"Bugler! Bugler! Sound the 'Retire'!" sang out Mr. Meredith, on watch. "Get away in that boat of yours," he told the Lamp-post, as the old crew came up the jumping-ladder, and the relief crew waited to take their place. "Coal and water her when this 'show's' finished."
"Good luck to 'C' beach and the lighter, old Lampy! Don't duck when they come along. Nighty! Nighty!" the Orphan called out to him, and went below, as another wailing swish sighed through the air over the ship.
Outside X2 casemate the China Doll leant against the thin armour, with his sponge and soap in his hand and a towel round him. "Where are those horrid shell dropping? Anywhere near us?" he asked, blinking his eyes.
The Pink Rat, inside the casemate, looked very miserable. "Any luck, Orphan?" he asked nervously.
"I'm going to 'bag' your baths. I'm so sleepy I can't wait till these silly old Turks have finished," the Orphan said, and sang out for Barnes to get him a cup of tea.
It was now four weeks since the night of the Suvla landing, and, as you have heard, flies were more of a plague on shore than they had been when the Achates' midshipmen left "W" beach. They swarmed on board the ships. Bubbles declared that you could see them sitting along the gunwales of every boat that came off from the beach, and that directly it got alongside they flew on board and made themselves at home. The Honourable Mess presented the China Doll with a "swatter", and made him spend most of his waking hours killing flies in the gun-room, but the more he killed the more flew in through the scuttles or from the mess-deck. Both in the ward-room and the gun-room the noise of the fly "swatters" went on continuously all through the daylight hours.
Dysentery commenced to rage throughout the Army; and whether the flies brought it off from shore or whether they did not, dysentery commenced to break out among the ships' companies, especially among those men who worked in boats, or those living ashore—signalmen and beach-party men—all who were frequently in contact with the soldiers. The Pink Rat, grown visibly thinner, and the Hun both went on the sick-list. They lay in cots on the half-deck, but had often to turn out and get behind the armour, on one or other of the casemates, when the Turks' shells began whistling over the skylight above them. They lived chiefly on condensed milk—"poor brutes", as the China Doll said sympathetically.
So many of those "stray" snotties who had lodged in the Achates had by now been sent back to their own ships, ill, that the Honourable Mess had the gun-room almost to themselves again. Nor had those precious stores been seriously raided this time, so they had no real grievance.
At last the Achates herself received orders to return to Mudros to coal and "rest"; and on the 6th September she slipped out through the submarine "gate" after dark, left the twinkling camp-fires of Suvla behind her, and steamed through the double row of submarine nets at Mudros early next morning.
CHAPTER XX