told him. "I'll look after everything. You do look a prize burglar!"
He found the Commander. "Yes, you are to go across in a trawler--about
five o'clock. The Captain wishes to see you."
So aft he went, and found Captain Macfarlane in his cabin smoking a
cigarette, as usual.
"Hum!" he said, smiling when he saw how unkempt the Orphan looked, his
face dirty, and his clothes hardly dry from last night's soaking. "Hum,
Mr. Orpen! We don't seem to be able to carry on this war without you,
do we? You have to go across to 'W' beach to-night, and you'll probably
be there for some time."
"Are they going to evacuate Helles, sir?" the Orphan asked.
"I expect you will be able to tell me that, when you've been there a few
days. You were out in that gale last night, I hear, and the only one of
those five boats to get back. Hum! You seem lucky."
"We had 'Kaiser Bill' on board. Old Fletcher, the stoker, made me take
him."
"Oh! was that it?" smiled the Captain, tugging his beard. "Well, off
you go, and good luck to you! You'll have plenty of shells to
dodge--over there. You'd better take 'Kaiser Bill' with you."
"I will, sir, if Fletcher lets me." And the Orphan, hugely happy and
delighted, went away to the gun-room to tell all his adventures.
At four o'clock that afternoon Bubbles and the Orphan stood at the top
of the accommodation ladder, with all the clothes and gear they wanted
in two ordinary sailor's kit-bags, and their bedding made up in two
bundles. On top of the bundles rested "Kaiser Bill's" wooden box, with
the tortoise inside. Old Fletcher had come aft, and was "fussing" round
him.
"We'll look after him all right. Thank you for lending him!" they
called out as they went down into the Hun's steam pinnace. "Kaiser
Bill" and their gear were carried down after them, and the Hun took them
across to the waiting trawler.
By five o'clock the _Achates_ was once more out of sight, and the
trawler was steaming towards Cape Helles with the remnants of last
night's gale on her starboard beam. The two midshipmen both wore once
again the khaki which the Fierce One had forbidden, the same clothes
they had worn when they left "W" beach at the end of May, six months and
a half ago; and they felt supremely happy, crouching in the lee of the
trawler's galley, and watching the island of Kephalo gradually fading
out of sight till darkness hid it altogether.
At half-past six the trawler ran alongside a sunken steamer--the outer
hulk of Pier No. 1; a steamboat came for them, and landed them and their
gear at No. 3 Pier--the pier they had watched being commenced by the
Sappers the very day of the landing. By the light of a single lantern
they found the Pier-master--a Sub-lieutenant, R.N.R.--and were ordered
to report themselves to the Naval Transport Officer.
"You'd better go up to the Mess," the R.N.R. Sub told them. "You'll
probably find him up there."
He gave them two men to carry their gear, and with "Kaiser Bill" under
the Orphan's arm they stumbled along the pier in the dark till their
feet scrunched into the sand on "W" beach.
"What a time since we were here!" Bubbles blurted out; and: "Isn't it
grand to get back again?" the Orphan chuckled.
There were no flares now, the shore was absolutely dark.
They started off along the beach towards where the main gully road used
to be; but everything had so changed, and it was so dark, that they soon
had to let the two seamen with their bundles lead the way--off that
beach, up a broad, firm road, turning to the left along a narrow path,
then down some wooden steps, and so to a dark "cutting" in the side of
the slope, at the end of which a glow of light showed through
half-opened folding-doors.
"Here's the Officers' Mess, sir. Glad to see you on shore, sir," said
one of the seamen; and the Orphan recognized Plunky Bill's voice.
"Hello! You here? How are things going?"
"Pretty quiet, sir; nothing much doing."
"Are they going to evacuate the place?"
"I ain't 'eard nothing. We've been landing a good many of the soldiers
round from Suvla--a good show--down there, sir. I ain't 'eard nothing
about nobody going off."
Bubbles, looking in through the doors and seeing no one inside, asked
him where the Sub was.
"Don't see much of him, sir. I works down at No. 1 Pier--mostly. Well,
we'll stick your gear 'ere. Some of the officers will be a-coming up
soon."
"'Kaiser Bill' has come along--for luck," the Orphan said; and Plunky
Bill stepped into the lamp-light from the half-open door to have a look
at him in his box.
"'E will bring luck all right, sir. I wish we'd 'ad 'im at that there
Ajano place."
Then they were left alone, went inside through the door--evidently the
folding-doors from the saloon of one of the sunken steamers--into a
pantry sort of place, through it into a long room some 9 feet high, 20
feet long, and 12 feet broad, with a wooden floor and a wooden ceiling,
from which an oil-lamp hung--the lamp which had glowed through the
doorway--over a long wooden table littered with newspapers, and with a
wooden bench on either side of it. At the far end was a
fire-place--alight and burning cosily--some deck chairs round it, a
packing-case full of coal in the corner, and a very dilapidated
card-table.
"Look how they make cupboards!" said Bubbles excitedly, and pointed to
two shell-boxes let into the clay walls. "Isn't that 'cute'?"
Then from outside came a loud voice. "My jumping Jimmy! D'you think
I'm going to land a hundred tons of hay a night like this? Not if I
know it. It would all get soaked. Tell him to wait till the morning;
the sea will have gone down by then."
The Sub came in, calling out: "Outside! Outside! Pantry! Pantry!
Bring me a bottle of beer!" And seeing the two midshipmen, burst out
with: "Yoicks, my merry kippers! My bubbling Bubbles! My perishing
Orphan! Pantry! Pantry! Bring three bottles!"
"They've sent you two here, have they? Good egg! Well, you'll have
lots to do, and a lot of shell-dodging. They've got a better brand in
stock now--burst every time. Hello! There goes one!" he said, as the
roaring thud of a bursting shell came from somewhere up the ridge, and
some bits of dried clay broke away from the walls and rattled down on
the wooden floor. "That fell in the Ordnance Stores. They've had a lot
there lately."
"Where's it from? Achi Baba?" asked the Orphan.
"Old 'Asiatic Annie'--a 6-inch. She's a confounded nuisance. What
d'you think of my 'dug-out'? Come and see where I 'pig' it;" and the
Sub took them past the fire-place into a little room beyond, and,
flashing his electric torch, showed them two beds, a small table,
cupboard places in the mud walls, a stove, and two little
wash-stands--evidently taken out of a ship. "We've got lots of stuff
from these sunken hulks. Snug little place, isn't it?--especially when
we light the stove in the corner."
"Are we going to live here?" the midshipmen asked.
"Good heavens, no, my wriggling worms! You won't live with the
aristocracy. Come along, and I'll show you your 'pigsty'--another
'dug-out', which we call the dormitory."
A fine-looking old Leading Seaman, an old Naval Reserve man named
Richards--he may have been fifty, he may have been sixty--came in with
the three glasses of beer, just as another tremendous roar shook the
wooden beams overhead and made the tin lamp-shade rattle--it sounded not
twenty yards away.
"In the Sappers' place, that one, sir; they're starting early to-night,"
the old chap said, putting the tray on the table.
"Send these officers' gear round to the dormitory; you'll find it
outside," the Sub told him.
"They've gone already, sir," Richards said.
"What's on top of those beams?" the Orphan asked, a little anxiously, as
another roaring explosion thudded the air, not quite so near as the
last.
"A new tarpaulin, my Orphan! I stole it yesterday. It's waterproof,
too!"
"Can those things come in here?"
"There's nothing to prevent 'em," grinned the Sub. "Come along, and
we'll peg out a claim for you two in the dormitory. Hello! what the
devil have you got there?" he said, seeing "Kaiser Bill's" box on the
table, and opening it, roared with laughter. "Old Fletcher made you
bring him?"
"He made me take him for Suvla evacuation--for luck--and the Captain
told me I'd better bring him here, as he'd brought luck there."
"Are they going to evacuate this place?" they both asked at the same
time.
The Sub shook his head. "I don't think so. So you were at Suvla? Of
course you were; you'll have to tell me all about it. What a splendid
show that was! Our chaps here made a pretence of advancing that same
day--lost a lot of people."
By now he had taken them through the cutting. "That's the kitchen," he
said, as he took them out of the mess and they passed a place with a
light in it; "old Richards looks after it, and us, like a mother." He
led them through another deep cutting, and through an opening closed by
a door--evidently a door taken from the cabin of one of the sunken
hulks. "More loot," the Sub said, switching on his torch and leading
the way into a long place with a few planks laid over the clayey earth,
with earth walls and a timber roof. Six beds were already there, with
bags between them, and their own bundles lay, lonely, in the middle.
He showed them a corner where they could spread out their beds. "I'll
get some planks put there in the morning," he told them. "You'd better
come along and see the Captain now; he'll be up in his 'dug-out' by this
time, I expect."
As they went out on to the open slope, climbed up to a road which ran
immediately at the back of the dormitory, another high-explosive shell
burst high up the ridge, lighting up a few white tents.
The Orphan winced and Bubbles chuckled.
Then it was all dark again. "Mind those steps; keep close to me; here
we are," and the Sub took them along another cutting to the Naval
Transport Officer's "dug-out".
They found this naval Captain there, washing the sand off his face.
"Two of our midshipmen, sir; the two we expected."
He turned round--a short, thick-set man with a bullet-shaped, closely
cropped head--and he wiped the soap-suds off his mahogany-coloured face.
"All right; the Sub will show you where to go; glad to have you," and he
waved them away.
They went back towards the Mess.
"You'll have to take charge of a picket-boat," the Sub told Bubbles;
"and you, Orphan, will have to do odd jobs under me--all sorts of
things: cleaning up the camp, fetching coal, any old thing. Ah! look
out! here comes another!"
They heard the whistling swish of a shell, and then another glare, and
another tremendous explosion burst, just the other side of the Naval
Mess.
Instinctively they had thrown themselves down on the ground; something
hurtled past and buried itself in the sand close by; and as they
scrambled to their feet the Sub said angrily: "Confound them! Come
along back to the Mess; you can have a wash in my basin, and then it
will be time for dinner."
Two soldiers--a Major and a subaltern, the Military Landing Officers--a
R.N.R. lieutenant, and two R.N.R. sub-lieutenants came in at odd times
for dinner. The Sub hurried through his meal, put on a thick coat, and
warmed himself in front of the fire before going down to the beach.
"Is there much to do to-night?" asked one of the soldier officers--the
subaltern.
"Absolutely nothing, old chap, except to get off a tug, two steamboats,
something like half a dozen lighters driven ashore last night; try and
repair about twenty feet of No. 1 Pier washed away by the other gale,
and see what can be done with the 'Inner Hulk'--she broke her back when
the pier 'went', and we'll have to try and get a gangway across the gap;
otherwise I can't think of anything."
Two of the R.N.R. officers went with him, but he sent the two midshipmen
to turn in. Neither of them had had any proper sleep for three days,
and they both had been nodding and yawning, and looking stupidly tired
all through that meal.
So they turned in, put "Kaiser Bill" between them for luck, and slept
like "tops".
*CHAPTER XXIII*
*"In 'Dug-outs' at Cape Helles"*
Richards, that splendid old Leading Seaman who "ran" the Mess, brought
them both a cup of tea in the morning. "Four bells just struck, sirs;
breeze gone round to the north-east, pretty nippy outside it is, but
fine. Hands 'fall in' at half-past six." He lighted an oil-lamp and
left them.
Bubbles snuggled down under the blankets and would have gone to sleep
again, had not the Orphan pulled them off him and made him turn out.
They dressed hurriedly, saw that "Kaiser Bill" was safe in his corner;
and by seven o'clock, just before the dawn commenced, Bubbles had taken
charge of a very much battered, old picket-boat lying alongside No. 3
Pier; and the Orphan, with a party of five stokers, was sent up behind
the Mess to deepen a shallow gutter-way between it and the road, to
prevent rain washing off the road on to the top of the dormitory and
that new tarpaulin which the Sub had stolen.
He met the Sub coming back from his night's work on the beach, wet
through and very fagged. "I got some of those lighters off, but there's
another week's work down there at that job," he said.
When daylight came, the Orphan found that "W" beach had altered very
much since he had been there, six months and a half ago. The cliffs
beyond were crowned by a vast number of hospital tents and marquees;
where, previously, the horse and mule "lines" had been, tents and
marquees, and huge masses of stores, protected by tarpaulins, now
occupied these spaces, and the irregular sandy track up the gully to the
ridge had become a wide well-made road with well-metalled roads
branching away to left and right. Everywhere there were "dug-outs", not
open ones as in those early days, but covered with wooden or
galvanized-iron roofs, over which at least one protecting layer of
sand-bags had been laid. Motor-lorries dashed along the roads
continuously, and seemed to have taken the place of horses and mules
almost entirely.
