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Title: Two American Boys with the Dardanelles Battle Fleet

Author: Sherman Crockett

Illustrator: Charles L. Wrenn

Release date: January 24, 2020 [eBook #61225]

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Demian Katz, Craig Kirkwood, and the Online
        Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (Images
        courtesy of the Digital Library@Villanova University
        (http://digital.library.villanova.edu/))


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TWO AMERICAN BOYS WITH THE DARDANELLES BATTLE FLEET ***




Produced by Demian Katz, Craig Kirkwood, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (Images
courtesy of the Digital Library@Villanova University
(http://digital.library.villanova.edu/))






Transcriber’s Notes:

Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).

Additional Transcriber’s Notes are at the end.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: The two American boys realized that they were in touch
with one of the grandest combats the world had ever known.--_Page 107_]




TWO AMERICAN BOYS WITH THE DARDANELLES BATTLE FLEET


  BY
  MAJOR SHERMAN CROCKETT

  AUTHOR OF “TWO AMERICAN BOYS WITH THE ALLIED ARMIES,”
  “TWO AMERICAN BOYS IN THE FRENCH WAR
  TRENCHES,” ETC.

  _ILLUSTRATED BY
  CHARLES L. WRENN_

  NEW YORK
  HURST & COMPANY
  PUBLISHERS

       *       *       *       *       *

Copyright, 1916, BY HURST & COMPANY




CONTENTS


  CHAPTER                                PAGE

      I. ABOARD THE GREEK POWERBOAT         5

     II. THE GUN RUNNER                    17

    III. THE THREATENING PERIL             27

     IV. HOW THE TRICK WORKED              41

      V. CONTRABAND OF WAR                 53

     VI. IN THE GLOW OF THE SEARCHLIGHT    65

    VII. ABOARD THE BATTLESHIP THUNDERER   77

   VIII. BOMBARDING THE TURKISH FORTS      89

     IX. THE BATTLE IN THE STRAITS        101

      X. AMIDST THE CRASH OF BIG GUNS     113

     XI. WHERE HISTORY WAS BEING MADE     125

    XII. AFTER DARKNESS FELL              137

   XIII. HEADED FOR THE GALLIPOLI SHORE   149

    XIV. LANDING UNDER FIRE               161

     XV. THE GALLANT TERRITORIALS         173

    XVI. A COLONEL OF THE “KANGAROOS”     185

   XVII. TO SURPRISE THE TURKS            197

  XVIII. THE BATTLE FOR THE TRENCHES      210

    XIX. AFTER THE FIGHT WAS OVER         222

     XX. STARTING ON A DANGEROUS TRIP     237

    XXI. THE HIDDEN BATTERY ON THE SHORE  247

   XXII. PERILS OF THE TRAIL              262

  XXIII. WITH THE NEW ZEALAND CONTINGENT  272

   XXIV. AN ATTACK THAT FAILED            287

    XXV. FOUND AT LAST                    299

       *       *       *       *       *

Two American Boys with the Dardanelles Battle Fleet.




CHAPTER I. ABOARD THE GREEK POWERBOAT.


“This old Greek powerboat seems to be making pretty fair time, isn’t
it, Amos?”

“It certainly is, Jack, which fact gives me a whole lot of solid
satisfaction, I tell you.”

“Lucky for us the water happens to be fairly smooth this spring. They
say the Ægean Sea can kick up a lively circus when it takes the notion.”

“The old stories told of the Greek mariners prove that. You know, Jack,
we’re fairly surrounded by places that have been made famous in ancient
history.”

“Right you are, Amos, and I reckon the Straits of the Dardanelles, that
in the days of Leander used to be called the Hellespont, is one of the
most noted sheets of water in the wide world.

“Yes, dozens of old-time cities like ancient Troy were situated around
the Sea of Marmora. The Persians crossed the straits when they tried
so hard to conquer brave little Macedonia and Thrace. Then there was
Alexander the Great, who led his wonderful army into Asia by the same
route. I guess you could talk for hours about the thrilling events that
have taken place along the Dardanelles.

“And now, Amos, to think that in these modern days the Turk is ably
defending the water road to Constantinople against his one-time friends
and backers, the British and French.

“Times have changed, Amos, and I reckon the Turk is on his way
to scuttle out of Europe at last. He came from Asia, you know.
Constantinople wasn’t founded by the followers of Mahomet, but taken as
a prize of war.”

“Well,” answered Amos, “I only hope that this time we’ll be lucky
enough to find my brother Frank. We’ve made two attempts back in
Belgium and France, and arrived just in time to learn he had been sent
to other fields where skilled airmen were badly needed.”

“Three is often the lucky number, Amos, and somehow I’ve got a hunch
that this time we’re bound to run across your brother, who has done
such good work for the Allies.”

“I hope so, Jack, I certainly hope so; and one thing sure, I’ll never
forget the splendid way you’ve shared my fortunes, no matter how dark
they seemed. You’re a cousin and a chum in a million.”

“Forget all that, please, Amos. I’m straining my eyes through this
glass in hopes of picking up some sign of land ahead beyond that
island yonder; or perhaps seeing the smudge of smoke from the Allies’
battleships on the hazy horizon. Here, take a look, and let me know if
you can make out anything.”

Perhaps it might be just as well, while the two manly-looking American
lads on board the big Greek powerboat are thus engaged, to go a little
into details, and explain who they are. It is necessary, also, that the
reader know what strange mission took them into the dangerous waters
of the Mediterranean while the world war was in progress.

Of course, those readers who have had the privilege of enjoying the
two previous volumes of this series[1] do not need an introduction
to Jack and Amos, since they have already followed the pair through
many extraordinary adventures when near the firing line in Belgium and
Northern France.

There are, however, doubtless others who are making the acquaintance of
the two chums for the first time in these pages, and for their sake a
brief explanation is necessary.

Amos Turner and Jack Maxfield were not only related through ties of
blood, being cousins, but for a long time they had been the most
devoted of chums. Blue-eyed Jack had spent some time on a Western
ranch, and learned many things there through actual experience that
his friend knew only in theory, although Amos had been for some time
interested in the Boy Scout movement.

The boy with the dark eyes lived near Chicago, and his father, Colonel
Rodney Turner, was known as an ex-military man whose book on tactics
had been used throughout the English-speaking world. The stern martinet
had traveled extensively, and in this way became personally acquainted
with a number of soldiers of world-wide reputation.

There was an older brother, Frank Bradford Turner, a bright boy, but
inclined at one time to be wild (and was sometimes called Tom, a
nickname of early days). When the old gentleman missed a pocketbook,
which he remembered distinctly of having placed in a desk drawer where
he kept his papers, he fully believed Frank had given way to temptation
and taken it.

The boy had simply denied ever seeing it, but the circumstances were
so very suspicious that it ended in a quarrel, and his being sent away
from home.

Frank had not been seen by any one for several years, and must have
grown to manhood, for he was ten years older than Amos.

Then, one day, an astonishing discovery was made in the Turner home.
The drawer of the Colonel’s desk became wedged, and, being now in
failing health, he called in Amos to get it out, and oil the edges so
it might work smoother.

Amos, discovering that one or two papers had been dragged off the top
of the pile in taking the drawer out, thrust his hand into the cavity
to capture them, and immediately held up the long-missing pocketbook.
It had fallen off in opening the drawer, and was never stolen after all.

Remorse began immediately to gnaw at the old soldier’s heart. He called
himself all manner of names, and was suffering keenly, under the belief
that he would now never see his oldest born again.

