A Daring Stroke
The Lieutenant-Commander's decision was a sound one. By following the
slowly-moving Turkish steamer, maintaining her distance solely by the
noise of the latter's paddles, the submarine could keep entirely
submerged and yet be led towards a recognized anchorage in the Ottoman
navy. It only remained to be seen whether the steamer was making for
Constantinople or not. In any case the submarine would be miles nearer
her destination by nightfall; but, if the Turkish vessel were bound for
the Golden Horn, Huxtable meant to attack at the first opportunity,
without waiting for dawn, and trust to the ensuing confusion following
the complete surprise to effect his escape.
Twenty minutes elapsed. Huxtable's face began to grow long, for the
compass course showed that the submarine was being led in a direction
S.S.E. Was it possible, he asked himself, that the wretched little
paddle-boat was making for Nagara or some of the other Dardanelles
forts?
"I'll hang on for another ten minutes," he declared. "Then, if the
steamer still persists in going in the opposite direction to the one I
wish, I'll decline to have any more truck with her."
"She's turning," exclaimed Dick. "She's ported her helm."
"Good!" ejaculated the Lieutenant-Commander, as the submarine swung
round till her bow pointed due north. "Now that is much more
reasonable."
During the next hour the steamer zigzagged considerably. It was safe
to conclude that she was threading her way through the intricate
minefield that guarded the southern outlet of the Bosphorus.
A long-drawn-out wail upon the syren of the Turkish vessel, followed by
four shrill blasts, announced that she was approaching her anchorage.
Dearly would Huxtable have liked to bring the periscope of his craft to
the surface, but he resolutely resisted the temptation.
The unwitting pilot was slowing down; it was time for the submarine to
"part company", for the water was shoaling considerably. To follow the
steamer farther would result in the British craft being exposed to the
danger of being rammed by passing vessels, since the needle of the
depth-indicator was already hovering around thirty-five feet.
"I might have guessed that she would not be likely to bring up in deep
water," remarked the Lieutenant-Commander to Dick, referring to the
steamer, the paddle-beats of which were growing fainter and fainter.
"It was a chance, of course, but it didn't exactly come off."
"At any rate she piloted us in very nicely," said Crosthwaite.
"If we are in the Golden Horn, yes," admitted Huxtable. "But are we?
All we can do is to wait until just after sunset, and then take a quick
look round. The place seems too jolly quiet for Constantinople. I
haven't heard the thud of an engine since we dropped the steamer, or
the steamer dropped us--whichever way you like to take it."
In order to make doubly certain that there was no maritime traffic in
the vicinity, the Lieutenant-Commander enjoined silence for the space
of five minutes. With his ear against the concave side of the
submarine's hull he waited and listened intently. Not a sound was to
be heard, for already the British craft's motors had been switched off,
and she was now lying motionless in ten fathoms on the bed of the sea.
Slowly the hours passed until the time of sunset drew near, then once
more the crew were called to their stations. As coolly as if engaged
in evolutions in the piping times of peace the Lieutenant-Commander
gave his orders.
"Charge firing-tank; flood torpedo-tubes; stand by."
The men at the torpedo-tubes obeyed with alacrity, yet wonderingly, for
the sanguineness of their young skipper in ordering the torpedoes to be
placed in the tubes before he was even certain that an enemy was in
sight puzzled them.
Moving very slowly ahead, the submarine rose till her periscope just
showed above the surface. Even Huxtable in his most optimistic mood
did not expect the sight which met his gaze as he looked at the
dazzling object-bowl of the periscope. There, clearly depicted, was a
large cruiser flying the Turkish flag. She was within two hundred
yards of the submarine, and at about a like distance from the northern
shore of a broad creek. The cruiser was not in a position of defence.
Her sun awnings were still rigged, her torpedo-nets not out; even her
fo'c'sle and quarter-deck guns were trained fore and aft, and still had
their tompions in the muzzles. Nor were there any signs that she had
steam up.