Along the face of the steep cliff, on the far side of the gully from
where those one-inch Nordenfeldts and maxims had played such havoc among
the Lancashire Fusiliers on the day of the landing, a steep road had
been cut in the face of it, and the Orphan saw hundreds of "dug-outs" up
there.
Fifty yards below him was the beach itself, with its four little
piers--No. 1 Pier to his right, with a gap in it made by the first of
the south-west gales; beyond it the "Inner Hulk", a sunken steamer with
her back broken; and beyond her, at right angles, another sunken
steamer, the "Outer Hulk". At his feet was No. 2 Pier, the first pier
the Sappers had begun on the 25th April; and beyond this the longer No.
3 Pier, with its end curving towards the "Outer Hulk", so that a small
harbour[#] had been formed in which now lay two little "coaster"
steamers, several lighters, and a trawler.
[#] This harbour was called Port Talbot after the Captain of the poor
old _Majestic_.
Beyond and to the left, under the high cliff, was No. 4 Pier, more of a
mole or jetty than a pier, protected a little from the east by a reef of
rocks. It was on this pier that the Orphan, later on, had so much work
to do. Farther along still, several lighters had stranded, and one or
two were already broken up.
Out towards Tenedos and over against the Asiatic shore the usual
trawlers and drifters and a couple of destroyers patrolled for
submarines.
But what struck the Orphan most vividly was the emptiness of the Straits
between him and the Asiatic shore. In May they had been almost crowded
with battleships, transports, hospital ships, ships of all sorts and
sizes; now a solitary hospital ship lay off Helles, and only two or
three small craft and tugs were anchored inshore.
The Turks fired no shells that morning until the breakfast hour, when
two fell among the Sappers' stores and tents, without, however, doing
any damage.
After breakfast the Orphan and his stokers had more digging to do,
extending the beach party's "dug-outs" at the foot of the low cliff,
below the Mess "dug-out", and commencing others. Shells came over every
now and then all the morning, but none burst near the Orphan's party.
When they knocked off work and started dinner, the Turks over on the
Asiatic shore fired many big 6-inch high explosives, which did very
little material damage, though they racked his nerves exceedingly.
The Orphan never even pretended that he did not hate those shells; and
when, that afternoon, he received orders to take twenty men, embark in a
tug, and go down to Rabbit Island to draw coal, he felt extremely
pleased to get away from them. Rabbit Island is a tiny little island at
the mouth of the Straits, and when he arrived there he found two small
monitors with long-range guns busily bombarding the Asiatic guns. The
Turks were firing back, and when he went alongside the collier to get
his filled coal-bags, one of their wretched shells fell so close to the
tug as to splash the bows. The Orphan loaded his coal-bags and started
back to "W" beach, realizing that the only thing to do, if he meant to
enjoy himself, was simply not to think of shells at all. Of course, in
twenty-four hours he had made friends with Richards, that Leading
Seaman; and the old man could not help noticing that he flinched
whenever a big shell moaned through the air, and burst with its horrid,
rending roar. "Look here, sir," he said; "it's just like this: don't
you worry about them--it's no use worrying. If you're meant to be
killed, killed you will be, wherever you go or whatever you do; so just
pay no attention to them."
It is difficult for a youngster to take comfort from such a fatalistic
conviction; but by the end of the week the Orphan was able to tell
Bubbles that he had not "ducked" once during the last twenty-four hours.
"That shows I'm not such a duffer, doesn't it, old chap?" he said
proudly.
During those first few days a good deal of mysterious landing and
embarking of troops went on, which nobody seemed able to
explain--though, as far as anyone in the Naval Mess knew, many more were
coming than going. Also, it became known that the new-comers were
taking over--gradually--the French section of the line, and that French
troops and guns embarked every night. The Turks naturally knew that our
men were occupying the French trenches immediately opposite them, so
that there was no need for secrecy, and many of the French guns were
towed away from "V" beach in broad daylight. A tug would take away a
heavily loaded lighter at the end of a very long tow-rope, and "Asiatic
Annie" and her sisters often made "towing-target" practice at this
lighter and its guns--though without ever hitting them.
The Orphan himself never went to "V" beach, but Bubbles often did so,
and found quite a good harbour there, made by a big Messageries
Maritimes steamer sunk this side of the _River Clyde_ (apparently none
the worse for her seven months of being shelled), and an obsolete old
French battleship hulk--the _Massena_--sunk almost to close the gap
between them. Whenever the French happened to have a slack night, most
of the British nightly reinforcements (from the 9th Corps, which had
been at Suvla) landed there.
Christmas Day arrived, and the Turks greeted it with a more than usually
heavy shelling of both beaches, the Sappers' and Ordnance Store Depots
suffering considerably. This, and an extra good dinner that night--when
Richards produced two turkeys, obtained from one of the Greek islands,
and several officers contributed Christmas puddings and mince-pies, sent
from home by the Christmas mail--marked the day. Otherwise all work
went on as usual.
Every now and again the French battleship _Suffren_ came along up the
Straits, with her protecting destroyers and trawlers and her "spotting"
aeroplane, and bombarded the Asiatic guns for a couple of hours or so.
At other times a British battleship repeated the performance with even
greater zest; but though those annoying guns remained quiet whilst they
were being bombarded, they always opened a very vigorous fire on the
beaches directly the battleships had left.
On the other side of the Peninsula, round the "left flank" coast,
assisting destroyers very frequently harassed the Turkish trenches on
the Achi Baba right flank, and a big monitor almost daily bombarded Achi
Baba or Chanak Fort with her big 14-inch guns.
Everything went on as usual, and as though we intended to hold the end
of the Peninsula for ever.
Everyone in the Naval Mess was far too busy embarking and disembarking
troops and stores by night, preparing for the winter, strengthening
their "dug-outs", repairing piers, and patching damaged boats by day, to
know exactly what was happening up in the front-line trenches.
Intermittent artillery duels, at all hours of every day, went on in the
usual manner, and without any apparent especial military object. At
night, when working on the piers, they often heard furious bursts of
rifle and machine-gun firing, sometimes the bursting of trench bombs; at
times field-guns also used to "chip in" at night; but everyone had
become so accustomed to all this that no one paid any attention to it or
remarked about it.
Shells fell on the beaches and above them just as usual; 6-inch high
explosives came from the Asiatic side--two or three an hour--from
daylight until two o'clock next morning, at which time the Turkish
gunners "packed up". During the men's "stand easy", in the middle of
the day, perhaps twenty would come along; and again, at nine o'clock at
night, they would start fairly brisk firing for three-quarters of an
hour.
The Naval Camp, lying as it did just below the R.E. "Park", and not far
from the Ordnance Stores--both favourite targets of "Asiatic Annie
"--received a good many of her misses, and most of the "shorts" fell on
the beach itself. By this time the men working within this shell area
had become so accustomed and hardened to these intermittent noises of
shells shrieking towards them and bursting, that work was seldom
interrupted. At night, sentries along the beach would watch for the
glare made by the flash of the Asiatic howitzers, and would call out
"Take cover!" Eighteen seconds afterwards the shell, if fired at "V"
beach, would burst there; but if fired at "W" beach twenty seconds
elapsed, after the warning shout, before the shell could be heard
rushing through the night air with a rapidly increasing "swishing"
noise. In twenty-five seconds it arrived, burst with a very vivid flash
and that nerve-shaking, rending roar, and did whatever damage it had
found to do.
Sometimes, in the silence which followed, would be heard the melancholy
call, "Stretcher! Stretcher!" but most frequently a hole in the ground,
or a few scattered boxes of stores or bundles of fodder, alone marked
where it had fallen and burst.
From Achi Baba came the little 4.1-inch shells at all hours of the day.
People told the Orphan that some ten days after the
Belgrade-Nish-Constantinople railway had been reopened through conquered
Serbia, it became evident that the Turks were much more lavish with
their ammunition.
They must have received ample additional supplies, and, what was still
more noticeable, the new shells nearly always burst.
The Orphan gradually grew accustomed to these shells, but he was always
"mighty" glad when the two big "hates" of the day were finished.
Everyone had marvellous escapes; in fact, marvellous escapes were so
common that the recounting of them soon failed to interest others.
One morning the Orphan was sleeping soundly in the dormitory, and at
about ten o'clock Bubbles, who had somehow or other fallen overboard
from his picket-boat, ran up to shift his wet clothes, and could not
resist the temptation of waking up the Orphan. He had just commenced to
get some sense into him and make him take an interest in his accident,
when in through the roof smashed a shell, passed between the Orphan
sitting on his bed and Bubbles standing over him, buried itself in the
ground, and burst. Bubbles was thrown to the other side of the
dormitory, the Orphan found himself on top of an awakened and angry
R.N.R. Lieutenant, and all three, covered with dust, dashed through the
smoke out into the open air.
"Kaiser Bill!" the Orphan cried, darted back again, and brought out the
tortoise.
"He was under my bed, he wasn't quite buried; he doesn't seem to have
been hit."
They tried anxiously to make him put out his head, but he wouldn't.
Bubbles, seizing him, looked inside the shell. "He's all right," he
said, much relieved; "I saw his mouth move."
"I bet that he got the fright of his life,", Bubbles gurgled; and then
noticed that the Orphan's wrist, the right one, was bleeding, and that
blood was coming through his own soaked trousers. They found a small
cut on the Orphan's right wrist, and that Bubbles had a little gash
behind the left knee--quite trivial things, only requiring a bandage
round each. Actually, that was all the damage done to those two
midshipmen, although the shell had burst immediately behind and between
them.
"Fancy what might have happened if 'Kaiser Bill' had not been there,"
the superstitious Orphan, a little "shaken", kept saying.
The R.N.R. Lieutenant, having fixed them up with bandages, took them
inside the dormitory to dig their things out again and get the place
tidied up. They shook the sand and clay from their bedding; dug out the
clothes which had been lying on the floor; found some of the fragments
of the shell, probably a 4.1-inch from Achi Baba; looked at the jagged
hole in the wooden roof; and when Bubbles, having changed his wet
clothes, went away, limping a little, to take charge of his picket-boat
again, the other two turned in and slept until midday. Directly the
Orphan woke he hunted round for the tortoise, and felt greatly relieved
when he saw "Kaiser Bill's" cunning old head peeping out.
On the next night it blew hard from the north-east--away from the end of
the Peninsula. Unfortunately for Bubbles, he had the job, that night,
of towing a big Malta lighter, full of mules, out to a transport, and
when away from the shelter of the land something went wrong with the
tow-rope, and it fouled the screw of his picket-boat. Both lighter and
picket-boat drifted helplessly out to sea, and eventually became
separated. It was a bitterly cold night--so dark that you could not see
fifty yards in front of you, and two miles from the end of the Peninsula
a very unpleasant sea was running. The lighter full of mules drifted
away, but by some lucky chance stranded on Rabbit Island, and Bubbles in
his helpless, waterlogged picket-boat had the luck to be found and
picked up by a patrolling trawler, which towed him into safety.
He did not get back to "W" beach until long after daylight, and was then
sent up to get his breakfast and some sleep. For some reason or other,
his bed had been moved into the small "sleeping 'dug-out'" at the side
of the Mess opposite to the dormitory, and almost at the same hour as
the day before, a big shell from "Asiatic Annie" came in and completely
wrecked it. No one else slept there that morning, and he had a most
marvellous escape. The three empty beds, the wash-stands, and little
stove were destroyed, and a macintosh which he had pulled over his
blankets had several gashes torn in it, but he himself had not a
scratch. Old Richards, running in through the Mess, and unable to see
owing to the dust and smoke, switched on an electric torch and called
out "Are you all right, sir?" never thinking that he could possibly be
alive.
"I woke up," said Bubbles afterwards, bubbling over with excitement,
"and found the whole place blooming dark; everything seemed to be
tumbling down on top of me, and my hair was full of sand and stuff. I
couldn't think what was the matter, and the smell of the place was
simply beastly. It wasn't till old Richards came in, flashed his torch,
wanted to know whether I was alive or not, and told me a shell had come
in, that I knew what had happened. It spoilt that new macintosh I paid
one pound ten for yesterday up at the Ordnance, confound it!"
The rest of the morning Bubbles and Richards spent digging out his
"gear". They found his watch some two feet under the sand, still going,
but the glass cracked. The "dug-out" was completely wrecked and quite
uninhabitable.
He shifted back again into the dormitory, but had no more time for
sleep. "I'll stick nearer to old 'Kaiser Bill' another time," he told
the Orphan, poking fun at him and his superstitions.
