Within Sight of Constantinople
Instinctively Dick Crosthwaite made his way to the conning-tower, where
Lieutenant-Commander Huxtable was standing by the bowl of the
periscope. The latter took no notice of his involuntary guest; his
whole attention was centred upon the ill-defined patch of light that,
momentarily growing brighter, showed that the submarine was on the
point of rising to launch her fatal missiles.
The meaningless blurr upon the periscope bowl merged into detail, for
the eye-piece was now above water. The period of exposure was but a
few brief seconds, but it was sufficient to show a large Turkish
transport moored alongside the Galata Quay, and in the act of shipping
troops as fast as the men could pass along the gangways.
Huxtable rapped out an expression of annoyance. He had made the
discovery that the submarine was in the clutches of a strong current.
The chance, then, of "getting home" with a torpedo was doubly
difficult, for already the British craft was well on the transport's
quarter.
"Down to thirty-four; charge firing-tank; flood both torpedo-tubes;
stand by!" he ordered, with hardly a break between the terse commands.
"All ready, sir," replied the leading torpedoman smartly.
For three minutes the submarine forged ahead diagonally against the
current. The Lieutenant-Commander intended the range to be a short one.
"At fifteen feet. Fire!"
Barely had the torpedoes left the tubes when the submarine dived again.
Swept by the current, in addition to the "easy ahead" movement of the
motors, she rapidly left the scene of her latest activities, to the
accompaniment of a hot fusillade. The Turkish gunners on the shore
batteries were madly blazing away at every visible object of wreckage
from the stricken troop-ship, while the British craft glided serenely
out of the danger area.
Yet, in spite of the risk of being plugged by a shell, Huxtable felt
compelled to have a look at the work of destruction. The transport was
already on the bottom, with a pronounced list to starboard and away
from the quayside. Hundreds of panic-stricken troops were lining her
shoreward side or leaping frantically to land.
"At all events the survivors won't show up at the Dardanelles in a
hurry," remarked Huxtable. "Now to save ourselves."
Down went the submarine to sixty feet, a course being shaped for the
Bosphorus; but before the vessel had covered a distance of half a mile,
a dull grating sound announced that she had run heavily upon a shingle
bank.
Caught by the current her stern swung round, till, pinned broadside on
by the rush of water, she lay rocking sluggishly on the bed of the sea.
To obtain her bearings by means of the periscope would mean destruction
by the powerful shore batteries. To attempt to rise to clear the bank
would result in the submarine being swept into shoal water before she
could answer her helm. All that could be done was to deprive her of
all her available controllable buoyancy, in order to resist the
pressure of the surging stream, and await the horrors of darkness.
For defensive work in her proper role the submarine was now useless.
She had fired her last pair of torpedoes. On the surface she might be
able to put up a fight by means of her two quick-firers, but against
destroyers and shore-batteries these weapons were quite inadequate.
Night drew on. With the setting of the sun powerful search-lights
swept the Golden Horn to the Bosphorus, while the now alert Turkish
gunners stood by their guns, ready at the first sight of a periscope to
send the Giaours to Eblis, for there was a strong suspicion that the
daring British craft would still be lurking in the vicinity in order to
attempt another act of destruction.
"Time, I fancy," declared Huxtable, as the hands of the clock on the
wall of the conning-tower pointed to the hour of midnight. Officers
and men heaved a sigh of relief. Anything seemed better than lying
motionless on the bed of the channel.
It was inexpedient to start the motors. The submarine must be raised
under the influence of her reserve of buoyancy until there was no
chance of her propeller blades being snapped off by contact with the
shoal.
The periscope showed nothing beyond a confusing display of
search-lights. Huxtable took the craft up still more until her
conning-tower was awash. To his surprise he found that the submarine
was drifting almost across the bows of a large coal-hulk, which was
moored about two hundred yards from shore. A similar type of vessel
lay fifty yards from, and abreast of, the hulk. Both craft, owing to
their being practically denuded of coal--a commodity of which the Turks
were greatly in need--towered high out of the water. There were no
signs of ship-keepers. Darkness and solitude seemed to be in sole
possession.
In a flash Huxtable realized that, if he could make fast alongside one
of the hulks, the submarine would be in comparative shelter from the
piercing rays of the search-lights, since the second hulk would screen
his craft from the direct play of their beams.
It was a desperate move, but like most desperate operations its
audacity almost promised success. With a slight, almost imperceptible
shock, one of the protective girders encircling the submarine engaged
the mooring chain of the hulk. Round swung the submarine, and before
she could slip from the embrace of the heavy chain two of her crew,
emerging through the fore-hatch, deftly bent a wire hawser to one of
the links, and, cautiously checking the boat's way, succeeded in
bringing her alongside the coaling craft.
