FREEDOM.
We reckoned that by this time we were some three miles from the creek,
so we could hope that the roar of the engine would be inaudible to
those on shore. On the other hand, sunrise on the 12th September was a
little before 6 A.M., so that dawn should have found us still
within view from the land. A kindly mist, however, came down and hid us
till we were well out to sea. As soon as it was light enough we tried
to declutch in order to transfer our kit from the dinghy to the tug.
But the clutch was in bad order and would not come out. The alternative
was to haul up the dinghy level with the tug, with the motor still
running, and then to transfer all our goods and chattels on to the
deck. It was a difficult task, but it was done. We then turned the
dinghy adrift. This meant the gain of an additional two knots.
It now seemed as if our troubles really were nearing their end. The
engine was running splendidly, the main tank was full to the brim;
there was enough and to spare of lubricating oil, and in a barrel
lashed to the deck in the stern was found some more paraffin. A beaker
contained sufficient water to give us each a mugful. It was brackish,
but nectar compared to the well-water which we had been drinking for
the last fortnight. We also allowed ourselves some chupatties and a
handful of raisins.
Our principal fear now was of being chased by one of the seaplanes
which we thought to be stationed at Mersina, not many miles away. We
had seen one on two occasions during our stay in the ravine. Time went
on, however, and nothing appeared. Instead of looking behind us for a
seaplane we began to look ahead, hoping to come across one of our own
patrol boats. It says much for the deserted condition of those waters
that during our fortnight on the coast and our voyage of about 120
miles to Cyprus not a single boat was seen save those five that we had
seen in the creek.
Discussing the matter of the discovery of the loss of the motor-boat
and the subsequent action of the crew, we came to the cheerful
conclusion that probably the loss would not be divulged to the
authorities for a considerable period. The rightful crew would know
what to expect as a punishment for their carelessness, and would
either perjure themselves by swearing that the boats had sunk at their
moorings, or thinking discretion even better than perjury, disappear
into the deserted hinterland through which we had marched. Should these
two guesses be wrong, there was yet another course which we thought
possible, though not so probable, for the crew to take. Thinking that
the motor-boat and dinghy had drifted away, they would not mention
their disappearance till a thorough search had been made of all bays
and creeks within a few miles of the locality.
The cherry of this delightful cocktail of fancy was very palatable;
whatever else happened, the occupants of the lighter, agitated to the
extreme and dinghyless, would have to swim ashore, and this thought
amused us greatly.[11]
Now for a few words about the motor-boat. She was named the _Hertha_,
and boasted both a Turkish and a German flag. In addition to her
name she had the Turkish symbol for "2" painted large on either side
of her bows. Broad in the beam for her 38 feet of length, she was
decked in, and down below harboured a 50-h.p. motor. In the bows of
the engine-room we found a couple of Mauser rifles dated 1915, with a
few rounds of small-arm ammunition; some of the latter had the nickel
nose filed off to make them "mushroom" on impact. We also discovered a
Very's pistol, with a box of cartridges; trays of spanners and spare
parts for the motor, and two lifebelts taken from English ships whose
names we have forgotten. On deck, immediately abaft the engine-room
hatchway, was the steering-wheel, while farther astern was the barrel
containing the extra paraffin, a can of lubricating oil, and various
empty canisters.
Till noon the sea was sufficiently rough to be breaking continually
over the bows, and three of the party were feeling the effect of
the roll. To the rest, to be thus rocked in the cradle of the deep,
borne ever nearer to freedom, was a sensation never to be forgotten.
The motor was going splendidly, and we all took turns at the wheel,
steering by the "sun-compass," and, with the exception of Cochrane,
very badly.
By 1.30 P.M. we could recognise the dim outline of the high
mountain-range of Cyprus: on the strength of this we each ate another
two chupatties and a handful of raisins, finishing our meal with a
quarter of a mugful of water.
