THE BURNING MUNITION SHIP
"How about a few hours ashore?" asked Sub-Lieutenant Farrar.
"There's a boat at seven bells, I hear."
"Only too delighted," replied Eric Greenwood. "It looks an
interesting old show."
Five weeks had elapsed since the events recorded in the previous
chapter. The two chums, appointed to the "Zenodorus," were
proceeding to Malta on a transport for the purpose of joining their
new ship. Owing to the intricate route taken by the "Timon," the
transport conveying eight hundred troops to Salonika, fifteen days
had elapsed since the two young officers sailed from Plymouth, and
at the present rate of progress the "Timon" might, with luck, drop
anchor in the Grand Harbour at Valletta in about another five days'
time.
At present she was lying off Arezzo, a seaport on the Italian coast
between Genoa and Naples, occupying a mooring close to the
well-guarded entrance to the natural harbour. At another buoy a
cable's length astern (the transport was lying head to wind in the
tideless waters) was a large grey-hulled merchantman flying the
Italian flag. Alongside one of the wharfs were two submarines
displaying the red, white, and green ensign of Italy, and another
with the tricolour of France. A Greek dispatch boat and half a dozen
patrol craft completed the number of Allied vessels in the harbour
of Arezzo.
"A whacking lump of a boat," remarked the A.P., indicating the
merchantman. "Wonder why she's here? I should think there's hardly
enough water for a vessel of her draught."
"She's the 'Giuseppe,' I understand," replied Farrar. "Chock-a-block
with American-manufactured munitions for the Italian front. Water?
She's in eleven fathoms at the very least. Hullo, ready? The
steam-boat's alongside."
In the company of about a dozen naval and military officers the two
chums descended the accommodation-ladder and entered the waiting
boat, their departure being followed by the envious glances of
hundreds of Tommies, to whom the opportunity of setting foot on
Italian soil was denied.
"Not much of a show," commented Greenwood after the two officers had
explored the narrow street that formed the principal thoroughfare of
the town of Arezzo. "The place looks jolly picturesque at a
distance, but on a closer acquaintance one's enthusiasm is apt to
fall flat."
"I vote we get some grub before we go on board," suggested Farrar.
"By Jove, look at those oranges! And the price! After paying
fivepence each for them in England a dozen for a copper coin
corresponding to our penny does seem a bit cheap."
"Not being able to export them, I suppose they have to practically
give them away," remarked the A.P. "On the other hand, look at the
price of coal here. I've been working it out: it's something like
£13 a ton."
"There's one thing," rejoined the sub, speaking somewhat at random,
"it's too jolly hot here for coal to be in great demand. Here,
before we get anything to eat let's have a look at the railway
station. I always had a weakness for watching trains."
A troop train was drawn up alongside the low platform. Hundreds of
reservists from Campania and Calabria were being hurried northward
to the Venetian plains--slim olive-feature men, short of stature,
yet looking full of enthusiasm. Catching sight of two British naval
officer the soldiers opened a wordy fire to the accompaniment of
fantastic gestures.
"Perhaps it is as well that we don't understand Italian," laughed
the A.P., as the train, the carriages of which being of the most
modern trans-continental type, moved out of the station, while
almost immediately behind another train that had been waiting at a
siding drew up.
There was no mistaking the nationality of the occupants of the
dingy, grimy carriages. At every window appeared cheerful,
sun-tanned faces.
From one of the _wagons-à-lit_ descended three or four officers,
looking begrimed, unshorn, and dog-tired, but nevertheless full of
buoyant spirits.
"Hullo!" facetiously exclaimed one, addressing Farrar and his
companion. "This looks better. Don't say we have arrived at Calais
at last?"
"A few miles farther," replied the sub.
"And an hour's stop at every hundred yards--almost," rejoined the
military man. "Arezzo, eh? Five hundred miles from Taranto, an'
we've only taken three days an' three nights--bless 'em! Yes, we're
from the Salonika front. First leave for eighteen blank months.
Every ten miles the train stops. The engine's running on wood fuel,
and so we have to set all hands to work and cut down timber."
"And not a chance of a bath," chimed in another. "The brigands on
the engine rush you half a lire for hot water for shaving, so I'm
growing a beard. Wish I'd taken the chance to go home by boat. I'd
jump at it now--U-boats and other side-shows included."
"Cheer up, Shortie!" exclaimed another. "Bear your burden like a
proper foot-slogging subaltern. You're going home. All aboard, you
fellows; Old Paulo is going to take us another mile on our long trek
to Blighty."
The guard hurried along the platform, gesticulating violently. The
tired but indomitable Tommies suffered themselves to be returned to
their comfortless carriages, and with a succession of labouring
grunts and jolts the leave-train steamed out of the station.
