THE BOARDING PARTY
Ken and his father were both on their feet in an instant. While they had
been talking it had turned misty. It was only a haze, but it blurred the
horizon so that at first they could not see the vessel.
But presently Ken pointed.
'There she is. Do you see, dad?'
Captain Carrington nodded.
'I see her, Ken, but my eyes are not what they were. I can't tell what she
is.'
At this moment Lieutenant Strang stepped up to them.
'It's just as I was afraid, sir,' he said quietly. 'There appears to be
something after us. It's so thick I can hardly make out what she is yet,
but in any case it's precious awkward.'
'Very awkward indeed,' admitted Captain Carrington. 'Alone, you would be
all right, for you could submerge of course, but if so you leave us
prisoners to be picked up again. Still, of course, there is no choice. You
must not risk your ship.'
Strang bit his lip. He knew that Captain Carrington was right. But it went
bitterly against the grain to abandon the people whom he had rescued with
so much trouble. As for Ken, the idea of losing his father again just
after he had found him sent his spirits down to zero.
After a moment's thought, Strang spoke again. 'I might leave the boat,
sir, and tackle this fellow, whoever he is. It's on the cards I might sink
him and come back again and pick you up.'
'That might be worth trying,' answered Captain Carrington. And he spoke as
calmly as if the upshot was of absolutely no consequence to him whatever.
Ken, who had been staring hard at the approaching craft, turned quickly to
the commander.
'Couldn't you capture her, sir?' he said eagerly.
Strang stared as if he thought that Ken had suddenly taken leave of his
senses.
'Capture her?' he repeated.
'Yes, sir. Then you could put all the prisoners aboard her, and they could
find their own way to the hiding place. And Horan and myself, too,
perhaps.'
Strang gave a low whistle.
''Pon my soul, it's an idea. Especially as, being an enemy ship, she
wouldn't be so likely to be searched.'
'It would be very nice for us if it could be managed,' said Captain
Carrington with a smile. 'But I suppose it is quite out of the question,
Mr Strang?'
'It all depends on what she is, sir,' replied Strang, as he put up his
binoculars and focused them on the indistinct patch on the misty horizon.
Presently he put them down.
'She's nothing but a launch,' he said quickly. 'Armed, of course, but
probably only a 6-pounder. I'm hanged if I don't try it.'
'Very good,' said Captain Carrington, speaking as calmly as ever. 'I will
go back into the boat, and tell my friends. By the bye, how would it do to
use us as bait for the trap? If you were merely to submerge, and lie close
by with only your periscopes showing, it seems to me that you might manage
to take them unawares.'
'I've got a better plan than that, sir,' broke in Ken quickly. 'Put Horan
and myself in the boat. Give us some pistols. We'll sham shipwrecked. Most
of us can hide in the bottom of the boat. The launch won't have much of a
crew. With a rush we might overpower them.'
The boldness of Ken's suggestion made both men gasp. Strang was the first
to speak.
'It's a big risk, but it might work. Are you willing, Captain Carrington?'
A grim smile parted the lips of Ken's father.
'Willing! It would make me young again.'
Strang's decision was taken like a flash.
'It goes, then. And I'll lend you a couple of my men as well. Williams and
Johnston. Hefty chaps in a scrimmage, and both equal to engines of any
kind. But we must be smart. This must be done before the Turks get any
notion of what is up.'
He dashed back to the conning tower, and orders flew like hail. The men
were equally quick to obey. Williams and Johnston came tumbling up, and
Roy hard at their heels.
'What's up?' demanded Roy eagerly of Ken, and when Ken had quickly
explained, the big New Zealander's face fairly glowed with delight.
'Fine, oh fine!' he cried. 'I began to think we were never going to get
another chance. 'It's the greatest scheme you ever thought of, Ken.'
Two more bluejackets rushed up, with armfuls of cutlasses.
'Commander says these are the jokers for a scrimmage,' one told Ken, as
they hurriedly passed them across to the people in the boat.
'He's right,' said Roy, 'but we shall want a pistol or two as well.'
'Plenty here, Horan,' said Williams, the torpedo coxswain, holding up a
couple of the big regulation Navy revolvers. 'It's all right. We've got
all we want. Come along in, you two soldiers.'
Ken and Roy tumbled aboard the boat, other three of the ex-prisoners, who
were too old or infirm to be any use as fighters, were hastily transferred
to the submarine.
Inside of three minutes all was ready, the warp was cast off, and the
steel hatch in the conning tower dropped with a clang. In a trice G2 began
to sink, and within an incredibly short space of time she had dipped out
of sight beneath the sea, and the boat lay alone on the surface, rocking
slightly to the send of the small gray waves.
For the first time Ken had leisure to glance round at his companions.
