THE BATTLE BY ROCKS
Roy saw Ken's dismay.
'Sorry, old chap,' he said simply. 'I thought you understood.'
Ken smiled back.
'I'm afraid I took it for granted that you had it all pat. You see, I
don't know the first thing about mountaineering myself. Can't we get back
the same way we came?'
Roy shook his head.
'It's too big a reach. But don't worry. We'll find some way out. Stop here
a minute and I'll go and have a squint round.'
Ken looked at him.
'You'll be careful, Roy? Hadn't I better come and give you a hand?'
'I'll call you if I want you,' said Roy. 'I'm going to see where this
ledge leads.'
He strolled off as calmly as though walking along a twelve-inch ledge over
a two hundred foot drop was as simple as a promenade down the sunny side
of Piccadilly. Ken, feeling anything but happy, watched him until he was
hidden behind a shoulder of rock.
It was quite five minutes before he came back.
'It's all right,' he said cheerfully. 'True, we can't get up, but I think
we can get down. This ledge drops a long way, and there seems to be
another below it. Let's have our grub and go along.'
He ate his share of Ken's rations with evident appetite, and Ken did his
best to follow his example. But it would be idle to say that Ken felt
happy. Glancing down into the tremendous depths that yawned below, he felt
that he would infinitely rather charge a score of Turks, single-handed,
than try to make his way down the face of the gigantic wall of rock.
Roy finished his food, brushed the crumbs from his tunic, and taking the
bayonet which--with the automatic pistol captured from Kemp--were the only
weapons they had, walked off along the ledge.
Ken set his teeth and followed.
'Look up, not down,' said Roy quietly, and Ken did his best to obey.
The ledge, though narrow, did not really present any particular
difficulties. As Roy said, 'If it wasn't for the big drop below, you
wouldn't think twice about it.'
Ken knew this was true, and tried hard to keep it in his mind.
Presently, however, the ledge began to narrow again, and the only way to
tackle it was to flatten themselves, limpet-like, against the cliff face,
and claw their way onwards, gripping every possible little projection
which gave any sort of hand hold.
At last Roy pulled up.
'Capital!' he said. 'You're doing first-rate, Ken. That's as far as we can
go on this ledge. We've got to drop to the lower one now. Don't worry.
It's not as bad as that first drop we had to do last night.'
As he spoke, he stooped, gripped the edge of the ledge with his hands, and
let himself down gently. There was a knob of rock about seven feet down.
He got his feet on this, then reached up for the bayonet which Ken held.
As before, he jammed this into a crevice so as to give himself something
to hold by, then signalled Ken to follow.
Ken's heart was in his mouth. The projection seemed hardly large enough
for one pair of feet, let alone two. But when he reached it he found that
Roy had left it all for him. He himself had stepped off, driving his toes
into a mere crevice alongside.
'Keep hold of the bayonet till I tell you to move,' came Roy's quiet
voice. 'Afraid we'll have to leave it where it is. We can't shift it
again. That's right.'
'Now get your fingers into that crack to the right. I'm going to move your
feet for you.'
What Roy was doing Ken could not tell, and he dared not look. But a moment
later he felt the big fellow's hands shifting his feet.
There came a sharp rattle of falling stones, a quick gasp.
A spasm of fright clutched him. For the moment he fully believed that Roy
had fallen.
'Roy! he cried sharply. 'Roy!'
'All right, old man. It's quite all right. Just a chunk of rock broken
out. The stuff's a bit rotten, but I've got good hand hold.'
A pause. Then, 'Now you can move.'
Again Roy's strong hands shifted his feet. Twice more this happened; then
just as he began to feel that he could stand the strain no longer, he
heard Roy's jolly laugh.
'We've done it. One step more, and you're on the ledge.'
A moment later, and they stood together on a ledge nearly a yard wide. It
seemed like a turnpike road compared to the one above.
[Illustration: Tins and barbed wire are cut up in the Dardanelles as
'filling' for bombs.]
[Illustration: Our gallant bluejackets cheered the return of the
triumphant submarine after her wonderful achievement.]
Roy drew a long breath.
'That was a bad bit,' he said. 'As bad as anything I ever struck. Don't
mind telling you now, Ken, that I was in a blue funk.'
'You didn't show it,' Ken answered rather breathlessly. 'If you had, I
believe I should have crocked.'
'You didn't, anyhow. That's the main thing. And I wouldn't ask a better
man to go climbing with. You kept your head, and did what you were told.