But we were a trifle premature in our lavishness. Our troubles were
not at an end, for half an hour later the engine began to fail, and,
while Cochrane was below looking for the cause of the trouble, she
petered out. The fault was subsequently traced to the over-heating of
one of the main shaft bearings, the oil feed-pipe to which had been
previously broken, and had vibrated from its place. Having satisfied
himself that no serious damage was done, Cochrane decided to wait half
an hour for the bearing to cool. During this time Old Man and Looney
had a mid-sea bathe to refresh themselves, while Perce and Johnny tried
to boil some water for tea. The fire was made on an iron sheet, on
which some bights of chain were shaped into a cooking place for the big
dixie. The roll of the boat, however, though very much less than in the
morning, proved too great to allow the dixie to remain steady on the
chain, so the idea of tea had to be abandoned. We now had leisure to
observe the sea, and we decided that its colour was the most wonderful
we had ever seen--a clear purple-blue.
When the bearing had cooled, we tried to start the engine again. One
pair followed another on the starting-handle, but all to no purpose.
All four sparking-plugs were examined: the feed-pipe, separator,
and carburetter were taken down. Except for a little water in the
separator, all seemed correct. We refilled the tank with paraffin from
the barrel on deck, but our renewed attempts still met with no success.
Our efforts to turn the crank became more and more feeble, until, by
4.30 P.M., we lay down on deck utterly exhausted.
Just before sunset we decided we would make a final attempt to start
up. Should that be unsuccessful, we would set the sails; but to our
great relief she fired at the second attempt. Our joy was somewhat
tempered by her refusing to run for more than a few minutes at a time.
It was found that this was caused by the feed-pipe from the tank
repeatedly choking, owing, no doubt, to grit in the oil obtained from
the barrel, which, as we had noticed when pouring it in, was very dirty.
After dark, Cochrane did all the steering; while down in the
engine-room were Looney as mechanic, and Old Man and Johnny as
starters. Meantime, Perce sat on deck with his feet through the
hatchway against the clutch-lever below him. By jamming this hard down,
and tapping the clutch with a hammer, it was possible to persuade the
cones to separate when required. For over four hours we spent our
time starting and stopping. Our two best runs lasted for thirty and
thirty-five minutes. Usually a run lasted for five or less. We took
it in turns to tap the feed-pipe with a piece of wood, in the hope of
keeping it from clogging; but it was of little use. Each time the
engines stopped, Looney took down the separator and feed-pipe and blew
through them, getting a mouthful of paraffin for his pains. When all
was ready again, the two starters, though almost dead-beat, managed
somehow to turn the crank.
By 10 P.M. we were becoming desperate. It was only Cochrane's
cheering news that we were within two hours' run of the coast that kept
the engine-room staff going. A run of five minutes meant a mile nearer
home, so we carried on.
An hour later, Cochrane told us all to sit on the starboard side, for
it was on this side that the feed-pipe left the tank. This was sheer
genius on his part. From that very moment the wilful engine behaved
herself, and ran obediently till we meant her to stop. As we neared
the coast, at a distance, perhaps, of three miles from it, Nobby
fired off a Very's light, in case there were any patrol boats in the
neighbourhood; but no answering light appeared. Next day, in Cyprus,
we asked the police if they had seen the light. They had not seen it,
they said, but had heard it. This proves how wonderfully sound travels
over water, for we would not for one second doubt a policeman's story.
But, as is hardly necessary to point out, a Very's signal, like little
children, should be seen and not heard.
Having had only our memories of the bearing and distance to Cyprus
from Rendezvous X to guide us, we had worked out in the ravine that
the bearing on which we had to steer would be S. 50° W. On sighting
the island in the afternoon, we had found that this was too much to
the west; so Cochrane had altered the course to make for the western
end of the high range of mountains visible about due south of us. When
about two miles from the shore we turned eastwards, and moved parallel
to the coast, on the look-out for a good anchorage, if possible near
a village. Finally, about a hundred yards from the shore, we dropped
anchor in a wide bay.
On leaving Yozgad each of the party had possessed a watch, but by this
time only two were in working order, and these were Old Man's and
Johnny's. As the chain rattled over the side, the latter looked at the
time, to find that the hand once more pointed to the witching hour of
midnight. This timepiece served its purpose well, for it was not till
an hour later, when it had ceased to be so essential, that it shared
the fate of most of its comrades and was broken. It was interesting to
find later, on comparing the Old Man's watch with Cyprus time, that
there was only two minutes' difference between them. We had checked
our time occasionally by noticing when one of the "pointers" of the
Great Bear was vertically beneath the Pole Star; the solar time when
this occurred on any night had been worked out before we left Yozgad.
