A Dash up The Narrows
The Turk challenged. In the dim light he was not able to discern the
uniform of the young officer. Perhaps he took him for one of the
German taskmasters. At all events he merely held his rifle at the
ready and made no attempt to fire.
The slight delay gave Dick his chance. Dropping on one knee he gripped
the sentry by his ankle, at the same time delivering a terrific
left-hander that caught the fellow fairly in that portion of his body
commonly known as "the wind".
The Turk fell like a log. His rifle dropped from his nerveless grasp,
fortunately without exploding. The back of his head came in violent
contact with a lump of rock and rendered him insensible.
"You've killed him," whispered Sefton.
"Not much," replied Crosthwaite coolly. "He's got a skull as thick as
a log of wood. At any rate we'll be spared the trouble of having to
gag and truss him up. You might remove the bolt from his rifle and
throw it away. It may save us a lot of bother if the fellow does pull
himself together sooner than I expect."
It was hazardous work descending the almost sheer cliff, for the spot
where the officers had emerged was midway between the fort and the
beach, and, being in a totally different part to the place where they
had landed, they were unfamiliar with the locality.
Once Sefton slipped, and rolled twenty feet through the brushwood,
finally landing in a cavity caused by the explosion of a shell. On two
occasions the Sub almost came to grief through the rock giving way
beneath his feet, but by dint of hanging on like grim death he
succeeded in regaining a firm foothold. The drizzling rain, too, made
the ground slippery, and added to the difficulties; but after ten
minutes' arduous exertions they found themselves on the stone-strewn
beach.
"Now stop," ordered Dick. "Sling your revolver and ammunition into the
sea. We want to travel light on the job. Ready? I'll set the course
if you'll keep as close as you can. Thank goodness we're not in the
Tropics, and that there are no sharks about!"
He might have added that amongst those rocks cuttle-fish were
frequently to be found; but fearing there might be a limit to his young
companion's pluck, he refrained from cautioning him on that point. It
was a case of "ignorance is bliss" as far as Sefton was concerned.
The water was cold--much colder than that of the adjacent
Mediterranean--yet it would be possible for the active swimmers to
endure half an hour's swimming without risk of exhaustion. Long before
that, they fervently hoped they would be safe on board a British vessel.
"Breast stroke--and don't splash," cautioned Dick, as the midshipman
started off with powerful overhand stroke. Any suspicious movement in
the water might bring a heavy rifle-fire upon the two swimmers from the
numerous Turkish infantry who had reoccupied the position after the
retirement of the demolition party. The Sub could hear them distinctly
as they vigorously plied mattock and shovel in throwing up
entrenchments on either side of the demolished fort.
Ahead, and less than half a mile from the shore, was a destroyer,
moving slowly against the current and sweeping the shore with her
search-lights. At first the Sub imagined she was stationary, but
before the swimmers had covered fifty yards they were caught by the
current, and swept southwards so rapidly that Dick realized that there
was no chance of making for her. Their best plan was to swim at right
angles to the shore, and let the drift help them to shape an oblique
course that would bring them in the track of the mine-sweepers.
"How goes it?" enquired Crosthwaite laconically, after ten minutes of
silence.
"All correct, sir," replied the middy confidently.
"We'll make that chap all right," continued Dick, pointing to a black
shape "broad on his starboard bow" as he expressed its position.
Two minutes later he was not so certain. The vessel seemed to be
changing course. Just then a search-light played full upon the heads
of the swimmers. There it hung with irritating persistency.
"Hope they don't think we're a couple of drifting mines, sir," remarked
Sefton. "Perhaps they'll give us a few rounds."
That possibility had entered Dick's mind. Raising his arm out of the
water he waved it frantically. In so doing he completely forgot the
other side of the question, and a crackle of musketry from the shore
announced the disconcerting fact that the alert Turks had noticed the
commotion in the water.
The bullets ricochetted all around the swimmers. The Sub turned and
gave a swift glance at his companion. He was still "going strong",
unperturbed by the leaden missiles that sung like angry bees.
A lurid flash burst from the fo'c'sle gun of the destroyer.
For a brief instant the Sub was in a state of suspense; then he gave a
gasp of relief, for the projectile was not aimed at the two dark
objects in the ray of the search-light. With a crash it landed on the
hillside, and the rifle-firing ceased with commendable promptness.
The destroyer turned and, still maintaining a high speed, made straight
for the two swimmers.
"Way enough!" exclaimed Dick cheerfully. "They're going to pick us up."