No hail came from this vessel. The hulk was seemingly deserted.
Having no supplies on board, the Turkish authorities did not see the
necessity of keeping watchmen there, or else the ship-keepers had taken
a chance of going ashore.
Huxtable's command was not a second too soon in bringing up alongside,
for a search-light playing full upon the hulk silhouetted her outlines
and threw a deep shadow athwart the submarine.
Lying at full length upon the wet deck, the two seamen awaited the
order to cast off should necessity arise, while the
Lieutenant-Commander, thrusting his head and shoulders through the
conning-tower hatchway, made a deliberate survey of the limited expanse
that met his gaze.
"Dashed if I know where we are," he exclaimed, for owing to the
extinguishing of the recognized navigation lights, the almost total
absence of lamps ashore, and above all the disconcerting glare of the
search-lights, the skipper was unable to fix his position.
"May I have a look round, sir?" asked Dick. "I've put in part of a
commission in these waters."
"Do so, by all means," replied Huxtable warmly. "Only take care you
don't get spotted. If you are, make a blind rush for the
conning-tower. Every second would be precious."
Clambering through the hatchway the Sub gained the limited space formed
by the navigation platform. He, too, found that the hulls of the two
hulks obstructed his view.
"I'll get on board this craft," said Dick, indicating the hulk
alongside of which the submarine was lying. "It seems quite deserted."
"Carry on, then!" assented the Lieutenant-Commander; "but, mind you, we
don't want to have to leave you behind."
"And I'm sure I don't want to be left," said Crosthwaite with a laugh.
"I'll exercise caution."
The hulk was fitted with parallel rows of horizontal wooden ledges to
serve as fenders. At whatever depth she drew--for her draught varied
considerably according to the quantity of coal stowed on board--one of
these fenders would always be in contact with any craft that happened
to be lying alongside. Between the ledges were wooden ladders, to
enable the ship-keepers to board from a boat.
Carefully making his way along one of the struts that held the
anti-mine-girder to the side of the submarine, Dick swung himself upon
the nearest fender. Then, swarming up a ladder until his head was on a
level with the hulk's upper deck, he took a careful survey.
The craft looked a picture of desolation. Unshipped derricks, tackle,
and a confused heap of ropes littered the limited deck space, for the
greater portion was taken up by uncovered hatches. Under the break of
the poop hung a large drum, which in Ottoman vessels takes the place of
a ship's bell. Close to it were a long-necked earthenware vessel and a
platter. These were the only signs of human occupation. The
watch-keepers, if they were still on board, must be either deaf or
sound asleep.
With his boots crunching the thick deposit of coal-dust Dick crept aft,
and, satisfying himself that the cabin under the poop was deserted,
ascended the rickety ladder.
Here he was comparatively safe from detection by the search-lights, for
the poop was enclosed by tow bulwarks.
"Ah, I know where we are," thought the Sub, as from his elevated
position he caught sight of the dome of the Mosque of Omar and a
cluster of minarets that, marking the position of Constantinople, stood
out distinctly against the loom of the distant search-lights of the
forts on the northern shores of the Sea of Marmora. "That's good
enough."
He proceeded to retrace his footsteps. As Huxtable had said, every
second was of importance. At any moment an inquisitive patrol-boat
might put in an appearance under the stern of the hulk, and although
the surprise might be mutual, the submarine would run a serious risk of
being rammed unless the Turkish officer in charge lost his head
completely.
Just as Dick was about to descend the poop-ladder, a giant beam of
light was flung athwart the deck. It was a search-light from Kadi
Kohr, one of the forts on the Scutari side of the Bosphorus. Instantly
the Sub flung himself upon the coal-dusty deck. As he did so he became
aware that in the waist of the hulk a Turk was intently peering over
the side at the British submarine.
Apparently he was puzzled as to her nationality. It was quite possible
that he had not heard anything concerning the sinking of the Ottoman
cruiser and the transport. On the other hand, German submarines were
hourly expected at Constantinople, yet there was no valid reason why
one should stealthily make fast alongside a coaling-hulk. Coal was of
no use to her.
Suddenly something aroused his suspicions. Running aft, the Turk
snatched up a drumstick and began to belabour the drum with all the
energy at his command.
Realizing that the "game was up" and that he must regain the submarine
with all dispatch, Dick left his place of concealment and scurried down
the poop-ladder. As he did so the watch-keeper sought to intercept
him, brandishing an iron crowbar above his head. Down swept the
formidable weapon, but by leaping nimbly aside the Sub avoided the
blow. The next instant his fist struck the Turk a heavy blow on the
point of the chin, stretching him senseless on the deck.
