Part 16

Two destroyers came dashing down--a smother of black smoke and white foam--dashing right in among the shell splashes--or so it seemed to the nervous Assistant Clerk--and then began scurrying round and round in circles, seeking something to pounce upon.

But the submarine had dived, and, whatever her skipper's intentions were, she never showed herself again that day.

The _Prince George_ came solemnly back and let go her anchor, like some half-worn-out old watch-dog who had gone barking round to drive off intruders and then returned to his kennel door; whilst the _Swiftsure_ started off to join the destroyers in their search.

But then commenced a most extraordinary exodus of shipping from Cape Helles. Transports and store ships hove up their anchors and started off on their sixty-mile journey to Mudros to seek safety behind the submarine net across the entrance. The _Achates_ received orders to proceed there too, and, you may be sure, was not long getting under way, steaming on a straight course until a signal came from the Admiral, "_Achates_ zigzag". The sea from Cape Helles was one long line of hurrying steamers. Two big "crack" French liners, the _France_ and _La Provence_, the first of which had only arrived that morning, and had not yet begun to disembark the four thousand troops on board, lingered at anchor for nearly an hour. They were such huge ships, and were such tempting submarine targets, that everyone wondered why they delayed. Presently, however, they joined in the race for safety, and catching up the _Achates_, steamed past her as though she had been at anchor.

Was not the China Doll, and many more, too, aboard her, delighted when the _Achates_ slipped through the "gate" in that submarine net!

That night the _Albion_ and _Canopus_, off Anzac, remained under way, for safety. During the night the _Albion_ "took" the ground off Gaba Tepe, and, not being able to get off, was exposed to a very heavy fire at daybreak from howitzers, field-batteries, and also from the 12-inch guns of a Turkish ironclad, somewhere above The Narrows, and firing across the land. Fortunately, this fire was as inaccurate as it was heavy; but the situation was most dangerous and unpleasant until the _Canopus_ came along, in the thick of the shells, laid out some hawsers to her, and at the second attempt towed her clear, with a total loss of only one man killed and nine wounded.

The next two days passed quietly; no submarines were seen or heard of, until on the second morning, at half-past eight, a periscope was suddenly observed passing along between the _Swiftsure_ and _Agamemnon_, at anchor off Cape Helles not six hundred yards from each other. Fire was opened immediately, and down dipped the periscope, to appear again just ahead and on the _Swiftsure's_ starboard bow. The _Swiftsure's_ 14-pounders blazed away, under went the periscope and did not appear again.

It is a mystery why she did not fire a torpedo; presumably she had no time to get into position to make a good shot. A signal sent to the ships off Gaba Tepe and Anzac warned them; but just before half-past twelve the _Triumph_ there was struck by two torpedoes. The news that she had a list brought all the _Swiftsure's_ officers and men on deck. Sure enough, they could see her through telescopes listing heavily, and two destroyers standing by. In twenty minutes the red composition on her bottom showed above the water; she rapidly fell over, remained bottom upwards for some eight minutes, and then disappeared. Fortunately, very few of her crew were lost.

Another exodus of ships followed, and only the poor old _Majestic_ and the _Henri IV_, that quaint old Frenchman--with the Captain who feared neither mine nor torpedo--remained off the Peninsula. Three days' grace the _Majestic_ received, and then she too met her fate, a submarine creeping up, with her periscope just showing, and firing two torpedoes at her through a gap between two small store ships. At 6.45 a.m. on Friday, 28th May, the poor old ship received her death-blows, and seven and a half minutes later capsized. For months her ram just appeared above the water off "W" beach, until the autumn gales made her settle farther down and mercifully hid her from sight.

It is not surprising that the general feeling of uncertainty and uneasiness due to the approach or German submarines should, now that they had arrived, sunk two big ships, and driven the others away, give place to one of foreboding and depression.

The army, which had landed with such proud hopes of opening the gates of The Narrows for the fleet to pass through, had fought itself to a standstill at Helles and Anzac; its supply beaches were constantly under shell-fire, and even the "rest" camps daily gave up their toll of dead and wounded from shells shrapnel or high-explosive.

