Part 19

"Phew! I didn't like that," the Sub said, as the black mud dripped off his clothes. He put the engines "easy ahead", and the two Greeks pointed towards the toll-house, whining "Turko, Turko," and looking frightened. The picket-boat now headed almost straight for the toll-house, some three hundred yards away; and just as the Orphan caught sight of someone moving close to it, crack went a rifle, and "ping" came a bullet overhead.

"Phew! we're discovered; we must chance it now; full speed ahead! We must hurry if there's to be a chance of surprising that patrol-boat. Confound those Greeks; they're pointing to the other bank, again," the Sub said.

The picket-boat increased speed; one or two more bullets came whizzing past--one hit the new plates round the stern-sheets. Plunky Bill swung his maxim towards the toll-house, but could see nothing to fire at. The two Greeks squirmed on the deck, their faces pressed against it, and their hands pointing away from the toll-house. The head of the creek opened out; the little white village of Ajano came into view, with some sailing craft anchored close inshore, but never a sign of any patrol-boat. Another minute, and they saw that the mud-bank on which they had run ashore was part of an island, and that, some eighty yards farther on, a narrow channel ran between the mainland and the end of it.

"Port your helm!" the Sub cried, "we're getting too close; these Greeks are terrified; we'll be ashore again in a minute;" and hardly had he said this, before the picket-boat pushed into something soft, her bows came up out of the water, her stern swung round, in towards the bank, not forty yards away, and she came to a dead stop.

"Full speed astern!" the Sub yelled; and full speed astern went the engines, her stern shook, and the black mud, churned up from the bottom, swirled for'ard. But not a movement did she make.

"She's right in it, sir," Jarvis, rushing aft, told the Sub; "there's not a foot of water for'ard."

The Sub jumped overboard abreast the wheel.

There was not two feet of water there, and he walked round her bows, pulling his feet out of the sticky mud. He could walk all round her except at the stern. That last swerve she had made had turned the stern right in to the shore, and the dark back of another mud-bank showed not six yards away, just under the surface of the water. He knew, perfectly well, that she would never get off without assistance.

Bullets kept flicking past--Zip! Zip! Ping! Ping! Some struck the water quite close to the boat; another smacked against those new plates round the stern-sheets. Someone was certain to be hit in a moment or two; and the first was the Hired Assassin, who got a bullet through his left arm, and scrambled aft, behind the plates, bleeding like a pig and whimpering with fright.

The engines were still going astern, but quite uselessly. Everybody had to scramble out; most of them did so on the protected side, the side away from the toll-house. "Some of you come this side," the Sub shouted angrily; and the Orphan, Jarvis, and Plunky Bill followed him round. "Now shove her astern! One! two! three! Altogether--one! two! three! Heave!"

They tried a dozen times, but not an inch did she move. It was terrible. Some bullets now began coming from the side opposite to the toll-house, from beyond that gap of water which separated the island on which they were aground from the mainland. They could see some men creeping among some low, scrubby bushes there, and some puffs of rifle smoke. Plunky Bill was ordered to turn the maxim on to them, so climbed on board, swung the gun round, and let "rip" some fifty rounds. Those kept them quiet for a few minutes.

"If Mr. M'Andrew came in, he could tow us on," the Orphan suggested; but the Sub, although he felt sure that it was helpless to think of getting off without assistance, would not signal to ask for it, not yet. He tried making the engines go full speed ahead and then full speed astern, the men all pushing and shoving at the same time. Then they all climbed on board, crowded as far aft as they could, and tried jumping, up and down, in time, whilst the engines went full speed astern. But you might as well have expected to move a house. The picket-boat showed not the slightest sign of coming off.

All this time some ten or twelve rifles were being constantly fired at them from different points in the direction of the toll-house, only about two hundred and fifty or three hundred yards away. Some of these rifles were evidently mausers--they recognized their sharp crack; but several were old-fashioned ones which gave a duller noise when they fired, and their bullets, coming almost simultaneously with the report, made a bigger splash when they hit the water. Also, every now and then, little white wisps of powder smoke drifted up from behind some of those bushes. Those wisps were practically the only "targets" Plunky Bill had to fire at, but occasionally he caught sight of something creeping about among the bushes.

