That afternoon the _Thunderer_ was many miles away from the scene of
the morning’s activities. The crew busied themselves with “cleaning
up,” and both Jack and Amos were more or less interested in watching
how the monster guns were taken care of.
Comparatively little damage had been done by the bursting of shells
aboard the battleship. In fact, considering the rain of shot to which
all the vessels of the invading fleet had been subjected, it was a
matter of congratulation among the various commanders that no serious
losses had resulted.
Launches were shooting this way and that as visits were exchanged;
but these were in every case necessitated by the need of conferences,
and not mere acts of courtesy. When the war paint was daubed on the
battleships only business was supposed to occupy the minds of those
who were entrusted with the charge of the many units of the vast armada.
Amos had not as yet succeeded in entirely getting rid of his headache,
though he admitted that he felt better. What he had witnessed that
morning had made a deep impression on his mind, so that he could talk
of little else.
They had had a good lunch in the mess-room at about one, and later in
the day, as the sun drew nearer the watery horizon toward the west, the
boys lounged in a favorite spot on deck, surveying the pleasing picture.
In every direction they could see big battleships, swift destroyers,
mine-sweepers, and transports that had brought out new additions to
take the place of those who may have been lost, as well as troops from
both Great Britain and France.
Jack had found an opportunity to make certain inquiries, and he felt
that it was time to communicate what he had learned to his chum.
“I asked about the British flag we saw floating at the lower extremity
of Gallipoli,” he remarked, “as well as the tricolor of France that was
waving across on the Asiatic side of the straits, where Fort Kum Kaleh
used to be. And they tell me that some thousands of troops have been
landed there, and are entrenched, with batteries of quick-firing guns.”
“Then that is why certain vessels keep within a few miles of the
straits all the time, is it?” asked Amos. “They mean to defend the
shore parties if they are attacked by superior numbers of the Turks.”
“That’s just the whole thing in a nut-shell,” agreed Jack. “You know
the fleet had little trouble in reducing the forts and batteries on the
tip of Gallipoli to ruins in the beginning, because they could get a
clean sweep and crossfire on Seddul Bahr and Orkhanieh. There in the
ruins of those places the handful of British soldiers are standing at
bay, ready to mow down the enemy if he starts anything.”
“But why are the French over across on the Asiatic shore, Jack?”
“I suppose only to protect the British, for they have batteries too.
But you understand, Amos, what I was trying to find out concerned the
headquarters of the aviation corps.”
“Someone told me he thought it was on one of the Greek islands lying
about twenty miles away as the crow flies,” Amos said.
“That may be all very true, but on the other hand I’ve heard there have
been men landed in another quarter of the peninsula, part way up, and
my informant assured me he believed some of the fliers made their start
from one of the two camps.”
“That would be important news, if only we knew it to be true, Jack.”
“It would mean that we must manage to get ashore some way or other, and
find out for ourselves, Amos. We’ve never made it a point to depend on
others when we had a thing to be done, like the old farmer did, you
remember.”
“Well, perhaps I’ve heard the story, Jack, but it wouldn’t do any harm
to tell it again,” suggested Amos.
“Oh! it is meant to show how foolish it is to think others will do
things as well as you can yourself,” Jack commenced. “You see, it is
something of a fairy story, too, and concerns a mother bird that had
her little brood nearly ready for flying, with the nest concealed among
the ripening grain of a farmer.”
“A dangerous place to build a nest, that’s sure,” observed Amos.
“One day when she came home the youngsters were in a great fright,
for they said the farmer and his son had been walking close by, and
declared the grain was ready to be cut, so they would send around for
the neighbors, and start in on the next day. After she had managed to
quiet her excited little brood the mother bird told them there was no
need of worry, for the grain would not be cut.
“The next day when she came home they were as badly scared as before.
The farmer and his son had been around again, and this time the old man
declared that since their neighbors had all been too busy to respond,
he would have to call in his relatives, and get the wheat cut on the
following day.”
Amos laughed.
“Chances were it wasn’t cut, Jack?” he remarked, sensibly.
“Well, she told them there was no danger, Amos; but when on the third
day the mother bird came home, and the nestlings told her what had
happened, it was different. The farmer had said that since neighbors
and relatives had failed them, on the following day he and his son
would have to take off their coats and reap the grain themselves. ‘It’s
time we were going then, children,’ said the wise mother bird, ‘for
when a man says he will do a thing himself, and stops depending on
others, that settles it.’ And there’s the story, though I’m afraid it’s
a chestnut.”
“Honestly, Jack, I never heard it before, though it’s a cracking good
one, and illustrates the point you were making. But ever since we’ve
been going together we’ve tried to do things ourselves, and depend on
others just as little as possible. We’ll do it again in this case.”
“I’ll take the first chance I can find to have a little talk with the
commander,” ventured Jack.
“About our getting ashore, you mean?”