The very next day, when on his way to the Mess for a hasty lunch, he
stopped to speak to Richards, the Leading Seaman, who had just come out
of the kitchen. At that moment a shell came past them, fell through the
open kitchen door, and burst inside. Richards calmly put down the tureen
of pea soup which he was carrying, and together they went in through the
smoke to see if anyone had been injured. One man lay dead, and another
had been badly cut about the shoulder by a splinter. He was carried
away immediately to the Casualty Clearing-station beyond the gully, and
the dead man covered up and removed. "Poor chap!" Richards muttered,
"he only landed two hours ago for the first time. It's a strange thing
how some get picked off, sir, isn't it?"
"Well, that's the third close shave for me--in three days too. I'll
tell the Orphan that. He'll think it tremendously lucky," Bubbles said.
"I shouldn't like to say that it isn't, sir," Richards replied
thoughtfully.
These three "experiences" seemed to have absolutely no effect on this
midshipman's nerves, and the Orphan marvelled at him, and despised
himself for hating and dreading shells so much.
By now they had made themselves quite cosy in their corner of the
dormitory; a sand-bag was placed over the shell hole in the roof; their
beds were raised from the ground on some planks; they looted a washstand
and a looking-glass from one of the hulks, and had much fun digging
"cupboards" for themselves in the clay walls.
"Kaiser Bill", too, seemed quite at home, and enjoyed his occasional
exercises on the slope below the Mess, waking up, sprinting gaily for
three or four yards, and then sulking because nothing green grew there.
However, they managed to get him green stuff occasionally, and in the
evenings, whenever they were off duty, they took him into the Mess after
dinner, and he became quite frisky in the warmth of the fire. Those
evenings were very jolly after a hard day's work and a good dinner,
sitting in "deck" chairs in front of the cheerful fire, yarning, and not
worrying much about the shells which, every now and then, burst along
the ridge and made the dry "clayey" walls shake bits down on the wooden
floor--not worrying about them, in spite of the fact that if one fell on
top of the Mess the Sub's tarpaulin and the timber roof would not keep
it out, nor would the long skylight hatchway, taken bodily out of one of
the hulks and now fitted into the roof of the Mess.
It was one of their amusements to see "Kaiser Bill" "duck" when he heard
a shell burst. He might be scampering over the floor--or the table--at
the rate of two feet a minute, with his head and neck stretched out, or
be nibbling enthusiastically at a piece of fresh cabbage leaf or onion
stalk; but directly he heard the thud and roar of a shell bursting,
however far away, in would go his head and legs, and nothing would
entice him to put them out again for at least half an hour.
Bubbles and the Orphan always placed him down between their bunks when
they turned in--for luck.
Food was good and plentiful--the army cheese simply grand; water was
fairly plentiful from wells and springs; as for the Ordnance stores,
they could supply everything from an electric torch to a stove, from a
wheelbarrow to a motor bicycle, from a pair of trench gloves to a pair
of india-rubber trench boots coming half-way up your thigh.
In fact, everything went on comfortably, and a week after the two
midshipmen had landed they had entirely forgotten about "evacuation",
and only thought it a joke when a Turkish aeroplane dropped the message:
"Good-bye, British soldiers; we know you are going, and are sorry to
lose you".
Flies had of course disappeared with the cold weather--disappeared long
ago, and the only bothering live things were rats--great, fat, sleek
fellows, who ran hurdle races round the dormitory at night to keep
themselves in good condition, jumping over the sleeping midshipmen and
the other officers there.
One night the Orphan met Bubbles, and saw by his face that something
unusual had occurred.
"What is it? Any news?"
"They're sending every one of those Greek labourers[#] away to-night.
They've given them two hours to pack up, and you and I have to embark
them. What does that mean, I wonder?"
[#] Some two hundred Greek labourers had been employed ever since the
landing, and had, for the most part, worked well; constantly under fire.
"Perhaps they've caught them spying; making signals or getting
information across to the Turks,' the Orphan suggested.
"I don't know; it's jolly rummy."
"There's a lot of ammunition to be landed to-night, some time after ten
o'clock," the Sub said, joining them. "You'll have to go out in the
lighter, Orphan, so you'll have a busy time."
Well, just before ten o'clock, when the Orphan had started to warp the
empty lighter away from No. 4 Pier, a messenger came down from the
N.T.O. to tell him that this ammunition was not to be landed, and he
heard afterwards that it went back to Mudros immediately.
This roused their curiosity; and when, next night, three lieutenants and
many more bluejackets arrived, and half a dozen of those motor-lighters
(the "water-beetles") and many more picket-boats came across from
Kephalo, everyone guessed that the final evacuation had been determined
upon.
And, on the last day of the year, Captain Macfarlane came to take charge
of the elaborate organization required to embark all the troops, guns,
horses, and stores without the knowledge of the Turks. He became Senior
Naval Transport Officer, and lived in his big "dug-out" along a path cut
in the cliff beyond the Naval Mess, and known as "Park Lane" because all
the senior officers had their "dug-outs" there.
The Sub, Bubbles, and the Orphan were immensely pleased that he had
come--he had such a kind, good-humoured way of giving orders, and
nothing ever flustered him.
From now onward, there were no more troops or stores to disembark; but
the work of sending away the enormous accumulation of stores, and of
gradually withdrawing troops, guns, horses, and mules, went on at high
pressure. This took place at night. After dark, transports and store
ships would come across from Kephalo or Mudros, anchor off "W" beach or
"V" beach (which now had been handed over by the French to the British),
and all through the dark hours large "soldier" working parties and the
Naval beach parties would toil, carrying down the most valuable of the
Ordnance and Sappers' and Commissariat stores, and loading them in
lighters (wooden lighters, which had to be towed, or motor-lighters).
When full, these would be sent off to the store ships, unloaded, and
sent back again. Every night a troop-carrier would come slowly
alongside the "Outer Hulk", make fast, and battalions of infantry, with
their baggage and their maxims, would be taken across to her in
motor-lighters from No. 3 Pier. Every night, too, many horses and many
mules went off to the big transports anchored farther out, and were
hoisted on board.
An hour and a half before dawn, every steamship, transport, and
troop-carrier had to be away and out of sight; and if, as the time for
departure arrived, any still had half-emptied lighters alongside, tugs
would dash out and bring them back. Nothing whatever was allowed to
delay these big ships, because upon their arrival and departure being
absolutely hidden from the Turks the whole success of the operation
depended.
At one time, before the first of those south-west gales had broken a gap
in No. 1 Pier, it had been possible to walk along it, then up a gangway
on board the "Inner Hulk", and from her to the "Outer Hulk", and so on
board anything lying alongside her. This had made the embarking and
disembarking of troops a very simple and rapid process; and as
simplicity and rapidity would be so necessary on the last night of the
evacuation, attempts were made to bridge the gap. The Orphan took part
in this, working in the day-time under the orders of the Pier-master, a
Naval lieutenant named Armstrong, a great solid man who always spoke
extremely deliberately, weighing every syllable, and never appearing to
get even mildly excited.
First of all a big pontoon was wedged in the gap, but did not quite fill
it; the vacant intervals were then closed by means of barrels lashed
stoutly together and held in place by wires and hawsers. If anything
did go wrong, Mr. Armstrong would fill his pipe and say: "I
say--my--blooming--oath--you--blokes--
will--have--to--reeve--another--pretty--big--wire--there"; or,
"I--say--Orpen--we--shall--have--to--
lay--out--another--anchor--go--round--and--find--
a--thundering--big--chap".
When at last these were all fixed to his liking, a broad wooden gangway
platform was laid over all, between the broken-away ends of the gap.
This business occupied two whole days, during which time the Orphan had
generally more wet clothes than dry.
"If--you--don't--take--care--you'll--get --your--feet--wet," Mr.
Armstrong told him one day, after he had been wading up to his waist in
the shallow water, on and off for an hour.
Troops now could march straight on board the "Inner Hulk", then across
to the "Outer Hulk", and so to whatever troop-carrier happened to be
alongside her. This naturally relieved the congestion at No. 2 and No.
3 Piers, from which horses and stores were embarked.
But the job which the Orphan liked best was down at No. 4 Pier, working
with the Sub and a very energetic warrant officer, getting off guns,
motor-lorries, motor field-workshops, "caterpillar" traction engines,
and motor ambulances.
Before dark they would get a couple of lighters alongside this pier,
make them fast to the wall, then dash up to the Mess for a rapid dinner,
and down again about an hour after dark, when the guns would commence to
come rumbling down the ridge to the beach--field-guns, stumpy howitzers,
and long 60-pounders.
Horse teams or "caterpillar" tractors dragged them through the sand to
just above No. 4 Pier, unhitched, and left them there with their
"crews". Then the beach party on the pier would make "fast" hook-ropes,
and hauling on them, whilst the artillerymen man-handled the spokes of
gun and limber wheels, along would come the gun and its limber, jolting
aboard the lighter.
One after the other the guns would be coaxed aboard until the lighter
could hold no more. Then the artillerymen, picking up their rifles and
kits, would scramble on board, squat down between the gun wheels, cling
on to the spokes, stow themselves away anywhere so long as they did not
get in the way of the lighter's crew, who now hauled on a warp-rope,
made "fast" to the end of No. 3 Pier, and warped the heavily laden
lighter away from the wall of No. 4 Pier.
A picket-boat, waiting there, would get hold of her, and tow her out to
the plucky and beautifully handled little tug T1. Then away she would
be towed by that tug to search for the transport which had anchored off
Cape Helles after dark. Presently the big ship would loom up, the
lighter would be towed alongside, made "fast" under a derrick, and left
there to unload. If any very heavy guns, or heavy, cumbrous things such
as motor-lorries or "caterpillar" tractors, went off, the Sub or the
Gunner always took charge of the lighter; but if the load consisted of
field-guns, or such things as "general service" wagons, he sent the
Orphan.
This was just the job the Orphan enjoyed--the taking charge of the
soldier officers and their artillerymen, the warping off from No. 4
Pier, the tow-out in the darkness of those very dark nights, the job of
getting his lighter safely secured to the big ship, and the delicate
business of safely slinging each gun and limber or wagon to the ship's
derrick "purchase". The purchase would be lowered with its great hook,
the slings of one gun slipped over it, the Orphan would shout "Hoist
away!" and whilst that gun dangled overhead in the dark, would busily
secure the slings to the next, so that time should not be wasted when
the purchase-hook came down again. It sometimes took a couple of hours
to unload a lighter, but this depended entirely upon the officers and
crew of the transport ship. One ship--the _Queen Louise_--would do the
work in half the time which some others occupied.
The Orphan always felt so happy when the last wagon or the last gun of
any particular load had been hoisted out of the lighter. It was so
grand to know that "that little lot" would not fall into the hands of
the Turks. Best of all, it was such fun to be hoodwinking "the old
Turk" all this while.
Generally, from the time a loaded lighter shoved off from No. 4 Pier
until she returned alongside, empty, at least two hours had elapsed, and
as it often took an hour--sometimes a good deal more--to load up again,
each lighter seldom made more than two trips a night.
Practically all this work went on in complete darkness. There was no
moonlight, and the only lights allowed to be shown were small oil-lamps,
one on each pier, and one on the far end of the "Outer Hulk".
Fortunately, what breeze blew during the first nine nights came from the
north-east, and did not interfere with the work; on most of these nights
the air was absolutely still and the sea absolutely calm.
Before leaving off work in the morning, they would see that any guns
remaining on the beach or in the lighters were carefully covered up with
tarpaulins, so that the Turks could not see them from their inquisitive
aeroplanes, which constantly came circling over, trying to find out what
the British really intended to do.
Then, perhaps at half-past seven in the morning, thoroughly worn out,
probably nearly wet through, back they would drag themselves up to the
Mess, find Richards always ready for them with cocoa or coffee, bacon,
sometimes eggs, and have their breakfast. Afterwards they would "turn
in".
"My perishing Orphan!" the Sub would say, as he threw himself on his
bed. "That's not a bad night's work--twelve guns, and any number of
wagons and things. But I'm pretty well fagged out, and you look 'done
to a turn'."
They would sleep till the middle of the day, get up, wash, have lunch,
and probably go to sleep again till four or half-past. Then a good
"high tea" Richards would provide for them; and, after that, all those
who were on night duty--nearly all in fact--gathered in the Mess, smoked
and yarned, and told how things were "going"--how many troops, how many
guns, how many horses and mules, and how much stores had been safely
sent away the night before.
Everyone knew and felt that every man, every gun, horse or mule, every
motor-lorry, every ton of stores and ammunition sent off was so much to
the good; and everyone--especially as the day for the final evacuation
drew nearer--grew anxious lest the Turks should find out what was
happening, and lest the gentle north-east breeze should give place to a
south-westerly wind, which would drive seas against the different
beaches, and delay--perhaps fatally delay--the final embarkation.