The shooting of these Turks was, of course, execrable; otherwise everyone in the picket-boat must have been killed.

Soon some of those rifle "cracks" began to sound appreciably nearer.

"The Turks have come down to the bank, near the toll-house," the Orphan gasped out. "I think they're trying to creep along the bank towards us."

The Sub, wading round the bows, climbed on board and told Bostock to signal to the _Kennet_, "Have run aground, send motor-boat"; and whilst Bostock, jumping on the top of the cabin, where he was entirely exposed, wagged his semaphore flags, Plunky Bill searched the opposite bank with his maxim.

"Scramble aboard, all of you!" the Sub shouted to those still over the side. "Get down behind the shields. Four of you, fire your rifles at the bank near that white house, and two at those Turks beyond the island."

They scrambled behind the cover of the plates, picked up their rifles, and tried to find something to aim at.

Bostock now took in the reply to that signal: "Am sending in motor-boat". The Sub, looking out to sea, saw that the destroyer was about twelve hundred yards away, and that the motor-yacht was at that time alongside her.

"Mr. M'Andrew will be here in a few minutes; we'll get off all right then," he said confidently.

There was a yell from Plunky Bill, crouched behind the maxim-gun shield looking for a target. He put his hand to his face, and found it covered with blood. He cursed horribly, swung round the maxim towards the scrub bushes beyond the island, and let off a dozen rounds "into the brown". Splashes kept jumping up out of the water on both sides; the cracks of the rifles and the "ping" "flop" as the bullets struck the side of the boat or the water, or whipped overhead, being almost simultaneous. Within the protecting shields round the stern, people were practically safe. Everyone was there now except Plunky Bill, Fletcher in the stokehold, and the man in the engine-room. Theoretically, these last two were not safe at such short range, though, actually, no bullets did penetrate the sides of the picket-boat--none that were noticed.

"That motor-yacht has not shoved off yet," the Sub cried, looking over the edge of the plates. "I wonder what has happened. Motors have broken down, I expect. Phew! that's rotten; we'll never get off without her."

Jarvis, much excited, shouted: "A lot more men have come along to that white house, sir; they are coming this way, but I can't see them now."

"Ask the _Kennet_ to open fire on the white house, and to search the banks near it," the Sub told Bostock, who jumped on top of the cabin again, and, though bullets were "zipping" past every few moments, made the signal quite unconcernedly, then slowly climbed down into safety under cover of the steel plates, grinning as he spread out one of the flags and showed a bullet-hole in it.

A minute later the destroyer's for'ard 12-pounder fired, and a shell burst just in front of the toll-house. Others came in quick succession, searching the banks between it and the picket-boat.

Rifle-fire died down at once; one or two men could be seen crawling away. A seaman down aft fired his rifle, and swore that he had hit one of them; the others fired whenever they saw a chance, and so did Plunky Bill with his maxim.

The motor-boat had not yet cast off from the destroyer.

There was a shout from Plunky Bill, and they saw a ferry-boat crowded with men start across the creek from the toll-house side. Two of the bluejackets fired at this boat, and the maxim was turned on it; but before there was time to steady it the men in the ferry had scrambled out, and were hidden among those thick bushes there.

"They'll be trying to wade across that gap to the island presently," Jarvis growled. "If they do get across, they'll be able to crawl up to within fifty yards of the boat without us being able to touch them. Bad show this, sir!"

"Curse that motor-boat!" the Sub growled. "Why doesn't she come along?"

Then came a warning shout from for'ard; and the Orphan, looking over the edge of the shield in front of the wheel, saw that some twenty or thirty men with rifles were commencing to wade across the gap to the island. At the same moment Plunky Bill fell on his face. Without thinking, the Orphan dashed out of his cover and ran to him; but before he reached him he had risen to his knees, and was endeavouring to swing his maxim round to fire on them.

He was streaming with blood, both from a wound in his cheek and from another through the right shoulder.

"I can't hold it, sir; you take it."