It was learned, through accident, that Frank had traveled in African
wilds with a noted explorer. Then, later on, in England, he had taken
to aviation, and made a practical air pilot of himself. They even
discovered that he had offered his services to the British Government
at the outbreak of hostilities, and was even then engaged in his
hazardous calling somewhere along the front.

Since the Colonel himself was in too feeble a state of health to think
of going across the ocean to look for his wronged boy, Amos proposed
that he and Jack undertake the sacred duty. And so they started, well
supplied with money, and bearing besides a letter to General Kitchener,
who had been, at one time, while in Egypt, a great friend of Colonel
Turner, a man whose system of tactics he admired highly.

Meeting the “man of destiny,” upon whom England was placing most of her
faith in this terrible crisis, the boys had no difficulty in securing
from him a paper that later on smoothed over many difficulties they
chanced to encounter while in the fighting zone.

Dozens of times they had made petty officials stare when they saw
what a strong endorsement these American lads carried. Often men high
in military authority had virtually made a salute at sight of the
letter actually penned by Kitchener of Khartoum, whose name was a sign
manual wherever men wore the khaki of the British army, as well as the
Territorials, as the men from Canada, Australia and New Zealand were
called.

After encountering many perils, all of which have been entertainingly
described in previous pages, the boys had actually hit upon a strong
clue. They heard about the astonishingly daring work of an Allied
aviator named Frank Bradford, who, besides other feats, had made a long
flight up into the Rhine country and severely damaged some ammunition
stores and works of the Germans, returning in safety through dangers
without limit.

The more the two lads investigated and asked questions the more firmly
Amos became convinced that this Frank Bradford, winning fame as the
most skillful of all the Allied air pilots, could be no other than his
long-missing brother. For some reason of his own, Frank had chosen to
be known by only a portion of his real name; but the descriptions
tallied with the remembrance Amos had of his brother.

They had followed the trail from Belgium over into Northern France,
and had high hopes of coming upon the object of their long search
there; but only met with still another disappointment. Aviators were
sorely needed in the region of the Dardanelles, where the Allied fleet
was trying to force a passage through the narrow channel that led
to the Sea of Marmora, and Constantinople. This peninsula was being
desperately defended by an army of Turks, officered by hundreds of
expert Germans, and with scores of forts and batteries to hold the
assailants in check.

Frank had just a short time before started for the East, and thither,
as soon as they could get aboard a steamer at Boulogne, the two boys
followed him. They touched at Italy, and from there managed to get to a
seaport in Greece, where the real difficulties of the undertaking began
to confront them.

Just when they were ready to give up all hope of finding a chance to
take passage on any sort of boat, and were even contemplating trying to
purchase a small naphtha launch of some sort, they learned that a large
powerboat was starting for some Turkish port. The commander, who went
under the name of Captain Zenos, agreed to take them somewhere near the
scene of operations, when they could find some way of getting in touch
with British Headquarters, and learning what they wished to know about
Frank Bradford.

They had been for some time passing cautiously among the numerous
islands of the famous Ægean Sea, and were heading for the Gallipoli
Peninsula that lies between it and the heavily fortified Dardanelles
Straits.

After using the glass which his chum had handed him, Amos declared
that it began to look as though they might be heading for the island
mentioned.

“We are, by this time,” he went on to say, “getting somewhere near our
destination, and, since we have paid in advance, I’ve been wondering
whether the captain might not mean to land us at any old place, just to
get rid of us.”

Jack glanced around before replying, as though to make certain there
was no chance of his being overheard. At the time it happened that
the crew of seven dark-faced and brawny Greeks were engaged in doing
something up forward, under the supervision of their captain, so that
Jack felt perfectly free to speak what he had on his mind.

“I’ve been meaning to mention a certain matter for some time, Amos, and
it strikes me there’s no use holding it back any longer,” he said, half
under his breath.

“Is it about Captain Zenos, Jack?” immediately demanded the other, who
doubtless must have noticed the cautious look his companion gave toward
the skipper and rough crew of the big powerboat that was churning the
water so noisily.

“Just what it is,” came the immediate reply. “To tell you the honest
truth, Amos, I don’t like the man’s looks any too well. He watches us
from time to time as if he meant to play us some sort of mean trick. We
must keep our eyes open, or something not down on the bills may happen
to us pretty soon.”

FOOTNOTE:

[1] See “Two American Boys with the Allied Armies,” and “Two American
Boys in the French War Trenches.”




CHAPTER II. THE GUN RUNNER.


“But what do you think of the grizzled old chap?” asked Amos, managing
to snatch a look at the skipper as he spoke.

“I can give only a guess at the most,” admitted Jack. “These Greeks
have always been good sailors and regular water-dogs. You know how
we have read about their exploits in ancient history. Scylla and
Charybdis, the rock and the whirlpool, were among their most feared
enemies, not to speak of the mermaids, who combed their long hair and
sang to the sailors, trying to entice them to drop overboard and make
love to them. As for Captain Zenos, I’m afraid he’s something of a bold
adventurer.”

“I’ve thought, myself, he had the free-and-easy look of a regular
buccaneer, with those rings in his ears, and that red handkerchief
about his head,” said Amos. “As long as he carried out his contract
with us I made up my mind it was really no business of ours, even if he
turned out to be a pirate.”

“But watch him look over this way every little while, and you’ll feel
that he’s got us on his mind. I think, Amos, he’s concluded we’re
English boys, and, as some of these Greek sailors are apt to be hand in
glove with the Turks, perhaps he may be plotting to hand us over to the
enemy, expecting to profit thereby.”

“Whew! I wonder now!” whiffed Amos, as though the idea rather staggered
him.

“Of course, as I said before, it’s pretty much all guess work with
me,” Jack repeated, “but I’ve been fairly successful in reading faces.
Honestly, if you asked me what I thought of our skipper, I’d say he
might be a man who would turn on his best friend, if the pay was big
enough.”

“I wish we knew the truth,” muttered Amos. “We might do something
to put a peg in his nice little game. Each of us is carrying a
shooting-iron now, for self-defense, even though we decided not to go
armed when near the firing line, for fear of being roughly handled in
case we fell into the hands of the Germans, as almost happened several
times.”

“We must keep on our guard and watch out for treachery,” said Jack.
“This happens to be one of those times when ‘an ounce of prevention is
better than a pound of cure.’”

“Yes, and I’ll match your proverb with another when I say that
‘forewarned is forearmed.’ If that old chap wants to get the better of
two wide-awake American boys like us he must rise pretty early in the
morning, that’s all.”

“Listen, Amos. I was just wondering what sort of a cargo they have down
below.”

“Well, up to this minute, I’ve never bothered my head about that part
of it,” admitted the other. “All I knew was that it’s carefully covered
over with tarpaulins, so that the water can’t get at it. I took it for
granted they were carrying bags of flour, or something in the way of
food, to Smyrna, and would fetch back figs or oranges, or some other
fruit grown around there.”

“It might turn out we’d be able to get a line on Captain Zenos if
only we knew what his cargo consisted of,” suggested Jack, softly yet
significantly.

Amos started, and looked into his chum’s blue eyes.

“Ginger! does that mean you suspect him of being what might be called a
blockade runner?” he asked in a hushed tone.

“Something along those lines,” asserted Jack. “Look him over again
and tell me if you could ever imagine a better specimen of a daring
adventurer. Doesn’t his every movement and expression say that Captain
Zenos has spent the better part of his life dodging customs officers as
a smuggler, or something like that?”

