The Fight for Constantinople: A Story of the Gallipoli Peninsula Page 4

  CHAPTER IV

  Trapped in the Magazine

  For some moments Crosthwaite stood stock-still. His senses weretemporarily disorganized by the appalling discovery and by the acridfumes. It was not until he felt Sefton's shoulder sink under his graspthat he realized the lad had collapsed.

  Holding the torch in his left hand, Dick seized the midshipman by thestrap of his field-glasses. Luckily the leather stood the strain well.

  Keeping his lips tightly compressed, the Sub, bending as he made hisway through the fumes, dragged his companion back along the passage.He felt like a man who has dived too deeply. He wanted to fill hislungs with air, yet he knew that to attempt to do so might certainlyend in disaster. The midshipman's inert body, which at first seemedhardly any weight to drag, now began to feel as heavy as lead. Once ortwice the Sub stumbled, the effort causing his lungs to strain almostto bursting-point. It required all his self-control to prevent himselfrelinquishing his burden and jumping to refill his lungs with air whichwas so heavily charged with noxious fumes.

  At length he reached the canvas screen, that, having been soaked inwater by the Turkish ammunition party, was still moist. With a finaleffort he thrust the curtain aside and took in a deep draught of air.It was comparatively fresh. The poisonous gases had failed topenetrate the close-grained fabric. Then, overcome by the reaction,Dick stumbled and fell across the body of his companion.

  How long he lay unconscious he knew not, but at length he was arousedby Sefton vigorously working away at the exercises for restoring tolife those apparently drowned. Half-stupefied, the Sub resented. Hewas under the vague impression that he was in the gun-room of the_Hammerer_ and that the midshipmen were playing some practical joke.Then he began to realize his surroundings.

  The torch was still alight, but already the charge showed signs of"running down". The air, although close, was not heavily impregnatedwith fumes. No sound penetrated the rock-hewn vault.

  "Buck up, sir!" exclaimed Sefton with a familiarity engendered by thesense of danger. "We'll have to get out of this hole as soon as wecan. Are you feeling fit to make a move?"

  Dick sat up. His head was swimming. His limbs felt numbed. Hewondered why he had been in an unconscious state longer than hiscompanion, until he remembered that throughout that terrible journeyalong the gas-charged passage Sefton had been dragged with his headclose to the ground. Consequently, owing to the fumes being lighterthan the air, he was not so badly affected. For another reason: whenDick collapsed, his weight falling across Sefton's body had acted veryefficiently in expelling the bad air from the midshipman's lungs, andas the Sub rolled over the subsequent release of pressure had allowed areflux of comparatively pure air to take the place of that pumped outof Sefton's chest.

  "Can't hear any firing," remarked Sefton. "I suppose our fellows havebeaten them off."

  Dick did not reply. He did not want to raise false hopes. Heremembered the strict orders issued to the officers of the demolitionparty, that in the event of a counter-attack by the Turks they were tofall back immediately upon the boats, and allow the guns of the fleetto deal with the enemy. Yet it seemed strange that there were nosounds of firing, unless some time had elapsed and during that intervalthe _Hammerer_ and her consorts had completely dispersed the Turkishinfantry.

  "Light won't last much longer," declared Sefton laconically. "What'sthe move, sir?"

  Dick moved aside the curtain. The air in the passage was now almostnormal. There was no longer any danger of asphyxiation.

  Retracing their way along the passage, the two young officers made thedisconcerting discovery that the tunnel was completely blocked for thelast twenty feet towards the entrance. They stood in silence, tillDick flashed the light upon his companion's face. The midshipman'sfeatures were perfectly calm.

  "A pretty mess up!" he exclaimed, and the two laughed; not that therewas cause for mirth, but merely to show each other that they were notgoing to accept their misfortunes in fear and trembling. "Let's tryshouting."

  They shouted, but beyond the mocking echo of the voices no reassuringcall came to them in return.

  "Our fellows have been over-zealous with the gun-cotton," observedSefton. "They'll miss us presently, and then they'll have a job to digus out."

  But Crosthwaite had other views on the situation, and these were muchnearer the mark.

  The rifle-firing he had heard that of the demolition party, who in thecourse of their operations had been attacked by overwhelming numbers ofOttoman troops.

  Acting upon instructions the Lieutenant-Commander in charge ordered aretirement. Leaving a section in reserve to cover the retrogrademovement, the bluejackets with very little loss descended the steepside of the hill and re-embarked. Then, covered by the guns of thefleet, the rear-guard successfully retired, in spite of a galling firefrom a battery of field-pieces that the Turks, under German officers,had brought up.

