A BRITISH SHELL
The caravan jostled its way through the crowded streets of Trebizond
towards the landing-place. The port was in a state of exceeding
liveliness. Ships were loading and unloading in the harbour; caravans
were starting for the interior; and throngs of people of various
nationalities made kaleidoscopic patterns as they moved about in dresses
of every hue, the Persians conspicuous by their high black caps and long
green robes reaching to the ankles.
Kopri's mule train was directed towards a small coasting steamer, lying
alongside the quay, in which the contractor was a part owner. She had
arrived the previous day with arms and ammunition from Constantinople,
and was to leave again that night on her return voyage, which would be
interrupted only by a call at Sinope to take in coal. Large crates of
her recently unshipped cargo lay on the quay, awaiting transport, and
though most of them were covered with tarpaulins, Frank noticed that
many bore German marks. Having given orders for the stowment of his
cargo, Kopri went to an inn overlooking the bay to pick up what news was
bruited. He left Joseph in charge, and recommended that Frank should go
on board, ostensibly as shipping clerk, so as to be out of harm's way.
The perishable merchandise was quickly stowed away below; the bales of
carpets strewed the deck.
When the contractor returned some hours later, he said that Trebizond
was greatly excited by a report that British and French warships had
begun to bombard the forts at the entrance of the Dardanelles. It was
said, too, that Russian torpedo boats had been seen outside the harbour,
and the harbour-master had refused to allow the vessel to leave that
night. Frank wondered whether he had escaped from the hands of Turkish
officers only to fall a victim to a Russian gun. He remained on board
all night, looking forward with more interest than uneasiness to what
next day might bring forth.
Early in the morning the skipper was about to cast off when a messenger
came up from the military authorities ordering the vessel to await the
arrival of an important passenger. Kopri was irked by the delay, and
had worked himself up into a state of nervous agitation when, after the
lapse of nearly two hours, the passenger arrived. And then his
nervousness almost betrayed him: the passenger was Hermann Wonckhaus. He
had discarded his crutch, but walked stiffly over the gangway, and at
once demanded that the captain's cabin should be given him. Frank was
standing by the forecastle when the German came on board, and he
instantly turned his back on him. He felt that his disguise was not so
complete as that Wonckhaus would not recognise him, and wished that he
had aged his appearance by the addition of a beard. When the steamer put
out to sea, he was careful to keep out of the German's sight, which was
the less difficult because they were naturally in different parts of the
vessel, and under the brisk north wind the sea was sufficiently choppy
to keep Wonckhaus in his cabin, prostrate with sickness. He did not
reappear until they had left Sinope with their cargo of coal, and then
he urged the skipper to hug the shore as closely as possible and to make
all speed for Constantinople: seasickness and the dread of a Russian
attack had made him nervous. The breeze had moderated, and Frank from a
safe coign of vantage watched Wonckhaus pacing the deck in conversation
with Kopri. Presently the German sat down to rest on one of the bales
of carpet, and Frank's heart leapt to his mouth: the bale thus
unwittingly chosen for a seat was Mirza Aga's rug. Kopri moved away to
speak to the skipper, and Wonckhaus, left alone, began by force of
commercial habit to peer at the bales by which he was surrounded. He
lifted the covering of one at his right hand, and was stooping to
examine the one on which he was sitting, when Joseph, hovering near,
suddenly gave a shout and pointed excitedly seaward. Wonckhaus sprang up
and went to the side, with the skipper, Kopri, and some of the crew.
"A dark speck on the skyline," cried Joseph, with outstretched finger.
The group peered anxiously across the watery expanse; the skipper raised
his telescope.
"Where? Where?" cried Wonckhaus, hastily unstrapping his field-glasses.
Joseph only pointed. Nothing could be seen. They continued to gaze for
some minutes, and then the skipper declared that Joseph must have been
mistaken. The false alarm had effectually diverted Wonckhaus's
attention from the carpets. He remained at the side, sweeping the
horizon every now and then with his glasses, and he even ordered his
meals to be brought him on deck, lest if he went below the dreaded
warships should heave in sight. Joseph's quick wit had once more served
his master well.