Suddenly, as the vessel's engines were reversed, the destroyer lost
way. The creaking of tackle announced that her crew were lowering one
of the Berthon boats--and within four hundred yards of the Turkish
batteries.
Yet for some reason the field-pieces did not open fire until Dick and
the midshipman were picked up and were in the act of being transferred
from the boat to the destroyer _Calder_. Then, with a vivid and a
sharp detonation, a shell burst a couple of hundred feet short of the
British craft, quickly followed by another that missed by similar
distance beyond.
Having revealed their identity, Dick and his companion were taken below
and furnished with dry clothing. Quickly the Sub returned on deck and
approached the Lieutenant-Commander on the bridge.
"Field-pieces lowered over the cliff, eh?" ejaculated that officer.
"Jolly plucky of those fellows. We're engaged in trying to draw their
fire. Sorry I can't put you on board the _Hammerer_. The battleships
and cruisers have withdrawn until the mine-field is cleared a little
higher up. They're going to tackle Chanak and Kilid Bahr to-morrow.
We're just off to reconnoitre. The _Calder's_ taking the European and
the _Irwell_ is trying her luck on the Asiatic side."
"Can I be of any service, sir?"
"I'm afraid not--as far as I can see at present. We'll find room for
you in the conning-tower."
The _Calder's_ search-lights had now been switched off. She was
steaming slowly in a northerly direction, and had already passed the
innermost of the mine-sweepers and their attendant destroyers.
Dick entered the limited expanse of the conning-tower, in which was a
Naval Reserve sub-lieutenant and two seamen. The Lieutenant-Commander,
called by courtesy the Captain, stood without on the bridge, in company
with the mate and a yeoman of signals.
Presently the Lieutenant-Commander glanced at the luminous dial of his
watch.
"Time!" he exclaimed decisively, in the tone of a referee at a boxing
tournament. "Full speed ahead."
The engine-room telegraph-bell clanged. Black smoke tinged with lurid
red flames belched from the four squat funnels, and, like a hound
released from leash, the _Calder_ raced on her perilous mission, her
whole fabric quivering under the rapid pulsations of her engines.
The _Calder_ was not one of the latest type of destroyers. Her tonnage
was a little over 550, her speed supposed to be 24 knots, but by dint
of terrific exertion on the part of her "black squad" that rate was
considerably exceeded.
Almost everything depended on her pace. She had to draw the fire from
the hostile batteries. If she were hit and sunk the British navy would
be the poorer by the loss of a useful destroyer and a crew of seventy
gallant men--and nothing would be gained except the glory of having
died for their country. If on the other hand the _Calder_ returned in
safety, the British Admiral would be in possession of important
information with reference to the position of new batteries that the
Turks had thrown up to supplement those which were already known to be
in existence. Moreover, there had been a report that The Narrows had
been obstructed by a boom in addition to rows of mines, and a
verification of the information or otherwise was urgently required
before further extensive operations could be conducted.
On and on the _Calder_ tore. Now she was abreast of the powerful
batteries of Tekeh and Escali. Almost ahead, owing to the sinuosity of
The Narrows, lay the huge fortress of Chanak. Each of these positions
mounted guns heavy enough to blow the frail destroyer clean out of the
water, while there was known to be rows of deadly mines which might be
anchored sufficiently far beneath the surface to allow a craft of the
_Calder's_ draught to pass unscathed--but they might not. It was
facing death at every revolution of the propellers.
Yet for some unknown reason the Turks made no attempt to open fire. It
might be that they relied upon their mines, and were loath to disclose
their positions by opening fire upon an insignificant destroyer. If
such were the case, it showed that the Ottoman had learned a new
virtue--forbearance under provocation.
It was useless to suppose that the enemy had not spotted the
swiftly-moving destroyer. The flame-tinged smoke was enough. Besides,
she had already crossed the path of three powerful fixed search-lights
that swept the entire width of the Dardanelles.
"The beggars are going to spoof us," remarked the Naval Reserve officer
to Dick. "We'll have our run for nothing. I wish they'd do something."
Before Crosthwaite could reply, the whole of the European shore between
Tekeh and Kilid Bahr seemed to be one blaze of vivid flashes. Then, to
the accompaniment of a continuous roar that would outvoice the clap of
thunder, a hundred projectiles sped towards the daring British
destroyer, some falling short, others bursting ahead and astern, while
many flew harmlessly overhead. Yet in all that tornado of shell the
_Calder_ survived. Although her funnels were riddled with fragments of
the bursting missiles and a shell penetrated her wardroom, she
sustained no vital damage.
