The Fight for Constantinople: A Story of the Gallipoli Peninsula

  CHAPTER XVII

  Within Sight of Constantinople

  Instinctively Dick Crosthwaite made his way to the conning-tower, whereLieutenant-Commander Huxtable was standing by the bowl of theperiscope. The latter took no notice of his involuntary guest; hiswhole attention was centred upon the ill-defined patch of light that,momentarily growing brighter, showed that the submarine was on thepoint of rising to launch her fatal missiles.

  The meaningless blurr upon the periscope bowl merged into detail, forthe eye-piece was now above water. The period of exposure was but afew brief seconds, but it was sufficient to show a large Turkishtransport moored alongside the Galata Quay, and in the act of shippingtroops as fast as the men could pass along the gangways.

  Huxtable rapped out an expression of annoyance. He had made thediscovery that the submarine was in the clutches of a strong current.The chance, then, of "getting home" with a torpedo was doublydifficult, for already the British craft was well on the transport'squarter.

  "Down to thirty-four; charge firing-tank; flood both torpedo-tubes;stand by!" he ordered, with hardly a break between the terse commands.

  "All ready, sir," replied the leading torpedoman smartly.

  For three minutes the submarine forged ahead diagonally against thecurrent. The Lieutenant-Commander intended the range to be a short one.

  "At fifteen feet. Fire!"

  Barely had the torpedoes left the tubes when the submarine dived again.Swept by the current, in addition to the "easy ahead" movement of themotors, she rapidly left the scene of her latest activities, to theaccompaniment of a hot fusillade. The Turkish gunners on the shorebatteries were madly blazing away at every visible object of wreckagefrom the stricken troop-ship, while the British craft glided serenelyout of the danger area.

  Yet, in spite of the risk of being plugged by a shell, Huxtable feltcompelled to have a look at the work of destruction. The transport wasalready on the bottom, with a pronounced list to starboard and awayfrom the quayside. Hundreds of panic-stricken troops were lining hershoreward side or leaping frantically to land.

  "At all events the survivors won't show up at the Dardanelles in ahurry," remarked Huxtable. "Now to save ourselves."

  Down went the submarine to sixty feet, a course being shaped for theBosphorus; but before the vessel had covered a distance of half a mile,a dull grating sound announced that she had run heavily upon a shinglebank.

  Caught by the current her stern swung round, till, pinned broadside onby the rush of water, she lay rocking sluggishly on the bed of the sea.To obtain her bearings by means of the periscope would mean destructionby the powerful shore batteries. To attempt to rise to clear the bankwould result in the submarine being swept into shoal water before shecould answer her helm. All that could be done was to deprive her ofall her available controllable buoyancy, in order to resist thepressure of the surging stream, and await the horrors of darkness.

  For defensive work in her proper role the submarine was now useless.She had fired her last pair of torpedoes. On the surface she might beable to put up a fight by means of her two quick-firers, but againstdestroyers and shore-batteries these weapons were quite inadequate.

  Night drew on. With the setting of the sun powerful search-lightsswept the Golden Horn to the Bosphorus, while the now alert Turkishgunners stood by their guns, ready at the first sight of a periscope tosend the Giaours to Eblis, for there was a strong suspicion that thedaring British craft would still be lurking in the vicinity in order toattempt another act of destruction.

  "Time, I fancy," declared Huxtable, as the hands of the clock on thewall of the conning-tower pointed to the hour of midnight. Officersand men heaved a sigh of relief. Anything seemed better than lyingmotionless on the bed of the channel.

  It was inexpedient to start the motors. The submarine must be raisedunder the influence of her reserve of buoyancy until there was nochance of her propeller blades being snapped off by contact with theshoal.

  The periscope showed nothing beyond a confusing display ofsearch-lights. Huxtable took the craft up still more until herconning-tower was awash. To his surprise he found that the submarinewas drifting almost across the bows of a large coal-hulk, which wasmoored about two hundred yards from shore. A similar type of vessellay fifty yards from, and abreast of, the hulk. Both craft, owing totheir being practically denuded of coal--a commodity of which the Turkswere greatly in need--towered high out of the water. There were nosigns of ship-keepers. Darkness and solitude seemed to be in solepossession.

  In a flash Huxtable realized that, if he could make fast alongside oneof the hulks, the submarine would be in comparative shelter from thepiercing rays of the search-lights, since the second hulk would screenhis craft from the direct play of their beams.

  It was a desperate move, but like most desperate operations itsaudacity almost promised success. With a slight, almost imperceptibleshock, one of the protective girders encircling the submarine engagedthe mooring chain of the hulk. Round swung the submarine, and beforeshe could slip from the embrace of the heavy chain two of her crew,emerging through the fore-hatch, deftly bent a wire hawser to one ofthe links, and, cautiously checking the boat's way, succeeded inbringing her alongside the coaling craft.