It was a sunny afternoon when the vessel steamed between the well-wooded
shores of the entrance to the Bosporus. To Frank the scene was too
familiar to hold any fresh charm; but his interest was quickened when he
noticed the long low shapes of the _Goeben_ and the _Breslau_ at anchor
in the strait. There were signs of repairing work proceeding on the
former. Wonckhaus, who had now recovered his courage, talked to Kopri
about the vessels with swelling pride, while Joseph superintended the
rolling of the carpets to the side in preparation for unloading. Frank
was not quite easy in mind until Wonckhaus had crossed the gangway and
disappeared among the crowd on the quay.
The cargo was unloaded, Kopri undertaking to convey the precious carpet
to a place of security. Frank remained on board until the contractor
should return with information that might guide his future course. That
information was not reassuring. The British residents who had not been
able to get away from Constantinople in November were more or less under
arrest. For the present Frank must remain an Armenian. And since Kopri
had been ordered, instead of returning to Trebizond, to take on some
heavy crates and proceed at once to Panderma and Gallipoli, it seemed
better that he should remain on the vessel until she reached the latter
place, and then seek an opportunity of getting into Greece or Bulgaria.
The new cargo was brought on board without delay. It consisted of heavy
cases, which Kopri surmised to contain ammunition, and quantities of
food stuffs for Gallipoli, whither troops were being despatched in all
haste both by land and sea. Several German and Turkish officers came
aboard when the cargo had been stowed, and Frank was annoyed and
somewhat alarmed to see that Wonckhaus was among them. It was irksome
to him to be continually on the watch, dodging the German.
The vessel ran down the Sea of Marmora to Panderma, the terminus of the
Smyrna railway, where some of the officers disembarked with the heavy
cases. Frank was on deck when these were swung out of the hold. As one
of them was in mid-air the tackle broke, and the case fell heavily on to
the quay, striking its edge. In spite of the iron bands that held it
together it broke open, and one of the Turkish officers ordered Frank
among others standing by to run over and try to put it together. The
break disclosed the top of the periscope of a submarine. Frank had time
to notice the label of the case: it was addressed "Adramyti." But he
saw no more, for a German captain rushed up in a rage, drove off the
crowd that was gathering, peremptorily ordered the crew to return to the
ship, and hurled volleys of abuse at the men in charge of the crane.
The vessel cast off the same evening and arrived at Gallipoli soon after
dawn. It had hardly come to its moorings when the air vibrated with a
heavy boom. A big gun had started work far away. Every half-minute, as
it seemed, during the unloading of the vessel, the booming sound was
repeated, and Frank thrilled with excitement at the bombardment neither
the source nor the effects of which he was able to see.
When the cargo had been removed, he went on shore with Joseph, and
wandered about the beach, discussing the past and the future. It was
now noon, the sun was bright, and Frank was debating whether to go for a
swim in spite of the cold breeze when a slight buzzing in the air caused
him to look up. For some minutes he saw nothing in the cloudless sky,
though the sound increased; but presently he caught sight of a speck far
aloft, moving in a line that would soon bring it straight overhead.
It enlarged, soaring on like some strange bird.
"One of our aeroplanes," said Frank.
"Where shall we run?" asked Joseph, alarmed.
"We had better not run at all. It may be only scouting, not out for
dropping bombs: and if it does drop a bomb, it will be on the wharves.
We are safer here on the open beach."
"But he might aim at the wharves and hit us," Joseph protested.
"I think better of our men," replied Frank with a smile; "but to please
you, we'll get away into that pocket in the cliffs yonder."
They hastened across the beach to the left. At the same moment the
aeroplane slightly changed its course and seemed to be following them.
Joseph in a panic darted to the right. Frank stood still, watching the
droning machine with a curious interest devoid of fear. It passed
overhead, at the rate of an express train. Joseph was moving back
slowly when a long wail came down the sky. Next moment there was a
crash. Joseph flung himself face downward on the sand. Frank had jumped
a little, but his gaze had passed downward from the aeroplane to the
wharf. A huge column of smoke, dust, splinters of wood had risen just
at the end of the landing-place. Men were running about in all
directions, horses and mules were galloping, maddened oxen were
lumbering away with heavy-laden wagons; and the humming bird soared on
serenely.
When the agitation was stilled and order restored, Kopri beckoned up the
two young men.
"I have now a little leisure, effendim," he said to Frank. "I propose
to take you to the house of a good friend of mine, on the cliff yonder
overlooking the plain. He is a man of my race, and with him you may
dwell in safety until such time as your future course is made clear."