“Honest, Jack, I do believe you are right. Now that you’ve mentioned
it, I think of several things I’ve noticed, and I agree with you. The
old Greek skipper has all the ear-marks of a bold adventurer. The
chances are he’s as unscrupulous as he is daring.”

“Then it strikes me we ought to be doing something before it’s too
late, so as to find out what sort of a boat we’ve taken passage on,”
Jack suggested, quietly.

“By demanding that he tell us, do you mean?” asked Amos.

“Well, hardly,” came the reply. “That would only hurry him along, I’m
afraid. But there’s another way to find out. I might watch my chance
and make an effort to see what lies under those snug tarpaulins down
below!”

Amos gave a slight whistle, which was one of his customary ways of
indicating surprise.

“Not a bad scheme, Jack, sure it isn’t, only I don’t see why you
wouldn’t let me do the prowling around.”

“It was my idea, and you must expect me to be the one to do the job,”
he was told, although at the same time Jack favored him with a smile of
appreciation, for he knew just how willing Amos always was to undertake
any manner of task, regardless of the labor involved or the peril that
threatened.

“If, as you suspect, they turn out to be blockade runners, Jack,
perhaps they mean to hide behind that island yonder until dark comes
on, when they can slip past the torpedo-boat lines, and land their
stuff.”

“As like as not,” agreed Jack. “As there’s no time to be lost, I reckon
I might slip my cable right now while they’re all so busy up forward,
and see if it’s possible to get a line on that mysterious cargo.”

“Good luck to you then,” Amos told him. “But before you go, give
me some idea of what you want me to do in case I learn the captain
suspects you and acts.”

“I hope that isn’t going to happen,” said Jack. “It would precipitate
a crisis. I’d rather wait until it gets dark, when we might manage to
slip the boat loose they are towing behind, and get to the land in it.”

“But what if discovery _does_ come about?” persisted Amos.

“In that case there’s only one thing for you to do,” explained Jack;
“stop the captain from coming down on top of me, even if you have
to cover him with your gun. Then give our old signal, and I’ll be
alongside in a jiffy.”

“All right, I’ll remember, though, like you, I certainly hope he
won’t notice your absence, or, if he does, he may think you’ve just
stepped back in the little cabin for something. I say that, to tell
you the honest truth, I don’t like the idea of trying to offstand that
ferocious sea-dog. He might rush me, and then I’d have to pull trigger,
you know. So-long, Jack. Be back as soon as you can.”

“You may depend on that,” he was told, and with that Jack disappeared.

Amos continued to stand there, using the glass, and, occasionally, when
he thought the skipper might be looking his way, he would turn and
speak as though conversing with his chum, who apparently was lying down
and beyond the range of Captain Zenos’ vision.

It was really very cleverly arranged by Amos, and did him much credit.
Possibly only for this scheme he put into play the skipper may have
become suspicious and advanced toward him to learn where Jack had gone
to, which act would have precipitated a crisis.

A few minutes passed.

Amos had become intensely interested in a black smudge which, through
his powerful binoculars, he had just discovered on the horizon. He
found himself wondering what kind of vessel was leaving that low trail
of smoke behind it. Was it a dreadnaught carrying the British Union
Jack or just a transport bearing more forces of the Allies to help
beat a way through the rock-bound strait that barred the route to
Constantinople?

The captain and crew were still engaged forward, though occasionally
the former would think to glance in the direction where his young
passenger stood, glass in hand. Amos never forgot to carry out his
scheme and make a great show of speaking to some one close by.

He had reason to believe that the little game quite deceived the
skipper, for, to the boy’s relief, Captain Zenos made no effort to
approach him on some plea or other, but really to investigate.

Why was Jack so long, Amos asked himself, and then decided it was his
own impatience that made the seconds seem like minutes. Jack had to
proceed with a due amount of caution; and, having accomplished his
purpose, he might be expected back at any time now.

Even as Amos told himself this he heard a slight movement behind him,
and, turning, discovered his chum. The first thing that struck him as
particularly suggestive was the sober look on Jack’s face.

“He has found something out, that’s sure,” Amos told himself, with a
sensation akin to a shiver running over his system; but it was the
thrill of excitement and not fear that caused him to grit his teeth in
expectancy.

In another minute Jack was beside him again.

“Give me the glass, and be pointing something out,” said the latter.
“He’s watching us. Yes, I can see that smoke low down on the horizon;
and the chances are it’s made by a British battleship going to or
coming from the island where we understand they do all their repairs
after being struck and damaged.”

“Did you find out anything?” asked the eager Amos.

“I sure did,” he was told.

“And the cargo they’ve got hidden under the canvas tarpaulins, Jack?”

“Consists of guns and ammunition, as well as big shells, Amos! Fact is,
we’re aboard a gun runner carrying arms to the Turks!”




CHAPTER III. THE THREATENING PERIL.


The importance of the news rather staggered Amos. He held his breath
for nearly half a minute before venturing to say anything.

“That sounds pretty lively, take it from me, Jack. Guns and shells, you
say, for the Turks on Gallipoli Peninsula?”

“Yes, and there’s much ammunition besides, powder and rifle cartridges.
They must be using those up at a terribly rapid rate,” declared Jack.

“If a lighted match happened to be thrown carelessly under that lot of
tarpaulins, an explosion would follow, eh, Jack?”

“I guess what’s passing through that rapid-fire brain of yours, Amos,
but unless we’re attacked we really have no right to do anything as
serious as that. You must remember that we’re neutral in this war.”

“Huh! we may be so far as the Germans and Austrians are concerned,”
grumbled Amos, “but it’s a different thing with the Turks. Every hand
in Europe has at times been raised against them. England saved them
from being kicked out of Constantinople more than once. And when I see
British and French soldiers scrapping with the dark-skinned Turk, I’m
just _bound_ to take sides, no matter what anybody says.”

“It must be in the blood,” admitted Jack. “Like father, like son, and
after all you’ve got the soldier’s instinct handed down to you.”

“But tell me, Jack, if you’ve guessed it by now, why should the Greeks
want to send all this ammunition over there, when the chances are
before long they’ll be in the swim, too, and with the Allies as side
partners?”

“Oh! it isn’t the Greeks as a people who do this underhand business,”
the other explained. “You’ll always find some men ready to take risks
when they see a big profit in the gun-running game. You know, Germany
hasn’t been able to get as much ammunition across Roumania and Bulgaria
as the Turks need; and so some of the German secret agents in Greece
have organized a regular fleet of these big powerboats to carry cargoes
through the lines of the Allies.”

“If they’re held up it would be a bad job for the skippers I reckon,
Jack?”

“No question about it. They might be stood against a wall and shot.”

“But if the captain had this big game up his sleeve,” questioned Amos,
who always wanted an explanation, “why should he bother taking a couple
of American boys aboard, and perhaps spoil his other work?”

“The big sum we offered tempted him in the first place, I suppose,”
explained Jack. “Then, with a crew of seven men, not counting himself,
he took it for granted they could do what they liked with us.”

“You mean chuck us ashore on some measly little island in this Ægean
Sea, to be marooned, goodness knows for how long?” suggested Amos.

“Perhaps that was the plan, and the island ahead of us the place
selected for carrying out the plot. But Amos, for all we know he may
have figured on taking us as prisoners ashore on the Peninsula, and
handing us over to the Turks as English boys.”

“The dickens you say!” grumbled Amos, shaking his head, upset by the
thought. “If I felt sure he had that idea passing through his head, I’d
say we ought to do something to foil his plans, and right away in the
bargain.”