The big ships could not use the narrow waters with freedom or safety; and if one, two, three, or five submarines, whatever their number was at this time, had already made the long voyage from Germany, ten, fifteen, or twenty might follow; and even if the big ships forced their way to Constantinople, these submarines could make it impossible for them to stay there.

Everyone wondered what would be the next move--what would happen next.

There were two bright patches of cheerful sky between the dark clouds: our own submarines, working with unparalleled daring and skill, passed up and down The Narrows, through the nets laid across to catch them, almost at their ease, and prevented the Turks from using the Sea of Marmora to bring up troops or stores; the Commander-in-Chief himself remained optimistic, in spite of all.

Dr. O'Neill, meeting Captain Macfarlane, who had just returned from the yacht _Triad_, which now flew the Commander-in-Chief's flag, asked him: "How about the Admiral, sir? I suppose he is even more depressed than we are?"

"Not a bit of it," Captain Macfarlane told him. "He is quite cheery; he has a lot 'up his sleeve' yet."

From now onwards, the battleships remained behind the nets at Mudros or Kephalo. From these, every now and again, one or other of them would dash out with escorts of destroyers; an aeroplane would circle overhead to 'spot' for her; and she would bombard the Asiatic guns, Achi Baba, Sari Bair, above Anzac, or the Olive Grove, near Gaba Tepe, where the Turks always had several guns. Having done as much damage as possible, back she would steam, zigzagging all the way into safety.

And from this time all stores, ammunition, and reinforcements were carried across to the Peninsula at night in trawlers, small coasting steamers, and what were termed "fleet sweepers"; these being small steamers, of a thousand to fifteen hundred tons, which had--most of them, at any rate--previous to the war, been employed in the passenger and freight traffic on the cross-Channel, Irish, or Channel Island services.

Splendidly did they carry out their work--very frequently under fire.

*CHAPTER XV*

*A Peaceful Month*

The day after the _Triumph_ had been torpedoed, and two days before the _Majestic_ met the same fate, the _Achates_ left Mudros for the island of Mytilene, zigzagging all the way, because Mytilene lay at the mouth of the Gulf of Smyrna, and Smyrna harboured several submarines which might possibly be in wait for her.

A grand day it was, the sun shining out of an almost cloudless sky, the sea bluer than the sky, and ruffled pleasantly by a gentle breeze. In the evening she passed through a narrow channel between tree-clad heights, and anchored in the land-locked harbour.

For the last month it had not been possible to go on deck without seeing a gun fired or a shell burst. Down below, in cabin, ward-room, or gun-room, you did escape the sight of them--and the sight of those high explosives bursting among men and horses on the beaches can never be forgotten--but you could not escape the sound of them. Each time the air, coming through scuttle, doorway, skylight, or hatchway, thudded against your ears, the shock, big or little, from far or near, made you wince, and made your mind stop momentarily to picture the actual explosion; your ears tingled, alert and braced, to receive the next shock, until the constant, expectant waiting and wincing became a strain which affected many people, even those who were not then exposed to personal danger. It made them irritable or taciturn, or brought about little alterations of character and disposition, not sufficiently definite, perhaps, to state in words, but real enough to notice at the time. In addition, the constant sight of trawlers and boats full of wounded, passing the _Achates_ on their way to hospital ships, had a constant depressing effect, not perhaps fully realized at the moment.

Later, when there came the more imminent personal danger from submarine attack, culminating in the capsizing of two battleships, torpedoed in broad daylight and in full view of thousands, in circumstances which showed how impossible it was, under those conditions of service, to meet submarine attack successfully, the effect of the strain became more pronounced.

Above all, there lacked the success of the expedition, which alone could act as an antidote to the strain.

When, therefore, the _Achates_ wound her way through the tortuous channel into Ieros harbour, her yards almost touching the thick brushwood which clothed the cliffs, and these cliffs, shutting out all sight of the sea, opened out to give a view of an inland lake surrounded by olive-clad hills fading away in the distance, and glowing at the warm touch of the evening sun, their many-tinted green slopes reflected in its placid waters; of villages, quiet little peaceful villages, with the peasants clustering along the water's edge as the ship floated past, or white-sailed boats crowded with smiling, gaily-welcoming Greek men and women, it seemed as though a magician's wand had suddenly guided and wafted her into some fairy harbour, where war and the brutalities of bloodshed could never have been known and would never dare to intrude.

