FAILURE AND SUCCESS.
Our experiments at chupattie-making had led us in the end to grind the
wheat in two stages--first into coarse meal, and then, with a finer
setting of the mill, into flour. This meant less strain both for us and
for the machine: upon the safety of the latter practically depended
our survival, and frequent were the exhortations to the miller on duty
not to be too violent with the wretched little handle. Standing there
in the sun--for though there were trees in the ravine, they were not
high enough to shelter a man standing up--one was greatly tempted to
hurry through the task of twenty hoppers full of grain, and so risk
breaking the grinder. A quotation which Looney had learnt from a book
read at Yozgad proved very apposite on these occasions. It was from a
label pasted on to a French toy, and ran as follows: "Quoi qu'elle soit
solidement montée, il ne faut pas brutaliser la machine!"
When enough flour was ready, some one would knead it into a lump
of dough, which would then be divided up by the cook and flattened
into little discs. These were baked several at a time on the metal
cover of our dixie. When enough chupatties were ready, the cook would
pick them up one by one, while some one else, not in sight of them,
called out the names of the party at random. This was to get over the
difficulty caused by the chupatties not being all of quite the same
size. Similarly, after each brew of porridge had been distributed into
the mugs by spoonfuls, we determined who was to have the scrapings of
the pot by the method of "fingers-out." It was necessary to scrape the
dixie each time to prevent the muddy paste which stuck to the bottom
becoming burnt during the next brew; and the way to get this done
thoroughly was to let some one have it to eat.
On the 4th September, Nobby discovered a shorter way up to the well,
by first going a little down instead of up the ravine we were in. From
that date onwards, except for one night when it was necessary to be
on the spot in case of eventualities, Looney and Perce, and on one
occasion Johnny, went up at dusk to sleep near the well. Although the
mosquitoes were almost as troublesome there, they found that the air
was quite invigorating--a great contrast to that in the ravine, where
no refreshing breeze ever found its way.
By this time hardly one of us had any footgear left worthy of the
name, so we soaked an old _mashak_ (skin water-bag) and a piece of
raw hide, both of which had been brought down from the village on
the second visit, with a view to using them for patch repairs. Both,
however, proved too rotten to be of use, for they would not hold the
stitches.
We had been a week in the ravine before any of us felt capable of
farther exploration. To save time in getting to work again, on the
last two evenings Cochrane and Nobby had had a little extra ration
of porridge. Now at length, on the 6th September, they felt that it
was within their powers to make another reconnaissance. Nothing more
had been seen of the motor-boat, but the bay in which had been its
anchorage on our first night on the coast seemed to offer the best
prospect of finding a boat of some sort. Accordingly at 5 P.M.
the pair set off once again down the ravine, hoping to arrive near the
end of it before dark. And so began another anxious time for all, as we
wondered what the final night of our first month of freedom would bring
forth. It had not been easy to keep a correct tally of the date during
the march to the coast. More than once there had been no opportunity of
writing a diary for three days at a time; whilst on the coast one day
was so much like another that to lose count of a day would have been
easy. One of us, however, had kept a complete diary, and so we knew
that we had now been at large for a month.
To celebrate this we had decided, if all went well that night, to
have something very good to eat on the morrow. Every one voted for
a plum-duff. Johnny had cooked a date-duff one evening during the
siege of Kut, when his Indian _khansama_ (cook) found the shell-fire
too trying for his nerves. To Johnny then was given the post of
_chef_. During the day each of the party did an extra fatigue on the
coffee-grinder, with the result that by dusk we were able to set aside
about two pounds of flour for the pudding. Its other ingredients were a
couple of small handfuls of raisins and a pinch of salt. When Cochrane
and Nobby departed operations commenced. The ingredients were mixed;
the dough was kneaded on a flat rock and the resulting mass divided
into two, for our little dixie was incapable of holding all at once.
