The Chase of the Felucca
"STRANGE sail bearing N.N.E. seven miles: No. 0916 will proceed and
investigate." This was the reading of a signal hoisted on the
_Fleetwing_ within four hours of the destruction of the submarine.
The sea-plane carrier and her convoy had now entered the southern
limits of the AEgean Sea. Broad on the port quarter could be
discerned the rugged outlines of the Grecian peninsula, while ahead
were the distant Cyclades, a veritable jumble of small islands, most
of which are well-known names in ancient history, when Greece was
Greece--a resolute and hardy nation compared with which the modern
Greek nation is as clay in relation to steel.
It was now towards Milos, the nearmost of these islands, that a small
felucca-rigged craft was making. Had she held on her former course,
which was N.N.W., she might not have aroused the suspicions of the
_Fleetwing's_ officer of the watch; but on sighting the lofty hull of
the sea-plane carrier the felucca had promptly hauled to the wind.
That in itself was a strange manoeuvre, since the wind was in a
quarter that enabled her to have a leading breeze on her former
course.
"Let her rip!" ordered Osborne, addressing the motor
engineer-artificer. "We want to get this job over before dark, if
possible. I suppose," he added in an aside to his chum, "it's only
another wild-goose chase."
"We're generally lucky," rejoined Webb the optimist. "However, I
shouldn't think that yonder craft is likely to cause trouble. My
word, isn't she footing it!"
The last sentence referred to the patrol-boat, which was now cleaving
the tranquil waters at a knot above the contract speed. Her powerful
motors had been running sufficiently to enable them to be "tuned up"
to perfection. She was overhauling the felucca hand over fist.
Upon seeing the unwanted motor craft approach, the sailing vessel,
knowing that escape by flight was out of the question, fell off on
her former course, at the same time hoisting her colours. By the aid
of their binoculars Osborne and Webb made the simultaneous discovery
that the felucca was a Greek--or at any rate that was the nationality
she wished to assume for the present.
"By Jove, they're heaving something overboard!" declared the Sub. "I
distinctly saw splashes under her counter. Wonder if they are mines?"
"I'm sorry for those fellows if that is the case," said Osborne
grimly. "At any rate, if we don't follow in her wake we're safe
enough. Other questions dealing with the matter will be tackled
later."
Apparently the crew of the felucca were particularly anxious for the
objects they had thrown overboard to sink; for, finding that a couple
of almost waterlogged bales were floating astern, one of the men
leapt overboard and slashed furiously at them with a knife. Then, his
task accomplished, finding that he could not overtake the sailing
craft, he struck out for the distant shore.
"Think he'll do it?" enquired Webb. "It's a fearful long way."
"Yes, I do," replied Osborne. "These Levanters are splendid swimmers,
and the sea is particularly warm. He's good for ten miles, I should
say. However, on second thoughts, I think we'll pick him up, and then
devote our attentions to the felucca."
The swimmer, finding that the patrol-boat had altered helm and was
heading in his direction, took in the situation most philosophically.
Treading water he awaited the approach of his captors, and, grasping
a rope thrown to him, swarmed on board with the greatest agility.
"Me think you German ship," he explained nonchalantly.
As he stood dripping on the deck his face was towards the setting
sun. On the other hand, the two officers who were confronting him
were standing back to the dazzling light.
"Oh, indeed!" rejoined Osborne, signing to two of the crew to stand
by. "German ship? No, you won't get me to swallow that yarn, Georgeos
Hymettus."
At the sound of his name the Greek started violently, and made an
attempt to throw himself overboard. In this he nearly succeeded. For,
as he had divested himself of his clothing as far as the waist in
order to swim the better, his wet skin afforded little hold. After a
brief yet furious struggle he was secured and taken below.
By this time the felucca was less than two cables' lengths ahead. Her
crew must have observed the struggle on the patrol-boat's deck.
Without waiting to be hailed, they promptly lowered the huge lateen
sails and awaited their captor's approach.
"Now what's all this running-away business about?" enquired the
Lieutenant, addressing a gaudily dressed Greek who was evidently the
skipper. "Where are your papers? Where's your passenger list? I find
you had a passenger," he added significantly.
The master disappeared into a small deck-house abaft the mainmast.
Webb, revolver in hand, followed.
Meanwhile the two dozen ruffianly-looking fellows who formed the
felucca's crew--she carried an unusually large complement--had gone
for'ard, and were standing in a group around the primitive windlass.
Amidships were Osborne and two of the patrol-boat's crew. Two more
were standing on No. 0916's deck, fending her off with boat-hooks.
The remaining members of the crew were down below in the motor-room.
Suddenly the muffled report of a revolver shot rang out, and a moment
later Webb reappeared, holding the still smoking revolver, and with
his left hand clasped firmly against his mouth. He was gasping
heavily, while his eyes were twitching with pain. By his movements
his chum saw that he was incapable of seeing.
