They all took shelter behind a small mountain of corned-meat packing-cases, in company with a couple of gaily dressed, shiny-black Senegalese, who were not in the least happy, and a young, equally gaudily dressed "Foreign Legion" soldier, who was quite happy—a slim, sunburnt, laughing man in a red fez with a long tassel, a grey-blue embroidered Zouave jacket, a blue sash, and baggy scarlet trousers. One shell came very near them, and burst with a terrific crash on the other side of the packing-cases, blowing in two or three, so that the meat-tins showed through the cracks, but only covering the three midshipmen with dust. This was the first high-explosive shell which had burst near the Orphan, and he did not like it a little bit. Bubbles and the Lamp-post, who had had more experience of them, liked it still less; but the Zouave only smiled: "Mon Dieu! le méchant! le miseréble!" and offered them little twisted cigarettes of black tobacco. They were not in the least miserable when a long pause ensued after one shell, and a bugle sounded to tell everyone that "Asiatic Annie" had "packed up", and they were able to leave the protection of their tinned-meat packing-cases.
On the afternoon when the first German submarine arrived, and sent the old Achates flying to Mudros in the scurry of transports and store-ships, they watched her go without any real regrets. The Orphan and Bubbles certainly preferred to stay where they were; and though, perhaps, the Lamp-post, at the bottom of his heart, longed to get away from the flies and shells, they could never get him to admit it.
Then, three days later, the Triumph was sunk—along the coast, off Anzac—and all the battleships left Cape Helles; all except the old Majestic, who came along and anchored so close to "W" beach that you could almost throw a stone on board her from the casualty clearing-station tents on top of the cliffs.
"They won't 'get' her there, not with all those trawlers and little steamers round her," Bubbles said. But on Friday morning, just as they were turning to work, and the Orphan was "standing by" in his picket-boat to "run an errand", they heard a rumbling explosion, looked round, saw a huge column of water spout up alongside her, close to her after bridge, and heard and felt another explosion.
"They've got her!" everyone sang out as she began to turn over very rapidly; and the Orphan, shouting to Plunky Bill to shove off, dashed towards her to pick up men already jumping from her sloping deck into the sea. She heeled over so extraordinarily rapidly that the Orphan never had a chance of going alongside, but stood off, and with other steamboats, with trawlers, drifters, a French torpedo-boat, and any number of other boats of all descriptions, made a ring round the doomed ship, to which her crew swam. The Orphan pushed his boat so close that he had to back out to prevent her fore mast-head and "wireless" gear fouling him as it heeled down to the water's edge. It was a horrid and sad sight; but the Orphan was too busily engaged pulling people out of the water to pay much attention to that; and when his picket-boat could hold no more, he turned them over to a small coasting steamer anchored near, and went back again. By this time she was bottom up.
The sinking of this ship had a most depressing effect on everyone; and even the casual Orphan and thoughtless Bubbles wondered what "Gallipoli Bill" would do, now that there was no ship left with guns big enough to annoy him. However, that elusive howitzer had evidently very little ammunition to spare—probably one of our "E" submarines in the Sea of Marmora had sunk a steamer with a supply she was expecting—so six shells, twice a day, were as much as he could allow himself.
You will notice that no mention is now made of the small shells. They still fell on "W" beach and in the sea, close to the piers, at all hours of the day; but unless they came in numbers, no one took any notice of them. Their fuses were so poor that they seldom burst, and when they did, they seldom did any harm.
The three midshipmen's time ashore was now drawing to a close, and four days after the Majestic had been sunk—how they did wish her ram wouldn't stick out of the water and remind them of her!—a signalman brought down a signal: "Officers and men of Achates beach party will embark in Trawler 370 at 11.30 to-day. Trawler will take Achates picket-boat in tow."
It was not until they had embarked, and the Orphan had made "fast" a hundred feet of rope from his picket-boat to the trawler's stern, that they learnt that the Achates had been sent to Mytilene, and that they were to join her there.
They waved good-bye to "W" beach just as "Gallipoli Bill" dropped a big shell half-way down the gully, and the Lamp-post and Bubbles realized the relief of not having to wonder where the next one would come.