“Yes,” replied Jack, “for it isn’t the easiest thing going, you can
understand, making a landing, when a thousand enemy eyes may be on the
watch. First thing you know they may open on you with a quick-firer,
and your name will be Dennis.”
“Still, they must have some way of communicating with the forces
ashore, and sending ammunition as well as provisions to them,” urged
Amos.
“I imagine all that is done under cover of darkness, when a landing can
be made without drawing the fire of the enemy. With every light out
one of these small dispatch boats can creep in close enough to send
a boat-load ashore. Perhaps some of these transports that look as if
they had come a long distance may be loaded with more Australian or New
Zealand troops.”
“They’re coming from all over the world to take a hand in this fierce
scrap, it seems,” suggested Amos. “Canadians, Hindoos, New Zealanders
they call Kiwis and Australians known as Kangaroos, Algerians,
Egyptians, Senegalese, and lots of others. It is a world war, sure
enough, Jack.”
“Just stop and think of it for a minute,” urged Jack, shaking his head
as the immensity of the titanic struggle struck him. “Besides Belgium,
Germany, Japan, Great Britain, and France, there is Russia, with dozens
of different tribes, and Austria with a patchwork lot of peoples. Then
little Servia, and still smaller Montenegro are fighting. Italy is
bound to get in the scrap at any day now, and before the end comes the
Turk may find Rumania and Greece at his throat, eager to help kick him
out of Europe.”
“No one knows yet what the end will be,” Amos continued in the same
strain. “Even Holland, Denmark, Sweden, Norway and Switzerland may be
dragged into the row. I only hope the good old United States is able to
keep out of it, that’s all. We don’t want to fight the Germans if we
can help it, because we think too much of them as a people.”
“We’ll never go in unless we are forced to,” declared Jack. “The only
thing I’m afraid may get us there is this submarine warfare which
Germany has started. They are torpedoing passenger steamers, and when
some Americans are drowned Uncle Sam is apt to get riled, you know, and
roll up his sleeves for business.”
They sat there chatting in this strain for some time. It was impossible
to ever tire of the wonderful scene spread before them, with all those
vessels that represented the vast sea power of Great Britain and France
moving to and fro.
“Germany keeps her fleet shut up in the Kiel Canal all the time. What
do you suppose their object is, Jack?” Amos asked after a while.
“They are waiting in hopes of crippling the British fleet by use of the
submarines and mines,” he was told. “Already several old battleships
have been lost out here, and others have been sunk closer at home. But
I’ve been told that so many super-dreadnaughts have been finished
since the war began that the British fleet is ever so much stronger
today than early last August when the shadow of war fell across Europe.”
“All German commerce has been driven from the sea routes,” said Amos;
“and what vessels have escaped capture are hiding in different friendly
ports. Why, over in New York, you remember, we saw nearly a dozen
splendid big steamers that haven’t earned a dollar since July last. And
they daren’t go outside the harbor either.”
“For a pretty good reason, too,” chuckled the other. “Didn’t we see
three British cruisers, stripped for action, hovering near by when we
passed Sandy Hook lightship on our way out? They would soon riddle the
biggest German vessel, and sink her, if there was any attempt made at
getting out. The sea just at present doesn’t belong to the Kaiser.”
“I can see the Vice-Admiral standing by himself up on the bridge,” Amos
remarked just then. “If only you could catch his eye he might beckon
to you to join him there, for I fancy he’s taken a great liking to you,
Jack.”
“That would give me the opening I wanted, to ask a favor of him about
being put ashore, wouldn’t it, Amos? Besides, he would be likely to
know about where aviation headquarters might be found.”
“Nothing like trying, Jack; and here’s wishing you luck.”
Jack managed to stroll forward until near the bridge. He stood there,
keeping an eye on the figure in the admiral’s uniform. Apparently the
commander was using his binoculars to some purpose, possibly locating
certain units of the fleet so as to know which way to look for any
orders that might come from the one in supreme control, while darkness
rested on the sea.
Something caused him to glance downward after a little while, and
seeing Jack saluting him, he smiled. Then, just as Amos had prophesied,
he beckoned the boy to ascend to the bridge and join him.
Amos laughed softly when he saw this. Doubtless he was saying to
himself that he was a good guesser, since he had made a bull’s-eye
the first shot. He watched Jack join the commander, who immediately
engaged him in earnest conversation, pointing out certain warships
as though telling Jack what they had accomplished. Then Jack must
have started to mention what he and his comrade wished to do, for the
Vice-Admiral seemed to be listening, occasionally saying something as
the opportunity arose.
“It’s all right,” Amos remarked, in a satisfied tone. “I know he’ll
do nearly anything Jack asks of him, because my chum has such a
_convincing_ way about him, he can nearly always carry his point. And
it may be we’ll not be aboard the bully old _Thunderer_ when dawn
breaks, though that remains to be seen.”
A short time afterwards he saw Jack again salute the grizzled
commander, and start down from the bridge, while the officer again used
his glass to locate the most prominent units of the big fleet of war
vessels.