'Twixt U-Boat and Arabs
HAD the discovery of the petrol store been made a few hours earlier,
steps would have been taken to cope with the peril from the sea that
menaced the castaways. The defences that had been hurriedly thrown up
had been constructed against attack from the landward side; the
possibility of being shelled from a German submarine had not
previously been taken into account.
Hastily the British seamen set to work to strengthen the parados of
the trenches, in order to convert it into an earthwork sufficiently
strong to resist the comparatively light shells fired from the
hostile submarine.
Bullets from the Senussi now began to sing over the heads of the
defenders. Well it was that the Arabs were very indifferent shots at
long range, otherwise they would have taken a heavy toll of the
seamen who were obliged to present a fair target as they toiled in
the open.
The German submarine, which had been approaching rapidly, had now
eased down. She was running on the surface, showing her conning-tower
and the whole length of her deck. She displayed no colours, but her
two quick-firing guns had been hoisted from below, and were manned
ready for opening fire.
"I feel pretty certain," said Captain M'Bride to Osborne as the
officers kept the hostile craft under observation, "that that
submarine is the one which bagged us--and the _Sunderbund_ as well.
She's been lying off-shore waiting for the weather to moderate in
order to replenish her fuel, and now she finds her depot in our
possession. It was a rotten blunder on her part, sinking the old
_Portchester Castle_ so close to her temporary base."
"If it hadn't been for the firing, perhaps she would have come right
in, sir," remarked Osborne. "Now she has her suspicions."
"The wreck of the ship would in itself give her warning," said the
skipper. "Besides, if she did approach we could do little or nothing.
It's just as likely that there's an understanding between the Arabs
and the Huns. However, we must take things as we find them, and not
look for trouble before it comes."
Accompanied by Lieutenant Osborne, the Captain made a tour of the
trench, where every man who possessed a rifle was kneeling in front
of a loophole, ready at the word of command to pour a destructive
volley into the approaching Arabs. At the left flank stood Webb, with
the Very's pistol in his hand, awaiting the time to fire the petrol.
"Picturesque sight, Mr. Webb," remarked the Captain composedly, but
at the same time his keen eye was trying to detect any sign of
"jumpiness" in the young Sub. But there was none; beyond a slightly
heightened colour, Webb was as cool as if he had been on the
quarter-deck of the _Portchester Castle_.
Captain M'Bride had aptly described the scene that lay before them.
The Senussi were approaching in all the barbaric splendour of their
race. Some were on camels, others astride small wiry horses. With
loose rein they would dash forward perhaps a hundred yards, wheel,
and, firing their rifles somewhere in the direction of the foe, would
tear back for fifty yards, repeating the manoeuvre and uttering
shrill yells of defiance. On their flanks in the rear were crowds of
men on foot, for the most part armed with long broad-bladed spears,
two-edged straight swords, and circular hide shields.
Outnumbering the British by ten to one, the Senussi looked, and were,
formidable. Had every man of the _Portchester Castle_ possessed a
rifle the odds would have been considerably lowered. With a Maxim the
defenders could have regarded the onset as a foregone conclusion in
their favour.
It was to be a tough and desperate struggle. Every man realized
that--a fight to the death, for a worse fate awaited them should they
fall alive into the hands of the savage foe. At all costs the Senussi
must be kept on the far side of the sorry breastwork of sand and the
hedge of thorns, otherwise sheer weight of numbers would decide the
day.
And as if the situation were not serious enough, a U-boat was
threatening to shell their puny defences.
"Don't throw away a single shot, men," cautioned the Captain.
"Reserve your fire till I give the word."
"She's opening the ball, sir," exclaimed Osborne, as a shell from the
U-boat hurtled through the air and exploded away on the right flank,
sending up a huge cloud of smoke and sand.
"Wonder what damage that's done?" remarked Captain M'Bride.
"I'll see, sir, if you wish," said the Lieutenant.
"Do, by all means, Mr. Osborne," was the rejoinder. "I'll make my way
to the centre and await you there."
Before Osborne returned, two more shells had been fired by the
submarine. Whatever damage they might have caused, they also did
good, for the bursting projectiles had the effect of cooling the
ardour of the approaching Arabs. Absolutely fearless as far as
bullets are concerned, they have a wholesome respect for
high-explosive shells which would, in their opinion, render a True
Believer a sorry spectacle when he came to present himself at the
gates of the Mohammedan paradise.
"No casualties, sir," reported Osborne. "The first shell fell short;
the others pitched thirty yards over. One has blown a big gap in our
zariba, unfortunately."
"Strafe her!" exclaimed Captain M'Bride. "She'll be improving on that
before long, I'm afraid."
Even as he spoke there came a loud rumble from seawards--a long
drawn-out report, totally unlike the crisp bark of the German
submarine's quick-firers. Where the modern pirate had been was merely
a dense cloud of greyish smoke.
"She's properly strafed, sir," declared the Lieutenant delightedly,
grasping what he absent-mindedly took to be his uniform cap, with the
result that on removing his calico headgear he brought a handful of
his own hair with it.
