Part 20

The Orphan's wound gave a great deal of trouble, and for the next fortnight--a "precious" long fortnight--he remained in his bunk. The Honourable Mess looked after him, and kept up his spirits. Captain Macfarlane occasionally came in and talked to him, sitting with his long thin legs crossed, smoking his inevitable cigarette, and tugging gently at his pointed beard. He told him of the transports pouring reinforcements into Mudros in great numbers; of the old "Edgars" coming East, and of the newly built monitors which had begun to arrive--big ones with 14-inch guns, and practically unsinkable; small ones with a 6-inch or 9.2-inch gun in the bows, and drawing so little water, that a submarine would stand but little chance of torpedoing them. "There is no doubt, Mr. Orpen," he would say in his quiet, humorous manner, "they are only waiting for you to be on your feet again to begin a great advance."

Mr. Meredith, Dr. Gordon, the little Padre, and the cheery Fleet-Paymaster often came to see him; so did Plunky Bill, with his face and shoulder swathed in bandages, extremely proud of himself. "If it wasn't for the Fleet-Surgeon a-saying they'd to be dressed twice a day, and 'im a-poking round and 'urting somethink 'orrid, I wouldn't care a blow--not me!"

Fletcher brought him "Kaiser Bill" to play with. "He brings luck, does that tortoise; if we'd only had him with us last time, things would have been different, sir. Well, well, the picket-boat has gone, poor thing; but I was getting too old for her. My eyes aren't what they were; for the last month I could hardly read the gauge-glass in her stokehold--not even with my spectacles."

He liked to talk to the Orphan about his sons who had been killed in France, and, what was most unusual, could talk about them without worrying him.

However, the Orphan was presently allowed to hobble about on crutches; and one morning shortly afterwards the weekly trawler from Mudros brought down all the gun-room stores which the messman had ordered from Malta.

"We needn't ask the War Baby to our picnics now, need we?" the Pimple and the China Doll burst out excitedly, as they saw the piles of sardines and sausages, tins of biscuits, jars of bloater paste, and all the luxuries their souls craved.

By the end of July the Orphan returned to duty with a slight limp, which he kept up rather longer, perhaps, than was absolutely necessary.

The air was full of rumours once again, many of them more ridiculous than ever; and at last, on the 7th August, came the news that nearly sixty thousand men had been thrown ashore at Anzac, and at Suvla to the north of it. "The new landing", stated the message, "took the enemy partially by surprise"--and from that the most optimistic conjectures were made.

Also came the news that E11 had sunk the _Barbarossa_, an old German battleship bought by Turkey some years back--sunk her in the Sea of Marmora. You can guess what a noisy, rowdy night that was down in the gun-room.

Four days later the _Achates_ received orders to proceed to Suvla herself, and, after her six weeks of "heavenly" rest, everyone felt greatly pleased to be "up and doing" something again. She wound her way out through the tortuous channel between those beautiful green cliffs, past "Picnic" Island, and zigzagged her way towards the Gallipoli Peninsula.

At dawn of Thursday, 12th August, she passed through a line of trawlers patrolling between Imbros and Samothrace islands, and presently heard once more the booming of guns.

No information whatever had been received of the actual progress and state of affairs; everyone expected--at any rate, hoped--to find the army established more than half-way across the Peninsula, and still advancing; so that when Captain Macfarlane saw a big shell bursting on the very shore itself, he groaned: "Did you see that, Navigator? Stalemate again, I fear."

"A pretty big one, that shell, sir. It may have come from a ship anchored in The Narrows," the Navigator suggested; but even as he did so, three puff-balls of cotton-wool, shrapnel-bursts, appeared against the sky, only just behind the line of the shore.

"That makes it certain," the Captain said very gravely; "they can't burst shrapnel at long ranges."

A cloud of cordite smoke shot out from the side of a cruiser at anchor there--the _Talbot_; and both of them watched to see where the shell burst. "There it is, sir, just in front of that village," the Navigator called out, pointing to a village five miles inland, in a dip in the great semicircular sweep of hills which shut in the whole bay. "I thought they had gained those hills," exclaimed the Captain, keenly disappointed. "Well!"--and he sighed; "if they haven't by this time they will never get them. This means 'finish'."

