[Illustration: Our splendid Indian troops stood ready at Alexandria to
embark for the Dardanelles.]
ON LAND AND SEA
AT THE
DARDANELLES
T.C. BRIDGES
[Illustration]
CONTENTS
CHAP.
I. THE OPEN PORT
II. THE LAST OF THE 'CARDIGAN CASTLE'
III. THE LANDING
IV. A RUSE OF WAR
V. PROMOTION
VI. GUNS!
VII. 'LIZZIE' LETS LOOSE
VIII. THE HUNTERS HUNTED
IX. THE BATTLE BY ROCKS
X. PRISONERS
XI. THE FIRING PARTY
XII. ABOVE THE NARROWS
XIII. THE SWEEPERS
XIV. G 2
XV. KEN MEETS AN OLD FRIEND
XVI. TACKLING THE TROOPER
XVII. THE BOARDING PARTY
XVIII. RUNNING THE GAUNTLET
XIX. IN THE NICK OF TIME
LIST OF PHOTOGRAPHS
INDIAN TROOPS AT ALEXANDRIA
A FRIENDLY SALUTE
LANDING PARTY AT SARI BAIR
LANDING ON THE BEACH
AN ADVANCE INLAND
No. 1 FORT AT CAPE HELLES
ASLEEP ON A BED OF LIVE SHELLS
BARBED WIRE FOR BOMBS
THE TRIUMPHANT SUBMARINE
BRINGING IN A TURKISH SNIPER
TURKISH ARTILLERY REINFORCEMENTS
SEA-BATHING
ALLIED HEROES IN PLAY-TIME
At the Dardanelles
CHAPTER I
THE OPEN PORT
'Fun!' said Ken Carrington, as he leaned over the rail of the transport,
'Cardigan Castle,' and watched the phosphorescent waters of the Aegean
foaming white through the darkness against her tall side. 'Fun!' he
repeated rather grimly. 'You won't think it so funny when you find
yourself crawling up a cliff with quick-firers barking at you from behind
every rock, and a strand of barbed wire to cut each five yards, to say
nothing of snipers socking lead at you the whole time. No, Dave, I'll lay,
whatever you think, you won't consider it funny.'
Dave Burney, the tall young Australian who was standing beside Ken
Carrington, turned his head slowly towards the other.
'You talk as if you'd seen fighting,' he remarked in his soft but pleasant
drawl.
Ken paused a moment before replying.
'I have,' he said quietly.
Burney straightened his long body with unusual suddenness.
'The mischief, you have! My word, Ken, you're a queer chap. Here you and I
have been training together these six months, and you've never said a word
of it to me or any of the rest of the crowd.'
'Come to that, I don't quite know why I have now,' answered Ken Carrington
dryly.
Burney wisely made no reply, and after a few moments the other spoke
again.
'You see, Dave, it wasn't anything to be proud of, so far as I'm
concerned, and it brings back the most rotten time I ever had. So it isn't
much wonder I don't talk about it.'
'Don't say anything now unless you want to,' said Burney, with the quiet
courtesy which was part of him.
'But I do want to. And I'd a jolly sight sooner tell you than any one
else. That is, if you don't mind listening.'
'I'd like to hear,' said Burney simply. 'It's always been a bit of a
puzzle to me how a chap like you came to be a Tommy in this outfit. With
your education, you ought to be an officer in some home regiment.'
'That's all rot,' returned Ken quickly. 'I'd a jolly sight sooner be in
with this crowd than any I know of. And as for a commission, that's a
thing which it seems to me a chap ought to win instead of getting it as a
gift.
'But I'm gassing. I was going to tell you how it was that I'd seen
fighting. My father was in the British Navy. He rose to the rank of
Captain, and then had an offer from the Turkish Government of a place in
the Naval Arsenal at Constantinople.'
'From the Turks!' said Burney in evident surprise.