“Well, I’ve evolved a scheme that may give us the boat,” was the
staggering remark made by Jack. It fairly took Amos’ breath away.

“Then let me hear it, please, Jack. They’re still working in the bow
there, and we’ve got some time to ourselves. The man at the wheel keeps
us heading in the direction of that island, and it’s got something
to do with their plans. They mean to either drop us ashore there and
maroon us, or else lie to behind until the night wears on, when they
can slip past the guard line of patrol boats.”

“When I was down below,” explained Jack, “it struck me what a commotion
there would be aboard if smoke was suddenly discovered coming up out
of the hold!”

“Oh! my stars! I should say so!” gasped Amos, looking startled. “If, as
you say, the cargo is made up of high explosives, we would be shot up
into the clouds, and none of us would ever know what had happened. But
are you thinking of blowing up the old boat, Jack?”

“Well, not exactly,” was the reply, “but it might answer the same
purpose if we could make the crew believe they were in danger of being
scattered to the four winds. I think most of them would jump overboard
and start swimming for the island we’re getting so close to.”

Amos began to chuckle. Evidently the humorous side of the thing struck
him fully.

“Say, wouldn’t that be a great joke though, Jack, if we could scare the
bunch into abandoning the boat! Why, what would hinder us from running
it, and in the end turning the stuff over to the Allies?”

“You like the idea, then, do you?” questioned Jack.

“It’s a jolly good scheme, let me tell you, if only it could be worked
out,” Amos assented--not doubtfully, either, for he had infinite faith
in anything his chum attempted to do.

“Leave that part of it to me, Amos. I know just how I can fix things so
that in a short time smoke, heavy, black smoke, will ooze out of the
hold, though there’ll not be the least danger of an explosion.”

“Then, Jack, since we’ve decided that it’s a case of biting or being
bitten, please get busy as quick as you can. I’m fairly wild to see
what happens when that smoke is discovered. We must act as if we’re
half frightened to death, even if we’re not supposed to know the nature
of the cargo under our feet.”

Jack took another look around him. The island came in for a
considerable share of his attention, for if there was to be a sudden
exodus of captain and crew belonging to the powerboat, that was the
only place to which they could go.

The afternoon was near its end and already the shades of approaching
night had commenced to creep forth. He could see some slender masts
outlined against the sky-line above one part of the land, and concluded
there must be a small bay there, possibly a Greek village, and in which
shelter from the storms that sweep the Mediterranean in the spring
season of the year, these small fishing boats might be safe from damage.

“Listen!” cautioned Amos.

Both of them strained their ears to catch the distant grumble as of
thunder that came over the water.

“It seems to come from the northeast, as near as I can make it out,”
remarked Jack, presently.

“It must be the sound of the monster guns of a dreadnaught engaging
some of the Turkish batteries or forts along the Dardanelles,” ventured
the second lad.

“As like as not we’re listening to the sixteen-inch guns carried by the
super-dreadnaught _Queen Elizabeth_,” admitted Jack. “I forget how many
dozen miles they claim you can hear the sound, but it’s a long ways.
Mark the location well, Amos.”

“That’s right,” added the other, with a wide smile, “because if later
on we do the piloting of this craft we’ll want to know our course,
so as to strike the line of guard-ships off the end of the Gallipoli
Peninsula.”

They stood and listened as the strange complaining grumble came
stealing again over the swelling sea. Perhaps, in that moment, both
boys could see, in imagination, the great battleship wreathed in smoke
after the discharge of a monster gun. Somehow the very thought thrilled
them, for they had been anticipating just such a sight as this for some
time now.

“Well, we may never have another chance as good as this,” remarked
Jack, presently, in a singularly calm voice, which showed how
completely he had control of his nerves; “so, perhaps, I’d better be
‘making hay while the sun shines.’”

“You’re away off there, Jack, because the sun has dropped behind the
level horizon, and there’s only a glow to tell where he vanished. I’ll
stand guard here and see that no one surprises you at work. But for the
life of me I can’t guess how you’re going to make smoke, and run no
danger of fire.”

“Oh! that’s easy,” chuckled Jack. “I’ve made too many a smudge to keep
the skeeters off when in the open not to know the ropes. Just wait and
see what happens.”

He was gone almost as soon as he had spoken the last word, and once
more Amos began to sweep the horizon with his binoculars, as though
eager to pick up some distant spot that would prove to be a vessel. It
was becoming more and more difficult to make anything out, on account
of the haze that extended with the coming of evening; but as we know,
the main object Amos had in mind was to deceive the skipper, whenever
he glanced that way.

Fainter grew the glow in the western sky. The far-off booming had
also died away, so the only sounds that reached his ear consisted of
the loud voice of the Greek captain berating his men for not doing
something as he wished it.

Jack had been gone some little time, and Amos began to worry about
him. It would really be too bad if, after all, the plan which he had
considered so brilliant should be ruined by a sudden movement on the
part of the skipper. They were nearly through their job, whatever it
was, and the captain as well as the man who attended to all the cooking
were likely to approach Amos.

If they saw Jack come up out of the hold they would instantly guess he
had been prying around down there and making discoveries that had not
been intended for the eyes of the two young passengers.

“Gee! I wish he would hurry,” Amos kept saying to himself, as he
shifted his weight from one foot to the other, then looked around to
see if Captain Zenos was observing him, and upon finding that it was
so, immediately pointed off somewhere as though showing his chum some
object the glass had brought to his attention.

Just when Amos was giving up all hope of their being able to carry out
the little scheme, once more he heard a rustling sound close by, and
knew that Jack had crawled up out of the open hatch.

Fortunately this gap could not be seen by those forward, nor was the
man at the wheel able to keep his eye upon it, thanks to a stack of
empty crates that were possibly being returned to fruit shippers around
Smyrna--at least that was what the boys had been told, though they now
believed it to be a mere subterfuge calculated to divert suspicion from
the real errand of the big Greek powerboat.

Jack was breathing hard as though he had rushed matters somewhat. Amos
felt glad to have his chum once more at his right hand, for he had come
to depend on the executive ability of Jack more than ever of late.

“Is the train laid, you black conspirator?” he asked eagerly.

“Yes, and given five minutes more you’ll see it come up with a rush,”
he was told by Jack.

“All I can say is that you beat the Dutch when it comes to arranging
things like this. And, Jack, whether the skipper comes back here or not
doesn’t matter much any more, does it?”

“I think that’s just what is going to happen before many minutes,”
announced the late hard worker, as he wiped his forehead, as the
evening was warm. “Come, while we have half a chance, let’s move
further away from the hatch. I’d like to be well off when the discovery
is made that the boat’s afire!”

“Whew! I bet there’s going to be a whole lot of excitement around here
to the square inch before long,” muttered Amos. “I’m going to whoop it
up good and hearty too, when the row begins. The more noise we make the
bigger will be the scare, it strikes me.”

They managed to edge along a little at a time, when no one was looking,
so that presently they were able to come to a stand further away from
the open hatch, from the edge of the coaming of which the cargo,
covered with heavy tarpaulins, could be seen below.

“They’re making a move now, as if they meant to scatter,” reported Amos.

“Yes, and the captain together with the cook have started this way,”
Jack ventured. “Look for something not down on the bills to happen at
any second, for I reckon my smudge is about due to show itself all at
once.”

Amos tried hard to suppress his feelings. He was afraid those keen orbs
of the old Greek skipper might read the secret in his glowing eyes,
so he once again clapped the glasses up to his face and appeared to
be scanning the sea beyond the nearby island as though in search of
something.