Officers and men stood, drinking in, in their various ways, the beauty, the peace, and the overwhelming quietness of it all.

"Old 'Gallipoli Bill' will drop one among those people in a moment; they're exposing themselves terribly," the Hun grinned.

"They've got 'dug-outs' all handy, somewhere close by; you bet they have!" Rawlins said.

"I wonder how our three chaps are getting on at 'W' beach;" said the Sub, smacking the open-mouthed and staring China Doll on his back, so that his doll's eyes nearly fell out. "My jumping Jimmy, what a place! My blessed stars! What a bathe we'll have when we've dropped the 'killick'. I'll ask the Commander," and stalked away to find him, banging every member of the Honourable Mess he met with his fist, with shouts of "My jumping Jupiter, what a place!" The Pimple pointed out to the China Doll one of the boats they passed. Half full of oranges and bananas it was; and their mouths watered and their eyes brightened as they thought of the feast they would have if it came alongside and the ward-room messman did not buy them all.

The ship slowly turned round another bluff, and a collier with two English submarines lying alongside her came into view.

"They rather spoil the picture," Uncle Podger said, "but we needn't look at 'em."

Then the _Achates_ let go her anchor, the cable rattled noisily, stopped, and the ship lay still.

A quarter of an hour later, "hands to bathe" was "piped", and in less than ten minutes, at least five hundred officers and men were bobbing in the water alongside, and the air was alive with their cheery shouts. The men dived off the booms, the nettings, out of the gangways, or climbed down her sides; the water for'ard was so thick with black heads and white shoulders, that when another man and yet another, a constant stream of them, dived in, one could not help wondering if there was a clear space for them to dive into, though the others always did manage to "open out" and let the newcomer in without accident.

Aft, some of the Honourable Mess were diving off the top of the accommodation ladder; others, the more cautious ones, preferred to drop off the foot of it. The Hun went off the top, so did Rawlins. Uncle Podger walked sedately down the ladder, turned a back somersault, and bobbed up again, in time to see the Pimple make a show of diving off the top, decide that it was too high, and walk down it. The China Doll, trying to attract attention, wouldn't even dive from the foot of the ladder. "You'll promise not to duck me, won't you?" he squeaked, and lowered himself down, holding on to a rope. The Sub, with his gnarled muscles showing under his bathing dress, and disdaining the twenty-foot dive from the ladder top, climbed to the edge of the after bridge with a water polo ball under his arm, threw it far out from the ship, climbed the rails, balanced himself for a moment, roared out "Look out, you jumping shrimps!" and dived forty feet into the water, cutting it like a knife, and coming to the surface some thirty yards farther away. The more sedate ward-room officers, disrobing in their cabins, heard his stentorian, roaring shouts of, "My jumping Jimmies! What a place!" Presently they too appeared on deck, twisting their towels round the quarter-deck rails before they joined the merry splashing throng; the little Padre had his swimming-belt round his chest, and his everlasting pipe in his mouth. The Hun and Uncle Podger, seeing him come down the ladder, winked at each other, and waited to see what would happen when he jumped into the water; but were disappointed, for he lowered himself carefully; the swimming-belt kept his head well above water, and he paddled about, still smoking.

Around and among all these swimmers paddled the Greeks in their quaint, picturesque boats, watching them and smiling with amusement.

The Hun and Rawlins, slightly out of breath, after having disappeared for a few brief moments below the surface of the water in their efforts to decide which had ducked the other, caught hold of the stern of a boat which happened to be near, and drawing themselves half out of the water, grinned happily at a bevy of plump young damsels sitting there. The girls, laughing merrily, gave them each an orange; whereupon they slipped back into the water and proceeded to eat them. But the sight of these two lying placidly on their backs and devouring their oranges was too much for the others. Uncle Podger with his trudgeon stroke reached the unsuspecting Rawlins first, seized his orange, ducked him, and dived, only to come up among the enemy--the Pimple, the Sub, and the outraged Rawlins. The War Baby threw himself into the melee; the Hun, swallowing the rest of his orange, joined in too; and the life of Uncle Podger was only saved by a shower of oranges, and peals of girlish laughter from the boat.