Well, now I think the worst is over. This looks like a regular fault in
the strata, and it ought to take us to the bottom.
Roy's judgment was correct. There were still some nasty places, but
nothing like what they had already tackled, and within another quarter of
an hour they had reached the bottom of the gorge.
A little stream ran down the centre, finding its way among piled masses of
fallen rock. On each side the cliffs towered so high that only a mere slit
of sky was visible. It was as wild and gloomy a spot as Ken had ever seen.
'I've seen better walking,' observed Roy, as a flat stone slipped under
his foot, and nearly pitched him over into the bed of the brook.
'It's better than that abominable cliff, anyhow,' returned Ken. 'But I'd
give something to know where we're going.'
'I can tell you. The sea. If we follow the stream we're bound to reach
salt water.'
'But where?' said Ken--'where? I don't know that I've got the points of
the compass very clear in my head, and there's no sun visible yet, but if
I'm not mistaken, this brook runs east, not west.'
Roy pulled up with a puzzled expression on his face.
'Pon my Sam, I believe you're right. In that case, this is the head waters
of some stream that runs out into the Straits.'
'That's my notion, and consequently we're still going plumb in the wrong
direction.'
'We can't help it,' said Roy. 'It's no use trying to climb up the far side
over the top of the hill.'
'Not a bit. The first thing to do is to get out of this gorge. After that
we must see if we can't skirt round the base of the hill, and get back
somehow.'
Roy nodded, and for some distance they continued on their uncomfortable
way in silence.
'Not much more of it,' said Roy at last. 'We're getting near the mouth
now.'
'And that's where our troubles are going to begin,' said Ken with a smile.
'It looks to me as if we were the best part of three miles inland.'
'Which means that we've got to get through the whole bunch of the Turks,'
answered Roy. 'I say, don't you wish we'd got our whole crowd up here?
We'd take the enemy in the rear and play old Harry with them.'
'No use wishing that. But I'll tell you what, Roy. If we ever do get back
we'll have some useful information for the colonel.'
Roy nodded, as he scrambled on to the top of a big rock.
'I can see out of the mouth of the gorge from here,' he said, as he stood
on the summit, 'and by the look of the country you're about right as to
the course of this brook. We're the other side of the water-shed
altogether.'
Ken clambered up beside him. A couple of hundred yards farther down the
gorge ended, or rather turned into a shallow ravine, down which the stream
found its way into a broad valley below. A rough track crossed this
valley, and Ken pointed to figures looking no bigger than dolls in the
distance, which moved along it.
'Reinforcements coming up,' he said. 'They'll be from Kojadere. We must
keep clear of that road. Seems to me the best thing we can do is to swing
to the right and work round the shoulder of the hill.'
'Yes, if we can find cover. Well, there's nothing to stop us from climbing
up here. The bank don't amount to anything.'
He was right, and turning at once they scrambled up the steep rocky slope.
It was broken with projecting crags, and almost covered with brush, which
gave them ample cover. Reaching the top, they got a sight of the sun, and
found that they were facing almost due east. The guns were still
thundering behind them, but their sound was deadened by the great mass of
hill which lay between them and the sea.
The hill-side was thick with scrub and there was no difficulty about
getting forward. They went on steadily, and had travelled about half a
mile when they entered a little wood. Passing through this, they were
dismayed to find themselves on the edge of a steep bank about sixty feet
high, with the track running at the bottom of it, and, beyond, a wide
space of open valley rising again to a hill opposite.
'This is no use,' said Roy. 'We're bound to be spotted if we try to cross
that open.'
'No, we must keep on this side for the present,' answered Ken, as he
turned back into the trees.
Presently they heard a tramping of feet, and peering through the leaves
saw a body of Turkish troops, about a hundred strong, marching stolidly
along beneath them.
'My word, if we only had a maxim!' muttered Roy, as he stared at the
closely-formed column. 'Couldn't we make hay of 'em?'
Ken did not answer. He watched the men pass on until they were out of
sight around a curve in the track. Then he and Roy moved on again.
Round the next bend, they found themselves at the end of the friendly
wood, and the ground beyond was a deal more open than seemed healthy.
'We'll have to wait until those chaps are well out of the way,' said Ken,
and calmly sat himself down on a big stone, one of many which lay among
the tree trunks.
'Hope they'll hurry,' said Roy rather viciously. 'I'm infernally hungry. I
want to get back to my dinner.'
While Ken rested Roy stood staring out through the tree trunks.
