Transcriber’s Notes:
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
Additional Transcriber’s Notes are at the end.
* * * * *
[Illustration: The two American boys realized that they were in touch
with one of the grandest combats the world had ever known.--_Page 107_]
TWO AMERICAN BOYS WITH THE DARDANELLES BATTLE FLEET
BY
MAJOR SHERMAN CROCKETT
AUTHOR OF “TWO AMERICAN BOYS WITH THE ALLIED ARMIES,”
“TWO AMERICAN BOYS IN THE FRENCH WAR
TRENCHES,” ETC.
_ILLUSTRATED BY
CHARLES L. WRENN_
NEW YORK
HURST & COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
* * * * *
Copyright, 1916, BY HURST & COMPANY
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. ABOARD THE GREEK POWERBOAT 5
II. THE GUN RUNNER 17
III. THE THREATENING PERIL 27
IV. HOW THE TRICK WORKED 41
V. CONTRABAND OF WAR 53
VI. IN THE GLOW OF THE SEARCHLIGHT 65
VII. ABOARD THE BATTLESHIP THUNDERER 77
VIII. BOMBARDING THE TURKISH FORTS 89
IX. THE BATTLE IN THE STRAITS 101
X. AMIDST THE CRASH OF BIG GUNS 113
XI. WHERE HISTORY WAS BEING MADE 125
XII. AFTER DARKNESS FELL 137
XIII. HEADED FOR THE GALLIPOLI SHORE 149
XIV. LANDING UNDER FIRE 161
XV. THE GALLANT TERRITORIALS 173
XVI. A COLONEL OF THE “KANGAROOS” 185
XVII. TO SURPRISE THE TURKS 197
XVIII. THE BATTLE FOR THE TRENCHES 210
XIX. AFTER THE FIGHT WAS OVER 222
XX. STARTING ON A DANGEROUS TRIP 237
XXI. THE HIDDEN BATTERY ON THE SHORE 247
XXII. PERILS OF THE TRAIL 262
XXIII. WITH THE NEW ZEALAND CONTINGENT 272
XXIV. AN ATTACK THAT FAILED 287
XXV. FOUND AT LAST 299
* * * * *
Two American Boys with the Dardanelles Battle Fleet.
CHAPTER I. ABOARD THE GREEK POWERBOAT.
“This old Greek powerboat seems to be making pretty fair time, isn’t
it, Amos?”
“It certainly is, Jack, which fact gives me a whole lot of solid
satisfaction, I tell you.”
“Lucky for us the water happens to be fairly smooth this spring. They
say the Ægean Sea can kick up a lively circus when it takes the notion.”
“The old stories told of the Greek mariners prove that. You know, Jack,
we’re fairly surrounded by places that have been made famous in ancient
history.”
“Right you are, Amos, and I reckon the Straits of the Dardanelles, that
in the days of Leander used to be called the Hellespont, is one of the
most noted sheets of water in the wide world.
“Yes, dozens of old-time cities like ancient Troy were situated around
the Sea of Marmora. The Persians crossed the straits when they tried
so hard to conquer brave little Macedonia and Thrace. Then there was
Alexander the Great, who led his wonderful army into Asia by the same
route. I guess you could talk for hours about the thrilling events that
have taken place along the Dardanelles.
“And now, Amos, to think that in these modern days the Turk is ably
defending the water road to Constantinople against his one-time friends
and backers, the British and French.
“Times have changed, Amos, and I reckon the Turk is on his way
to scuttle out of Europe at last. He came from Asia, you know.
Constantinople wasn’t founded by the followers of Mahomet, but taken as
a prize of war.”
“Well,” answered Amos, “I only hope that this time we’ll be lucky
enough to find my brother Frank. We’ve made two attempts back in
Belgium and France, and arrived just in time to learn he had been sent
to other fields where skilled airmen were badly needed.”
“Three is often the lucky number, Amos, and somehow I’ve got a hunch
that this time we’re bound to run across your brother, who has done
such good work for the Allies.”
“I hope so, Jack, I certainly hope so; and one thing sure, I’ll never
forget the splendid way you’ve shared my fortunes, no matter how dark
they seemed. You’re a cousin and a chum in a million.”
“Forget all that, please, Amos. I’m straining my eyes through this
glass in hopes of picking up some sign of land ahead beyond that
island yonder; or perhaps seeing the smudge of smoke from the Allies’
battleships on the hazy horizon. Here, take a look, and let me know if
you can make out anything.”
Perhaps it might be just as well, while the two manly-looking American
lads on board the big Greek powerboat are thus engaged, to go a little
into details, and explain who they are. It is necessary, also, that the
reader know what strange mission took them into the dangerous waters
of the Mediterranean while the world war was in progress.
Of course, those readers who have had the privilege of enjoying the
two previous volumes of this series[1] do not need an introduction
to Jack and Amos, since they have already followed the pair through
many extraordinary adventures when near the firing line in Belgium and
Northern France.
There are, however, doubtless others who are making the acquaintance of
the two chums for the first time in these pages, and for their sake a
brief explanation is necessary.
Amos Turner and Jack Maxfield were not only related through ties of
blood, being cousins, but for a long time they had been the most
devoted of chums. Blue-eyed Jack had spent some time on a Western
ranch, and learned many things there through actual experience that
his friend knew only in theory, although Amos had been for some time
interested in the Boy Scout movement.
The boy with the dark eyes lived near Chicago, and his father, Colonel
Rodney Turner, was known as an ex-military man whose book on tactics
had been used throughout the English-speaking world. The stern martinet
had traveled extensively, and in this way became personally acquainted
with a number of soldiers of world-wide reputation.