Securing their prizes they shouted, "Thanks, awfully! Merci beaucoup!" hoping that they might understand French; and the War Baby, who knew a few words of Spanish, called out, "Gratia! Senoritas!" hoping they could understand that. But language did not matter; they knew what was meant to be expressed, and shrieked with laughter.

The Fleet-Paymaster, puffing along by the side of Dr. Gordon, who looked exactly like a walrus in the water, grunted out: "We're too old, I suppose, for 'em to chuck oranges at us? Let's try!"

And they did; and each got his orange, and his shriek of laughter when he tried to eat it without spoiling the taste with sea water.

All this time the China Doll, who could only swim a few strokes, did not venture far from the foot of the ladder, very miserable that everybody seemed to have forgotten him, and knowing that if he did venture out among the others he would certainly be ducked--which he hated--and very probably drowned.

Up on deck, Captain Macfarlane, grimly looking on, met the Gunnery-Lieutenant coming up from performing his trick of tossing a hoop off the top of the ladder, and then diving through it as it lay on the surface of the water--he had done this about ten times already, as if he were carrying out some drill or religious exercise.

"Mr. Gunnery-Lieutenant," Captain Macfarlane said, tugging thoughtfully at his beard; "the Great War is still on, is it not?" and the startled Gunnery-Lieutenant, the hoop in one hand, the other raised to his dripping hair in wild salute, replied: "Oh! Yes, sir! As far as I know, sir!" and, later on, gave it as his opinion that "the Skipper must be going off his head".

Presently the bugle sounded the "retire", and everyone splashed back to the ship, the members of the Honourable Mess going down to the half-deck, chattering like magpies round the Pink Rat's cot whilst they rubbed themselves down and dressed.

"I never got an orange. I do think you chaps might have brought me one," the China Doll squeaked, a little upset because no one had taken any notice of him; so they chased him round the half-deck with their wet towels, till he shrieked for mercy and was happy again.

Then they rushed up on deck, because the Hun and Bubbles meant to ask those girls on board to show them the holes made by the Smyrna shells, as some little "return" for the oranges.

The others had "dared" them to do this; and they would have asked them, but were too late--their boat had paddled back to the village.

What a dinner they had that night!

The miserable little messman, for once, had risen to the occasion, and bought potatoes, cabbages, lettuce, and onions, and fruit--oranges and bananas--which of course were "extras".

"I'm jolly sorry that the other three aren't here," Uncle Podger remarked, as he skinned his fourth orange. "Wouldn't old Bubbles have loved them? Wouldn't he have been pretty to watch?"

On these occasions, when "extras" had been provided, a comic scene always followed in the pantry. In order that the messman could know who devoured his precious "extras", and could put the names down in his book, he had to keep a very smart "look-out" through the sliding doors in the pantry bulkhead; and Barnes, who hated him like poison, would block one and then the other with his huge head and shoulders, so that he should not see which of the "young gen'l'men" had taken an orange or banana. As Uncle Podger always said on such occasions: "It was pretty to watch him and Barnes dodging each other backwards and forwards, from side to side."

Barnes would slide across one of the trap-doors, then block up the other; across would dart the little messman, slide back the one which had just been closed, and peep through it. Bang would go the other, and Barnes would be seen pushing the messman aside, muttering "'Ere you; you're getting in the way, you are", reaching through, and making pretence of drawing back any dirty plates or dishes which stood on the sideboard. And so this game went on; whilst the Pimple and the China Doll, keeping their eyes about them, would seize fruit at the most favourable moment, drop the skins on someone else's plate if possible, and if not, throw them far under the table.