"Internal explosion," suggested the skipper. "Well, we've something
to be thankful for. Half our difficulties wiped out in one fell
swoop."
Slowly the smoke dispersed, for there was now practically no wind.
The sea, momentarily agitated by the explosion, had resumed its
oil-like aspect. Not a vestige of wreckage was visible to mark the
grave of yet another of the inglorious pirates. It was indeed a just
retribution. The U-boat, in common with other German war-ships, had
been in the habit of discharging her torpedoes without previously
setting the sinking mechanism according to the recognized rules of
war. Therefore, in the event of a torpedo missing its mark, it would,
at the end of its run, float, and thus become a sort of derelict
mine, instead of sinking to the bottom as these weapons are supposed
to do.
When the submarine attacked the _Portchester Castle_ she had let
loose two torpedoes, one of which hit the mark. The other, passing
under the vessel's stern, came to a standstill a couple of miles off.
By sheer chance the U-boat, while in the act of shelling the shore,
had bumped upon the warhead of the missile she had discharged several
hours previously, with the result that she was practically blown to
pieces with all her officers and crew.
Three hearty cheers from the sun-baked British seamen greeted the
strafing of the craft that was directly responsible for their present
precarious position. Then, having given relief to their pent-up
feelings, the sturdy sailors directed their attention once more to
the danger that threatened them from the landward side.
The Senussi, not knowing what had occurred, and still showing
considerable reluctance to enter the region where the German shells
had fallen, were "marking time". The camel-men had withdrawn behind a
range of sand-hills, but the glint of spear-heads denoted pretty
conclusively that the foe had not decided upon a discreet retirement.
Several times an intrepid sailor stood upon the breastwork, with the
intention of drawing the enemy's fire; but even this tempting bait
did not succeed. The Senussi were evidently going to tire the
defenders by a period of nerve-racking inactivity.
"It's this rotten waiting for something to turn up that makes you
jumpy," declared Webb to Osborne, as during the prolonged lull the
Lieutenant made his way along the trench to see how his chum fared.
"I don't mind so much when these beggars start a rush, but it's the
suspense of expecting them."
"Like our troops on the Somme," rejoined Osborne. "It's the five
minutes' wait before the whistle goes for the men to go over the top
of the parapet, that is such a strain. Once they're off they don't
seem to notice their surroundings. But I've rather bad news, old man.
I've just reported to the skipper that one of those shells has played
Old Harry with the water barricoes. Only three left--and you can
guess what thirst is in this sun-baked spot."
"How long will that last?" asked the Sub.
"Ten days with the utmost economy," said the Lieutenant gravely.
"I say, Osborne----" began Webb.
"Well?"
"Isn't it a good thing, after all, that poor old Laddie isn't with
us? What a horrible time he would have without anything to drink!"
"He would have had half my share whatever happened," declared Osborne
resolutely. "But, unfortunately, there is no necessity for that. I
wish there were."
Webb made no further remark upon the subject. He knew that Osborne
was still awfully cut up about the loss of his pet, and now, rather
clumsily, he had touched upon the matter of the dog's death.
"We do look a pretty pair," he remarked, setting out on a fresh tack.
"Our fond parents wouldn't recognize us if they could see us now."
"They would be very pleased to," was his chum's rejoinder; "or rather,
we should both be most delighted to see them at home. I've had enough
of African sands to last a lifetime. And these flies!"
A petty officer, mopping the perspiration from his face, wriggled
past his comrades in the narrow trench, and approached the Lieutenant
and his chum.
"Cap'n's compliments, sir," he said as he saluted. "He'd like to have
a word with Mr. Webb."
Webb found Captain M'Bride consulting with the gunner and the bos'n.
Seeing Webb hesitate, he signed to him to approach.
"I've a little job on hand, Mr. Webb," he said. "After due
consideration I've decided that you are the best officer I can spare
for the business. We're short of water. Up to the present there is no
sign of the _Restormel_ putting in an appearance to search for us.
The niggers are evidently going to protract their assault and subject
us to a state of siege. So since help is not forthcoming, we must
fetch it. In short, I want you to take the whaler and make a dash for
Crete. Mr. Cox" (indicating the bos'n) "has examined the boat, and
finds that she's seaworthy. A few slight repairs will have to be
made, but they won't take long. The distance is roughly 180 miles,
but perhaps you'll fall in with a vessel before that."
"Hope it won't be a U-boat, sir," remarked the Sub.
"You're game? I need not remind you that it is a risky voyage for an
open boat."
"I'm quite willing, sir," said Webb resolutely.
"As I thought," added the skipper. "Well, good luck! The weather
looks promising, and ten to one you'll get a fair slant of wind
directly you're a few miles from shore."
Delighted at the prospect of being afloat once more, yet reluctant to
have to leave his comrades in dire peril, Webb hastened to make
preparations for his hazardous voyage in the open whaler. He realized
the risk--he also realized the tremendous responsibility, for if he
failed in the enterprise the rest of the survivors of the
_Portchester Castle_ were doomed.