He led the way up through the pleasant little town. The streets were
thronged with Turkish soldiers in ill-fitting uniforms. The town was
the base of the army operating farther down the peninsula, and
accommodated the headquarters staff. Among the numerous officers Frank
noticed several Germans. From the heights he had a good view of the
bay, in which lay a dozen transports, while caiques, with cases of
ammunition bulging over their high sides, were passing to and fro
between the European and the Asiatic shores.
Kopri halted at a little house at almost the highest point of the town.
On being admitted, he was met by a patriarchal Armenian named Benidin, a
merchant of standing, to whom he introduced Frank under his own name.
The old man was greatly perturbed on learning that his visitor was an
Englishman.
"My friend," he said to Kopri, "it is not well, that which you have
done. The town is not safe, even for me. Already I have sent my family
away; at any moment I may have to flee for my life, and if it is
discovered that an Englishman lodges with me, my days are numbered. The
town swarms with spies. Every man is spying on his neighbour. It will
be far better for your friend, and for me also, if he returns in your
vessel to Constantinople, and makes his way thence to the Bulgarian
frontier."
The old man's distress was so patent that Frank at once assented to his
suggestion.
"It is not fair to involve you in my troubles," he said. "I will leave
at once."
"It will be two or three days before I can take you back," said Kopri.
"I am ordered to go on to Chanak with ammunition for the forts. Benidin
will perhaps give you shelter until I return."
"I will do so much for you, Kopri, in the name of our old friendship,"
said the merchant after some hesitation. "If the English gentleman will
remain strictly within doors, he shall be my honoured guest. That must
be the firm condition. And I pray that your return be speedy, Kopri,
for I know not that I shall be safe even for two days. There came
yesterday from Stamboul a large reinforcement of Kurds, who being
hillmen will be useful to the army in the heights. You know them, my
friend. At any moment the blood passion may burst forth; they may begin
to hunt for men of our unhappy race. Then I must flee, and I dare not
take the Englishman with me. He will be left to his own devices."
"I go to-night," said Kopri, "and in two days I will return. It is but
a little while, and the Germans here will keep the Kurds in order."
"Alas! I have no great confidence in them," said Benidin. "Their
emperor has never stayed the massacres of our people, and though his
officers are stern with the Turks for their own ends, they will, I fear,
show no sympathy for us. Then have I the Englishman's promise?"
Much against the grain, yet unable to contest the wisdom of the old
man's condition, Frank gave his word not to leave the house until Joseph
returned to take him on board. Kopri and his son remained with Benidin
until the evening, then went down to the harbour.
Next day Frank mooned about, finding nothing to occupy him, restive
under this new confinement, and uncomfortable because of his host's
nervousness. The old man started at every sound, and twisted his hands
in panic fright if Frank approached the window. There were sounds of
great activity in the bay--the snorting of tugs, the clang of donkey
engines, and the rattle of chains, reverberated in a hundred echoes from
the hills. Frank longed to see what was going on; but there was nothing
for it but to be patient; after all, another day would see his release.
On the following morning, just after the weird notes of a Turkish
trumpet had announced the dawn, there came the rumble of distant guns,
which continued like a remote prolonged thunderstorm for some hours. In
the afternoon, when Frank was sitting with Benidin in an upper room,
they were startled by a tremendous boom close at hand.
"A shell from a big gun," cried Frank, springing up.
"Keep away from the window," the Armenian pleaded. "I do not fear your
English shells as much as I fear the Turks. I will go out and see what
is happening."
Frank was left to himself. He wondered whether an aeroplane had dropped
another bomb on the harbour. The fact was that the British fleet had
begun to bombard the town by indirect fire from the Gulf of Saros. When
Benidin descended into the town, he found the people fleeing in all
directions. Many were hurrying to the caves which cut into the cliffs.
The largest of these had already been appropriated by the headquarters
staff.
A few minutes after Benidin had left the house, a second bang shook the
place, shattering the glass. Frank's heart beat fast as he looked out
of the window: there was no danger at this moment that any one would
notice him. Towards the harbour he saw a geyser of black smoke
spreading its top in the air. Then he was conscious of a rushing
humming sound coming towards him. He looked up with curiosity. Nothing
could be seen. Suddenly there was a tremendous crash on the roof of the
house. The place collapsed like a house of cards, and Frank, in the
first conscious second of his fall, heard an ear-splitting explosion,
accompanied by a blinding flash, and felt sharp blows upon every part of
his body. Then he knew no more.