Barnes, afterwards, when he cleared the table and swept up the deck, would do it to a muttered accompaniment of: "That nawsty little beggar, a-countin' up and a-puttin' down everythink of 'is beastly hextras. 'Umph!" (bang would go the broom against a leg of the table). "And who eats 'em? 'Umph! the nawsty, slimy toad. I'll learn 'im, me as what 'as a pub of 'is own at 'ome--or 'ad, afore this 'ere war a-started."

The days which followed were days of real delight, never to be forgotten by the Honourable Mess, who revelled in them and in the noiseless, peaceful nights when they slept on the quarter-deck, and woke to slip off their pyjamas and plunge over the side into the transparent water.

In a week's time, very early one morning, up the harbour came the grey picket-boat with the Orphan; behind her followed Trawler No. 370 with Bubbles, the Lamp-post, and all that was left of their beach party.

"Come along, you chaps!" called Uncle Podger, waving his towel, when at last they came aboard. "My! but you do look scarecrows! Off with your grubby clothes and flop in. It's simply splendid!" They did flop in; and that morning's bathe, when the Honourable Mess was once more united, was a memorable one, especially to the "War Baby"--the officer of the watch--who could not make them come out of the water until long after the regulation time, and until the Commander had twice sent for him to know why he didn't stop that confounded noise round the foot of the ladder.

They arranged a grand picnic next day, and hired two of the little Greek sailing-boats which ferried people across from one side of the harbour to the other. They bought a basketful of oranges from the Greek boats alongside--it was cheaper to do this than to get them through the messman--they took a kettle of water, tins of jam, milk, and butter, loaves of bread; and away they went, with a merry breeze, the whole crowd of them, the Sub, Uncle Podger, the Orphan, Rawlins, and Bubbles in one, the Lamp-post and the remainder in the other. They raced the two boats to a tiny island at the mouth of the entrance of the harbour, beached them without rubbing off much paint, stripped, and larked in the water and out of it, on the grass under some trees.

Then the China Doll and the Pimple were appointed "cooks of the mess", and wandered off to collect driftwood to make a fire on the beach, whilst the others stretched themselves on the grass to dry themselves until they were too hot, then plunged in again till they were cool. By the time the fire had begun to crackle famously the Sub, Uncle Podger, and two of the snotties--the Lamp-post and Bubbles, who were over eighteen years old--had found their pipes, lighted them, and were puffing away luxuriously. The Sub, whose heart warmed benevolently within him, called out: "Carry on smoking, my bouncing beauties--every mother's son of you--so long as you aren't sick!" So off dashed the others to their clothes, and produced the well-worn pipes which they had brought with them, hoping that the Sub would be in a good temper. Even the China Doll produced a cigarette case, and made a great fuss of lighting a "Virginian", puffing at it like a girl, then holding it in his fingers because the smoke made his eyes water. "No 'stinkers'! No 'gaspers' here! Phew. What a horrible smell!" the others shouted. The Orphan pretended to faint, Bubbles threw himself down in the grass and groaned.

"I haven't any 'Gyppies'," pleaded the Assistant Clerk. "You smoke 'stinkers' yourselves sometimes.

"Only on board, China Doll, to drown the smell of the gun-room, when you're in it," Bubbles gurgled. "Get to leeward, you little stink-pot!" The Pimple and Rawlins made a rush for him; he dodged them, and waded into the water.

"Come back!" they shouted as they followed him. "We're getting wet; we can't swim a stroke," and drove him out until only his head and neck were above the water. They made him smoke it there, throwing clods of earth at him whenever he attempted to take it out of his mouth to prevent his eyes watering.

"Nice, quiet, gentlemanly lads," said Uncle Podger from the grass. "Very pretty to watch, aren't they?"

But the Pimple--earnestly occupied in keeping the China Doll and the "overpowering" smell of his tiny cigarette from destroying the aroma from nine fairly foul pipes loaded with "ship's" tobacco--and the China Doll thus engaged, with only his head above water, were neglecting their duty as cooks to the Honourable Mess. The kettle was trying to lift off its lid, and threatened to fall over.

It was saved just in time, and the Pimple, violently seized by the Hun and Rawlins, escorted back to his duties, whilst the China Doll waded out with his cigarette damped and "dead".