'Yes. Lots of our people were in Turkey in those days. It was a British
officer, Admiral Gamble, who managed all the Turkish naval affairs. That
was before the Germans got their claws into the wretched country.'
'I've heard of Admiral Gamble,' put in Burney. 'Well, what happened then?'
'My father took the job, and did jolly well until the Germans started
their games. Finally they got hold of everything, and five years ago
Admiral Gamble gave up. So did my father, but he had bought land in Turkey
and had a lot of friends there, so he did not go back to England.
'It was that same year, 1910, that he found coal on his land, and applied
for a concession to work it. The Turks liked him. They'd have given it him
like a shot. But the Germans got behind his back, and did him down. The
end was that they refused to let him work his coal.
'Of course he was awfully sick, but not half so sick as when a German
named Henkel came along and offered to buy him out at about half the price
he had originally paid for the place.
'Father had a pretty hot temper, there was a flaming row, and Henkel went
off, vowing vengeance.
'He got it, too. A couple of years later, came the big row in the Balkans,
and the war had hardly started before dad was arrested as a spy.'
'Henkel did that?' put in Burney.
'Henkel did it;' young Carrington's voice was very grim. 'Pretty
thoroughly too, as I heard afterwards. They took him to Constantinople,
and--and I've never seen him since.'
There was silence for some moments while the big ship ploughed steadily
north-eastwards through the night.
'And you?' said Burney at last.
'I--I'd have shared the same fate if it hadn't been for old Othman Pasha.
He was a pal of ours, as white a man as you want to meet, and he got me
away and over the border into Greece. It was in Thrace that I saw
fighting. I came right through it, and got mixed up in two pretty stiff
skirmishes.'
'My word, you've seen something!' said Burney. 'And--and, by Jove, I
suppose you understand the language.'
'Yes,' said Carrington quietly. 'I know the language and the people. And
you can take it from me that the Turks are not as black as they're
painted. It's Enver Bey and his crazy crowd who have rushed them into this
business. Three-quarters of 'em hate the war, and infinitely prefer the
Britisher to the Deutscher.'
'And how do you come to be in with us?' asked Burney.
'I joined up in Egypt,' Carrington answered. 'I went there two years ago
and got a job in the irrigation department. I've been there ever since.'
Again there was a pause.
'And what about Henkel?' asked Burney. 'Have you ever heard of him since?'
'Not a word. But'--Ken's voice dropped a tone--'I mean to. If he's alive
I'll find him, and--'
He stopped abruptly, and suddenly gripped Burney's arm.
'There's some one listening,' he whispered. 'I heard some one behind that
boat. No, stay where you are. If we both move, he'll smell a rat.'
'Well, good-night, Dave,' he said aloud. 'I must be getting below.'
Turning, he walked away in the direction opposite to that of the boat, but
as soon as he thought he was out of sight in the darkness, he turned
swiftly across the deck and made a wide circle.
He heard a rustle, and was just in time to see a dark figure dart forward,
the feet evidently shod in rubber soles which moved soundlessly over the
deck.
He dashed in pursuit, but it was too late. Being war time, the decks were
of course in darkness, and the man, whoever he was, disappeared--probably
down the forward hatch.
Ken came back to Burney.
'No good,' he said vexedly. 'The beggar was too quick for me.'
'Then there was some one there?'
'You bet. I saw him bolt.'
'Any notion who it was?'
Ken hesitated a moment.
'I'm not sure,' he answered in a low voice, 'but I've got my suspicions. I
think it was Kemp.'
'What--that steward?'
'Yes, the chap who looks after the baths.'
'My word, I wouldn't wonder,' said Burney thoughtfully. 'He's an ugly
looking varmint. But why should he be spying on you?'
'Haven't a notion. But I've spotted him watching me more than once since
we left Alexandria. I'm going to keep my eye on him pretty closely the
rest of the way.'
'Not much time left, old son. They say we'll be in Mudros Bay to-morrow
morning.'