  One of the shells from these guns had resulted in the subsidence of thealready tottering masonry, and had effectively imprisonedSub-lieutenant Crosthwaite and Midshipman Sefton in the magazine.

  It not until the _Hammerer's_ men fell in on the beach that the twoofficers were missed. Someone suggested that they might be with therearguard, now descending from the demolition fort, but inquiriesproved that this was not so.

  As one man the landing-party of the _Hammerer's_ crew volunteered toreturn and search for their missing officers. Reluctantly theLieutenant in charge had to refuse their request. Orders had to becarried out to the letter. Grave consequences might ensue if thedevoted bluejackets returned to the scene of action. Not only wouldthey risk their lives in an attempt that might be futile, but the fireof the fleet might be seriously interfered with.

  So the boats returned to their respective ships, and Sub-lieutenantRichard Crosthwaite and Mr. Midshipman Sefton were duly reported asmissing.

  "Let's explore," suggested Dick. "It's no use sitting down and killingtime. Let's make ourselves useful and explore while the torch lasts.I suppose you haven't another refill?"

  "Half a dozen in my chest, but that's not here," replied themidshipman. "By Jove, I do feel stiff! Why, my jacket's torn, andI've grazed my knee."

  "I'm afraid I must plead guilty to that, Sefton," replied Dick. "I hadto get you along somehow, and there wasn't time for gentle usage."

  "I wondered how I got there," declared the midshipman. "Everythingseemed a blank. By Jove, sir, you saved my life!"

  "I may have had a hand in it," admitted Dick modestly. "Now, supposewe bear away to the left?"

  They had regained the central portion of the subterranean works, andwere confronted by two small passages, one leading to the left and theother to the right, both diverging slightly. The one the officersfollowed was not zigzagged, showing that it did not communicate withthe open air. Dick proposed that they should abandon their efforts inthis direction and explore the right-hand passage.

  "I'm game," assented Sefton. "Yes, this looks promising; it twists andturns as if it were intended to stop the splinter of any shell thathappened to burst at its mouth."

  "No go here!" exclaimed the Sub after traversing about twenty yards."This has been bashed in. We must thank our 12-inch guns for that.The magazine evidently served the quickfirers both of the north andsouth bastions. The question is, what is the third passage for?"

  "We'll see," replied the midshipman, regarding the rapidly failinglight with considerable apprehension.

  The tunnel ran in an almost horizontal direction for fifty paces, thengradually descended in a long, stepless incline.

  "Steady!" whispered Crosthwaite, laying his hand on Sefton's shoulderand at the same time switching off the torch. "I hear voices."

  The officers listened intently. At some considerable distance away menwere talking volubly in an unknown tongue. More, there was a coolcurrent of refreshing air wafting slowly up the incline.

  "Stand by to scoot," continued Dick. "Gently now; we'll get a li
ttlecloser. It's quite evident those chaps are Turks."

  "Why?" asked Sefton.

  "By a process of elimination. They're not speaking English; they'renot French. The lingo is too soft for German, so only Turkish remains.Got your revolver ready?"

  "Yes," said the midshipman, his nerves a-tingle.

  "Then don't use it unless I give the word. Slip the safety-catch andbe on the safe side. We don't want an accidental discharge."

  Softly the Sub groped his way, Sefton following at arm's-length behindhim. After traversing another fifty paces Dick stopped. Ahead hecould see a mound of rubble reaching almost to the roof of the tunnel.It was night: not a star was to be seen. A driving rain was falling,while across the murky patch formed by the partly obstructed mouth ofthe tunnel the search-lights of the British fleet travelled slowly toand fro as they aided the mine-sweepers in their long, arduous task.Not a shot was being fired. The Turkish batteries silenced, at leasttemporarily, required no attention at present from the deadly Britishguns.

  The sound of the voices still continued. The speakers were chatteringvolubly, yet there was no sign of them.

  Gaining confidence, Crosthwaite advanced till farther progress wasarrested by the barrier of rubble.

  Feeling for a foothold, and cautiously making sure that the projectingstones would bear his weight, the Sub climbed to the summit of thebarrier, then, lying at full length, peered over the edge.

  A heavy shell had accounted for the damage done to this exit from themagazine, for a huge crater, twenty feet in diameter, yawned ten feetbeneath him. Not only had the pit been torn up, but masses of rock hadbeen wrenched from the of the cliff, as well as from the top and sidesof the tunnel.