Presently he turned to Ken. 'Tell you what, Ken, I believe there's a
chance for us now. There's another patch of wood less than a quarter of a
mile away, and if we watched our chance we might slip across without being
spotted. Beyond it, the ground rises again, with a lot of rocks and scrub.
Plenty of cover at any rate. What do you think?'
Ken got up and took a long and careful survey.
'It looks all right,' he said at last. 'I'm game to try it anyhow.'
'Then the sooner the better. Those Turks have topped the rise.'
They were on the point of starting when Ken heard a sound which made him
seize Roy's arm.
'Steady a minute! There's something else coming up the track.'
They dropped flat and lay waiting. Sure enough, there was a low rumble of
wheels, and after a few minutes a team of mules came into sight around the
left-hand curve, dragging a field-piece, and accompanied by about a dozen
Turkish gunners.
'Just as well we waited,' whispered Roy. 'We shouldn't have stood much
show if we'd dropped down under their noses, eh?'
Ken did not answer. He was staring fixedly at the gun. His eyes were very
bright.
He turned to Roy.
'That's going to be used to smash our chaps, Roy. Jove, if we could only
stop it!'
'Stop it?' repeated Roy in amazement. 'My dear chap, we haven't even got
our rifles. They're lying smashed up at the bottom of the gorge. The only
weapon we've got left is this automatic.'
'We've got something better than bullets,' Ken answered very quietly. He
laid his hand as he spoke upon one of the big loose boulders which lay in
front of him.
'See here,' he went on, 'they'll come right underneath us. If we could get
this rock down on the team, it would probably stampede the mules. Then
before the men have recovered from their confusion, we ought to be able to
give them a couple more. If we could land one on top of the gun itself, it
would damage it pretty badly, even if it doesn't smash the mountings and
make it useless. What do you say?'
'Say--why that it's the greatest scheme ever hatched, and I'm with you
every time,' Roy answered, his face glowing with excitement. 'And, by
Jingo,' he added, 'if we'd picked the spot for bringing it off, we
couldn't have done better.'
This was true enough. The spot where they were perched was fully sixty
feet above the road, and the slope below was next door to perpendicular.
For another thing, the supply of boulders was unlimited.
The one to which Ken had pointed weighed perhaps a quarter of a ton and
was shaped rather like a gigantic egg. He put his weight against it, and
found that it rocked, but even so, he could not be quite certain that
their combined efforts could start it over the edge.
'Wait!' whispered Roy, and turning slipped away into the thick of the
trees. He was back in a minute, carrying a heavy piece of dead timber.
'This ought to do the trick,' he said softly. Ken nodded.
Meantime the Turks below, all unsuspicious of what was brewing, came
slowly and steadily along the road. Slowly, because not only is a
77-millimetre gun with its caisson a heavy weight, but also because the
road was merely an apology for one. It was nothing but a deeply rutted
track thick with sand and loose stones.
The men were in charge of a non-commissioned officer, a Turk like
themselves, and consequently were taking it very easy, strolling along,
smoking and chatting.
Roy drove his stake deep under the big rock, and gave a slight heave.
'She'll shift all right,' he whispered in a tone of quiet satisfaction.
'All right. Wait till I give the word,' said Ken, with his eyes fixed upon
the long gray gun which came jogging slowly onwards, its grim muzzle
swaying and lurching as the wheels took the ruts in the road.
It seemed a long time before it came opposite. Then at last Ken gave one
word.
'Now!'
In an instant they were both on their feet, Roy tugging on the lever, Ken
bracing all his weight on the big rock.
It moved, it rolled slowly over, seemed to pause a moment on the edge of
the bank, then suddenly shot forward. Ten feet below, it alighted on the
slope, rebounded, and at the same time started half a dozen other stones.
In a moment a rock avalanche was roaring down the steep. The great stone
led the way. In a series of gigantic leaps, each longer than the last, it
thundered downwards, at each jump starting fresh tons of the loose shale
which covered the bank.
A cloud of dust rose like smoke, and hid all below. Then from out the
cloud came squeals and shrieks.
In their excitement, Ken and Roy actually forgot to send fresh stones to
follow the first. There was no need. When the dust cloud cleared, one mule
which had broken loose was galloping madly across country, the rest were
down and dead.
The gun, dismounted, was half buried in a pile of shale which lay feet
deep across the road. Of the men, not one remained. Most were not only
dead, but buried. Two only lay clear, and to all appearance they were as
dead as their companions.
Roy looked at Ken.
'What you might call a clean bit of work,' he said, but though he tried to
smile, there was something like awe in his voice.