  No hail came from this vessel. The hulk was seemingly deserted.Having no supplies on board, the Turkish authorities did not see thenecessity of keeping watchmen there, or else the ship-keepers had takena chance of going ashore.

  Huxtable's command was not a second too soon in bringing up alongside,for a search-light playing full upon the hulk silhouetted her outlinesand threw a deep shadow athwart the submarine.

  Lying at full length upon the wet deck, the two seamen awaited theorder to cast off should necessity arise, while theLieutenant-Commander, thrusting his head and shoulders through theconning-tower hatchway, made a deliberate survey of the limited expansethat met his gaze.

  "Dashed if I know where we are," he exclaimed, for owing to theextinguishing of the recognized navigation lights, the almost totalabsence of lamps ashore, and above all the disconcerting glare of thesearch-lights, the skipper was unable to fix his position.

  "May I have a look round, sir?" asked Dick. "I've put in part of acommission in these waters."

  "Do so, by all means," replied Huxtable warmly. "Only take care youdon't get spotted. If you are, make a blind rush for theconning-tower. Every second would be precious."

  Clambering through the hatchway the Sub gained the limited space formedby the navigation platform. He, too, found that the hulls of the twohulks obstructed his view.

  "I'll get on board this craft," said Dick, indicating the hulkalongside of which the submarine was lying. "It seems quite deserted."

  "Carry on, then!" assented the Lieutenant-Commander; "but, mind you, wedon't want to have to leave you behind."

  "And I'm sure I don't want to be left," said Crosthwaite with a laugh."I'll exercise caution."

  The hulk was fitted with parallel rows of horizontal wooden ledges toserve as fenders. At whatever depth she drew--for her draught variedconsiderably according to the quantity of coal stowed on board--one ofthese fenders would always be in contact with any craft that happenedto be lying alongside. Between the ledges were wooden ladders, toenable the ship-keepers to board from a boat.

  Carefully making his way along one of the struts that held theanti-mine-girder to the side of the submarine, Dick swung himself uponthe nearest fender. Then, swarming up a ladder until his head was on alevel with the hulk's upper deck, he took a careful survey.

  The craft looked a picture of desolation. Unshipped derricks, tackle,and a confused heap of ropes littered the limited deck space, for thegreater portion was taken up by uncovered hatches. Under the break ofthe poop hung a large drum, which in Ottoman vessels takes the place ofa ship's bell. Close to it were a long-necked earthenware vessel and aplatter. These were the only signs of human occupation. Thewatch-keepers, if they were still on board, must be either
deaf orsound asleep.

  With his boots crunching the thick deposit of coal-dust Dick crept aft,and, satisfying himself that the cabin under the poop was deserted,ascended the rickety ladder.

  Here he was comparatively safe from detection by the search-lights, forthe poop was enclosed by tow bulwarks.

  "Ah, I know where we are," thought the Sub, as from his elevatedposition he caught sight of the dome of the Mosque of Omar and acluster of minarets that, marking the position of Constantinople, stoodout distinctly against the loom of the distant search-lights of theforts on the northern shores of the Sea of Marmora. "That's goodenough."

  He proceeded to retrace his footsteps. As Huxtable had said, everysecond was of importance. At any moment an inquisitive patrol-boatmight put in an appearance under the stern of the hulk, and althoughthe surprise might be mutual, the submarine would run a serious risk ofbeing rammed unless the Turkish officer in charge lost his headcompletely.

  Just as Dick was about to descend the poop-ladder, a giant beam oflight was flung athwart the deck. It was a search-light from KadiKohr, one of the forts on the Scutari side of the Bosphorus. Instantlythe Sub flung himself upon the coal-dusty deck. As he did so he becameaware that in the waist of the hulk a Turk was intently peering overthe side at the British submarine.

  Apparently he was puzzled as to her nationality. It was quite possiblethat he had not heard anything concerning the sinking of the Ottomancruiser and the transport. On the other hand, German submarines werehourly expected at Constantinople, yet there was no valid reason whyone should stealthily make fast alongside a coaling-hulk. Coal was ofno use to her.

  Suddenly something aroused his suspicions. Running aft, the Turksnatched up a drumstick and began to belabour the drum with all theenergy at his command.

  Realizing that the "game was up" and that he must regain the submarinewith all dispatch, Dick left his place of concealment and scurried downthe poop-ladder. As he did so the watch-keeper sought to intercepthim, brandishing an iron crowbar above his head. Down swept theformidable weapon, but by leaping nimbly aside the Sub avoided theblow. The next instant his fist struck the Turk a heavy blow on thepoint of the chin, stretching him senseless on the deck.