"All clear, sir!" reported Sub-lieutenant Devereux, who, stationed at
the supplementary periscope, had swept the limited horizon to certain
that no hostile destroyer or patrol-boat in the vicinity.
"Both tubes--fire!" ordered the Lieutenant-Commander.
He made no attempt to dive as the two missiles left their tubes. He
had sufficient reason to believe that the Turks would be too
panic-stricken to attempt to fire at their assailant.
To his satisfaction he noted, as he watched the diverging white line of
foam that marked the of the torpedoes, that both weapons were heading
straight for the mark with a velocity almost approaching that of an
express train.
A Turkish seaman on the fo'c'sle, gazing idly at the water, was the
first of the crew of the warship to notice the impending danger. Even
then he did not realize the situation, for the possibility of a torpedo
fired from a submarine in strongly-guarded waters never occurred to him
until the missiles were almost home.
He gave the alarm. The apathetic officers and seamen did nothing, for
it would have been useless to attempt to ward off the blow; but in
sheer panic they rushed to the side farthest from the approach of
danger.
Both torpedoes struck almost simultaneously and within thirty feet of
each other. The cruiser reeled as a double column of water was hurled
into the air to a height of nearly two hundred feet. Almost before the
artificial waterspout had subsided the ship was settling rapidly by the
stern.
Even then Huxtable made no attempt to dive. He was content to keep the
periscope above the level of the sea and to watch the disappearance of
the stricken vessel.
Not a shot was fired from the cruiser. The whole energies of officers
and crew were diverted towards their own safety. Panic prevailed, for
in their mad rush to launch the remaining boats men fought each other,
their shouts of anger and shrieks of despair outvying the hiss of the
escaping air from the confined spaces of the sinking ship. Others,
without being given orders, leapt overboard and swam for the shore,
till the intervening stretch of water was dotted with the heads of the
terrified swimmers.
"What a contrast to the sinking of the _Ocean_!" thought Dick. "Here
they are in fairly shallow water and within easy distance from land,
and yet they must fight each other like brutes."
"Destroyers and patrol-boats approaching, sir," reported Devereux, who
was still sweeping the limited expanse of view through the
after-periscope.
"Very good," replied the Lieutenant-Commander. Then turning to Dick he
added: "I'm jolly glad. We'll have a run for our money, for, hang it!
though war is war, one cannot help feeling just a little sorry to have
to sneak up and torpedo an unsuspecting craft."
"She would have sent us to the bottom without the faintest compunction
if she had had the ghost of a chance, sir," replied Dick. "I don't
think we need have anything upon our consciences."
"Well, we'll have to be moving," remarked Huxtable, who was taking a
leisurely survey of his surroundings.
The cruiser had now sunk. Only the tops of her funnels and her masts
were visible. She had been lying at anchor in a fairly broad and
widening channel, the shores of which on both sides were dotted with
picturesque kiosks, half hidden in clusters of cypress and olive trees.
Beyond the visible relics of the torpedoed ship and the still distant
Turkish patrol-craft, there was nothing to denote the presence of war
conditions.
"By Jove!" exclaimed Huxtable. "We're miles up the Golden Horn. Those
are the houses of Pera we can see in the distance. That paddle-steamer
must have piloted us through the bridge of boats between the capital
and Galata. Crosthwaite, my boy, we've beaten all records--and we've
got to get back."
He gave the order to dive. Before the periscope had time to disappear
a column of spray dashed up within twenty yards, as a shell from the
nearest destroyer ricochetted and plunged with disastrous results into
an elegant summer resort on the bank of the Golden Horn.
Gently feeling her way, lest any large disturbance of the water should
betray her position, the submarine made for the Bosphorus; but before
she had covered a quarter of a mile she grounded on a bed of slimy mud.
Promptly the Lieutenant-Commander ordered the motors to be switched
off. Any attempt to forge ahead would only succeed in churning up vast
quantities of mud by the propellers. All that could be done for the
time being was to lie low.
The thud of machinery announced to the crew that the Ottoman destroyers
were cruising over their hiding-place, while muffled detonations at
frequent intervals told them that the Turks were making use of
explosive grapnels in the hope of locating and shattering the hull of
the British submarine.
