Just before sunset I towed both cutters back to their positions, leaving
them there.
Nothing happened during that week, although the darkness was very
favourable for any dhow to try to creep in. At sunrise every morning I
waited inshore to see that the two cutters were safe and had nothing to
report, then pushed farther out to sea to steam slowly up and down,
whilst the men not on duty scrubbed decks, cleaned guns, or washed and
mended their clothes.
It was fearfully hot all this time, and I learnt that Moore was right
after all, and that one could hardly keep awake in the afternoon. From
noon until four o'clock the heat, even under the awnings, was at times
almost unbearable. I could not keep awake myself, so had to let the men
sleep too, and Moore did not hide his satisfaction at my first defeat.
The crew was so small, and, what with men on watch and those wanting
extra sleep after a night's watch, there were seldom more than three or
four "hands" to employ at odd jobs, so precious little cleaning was done
either, and I even began to wonder whether it would not be wiser to
paint the water jackets of the Maxims, and even the six-pounder, as they
were so difficult to keep bright.
"There is either too much wind or not enough" is a sailor's saying about
the Persian Gulf; and although we were actually outside the Gulf itself,
yet the saying held true enough here. Hardly a puff of wind ruffled the
glassy, glaring surface of the sea for those first fourteen or fifteen
days: the sun blazed at us all day from an absolutely silent,
monotonous, burnished sky. I began to curse it when it rose, and when it
did set, and give me a chance to cool down, to dread its reappearance
and the heat of the next day.
Mr. Scarlett told me that I should soon become accustomed to it. He
himself simply revelled in it. He advised me to drink as little fluid as
possible, if I did not want to be covered with prickly heat, and I did
my best to follow his advice, although the desire for liquid was
sometimes almost unbearable.
Another Thursday we spent alongside the _Intrepid_, my chum coming
aboard me to sleep and smoke, and occasionally make some contented
remark. Then back we went to our stations for another week of patient
watching.
On Sunday morning I edged in as usual, to see whether the Baron had
anything to report.
It was about half-past four, still dark, but the darkness rapidly
disappearing, when he flashed a signal lantern, and I answered him.
In ten minutes he was alongside. He had a sick man whom he wanted me to
take on board, so we hoisted him in and put him down below.
"It's only a touch of the sun," the Baron said; "but we can't make him
comfortable here. You can give him back to-morrow."
This occupied perhaps ten minutes. It had become appreciably lighter,
and I could see the sheikh's house or fort looming above our heads as I
started off to go along to Evans.
We had not steamed a mile before we heard a Maxim firing very rapidly.
Looking inshore I could see the cutter pulling in under those cliffs
from which that Afghan had fired at us.
"Put your helm over and wake up the engine-room people," I ordered, and
round we swung. The cutter had now disappeared round the base of the
cliffs, but as we hurried after her we could still hear the Maxim
firing.
We all were grandly excited--all except Mr. Scarlett. As he went down to
see that our guns were ready I saw that his face was a muddy, grey
colour. He would not look me in the face, and his hand was shaking as he
steadied himself by the rail. My former feeling of contempt for his
cowardice came back.
Percy came up with two cups of cocoa and some biscuits, grinning
delightfully; but his face fell when Mr. Scarlett refused any--he
thought that he had not made it properly.
It was quite light now, and I steered wide of the cliffs, in order to be
able to look up the creek more quickly and to be able sooner to help the
Baron if he was "busy".
Then, as the mouth of the creek opened out, there was a shout from
for'ard of "Look, sir; look there!" and I was astonished to see a large
dhow--a very large dhow--lying half in, half out of the water on the
beach, two thousand yards away. A red flag was trailing down from her
ensign staff, and her bows were surrounded by a great crowd of camels
and natives. The cutter was about nine hundred yards away--between us
and the dhow; pulling like mad her men were, and tut-tut-tut-tut went
the Maxim in her bows. I could see the line of bullet splashes, first
in the water, then in the sand among the camels, then in the water
again. They were making bad shooting--a Maxim is always a troublesome
weapon in a moving boat.
"Give them a shell!" I yelled down to Mr. Scarlett. The little
six-pounder barked, and its first shell burst in the water, but the
second sent up a cloud of smoke and sand right among a tangled mass of
camels and men. We saw some camels struggling on the ground, and broke
into cheers as the rest of them were driven frantically up the beach and
the sand-hills, to disappear behind them.
A few chaps, their loose cloaks flapping about, scampered after the
others, until not a single living thing was left in sight.
"She's a fine dhow that," Mr. Scarlett said, coming up the ladder to me,
his voice very shaky. "We shall have to be very careful, sir."
"Careful!" I shouted. "Why, man alive, they've run away! There's not a
soul to stop us. Look at the cutter, man; they're almost up to her."
Mr. Scarlett looked and shivered.
I saw that the cutter had taken the ground. Her bluejackets, with their
rifles in their hands, were jumping into the water and wading ashore,
racing ashore, my chum struggling to get ahead of them.
"Go it, Popple Opstein!" I yelled, unable to control myself, and wished
that the old "_B.A._" would go faster, so that I could be alongside him.
My aunt! What luck! Two dhows in less than a fortnight!
"We shall be millionaires in no time," I said, turning to Mr. Scarlett,
to cheer him up; but he had gone down on deck again.
Then I had to stop my engines. I dared not go in any closer; there was
not a foot of water under my keel.