The Orphan's hands trembled, and his head felt as though it were bursting; but he gripped the handles, looked along the sights, and somehow or other got them in line with the cluster of men who had begun to wade across the gap, and pressed the firing-button with all his might. Plunky Bill, with one hand, "fed" the cartridge-belt.

The Orphan did not feel the recoil nor notice the jar on his wrists. He saw the splashes his bullets were making, swung the muzzle of the gun a little to the left, depressed the handles ever so little, until these splashes flew up right among the Turks. His shaking hands made the bullets spread from side to side.

Six or seven of the men disappeared under the water; most of the others began hurrying back to the cover of those "scrubby" bushes, but two, three, five pressed on, and in twenty more paces would have gained the cover of the end of the island. Once there, they would crawl along till they could fire right into the picket-boat at point-blank range.

The Orphan gave a yell; something had hit his left foot, and the pain shot up his leg; but he held on to those handles, swung the maxim back, and pressed the button.

"A little more to the left, sir," came from Plunky Bill. "Quick, sir!"

And how he did manage to do it he never could explain, but those five men all fell; and it was not till Plunky Bill called out "Cease firing, sir!" that he looked, and saw nothing but a shapeless kind of a hat floating on the water.

"Got the whole bag of tricks, sir."

"They're going to try again; they're gathering behind the bushes." The Orphan looked up, and saw the Sub standing behind him. "Steady, sonny; wait a minute; they'll be in sight directly. That blessed motor-boat hasn't started to shove off yet. Ah! there they come! there they are! Now, let her 'rip'!"

"The Orphan noticed the Sub kneel down behind the maxim shield, on the opposite side to Plunky Bill, who was still tending the belt with his left hand. A bullet, then another, smacked against the little shield, and through the sighting slit he saw a line of men creeping towards the ford where those others had attempted to wade across. His left foot pained--horribly.

"Aim low, sonny! aim low! You will see your bullet-splashes." He pressed the firing-button, and the gun spluttered out a dozen rounds, their splashes jumping out of the water below the bank along which the Turks were creeping.

"Now, up a bit! Good! Now you've got into them! Keep as you are!" The Sub was speaking quite quietly as the midshipman held on to the jerking, shaking maxim. "Now, down a bit! That's the ticket! Splendid! Phew! they won't try that again," the Sub said, and yelled aft for another belt.

Old Fletcher, dragging himself up from the stokehold hatch, ran aft, seized a new box which someone held over the edge of the shield in front of the wheel, brought it for'ard, knelt down and opened it. The Sub ordered Plunky Bill to go aft. He staggered back under the protecting plates round the stern-sheets holding up his right arm with his left hand.

All this time the _Kennet's_ shells were bursting along the bank on the toll-house side, and these and the rifle-fire from the seamen in the stern-sheets kept the Turks fairly quiet in that direction. Then Jarvis shouted: "Here comes the _Kennet's_ whaler, sir. She's quite close. The _Kennet's_ making a signal."

Bostock, waving his flags, took it in. "Abandon steamboat--am sending in whaler for you." He shouted this to the Sub.

"I can't, I can't!" the Sub moaned. "Orphan, I can't do it! You look after those chaps; keep your eye on them. My aunt! your left boot's nearly torn off. Keep them from getting across to the island;" and he dashed aft just as the black whaler ran alongside.

A Royal Naval Reserve lieutenant was in charge of her, and called out: "You've got to abandon her. Take everything you can get into the whaler--and come back. It's been pretty warm work coming in here; they've been potting at us all the way."

"Why doesn't that motor-yacht come in? She could tow us off. What's the matter with her?" the Sub asked angrily.

"Her crew won't face it; they refused to come, and the engineer won't start the motors. He's disabled them in some way or other, and we can't make them work. Get your gear in here quickly."

The Sub raved and cursed. He couldn't make up his mind to abandon the boat.

There came a low, sobbing "Oh" from the stern-sheets, and the other Greek fell forward--the Bandit. A bullet had come in through a gap between two of the steel plates, and he had been shot through the body.

"It's the Captain's order," the _Kennet's_ officer cried impatiently. "You'd best hurry up; we can see any number of men coming along from the village. None of us will get away unless you 'get a move on.'"

Sullenly the Sub gave the order to abandon the picket-boat.