Each pudding was then rolled into a ball, tied up in a handkerchief,
and boiled for two and a half hours. Thus it was close upon midnight
before our dainties were ready for the morrow. The stillness of the
nights in the ravine had often been broken by the melancholy chorus of
a pack of jackals, usually far away but sometimes close at hand. We
decided to take no risks of loosing our duffs, and so slung them in the
branches of a tree.
Meanwhile Cochrane and Nobby proceeded on their reconnaissance. We had
made plans before they started in case of certain eventualities. One
was that if the two were recaptured they should lead the Turks to the
rest of the party; it was realised that otherwise they might be very
hard put to it to prove that they were escaped prisoners of war and
not spies. A more cheerful eventuality was the possibility that the
motor-boat might have returned unobserved. In that case if a favourable
opportunity of capturing it occurred, Cochrane and Nobby were to seize
the vessel, make their way to Cyprus, and send back help for the rest
four nights later. The rendezvous from which they would be fetched was
to be on the headland opposite the little island on which stood the
ruined castle. We eventually learnt that at the proposed rendezvous was
stationed a battery of guns, so that it was well for us that this plan
had never to be executed.
Our two scouts had many exciting moments in their reconnaissance that
night. They went to within a few hundred yards of the mouth of the
ravine, and then, turning to the right, made their way up to higher
ground by a side ravine. They climbed hurriedly, for the light was
rapidly failing. From the top it was still impossible to overlook the
bay which they wanted. They were moving along parallel to the sea when
suddenly they heard voices. They could pick out four figures a little
more than a hundred yards away, silhouetted against the sea on their
left. These were Turks; they seemed to be looking out to sea, and after
a minute or two squatted down on what appeared to be the flat roof of
a house. At this juncture Cochrane swallowed a mosquito. Nobby says
that to see him trying not to choke or cough would have been laughable
at any less anxious time.
After this episode the two moved off with extra carefulness. It was
now quite dark. They had not gone much farther when they again heard
voices. This time the voices were quite close and coming towards them.
Our pair took cover and waited: happily, at the last moment the owners
of the voices turned off.
In view of the number of people who seemed to be about it was no good
increasing the risk of detection by having two persons on the move; so,
soon after, Cochrane left Nobby in a good place of concealment, and
went on scouting around by himself.
Half an hour later he came back. He had been able to overlook the cove,
and there were two boats there. It was too dark, however, to see of
what sort they were, and as there was a shed with a sentry on duty
close to the boats, the only thing to do was to wait for daylight. The
two now slept and took watch in turn. At the first sign of dawn they
moved down to a rock, commanding a good view of the creek. One of the
boats appeared to be a ship's cutter, some twenty-eight feet long, the
other perhaps twenty feet in length. Having seen all they could hope
for, they lost no time in moving off, as it was now quite obvious that
the house on which they had seen the four men on the previous evening
was a look-out post; and it was now becoming dangerously light.
Instead of returning directly to the ravine, however, they made their
way some distance down the coast to the S.W. They were able to see
Selefké, and to recognise through the glasses a dhow in the river
there, but it was some way inland. It was 11 A.M. before the
reconnoitring party again reached the ravine. The news they brought
gave us something definite to work for, and we decided that if we could
finish our preparations in time we would make an attempt to seize
one of the boats two nights later. That would be on the night of the
8th-9th September. But there was much to be done before then. Masts and
spars, paddles and sails, and four days' supply of food for the sea
journey had to be made ready. For the paddle heads Cochrane and Nobby
had brought back some flat thin pieces of board which they had found
near a broken-down hut; and also a bit of ancient baked pottery which
would serve as a whetstone for our very blunt knives and the adze.
On the strength of the good news and to fortify ourselves for the work,
we decided to wait no longer for our feast. The duffs were unslung
from the tree, and each divided with as much accuracy as possible
into eight pieces: in this way we should each have a slice from either
pudding in case they varied in quantity or quality. Both were superb,
and the finest duffs ever made. We commented on their amazing sweetness
and excellent consistency. In reality a raisin was only to be found
here and there, and the puddings were not cooked right through. When we
had finished, Old Man asserted that he could then and there and with
ease demolish six whole duffs by himself. This started an argument.