Including Roy, himself, Williams, and Johnston, the full number was
twenty-three, and of them all there was not one who did not look keen and
eager for the fray. All had suffered at the hands of the enemy, some had
lost all they had in the world. Every man was anxious to get a little of
his own back. By the way they gripped the cutlasses that had been served
out, by their grim faces, and eager eyes, Ken felt certain that there
would be no hesitation when the critical moment arrived.
'What is the craft?' asked Roy, who was crowding close beside him.
'Nothing but a launch,' Ken answered.
'She looks pretty big for a launch,' said Roy, staring at the vessel which
was now near enough to see the shape of her.
'Oh, I dare say she's a fifty-footer. And no doubt she carries a good few
men. And a gun, too. It's not going to be any picnic, old chap. Our only
chance is a surprise.'
'And there won't be much surprise about it, if we let them see how many
men we have aboard,' cut in Captain Carrington briskly. The years had
dropped away from him, and he was again the naval officer.
'Get down, Ken, and you too, Horan. Williams and Johnston, hide yourselves
under that tarpaulin forward.'
Very shortly all the younger men of the party were stowed away, some under
the thwarts, others under a couple of tarpaulins which Strang had put in
for the purpose. All weapons were carefully hidden, and the dozen older
men, who were all that were left in sight, were directed to loll about, as
though suffering from long exposure or fatigue.
The haze was thickening, so there was little danger of the people aboard
the launch noticing the manoeuvre.
The launch had, however, sighted the boat. There was no doubt about that,
for she had altered her course, and was coming straight towards them.
'Beastly fuggy under here!' growled Roy in Ken's ear.
'Take it easy, old chap. We shan't have long to wait.'
Ken's father heard, and bent down.
'She's within a mile. Mind you don't move till I give the word.'
'All right, dad,' came the muffled response from under the tarpaulin. 'How
big is she?'
'A good size. She looks as if she carried a score of men. And there's a
6-pounder in her bows.'
Soon she was so near that Ken clearly heard the beat of her engine. His
breath came quick and short. The critical moment was very near.
The revolutions slackened, and a man hailed from the launch, speaking, to
Ken's dismay, in harsh German.
'Who are you? What are you doing there?' the speaker demanded
suspiciously.
'We are British and French from Constantinople,' answered Captain
Carrington, using the same language. 'We were aboard the Turkish transport
"Bergaz" which was sunk earlier in the day by a British submarine.'
'Blitzen!' exclaimed the German angrily. 'Then the message was true after
all. Those verdomde British have managed to pass the mine-fields.
'And where is the submarine?' he demanded savagely.
'She was forced to abandon us. One of your warships hove in sight.'
The German paused a moment. His eyes scanned the surface in every
direction. But there was no sign of G 2's periscopes. Either she had gone
under altogether, or withdrawn to such a distance that her periscopes were
invisible in the mist.
'Train the gun on them,' growled the German officer. Then, raising his
voice, 'If this is a trap, every one of you will pay for it with your
lives.'
'I have told you the literal truth,' said Captain Carrington coldly. 'You
can take us or leave us as you wish.'
Again the German hesitated.
'The safest way will be to haul off and sink them,' he said to a Turk who
stood beside him. He spoke in Turkish, but Ken, of course, understood, and
knowing the brutality of the average German officer, felt anything but
happy.
Apparently the Turkish officer had different views, for after a short
conversation the German gave an order, and the launch moved forward again.
Ken, though he could not see what was happening, heard the beat of her
screw, and every nerve in his body tingled. As for Captain Carrington and
the rest, they sat in their places, not moving an inch, and doing their
best to convey the idea that they were quite worn out, and cared not at
all whether they were retaken or not.
Yet, under his coat, or in his pocket, each man gripped his revolver,
while his cutlass lay handy at his feet.
The launch came on slowly, and her crew fortunately were hardly noticing
the boat. Their eyes were busy, searching the misty surface for the
periscope of their deadly enemy.
Only the German seemed to have any suspicion concerning those in the boat.
When the launch was within about half a dozen yards, he spoke again.
'You there, Englishman, stand up!' he ordered sharply. 'You, I mean, the
one who speaks German.'
Captain Carrington rose leisurely to his feet.
'You will be the first to pay for treachery,' said the German fiercely.
'Put your hands up.'
Ken quivered. To him it sounded as though his father's death warrant had
been sounded. At the first sign of attack the German would shoot him. Yet
he had his orders, and he dared not move.
It seemed an age before he felt a slight jar. It was the launch touching
the boat.
'What's under that tarpaulin?' came the sharp question from the German.
Crack! Crack! Two shots rang out simultaneously. There was a scream and
the sound of a heavy splash.
Ken waited no longer. Like a flash he flung aside the tarpaulin, and
leaped to his feet. The German was gone, he was struggling in the water
and one of their own men was lying writhing in the bottom of the boat.