There was always the chance of this, and of the two or three thousand
last troops to come marching back from the empty trenches being hotly
pressed by the Turks, and of them and the whole of the beach parties
finding it impossible to get off. To the Orphan, and to many more; it
also seemed so absolutely unbelievable that the Turks could be deceived
again; and they thought that they must really know about what was going
on, and were only waiting until the trenches were so weakly held that
they could make a successful assault, drive all that remained down to
the sea, and capture them.
*CHAPTER XXIV*
*The Evacuation of Cape Helles*
Friday morning, the 7th January, came, and the Turks had given no sign
whatever that they guessed what was going on. Shells burst as usual,
and "Cuthbert", the aeroplane, circled overhead, saw what he could,
dropped a few bombs on the ridge above "W" beach and near the old _River
Clyde_, and went home again before our own pursuing aeroplanes could
catch him.
At two o'clock that afternoon the Turks commenced a fierce bombardment
of the whole front-line trenches. The Asiatic guns tried to enfilade
them, too, and for nearly three hours every gun they possessed blazed
away for all it was worth.
The few guns we had remaining did their utmost to conceal the smallness
of their numbers by the rapidity of their fire, though, naturally,
everyone imagined that the Turks must realize how few they were.
At five o'clock the Turks evidently intended to storm the front which
they had battered so severely, but, except on our extreme left, their
men could not be induced to leave their trenches.
But here some five or six hundred did advance, and, unfortunately for
them, came in full view of a battleship which had but lately come out
from England, fearfully keen to fire her guns, and now happened to be
zigzagging along the coast, attracted by the continual roar of the
Turkish artillery. Eagerly looking for something to fire at, she saw,
all at once, these poor devils of Turks streaming out of their trenches
across open ground, and let go salvo after salvo into the middle of
them. Not two hundred came anywhere near our thinly held trenches; some
twenty reached them, and were promptly bayoneted; perhaps a dozen got
back to their own. After this no further attack was made, and all
firing died down at dusk.
The "last night but one" commenced.
All night long the work went on; more troops (after their nerve-shaking
experience of that afternoon's three hours' bombardment) marched down
with their baggage and their maxims, filed along No. 1 Pier across the
"hulks" into the _Ermine_ and other troop-carriers, and were taken away.
Many of the still remaining guns came back and were sent off from No. 4
Pier; very many horses were embarked from No. 3 Pier; and soldiers, like
ants, streamed backwards and forwards between the beach and those store
depots, bringing down stores and hurrying back for more.
All night long the Orphan listened with tingling ears for the sound of
anything more than the customary sniping and passing bursts of nervous
rifle-firing. But the Turks had had a sufficiently severe handling in
the afternoon; they made no attempt to attack, and the night passed
absolutely quietly, daylight on Saturday morning coming with everything
going on just as usual. The troop-carriers, horse-transports, and store
ships were long since hidden in Kephalo, or below the horizon on their
way to Mudros; and though the aeroplane came over to reconnoitre and be
driven home again, there was nothing unusual for it to report.
Exactly how many troops remained or how many guns, neither Bubbles nor
the Orphan knew; but they did know that the very scantiest number of
troops held the first-line trenches, and that the guns could almost be
counted on fingers and toes. All these troops had to be got off that
night, and almost all the guns.
"Would the weather hold for the last night?" That was what everyone
asked himself. The sun rose behind Achi Baba not quite so clearly as it
had done throughout the past week, but the breeze still blew gently from
the north-east, and hardly a cloud flecked the blue sky.
Captain Macfarlane, tugging at his pointed beard, looked satisfied, and
went up to his "dug-out" for breakfast and to turn in, after his
all-night's work, and sleep for a few hours.
Bubbles, who had spent the night at "V" beach in his picket-boat, pulled
the sleepy Orphan along the path to the Mess. "What d'you think I had
last night? A bath--a hot bath--aboard the _River Clyde_! It was the
last drop of hot water she had aboard her, for a shell came in half an
hour before and cut a steam-pipe or something. Wasn't I lucky?"
They had this their last breakfast in Gallipoli, and then lay down on
their beds and slept.
At midday they were called, turned out--horribly sleepy--and began to
roll up their bedding and pack up the rest of their "gear", ready to be
taken down to the beach. Most of the officers spent the morning doing
the same.
The barometer had now begun to fall--ever so slightly---and some clouds
to gather in the west, low down in the horizon, behind the island of
Tenedos.
Everyone felt a little anxious.
At three o'clock in the afternoon the breeze definitely shifted round to
the south-west--the dangerous quarter--and all knew that if it increased
much it would drive seas right on to the beaches, and add tremendously
to the difficulties of this last night's work.
At five o'clock that afternoon many of the officers gathered in the
Mess, which they were leaving for ever, and drank to the success of the
evacuation. "Kaiser Bill" was taken out of his box, placed on the table,
and drank a little milk out of a saucer for "good luck"; then Bubbles
took him away to his picket-boat to make certain that he would not be
left behind, _whatever happened_; and everybody went down to the beach
and their different jobs, looking doubtfully and anxiously at the sun
setting behind a gloomy bank of clouds, and the little "white horses"
which already ruffled the surface of the sea.
"It will be all right," the Orphan told the Sub confidently as they
walked down to No. 4 Pier. "If "Kaiser Bill" hadn't drunk his milk we
might have been rather miserable."
"You _are_ a silly ass," the Sub laughed.
Night fell. The breeze freshened steadily, and the two lighters
alongside No. 4 Pier already banged up against the stone wall in a very
uncomfortable manner.
Presently some of those remaining guns began rumbling over the ridge to
the beach, and their teams went round to No. 3 Pier, or cantered back
over the ridge, with a jangle of harness and thudding of hoofs, to fetch
more.
When the first lighter had been loaded--with field-guns mostly--her crew
hauled her off by the warps, the south-west breeze blowing freshly in
their faces, and the little waves already splashing against her bows. A
picket-boat took hold of her and handed her over to tug T1, which towed
her away to sea.
The Orphan went with this first load, and found it a very different
matter to-night. Though the breeze had not yet attained any great
strength, a slight, lumpy sea and swell ran, outside, and when he at
last reached the transport's huge side he had much difficulty in
bringing the clumsy, heavily loaded lighter alongside and making her
"fast". As it was, she bumped and rose and fell so much that it took
nearly two hours to hoist out all those guns, and their "crews", laden
with their heavy kits, and most of them sea-sick, could hardly climb the
awkward Jacob's ladders dangling down the ship's dark side.
At last the lighter was cleared, and the tug, lurching out of the
darkness, brought off the Gunner with another heavily laden lighter,
left him alongside, and towed the Orphan back.
It was now nearly eleven o'clock; the breeze had become a strong wind,
and meeting the current flowing out of the Dardanelles, raised an angry,
steep sea. This immensely increased the difficulties of handling the
motor-lighters, steamboats, and small tugs which simply swarmed off "W"
beach and its piers. The clumsy motor-lighters were a danger to
themselves and a terror to others, for they often refused to answer
their helms when they left the lee of the sunken hulks and their bows
first met the seas. It required much skilful seamanship for the
steamboats to get hold of them in the pitchy darkness and turn them in
the right way.
The Orphan found more guns waiting to be taken off, and he was about to
commence to haul them on board his lighter when an order came that they
were to be destroyed where they stood. Some Sappers arrived, and began
fixing gun-cotton charges in them.
"They are the last of the guns to be sent off," said the officer in
charge of them. "It does seem rough luck, doesn't it?"
"What was it like when you left?" asked the Orphan.
"Perfectly quiet; that was an hour ago," he told him.
The Orphan had nothing to do now but wait for further orders.
There was so much wind blowing inshore, towards the trenches, that
though he strained his ears he could not hear the sound of the usual
sniping, rifle-firing--in fact he could hear nothing from the direction
of the trenches. Every now and then a momentary flash showed out behind
the ridge on the Asiatic shore, and one of "Asiatic Annie's" shells came
along; to-night they nearly all burst on the ridge close to Cape Helles
lighthouse, and absolutely harmlessly. Occasionally a big monitor,
half-way across the Straits, fired a 12-inch gun, and then everything
round "W" beach, and the white tents above it, were lighted up
momentarily--like the click of a camera shutter--and the Orphan would
catch a sudden glimpse of motor-lighters and picket-boats, horses and
men, on No. 3 Pier, perhaps long lines of troops coming down the road
from the ridge, or a motor-lorry or motor-ambulance coming down to the
beach. Then the blackness shut down again, except for the tiny flicker
of the oil-lamp tied to a post at one corner of the pier.
The Orphan passed this time of waiting talking to the disappointed
Gunner officer, who told him yarns of yesterday's fierce bombardment,
and said how annoyed they had been when that battleship had wiped out
their beautiful "target" of advancing Turks. "You'll hear, all right, if
the Turks do get into our trenches to-night, after our chaps have left
them," he said. "They are all mined, and most of the communication
trenches too. There will be the most infernal noise."
Then out of the darkness came Captain Macfarlane and the Sub. The
Orphan heard the Captain say: "All right, you can try and take those
guns off. If you can't manage it, blow them up in the lighter."
Then he was sent round to No. 1 Pier to find out why two motor-lighters
could not get off. He scrambled along the beach, past the end of No. 3
Pier, where a large number of gun- and limber-teams were waiting to
embark in lighters--the horses waiting much more patiently and quietly
than "humans" would have done--and then past a regiment which had just
marched in from the trenches, most of the men lying down to relieve the
weight of their heavy packs. The Orphan guessed correctly that most of
these packs had a Turkish shell--or two--in them as "curios".
By the time he reached No. 1 Pier and found Mr. Armstrong, things were
in a bad way. Two crowded motor-lighters lay there, lashed side by
side, bumping uneasily, and the new platform over the pontoon and those
barrels which filled the gap in it was swaying and creaking in a most
unpleasant manner, waves thudding against it every moment.
"Curse--the--lighters--curse--everything!" swore the Lieutenant,
pronouncing each syllable very deliberately, and without the faintest
trace of excitement. "The--whole--show--will--go--in--a--minute--
barrels--pontoon--and--lighters--as--well. One--
of--the--con-founded--lighters--can't--start--her--
engines--and--the--other--one--has--smashed--hers."
"The Captain is sending a tug in to help," the Orphan shouted
loudly--one had to shout because of the creaking and grinding of the
pontoon and barrels, the noise of the wind and waves, and the bumping of
the motor-lighters.
Then a tug did back gingerly in, passed a tow-rope aboard the lighters,
and started to tow them out; but the rope "parted" as it took the
strain, and the two crowded motor-lighters, catching an eddy of the
strong wind and current, began drifting helplessly back again on to the
damaged pier. In another half-minute they would have been hopelessly
crushed against it; but, in the nick of time, the engine of one of them
took it into its head to start, and just managed to move the two of them
sufficiently to give the tug a chance of getting hold of them and towing
them out to sea and safety.
"My--blooming--oath!" said Mr. Armstrong; "that--was--a--near--thing,"
and he sucked hard at his pipe.
A man, coming from the "Inner Hulk" over the straining pontoon, shouted
to him: "A destroyer has just made 'fast' inside the 'Outer Hulk', sir."
"All--right; I'll--send--the--troops--along.
Go--along--and--fetch--'em," he told the Orphan;
"those--blokes--sitting--along--the--thundering--beach.
Tell--'em--to--thundering--well--get--a
--move--on--if--they--don't--want--to--be--left--behind.
Con-found--this--pipe!" As the Orphan darted away he heard the rending
sound of timber cracking and ropes "parting". He found some officers;
they passed the "word" along; gave orders, and No. 1 Company of that
battalion rose to their feet, picked up their rifles, and commenced to
straggle down to the pier. As the Orphan and the first of them reached
it, there came a loud crashing of smashing woodwork, loud shouts of
"She's carried away, sir!" people came running back from where the
pontoon had been; and Mr. Armstrong, walking slowly up to him, said:
"The--thundering--thing's--carried --away--al-to-gether.
It's--the--very--devil. Go--and--tell--the--N.-T.-O.
See--if--you--can--find-- me--a--bit--of--wire--my--pipe's--choked."
Back went the Orphan to No. 4 Pier, but Captain Macfarlane was not
there, nor at No. 3 Pier. Someone took him to the new office "dug-out"
at the top of the beach; and there he found him, sitting at a table with
an oil-lamp hanging above it, smoking a cigarette, tugging at his beard,
and looking quaintly amused at a number of officers who were all asking
him questions at the same time.
The Orphan wriggled his way through them, and burst out with: "The
'barrel pier' has gone, sir--washed away!"