"What!" cried one; "eat forty-eight pieces like the two you have just
had. Impossible!"
"Granted; twenty pieces would go down easily enough," said another,
"and the next ten with a fair appetite. But after that it wouldn't
be so easy. You might manage another ten, but the last eight would
certainly defeat you."
Old Man, however, stuck to his assertion and refused to come down by so
much as a single slice. As it was impossible without the duffs under
discussion to prove him right or merely greedy, the subject was allowed
to drop.
By this date Perce was the only one of the party who still had some
tobacco, English 'baccy too, for he smoked very little. To celebrate
the discovery of the boats, he now broke into his reserve. A single
cigarette was rolled and handed round from one to another of us. It
only needed a couple of inhaled puffs to make each of us feel as if we
were going off under an anæsthetic. After the two or three puffs one
thought it would be nice to sit down, and in a few seconds one felt it
would be pleasanter still to lie down full length. That is what we did.
The effect only lasted a minute or two, but it showed in what a weak
condition we were.
On the evening trip to the nearer well it was found quite impossible
to draw up any more water from it. It had been gradually drying up,
and now the two on water fatigue could not scoop up even a spoonful of
water when they let down a mug, so they had to go on to the well near
the tower. This, too, was going dry, but still contained a little pool
of very muddy water.
Shortly after four o'clock that afternoon Looney and Perce had started
off on the third visit which was paid to the deserted village. They
were armed with a long list of requisites: more cloth for sails; a big
dixie for cooking large quantities of the reserve porridge at a time;
some more grain; nails and any wood likely to be of use; cotton-wool
for padding our feet when we went down to the shore; and many other
things. They returned next morning at 9 A.M. with all the
important articles, together with some hoop-iron and a few small poles.
The latter were the very thing for the paddle-shafts. They also
brought down some raw coffee-beans which they had found in a little
leather bag; these we roasted and ground next day, and enjoyed the two
finest drinks of coffee we remember having had in our lives.
Meanwhile we had started cooking our food for the sea voyage. It was to
consist of small chupatties and porridge, but the latter would not be
cooked until the latest possible date for fear of its going bad. Forty
reserve chupatties had been set aside before we retired to rest on
the night after the feast-day. From that day onwards till we left the
ravine the coffee-grinder was worked unceasingly from 5 A.M.
till 7 or 8 P.M. There was no question of a six hours' day
for us; for while we ground flour and porridge for the reserve, we had
still to provide our own meals for the day. We realised then, if never
before, the truth of the saying, "In the sweat of thy face shalt thou
eat bread."
Little of the 8th September had passed before we realised that it was
hopeless to think of being ready by the following night. We therefore
postponed the attempt, and settled down to our preparations in more
deadly earnest. Cochrane decided on the size and shape of the sails,
which were to be three in number. The rolls of cloth obtained from the
village were about fourteen inches in width, and the biggest of the
three sails was made with seven strips of the cloth. It was a good
thing that we had still two big reels nearly untouched of the thread
with which we had started from Yozgad.
When the strips had been sewn together, the edges of the sail were
hemmed. Later, pieces of canvas from Ellis's pack, which was cut up
for the purpose, were added at the corners for the sake of additional
strength. No one had a moment to spare. Those who were not sail-making
were doing something else,--either at the mill, at work on the paddles,
cutting branches off trees for the spars, fetching water, or cooking.
September 9th was similarly spent, but again on this day it soon
became obvious that we should not be ready by nightfall. By the time
we retired to our sleeping-places, however, our preparations were well
advanced. Two of the sails were finished, the spars were cut, some of
the paddles were completed, and the larger part of the chupatties and
porridge cooked. The porridge was put into one of our packs. It was not
a very clean receptacle, but being fairly waterproof would, we hoped,
help to keep the porridge moist; for our chief fear with regard to the
coming sea voyage was shortage of water.