Plunky Bill crawled into the whaler; the two Greeks were lowered into her. Everything that could be taken was taken--the box of ball-cartridge, the compass box, the rifles and cutlasses, signal-book, even the first-aid bag.

The Orphan, still for'ard with Fletcher, who was reeving the new maxim belt through the feed-block, saw more men start to wade towards the island. He opened fire on them; but then the Sub and Jarvis came rushing for'ard, told him to "cease fire", and commenced dismounting the maxim, slinging out the belt, lifting the gun and its shield off its pedestal, and carrying it aft between them. The Orphan tried to pick up the empty belt-box, but couldn't stand, and had to crawl aft without it. Fletcher brought along the almost full box, then ran back and jumped down into the stokehold. Everyone except him was already in the whaler. They shouted for him. He did not come, but a black cloud of smoke belched out of the picket-boat's funnel. Bullets were splashing all round them. Those Turks were half across to the island--in another five minutes they would be able to fire right down into the crowded whaler. Another cloud of smoke came from the funnel.

"He must have gone off his head," the Sub cried, and yelled "Fletcher! Fletcher!"

The old man appeared, dragged himself up, and scrambled down into the boat.

"What the devil were you doing? Shove off! Shove off! Give way!"

"I put on a few shovelfuls of coal, sir, and closed down all the valves--thought she might blow herself up presently."

"Shove off! Get hold of your rifles; half of you blaze away at one side, half of you on the other--at anything you see!" yelled the Sub as the very heavily laden whaler pulled away from the poor old picket-boat and made for mid-stream.

The _Kennet_, out beyond the mouth of the creek, still kept up a continuous fire to cover the retreat of the crowded whaler as it pushed along out to her, with the picket-boat's crew blazing away at anything they saw which looked like a man's head. She must have seen the people wading across to the island, for she opened fire on them from another gun, and its shells whistled over the whaler and burst above the bank alongside the abandoned boat.

The Orphan, huddled down at the bottom of the boat between two thwarts, felt sick and faint. His left foot was quite numb. He looked at it. The toe and front part of the sole of his boot was all ripped up and torn, and his sock was dripping with blood. He did not know what had happened. The two Greeks lay under the thwarts--very silent. Fletcher, near him, kept on saying: "If only I'd found 'Kaiser Bill' and brought him along with us, it wouldn't have happened."

Although a few bullets followed them, no one was hit, and in ten minutes they were alongside the destroyer, and the Orphan was being hoisted up the side. They wanted to carry him, but he would not let them; he hobbled on his left heel to the ward-room hatch, and got down it somehow; found a chair, and sat on it. He heard the _Kennet's_ 12-pounder still firing, and guessed what she was firing at--his beloved picket-boat--the poor old lady. She had shared so many adventures with him, and now was being ripped open by the _Kennet's_ shells, even if her own boiler did not burst with the added fuel and the screwed-down valves. It was better than that she should fall "alive" into the hands of the Turks, and the Orphan hoped she understood.

A chief stoker belonging to the _Kennet_ came along presently, cut away his boot, and took it off (how it did pain!), and cut away the sock. He knew how to dress wounds, and did his work well.

"A bullet, sir, right along the top of the boot, then through that toe; broken the bone, I think--it's all 'wobbly'. I've a lot of doctoring to do this morning. That there young Greek chap has a bad smash, my word! but I don't rightly know about the other. Stomachs are rather beyond my 'line'. That there seaman--he'll be all right."

By the time the foot had been dressed, the guns had left off firing, and the _Kennet's_ engines began to make the whole stern rattle. The Sub came down, looking haggard, but trying to be cheerful. "We did our best, sonny; don't bother. It was all my fault. If we hadn't been steaming so fast, we might have got her off. So you've got a bullet through your foot, have you? I thought I saw the sole of the boot all ripped off. When did that happen?"

"Just after Plunky Bill was hit the second time. Just after I'd started firing the maxim."