"How very annoying, Mr. Orpen; very annoying indeed!" he said, smiling
grimly. "We shall have to send the soldiers off from No. 3 Pier. Go
down and tell the pier-master to embark them on the two 'stand-by'
motor-lighters, and tell Mr. Armstrong to go down and help him."
The Orphan, noticing that the lamp was hanging by a piece of wire,
thought that there might be some more somewhere about, looked round, and
saw a piece lying under the table--just what Mr. Armstrong would like.
He picked it up, and was just wriggling his way out again when the
Captain wanted to know what he was doing.
"Mr. Armstrong's pipe is choked, sir, and I saw this bit of wire."
"Dear me! dear me!" smiled the Captain. "Misfortunes never come singly;
do they, Mr. Open?"
"No, sir," said the Orphan, not knowing what else to say, and dashed
off; found the Pier-master--another Naval Lieutenant--and gave his
message. Then he went off with his piece of wire to clear Mr.
Armstrong's pipe, and tell him to go down to No. 3 Pier.
"All--right--hold--this--thundering--megaphone--
whilst--I--clean--my--pipe."
At No. 3 Pier these latest arrived troops were already marching down
into the "stand-by" motor-lighters, with a scuffling of tired feet, a
clatter of rifle-butts, and the continual, monotonous, weary sound of
"Form two deep! Form two deep!" as more infantry neared the shore end
of the pier.
They were tired and dirty and trench-stained, and they cursed as they
stumbled against each other in the dark, but they were very cheerful.
As soon as one lighter had taken as many as she could hold, she shoved
off, and grunted and snorted across to the "Outer Hulk".
"Nip over there; jump into that steamboat," the Pier-master called out.
"Find out how many more men that destroyer can take."
The Orphan jumped down into a picket-boat lying alongside, and found
Bubbles there.
As he took him across to the destroyer, the Orphan asked him what he had
been doing all night.
"Generals, and their Staffs," Bubbles shouted happily. "You've no idea
what a lot of trouble I've had with them. Some of them have actually
started giving me orders. I've 'told 'em off' properly. They get quite
tame then. I've taken some off from 'V' beach as well; everything's
going on well down there. This sea running in is pretty beastly, isn't
it?"
The Orphan climbed up the destroyer's side, and found her deck crammed
with soldiers. He pushed his way up to the fore bridge, and heard her
Captain yelling down to the men on the "Outer Hulk": "Get some more
fenders along. Slack off that hawser." He was told that "If you don't
'get out of it' in a 'brace of shakes' you'll get a sea-passage, for
nothing. I'm just going to shove off out of it. I can't take another
soldier, and I'll stove my side in if I stay here much longer."
The Orphan went back to the steamboat, across to the pier, and reported
that the destroyer was just shoving off.
"I can see that for myself," grumbled the Pier-master, as a flash from
the monitor's gun suddenly showed the destroyer backing out.
This same flash also showed a heavily-laden lighter being warped off
from No. 4 Pier, so the Orphan knew that the Sub had managed to start
his journey with those last guns.
Then two teams of horses came jangling down to the pier unexpectedly,
and the irritated Pier-master sent Bubbles to try and find a horse-boat
or lighter alongside the "Inner Hulk". He came back with one; was
nearly run down by another destroyer; got it alongside. Those twelve
horses walked down into it as if they knew all about the business, and
the very last horse to be taken off from "W" beach was towed away into
the darkness.
Captain Macfarlane came down and told them that he had received a
telephone message from Headquarters Office that the trenches had been
finally evacuated, and the covering brigades withdrawn. "Everything IS
absolutely quiet up there," he said.
The Orphan and Bubbles were greatly excited at that news. They tried to
picture these last troops stealthily creeping out of their long line of
trenches--extending from Ghurka Bluff and the Nullah, across the plain
in front of Krithia, along the lower slopes of Achi Baba, and across and
along the ravines past Sedd-el-Bahr--coming down the communication
trenches, treading softly, and not making a sound, expecting all the
time that Turkish patrols would give the alarm, and that the Turks would
only be waiting for that moment to light the plain with star shells and
rush down on them.
"We should hear the mines blow up, anyway," the Orphan said, as both
snotties stood and listened, hearing nothing but the howling of the wind
and the lapping of the waves, and the bumping of the picket-boat against
the pier.
"It must be exciting for them," Bubbles said, bubbling with excitement.
After having secured several empty motor-lighters alongside, in
readiness to embark the last troops, there was nothing to do.
"Have--a--sand-wich?" said Mr. Armstrong, producing a bulky package
which Richards had prepared for him. They ate them sitting on the top
of the picket-boat's cabin, as she bobbed and bumped against the side of
the pier. Mr. Armstrong told them that one of the Generals coming down
was a cousin of his named Bailey, and that if he did come down to this
pier he wasn't to go off without seeing him. General Bailey had a
brother who had been a Sub in charge of a gun-room when Mr. Armstrong
was a midshipman in it. "A--thundering--good--chap," Mr. Armstrong
said. "He--used--to--beat--me--
thundering--hard--have--an-other--sandwich."
Before the sandwiches were finished, the Orphan had to go up to the
Captain's beach office. The Senior Military Landing Officer, rather
upset about something, was talking nervously.
"Oh, Mr. Orpen, there are some men who can't be taken off from Gully
Beach, round by the left flank, on account of the heavy sea," the
Captain said calmly. "They are starting to march this way. Go down and
tell the Pier-master and Mr. Armstrong to collect as many empty
motor-lighters as possible. Come back here when you have given this
message."
When he returned, the Captain gave him a signal to take up to the
temporary "wireless" station, a little way along the top of the cliff.
"You had better hurry," he said, good-humouredly, looking at his watch,
"if you really don't mind, or they'll be packed up before you get
there."
The Orphan dashed off up the main road, and then along the branch path
to where he knew the "wireless" station had been "put up".
"You're just in time," the Naval Lieutenant in charge of it said; "I was
just going to give the order to 'pack up'."
"Here!" he shouted to the operator. "Call up those two destroyers;
they'll be wanted to come alongside the 'Outer Hulk'."
"The N.T.O. says you can pack up when you get those signals through,
sir," the Orphan said.
"All right; those destroyers will have the deuce of a time getting
alongside if the wind goes on increasing as it's been doing for the last
half-hour," the Lieu-tenant said. "What d'they want 'em for? anything
gone wrong?"
The Orphan told him, and as he turned back he ran into some soldiers
carrying heavy square tins.
"What are you doing?" he asked one of them.
"Going off to soak the stores with petrol," he said, and hurried on up
to the Ordnance Depot.
Down the main road were now coming the first of the "covering
parties"--some of the men who had actually stayed in the trenches till
the last moment, many of them limping heavily, most of them talking
cheerily. Some had maxim guns on their shoulders, others carried the
tripod-stands, others maxim belt-boxes.
"Which way for the Margate steamer?" a Cockney voice called out.
"Turn to your right when you get on the beach," the Orphan shouted as he
passed them; and the same voice called back: "Hi, Guv'nor! I've lost me
return ticket. I ain't got no money, and I don't want to be left
behind--I ain't 'ankering after a trip to Constantinople."
The tired men began to laugh.
The midshipman found Captain Macfarlane in his office, and told him that
these men were coming down. He went out and stood at the top of the
beach as they went past, their feet scrunching on the stones and
shuffling through the sand as they marched down to No. 3 Pier, straight
aboard the motor-lighters waiting for them.
A little officer came past, walking with a very tall one.
"Is that General Bailey?" called Captain Macfarlane.
"Hullo, Macfarlane! I knew your voice," he replied, stopping.
"Everything all right?" asked the Captain; and the Orphan remembered
that this was Mr. Armstrong's cousin, and listened eagerly for what the
General, who had just gone through this terribly anxious time, had to
say.
"A pipeful of ship's tobacco, and I should be a happy man," was what he
actually did say.
"I know where I can get some, sir," the Orphan interrupted. "Mr.
Armstrong has plenty down at No. 3 Pier."
"There's a picket-boat waiting for you there, General. Mr. Orpen will
show you the way. Everything all quiet when you left?"
"Everything. The Turks haven't stirred from their trenches; have hardly
fired a shot all night. We've brought everyone back."
The Orphan piloted the General and his Staff Officer through the crowd
of men round No. 3 Pier, and found Mr. Armstrong.
"General Bailey, sir; he wants a pipeful of ship's tobacco," he said,
and left them there; hearing Mr. Armstrong's funny drawl:
"You're--a--sort--of --cousin--of--mine--sir--your--brother--in--the--
Navy--used--to--beat--me--thundering--hard--a--
thundering--good--chap--take--the--whole-- blessed--pouchful."
"Bubbles!" the Orphan called, as he found the picket-boat, "I've brought
you another General."
"Put him down below in the cabin with 'Kaiser Bill'," Bubbles sang out
laughingly. "What 'Kaiser Bill' doesn't know about looking after
Generals isn't worth knowing."
The wind by now had increased to almost the force of a gale, and a most
unpleasant sea was swirling in through the gap in No. 1 Pier--where the
pontoon had been--and round and between the ends of the sunken "hulks".
In spite of this, those "covering parties" were safely taken off; the
clumsy motor-lighters pushed and shoved out past the "Outer Hulk" by
tugs and picket-boats, and then there was nothing much to do until those
men marching back from the left flank and Gully Beach arrived. The
Orphan was sent with some of the beach party to bring down the "gear"
from the "wireless" station, and when he came back he found a
white-painted hospital motor-lighter alongside No. 3 Pier. The Army
doctor in charge had asked to be given an opportunity of trying to save
the most valuable of the surgical stores still left in the Casualty
Clearing-stations, and now was up there with nearly a hundred R.A.M.C.
orderlies, bringing down cases of surgical instruments and expensive
apparatus as fast as they could. They had already filled two big
ambulance wagons, and man-handled them down on to the beach, and
everyone was helping to unload them.
As a matter of fact, the last night of the evacuation had gone off so
smoothly, in spite of the unfortunate change of weather, that people
hardly realized that the original scheme had been drafted under the
impression that the "covering parties" would probably have to fight
their way back. The maxims in the picket-boats had been placed in them
so that the picket-boats should try and cover the embarkation of those
last few people who would rush down to the beach; the white-painted
hospital lighter was there to, if possible, take off any wounded who
could crawl or hobble to it.
In the complete absence of any interference by the Turks this fact had
been almost forgotten.
The Sapper working-parties, who had been sprinkling petrol over the
Ordnance and Commissariat stores, now began to return, and set to work
with pick-axes to smash the engines of some motor-lorries which had to
be left behind, and rip their tyres to shreds.
The Orphan having nothing whatever to do, and feeling very tired,
wandered down to No. 3 Pier and found Bubbles and his picket-boat.
"I say, Bubbles, got anything to eat?"
Bubbles had. He produced a packet of sandwiches out of a haversack, and
the crew brought the two of them a bowl of hot cocoa. They sat on the
top of the picket-boat's cabin, and whilst they were munching away
happily, they heard someone singing out: "'Ave you seen Mr. Orpen
about?"
It was Plunky Bill's voice.
"Hello! What d'you want?" the Orphan called; "I'm here."
Plunky Bill came aboard. "Beg pardon, sir; I thought as 'ow you and
t'other young gen'l'man could do with a couple of army macintoshes.
I've just 'appened to come across two;" and he added confidentially: "If
you'd like any more, I knows where I might be able to lay me 'ands on
'em."
"Where did you get them?" they asked; but Plunky Bill only told them
that "he'd been looking round a bit". "I'll just stick 'em alongside
'Kaiser Bill', and then they'll be safe. You'll find a couple of them
there 'lectric torches in the pockets."
"Whatever else have you got?" Bubbles laughed, seeing that he was bulged
out with things.
"Nothin' much, sir; nothin' but a few pairs of them injy-rubber trench
boots, sir. It do seem such a shame to leave 'em for the Turks, and
they'll come in 'andy on board."
He put these boots down below under the forepeak, and went away again,
towards the beach.
"That makes up for the macintosh spoilt by that shell the other day,"
Bubbles said. "They're jolly good things; you can wear them in plain
clothes."
They did think of calling him back and asking, him to bring down some
more for the rest of the gun-room, but a picket-boat came lurching
alongside with the Sub in it, and in their eagerness to know whether he
had managed to get off the last of those guns they forgot about
macintoshes.
"They're half-way to Mudros by this time," the Sub shouted happily.
"I'm off to tell the Skipper. What's the delay? What are we waiting
for?"
They told him of the men from the left flank, and away he went.