Zigzagging like an eel, in order to baffle the Turkish gun-layers, she
held grimly on her way, her skipper, standing coolly on the bridge,
sweeping the shore with powerful night-glasses.
Fragments of metal rattled against the thin armour of the
conning-tower. Wafts of cordite drifted aft as the crew of the 4-inch
on the foc'sle blazed away against the powerful shore batteries. A
dozen streams of smoke from the perforated funnels eddied aft in the
strong breeze caused by the destroyer's speed, and rendered it
impossible for the after 4-inch gun to be worked.
Making a complete circle the _Calder_ entered the belt of dense smoke
previously thrown out by the funnels. A lot depended upon this
manoeuvre, for she was lost sight of by the Turkish gunners. While
they were congratulating themselves upon having sunk another of the
Giaour's ships, the destroyer emerged from the bank of vapour, and in a
position that necessitated an alteration in the sighting of the hostile
guns.
It was grimly exciting, this game of dodging the fire of a hundred
guns. Without giving a thought to the fact that the conning-tower
afforded little or no protection, Dick revelled in the situation, now
that the first salvo had been fired. Possibly the sight of the
Lieutenant-Commander scorning to take shelter helped to steady Dick's
nerves. He felt as much at home on that frail craft, the plating of
which was a little thicker than cardboard, as he did behind a
heavy-armoured casemate of the _Hammerer_.
From both sides of the Dardanelles shells, large and small, hurtled
through the air. It seemed as if nothing could prevent the projectiles
from Kilid Bahr and the adjacent batteries ricochetting into Chanak and
the forts on the Asiatic shore. Yet, hit many times, the _Calder_ held
grimly and swiftly on her course till she came abreast of Nagara.
[Illustration: "THE _CALDER_ HELD GRIMLY AND SWIFTLY ON HER WAY"]
She had traversed the whole extent of The Narrows. Mines she missed,
possibly by a few feet. More than once torpedoes, launched from the
tubes mounted on the shore, tore past her, the trail of foam looming
with a peculiar phosphorescence, showing how near they had been to
getting home; while the shells that struck her, although inflicting
considerable damage, failed to strike in any vital part.
Satisfied that no boom existed at Nagara, and that the Turkish cruisers
and destroyers which were thought to have left the Sea of Marmora and
had taken shelter beyond Nagara were not in their expected anchorage,
the Lieutenant-Commander of the _Calder_ ordered the helm to be put
hard over.
Listing outwardly as she turned till her normal water-line showed three
feet above the water, the destroyer began her return journey. Before
she recovered her normal trim a 4-inch shell penetrated her thin
plating, and, fortunately without exploding, missed one of the boilers
by a fraction of an inch and disappeared out of the starboard side.
Then, as the destroyer steadied on her helm, the aperture a few seconds
previously clear of the water was now eighteen inches beneath the
surface. It poured a regular cascade that threatened to flood the
engine-room.
In an instant one of the artificers saw the danger and acted promptly.
Seizing a bundle of oily waste he thrust it into the irregular-shaped
hole, and coolly sat with his broad shoulders hard against the
impromptu plug and kept it in position.
"There's the _Irwell_," suddenly exclaimed the Royal Naval Reserve
officer, who was looking through one of the slits in the conning-tower
on the port side.
Dick also looked. At two cables' length from them was their consort,
which, having circled to starboard, had closed in upon the _Calder_.
Both were now running on parallel courses and at approximately the same
speed.
The _Calder's_ skipper also saw the other destroyer. He realized the
danger of the formation, for both craft were in a direct line of fire
from the forts.
"Hard-a-port!" he shouted.
The quartermaster heard in spite of the terrific din. Round spun the
wheel of the steam steering-gear, and with a lurch that gave those
below the impression that she was turning turtle, the destroyer made a
complete circle. By the time she had steadied on her helm the _Irwell_
was nearly a mile ahead.
A repetition of the terrible fire from Kum Kale greeted the _Calder_ as
she tore past the southern-most of the forts, badly mauled but still in
fighting trim. Her exploit had been successfully accomplished.
"Can anyone oblige me with a cigarette?" asked the
Lieutenant-Commander, as he was rejoined by the officers from the
conning-tower.
The Royal Naval Reserve officer hastened to comply.
"Good heavens, sir!" he exclaimed. "You've been hit."