On the 10th we worked continuously from daylight till 3.30
P.M., by which time our preparations were complete. Before
moving off we hid away all non-essentials, so as to reduce our loads.
With the big cooking-pot half-full of water, and the spars, sails,
and paddles, these were going to be both heavy and cumbersome. We
also buried our fezes and the copies of the map, lest, if we were
recaptured, they should encourage the Turks to think that we were
spies. For the same reason, any allusions to what we had seen on the
coast, and to our visits to the deserted village, were carefully erased
from diaries. These precautions completed, we carried our unwieldy
loads down the ravine to a point opposite the shorter path to the
wells. Here we left our impedimenta, and taking only water-bottles,
chargals, and the big cooking-pot, which had a cover and swing-handle,
climbed up to the well near the tower and filled up. The water supply
was almost exhausted, and it took an hour and a half to fill our
receptacles and have a drink. It was impossible to practise the camel's
plan, and drink more than we really needed at the time. It required a
tremendous effort to force oneself to drink a mugful of these muddy
dregs.
While the rest were filling the water-bottles, &c., Old Man and Nobby
went off to a suitable point for a final look at part of our proposed
route to the shore. Then all returned to the kits in the ravine. We
had decided that we would move down to the beach in stockinged feet,
so as to make as little noise as possible. For most of us this was
not only a precaution, but a necessity, since our party of eight now
only possessed three pairs of wearable boots between us. We accordingly
padded our feet as best we could, and proceeded once more towards the
sea.
The going was so difficult that we had several times to help one
another over the enormous boulders which filled the bottom of the
ravine, and down precipitous places where there had once been small
waterfalls.
At 7 P.M. we were not far from the mouth of the ravine. Here,
then, the party halted, while Nobby, who had been there on two previous
occasions, scouted ahead. When he returned, reporting that all seemed
to be clear, we crept on out of the ravine. It was now night. Walking
very carefully, testing each footstep for fear of treading on a twig or
loose stone and so making a noise, we came to a wall. This we crossed
at a low place where it had been partially broken down, and a hundred
yards beyond found ourselves approaching a line of telegraph poles and
then the coast road. Up and down this we peered in the light of the
young moon, and seeing no one went across. The ground here was level,
but covered with big bushes and a few stunted firs, between which we
made our way to the shore. It was grand to hear the lapping of the
waves and smell the seaweed after nearly four years.
The creek, in which were the two rowing-boats, lay a mile to the west
of us. We had intended to strike the shore where we were, for by
walking to the creek along the edge of the sea the risk of stumbling
against any tents or huts in the dark would be reduced; but it took
us longer to reach our objective than we had expected. It was almost
midnight when, a quarter of a mile from the creek, and near a place
where a boat could be brought conveniently alongside, the party halted.
Leaving the others here, Cochrane and Johnny were to try to seize one
of the two boats marked down four nights previously, and Nobby was to
accompany them in case they needed help.
The shore line, which they now followed, rose rapidly to a steep
cliff forty feet or more above the level of the sea. When within a
hundred yards of the boat which they wanted, they found a way down to
a narrow ledge two feet above the water. The moon had long set, but
they could see the boat as a dark shadow against the water reflecting
the starlight. Here, then, Cochrane and Johnny proceeded to strip. They
continued, however, to wear a couple of pairs of socks in case the
bottom should be covered with sharp spikes, as had been the rocky edge
of the shore for the most part. They tied two pieces of thin rope round
their waists with a clasp-knife attached to each. Thus equipped, they
let themselves down off the ledge, and slipped quietly into the sea.
Fortunately the water was warm; but it was phosphorescent too, so they
had to swim very slowly to avoid making any unnecessary ripple.