Still he knew when the captain and the cook drew near the spot where he
and his chum stood. If only the discovery might be made just at that
critical moment, Amos believed it would count for a good deal more than
if they were forced to call out a little later and bring the skipper on
deck.

All at once he heard a loud outcry. It was the cook who uttered it, and
as the two boys turned quickly to see what he meant they discovered
the sailor pointing toward the open hatch, his whole manner telling of
sudden fear.

Then the boys whirled around to see what had so startled the sailor,
who knew the explosive character of the cargo in the hold, since not
even a lighted pipe had been allowed near the opening.

Well, Jack’s plan had apparently worked all right, for out of the hold
rolled a curling billow of black smoke. How Jack had contrived to
create all this Amos could not for the life of him understand; nor was
that the time or place to ask questions. He simply remembered what he
had said his plan would be, and at sight of that column of smoke he let
out a yell that would have shamed some of those wild cowboy friends
with whom Jack, mounted on half-tamed bronchos, once upon a time had
been wont to race over the plains.




CHAPTER IV. HOW THE TRICK WORKED.


“Fire! Fire!” whooped Amos, showing the most intense excitement, for if
there was any chance to add to the confusion of the moment he meant to
do it.

He had but one object in view, which was to so fill the Greek crew with
consternation that they would, to a man, leap overboard, and leave the
apparently doomed vessel to their erstwhile passengers.

The plan began immediately to show signs of bearing fruit. As has been
said before, the crew knew full well what sort of a dangerous cargo
they were carrying. High explosives have a habit of going off when
brought in contact with a tongue of flame. When, therefore, they saw
the black smoke pouring out of the hold their first thought was that,
in a few seconds, there would come a terrific crash, and the powerboat
would be scattered in atoms over the surface of the sea.

Their loud cries of alarm rang out, as the boys had anticipated. One
who by some chance was close to the rail instantly plunged overboard,
vanishing under the water like a stone, and doubtless bent on keeping
there as long as he could hold his breath, meanwhile swimming
desperately away from the still moving craft.

A second and yet a third man saw him go, and evidently thought that the
only way out of the fix, for they started to imitate his example.

Not so the skipper, who was evidently made of different stuff. The boys
in commenting on his determined looks had not guessed far from wrong
when they decided that Captain Zenos was a reckless customer who had
run many a blockade for the sake of gain, just as he was now trying
to get guns and ammunition to the sorely pressed Turks on Gallipoli
Peninsula.

He saw the smoke just as soon as the rest of the crew, but instead of
thinking of his safety, the old sea dog’s first idea was to try and
save the boat and cargo, even at great personal risk.

What he shouted in his lion-like voice the boys did not know, not
being proficient Greek scholars. They could give a pretty good guess,
however, that he was roaring out orders to his men to follow him into
the hold and try to put out the fire that had so mysteriously broken
out when they were off their guard.

He made direct for the open hatch from which that dense smoke oozed.
Three men followed on his heels, being possibly the possessors of the
same reckless nature as himself, or else descendants of those old-time
Spartans who would obey orders from their superiors blindly, no matter
if they had to charge into the very jaws of death.

Jack was observing all this with the most intense interest. He even
noted that the man at the wheel stuck to his duty. From this fact he
supposed the skipper had not forgotten him when roaring out his orders,
and that he had been directed to stay where he was, come what may.

There were three in the water by now, and doubtless all making
desperately for the nearby shore of the island, anxious to put many
fathoms between themselves and the doomed craft before the terrible
explosion came.

Captain Zenos snatched up a bucket that stood near. Leaning over the
rail he flung it downward and once more he drew it up filled to the
brim with salt water.

Each of the three sailors followed his example with exact precision,
like men who knew the value of obedience in an emergency. By this time
the skipper had reached the open hatch. That dense smoke showed no
signs of abating; in fact, if anything, it was oozing forth in greater
volume than ever, thanks to Jack’s clever arrangements below.

[Illustration: That dense smoke showed no signs of abating.--_Page 44_]

One last look the valiant skipper gave around, as if to make sure that
his crew had not entirely deserted him. Then without the slightest
hesitation he plunged into the opening and vanished from view.

Jack and Amos could not repress cries of sincere admiration. If they
had from some instinctive reason disliked the battle-scarred old
veteran of the blockade and gun-running game, they now admired his
great nerve. Evidently, with all his faults, and they were many,
Captain Zenos could never be accused of cowardice.

One, two, three figures took the drop after him, not one of the trio
showing the slightest hesitation. Perhaps these men had long been
associated with the owner of the big powerboat, and imbibed a full
share of his daring.

The tail-end man did take a look around before dropping out of sight,
and Jack imagined he felt he might be saying good-by to the bright
world, for it certainly did seem as though the chances were ten to one
they might never come forth again.

As far as it went this was all very fine. Three were in the water
madly racing for the shore of the island; another trio had accompanied
the leader below; and the last member of the crew stood by the wheel,
though the speed of the boat had been reduced until she was now
beginning to pass but slowly through the twilight sea.

But Jack realized that as soon as those groping through the dense smoke
below found that its source lay in a galvanized bucket, and that the
smudge had apparently been created for some distinct purpose, their
suspicions would be immediately aroused.

Since they would speedily come pouring forth as furious as could be and
turn upon the two boys for an explanation of the trick, it was up to
Jack and Amos to prevent such an unhappy consummation.

“The hatch--we must clap it on, and batten the same down!” cried Jack.

Even as he spoke he was jumping toward the smoke cloud, with Amos close
at his heels. What few words Jack had spoken revealed the plan of
campaign to his comrade, who was only too ready to assist in the deal.

The man at the wheel must have stared hard at seeing the two boys thus
start forward instead of jumping overboard like those others had
done. Perhaps he even gave them credit for the same species of sublime
courage that the skipper possessed. When, presently, he saw what they
were doing, astonishment kept him from trying to interfere until it was
too late to do any good.

Seizing hold of the heavy hatch, the two boys managed to throw it into
place. There was means for securing it so that even if great waves
swept over the low deck of the powerboat they could hardly tear the
hatch loose, and flood the hold.

Thanks to his habit of observation, Jack knew all about this, and also
how the fastenings were applied. Amos, taking his cue from his comrade,
also gave such assistance as lay in his power; and between them they
speedily managed to accomplish their desired end.

Hardly had they succeeded in doing this than there came heavy pounding
on the other side of the hatch. Evidently the skipper had learned how
he had been made the victim of what he would call a “scurvy trick”;
and was fairly wild to force a way out of the hold, so that he could
punish those responsible for it.

Jack had not forgotten the man at the wheel, who had it in his power,
should the inclination come to him, to injure the engine of the boat in
some way, so as to prevent any further progress.

As this would be greatly to the disadvantage of the two comrades, Jack
did not mean to permit the man to have the least chance of carrying out
his intention.

Leaving Amos standing by the battened hatch, pistol in hand, Jack
rushed straight toward the man at the wheel. He covered him with his
weapon, and, under the belief that the fellow knew English, for he had
conversed with several of the crew before then, the boy called out
sternly:

“Stay where you are, and hold the wheel, and no injury will come to
you. There is no fire and we will not be blown up. It was a trick to
get the captain down in the hold. He is our prisoner, and we expect to
run this boat from now on. Do you understand what I am saying?”