"So you kept going, did you?" said the Sub. "Good for you, Orphan! If you hadn't, those chaps might have got across, and we should have been 'in the soup' in next to no time. There wasn't a sign of a patrol-boat there," the Sub went on. "The _Kennet's_ skipper, from her bridge, could see every square yard of the creek. You remember how those confounded Greeks kept pointing over to port directly after they began singing out 'Turko', 'Turko'. So long as they kept away from the toll-house, where they had seen them, and gave them a wide berth, they didn't care a 'fish's tail' what happened to the picket-boat--never thought of the channel. That chap you call the Hired Assassin--I expect he came along with that 'cock and bull' yarn just to get us to go in there and smash up the village--a girl had jilted him, or something like that, I expect. Oh, if only that motor-yacht had come in!"

"Have you seen Mr. M'Andrew?" the Orphan asked.

"Yes! He wouldn't speak. He wouldn't look at me. He was fumbling with his watch-chain. He looked as if he'd been blubbing. That Greek engineer found out what was wrong with the motors directly everything was over. Curse the chicken-livered swine!"

"Did they smash her up? The Turks won't be able to use her?" the Orphan asked.

"Yes, old sonny; either her boiler blew up or a shell burst there. She's done for."

The Orphan bit his lip--hard.

There happened to be a spare cabin aboard the _Achates_, and, after Dr. O'Neill had dressed the wounded foot, the Orphan was placed in the bunk there.

"The toe may have to come off, or it mayn't," Dr. O'Neill growled. "It won't be any use to you, whichever happens."

Captain Macfarlane came to see him, looking grave, but smiling at him in his kind, fatherly way. "The Sub tells me you cleared off a lot of Turks with that maxim after you'd been hit."

"I didn't really know I had been, sir."

He tugged at his beard, and then began to talk, as though what he had to say was not pleasant. "I have some news for you. It will be a great disappointment, I fear, to you, but you will understand why I wish you to know this before the others. I may as well tell you that I recommended the Sub and you, in the picket-boat, and the midshipman of the steam pinnace for the Distinguished Service Cross."

"Did you, sir? Really, sir!" The Orphan's heart beat fast. "The old Hun, too, sir?"

"Yes, I did. It was for taking your steamboats in and bringing off the crippled transports' boats, after the Lancashire Fusiliers had landed. The Sub and the Hun, as you call him, have been granted it, but I am very sorry indeed" (the Orphan knew what was coming and caught his breath) "that you have not. The Sub was in charge of your boat at the time, and you were not. You see, that makes a difference, I suppose."

The Orphan, biting his lips, nodded. He could not trust himself to speak.

Captain Macfarlane, putting his hand gently on his shoulder, said: "Now you know how the land lies. I only heard last night, and thought you yourself should give the news to the other two. I hope that will rather soften the blow. Won't it, Mr. Orpen?"

"Right, sir! Thank you very much for telling me first, and for telling me yourself," the Orphan managed to say. "And thank you very much for recommending me. None of us knew anything about it."

"Well, good-bye! Perhaps you'd like to tell the news now; I'll send them along."

So, in a minute or two, the Sub and the Hun arrived.

"Hello! my jumping Orphan! Patched you up, have they, my wounded warrior! The Skipper says you want to see us."

"You both have got the D.S.C. The Captain's just told me. Isn't that grand?"

They didn't believe him for a moment. Then the Sub, roaring like a bull, threw the Hun on the deck and nearly strangled him. "And you? What about you?" he sang out, letting the Hun get up; and seeing by the Orphan's face that he had had no such luck, became quiet.

"Whatever for?" they both asked. "What did they give it to us for?"

"For going in and fetching the boats back from 'W' beach that first time."

"Oh! that!" growled the Sub. "What a rotten shame! You did as much as I, or the Hun, did. That's the rottenest thing I ever heard of. Well, old chap, I'm confoundedly sorry," said the Sub, gripping the Orphan's arm; "confoundedly sorry."

The Orphan, left to himself, felt about as miserable as he could be. Dr. Gordon came in to give him an injection of morphia, just as Barnes came to the cabin carrying a tray with his breakfast.

"Which will you have for breakfast?" Dr. Gordon asked, in his funny way--"a little morphia or some bacon and eggs?"

"I think I'd rather have the bacon and eggs," said the Orphan.

*CHAPTER XVIII*

*Bombarding at Suvla Bay*