As they neared the boat, which now loomed big above them, some one in
the shadow of the cliff a few yards away coughed. Next moment they
heard the butt of a rifle hitting a rock as the sentry (for such he
must have been) shifted his position. Hardly daring to breathe, they
swam to the side of the boat farther from him and held on to it. Here
the water was about six feet deep. After waiting a few minutes to let
any suspicions on the part of the sentry subside, they moved along to
the bow of the boat.
They had hoped to find it anchored by a rope, but to their great
disappointment it was moored with a heavy iron chain. Speaking in very
low whispers, they decided that one should go under the water and lift
the anchor, while the other, with his piece of rope, tied one of the
flukes to a link high up in the chain. When the anchor was thus raised
clear of the bottom, they would swim quietly away, towing the boat.
Accordingly, Cochrane dived and lifted the anchor, while Johnny tied
his rope round a fluke and made it fast to a link as far up the chain
as possible. They then let go.
With what seemed to them a terrific noise, the chain rattled over
the gunwale till the anchor was once more on the bottom. Were they
discovered? Another cough! They did not dare to move. Could the plash
of the water lapping against the sides of the creek have muffled the
sound of the rattling chain? If only the chain had been fixed! But
perhaps a short length only had been loose.
Another attempt was made. This time it was Johnny who lifted the
anchor, while Cochrane tied his rope to it. Unfortunately he had the
rope still round his waist, and when the anchor dropped he was carried
down with it. How lucky that he had his clasp-knife! For though he was
free in a few seconds, he came to the surface spluttering out the water
he had swallowed. It was a near thing that he was not drowned. Where,
meantime, was the anchor? Little did they realise that it was lying
once more on the bottom and laughing at their efforts to carry off the
quarry that night.
Some point of the chain, of course, must be attached to the boat, but
it was risky to continue getting rid of the spare length by the present
method. Besides, there was no more rope with which to tie up the anchor
to the chain. As for getting into the boat and weighing anchor from
there, it would be sheer madness. The sentry would be certain to see
them, naked and wet as they were.
By this time they were both shivering violently with cold, though, as
has been said, the water was quite warm. As a last attempt they tried
to take the boat out to the end of the chain by swimming away with it
farther from the sentry. Again the chain rattled over the gunwale, and
there was nothing for it but to admit defeat.
Slowly they swam back to the ledge where Nobby was awaiting them. He
said they had been away for an hour and twenty minutes, so it was
not surprising that they had felt cold. With numbed fingers they put
on their clothes and climbed gloomily up the cliff. By this time the
walking over sharp rocks had cut their socks and padding to pieces, so
that they were marching almost barefoot, a very painful operation.
On their rejoining the party, the sad tale of failure was told. As the
time was 3 A.M., the only thing to do was to get into the
best cover we could find near the coast and sleep till dawn. About a
hundred yards inland we lay down in some small bushes beneath stunted
pine-trees. There we slept.
Our thirty-fifth morning found us in a state of great depression. There
seemed no chance left of getting out of the country. Lying in our
hiding-places we reviewed the situation in an almost apathetic mood.
We were on the eastern side of a W-shaped bay, a mile wide, and opening
southwards. Its eastern arm was the creek, in which was the boat we had
failed to capture. There was a similar western arm, the two creeks
being separated by a narrow spit of land. From quite early in the
morning motor-lorries could be seen and heard winding their way along
the tortuous road. In several places this closely followed the coast
line, and at one or two was carried on causeways across the sea itself.
We lay on a headland on the seaward side of the Turkish encampment, and
were overlooked by the look-out post on the cliff-side.
At noon a council of war was held. As we were lying dotted about some
distance from one another, for the time being we all crept into an
old shelter made of branches, not many yards from us. There matters
were discussed. Although several schemes were put forward, going back
to the ravine in which we had spent so many wearisome days was not
one of them. To return there would have made us into raving lunatics.