A submarine net had been laid across the mouth of Suvla Bay; and by the time the _Achates_ passed through the narrow "gate" between the supporting buoys, most of the Honourable Mess were gathered on the after shelter-deck, gazing ashore at the bursting shells, and eagerly trying to make out the state of affairs. Even to the most unskilled of these young officers it was evident that the Army could not have advanced very far.

The _Achates_ anchored just to the south of Suvla Point, and about twelve hundred yards from the shore. As she swung to the breeze and the tide, the most extraordinary-looking "freak" ship came into view, lying close inshore, with a squat funnel, and an enormous turret with two huge guns sticking out of it. She looked almost as broad as she was long, and the Honourable Mess burst out laughing when they saw her. "That's one of the new big monitors," Bubbles grunted. "Look! What an extraordinary ship!"

This was the _Havelock_, and farther out lay several of the new small monitors with a single 9.2-inch gun in the bows or a 6-inch at each end. Inside the line of black buoys which marked the submarine net were also some twenty transports and store ships, a collier, a water-distilling steamer, and many trawlers. Picket-boats, tugs, and little motor-boats dashed about the harbour; a picket-boat towed a long string of transports' boats out towards a hospital ship lying farther away; but the strangest of all the craft there were the "water-beetles", which they now saw for the first time. These were lighters, painted black, with hinged gangways projecting over their bows, circular shields round their steering-wheels, and square box-shaped structures aft, each with a small funnel projecting from its roof, and the official number of the lighter painted, in huge white figures, on the side. One went grunting and thumping past, leaving a track of smoke and a smell of burning oil behind it, carrying perhaps five hundred soldiers inshore. Another lay alongside the nearest store ship, and the bales of hay which they were loading into her made her look like a huge haystack. Another, flying a Red Cross flag, grunted past from shore, filled with wounded. "Water-beetles" made a most appropriate name for them.

The only other men-of-war at anchor inside the "net" were the _Swiftsure_, _Talbot,_ and _Cornwall_; but farther down the coast, off Anzac and Gabe Tepe, they could see their "sister" ship, the _Bacchante_, looking very much "out in the cold" as far as protection from submarines went, in spite of numerous trawlers and several destroyers patrolling round her.

Steamboats began to come alongside, and from their midshipmen the Honourable Mess soon learnt the news.

One midshipman told them "that the soldiers held the first two miles of the hill beyond Suvla Point, but could not get on any farther". "Have they joined up with Anzac and away to the right?" they asked. "I don't think so--not properly. We haven't advanced for the last two days." "I don't know how many wounded I have taken off," said one wornout-looking midshipman. "That's my job, and I've been at it almost day and night for the last five days--nearly eight thousand have been taken off altogether, I fancy."

Another snotty told them of the awful shortage of water during the first two fateful days, and how terribly the troops had suffered. "They couldn't stand it," he said. "It was frightfully hot, and by Saturday afternoon (they landed at 11 p.m. on Friday night) men were rushing down to the shore and dashing into the sea, quite delirious."

The Hun in his steam pinnace came back from a trip ashore, with a story of two shells which had fallen close to him. "It's like old times," he said excitedly.

It was--exactly; exactly as it had been at Helles, in front of Krithia and Achi Baba.