Half an hour later, as Farrar and the A.P. were making for the quay,
they became aware of a babel of voices coming from the direction of
the harbour. Presently wildly excited men, women, and children began
to stream in the direction of the two officers, until the usually
sleepy street was packed with a mob of Italians, who bore every sign
of being in a state of complete panic.
"What's the commotion, I wonder?" remarked Greenwood. "Austrian
aircraft, or has a U-boat barged into the harbour?"
"Something fairly exciting. Let's hurry, old bird."
Hurrying was no easy matter, owing to the press. Several times
excited individuals grasped the officers' arms, and by words and
signs indicated that they should avoid some unknown danger. It was
not until the British officers gained the end of the Strada Marina,
and came within view of the harbour, that the nature of the peril
became apparent.
The munitions ship "Giuseppe" was ablaze from stem to stern. The
flames had secured a firm hold upon the boat and spar decks, but,
for some unexplained reason the fire had not yet eaten its way
downwards, where thousands of tons of explosives were stored.
With the results of the fearful catastrophe at Halifax fresh in
their minds, the inhabitants of Arezzo were flying from the town in
the hope of being able to put a safe distance between them and the
source of the impending explosion. The Italian senior naval officer
had behaved with coolness and promptitude, hoisting a peremptory
signal for all shipping to leave the port and steam seawards.
Already the "Timon," the patrol boats, and destroyer, and most of
the merchantmen, had obeyed the order, while the Italian submarines
were hurrying towards the open sea in order to submerge until the
danger was over.
So rapidly had the flames spread that the "Giuseppe's" boats were on
fire before they could be lowered. Already several of the falls had
been burnt through, and the boats had fallen, still blazing, into
the water. Right aft, and frequently obscured from view by the thick
clouds of smoke, were about twenty of the crew of the munitions
ship, either unable to swim or else too dazed to make the attempt.
Farrar glanced at his chum and pointed to the burning vessel.
"Shall us?" he inquired.
"Let's," replied the A.P. promptly.
Both men realised the nature of the impending danger, but the
thought of being able to make an attempt to save life banished all
sense of self-preservation. In cold blood they might have thought
twice before lingering in the vicinity of a floating cargo of
explosives that might be detonated at any moment. It was the British
seaman's instinct to "butt in and do a bit" that supplied the
stimulus to their formidable task.
Lying along the quay were dozens of boats--long "double-enders,"
with high prows and stern-posts after the manner of Mediterranean
craft. In almost every one were oars, for in their hasty flight the
boatmen had given no thought for their property, although now,
doubtless, they were bemoaning the anticipated destruction of their
means of livelihood.
Selecting a long carvel-built boat the two officers cast off painter
and stern-fast, and seizing the oars pulled in the direction of the
"Giuseppe." It was a slow business propelling a strange craft, for
each of the oars worked on a single thole-pin, which was so placed
as to allow the rowers to stand and face the bows and push rather
than pull the long oars.
The air was heavy with pungent fumes. Clouds of black smoke eddied
incessantly over and around the boat, obscuring the burning ship
from the two young officers' view. The heat was terrific, while the
crackle and roar of the flames dominated all other sounds.
"Way 'nough!" shouted Farrar, as the towering stern of the
"Giuseppe" loomed through the smoke. "Jump for it, men."
Although unable to understand English, the survivors of the crew
grasped the significance of the sub's words. Half a dozen leapt,
retaining sufficient presence of mind to jump into the water and not
directly into the boat. These soon clambered over the sheering
gunwales, and in their terror made a frantic dash for the oars to
back the little craft away from the burning ship.
"Avast there!" ordered the sub peremptorily; but it was not until he
had planted a truculent Italian a blow on the chest that his command
was obeyed, the men cringing and whimpering as they huddled on the
bottom-boards.
Others of the "Giuseppe's" crew descended by means of ropes, until
the little craft was dangerously overcrowded.
"Enough for one trip, Slogger?" inquired the A.P.
Farrar shook his head.
"No time," he decided promptly. "The others can keep overboard and
hang on to the gunwales. We'll double-bank the oars and push her
along."
With difficulty restraining the remaining rescued members of the
"Giuseppe's" crew from clambering into the now deeply laden boat,
the two British officers re-shipped the oars. Aided by several of
the less panicky Italians, they rowed the sluggish craft shorewards,
her progress greatly impeded by the drag of the men alongside.
The immediate work of rescue completed, the sub began to awake to
the grave possibilities of the position. Considering the immense
volume of fire it was little short of miraculous that the "Giuseppe"
had not already been blown sky-high. Her crew might reach the shore
in safety, but the chances of escaping beyond the danger-zone were
very remote.