'Yes. A ten-inch shell could hardly have done more,' Ken answered. 'Poor
beggars! It's rather ghastly wiping 'em out like that, but one has got to
remember that that gun would have probably finished ten times the number
of our chaps if they'd got it into position.
'We'd better go down,' he added. 'We may find a couple of rifles, and I'll
lay we shall need them before we reach our own lines.'
It was an awkward job to get down the bank, for the shale was so loose it
kept breaking away under their feet. They had to go quickly, too, for
there was every chance of fresh reinforcements or more guns coming up the
road.
Fortunately no one else appeared, and in a very few minutes they were busy
hunting among the pile of rocks for rifles that had escaped injury. They
found three, but only one was serviceable. The sights of the others were
damaged. They also found food. It was bread, dark-looking and very stale,
and goats' milk cheese.
But they were far too hungry to be particular. They stuffed it into their
pockets.
At that moment came a deep groan from among the rocks.
Ken swung round sharply.
'There's one of 'em alive in there,' he said quickly, 'we can't leave the
poor beggar to die by inches.'
[Illustration: 'A rock avalanche was roaring down the steep.']
He began rolling the stones aside, and guided by the groans he and Roy
soon pulled out a youngish Turk and laid him on the side of the road.
Ken examined him quickly.
'He's got off cheaply,' he said. 'Nothing broken--nothing the matter, so
far as I can see, except bruises and a cut on the head. Give him a drop of
your brandy, Roy.'
As Roy unscrewed the stopper, the Turk's eyes opened, and he stared up at
his rescuers in blank amazement.
'Englishmen!' he muttered.
Roy put the flask to his lips, but he shook his head.
'Water,' he said in Turkish.
'It's against his religion to drink wine or spirits,' Ken explained to
Roy, and put his own water-bottle to the man's lips.
'I thank you,' said the Turk with grave courtesy. He sat up and looked
round at the ruin on the road.
'We did not know that your guns were near enough to drop shell upon us,'
he said. 'Nor had we any notion that your troops had advanced so far
inland.
'Well, it is Allah's will,' he continued resignedly. 'And our fate for
being driven into an unjust war. I am your prisoner.'
'We don't want any prisoners,' Ken answered with a smile, and at his
fluent Turkish the man's dark eyes opened in evident surprise. 'You are
free.'
The Turk stared.
'Then you are separated from your own regiment,' he said keenly, and by
his accent and language, Ken realised that he was a man of some education.
Ken did not answer.
'Your pardon, effendi,' said the Turk. 'I did not mean to ask idle
questions. I thank you for your kindness, and I wish you happiness.'
'Come on, Ken,' broke in Roy, who was scanning the country uneasily. 'We
are right out in the open here. That chap will be all right. Let's get
into that wood as sharp as we can.'
'One moment,' said Roy, and turned to the Turk.
'If you care to do us a good turn, tell us the nearest way back to Gaba
Tepe.'
The Turk pointed up the road.
'That is the nearest way, but, I need not tell you, the most dangerous.
Our lines lie between here and the British. You must wait for the darkness
of the night or you will for a certainty be captured. My advice to you is
to conceal yourselves among the trees in the wood, and wait until the sun
shall have set.'
'I thank you,' said Ken courteously. 'Is there anything else in which we
can assist you?'
'There is nothing, I thank you. I will rest a while, then move onwards. In
the name of the Prophet, I wish you a safe journey.'
'What tale was he pitching you?' said Roy impatiently, as he set off at a
great rate for the wood opposite.
'He advised us to lie up for the rest of the day, and try to slip through
their lines at night.'
Roy grunted. 'And I suppose he'll watch where we go and set his pals on us
as soon as they come along.'
'He will do nothing of the sort,' Ken answered rather hotly. 'For
goodness' sake, don't go judging the Turk by the German, Roy. That fellow
considers that we have done him a favour, and nothing would induce him to
betray us.'
'Sorry I spoke,' said Roy briefly, 'but you were so long I was getting
into a horrid stew. Even now, one can't tell whether we've been spotted,
and it isn't likely that the next German who comes along is going to be
kind to us when he sees what we've done to his nice new gun.'
No more was said until they reached the wood and flung themselves panting
under the shade of a scrubby live oak.
'Now we can take a bit of a breather,' said Roy. 'And a bit of lunch, too.
Here, catch!' He flung a chunk of bread across to Ken.
But Ken had sprung up. He was listening keenly.
'Bunk!' he muttered. 'There's cavalry coming.'