All that morning, at every opportunity, everyone went up on the after shelter-deck, or climbed up to the main-top, to try and find the exact position occupied by our troops and how far they had advanced. They gazed through their glasses at a huge amphitheatre extending from Suvla Point right down to Anzac--six and a half miles away--shut in by that semi-circular rampart of hills which barred the way to the other side of the Peninsula and the Dardanelles. Down at Anzac they could trace the maze of trenches along the slopes and spurs at that end of the rampart of hills, and could also trace the Turkish trenches on the crest and upper slopes. At first they thought that these last trenches were British; but they soon knew, by watching the shells from the _Bacchante_ bursting among them, that they were not. Sweeping their glasses to the left, they followed the ridge of hills as it bent round in a huge curve some five miles and a half from shore, until they came to a dip, in front of which was Anafarta---just such another village as Krithia--with its white houses and its row of windmills. At the left end of this village a tall minaret showed up very distinctly. Sweeping still farther to the left, the hills became higher, and then bent towards the sea, until they reached within a mile of Suvla Point itself as a ridge some 650 feet high. From this point--known as the Bench Mark--the ridge dropped in a series of shoulders, until nothing but a gigantic backbone of almost bare rock remained to jut out into the sea and form Suvla Point itself. Our men had at one time reached this Bench Mark, but had been driven back to the top of the next depression, which they still held. In fact, from the ship that morning the little khaki figures of our men were very clearly seen up there on the sky-line, two and a half miles from Suvla Point. This advanced post was known as Jephson's Post, and on the land side of it the scrub-covered ground sloped down in ridges and gullies to the plain, whilst behind, and away out of sight of the ships, it fell very abruptly to the sea, and ended in lofty, barren cliffs.

The coast-line from Suvla Point swept round in a deep curve to another point known as Nebuchadnezzar Point[#]--a mile and a half farther towards Anzac--and thus made Suvla Bay. Behind Nebuchadnezzar Point lay the little hill "Lala Baba", some 120 feet high, and just round the corner the shore stretched in an almost straight line right down to Anzac.

[#] Its actual name is Niebruniessi Point.

It was the aristocratic Major of Marines, who had been studying the military map, who pointed all these places out to them. He pointed out the guns already in position behind Lala Baba, and he showed them "Chocolate Hill", another elevation some 160 feet high and about three miles inland, where our people could be seen busy digging trenches, and every now and again being sprayed with shrapnel. Between these two little hills lay a broad, flat area, looking like dry mud. "That is the Salt Lake," the Major told them. "It is dry all the summer."

Except for the people who could be seen up at Jephson's Post, more men moving behind a line of trenches running down the slope from that position, and the people digging on Chocolate Hill, the only indication of the general line we held was to be gained by watching where the Turkish shrapnel occasionally burst.

By this time--the 12th August--after having seen so much of operations ashore, every officer in the gun-room and ward-room had become an expert military strategist and tactician--as you can imagine; so it was quite unnecessary for the gallant Major of Marines--who, of course, was the leading expert of all ("because he wore a red stripe down his trousers," Bubbles said)--to explain that "Anafarta village must be captured; that this was the first thing to be done".

"I guessed that--in once," bleated the China Doll in an undertone.

"The whole success of this new operation depended on capturing Anafarta, and the ridge behind it, by a _coup de main_," went on the Major, as though addressing a class at Sandhurst. "The whole situation now demands an entire reconsideration of plans. I must say that I feel doubtful of ultimate success unless very heavy reinforcements arrive." Whereupon he shut his old-fashioned telescope with a snap, and went below, as if, from his point of view, he had washed his hands of the matter.

Uncle Podger, the Sub, Bubbles, the Orphan, and the China Doll remained to watch the ambulance wagons slowly trailing across the Salt Lake towards the cluster of hospital tents to the left of Lala Baba--the First Casualty Clearing-station--at "Wounded A" beach, and to watch the battalions in reserve enjoying a rest under some low cliffs this side of Lala Baba, many hundreds of men splashing merrily in the sea, undeterred by shrapnel bursting over them at intervals.

The _Havelock_ lay at anchor quite close to these men.

"If I were running the show," the China Doll suggested confidently, "I should----" But how success could have been achieved will never be known, for "eight bells" struck, lunch waited down in the gun-room, and the China Doll knew the disadvantage of a late start, so flew away like a "rigger".

Many of the gun-room officers came up again after a hasty meal, and began examining the details of the extraordinary _Havelock_, when, all of a sudden, a spout of water flew up close to her.

"Hello! What's that? There goes another! Someone's having a "go" at her. Look! Look at those two puffs of smoke amidships! She's been hit! Ah! She's getting under way--about time too."

