“Wait here until I return!”
The Greek guide whispered these words in Jack’s ear, thus recognizing
the fact that he knew which of the two boys could be accounted the
leader.
Without explaining what he meant to do he left them, and his form was
speedily swallowed up in the gloom. Amos hardly knew what it meant,
though, of course, knowing that Arturus had not basely deserted them
thus.
“What’s up, Jack?” he asked, cautiously.
“He believes there is a large body of Turks on the road ahead, and has
gone to find out,” Jack told him after he had placed his lips close to
the other’s ear.
Amos only grunted. No doubt he was beginning to believe there never
could have been a more difficult undertaking than the one they were
now engaged upon. Troubles seemed to be following quick and fast on
each other’s heels--first that battery, then the task of passing around
it, and now something else.
Crouching there, they waited as patiently as they could for Arturus’
return. In the meantime they listened, and could catch sounds that
told of many men being close by, a fact that seemed to prove Jack’s
conclusion sound. The Turks must be gathering a force with the
intention of making a night attack on the little New Zealand contingent
beyond, expecting to take them by surprise and sweep them into the sea.
He did not tell Amos this, not wanting to discourage the other, who had
already met with so many disappointments. It stood to reason, though,
that if the “Kiwis” were dislodged, and either captured, or forced to
take to their boats, the aviator must vacate his little field where he
had held forth, venturing on so many daring trips.
The minutes dragged terribly. Every now and then Amos would let fall a
great big sigh, proving how this delay was cutting him to the heart.
Surely Arturus must have had ample time by now to find out all he
wanted to know, and should be back with his companions again. But Jack
refused to let himself suspect anything like treachery on the part of
the guide, whose measure he had taken in the start, and in whom he put
the utmost trust.
Presently he was relieved to hear a slight sound as of someone
approaching. It came from the proper direction, and he felt sure
Arturus was returning.
A figure could now be dimly made out; still neither of the boys so much
as moved a finger. They were waiting for something more definite to
identify the other.
“Jack, Amos!”
When they heard their names breathed ever so softly they knew it was
all right, and that Arturus had come back; so they immediately hastened
to join him.
“It is even worse than I believed,” was the first thing he told them.
“They are Turks, of course?” asked Amos, never forgetting for a moment
the need of extreme caution when making any communication.
“Yes, hundreds of them gathered there,” he was told. “It is their
intention to creep around and attack the camp from the east. Already
many of them have started up among the rocks, and the rest expect to
follow.”
“Oh! we must manage some way or other to warn the troops, or they may
be caught napping, and all of them killed,” Amos went on to say.
“What is the best plan of campaign, Arturus?” asked Jack in his
customary direct way; for he knew that action alone could secure the
end they had in view.
“We can wait until all have left the road and then pass on,” explained
Arturus; “or if we please we might reach the beach, and proceed that
way.”
“They may happen to leave a few men behind them to watch the road,”
suggested Jack. “On the whole, I think it our best plan to take to the
shore.”
“Just as you say, and I myself believe that is the safest way,”
admitted Arturus.
“Then let’s be moving right away,” begged Amos.
There was no objection to his plea, and consequently they turned to
the left, for the water lay in that quarter. Once more they lowered
themselves down the little bluff, and if a few stones were dislodged
they expected that the sounds would, even if heard by the nearby Turks,
not be deemed suspicious, or worthy of investigation.
Once they struck the sandy strip where the little waves came running
up close to their feet, all of them felt vastly relieved. If only they
could creep past the danger spot, they would very likely be on the home
stretch, and could reach their destination without further trouble.
The voices of the Turks reached them more plainly as they pushed on. It
meant that some of them were squatting on the very bluff overhead; so
that if the trio expected to pass unobserved they must continue to be
exceedingly careful.
All Jack hoped for was that none of the Turks would happen to be down
by the edge of the water. If that proved to be the case they would be
compelled to postpone their passage until the last of the followers of
Mahomet had withdrawn, following the rest of the detachment up the hill.
Jack placed implicit confidence in Arturus, and the Greek did not
fail them. He kept as close to the bluff as possible, while advancing
all the while; and quite naturally the two boys copied his example,
recognizing the value of it.
In this way they gradually managed to creep past the spot where the
Turks on the little bluff above kept up their low-toned conversation.
Possibly Arturus understood what they said, but it was useless for
either of the others to try and grasp the meaning, since the Turkish
tongue was a sealed book to them.
When this had been accomplished, and they could feel that they were
safely by, both boys felt pleased. A heavy load was taken from the
chest of Amos, so that once again he could encourage himself with fresh
hopes.
Their progress was now more speedy, though Arturus still kept on his
guard. Jack admired the fellow more and more as he saw him work. He
felt sure Arturus must be a born scout, and in the service of the
Allies ashore on Gallipoli would prove himself to be a valuable man
indeed.
From this time onward all of them were keenly on the watch for some
sign ahead to indicate the presence of the Territorials. They did not
mean to take any chance of being shot at by some vigilant sentry, who
may have discovered their coming from his post in the darkness, and
mistaken them for a straggling party of the enemy.
As it was no longer possible to advance any further along the beach,
owing to their having reached a place where the waves ran up against
the rocks direct, the guide had once more led them to the forsaken
shore road, and they were now moving along that.
It was about this time that Jack sniffed the air. He had caught a whiff
of tobacco smoke, it seemed to him. Possibly one of the sentries had
managed in some way to roll a cigarette, and was enjoying a few puffs,
hiding the light as well as he could with his hands.
Arturus, too, must have caught the same odor for he had come to a
pause; and all of them seemed to be trying to pierce the black curtain
ahead in hopes of picking up a tiny speck of fire that would betray
the presence of the soldier. After all, it was Amos whose sharp eyes
discovered what they sought. He gripped Jack’s arm and pointed,
although it was difficult to follow his extended hand.