"That's a close one!" muttered Dick, as a sharp detonation resulted in
nothing worse than making the submarine roll sluggishly on the mud. It
was too close to be pleasant, for, although the water was thick with
sediment and effectually precluded daylight from filtering through the
observation scuttles, the explosion threw a short blinding flash into
the interior of the conning-tower.
It was a time of acute peril and mental strain. At any moment one of
the submerged charges of gun-cotton might be exploded actually in
contact with the steel hull, the crew of which were helpless to raise
even a finger in self-defence. But the expected did not happen.
Apparently satisfied with the result of their operations, the Turkish
destroyers and patrol-boats steamed off, and quietude reigned once more
on and under the waters of the Golden Horn.
Huxtable was too wily a strategist to move prematurely. It was
practically impossible to creep out of the tortuous channel while the
submarine was completely submerged. The suspicions of the Turks being
aroused, it was equally hazardous to show even a momentary glimpse of
the periscope during the hours of daylight. He resolved to lie _perdu_
until nightfall, and then to follow the first steamer that was making
for the Bosphorus.
"Let's hope that a deep-draughted craft won't be coming down," he
remarked. "There's less than twenty-four feet between the protection
girder and the surface. This is one of the occasions when my device
has obvious drawbacks."
"It won't hurt us if the steelwork is hit by a vessel's keel, sir,"
said Devereux.
"I don't know so much about that," objected the Lieutenant-Commander.
"The sudden wrench might start some of our plates. In any case the
ramming craft would stop to investigate."
"Unless she fancied that she'd fouled some of the wreckage of the
cruiser we sank," said Dick.
"Let's hope the Turks will have no necessity to exercise their powers
of discernment," said Huxtable. "In any case I want to do a little
more damage before we're out of action. But," he added cheerfully, "I
have a presentiment that we'll fetch back in safety."
Several hours passed in tedious suspense. Numerous steam vessels sped
overhead or within hearing distance, for the thud, thud of their
engines and the noise of the revolutions of their propellers could be
distinctly heard.
"You'd better turn in," suggested Huxtable to Dick. "There's nothing
doing, and you must be awfully tired."
"I feel a bit sleepy," admitted Crosthwaite; "but don't you think you
ought to have forty winks, sir?"
"I suppose I'd feel all the better if I did," admitted the
Lieutenant-Commander. "Devereux can take charge. He's had his watch
below."
Enjoining the Sub-lieutenant of the submarine to call him at the first
suspicion of danger, Huxtable pulled off his boots and rolled, just as
he was, into his bunk, while Dick was soon fast asleep in the bed
recently occupied by young Devereux.
It seemed as if he had not dozed for more than ten minutes when Dick
was awakened by the purr of the submarine's electric motors. He
started up. The officer's cabin was ablaze with light. Devereux, with
a bundle of charts under his arm, was making his way along the narrow
gangway between the double rows of bunks.
"Hello, old man!" he exclaimed. "Awake, eh?"
"What's the time?" asked Dick drowsily.
Devereux consulted his watch.
"Twenty-three minutes past two," he announced.
"Never!" ejaculated Crosthwaite incredulously. "Surely I haven't----"
"Yes, you have," interrupted Devereux with a laugh. "Seven and
three-quarter hours of solid sleep! Sorry I disturbed you."
"You didn't," declared Dick. "It was the engines."
"We're on the move again," explained his companion. "We're following a
small paddle-boat. Huxtable fancies it's the one that piloted us here.
He may be right--he generally is. If so, it's a rare slice of luck.
Look at young Farnworth. Submarine life apparently suits him, for he's
doing his level best to sleep the clock round."
Just then a bell clanged. The Lieutenant-Commander's voice could be
heard ordering the ballast tanks to be blown.
"I must be off," exclaimed Devereux. "It's action stations.
Something's up."
Dick was out of his bunk in a trice, but before he gained the door he
heard the order being given to charge both tubes.
The submarine was about to attack yet another victim.