'Up and at 'em!' came a hurricane yell from Williams, and with one bound
the big coxswain had leaped aboard the launch, and was laying about him
with his cutlass.
Ken waited just long enough to make sure that his father was not hurt,
then followed.
He heard the Turkish officer shout an order for full steam ahead. The
launch darted forward, but it was too late. Johnston and another man
detailed for the purpose had already flung grappling irons across. The
launch drew the boat with her, close alongside.
'Out, ye black-faced blighter!' roared Williams, as he cut down a great
burly Turk who was swinging at him with a rifle butt.
Inside ten seconds every mother's son in the boat had reached the deck of
the launch, and a regular hand-to-hand battle raged.
The launch was heavily manned, and after their first surprise the Turks
pulled themselves together and fought desperately. Though the launch was a
big one, yet there was not much room on her decks for nearly fifty
fighting men, and Ken found himself literally wedged in the centre of a
tight-packed mob, which swayed from side to side as the fighters struggled
frantically for elbow room.
In a way this told in favour of the Britishers. The short, heavy Navy
cutlasses were much better adapted for a mêlée of this sort than the
rifles and bayonets with which the Turks were armed.
Ken found himself up against a tall, brown-faced fellow who looked like an
Arab and was armed with a long sword. He made a fearful slash at Ken, and
though Ken saved his head by a guard with his cutlass, he was beaten to
his knees.
Up went the Arab's sword again, Ken saw the glitter in his savage eyes,
and thought it was all over when, in the very nick of time, a revolver
spat and turned the fierce face into a blood-stained horror.
Struggling up, he saw Roy leap past and fire a second time at a man who
was swinging at him with a rifle butt. The latter, hit in the shoulder,
staggered, caught his heels in the rail, and went backwards into the sea.
On every side revolvers were cracking, there was a confused medley of
blows, yells, and oaths. And all the time the launch, with no one at the
tiller, and the boat fast alongside, charged wildly across the sea.
Man for man, the Turks were better fighters than the boarders, most of
whom were civilians and unaccustomed to the use of weapons. But the latter
were fighting for their lives and were splendidly led by Captain
Carrington, Ken, Roy, and the two big sailor men. It was really the latter
five who carried the day. They were everywhere at once, slashing and
shooting like demons, and by degrees the Turks fell back before them.
Half a dozen or more were driven over the side into the sea, and left
perforce to drown.
At last the Turks broke and gave way. Some dropped their weapons and flung
up their hands in token of surrender.
'They've surrendered!' cried Captain Carrington. 'Give them quarter.'
At that moment Ken saw a Turkish officer, his face covered with blood,
spring out of the crowd aft and rush forward.
'Look out there!' he shouted, and wrenching himself loose from the press,
raced after the man.
The officer, however, had a long start, and before Ken could catch him,
had reached the gun and was swinging it round.
'Look out!' yelled Ken again, as he realised what the man was after. He
was desperate, and meant to turn the gun full upon the packed crowd,
destroying friend and foe alike.
He had got the gun round, his finger was almost on the button when Ken
reached him, and going at him head down, like a Rugby tackier, flung both
arms around his waist.
[Illustration: 'On every side revolvers were cracking.']
With a fierce exclamation, the man hit out with his fist, but the blow
fell harmlessly on Ken's back. Then, twining both hands in Ken's collar,
he made a frantic effort to break his grip and fling him aside.
Ken held on like grim death. If he failed, it meant death for all his
friends. The other was a powerful, wiry man in the prime of life, while
Ken had not yet come to his full strength. For some seconds they struggled
fiercely, the Turk exerting every effort to reach the gun, Ken straining
frantically to hold him off.
Ken's heel caught in a ring bolt. He felt himself falling, but managed to
drag the other down with him. But his own head struck the deck with such
force as to half stun him, and he felt his grip relaxing.
'Dog, you shall die with the rest!' hissed the other, as at last he tore
himself free, and sprang to the gun.
But Ken was not done yet. He had fallen almost under the gun, and swiftly
lifting one foot he kicked out desperately at the gray barrel above him.
There was a crash which nearly deafened him, and for a moment he believed
that the madman had succeeded in his awful purpose. Then a tall figure
sprang across him, and with a shout Roy drove his fist into the Turk's
face.
Up went the man's arms, he staggered back and fell into the sea.
'Well done, Ken!' cried Roy. 'That's finished it.'
Ken scrambled to his feet and stared round in amazement.
'W--Where did the shell go?' he stammered.
'Somewhere in the direction of Constantinople,' was the reply. 'Your kick
did it, Ken.'
'It's all right,' he added jubilantly.' The rest of the chaps have given
in. The launch is ours.'