"This way, Tom!" shouted Osborne. He could not go to the aid of his
chum, for, with the report of the pistol shot, the rest of the crew
of the felucca made a concerted rush upon the handful of British.
Flourishing their knives and uttering wild yells, in the hope of
striking terror into the breasts of their numerically inferior
antagonists, they came tearing aft, headed by a tall,
broad-shouldered man brandishing an automatic pistol.
Osborne and his men stood their ground. But for the fact that Webb
had been temporarily rendered incapable, they would have retired to
the deck of the patrol-boat, sheered off, and made good use of their
quick-firers. Until the Sub's rescue was assured, his comrades had to
make good their front.
An excellent shot from Osborne's revolver brought the mate of the
felucca sprawling on his face. Three others of the crew were stopped
by the British fire, but even then the rush was maintained, two of
the Greeks making in the direction of the hapless Sub, who was
groping towards his comrades.
With a bound Osborne gained Webb's side, grasping his shoulder with
his left hand. At the same time he dropped one of the Sub's two
assailants, while the other, making no further attempt to close,
hurled his knife with deadly precision at the Lieutenant.
Stepping adroitly aside, Osborne missed the glittering blade by a
hair's-breadth. The missile, sinking a couple of inches into the
hardwood tiller, quivered like a twanged harp-string. Simultaneously
Webb's revolver dropped from his grasp.
To retreat, leaving the weapon for the use of the enemy, was to court
disaster. Since Osborne could not stoop to recover it without running
grave risks of being taken unawares, he kicked the revolver
overboard, and, still holding Webb's shoulder, dragged the
unresisting Sub to the side.
Here the two seamen were still holding their own, though hardly
pressed. One, bleeding from a clean cut in the left shoulder, had
already accounted for three of his assailants. His revolver being
empty, he had snatched at a knife that was sticking in the bulwarks.
His companion, using his weapon with deadly skill and precision, had
disabled four before the hammer clicked ineffectually upon the empty
chamber.
Grasped by the coxswain of the patrol-boat, Webb was hauled
unceremoniously on board his own craft. Now remained the task of the
rest of the boarding-party, to regain the deck of No. 0916 without
giving the felucca's men a chance of rushing them during the
retrograde movement.
At this critical juncture the bowman of the patrol-boat created a
diversion. Taking a turn with the bight of a rope in order to hold
the two vessels, the seaman sprang to the felucca's deck, brandishing
the gun-metal-tipped boat-hook. Under the formidable blows dealt by
the hefty bluejacket, the Greeks went down like ninepins. Knives were
as nought when opposed to the powerfully wielded pole of ash. Heads
were cracked like egg-shells, arms snapped like match-sticks, and
shin-bones broken like glass under the shower of blows. Even in his
work of self-defence Osborne could not help admiring the
business-like work of his stalwart coxswain.
The struggle was over. Osborne, well-nigh breathless with his
exertions, was compelled to lean against the wall of the deck-house.
Those of the seamen who had come out of the ordeal practically
unscathed, busied themselves by collecting the knives of the
vanquished crew of the felucca, and securing the treacherous Greeks
who had not been reduced to a state of unconsciousness or
helplessness. One by one the prisoners were passed below into the
recesses of the felucca's hold, the hatches were clapped on, and the
British white ensign hoisted in place of the mercantile flag of a
treacherous and effete nation.
By this time darkness was on the point of setting in. The short
period of twilight was giving place to intense darkness, for there
was no moon and the stars were obscured by opaque clouds. The
_Fleetwing_ and the rest of the patrol-boats were already lost to
sight.
Having recovered his breath, the Lieutenant went on board No. 0916.
He found Webb lying on deck, his head supported by a bundle of
sailcloth, and one of the bluejackets bathing his face with
sea-water.
"How goes it, old man?" enquired Osborne.
"Better now," replied 'Webb, striving somewhat ineffectually to force
a smile. "That brute suddenly threw something in my face--ammonia, I
fancy. Just had time to fire my revolver, and then I found myself
gasping for breath. Felt as if my throat was gripped by pincers, and
my eyes were completely bunged up. Yes, thanks, I can see, but it's
still mighty painful. How's the Greek skipper?"
"Dead as a bloomin' door-nail, sir," volunteered the seaman who was
assiduously attending to the injured Sub. "You plugged him properly,
sir. Served the swine right, I'll allow."
"S'pose so," admitted Webb. "I wonder what it was that those fellows
hove overboard?"
"I wonder," rejoined Osborne. "We may find out yet, especially as we
have our old pal Georgeos Hymettus laid by the heels. Well, old man,
excuse me; I've a lot to attend to."
And Osborne spoke without exaggeration. Here he was, with some of his
scanty crew disabled, with a prize on his hands, and out of touch
with his parent ship, while in addition it was black night with a
dangerous and badly charted shore under his lee. It was "up to him"
to extricate his command from the difficulties that beset her, and
with characteristic grit and determination Osborne set about his
task.