Her cable came in, and she slowly moved out of the way, signalling that three men had been wounded. One or two more spouts of water sprang up, but then they let her alone, and the water spouts began creeping towards the _Cornwall_--past her--over--back again--short. The _Cornwall_ hastily got her anchor up, and circled away from that unpleasant spot; and then the little shells began falling quite close to the _Swiftsure_, at anchor only some four hundred yards away from the _Achates_.

"Short! Short again! Hello! that hit--on her starboard quarter! I saw it bounce off--it's close to her ward-room! There's another! That went in! Look! you can see the hole--close to the water-line."

"Look! Look! Look!" cries came from all round--it was getting exciting now--as three shells, one after the other, burst close to her for'ard funnel and the smoke of them drifted away.

"She's getting it hot. She'll be off in a minute. Ah, she's shortening in!"

They heard the _Swiftsure's_ buglers sounding "Action".

"It will be our turn next," they laughed--a little nervously, as the _Swiftsure_ circled away towards the line of submarine-net buoys; and, sure enough, in a couple of minutes there came a loud, wailing, rushing noise, which seemed to pass between the foremast and next funnel, and a "flomp" as a shell fell into the water on the other side, some sixty yards away.

They ducked and went down below, but not before another drawn-out wail ended in a "flomp" a hundred yards short of the ship. "Action Stations" sounded, and everyone cleared away to their quarters; the China Doll, very pale, and not enjoying himself at all, having to climb up the rigging to the fore-control top. He heard a shell coming, caught his breath, clung to the ratlines, and knew it would hit him. He heard it "flomp" into the sea behind him; and the irritated Gunnery-Lieutenant, coming up after him, hurried him up the rigging with angry oaths. "Get that range-finder uncovered. What's the range of that village? Quick! Quick! Quick! I've got nothing to fire at. There are no orders yet."

Down on the foc's'le the Commander, the Bos'n, and a few men were getting up the anchor as fast as possible, and in five minutes off went the _Achates_.

Directly these four ships began moving about, the Turks left off firing at them and threw shells at the transports lying farther out; but these lay at the extreme range of their guns, and that afternoon, at any rate, they made no hits. After a while they ceased firing, and the ships came back and anchored. The Hun, who had been away all this time in his steamboat, came down into the gun-room in a great state of excitement, as a shell had fallen within ten feet of his boat. The _Swiftsure_ presently signalled that she had five men killed and fourteen wounded. News came from the _Grafton_, out beyond Suvla, round the northern corner, that she too had been shelled, and had lost nine men killed and twenty wounded--all these casualties caused by one small shell which came down a hatchway and burst among a crowd of men gathered there.

"What a change, after six weeks of peace at Ieros!" Bubbles gurgled. "I don't think much of this war. I call it rotten."

"Jolly uncivil of them--and our first day, too!" Uncle Podger said.

"Whatever rhymes with _Achates_?" asked Rawlins, whose poetical genius had once more been roused. "'Not afraid is,' would do, but I can't fit it in; or 'What a day 'tis'--that's jolly difficult to fit in too."

The rest of the afternoon passed quietly, and that evening the reconnoitring aeroplane which flew over from the island of Imbros--from the aerodrome at Kephalo--reported that she had seen the Turks digging emplacements for four big guns on the top of the ridge.

"Well, that's not very cheering," Uncle Podger grimaced as he smoked a pipe in the Sub's cabin after dinner. "If they can make us shift about and keep under way with those small things, as they did this afternoon, they'll drive us out altogether with their big guns--and submarines will be waiting for us there."

"We shall have to knock 'em out," the Sub said; "that's all."

"We couldn't do it at Helles; I don't see how we are going to do it here," Uncle Podger said. "Did anyone see the guns that were firing at us?"

The Sub shook his head. "I don't think so."

They went back into the gun-room just in time to hear the China Doll plaintively saying: "I didn't like going up to the top one bit; a shell came very close to me;" and the others singing out: "What does your carcass matter? Wind up the gramophone and let's have a noise!"