The final decision was to make another attempt that night to seize
the boat; this time there should be four of us in the water. If that
failed, about the most attractive proposal was to go boldly on to the
coast road and by bluff obtain a lift on a motor-lorry, demanding as
Germans to be taken in a westerly direction to the nearest big town,
Selefké: we might get a boat of some sort there. The chief lure of
this scheme was that, should the lorry-driver believe our story, we
should cover a few miles without walking on our flat feet. This was a
fascinating thought indeed, for despite nearly a fortnight on the coast
we had no wish to set out on the tramp again.
Two or three of us, however, thought we might sum up the energy to
march eastwards along the road in the hope of finding a boat in the bay
of Ayasch. But even if we did this there was still the difficulty about
food and drink. Unless we replenished our supply we should have to
undertake a sea voyage of at least a hundred miles with only two days'
rations and perhaps a water-bottle full of water apiece. The consensus
of opinion was thus come to that if we failed again that night we might
as well give ourselves up the next day. We then went back into our old
and safer hiding-places.
At about two o'clock in the afternoon we heard the sound of a far-off
motor. This was no lorry. It came from a different direction. In a few
seconds we were all listening intently.
"It's only another lorry after all!"
"No, it can't be. It's on the sea side of us!"
As the minutes passed, the noise became more and more distinct. Then
our hearts leapt within us, as there came into the bay, towing a
lighter and a dinghy, the motor-tug which we had last seen the day
after we had reached the coast. Skirting the shore not three hundred
yards from where we lay, the boats disappeared into the eastern creek.
Apathy and depression were gone in a second. Excitement and--this we
like to remember--a deep sense of thankfulness for this answer to our
prayers took their place.
The motor-boat was flying at her bows a Turkish and at her stern a
German flag, but most of her crew of seven or eight looked to us like
Greeks. In the lighter were over twenty Turks.
Another council of war took place, but of a very different type from
the last. All were hopeful, and we made our plans in high spirits.
Throughout our discussion, however, ran the assumption that some of the
crew would be on board the motor-boat, and we should have to bribe them
to take us across to Cyprus. It never entered our heads for a moment
that any other scheme would be possible. In fact, when about an hour
before sunset the dinghy with a few of the crew and some water-beakers
on board was rowed across to a point opposite us on the western side
of the bay (where there must have been a spring of fresh water), we
determined to hail them on their return journey.
At one point they came within three hundred yards of us. In answer
to our shouting and whistling, they stopped rowing and looked in our
direction. They must have seen us, but they refused to take any further
notice. Whom did they take us for? And why did they not report our
presence when they went ashore? No one came to search for us; and as
the mountain had not come to Mahomet, Mahomet would have to go to the
mountain. Some one would have to swim out to the boat that night, and
proffer bribes to the crew.
As the dusk of our thirty-sixth night fell, a ration of chupatties and
a couple of handfuls of raisins were issued. A move was then made to
the nearest point on the shore at which there was a suitable place for
a boat to come alongside. There we waited till the moon set at about
8.30. In the meantime we drank what water remained in the big dixie.
This left us with only our water-bottles full.
At this time our best Turkish scholar was feeling very sick. The last
scrapings from the pack containing the porridge had fallen to him, and
as all of it had turned sour during the previous night, Grunt's extra
ration was proving a not unmixed blessing. This was a serious matter,
as we relied on him to negotiate with the motor-boat's crew. However,
at 9 P.M., he and Cochrane, the Old Man and Nobby, set forth
on the last great venture. The others moved all the kit close down to
the edge of the rock where a boat could come in.
An anxious wait ensued. The four had set out at 9 o'clock, but
it was not till 11.30 that Looney, with his last reserve--half a
biscuit--gone, saw a boat coming silently towards him. In a trice the
other three were awakened. Was it friend or foe? She had four men on
board: they were our four. The moment the boat touched at the rock the
kit was thrown in. Cochrane had done magnificent work. He had swum
round the creek, found out that there was no one in the motor-boat,
cut away the dinghy belonging to the lighter, swum back with it, and
fetched the other three.