Fairly accurate time-keeping was of importance, for on this depended
the successful use of both the "sun-compass" and the star-charts.
And so we had reached Cyprus, but we were all in too dazed a condition
to realise for the moment what it meant; in fact, it took many days to
do so. On arrival in the bay, Cochrane, with his keen sense of smell,
had declared that there were cows not far off, and at about 3 o'clock
we heard a cock crow. We said we would eat our hats, or words to that
effect, if we did not have that bird for breakfast. There was not a
single light on shore, and we had no idea whereabouts in Cyprus we
had dropped anchor. As the stars disappeared in the coming light of
dawn, we saw the coast more clearly. Then by degrees what we thought
were ruins on the coast, rocks a couple of hundred yards east of us
took form; later these proved to be the still occupied Greek monastery
of Acropedi. Then a house or two near by stood distinct; then trees;
and finally our eyes beheld not a mile away a large village, boasting
churches, mosques, and fine buildings set in trees, and beyond a
mountain-range rising sheer from the very houses.
With the first light came a man to the beach opposite us. We shouted to
him in English, French, and Turkish, but he appeared not to understand.
Soon he was joined by two or three others. Then they started arriving
in tens and twenties, men, women, and children. Mounted gendarmes
galloped down. We shouted ourselves hoarse, but to no purpose. We tried
several times to start up the motor, but we could not turn the handle.
Finally Cochrane jumped overboard in a shirt borrowed for the occasion,
as it was longer and less torn than his own. He must have felt still
rather undressed for the ordeal, as when he reached the water he
shouted for his hat, which was thrown to him. Clothed thus he swam
towards the shore. In two feet of water his courage gave way, and his
modesty made him sit down. So situated he harangued the crowd.
Finally there appeared a gendarme who understood English. He said there
was an English police officer in the village, which was named Lapethos;
so borrowing a pencil and a piece of paper, Cochrane wrote a note to
the Englishman reporting our arrival. He explained to the gendarme that
we wanted to bring the boat ashore, but that we could not start the
engine. When this was understood several men at once stripped and swam
out to the rest of us. Cochrane came back smoking a cigarette, which he
passed round when he got on board. The Cypriotes too brought cigarettes
perched behind their ear like a clerk's pencil, and these we smoked
with great appreciation. The scheme was for us to weigh the anchor,
give the men towing-ropes, and they would then pull the boat inshore.
The men, though small, were well built. As they had started swimming
almost before they could walk, it was no hardship for them to tow our
heavy vessel. Laughing and shouting, they pulled us along until they
thought a rest would be pleasant, then they came on board again. They
shouted now and then in sheer lightness of heart; they were very cheery
fellows. We were not towed straight inshore, but to a small natural
jetty a hundred and fifty yards west of us along the beach.
Here we stepped on British soil, eight thin and weary ragamuffins. We
know our hearts gave thanks to God, though our minds could not grasp
that we were really free.
* * * * *
Our story is nearly at an end, though we have yet to bring our eight
travellers to England. Should our already distressed readers hope
against hope that the two authors will be torpedoed long before
arriving there, we will put an end to any such fond anticipations by
telling them truthfully that we were not. In order, however, to soothe
in a small way their injured feelings, let us divulge the fact that
we, with all but two of the party, spent several days ill in hospital
before we reached home. One nearly died from malignant malaria,
doubtless caused by the bites of the mosquitoes on the Turkish coast.
Having given the reader this sop we will continue. Surrounded by a
large but kindly crowd, we sat down on the rocks above the natural
jetty on which we had landed, and waited for an answer to Cochrane's
note. In the meanwhile a gift arrived from the monastery: a basket
containing bread, cheese, olives, and pomegranates. No larks' tongues,
nor the sunny halves of peaches, have ever been so welcome, and we had
a wonderful meal, finishing with clean sweet water and cigarettes.
About half an hour later an officer, in what looked to us then
extraordinarily smart uniform, came down to see why this crowd had
collected, and on hearing our story conducted us to the village. The
road led through orchards whose trees were heavy with pomegranates
and figs; past vineyards and banana palms, tobacco plants and cotton.
Everywhere we could see the signs of a fertile prosperous land, and
it struck us forcibly how different it all was from the barren tracts
through which we had toiled down to the coast of Asia Minor. No more
vivid testimony could be borne to the contrast between British and
Turkish sovereignty.
