been slamming 12-inch shells into them only the previous night, the chances were that the telephone wires were cut. Roy kept going with long steady strokes, while Ken, working even harder, baled frantically the whole time.

So they drove on without speaking for about a quarter of an hour.

At last Ken straightened his aching back. 'It's no use, Roy. The water's gaining. I can't keep it down.'

'You needn't tell me that. I've been over my ankles the last five minutes, and she's pulling like a sunk log.'

'What are we going to do?' said Ken—'Try for the Fountain landing?'

'Might as well, I suppose. Any chance of picking up another boat, d'ye think?'

'Pretty slim, I fancy,' answered Ken. 'There are sure to be sentries there. You see, it's the sort of place where our people might attempt a landing.'

'"She's leaking like a sieve."'

'Could we try for the other side?' suggested Roy.