  Then, for no apparent reason, Dick tore the drum from its support andhurled it over the side. It was a sort of satisfaction to get rid ofthe instrument that had raised the alarm.

  By this time a dozen search-lights were concentrated on the coal-hulk,with the result that the submarine lying on the lee side was in evengreater darkness.

  Fumbling for the topmost rung of the ladder over the hulk's side, Dicksought to find a means of descending to the British craft. It wasimpossible to see where he was going. He had to rely solely upon hissense of touch.

  "Hurry up there!" sang out the Lieutenant-Commander impatiently, for hecould see Crosthwaite's form silhouetted against the blaze of electriclight.

  There was no time to be lost. Patrol-boats were already hastening tothe scene. Judging his distance Dick leapt, falling into the seabetween the submarine and the hulk, and fortunately missing any of thestruts that supported the horizontal girders. As he rose to thesurface the two seamen who had remained on deck to cast off the hawsergrabbed him by the shoulders and hauled him into safety.

  "THE TWO SEAMEN HAULED HIM INTO SAFETY"]

  Just then a furious burst of quick-firing guns shook the air. Withcomplete indifference to the fact that half a dozen of their ownpatrol-boats were hastening towards the hulk, the nearest batteries hadopened fire.

  Fortunately the patrol-boats flung about and steamed off from thedanger-zone as hard as their engines could go.

  "What are those fools firing at?" asked Huxtable, making way for thedripping form of the Sub as he descended the conning-tower hatchway.The Lieutenant-Commander knew that the batteries were not firing at theBritish craft, for she was quite invisible to the gunners. The shellswere churning the water all around a dark object drifting with thecurrent.

  It was the drum which Dick had thrown overboard. Picked up by theunited glare of a dozen search-lights, ineffectually shelled by twentyor thirty quick-firers, the drum floated serenely towards the Bosphorus.

  Huxtable saw his chance and took it. So intent were the Turkishgun-layers upon blowing to pieces what they imagined to be theconning-tower of the hostile submarine, that neither they nor the menworking the search-lights thought of anything else. Save for theshell-torn water in the immediate vicinity of the drifting drum, thesea was shrouded in intense darkness.

  "Cast off there!" ordered the Lieutenant-Commander; "diving stations."

  As soon as the two seamen had regained the interior of the vessel,hatches were closed and secured, and the submarine, with herconning-tower just awash, forged gently ahead against the stream. Thenunder the action of her horizontal rudders she quickly slipped beneaththe surface and dived to sixty feet.

  "Here we are, sir," reported Dick, indicating on a chart the positionof the submarine. "A course due east will take us towards the centreof the Bosphorus, and in the direction of Scutari."

  "Good!" ejaculated Huxtable. "Crosthwaite, you're a rattling goodfellow. It was a smart idea of yours, slinging the drum overboard. Itdrew their fire splendidly. I don't suppose the rotten gun-layers havesettled it yet."

  Dick said nothing in reply. Already he realized that his action hadbeen done on the spur of the moment. The good result was simply afluke. It seemed an absurd thing to have to confess that he hadjettisoned the drum merely as an act of pique. Huxtable took hissilence as a sign of modesty, and was still further impressed by theSub's forethought.

  The submarine came to rest on the bed of the sea. To plough blindlythrough the darkness was to court disaster. Her commander's plan wasto await the first blush of dawn, ascend and take a rapid bearing, andthen shape a course for the broad expanse of the Sea of Marmora. As hehad expected, the Turks imagined that their daring assailant was one ofthe Russian flotilla of submarines, and their chief attentions werecentred upon preventing its return to the Black Sea by means of thetwenty-four miles of narrow, intricate waterway between the two inlandseas.

  At daybreak the submarine made a cautious ascent. Almost as soon asthe periscope showed above the surface, Huxtable gave vent to anexclamation of mingled surprise and annoyance, for depicted upon theobject-bowl was a large cruiser, lying at anchor within easy torpedorange.

  It was the recreant _Goeben_. The Turco-German battle-cruiser boredistinct traces of the rough handling she had undergone. Her lofty,grey-painted sides were holed in several places, both of her funnelswere perforated, while two of her big guns had been removed, eitherbecause the turret had been put out of action, or else because the hugeweapons were badly wanted for shore defence. In addition she was badlytrimmed, and showed a decided list to starboard.

  "Just our luck!" grunted Huxtable as he promptly caused the submarineto dive once more. "I would give anything for a torpedo; we couldn'tpossibly miss her at this range."

  Ten minutes later another view was obtained through the periscope.Ahead lay the Sea of Marmora: the hazardous return voyage had begun inearnest.