Then, for no apparent reason, Dick tore the drum from its support and
hurled it over the side. It was a sort of satisfaction to get rid of
the instrument that had raised the alarm.
By this time a dozen search-lights were concentrated on the coal-hulk,
with the result that the submarine lying on the lee side was in even
greater darkness.
Fumbling for the topmost rung of the ladder over the hulk's side, Dick
sought to find a means of descending to the British craft. It was
impossible to see where he was going. He had to rely solely upon his
sense of touch.
"Hurry up there!" sang out the Lieutenant-Commander impatiently, for he
could see Crosthwaite's form silhouetted against the blaze of electric
light.
There was no time to be lost. Patrol-boats were already hastening to
the scene. Judging his distance Dick leapt, falling into the sea
between the submarine and the hulk, and fortunately missing any of the
struts that supported the horizontal girders. As he rose to the
surface the two seamen who had remained on deck to cast off the hawser
grabbed him by the shoulders and hauled him into safety.
[Illustration: "THE TWO SEAMEN HAULED HIM INTO SAFETY"]
Just then a furious burst of quick-firing guns shook the air. With
complete indifference to the fact that half a dozen of their own
patrol-boats were hastening towards the hulk, the nearest batteries had
opened fire.
Fortunately the patrol-boats flung about and steamed off from the
danger-zone as hard as their engines could go.
"What are those fools firing at?" asked Huxtable, making way for the
dripping form of the Sub as he descended the conning-tower hatchway.
The Lieutenant-Commander knew that the batteries were not firing at the
British craft, for she was quite invisible to the gunners. The shells
were churning the water all around a dark object drifting with the
current.
It was the drum which Dick had thrown overboard. Picked up by the
united glare of a dozen search-lights, ineffectually shelled by twenty
or thirty quick-firers, the drum floated serenely towards the Bosphorus.
Huxtable saw his chance and took it. So intent were the Turkish
gun-layers upon blowing to pieces what they imagined to be the
conning-tower of the hostile submarine, that neither they nor the men
working the search-lights thought of anything else. Save for the
shell-torn water in the immediate vicinity of the drifting drum, the
sea was shrouded in intense darkness.
"Cast off there!" ordered the Lieutenant-Commander; "diving stations."
As soon as the two seamen had regained the interior of the vessel,
hatches were closed and secured, and the submarine, with her
conning-tower just awash, forged gently ahead against the stream. Then
under the action of her horizontal rudders she quickly slipped beneath
the surface and dived to sixty feet.
"Here we are, sir," reported Dick, indicating on a chart the position
of the submarine. "A course due east will take us towards the centre
of the Bosphorus, and in the direction of Scutari."
"Good!" ejaculated Huxtable. "Crosthwaite, you're a rattling good
fellow. It was a smart idea of yours, slinging the drum overboard. It
drew their fire splendidly. I don't suppose the rotten gun-layers have
settled it yet."
Dick said nothing in reply. Already he realized that his action had
been done on the spur of the moment. The good result was simply a
fluke. It seemed an absurd thing to have to confess that he had
jettisoned the drum merely as an act of pique. Huxtable took his
silence as a sign of modesty, and was still further impressed by the
Sub's forethought.
The submarine came to rest on the bed of the sea. To plough blindly
through the darkness was to court disaster. Her commander's plan was
to await the first blush of dawn, ascend and take a rapid bearing, and
then shape a course for the broad expanse of the Sea of Marmora. As he
had expected, the Turks imagined that their daring assailant was one of
the Russian flotilla of submarines, and their chief attentions were
centred upon preventing its return to the Black Sea by means of the
twenty-four miles of narrow, intricate waterway between the two inland
seas.
At daybreak the submarine made a cautious ascent. Almost as soon as
the periscope showed above the surface, Huxtable gave vent to an
exclamation of mingled surprise and annoyance, for depicted upon the
object-bowl was a large cruiser, lying at anchor within easy torpedo
range.
It was the recreant _Goeben_. The Turco-German battle-cruiser bore
distinct traces of the rough handling she had undergone. Her lofty,
grey-painted sides were holed in several places, both of her funnels
were perforated, while two of her big guns had been removed, either
because the turret had been put out of action, or else because the huge
weapons were badly wanted for shore defence. In addition she was badly
trimmed, and showed a decided list to starboard.
"Just our luck!" grunted Huxtable as he promptly caused the submarine
to dive once more. "I would give anything for a torpedo; we couldn't
possibly miss her at this range."
Ten minutes later another view was obtained through the periscope.
Ahead lay the Sea of Marmora: the hazardous return voyage had begun in
earnest.