"Yes," assented the skipper coolly. "A piece of shell. It's spoilt my
greatcoat, I'm afraid, but what's worse, took my cigarette-case to
blazes--and it was a presentation one, worse luck. That's why I had to
ask for something to smoke. No, it isn't a case for the medico; a
Maltese jeweller will do a bit of business over this affair, I think."
Handing over the charge of the bridge to the second in command, the
skipper went below to receive the reports of the surgeon, the chief
artificer-engineer, and the gunner as to the damage to personnel and
hull and fittings. This done he retired to his cabin--which was
considerably draughty, owing to the attentions of a couple of Turkish
shells which had passed completely through it without exploding--and
proceeded to draft his report to the Admiral.
Presently Dick remembered that he had not seen anything of young Sefton
during the dash up The Narrows. Going in search of him, he found the
midshipman busily engaged in helping the doctor, a surgeon probationer
of the Royal Naval Reserve entered for service during the war. There
was plenty to be done, for the casualties amounted to four men
seriously wounded and about a dozen others suffering from slight
injuries.
"Can't say I liked the job at first, sir," remarked the midshipman
confidently, "but the skipper told me to go below. It felt absolutely
rotten being boxed up without knowing what's going on. One thing is
certain: I'll take jolly good care not to specialize in engineering if
I can help it. I mean to go for the executive branch for all I'm
worth."
"You've made yourself pretty useful, I hear," said Crosthwaite, who had
been told by the surgeon how the midshipman worked like a nigger.
"I suppose so," admitted Sefton modestly. "When you're helping to
patch up a man who has been horribly knocked about, you forget what's
going on on deck. Where are we now, sir?"
"Making for the fleet off Tenedos," replied the Sub. "We'll be put on
board the old _Hammerer_ before another hour's up, unless something
unforeseen occurs. My word, the wind is piping up! We're in for a
good hard blow, I believe."
Without further incident the _Calder_ rejoined the rest of the
squadron. In answer to a signal a picket boat put off from the
_Hammerer_ to take off the two missing officers, who parted from their
rescuers with thanks and promises to restore their borrowed garments at
the first available opportunity.
Next day it blew half a gale. Under these climatic conditions
operations were hopeless, and the fleet remained in the open roadstead,
rolling heavily in the terrific seas. In such weather even the
steadiest ship would be unable to use her guns with any degree of
accuracy, while it was equally certain that none of the Turkish
mine-laying vessels could come out to drop fresh mines in the place of
those already removed by the British trawlers.
But, on the other hand, the Ottoman land forces were not handicapped by
the climatic conditions. They were doubtless hard at work throwing up
new trenches and batteries, and installing fresh guns from the
apparently inexhaustible supply from the arsenals of their Teutonic
taskmasters.
For three days it blew heavily, accompanied by a continuous deluge of
rain. The delay was galling, and increased the desire of the officers
and men of the fleet to complete the good work that up to the present
had progressed with every prospect of ultimate and speedy success.
"What do you think of that for confounded cheek, Crosthwaite?" asked
Bourne, handing the Sub a typewritten document which contained news of
the war that had been received by wireless and distributed amongst the
fleet. "A Turkish bulletin with German editing requires a lot of
swallowing."
Dick took the proffered paper and read:
"The Dardanelles Operations.--Berlin reports that on Monday the
Anglo-French fleet made a desperate attack upon the southern forts of
the Gallipoli Peninsula. In spite of a terrific artillery fire little
damage was done to the forts. A strong English landing-party was
repulsed with heavy losses."
"If they call our demolition party a strong force, I pity them when we
do land a few army corps!" remarked Bourne. "However, the more people
are fooled the more bitter the grim realization. Carry on."
"The same evening a number of enemy light cruisers and destroyers
attempted to ascend The Narrows," read Dick aloud, for the benefit of
some of the midshipmen. "Three cruisers and at least six destroyers
were observed to sink under the accurate fire of our Turkish allies.
The Anglo-French fleet, apparently realizing the hopelessness of the
operations, has dispersed."
"To Tenedos, to pay another visit in a day or two," added Maynebrace.
"We'll be through in a fortnight. And I believe the wind's dropping.
The glass has been rising steadily for the last three hours."
The midshipman's prognostics were correct, for on the following morning
the wind and sea had subsided considerably.
From the flagship a general signal was made. Its meaning was greeted
with an outburst of acclamation, for it was brief and to the point:
"The fleet will weigh and engage at close range."