'Yes, I heard that. Which reminds me. I'm going down to get a warm bath.
It may be the last chance for some time to come.'
This time Ken Carrington said good-night in earnest, and went below.
It was early for turning in, and nearly all of the troops aboard were
still on the mess deck. Ken got his things from his bag and went down the
passage to the bathroom. The 'Cardigan Castle' had been a swagger liner
until she was impounded by Government to act as troopship, and she was
provided with splendid bathrooms.
Carrington opened the door quietly, and was feeling for the switch of the
electric, when he noticed, to his great surprise, that a port hole
opposite was open.
Needless to say, this was absolutely forbidden. In war time a ship shows
no lights at all, and it is a fixed rule that everything below must be
kept closed and curtained.
Before he could recover from his first surprise he got a second shock. A
tiny pencil of light--just a single beam, no more than a few inches in
diameter--struck through the darkness and formed a small luminous circle
upon the white-painted wall above his head.
It only lasted an instant, then a dark figure rose between him and the
open port, and instantly the beam was intercepted, and all was dark as
before.
Through the gloom he vaguely saw the arm of the man who stood in front of
the port raised to a level with his head, while his hand moved rapidly.
Instantly he knew what was happening. This man was signalling. Carrington
had heard of the German signalling lamp which, by means of ingeniously
arranged lenses, throws one tiny ray which can be caught and flung back by
a specially constructed mirror. That was what was happening before his
very eyes. A glow of rage sent the blood boiling through his veins, and
forgetting all about the switch he sprang forward.
As ill luck had it, there was a wooden grating in the middle of the cement
floor. In the darkness, he failed to see this, and catching his toe,
stumbled and fell with a crash on hands and knees.
He heard a terrified yelp, and the man made a dash past him for the door.
But the door was closed. Carrington had shut it behind him. Before the
fellow could get it open, Ken was on his feet again, and had flung himself
on the signaller.
With a snarl like that of a trapped cat, the man wrenched one arm free.
'Take that!' he hissed, and next instant Ken felt the sting of steel
grazing his left shoulder. The sharp pain maddened him, and his grip
tightened so fiercely that he heard the breath whistle from his opponent's
lungs.
At the same time he flung all his weight forward, and the other, thrown
off his balance, went over backwards and came with a hollow crash against
the door.
The two fell to the floor together, and rolled over, fighting like wild
cats.
Ken's adversary was smaller than he, but he seemed amazingly strong and
active. He wriggled like an eel, all the time making frantic efforts to
get his right hand free, and use his knife again.
But Ken, aware of his danger, managed to get hold of the fellow's wrist
with his own left hand, and held it in a grip which the other, struggle as
he might, could not break. At the same time, Ken was doing all he knew to
get his knee on his enemy's chest.
It was the darkness that foiled him--this and the eel-like struggles of
his adversary. At last, in desperation, he let go with his right hand, and
drove his fist at the other's head. He missed his face, but hit him
somewhere, for he heard his skull rap on the floor, while the knife flew
out of his hand, and tinkled away across the cement floor.
Ken felt a thrill of triumph as he heaved himself up, and getting his
knees on his adversary's chest, seized him with both hands by the throat.
Before he could tighten his grip came a tremendous shock, and he was flung
off the other as if by a giant's hand. As he rolled across the floor,
followed a crash as though the very heavens were falling. The whole ship
seemed to lift beneath him, at the same time stopping short as though she
had hit a cliff.
[Illustration: 'Ken flung himself on the signaller.']
For an instant there was dead silence. Then from the decks above came
shouts and a pounding of feet. Half stunned, Ken struggled to his feet,
and staggered towards the door. As he did so, he heard the click of the
latch, and before he could reach it, it was banged in his face.
Groping in the darkness, he found the handle. He turned it, but the door
would not open. In a flash the truth blazed upon him. He was locked in.
The spy had locked the door on the outside. He was a helpless prisoner in
a torpedoed and probably sinking ship.