The sailor looked a little dazed as though events were happening with
such wonderful rapidity that he could hardly keep track of them. Still
he seemed to be able to understand English, especially when accompanied
by the significant gestures Jack was making with the little automatic
pistol.

He immediately elevated his right hand. That was doubtless intended to
show his willingness to submit to whatever fate the daring captors of
the powerboat felt inclined to impose upon him.

“Start up the engine again and keep it going full speed!” was the first
order the new skipper gave the pilot.

Presently the boat began to pick up, as the propeller churned the
water. It felt good to Amos, standing there and listening to the
terrific pounding on the lower side of the hatch. He took off his hat
and waved it about his head as he gave a loud, boyish hurrah that came
from the depths of his heart.

No doubt that organ was pounding against his ribs with the furious
energy of a trip-hammer; but apparently the danger point had been
safely passed, and they had a free course open before them.

The three men who jumped overboard had meanwhile managed to reach
shallow water. They were standing, up to their waists in the sea, at
what they considered a safe distance from the powerboat, staring at the
now moving craft as though unable to believe their eyes.

The smoke had ceased coming up from the hold as soon as the hatch was
clapped on, and, with the starting of the engine, the boat showed
signs of leaving the unfortunate trio in the lurch--at least they must
have considered themselves in a bad box at the time, though later
developments proved that they were exceedingly fortunate.

Loud rang out their shouts as they made all sorts of wild gestures,
imploring their companions not to desert them. Perhaps the simple
fellows, not aware of the dramatic acts that were taking place aboard
the boat, imagined the skipper meant to discipline them for deserting
when there was need of their services.

Amos waved his hand hilariously toward the three. He was feeling in a
merry mood. The bright scheme which Jack originated had turned out so
successful!

One look gave Jack his course, and he impressed it upon the pilot.

“We want to head straight as an arrow for the Dardanelles,” he said
sternly. “You will be all right as long as you behave, but the first
sign of treachery and it means your end. Our lives are at stake now and
we will shoot you down like a dog if you turn on us. We want to run
across some warship of the Allies, to whom this boat and its cargo can
be surrendered. And if you behave we will guarantee that you are let go
free. Get that?”

The man had listened intently, watching every gesture made by Jack.
At the conclusion of the short harangue he nodded his head and even
allowed a grim smile to flit athwart his dark face. Being a daring chap
himself he could admire an exhibition of American pluck such as the
two boys were displaying. Anyone who managed to get the better of a sly
old sea-dog like Captain Zenos must be pretty wide-awake, according to
his opinion.

“I play you the game straight, I promise you!” he assured Jack, who,
however, did not take his word for it, knowing how treacherous some men
can be when conditions change; and he meant to keep the Greek pilot
under constant surveillance until their plans had been fully carried
out.




CHAPTER V. CONTRABAND OF WAR.


“What’s the next move on the program, Jack?” asked Amos, as he hurried
over to the side of his chum, while the pounding on the hatch kept up
furiously.

“I’ve given the course to the man at the wheel, and told him we will
shoot at the first sign of treachery,” replied the other.

“That sounds good to me!” Amos declared. “Do you think we can keep on
into the night, and come slap up against any of those war vessels?”

“I know the points of the compass,” he was told. “I’ve also got a
chart of this sea, as well as the Dardanelles, so I don’t see why we
shouldn’t be able to keep up a straight course. We know about where
we’re headed, and I’m in hopes of picking up the searchlight of some
battleship that is on the move to keep from being torpedoed.”

“I’m willing to trust everything to you, Jack. How about those chaps
below decks? If they should ever break loose there will be trouble
right away!”

“It’s a part of our business to make sure they don’t break loose then,”
the other remarked, firmly. “I’m going to tell Captain Zenos something.
He’s got common-sense, I reckon, even if he is a fire-eater.”

“All I’m afraid of is that he may take a crazy notion to strike a match
and blow up the boat rather than surrender it,” said Amos, uneasily.

Even that prospect did not seem to alarm steady-going Jack.

“Don’t worry,” he told his companion. “Few men ever deliberately
sacrifice themselves in order to bring about the downfall of others.
In forty-nine cases out of fifty a would-be assassin of royalty takes
precious good care to look out for a safe getaway. That is what defeats
their plans so often.”

“I guess you’re right about that, Jack,” admitted Amos. “I’ve read so
along the same line. They say that if a man is firmly decided to give
up his own life to the cause, all the precautions in the wide world
couldn’t prevent any ruler from getting his finish.”

“Remember what we had last spring in our history class about that
general besieging ancient Rome, and who had a young Roman brought
before him, caught in the camp. The youth told him he was one of a
hundred who had sworn to take the life of the vandal general; and to
show his fearless nature, thrust his hand into a fire and held it there
until it was consumed.”

“Sure, I remember that,” said Amos, “and the general, knowing that
he was a doomed man if he stayed around there much longer, with
ninety-nine other young Romans after his life, all built on the same
fearless model, soon found it convenient to call off the siege and go
home.”

“Well, after I’ve explained to Captain Zenos that he will surely be
given his liberty later on, any intention of blowing up the boat he
may be entertaining will have passed away. Bold man that he is, all
the same he can believe that ‘he who fights and runs away may live
to fight another day.’ Now, you stand here and watch our pilot every
second of the time, while I speak to the skipper.”

Jack bent down when he reached the hatch. The pounding continued, and
was supplemented by loud cries from the men below.

With a monkey-wrench he had picked up on the way, Jack started to
himself give a few powerful blows upon the hatch. Immediately the noise
below ceased.

“Hello! Captain Zenos!” the boy called out, knowing that the other
could speak English as well as his own native tongue, for he was a man
who had traveled over pretty much all the world.

“Who is that speaking?” he heard a grumbling voice say.

“It is one of your passengers,” answered Jack. “We have captured your
vessel and part of your crew has been left behind, having landed on the
island. The rest is below with you.”

“But who are you, and what does this mean?” demanded the bewildered
captain.

“Just what we told you we are, two American boys who are looking for
some one who is with the Allies at the Dardanelles,” Jack explained.

“Why have you done this?” continued the prisoner of the hold.

“Because we believed you meant us harm, and we decided to strike first.
So I made the smudge below in order to cause the crew to leap overboard
and abandon the craft. But you were too brave a man to be frightened,
and we had to shut you down below or lose the game. I want to make a
bargain with you, Captain.”

The man waited some little time before replying. Evidently he was
trying to get a firm grip on the conditions by which he was surrounded,
so that he could play his best card. Then he called out again as though
in anger.

“Do you know what I have a good mind to do, boy? I have matches with me
here, and the powder can be easily reached. One match would be enough
to finish us all, and we could go into glory together.”

“I understand that, Captain,” said Jack, coolly, as though not a bit
afraid the other would put his threat into execution. “We are willing
to take our chances. You would be a fool to end your life that way when
you can live to enjoy other exploits.”

“But if I fall into the hands of the British they will surely shoot
me!” urged the man below.

“I give you my word of honor that they will let you and your men go
free, on condition that you do nothing to injure the boat or the cargo.
Is it a bargain, Captain Zenos? We are both armed, and will hesitate
at nothing, even should you succeed in breaking loose, which we do not
mean to have happen. Be reasonable, and, after all, you will lose only
your boat. There are other craft to be had for money, but no one can
get a second life, you know, if he loses the one he has.”

Jack heard the man actually laugh harshly. He believed he had gone
about it the right way to get results.

