'Ah, Carrington,' said the commander. 'You're the man who talks Turkish. I can't quite make out whether the skipper of this old tub thinks his boats can make the shore or whether he wants a tow. Ask him, will you?'
The Turkish skipper, a greasy-looking ruffian, was in a boat close by. He was gesticulating wildly.
Ken at once hailed him, and asked the necessary question. The man burst into violent speech.
Ken listened, and there was a smile on his face as he turned to the commander.
'He's only swearing at us, sir, and asking what right we have to sink his ship.'
'Tell him he'd better inquire of Enver Bey,' was the grim reply, and Ken faithfully repeated the remark, only to hear a volley of curses called down on Enver's head as well as on his own.
'He can't do anything but swear, sir,' said Ken.
'Well, we've no time to waste,' said the officer impatiently. 'Tell him to clear out as quick as he can. I'm not going to waste shells on that thing. A charge of gun-cotton in her hold is all she's worth.'
With much bad language, the Turkish skipper cleared off, and the three boats containing himself and his crew pulled away in the direction of the land, which was just visible on the almost before the words left the commander's lips, and pulling like fury for the steamer.
'Make for the bows,' he heard Strang shout, and he did so.