Even as Farrar watched the burning ship, the while straining
desperately at the heavy oars, the enveloping pall of smoke was rent
by a vivid flash. An ear-splitting detonation followed, while the
hitherto calm water of the harbour was lashed with furious waves.
Panic seized upon the "Giuseppe's" crew with redoubled violence.
Throwing caution to the winds they dipped the boat's gunwale. A
short, crested wave breaking inboard completed the catastrophe, and
the next instant the two British officers found themselves "in the
ditch" in the midst of a struggling mob of Italian seamen.
Several of the latter could swim, and quickly struck out for the
quay, which was now less than fifty yards away. Others grasped the
keel of the upturned boat, while the rest clutched their comrades in
distress with a vehemence that led to a series of frantic combats in
the water.
"Fine old lash-up," soliloquised the sub as he struck out in order
to avoid the embraces of a partly water-logged Genoese. "How comes
it that we are still alive?"
Somehow it did not seem quite in accordance with the accepted
theories that such an immense bulk of explosive had not exterminated
every living thing within a couple of miles' radius.
"Hullo, Slogger!" shouted Greenwood, treading water on the outskirts
of the crowd of immersed Italians. "Who's for the shore? I for one."
Just then, a boat manned by four men swept round one of the
projecting heads of the jetties. Its crew consisted of the British
military officers who had gone ashore from the "Timon." Scorning to
take to their heels the officers had gone down to the quay to see
what had become of the transport, and noticing Farrar and the A.P.
putting off to rescue they had at once set to work to follow their
example. It was only a lack of skilled boatmanship that prevented
them acting in company with their naval confrères; as it was, they
were just in time to "put the finishing touches" to the work of
rescue.
Safely in the boat the sub directed his attention to the "Giuseppe."
She had sunk to the bottom of the harbour, her funnels, stumpy
derrick-masts, and a portion of her charred upper-works still
showing above the surface.
Two cables' lengths away lay the French submarine, with a kedge
anchor laid out on each side of the bows and a long grass warp from
her stern to a bollard on the head of one of the jetties.
It was the ready mind of the _lieutenant de vaisseau_ that had saved
the situation. The submarine, with her propellers disabled by the
result of an encounter with a U-boat off the Corsican coast, had put
into Arezzo for repairs. When the "Giuseppe" took fire the submarine
found herself in a helpless position, being unable to accompany the
rest of the vessels to sea.
The French officer might have ordered his men to seek safety in
flight, but in that case his craft was doomed to destruction. Up
against a tight proposition he acted with the resource and good
judgment of a worthy son of France. Ordering two anchors to be laid
out well in the direction of the burning ship he kedged the
submarine out of the basin until her bow tubes could be brought to
bear upon the "Giuseppe." By firing a torpedo at the burning ship he
ran a chance of precipitating the end should the force of the
explosion be communicated to the dangerous cargo.
It was once more a case of fortune favouring the bold. The torpedo
did its work effectively, without detonating the munitions on board
the "Giuseppe." In less than ten minutes the inrush of water through
the huge rent in the ship's side caused her to founder, and further
danger was at an end.
The military officers insisted upon taking Farrar and the A.P. to an
hotel to obtain the loan of some clothes while their own could be
dried. The place was deserted, like almost every other building in
Arezzo, but the British visitors were not to be denied. Great was
the astonishment of the "padrone" when, on his return, he found the
hotel in the possession of a group of English officers, two of whom
were rigged out in garments that he recognised as his own.
"The 'Timon' is returning," announced a major of artillery. "Come
along, boys; let's settle up and foot it."
The host, with many expressions of regret at the departure of his
guests, bade them farewell.
"Ze Inglis papairs 'ave arrive," he vociferated. "All ze war-news
an' big police news. Me sell copy--only one lira."
"Evidently Old Umberto imagines the latter item is an irresistible
bait," remarked the A.P. as he unfolded a five days' old copy of a
London evening journal. "Anything startling, I wonder?"
"Nothing much," replied Farrar, who was already glancing down the
columns. "Usual tosh. One minister makes a flamboyant speech; his
colleague utters a jeremiad that would make an outsider imagine that
everything was lost. Some very pertinent questions asked in the
House on naval matters, by Jove! Hullo, what's this? 'German
Prisoners Escape:--On Monday evening four German naval officers
succeeded in escaping from Stresdale Camp, and up to the time of
going to press they are still at liberty. The names and descriptions
of the escaped prisoners are: Otto von Loringhoven, aged 32, speaks
English fluently.' What do you think of that?"
"They won't get far," declared Greenwood optimistically. "We'll read
in a day or two that they've been collared."
"Let's hope so," added the sub.