“You are certainly a boy after my own heart, and since there does not
seem to be any other thing to do, I agree to your terms,” the captain
called out. “Only I trust you will not deceive us. If I thought I might
be held as a prisoner of war, or stood up to be shot, nothing would
keep me from striking a match and ending it all now.”

“I have given you my word of honor, Captain; that is all I can do,”
Jack told him, a little anxious still, for he knew the man was a
reckless blade, and after all he might act on a sudden whim.

“Well, let it be a bargain then,” called the skipper; “but I hope you
will not keep us many hours down in this hot hold. We would smother, I
fear.”

“Inside of a couple of hours we hope to run across some war vessel,
when you will be released and allowed to enter the small boat to make
for the shore just as you please.”

Satisfied that he had accomplished the purpose he had in view, Jack
turned away. He knew that those below could hardly break out of their
confinement within a certain length of time, at least, and, while he
did not mean to forget them, he wished to turn his attention to another
quarter.

It was getting dark. The twilight had fled, and it was no longer
possible to see for any distance over the heaving surface of the sea.
The island where the men had landed was far astern, and looked like a
dark blot amidst the gathering gloom.

Glancing aloft, Jack could see the first stars beginning to appear. He
took his bearings in this way, and as long as those heavenly lanterns
remained in sight there would be no fear of their going astray. He had
tramped many a time across trackless wastes of land with only a star to
guide him; he felt the same confidence when upon the sea.

“We must first of all see to the lights,” he told Amos as he joined
him. “With all these dangers hanging over our heads it would be silly
to think of keeping in the dark.”

“Let me look after them,” said Amos. “I watched the man who did the job
last night, and I think I’ve got it all down pat.”

“After you’ve finished with the lights, Amos, it might be as well to
rummage around and stir up something to eat. I’m as hungry as a wolf.
There must be food aboard, of course.”

“Trust me for knowing where it’s kept,” chuckled the other. “I never
mean to be starved to death if keeping my eyes wide open will prevent
it. Sure, there’s plenty of grub close by. Watch me rustle it out when
the time comes.”

He soon had the lanterns lighted; one hung to show the figure of the
helmsman as he stood there at the wheel and guided the boat; and two
others, the one red and the other green, on either side of the boat, so
that they might not be run down in the gloom of night.

After this had all been attended to, Amos, true to his promise, washed
his hands in the tin basin so as to free them from the kerosene odor,
and then proceeded to produce all manner of food from the cook’s little
galley.

They made no attempt to cook anything, for the conditions would not
allow of their going to such trouble. Hungry boys are as a rule not at
all particular about the quality of their food, so long as the quantity
is right; and not a single complaint was made regarding that supper,
though it was crude in its appointments, and eaten under strange
surroundings.

Even the man at the wheel was remembered, and thankfully received a
portion of the simple spread, which he proceeded to devour as though he
might be no longer troubling himself about the immediate future.

“Now for a long and weary watch,” said Amos, after only half an hour or
more had elapsed since the capture of the powerboat.

“It may not be as long as you think,” remarked Jack.

“Why do you say that, Jack? Is it just on general principles, or have
you some idea?”

“Well, we are making all of ten miles an hour, it strikes me,” was the
answer; “and when twice that time has passed you can see we ought to be
somewhere near that battleship we heard firing. Besides, I soon expect
to catch sight of their searchlights playing every-which-way.”

“That’s so, Jack,” admitted Amos, immediately convinced. “When warships
are in a dangerous locality, and there’s danger all the time of
torpedoes, as well as floating mines, I reckon they do keep their
searchlights busy all the night in order to discover any creeping
enemy.”

“They know these Turks to be clever schemers,” added Jack, “and bold in
the bargain, so they keep on the lookout all the time.”

“Then, if we’re discovered, what’s our program going to be, Jack?”

“We want to get busy right away and run up a white flag, to show
that we mean to make no resistance. Then they’ll likely send a boat,
and board as we lie to. We can surrender the cargo to the officer in
charge, first of all asking him to make good our word to Captain Zenos
and his crew.”

“Perhaps, to make doubly sure, we might let them take to the small boat
and skip out before we surrender the vessel,” suggested Amos.

“Now that isn’t a bad scheme, if it can be worked,” admitted Jack. “The
Allies might want to hold these men and I’d hate to have my promise
broken.”

They sat there for a long time, now and then exchanging a few sentences
or going about to make sure there was no danger of the hatch being
pried up, thus allowing the prisoners of the hold to escape and make
trouble.

Then what Jack had long been expecting came about. A white shaft of
light suddenly shot out of the darkness and began to move along,
swiftly covering considerable space, and revealing the choppy waves as
though in broad daylight. It was the powerful searchlight on board some
war-vessel, possibly a battleship of the Allied fleet.




CHAPTER VI. IN THE GLOW OF THE SEARCHLIGHT.


Jack had their course changed a trifle so as to bear direct for the
source of that long ray of brilliant light.

“See if you can find a sheet, or anything white, that can be fastened
up to show we do not mean to offer resistance,” he told Amos, who soon
had the “flag of truce,” as he called it, in place.

“Seems to me, Jack, that if we mean to give the captain his chance to
get away we ought to be doing it before that light gets us,” suggested
Amos, when he had once more joined his chum.

“It is a bit dangerous,” the other admitted, “but if worked right, it
might be done.”

“We could let them come up, one at a time, and climb into the boat,
after we made sure they carried no weapons,” suggested Amos.

Jack weighed the chances. To be on the safe side he knew they would be
wise to let things go as they were and trust to the officer on the
boarding boat to let them keep their word to the men. Jack thought
a good deal of his word, which, once given, he would dislike to see
broken.

“I guess Captain Zenos must be a well-known character among the
commanders of the Allied vessels,” he mused. “As he’s probably run more
than a few cargoes of high explosives past their lines they would like
to wind up his career. You see, he has caused a heap of damage by means
of the shells he’s smuggled across; and they would want to shoot him.
We’ll give him a chance, Amos.”

On his part Amos was not unwilling. Ever since he had seen the utterly
fearless way in which the smuggler and gun-runner had dashed into that
hold, not knowing but what the expected explosion might come at any
second, the boy had conceived a certain amount of admiration for him.

“But we’ve got to be mighty careful, Jack,” he warned the other. “These
men are desperate, and not to be trusted.”

“We’ll risk that, Amos. Now, attend to me, and keep your pistol ready
for use at a second’s notice.”

He pounded on the hatch.

“Hello! down below!” Jack called out.

“What do you want now?” demanded a voice which they recognized as
belonging to the gun-runner captain.

“We are close to the fleet, and, being afraid that they might want to
hold you and your men, we would be willing to let you drop into the
small boat and row away, if you agreed to certain conditions.”

The man on the other side of the closed hatch seemed to ponder over the
proposal. Evidently he realized that the boys meant to do the right
thing, being a little afraid that after having given their promise of
immunity they could not “deliver the goods.”

“I understand what you mean,” he presently called out. “What do you
want us to promise you, lad?”

“First that you will pass up every weapon you have on your persons.
Then, one by one, we will let you come on deck, and get into the boat
towing astern. We will stop the engine so you may have no trouble. When
all are aboard the rope will be cut, and you can lose yourselves in
the darkness. The sea is nearly calm so there need be no trouble about
getting ashore. What do you say? You will have to hurry, for at any
minute now the searchlight will pick us up.”

“What you say sounds to me like you meant to do the right thing,”
called the captain. “Loosen the hatch on one side, and we will hand
over our firearms. Then, as you say, we can crawl out, one by one, and
take our places in the small boat.”