At about three o'clock the first destroyer came alongside the "Outer
Hulk" and made fast. This would have been a difficult job in daylight,
on account of the heavy sea which was running, the strong wind, a very
strong current swirling down from the Dardanelles, the very limited
space for manoeuvring, and the dangerous proximity of the lee shore. In
the pitchy darkness of the night it was ten times as difficult.
Thank goodness, just about this time, the first of those men began to
tramp down the road from the ridge, footsore and weary after their long
and anxious march--long march, that is, for men who had spent so many
weeks continually in trenches. The Orphan helped to guide them down to
No. 3 Pier, and they limped into the waiting motor-lighters, and were
taken across to the destroyer.
By a quarter to four, not a single soldier remained on the Gallipoli
Peninsula except a Sapper "demolition" party busy setting fire to the
petrol-soaked stores, and waiting to ignite the fuses which should blow
up the magazines containing all the ammunition and explosives which had
to be abandoned.
By four o'clock these Sappers had come back to the beach and embarked
aboard a motor-lighter. The whole circle of the ridge above "W" beach
and the slopes of the gully now began to flicker with little flames, and
in an incredibly short time the strong wind fanned them until the whole
place was a mass of roaring, crackling fire.
Captain Macfarlane, the few of his officers who had not yet gone off,
and a few of his men, now collected at the end of No. 3 Pier, alongside
which lay two steamboats and that white-painted motor-lighter laden with
medical and surgical stores, a few injured men (including two soldiers
with sprained ankles--actually the two last men to come down to "W"
beach), and some R.A.M.C. orderlies. Bubbles, with his last load of
military officers, with "Kaiser Bill" and the two macintoshes, had
already gone out to sea, and was steaming across to Kephalo.
Those flames lighted up the whole of "W" beach in the most extraordinary
manner, and everything all round was visible--the little group on the
pier, the stones on the beach, a white-tilted ambulance wagon with its
Red Cross, half-way down the beach, the broad road running up between
the huge masses of flame, the white hospital tents, an abandoned
motor-lorry with its engines destroyed and its tyres hacked to pieces,
the white stones which marked the boundary of the Naval Camp, and even
the two "cuttings" which led to the Naval Mess "dug-out". Out by the
"hulks" some of those last soldiers could be seen still scrambling
aboard the destroyer.
Captain Macfarlane gave the order for the hospital-lighter to shove off,
and for everyone to embark, so the Sub, the Orphan, Mr. Armstrong, and
many more crowded into one of those steamboats and started away. The
time was now about ten minutes past four, and before they had gone a
hundred yards the magazine on shore blew up. It contained all the
explosives which it had not been possible to take off, and made the most
earth-rending, stupendous noise, sending up a huge mass of flame like a
volcano, and flaming masses flew gyrating and twisting like huge
gigantic Chinese crackers high up into the sky and spreading far and
wide in every direction.
"My--blooming--oath--what--price--that--for--fireworks!" drawled Mr.
Armstrong.
"Keep down! Keep down!" people shouted, as masses of rock came
splashing into the water all round the steamboat, but none hit her; and
as she turned round the end of the "Outer Hulk", on the inner side of
which the destroyer and several motor-lighters still lay, crowded with
troops, and faced the sea, the Orphan saw the other steamboat following,
with Captain Macfarlane and the rest of his officers and men, and the
white hospital lighter struggling out, with the water splashing up all
round her, just as though she were under a heavy fire. A tremendous
crackle of musketry broke out from the beach, and for a moment the
Orphan thought that the Turks had come down to the ridge at last; but a
Sapper officer in the boat told him that this was only the abandoned
small-arm ammunition exploding.
Captain Macfarlane, passing them in his steamboat, sent them back to
assist the hospital lighter if necessary; but she managed to make her
way out safely, so in a few minutes they followed him.
Another destroyer waited for them outside; they saw her, steamed
alongside, and climbed aboard with some difficulty owing to the heavy
sea. The huge blaze on shore lighted up every face, and the first
person the Orphan recognized was Dr. Gordon, the Volunteer Surgeon of
the _Achates_.
"We've just had some pieces of rock fall on board," he said, "but no one
is hurt. How about you? They were falling all round your boat."
"What are you doing here, sir?" the Orphan asked.
"They've sent a doctor to every destroyer to-night. Thank God, everyone
has got off safely! You go and lie down; you look absolutely 'played
out'."
"We got off all the men and the last guns--the very last they intended
to take off," the Orphan said. "Isn't that grand?" But he would not go
and lie down. He stood watching the flames and the destroyer silhouetted
against them, as she backed out to let another take her place and empty
the remaining motor-lighters. The motor-lighters came out and headed
into the heavy sea; the destroyer backed out and went ahead into safety,
and the last that the Orphan saw was a solitary little picket-boat
pushing her way in towards No. 3 Pier and the flames, to make a final
search for anyone left there, and then coming out again.
It was now about a quarter to five in the morning, and the marvellous
evacuation had been successfully completed.
Then the Orphan staggered aft, crawled below, almost fell on to one of
the leather cushions down in the ward-room, and went fast asleep.
Dr. Gordon, coming down a few minutes later, found him there, and felt
his clothes. They were wet through, so he pulled a couple of blankets
off a bunk and covered him up.
By this time there were very few of the beach party or its officers who
had not found somewhere to stretch themselves and go to sleep. The
strain of those last ten days and nights had been very great--fourteen
hours of hard work day and night for most of them; for some a great deal
more--and even the Sub, strong as he was, could not have "stood" many
more such days and nights without a rest.
But the destroyer they were aboard had not finished her job. She and a
cruiser now had to shepherd every tug, motor-lighter, trawler, and
steamboat safely on its way across to Kephalo--especially those
troublesome motor-lighters, which behaved so badly in a heavy sea. She
went up the Straits, past "V" beach, where the fires blazing there
showed up the castle walls of Sedd-el-Bahr and the poor old _River
Clyde_; steamed up as far as Morto Bay to see that no craft of any kind
had been left behind; and it was not until nearly seven o'clock, and
after the Turks had been shelling the beaches for nearly two hours, both
from Achi Baba and the Asiatic shore, that she started away for Kephalo.
By eight o'clock she ran into that crowded harbour.
The _Achates_ had left for Mudros several days previously, and thither
Dr. Gordon, the Sub, Bubbles, the Orphan, and "Kaiser Bill" followed her
late that afternoon in the troop-carrier _Ermine_. As this plucky
little steamer passed Cape Tekke and Cape Helles the fires still raged,
and a cruiser, a monitor, and two destroyers were bombarding the shore.
When the Orphan looked his last at Gallipoli Peninsula, as the _Ermine_
steamed away to the west, the cliffs of Cape Tekke glowed in the rays of
the setting sun, with a great pall of black smoke above them, the masts
of the sunken hulks at their feet, our own shells were bursting on the
beaches, and a huge splash leapt up under the stern of the cruiser as a
shell from "Asiatic Annie" fell into the sea close to her.
By nine o'clock, after a wet and "bumpy" passage through the head sea
left by last night's gale, the Sub, Bubbles, and the Orphan found
themselves once more in the Honourable Mess, where everybody asked
hundreds of questions at the same time, and where Barnes soon had a
glorious "feed" waiting for them. Fletcher, the stoker, had come aft
directly they reached the ship, to find out whether they had brought the
tortoise back safely.
"It was all due to him," the Orphan told Fletcher joyfully. "You said
he would bring good luck, and he has."
"Kaiser Bill", however, did not show the slightest interest in getting
back to the ship or his owner, and refused even to put out his head.
"His nerves are a bit out of order, I expect," Uncle Podger suggested.
"You should have seen him 'duck' when he heard the shells burst!" the
Orphan laughed. "You're a bigger funk than I am; aren't you, old
'Kaiser Bill'?"
*CHAPTER XXV*
*The "Achates" Returns to Malta*
At nine o'clock on Sunday morning, the 9th January, a general "wireless"
signal was made by the Naval Commander-in-Chief--"Helles evacuated
successfully"; and every battleship, scout, sloop, and destroyer
scattered widely over the Eastern Mediterranean received the welcome
news at the same moment.
The greatest enthusiasm prevailed among the whole fleet, for everyone
realized that though the evacuation was actually a retreat, yet it had
been a wonderful achievement in the face of difficulties which had at
one time seemed insuperable; moreover, it set free a large and seasoned
army for employment elsewhere.
When, later on in the day, the officers and men who had taken part in
the evacuation returned to their own ships at Mudros with yarns of last
night's adventures, everyone marvelled how it had been possible to
hoodwink the wily Turk a second time so completely, and to do so in the
teeth of that south-west gale.
In the gun-room of the _Achates_ that night, the Sub, Bubbles, and the
Orphan tried to answer questions and eat at the same time.
"It was that south-west wind that sprang up," the Lamp-post said.
"Directly it started blowing, the Turks thought to themselves, 'Well,
they won't try to slip away to-night, at any rate', got out their
hubble-bubble pipes, and began playing 'patience'."
"You must have been there, old Lampy," Uncle Podger laughed. "Was it
pretty to watch? What kind of patience did they play?"
"You know what I mean," the Lamp-post said. "Don't try to be funny."
"I believe he's right," the Sub said, with his mouth full. "My jumping
Jimmies, didn't we have luck?"
The China Doll sat listening, with his eyes opening and shutting, and
his mouth wide open, fearfully excited, especially when the Orphan, in
the interval of "Another helping, please, Barnes!" told them all about
the shells coming into the "dug-outs", and the third one which just
missed Bubbles outside the kitchen door.
In the middle of all this, the Pimple rushed in, shouting: "We're off to
Malta! Off to Malta to refit! The signal has just come through! As
soon as ever we get back all our men, off we go! You can't say I don't
bring you news, can you?"
In a moment the evacuation, and the bursting shells, and all the
thrilling adventures--even the two macintoshes and electric torches
looted by Plunky Bill--had been entirely forgotten. They all yelled
with joy, and wondered how long the _Achates_ would remain at Malta,
where she would go afterwards, and what ships would be there for them to
challenge at cricket or hockey.
"You'll have to give me that dinner there, Rawlins, old chap," grinned
the Lamp-post, referring to the "race" in their "water-beetles".
"Ra-ther!" said Rawlins. "We'll have a regular slap-up
'eat-till-you-burst' show at the Club, won't we?"
Dr. Gordon put his head into the gun-room to see whether Bubbles and the
Orphan had finished "feeding" and were ready to come for'ard to the
sick-bay and have their slight wounds properly dressed. But no one
could worry about little things like that--now.
"Come in, sir! Come in!" they shouted. "Isn't it grand about Malta?
Where do you think we'll go afterwards?"
"I don't know; I haven't the faintest idea," Dr. Gordon answered in his
nervous way.
"Hadn't we better have a bath first, sir?" the two wounded warriors
asked him. "We want one frightfully badly."
"All right," Dr. Gordon smiled. "I'll get the bandages and things into
my cabin. Come along there, afterwards."
They had their baths, they had their scratches dressed; and then it was
simply no use to try--they could not keep awake any longer, and they
turned into their hammocks--on the half-deck--and slept like logs;
though not before the Pimple, shaking Bubbles, told him that he must
keep the forenoon watch next day. "I've been keeping double watches
ever since you went skylarking over at Helles," he complained.
"Oh, bother you!" Bubbles groaned, and went to sleep.
Next morning, as Bubbles kept his "forenoon", the Orphan came to talk to
him. He had a great idea of doing something for "Kaiser Bill", "so that
he should always remember how he'd brought luck wherever he went, and
all the righting and things he'd been through". They had a very long
and secret conversation, and then the Orphan, saying: "I'm certain I can
get it made on board--there's a stoker petty officer who says he can do
it--I'll go and see him now," went away again.
Three days later, just before sunset, the _Achates_ steamed out through
the "gate" in the double row of submarine nets, left Mudros for the last
time, and commenced to zigzag her way to Malta.
In the ward-room that night the Sub dined with Mr. Meredith, and the
Orphan dined with the War Baby, sitting next to Dr. O'Neill, the
Fleet-Surgeon, who was so delighted at getting away from the Dardanelles
that he actually made himself quite agreeable.
"Not so much of the 'rats-in-a-trap' now, Doc," the cheery
Fleet-Paymaster called across the table. "More of the
'bird-in-a-gilded-cage', eh? Don't cheer up too soon; we shall be right
in the thick of the submarines to-night and to-morrow. You'd better
blow up your safety waistcoat."
"That's all right, Pay. It's hanging up in my cabin, blown up tight."
"Good! I'll know where to steal it," grinned the Fleet-Paymaster.
After dinner the other gun-room officers were invited to come along and
start a "sing-song". They came in, and the Lamp-post, itching to get at
the piano, was stuck down in front of it and told to play.