Eight hopeful fugitives were soon gently paddling the dinghy towards
the creek, keeping, so far as might be, in the shadow of the cliffs;
for though the moon was down, the stars seemed to make the open
bay unpleasantly light. As noiselessly as possible the dinghy came
alongside the motor-boat and made fast. The creek here was about sixty
yards wide. The tug, moored by a heavy chain and anchor, was in the
middle of it. Some fifteen yards away was the lighter; on this were
several men, one of whom was coughing the whole time we were "cutting
out" the motor-boat. This took us a full hour.
On trying the weight of the chain and anchor, Cochrane decided to loose
the motor-boat from her anchorage by dropping the chain overboard. He
did not think it would be possible to weigh the anchor. Odd lengths
of cord were collected and joined up in readiness for lowering the
end of the chain silently when the time came. But success was not to
be attained so easily. Boarding the motor-boat, Nobby and Perce had,
foot by foot, got rid of almost all the chain which lay in the bows,
when another score of fathoms were discovered below deck. It would be
quicker, after all, to weigh anchor, and by superhuman efforts this was
at length achieved without attracting the attention of the enemy, our
coats and shirts being used as padding over the gunwale.
[Illustration:
_From a photograph by Mrs Houstoun taken at Kyrenia, Cyprus._
THE MOTOR BOAT.]
As soon as the anchor was weighed, we connected the motor-boat with
the dinghy by a tow-rope found on the former; all got back into the
dinghy, and in this we paddled quietly away. With our home-made paddles
and heavy tow we were unable to make much headway. With six paddles in
the water, we could credit ourselves with a speed of not so much as a
single knot.
Once clear of the bay, Cochrane again went aboard the motor-boat and
this time had a look at the engine. We had remaining at this time
about an inch of candle, but this served a very useful purpose. By
its glimmer Cochrane was able to discover and light a hurricane-lamp.
He told us the joyous news that there was a fair quantity of paraffin
in the tank. Unfortunately no petrol was to be found, and it seemed
unlikely that we should be able to start the engine from cold on
paraffin alone. So weak indeed were we, that it was all we could do
to turn over the engine at all. While frantic efforts were being made
by Cochrane and Nobby to start her, those in the dinghy continued
paddling. After three hours all were very tired of it, and very
grateful for a slight off-shore breeze which gave us the chance of
setting a sail. Cochrane rigged up our main-sail on the motor-boat; all
then clambered aboard the latter.
Our speed was now quite good and many times that of our most furious
paddling. Suddenly looking back, we saw the dinghy adrift and
disappearing in the darkness behind us. Whoever had been holding the
rope at the dinghy end had omitted to make fast on coming on board the
motor-boat. The dinghy still contained all our kit; so to recover this,
including as it did what food and water remained to us, Cochrane and
Johnny jumped overboard and swam back to it. The sail on the motor-boat
had been furled, and in a few minutes the dinghy was again in tow.
After this slight misadventure the engine-room was once more invaded,
and Looney and Cochrane experimented with the magneto. There was a
loose wire and vacant terminal which they were uncertain whether to
connect or not. Eventually, with Nobby turning over the engine, a shock
was obtained with the two disconnected. Two were now put on to the
starting-handle. But the cramped space produced several bruised heads
and nothing else as pair after pair struggled on.
At length at 4.30 A.M., little more than an hour before dawn,
the engine started up with a roar, in went the clutch, and off went the
motor-boat at a good seven knots. At the time when the engine began
firing, Nobby, who was feeling very much the worse for his exertions in
weighing anchor followed by his efforts to start the motor, was lying
on deck in the stern. Startled by the sudden series of explosions, he
thought for a moment that a machine-gun had opened fire at short range,
till he discovered that he was lying on the exhaust-pipe, the end of
which was led up on deck!