A most perfect night followed, and nearly everyone slept on deck; but hardly had they been turned off the quarter-deck next morning, when shells began whistling across the _Achates_, and off she had to go again to get away from them. These shells came from a 4.1-inch high-velocity gun, and gave about three seconds "notice" before they arrived. That morning, for the first time, the Turks turned a 5.9-inch gun on the shore--the same calibre gun as "Gallipoli Bill"--bursting high explosives with their tremendous roar, abreast the ship, on what was known as "New A" beach, a convenient little split in the rocks where most of the boats ran in, and close to where "Kangaroo Pier" was being built. These shells fell almost vertically and did very little harm, but their noise was extremely disconcerting.

That evening the battleship _Venerable_ arrived, and next day the _Achates_ became more or less of a depot ship for the Naval transport officers, the Harbour-master, the surveying officers, and (as Uncle Podger said, when their midshipmen "assistants" and the midshipmen of all the "stray" pickets came to live in her)--a "home for lost dogs". The gun-room was again invaded by tired, weary snotties, in their grimy Condy's-fluid-stained uniforms, who, when they were not eating, lay about on the leather cushions and odd corners, and slept. The Pimple and the China Doll were almost reduced to tears when they thought how the gun-room stores would disappear once more.

It was a depressing day; they could not call the gun-room their own. They heard of the fall of Warsaw; nothing seemed able to stop the German advance through Poland and Galicia; and this new landing gave not any hope of success.

"Oh, bother it all! Stick another needle in, China Doll, and start that rotten gramophone," they said.

At the mention of gramophone the Lamp-post would always slink out of the Mess.

The Turks had left them alone that day--as far as shells were concerned; but Fritz, the submarine, evading the patrolling trawlers, let go a torpedo at the balloon ship--the _Manica_--outside, beyond the nets.

A plaintive signal came from her that a torpedo had passed underneath her, and a submarine had been seen from the balloon--that yellow monstrosity waggling above her. That meant another interval for excitement, and a manning of the small guns in case Fritz took it into his head to pop up his periscope anywhere near. The balloon was hauled down, and off went the _Manica_ to seek protection behind the "net" at Kephalo, in Imbros Island.

More shells came along on the Sunday morning, just when the Honourable Mess, clothed only in towels, clamoured for "next turn" at the little baths. Again the ships had to get under way, and the _Swiftsure_ reported one hit, without casualties. It was a quaint crowd of undraped young officers who gathered behind the six inches of armour round Y1 casemate, and waited for the "sh--sh--plonk" of the Turks' shells to cease, and the bugle to sound the "carry on", before they rushed back to complete their toilet. Don't imagine that the ships took their insults "lying down". They blazed away at where the guns were reported to be, or where they thought they were; but as you should know by now, it was practically impossible to spot them; and, in time, everybody learnt that the best thing to do was to plug a few shells into Anafarta village (keeping clear of the Red Crescent flags which decorated it), where one shrewdly expected that the Turkish Head-quarters Staff and its German "pals" had comfortable "diggings". A few shells there, delicately placed, generally had the desired effect. One could almost imagine the German Staff Officer (when shells began knocking down the houses round him) cursing: "Gott im Himmel! it's not good enough being bothered like this. Telephone to that confounded battery to leave 'em alone, till I've finished my breakfast; it's not doing any good, anyway."

That Sunday afternoon our troops tried to advance along the ridge beyond Suvla Point, and did make some headway; but they came up against a wretched redoubt, a thousand yards from Jephson's Post, crammed with machine-guns, and were brought to a standstill.

The _Talbot_ and the _Swiftsure_ did most of the covering work; but the Turkish trenches up there, and that redoubt, were so protected by the folds and curvatures of the hills that their high-velocity guns were very ineffective.

When this business was finished, "Cuthbert", the hostile aeroplane, came over from Maidos, and made a "bee-line" for the balloon ship once more. As he approached, the _Manica_ commenced hauling down the balloon and its observers, and simply screeched at "Cuthbert" with her maxims; but the aeroplane did not take anything seriously, plumped down two bombs within half a mile of her--not nearer--appeared to be perfectly content, and went home again, followed by some very pretty shrapnel from the _Talbot_.