  On the irregular platform thus formed were nearly a score of Turkishtroops--artillerymen in greatcoats and helmets somewhat similar tothose worn by the British during the last Sudan campaign. With themwere two officers in long grey cloaks and fezes. All seemed to betalking at the same time, irrespective of disparity in rank. Some ofthe men were piling sand-bags on the seaward front of the crater,others were looking upwards as if expecting something from above.

  Presently the expected object appeared, lowered by a powerful tackle.It was the carriage of a large field-piece.

  "Those fellows show pluck, anyhow," thought Dick. "After the gruellingthey've had, and seeing their forts knocked about their ears, they setabout to place fresh guns in position. These field-pieces, wellconcealed, will take a lot of finding, unless we can stop the littlegame."

  Meanwhile Sefton had climbed the barrier and lay by the side of hiscompanion. Silently the two watched the development of the Turks'operations. They had not long to watt.

  A pair of wheels followed the carriage, and then after a brief intervalthe huge gun, "parbuckled" from the edge of the cliff, was lowered intoposition. In less than half an hour the piece was reassembled;ammunition was brought down, and finally brushwood placed in front onthe sand-bags and over the gun; while to show how complete had been theGermanizing of Turkey, a field-telephone had been laid between theemplacement and those on either side, which, of course, was invisibleto the two British officers.

  For some time the Turkish officers kept the trawlers and attendantdestroyers under observation with the field-glasses. The men wereobviously impatient to open fire, yet for some inexplicable reason theywere restrained. Possibly it was to lure the mine-sweepers into asense of security, or else the Turks thought fit to ignore the smallcraft and await the chance of a surprise attack upon the coveringBritish battleships and cruisers.

  Being well within the mouth of the tunnel, Dick and the midshipman werenot exposed to the driving rain. But on the other hand the Turkishartillerymen were without any means of protection from the downpour,and, since they could not show their zeal by opening fire, they did nothesitate to show their resentment at being kept out in the open.

  At length one of the Turkish officers gave an order. The men formed upwith a certain show of smartness, broke into a quick march, anddisappeared beyond a projection of the cliff. Only one man was left assentry, and he hastened to get to leeward of a friendly rock. Fromwhere the two Englishmen lay, the point of his bayonet could just bediscerned above the top of the boulder.

  Then Dick directed his attention seaward. He mentally gauging thedistance between the shore and the nearest of the mine-sweepers. Thesevessels were steaming slowly ahead, with sufficient way to stem theever-running current from the Sea of Marmora to the ?gean. Certainlyfor the whole time Dick and his companion had been on the lookout therehad been no explosion of a caught mine. Apparently the sweepers hadalmost completed their work up this particular area, and were making afinal test to make certain that no hidden peril had escaped them.

  The Sub nudged his companion, and the pair retraced their steps untilthey had put a safe distance between them and the sentry.

  "Look here," said Crosthwaite. "We've two things to do. First, towarn our people of the formation of a new Turkish battery, andsecondly, to rejoin our ship. The question is: how are we to set aboutit?"

  "Flash a message with the torch," suggested Sefton.

  "I thought of that, but dismissed it," remarked the Sub. "For onething the light's pretty feeble, and our people mayn't spot it. Ifthey did they might think it was a false message sent by the enemy.And another thing: the Turks might notice the glare in the mouth of thetunnel."

  "And we would get collared," added the midshipman.

  "That's hardly the point. Our liberty is a small matter, but beingmade prisoners we should have no chance of letting our trawlers knowthat there is a masked battery being placed in position. No; I thinkthe best thing we can do is to swim for it."

  "I'm game," declared Sefton.

  "It's quite possible that we'll pull it off all right," continued Dick."You see there's a steady current always setting down the Dardanelles.That means that if we miss the nearest destroyer or trawler, we'll getswept across the bows of one farther down. Take off your gaiters andsee that your bootlaces are ready to be undone easily. We won'tdiscard any more of our gear till we're ready to plunge into the water.That's right; now follow me."

  Returning to the barrier at the entrance of the tunnel, the Subwriggled cautiously over the obstruction until he could command afairly extensive view of the gun emplacement and its surroundings. Therest of the artillerymen had not returned, while apparently the sentry,having been left to his own devices, had sought shelter from the rainand was enjoying a cigarette.

  Softly Dick dropped down, alighting on a pile of cut brushwood. Hewaited till Sefton had rejoined him, and the pair crept slowly anddeliberately towards a gap left between the rock and the end of thesemicircular rampart of sand-bags.

  Suddenly the Sub came to a dead stop almost within a handbreadth of thelevelled bayonet of the Turkish sentry.