There was an older brother, Frank Bradford Turner, a bright boy, but
inclined at one time to be wild (and was sometimes called Tom, a
nickname of early days). When the old gentleman missed a pocketbook,
which he remembered distinctly of having placed in a desk drawer where
he kept his papers, he fully believed Frank had given way to temptation
and taken it.
The boy had simply denied ever seeing it, but the circumstances were
so very suspicious that it ended in a quarrel, and his being sent away
from home.
Frank had not been seen by any one for several years, and must have
grown to manhood, for he was ten years older than Amos.
Then, one day, an astonishing discovery was made in the Turner home.
The drawer of the Colonel’s desk became wedged, and, being now in
failing health, he called in Amos to get it out, and oil the edges so
it might work smoother.
Amos, discovering that one or two papers had been dragged off the top
of the pile in taking the drawer out, thrust his hand into the cavity
to capture them, and immediately held up the long-missing pocketbook.
It had fallen off in opening the drawer, and was never stolen after all.
Remorse began immediately to gnaw at the old soldier’s heart. He called
himself all manner of names, and was suffering keenly, under the belief
that he would now never see his oldest born again.
It was learned, through accident, that Frank had traveled in African
wilds with a noted explorer. Then, later on, in England, he had taken
to aviation, and made a practical air pilot of himself. They even
discovered that he had offered his services to the British Government
at the outbreak of hostilities, and was even then engaged in his
hazardous calling somewhere along the front.
Since the Colonel himself was in too feeble a state of health to think
of going across the ocean to look for his wronged boy, Amos proposed
that he and Jack undertake the sacred duty. And so they started, well
supplied with money, and bearing besides a letter to General Kitchener,
who had been, at one time, while in Egypt, a great friend of Colonel
Turner, a man whose system of tactics he admired highly.
Meeting the “man of destiny,” upon whom England was placing most of her
faith in this terrible crisis, the boys had no difficulty in securing
from him a paper that later on smoothed over many difficulties they
chanced to encounter while in the fighting zone.
Dozens of times they had made petty officials stare when they saw
what a strong endorsement these American lads carried. Often men high
in military authority had virtually made a salute at sight of the
letter actually penned by Kitchener of Khartoum, whose name was a sign
manual wherever men wore the khaki of the British army, as well as the
Territorials, as the men from Canada, Australia and New Zealand were
called.
After encountering many perils, all of which have been entertainingly
described in previous pages, the boys had actually hit upon a strong
clue. They heard about the astonishingly daring work of an Allied
aviator named Frank Bradford, who, besides other feats, had made a long
flight up into the Rhine country and severely damaged some ammunition
stores and works of the Germans, returning in safety through dangers
without limit.
The more the two lads investigated and asked questions the more firmly
Amos became convinced that this Frank Bradford, winning fame as the
most skillful of all the Allied air pilots, could be no other than his
long-missing brother. For some reason of his own, Frank had chosen to
be known by only a portion of his real name; but the descriptions
tallied with the remembrance Amos had of his brother.
They had followed the trail from Belgium over into Northern France,
and had high hopes of coming upon the object of their long search
there; but only met with still another disappointment. Aviators were
sorely needed in the region of the Dardanelles, where the Allied fleet
was trying to force a passage through the narrow channel that led
to the Sea of Marmora, and Constantinople. This peninsula was being
desperately defended by an army of Turks, officered by hundreds of
expert Germans, and with scores of forts and batteries to hold the
assailants in check.
Frank had just a short time before started for the East, and thither,
as soon as they could get aboard a steamer at Boulogne, the two boys
followed him. They touched at Italy, and from there managed to get to a
seaport in Greece, where the real difficulties of the undertaking began
to confront them.
Just when they were ready to give up all hope of finding a chance to
take passage on any sort of boat, and were even contemplating trying to
purchase a small naphtha launch of some sort, they learned that a large
powerboat was starting for some Turkish port. The commander, who went
under the name of Captain Zenos, agreed to take them somewhere near the
scene of operations, when they could find some way of getting in touch
with British Headquarters, and learning what they wished to know about
Frank Bradford.
They had been for some time passing cautiously among the numerous
islands of the famous Ægean Sea, and were heading for the Gallipoli
Peninsula that lies between it and the heavily fortified Dardanelles
Straits.
After using the glass which his chum had handed him, Amos declared
that it began to look as though they might be heading for the island
mentioned.
“We are, by this time,” he went on to say, “getting somewhere near our
destination, and, since we have paid in advance, I’ve been wondering
whether the captain might not mean to land us at any old place, just to
get rid of us.”
Jack glanced around before replying, as though to make certain there
was no chance of his being overheard. At the time it happened that
the crew of seven dark-faced and brawny Greeks were engaged in doing
something up forward, under the supervision of their captain, so that
Jack felt perfectly free to speak what he had on his mind.
“I’ve been meaning to mention a certain matter for some time, Amos, and
it strikes me there’s no use holding it back any longer,” he said, half
under his breath.
“Is it about Captain Zenos, Jack?” immediately demanded the other, who
doubtless must have noticed the cautious look his companion gave toward
the skipper and rough crew of the big powerboat that was churning the
water so noisily.
“Just what it is,” came the immediate reply. “To tell you the honest
truth, Amos, I don’t like the man’s looks any too well. He watches us
from time to time as if he meant to play us some sort of mean trick. We
must keep our eyes open, or something not down on the bills may happen
to us pretty soon.”
FOOTNOTE:
[1] See “Two American Boys with the Allied Armies,” and “Two American
Boys in the French War Trenches.”