As his fingers drew music from the battered, uncared-for old instrument,
he lost himself in another world altogether. He didn't hear the
Navigator asking why the China Doll had not come; or the Pimple and
Rawlins say: "Oh, we forgot him; we left him in the gun-room"; nor
notice them rush away with the Orphan, Bubbles, and the War Baby, and
bring back the Assistant Clerk lashed in a bamboo stretcher, with a big
cardboard label--pointing the wrong way--"This side up. Fragile--with
care."
They rushed him through the ward-room door, his squeals drowned by their
shouts and the Lamp-posts music, and stood him upside down on his head,
against the table.
"He's frightfully fragile! Listen how he cracks if you touch him!" And
the Pimple nipped his ankle, the poor China Doll giving a squeak of
pain.
"That's hardly comfortable, is it?" Dr. Gordon suggested.
"Well, look at the label, sir. 'This side up', so it must be right,"
they laughed. But Dr. Gordon made them unbuckle the stretcher and take
it away, whilst the China Doll was "stood up" the right way, blinking
his eyes, and opening and shutting his mouth. "Look at his lovely pink
socks!" they cried, pulling up his trouser legs. "Aren't they pretty?"
But the Assistant Clerk, with a frightened look at the Sub, who had
forbidden him to wear them in uniform, tried to hide them.
The Lamp-post stopped playing and "came to earth" again.
"It's simply marvellous how you do it, old Lampy," said Uncle Podger,
who had listened to every note. "That right hand of yours gave those
black notes the time of their life; your left hand simply wasn't in
it--never had a look in. You ought to give it a good start next time."
"Don't be an ass!" the Lamp-post smiled.
Then Mr. Meredith had to sing, and everyone joined in the chorus. After
that the China Doll, pretending to be very shy, was pulled forward, and
bleated some song like "Put me among the Girls", and received such an
ovation for his silly performance, and became so highly delighted with
himself and his popularity, that he thought he'd brave the Sub's
displeasure, and not creep away and change those pink socks as he had
intended to do.
The Commander went off to bed very soon; but just as the last chorus of
"The Midshipmite" came to a tremendous end, the door opened, and in came
Captain Macfarlane, smoking a cigar.
Everyone stood up.
"Have a whisky and soda, sir?" the Fleet-Paymaster and Navigator asked
him. "We're having a sing-song."
"I thought I heard a slight noise," smiled the Captain tugging at his
pointed, yellow beard. "May I ask what _you_ are doing, Mr. Chaplain?"
The little Padre happened to be taking lessons from the Sub as to how
best to crawl through the back of one of the ward-room chairs, and had
just got himself firmly wedged in, unable to move the chair up or down.
"I can _nearly_ do it, sir," he said, standing up with the back of the
chair round his chest, and his usually pale face almost purple.
"Nearly do it, Mr. Chaplain! nearly do it! How long have you been in
the Service? I'll show you how to do it properly;" and throwing off his
mess-jacket, and placing his cigar in safety, Captain Macfarlane
wriggled his head and shoulders through the back of another chair, and
slipped it down to his feet in half a minute.
"It's very easily done, Mr. Chaplain," he said, just a little out of
breath, as he resumed his cigar.
"It's all very well for you, sir. You are thin all the way down--the
Padre's only thin 'up topsides'." the Navigator laughed.
The Captain sang a song, and joined in the choruses of others till the
time came for his usual visit to the bridge. Then he put on his
mess-jacket and wished them all "good night".
"Good night, sir!" everyone said, standing up as he went away.
After this the sing-song became a little more boisterous, until finally
the climax came when the Fleet-Paymaster, bursting in with a cushion he
had borrowed from the Padre's cabin, endeavoured to score a "try"
between the legs of the piano. He was forced into touch, banged against
the ship's side, the cushion seized, and a most delightful game of Rugby
football followed.
Dr. Gordon had a little work to do--mending people--afterwards, whilst
the sing-song gradually broke up, the clamour subsided, and one after
the other all went away to turn in, and peace and quietness reigned once
more.
On the way back to the gun-room the Sub asked Uncle Podger to come into
his cabin.
"Look here, Uncle, that youngster of yours took advantage of my dining
in the ward-room to-night to wear those pink socks. I don't care a
tinker's curse if he wears all the colours of the rainbow _out_ of
uniform, but I had told him not to do so _in_ uniform. It's just this:
the snotties--all of us--are spoiling him, treating him like a plaything
or a little girl. He can't even talk sensibly now, or make an ordinary
remark without saying something silly to try and make us laugh at him.
He wore those socks to-night to make the snotties laugh at him and "rag"
him; and that silly song he sang, and that silly blinking of his eyes
when the ward-room officers clapped him--well, it's got to be stopped.
What a horrible time he will have, when he goes to another ship and
tries his baby tricks there! and what will he be like when he grows up?
He's a good little chap, really, and as plucky as paint at sports. We
_must_ do something."
"I don't know," Uncle Podger reflected. "I feel just as you do. He's
being absolutely spoiled. He's absolutely useless in the office; I do
believe he spends his time thinking of what he can do next to make them
laugh at him. They were talking at dinner to-night of getting up a
gun-room court martial and trying him one night before we get to Malta.
The snotties knew you had ordered him not to wear those socks, and
thought of trying him for that. The China Doll thinks he's going to
have the time of his life."
"Right," said the Sub, "and I'll take 'President'; he _shall_ have the
time of his life."
"You won't be too hard on him?" Uncle Podger asked, a little anxiously.
"Right-o, old chap! Good night! I won't break him."
By the next morning the _Achates_ had passed through the narrow Doro
channel, where so many ships had been attacked by submarines, and
zigzagged her way along the coast of Greece. In the gun-room, great
preparations were made for the China Doll's court martial, which would
be really done "top-hole" fashion now that the Sub had offered to be
"President". All details were settled that afternoon. The Orphan must
be "Prisoner's Friend", and Uncle Podger "Judge-Advocate". The War Baby
had been asked to dine as the guest of the Honourable Mess, and
afterwards to act as "Provost-Marshal", "Master-at-Arms", "Second
Executioner", and "Prisoner's Escort". The Pimple appointed himself
"First Executioner", and Rawlins and the Hun appointed themselves "Comic
Jailers". But the Hun, who had not been well for some days, had again
to be put on the sick-list and be slung in a cot on the half-deck, so
that Bubbles took his place as "Second Jailer". The Lamp-post, of
course, would be the "Prosecutor", and make up a really funny speech.
Before dinner they shifted the Hun in his cot, and slung him just
outside the gun-room door so that he could look in and see the fun.
"You'll have to be the 'crowd'," they told him, "and groan and hoot when
the 'Prisoner' is dragged in or out--that is, if you feel well enough,
old Hun."
They had a grand, cheery dinner, the most cheery and noisy since the
ship had left Ieros; they entirely forgot Cape Helles or Suvla, the
shells or the submarines. The China Doll simply giggled with excitement
all the time. He longed for the trial to begin, and for himself to be
the central figure and be able to "answer back" so cheekily.
When the meal was at last finished and everything cleared away, he
helped to carry in the Master-at-Arms' table, and stood it across the
top of the Mess, in front of the sideboard, for the Sub to sit behind as
"Judge" and "President"; he helped bring in the Padre's reading-desk to
make the witness-box, and he cleared all the litter of coats and boots
from the brass "beading", or fender, which surrounded the place where
the stove had stood in the old days. This was to be the Bar, and he
would have to stand in the middle of it, facing the witness-box, with a
"Jailer" on each side of him, and the War Baby, with his very long
sword, behind him.
He himself had no sword, and would not be entitled to one until he
reached the exalted rank of Clerk, so he was ordered to provide himself
with a pen from the ship's office to take its place.
Directly after "Commander's rounds" at nine o'clock, the "Court" was
"cleared", and the China Doll, trembling with excitement, was sent to
stand by his sea-chest until the "Jailers" and the "Master-at-Arms" came
for him.
Punctually at ten past nine the War Baby, in helmet, tunic, and those
beautiful scarlet-striped trousers of his, his long sword at the
"carry", did the "goose step" solemnly along the half-deck, followed by
Bubbles and Rawlins, their helmets on, the wrong way round, their
monkey-jackets stuffed out with swimming-belts to make them look more
"funny", and their drawn dirks in their hands. They dragged behind them
the chain from one of the hatchway ladders, and having snapped a pair of
handcuffs round the China Doll's wrists, lashed his arms to his side
with the chain.
Then they escorted him solemnly back to the gun-room, amidst derisive
shouts of "Go it, pickpocket! Wearer of Pink Socks! Booh! Pooh!
Booh!" from the "crowd"--the Hun in his cot outside the gun-room door.
Behind the little table sat the Sub, smoking his pipe--that office pen,
which represented the "Prisoner's" sword, and the gun-room cane in front
of him. On his left, at the end of the little table, sat Uncle Podger
with his "cocked" hat on, his sword between his knees, and a roll of
papers in his hands. In front and on the right of the "Judge" was the
stove fender for the "Prisoner at the Bar", and in front and on the
left, the Padre's reading-desk, laden with a pile of volumes of
Chambers's _Encyclopaedia_, borrowed from the ward-room. The Lamp-post,
as "Prosecutor", leant "gracefully" against it.
Behind the "Judge" stood the Pimple--a black mask hiding most of his
face--brandishing a huge meat-chopper, kindly lent by the marine
butcher.
The Orphan had vanished.
The China Doll was now marched to the Bar.
"Attention! Silence in Court!" shouted the War Baby in a shrill
falsetto; and the two "Jailers", standing on each side of the China
Doll, repeated it after him, trying to make funny faces, and jerking the
ends of the chain coiled round the "Prisoner's" chest, whilst that
luckless youth opened and shut his eyes, and kept saying: "Shut up!
you're hurting!"
Silence, or comparative silence, having been obtained, Uncle Podger
gravely read, from a long roll of paper, the horrible charge: "Whereas,
Mr. Charles Stokes, commonly known as the China Doll, did, after being
duly warned and cautioned not to wear pink socks"--(loud "booing" from
the "crowd", and a request from the "crowd" for his cot to be shifted a
little farther for'ard, so that he could see better).
After this interruption, and the Court had settled down again, the
"Judge-Advocate" resumed: "pink socks, not in accordance with the
Uniform Regulations of His Majesty's Navy, and also infringing the
customs of the Honourable Mess, and being distasteful to the Honourable
Members thereof, and did indulge this noxious habit on sundry and divers
occasions, to wit, notably at dinner on the thirteenth day of the first
month of the year nineteen hundred and sixteen; therefore, the aforesaid
Mr. Charles Stokes be now brought before a Court Martial, duly
assembled, and his crime diligently, and with all due formality,
examined into, and death or other such punishment as be deemed
necessary, awarded."
"Prisoner at the Bar," the "Judge-Advocate" began sternly--("Tremble,
China Doll," Rawlins implored in a whisper. "Shake the chain and the
handcuffs.")--"having heard the grave charge, do you plead guilty or not
guilty?"
"Guilty, my Lord," squeaked the "Prisoner", knowing that this was just
what no one would want him to say.
"The 'Prisoner at the Bar' pleads 'Not guilty'--not guilty, my Lord!'"
shrieked the "Provost-Marshal", "Master-at-Arms", "Second Executioner",
and "Prisoner's Escort", all rolled in one, waving his long sword; the
two comic "Jailers" joined in to drown the "Prisoner's" voice.
There was now heard, from the deck outside, shouts of "Justice!
Justice!" and a rather mild "booing" from the "crowd"; in rushed the
Orphan and struck an attitude. "Am I too late to save my young friend's
life?" he cried tragically, holding one hand against the front of his
monkey-jacket, beneath which something bulged out. "The prisoner pleads
'Not guilty, my Lord!' and I am here to prove his innocence. Fleeing
from the Dardanelles, flying from the post of danger, I--I--I---- Oh,
hang it all; I can't remember any more!"
So down the Orphan sat, amidst groans from the "Jailers", the "First and
Second Executioners", and the "crowd" outside.
"The 'Prisoner at the Bar' having pleaded 'Not guilty, my Lord!'"
continued the "Judge-Advocate", "I will now request my honourable
friend, 'Mr. Prosecutor', to proceed."
So the Lamp-post, having cleared his throat several times, and fixed the
"Prisoner" with an "eagle glance", before which the China Doll's knees
shook in the most realistic manner, proceeded: "My Lord, in my
researches among my legal books" (here he rested his hand on the
Encyclopaedia) "I find but little mention of socks, and none of pink
socks, which is sufficient proof that the crime, of which the 'Prisoner
at the Bar' is charged, is one of a unique and most dangerous character.