Jack, however, saw a tiny glow. The night air, too, came from that very
quarter, showing how the odor of tobacco smoke had been carried to them.
“Lie low in case he fires at us, and let me challenge him,” he told the
others.
His voice must have faintly reached the unseen sentry, for there came a
quick hail, and they plainly heard the click of a gun-lock.
“Who’s there?” demanded an imperative voice.
“Don’t fire! We are friends!” called out Jack, lying behind a rock,
for it was not at all certain what the sentry might do.
“Where did you come from?” asked the other, suspiciously, as though he
imagined this might after all be some clever trick played by German
officers, and intended for his undoing.
“From the lower camp, and with word for your commander,” Jack went on
to say. “So be kind enough to summon help and have us conducted before
him. There is need of haste, too, because right now the Turks are
closing in around you, and mean to spring a surprise attack.”
Apparently this startling information aroused the sentry, for he gave
some sort of signal, and immediately afterward the tramp of feet
announced the coming of several others.
The boys could hear them talking together. Then another voice, invested
with more or less authority, reached them.
“How many of you are there out there?” came the question.
“Three, two American boys, and the Greek guide, Arturus,” Jack
replied, thinking it might hurry things somewhat if he explained in a
satisfactory manner in the start.
“Advance one at a time, and remember that any sign of treachery will
mean your death!” came the gruff voice, evidently belonging to a
sergeant.
Jack stepped out first, and quickly found himself in the company of
half a dozen men in khaki, great, tall fellows they were, such as so
many of the Territorials seemed to be, as though they grew giants out
there in the Eastern Seas.
Faces were thrust close to Jack. One man even struck a match the better
to see.
“He _is_ a boy, all right!” affirmed this party, as the match went out.
“We are just what we told you, two American boys, and the Greek,
Arturus,” Jack repeated, impressively. “We must see your commander
without a minute’s delay. You are in great peril, and the news we bring
is of vast importance. Besides, we have a letter for him from the
colonel commanding the Australian forces in the lower camp. So please
hurry up.”
The sergeant was apparently fully satisfied by this time that it could
not be a cunning trick engineered by some of those Germans whom they
knew to be among the Turks. So he told them to follow him, and ordered
several of his giants to trot along in the rear with their guns held
ready.
Amos cared little for all this. The main thing in his mind was that,
after all, their perilous undertaking seemed to have reached a point of
success. He only felt a cold hand clutching at his heart occasionally
when he feared that Frank might never have been on Gallipoli after all,
and that the daring aviator whose work they had watched and cheered was
a total stranger.
Presently they found themselves in the camp of the New Zealanders. The
khaki-colored tents had been erected here and there in places that
seemed to afford the highest degree of safety. Doubtless there were
also cavities in the rocks into which the men retreated like conies
whenever there was danger of the camp being under shell fire from some
distant Turkish redoubt or trenches.
Straight up to one of the tents they were conducted. Several men were
sitting on camp stools, smoking their pipes, and apparently engaged in
quietly discussing the plans of campaign that had been laid out for
their guidance, because Jack saw immediately that they were officers.
The coming of the little group evidently surprised them considerably,
for they were not in the habit of having visitors. When they did come,
it was from the fleet, bringing supplies and ammunition, and more
quick-firing guns with which to hold the savage Turks at bay when they
fought to hurl the men in khaki into the sea.
“Who are you, and where did you come from?” asked one of the officers,
evidently the commander-in-chief of the little New Zealand force.
“We are two American boys who have been with the battle fleet, sir, and
sent ashore by the Vice-Admiral on board the _Thunderer_. We were in
the lower camp yesterday and witnessed the fight when they captured the
Turks’ trenches.”
At that the officers uttered various exclamations of satisfaction, for
up to then they were not absolutely sure what the result of the battle
had been.
“Our errand to your camp, sir, is a personal one,” continued Jack; “but
it can be explained later on. The first thing we want to tell you is
that on our way here we came upon a very heavy detachment of the enemy,
leaving the old shore road to swing around on your front. Our guide,
the Greek, Arturus, here, is positive they mean to attack your position
sometime between now and morning.”
At that every man sprang to his feet. Although they were constantly
anticipating such news, when it did come, it produced a profound
impression.
“Are you there, Arturus?” demanded the commander-in-chief, discovering
the young Greek, who was evidently well known to him from previous
meetings. “Do you back up all this young chap has been telling us?”
“It is the truth, General,” declared the guide. “They are in heavy
force, and mean to give you a hard fight for your position. It is
their aim to drive your force into the sea.”
Then followed quick, sharp orders, showing how well prepared the
“Kiwis” were to accept the gage of battle. Under arms every minute of
the day and night, ready to meet each emergency as it arose, they were
not likely to be harried out of the position they had gained on the
Gallipoli shore by any surprise tactics on the part of the sly enemy.
Presently there was no one with the newcomers save the
commander-in-chief himself. He insisted on shaking hands with each of
the three by turns.
“You have done us all a great service this night,” was what he told the
boys as he squeezed their hands. “We are always prepared for trouble,
but ‘forewarned is forearmed,’ you know, and on this account the notice
you have brought may save many precious lives. I shall be sure to see
you later on, if alive, and anything I may be able to do for you, that
you can command of me.”
With that he turned and left them. Doubtless he had duties himself to
perform, and did not believe in leaving every detail to subordinates.
These soldiers from the islands of the sea and across the broad
Atlantic were more inclined to follow the French methods of kindly
treating their men than to follow the austere German or British plan.
They were on good terms with every private in the ranks, and there was
a certain degree of familiarity between officers and men that bound
them closer together.