The officer with us did not belong to the police, but was on survey
work in the island. We were taken, however, to the barracks of the
Cyprus Mounted Police, and here, seated on chairs on the verandah, we
were given coffee with sugar in it. Everything seemed wonderful. We
could smoke as much as we wanted, and the barracks were scrupulously
clean and tidy. One by one we went into the garden near a whitewashed
well, and were shaved by one of the C.M.P. After a good wash we brushed
our hair for the first time for five weeks. All that time we had had
to be satisfied with a comb. As soon as Lieutenant S---- of the Police
arrived, we were taken upstairs to have breakfast, and right royally
did we feast. The meal ended, we were given the 'Lapethos Echo,' which
contained Haig's and Foch's communiqués of the 9th September. These too
were wonderful, and we were greatly amazed by the change which had come
over the main battle front since we saw the last paper at Yozgad before
we left; then the Germans were, so we were told, about to enter Paris.
After breakfast a hot bath and clean clothes were provided for each
of us, our rags being collected in a corner with a view to their
cremation. A Greek doctor anointed us with disinfectant and bandaged
anything we had in the way of sores or cuts.
At about 3 P.M. two carriages arrived and our triumphal
progress continued. We first paid a final visit to the motor-boat,
collecting our few trophies in the way of rifles and flags. This done,
we were driven to Kyrenia, a coast town eight or nine miles to the east
of us: the police officer and Greek doctor stopping the carriages at
every roadside inn to regale us with Turkish delight and iced water.
At Kyrenia we were expected by the British residents, who accommodated
us for the night and treated us with the truest British hospitality.
Our sensations on finding ourselves once more between sheets in a
spring-bed are more easily imagined than described. Late next morning,
after a bathe in the sea and when many snapshots of the party had been
taken, we were driven off in a motor-lorry, by Captain G---- of the
A.S.C., to Famagusta, the port of Cyprus on the eastern coast. It was
an eighty-mile drive, and what with stopping at Nikosia for lunch and
at Larnaka for tea, we did not reach Famagusta and the mess of the
Royal Scots, who had kindly offered us a home, till 9 P.M.
All the recollections of our four-days' stay in Cyprus are of the
pleasantest description, as were those also of our voyage to Egypt in
two French trawlers. As much cannot be said of the fortnight we spent
in Port Saïd, where we passed the first night sleeping on the sand
in a transit camp and most of the rest in hospital: nor of our ten
days in a troop-train crossing Italy and France. During this time we
learnt--what perhaps we needed to be taught--that we were after all the
least important people in the world. But to tell of these adventures
in detail would be to fill another book. Suffice it to say that we
were sustained by a few comic episodes. On one occasion, in Italy,
we spent five minutes talking Italian, based on slender memories of
school-day Latin, to men in another troop-train, before we discovered
that they were Frenchmen. On another, in France, we remember opening
a conversation in French with our engine-driver, who proved to be an
American.
At length, on the 16th October 1918, five of our party reached England
together, preceded by Cochrane, who had managed to arrange for a seat
in a "Rapide" across Europe, and followed by the Old Man and Nobby, who
had had to remain in hospital in Egypt for another fortnight.
Soon after arrival in England, each of us had the very great honour of
being individually received by His Majesty the King. His kindly welcome
and sympathetic interest in what we had gone through will ever remain a
most happy recollection.
Finally, we arranged a dinner for all our party, the date fixed being
11th November. This, as it turned out, was Armistice Night, and with
that night of happy memories and a glimpse of the eight companions once
again united, we will draw the tale of our adventures to a close.
FOOTNOTE:
[11] The following is an extract from a letter received from
Lieut.-Colonel Keeling since we wrote the above: "At Adana I met the
Turkish Miralai (= Brigadier-General)--Beheddin Bey--who was in command
on the coast. He was fully expecting the party [_i.e._, our party],
and put all the blame on the men in the boat [_i.e._, the lighter] to
which the motor-boat was tied. These men were all Turks, the Germans
being on shore. The loss of the motor-boat was discovered before dawn,
and at dawn a hydroplane was sent out to look for her; but she only
spotted a small boat a few miles out, presumably the boat with which
they had towed the motor-boat to a safe distance before starting the
engine. Beheddin Bey drew me a plan showing exactly how everything had
happened."