But" (and he banged the reading-desk) "in the article on 'Dyes' I find
this: 'Pink dye is produced from coal-tar'"--(great sensation in Court;
Bubbles pretended to faint against the bulkhead; the Pimple waved the
meat-chopper so close to the "Judge's" head that he was told to put it
down in the corner; and there was prolonged hissing from the "crowd").
Then the "Prosecutor", lightly touching on coal-tar soap, tarred
roads--their advantage to motors and disadvantage to the fish in the
streams which ran alongside them, briefly mentioned the good old custom
of "tar and feathering", which he trusted the Court would inflict on the
wretched "Prisoner at the Bar". "These," he said, suddenly holding aloft
the two incriminating socks, "are the abominated vestments or
'what-nots' owned and worn by that trembling, terrified tadpole, that
cringing criminal in the dock. I will now, my Lord, proceed to call my
witnesses."
"You're doing it spiffingly!" whispered Rawlins to the China Doll. "If
you could only wink up a tear, and shake the chains a bit more!"
One by one, Uncle Podger, the "Jailers", and Barnes (in his
shirt-sleeves) were called to the reading-desk, sworn on the office copy
of the King's Regulations and Admiralty Instructions, and each
identified those socks as having been worn by the "Prisoner" on the
occasion in question. The War Baby further gave evidence that he had
found them that night concealed in the "Prisoner's" chest.
The Orphan, with some hazy idea of judicial procedure, tried
unsuccessfully to obtain a hearing. At last he was heard to say: "That
the 'Prisoner at the Bar' denied ever having seen them before; that
having been brought up from the tenderest age on 'Pink Pills for Pale
Piccaninnies', he so abominated that colour that he invariably fainted
on seeing it". Here, with his free hand (for the other hand still
clasped the bulge beneath his monkey-jacket), he seized the pink socks
from the "Prosecutor" and held them in front of the "Prisoner's" face.
[Illustration: THE GUN-ROOM COURT MARTIAL ON THE CHINA DOLL.]
The China Doll promptly fell back into the arms of the "Jailers" and
"Provost-Marshal".
"See, my Lord!" and the Orphan pointed triumphantly (as Rawlins
whispered, "Keep on fainting--I'll tell you when to stop"); "can the
Court require further proof of his innocence?"
("Yes! Yes! Booh! Booh! Yah!" from the "crowd" and the Pimple.)
"Then I will produce the real criminal, the owner of those hateful
socks;" and putting his hand inside his monkey-jacket, the Orphan drew
out "Kaiser Bill", with his head out and legs dangling from his shell.
"There he is! Come to save the innocent life of that young officer--at
the risk of his own shell!" (Tremendous sensation in Court; the
"Jailers" flung their arms round each other and wept loudly--even the
"Judge" smiled as he refilled his pipe.)
"I will now confront him with those socks, and the Court will see him
recognize them," went on the Orphan, and dangled a sock in front of
"Kaiser Bill". Unfortunately, just at that moment the Pimple dropped the
meat-chopper, and "Kaiser Bill", thinking, probably, that "Asiatic
Annie" was getting busy again, promptly "ducked" inside his shell, and
nothing would induce him to come out again.
The Lamp-post banged the reading-desk. "My Lord, you have seen for
yourself that the Witness for the Defence refuses to perjure himself:
the case is clear; I submit that the charge is proved."
In the general clamour and booing which followed, the China Doll
endeavoured to make himself heard; but every time he opened his mouth,
Rawlins or Bubbles slapped a wet sponge (thoughtfully provided by the
Pimple) over his mouth, and the War Baby sawed gently at his neck with
his sword.
Amid the general uproar, the Orphan was understood to be pleading for
the clemency of the Court. "The 'Prisoner at the Bar'," he was heard to
say, "resolved, at a tender age, to devote his life to his King and
Country, and, leaving several disconsolate, doting wives and children to
mourn his loss, had come to sea to make toast for the Honourable Mess."
"But he doesn't make it now; he never did! He always ate it himself!"
yelled the "Jailers", the "First Executioner", and the "crowd".
"I look to the justice of the Court to acquit the miserable little
worm--I mean, this gallant and impetuous officer--of the foul charge
which--which--which---- Oh, hang it all! I've forgotten what comes
next," the Orphan said, and, amidst "loud and prolonged cheering" from
the Hun in his cot outside, sat down on the gun-room table with "Kaiser
Bill" on his knees.
The Sub banged the table. "Has the 'Prisoner at the Bar' anything to
say in his defence?"
The China Doll, thinking that at last the time had come for him to make
the funny remarks he expected everyone to laugh at, began, in his most
squeaky voice, his eyes opening and shutting: "My Lord, old Lampy
is----"
"The Prosecutor! the Prosecutor!" they all shouted, whilst the "Jailers"
clapped the sponge over his mouth.
"Is an ass!" shrieked the China Doll, struggling free.
"Muzzle the 'Prisoner'! Shove the sponge in his mouth! Cut his head
off!" shouted the "Jailers", the "Provost-Marshal", the "First
Executioner", and the "crowd".
The Sub banged the table for silence, and roared: "'Provost-Marshal',
remove the 'Prisoner', and send back the 'Jailers'!" Whereupon the
China Doll was lifted up, kicking and squeaking, and taken out into the
half-deck, the War Baby keeping guard whilst the two "Comic Jailers"
came back.
"Now look here," began the Sub, "we've had too much of this fooling of
the Assistant Clerk. He's not a bad little chap, and we're simply
spoiling him. He thinks of nothing but how he can make us laugh at him.
When he goes to another ship he'll have a rotten time, and grow up to be
a 'rotter'. He wore those pink socks after I had told him not to do so,
and to make you laugh at him all the more. Now all this 'rot' has to
stop--from this very moment. He is not to be called China Doll any
longer--the name will stick to him, and sooner or later spoil him.
Stokes is his name, and Stokes--and nothing else--nothing else, do you
understand?--you will call him in future. You can 'scrap' with him as
much as you like, but you are to talk sensibly to him--and you are never
again to call him China Doll. Go and fetch the 'Prisoner'."
The snotties never expected any ending like this, and, rather
bewildered, brought back the excited Mr. Stokes.
"Take off those handcuffs and foolhardy chains," the Sub called out,
"and bring Mr. Stokes over here."
The Assistant Clerk stood opposite the Sub, wondering why the others
didn't giggle at the abject look of silly fright he tried to show.
"Stand up when I speak to you!" growled the Sub, and the Assistant Clerk
straightened himself and looked frightened--naturally; he didn't know
what was the matter.
"I have taken 'President of the Court' to-night, Mr. Stokes," the Sub
began sternly, "and let you have your fun out of it, but I am going to
say a few things to you which you are to remember. If you intend to
become a credit to yourself and the Navy you must learn to obey
orders--that is the first thing. Then you must learn to be manly, which
you are not trying to do here. If you hadn't been just a silly, little
puppy I should have beaten you; but from now on, you are to be called by
your proper name--Stokes--and by nothing else--and--and--dash it
all--come with me to my cabin and talk it over."
Ten minutes later they both came back, the Assistant Clerk looking as if
he had shed tears.
The Sub put his hand on his shoulder. "Have a drink, Stokes?" and Mr.
Stokes looking up, with a suspicion of a tremble on his lips, said:
"Thank you, sir, I should like a ginger beer."
"Barnes!" called the Sub; "bring me a whisky and soda, and a ginger beer
for Mr. Stokes."
The others kept very quiet.
The evening after that court martial had taken place, and just before
dinner, Bubbles and the Orphan, vastly excited, knocked at the door of
the Sub's cabin.
"We've had this made for 'Kaiser Bill'," they both began saying,
bursting in. "Could we get Fletcher and the tortoise down to the
gun-room after dinner, and present it to him--properly?" and they pulled
out a brass cross, shaped like a German "Iron Cross", suspended on a
piece of coloured ribbon with a proper brooch and four "clasps".
The Sub examined it, smiling as he read on one side of the cross "Kaiser
Bill--the Tortoise", on the other "Good Luck"; and on the clasps:
"_Achates_, 1915-16"--"Smyrna"--"'W' beach"--and on the fourth--a very
broad one: "Evacuation, Suvla--Helles".
"We got it made on board," they said. "Haven't they done it well?"
"Where did you get the ribbon?" he asked.
"Off the War Baby's straw hat. He'll never want it. Can we tell
Fletcher to come down after dinner, and will you give 'Kaiser Bill' the
medal? It would be best to come from you."
"All right; tell him to come to the gun-room after 'rounds'."
So off they rushed.
Just after nine o'clock old Fletcher came aft with the tortoise. They
all met him outside, escorted him into the gun-room, and made him sit
down in the one easy-chair, with the tortoise on his knees.
Then the Sub said: "We've had a medal made for 'Kaiser Bill', Fletcher;
we thought you'd like to have it, just to remember what he had been
through, and remind you about it later on."
The old stoker took the medal and its clasps, pulled his gold spectacles
out of their case from inside his "jumper", fixed them on his nose, and
beamed when he read the inscriptions. "Thank you very much, gentlemen!
Thank you all, very much! I'll take it home with me, and I hope I'll
take 'Kaiser Bill' home too. He did bring luck, didn't he? If we'd
only had him with us, that last time in the picket-boat, we shouldn't
have lost her. Should we, sir?"
Then Stokes, very nervous because this was his first public appearance
under his real name, stuttered: "And, Fletcher, the Sub wants me to give
you this box of cigars; he thinks 'Kaiser Bill' likes the smell of cigar
smoke!"
"It's very kind of you all; thank you very much, gentlemen;" and the old
stoker, beaming at them through his gold spectacles, added, artlessly:
"If 'Kaiser Bill' doesn't enjoy the smell of them, I know someone who
does. Thank you all, very much indeed!"
Next morning, just after daybreak, every one of the midshipmen (except
the Hun in his cot) came on deck to see the old walls of Malta standing
up out of the glittering sea, ahead of the ship.
As they watched, and chaffed Rawlins about the dinner he had to "stand"
the Lamp-post at the Club, the messenger-boy from the "wireless" room
brought aft the usual morning "Wireless Press News".
"Beg pardon, sir, but there's something about you this morning," he
said, coming up to the Orphan.
"About me! What d'you mean?"
"There, sir," and the messenger-boy pointed to the end of the last page.
They all crowded round the Orphan, who read: "The following additional
Naval honours appeared in last night's _Gazette_", and at the end of the
list came--and the Orphan's head buzzed--"Distinguished Service
Cross--Midshipman Vincent Orpen".
For a minute he wondered whether it was possible that there could be
another midshipman of the same name; but whilst the others thumped him
on the back and congratulated him, another messenger came flying down
from the bridge: "The Captain wants you, sir, at once."
Not knowing whether he was on his head or his heels, the Orphan flew up
to the fore bridge.
Captain Macfarlane smiled at him and tugged his beard.
"Is it really true, sir?"
"I imagine so; I sent your name in."
"What's it for, sir?"
"I think, Mr. Orpen, for working that maxim in your picket-boat, at
Ajano."
"Thank you awfully, sir! but Plunky Bill was wounded twice, sir."
"Was he the seaman who fired it before you 'took on'?" asked the
Captain.
"Yes, sir; he was hit twice before he gave up."
"I think, Mr. Orpen, you'll find that he has not been forgotten."
"Thank you, sir, awfully! I--I--must go and tell the Hun and the
Sub--won't they be pleased?"
The Orphan thereupon dashed down the bridge ladder.
PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN
_At the Villafield Press, Glasgow, Scotland_
[Illustration: Sketch map of Gallipoli and The Dardanelles]
* * * * * * * *
*BY FLEET SURGEON T. T. JEANS, R.N.*
"The manifold excellences of Fleet Surgeon Jeans' work--its freshness,
its originality, and above all its abiding humour."--Outlook.
_Large crown 8vo, cloth extra. Illustrated_
Gunboat and Gun-runner: A Tale of the Persian Gulf.
"That boy must be a dullard whose pulse does not quicken, or his
imagination begin to glow, when he reads this exciting tale."--Bookman.
John Graham, Sub-Lieutenant, R.N.: A Tale of the Atlantic Fleet.
"A real workaday narrative of midshipmen's life as seen through the eyes
of a young gunroom officer. We cannot imagine a better book for the
mature boy."--Evening Standard.
On Foreign Service: or, The Santa Cruz Revolution.
"His book is among the very first we would recommend."-- Glasgow Herald.
Ford of H.M.S. Vigilant: A Tale of the Chusan Archipelago.
"A distinctly good story."--Naval and Military Record.
Mr. Midshipman Glover, R.N.: A Tale of the Royal Navy of To-day.
"A really first-class book of naval adventure."--Literary World.