Jack believed that his plan was working out finely. At the same time
not for one moment was he disposed to relax his vigilance. He even
managed to keep the man at the wheel under his eye, as the fellow
easily saw.

They loosened the fastenings of the hatch and raised one side a few
inches. A formidable six-shooter was thrust through, of which Jack
immediately took possession. It was followed by two others, showing
that some of the sailor men had made it a practice to go armed.

“That is all the firearms we have, I give you my word,” said the
captain.

“Then let one of the men creep out, and tell him he must get into the
small boat without losing a second of time. Also warn him, Captain,
that we will shoot at the first sign of treachery.”

Presently a man’s head appeared in view, and then he commenced to
crawl out of the narrow opening. The boys kept him covered, and once
he gained the deck he was made to scuttle along, clamber over the
stern, and take his place in the tender that had been towing behind
all through the voyage. It was amply large enough to hold the five men
without peril of being overcrowded.

No sooner had they disposed of this man than a second was allowed to
come up; after him came the third sailor, with Captain Zenos himself
bringing up the rear.

The daring blockade-runner instantly saw the flash of the searchlight
and must have realized that the American boys meant to treat him
fairly. The loss of his boat may have been a bitter pill for him to
swallow; but he was accustomed to taking things as he found them.

“You have hit me a hard blow,” he told Jack. “If ever I get a chance to
turn the tables on you, I will; but I want to say you are brave boys,
and I admire your pluck. I was always told American boys beat the world
that way. We may meet again some of these days. Good-night!”

With that he, too, clambered over the side and took his place in the
small boat.

“Have you room for one more, Captain?” asked Jack, and upon receiving
an affirmative response he turned to the man at the wheel, saying:
“Here, you, get aboard with the rest. We might as well make a clean
sweep while we’re about it. I’ll take charge of the wheel when we start
again. I know enough about engines to run a tub like this.”

The last of the blockade-runners did not wait upon the order of his
going. He seemed only too well pleased to accompany his chief. The
prospect of being left behind to fall into the hands of the enemy was
not attractive to him.

As soon as this fellow had taken his seat in the boat, Amos, who was
hovering nearby, cast the painter off, and immediately the small craft
fell astern, for the powerboat still had some headway.

“Bully for us!” exclaimed Amos. “We’re now monarch of all we survey,
Jack! And of all the adventures that have come to us since striking
Europe this night is going to stand near the head.”

“Don’t crow,” warned Jack. “The Indian should never shout till he is
in the woods, or the white man till he is out of them. We’ve got some
troubles still ahead of us. I’m going to start up the engine, and keep
moving straight toward that war vessel.”

“I think it must be a battleship, Jack, or a big cruiser, from the size
of the searchlight. Now that I look around I can see a whole lot more
of the same kind of lights roving around further on. Yes, we’ve struck
the battle fleet at anchor as sure as anything. If only Frank is
somewhere close by and safe, I’ll be satisfied.”

Jack had by this time succeeded in getting the engine started. As he
had said, he knew considerable about running engines whether connected
with motorboats, automobiles or motorcycles, having had a fair amount
of experience with them all.

They constantly decreased the distance separating them from the source
of that dazzling light, which for the most part played in the other
direction.

Then all at once it began to circle in their quarter.

“She’s going to hit us, I reckon, Jack!” called out Amos, who stood
forward and eagerly watched every little thing that occurred.

Even as he spoke the glare of the searchlight came in his eyes, causing
him to drop his head. Apparently those aboard had strong glasses and
must have instantly discovered the Greek powerboat, for the light
remained stationary.

“I hope they don’t turn one of those big sixteen-inch guns loose on
us,” ventured Amos, a little uneasily.

“No danger of their wasting a shell on such small game as this boat,”
Jack assured him, “when they have need of all they own to smash the
fortifications of Gallipoli and the Asiatic mainland. I rather guess
we’ll be seeing one of those fleet destroyers dashing this way, to find
out who and what we are.”

“Well, our white rag shows up as plain as daylight, and it ought to
tell that we don’t mean them any harm,” said Amos, relieved; though he
had to immediately laugh at the idea of that miniature boat being a
menace to a super-dreadnaught.

Five minutes later, as they continued to advance, they discovered some
object approaching at furious speed. Then, as it came in range of the
searchlight, the boys saw that it was a torpedo-boat destroyer painted
a gray color that could not be told from the surface of the sea at a
certain distance.

“We’d better pull up, hadn’t we, Jack?” asked Amos. “They’re whooping
it up direct at us. I hope they don’t mean to cut through this poor
boat like a knife would a cheese. Me for the water if it looks that
way, for there might be a great old blow-up if there’s any dynamite
below deck here.”

Jack did shut off the power, although he had no idea anything serious
was impending in the way his companion hinted.

Coming at the rate of thirty miles an hour it did not take the
destroyer long to arrive within hailing distance of the Greek craft.

“I am sending a boat aboard to find out who and what you are, and why
you venture in this forbidden zone!” roared a voice through a megaphone.

“Glad to know it, sir!” called Jack; and possibly the fact that the
words were spoken in clear English must have surprised the commander of
the torpedo-boat not a little.

Immediately the boys discovered a small boat dancing over the waves,
propelled by a motor, and occupied by a number of sailors as well as
an officer. It soon came alongside and one of the men sprang aboard,
after which the officer followed suit.

He stared hard at the two lads as though hardly able to believe his
eyes.

“Where is the crew of this boat?” he asked.

“I’ll tell you,” replied the boy, with a smile. “They originally
consisted of seven Greeks and a captain. His name was Captain Zenos,
and most likely you have heard about him. Three of the crew we left on
an island about fifteen miles or so back there. The rest of them, with
their skipper, we allowed to go off in their small boat, because we had
given them our word of honor they should not be made prisoners of war
if they promised not to blow up the boat when we had them shut down in
the hold.”

The man in uniform leaned forward and took another searching look at
Jack and Amos.

“Do you mean to tell me, boy,” he demanded, as though unable to believe
his ears, “that you two alone and unaided captured Captain Zenos, who
is known to be a dare-devil if ever one lived, and his entire crew of
seven men?”

“We are not boasting, sir, but that is the truth. We knew the hold
was filled with explosives, for I examined it after taking passage
aboard this boat. So we fixed it that smoke issued forth, and this so
frightened some of the crew they jumped overboard. But the captain was
made of better stuff, and with three of his men he went below to put
out the fire or die in the attempt. That was when we clapped on the
hatch, and held them prisoners. It was all easy enough, and things
worked without a single hitch. And now we want to hand this prize of
the gun-runner over to the Allies.”

The officer who had come from the torpedo-boat destroyer held out
his hand impulsively; for he was British and could appreciate valor
wherever he found it.




CHAPTER VII. ABOARD THE BATTLESHIP “THUNDERER.”


“My word! I am delighted to have met such a couple of smart lads, and I
hope to hear the particulars of your story aboard the _Thunderer_, for
you must come back with me to meet the Vice-Admiral. You are English;
that goes without saying.”

Amos chuckled, while Jack shook his head.

“American, sir,” the latter said, briskly, “though our ancestors came
from your tight little island, and also fought you for all they were
worth at Lexington and Bunker Hill.”

“I’m a bit sorry for that, my lad!” exclaimed the lieutenant, “but,
after all, we feel that in this terrible crisis we can count on the
sympathy of all Americans who are not of German descent, for we are
fighting the battles of civilization and true democracy. Pardon me for
saying it, but you know it looks somewhat strange to run across a
couple of American boys over here in the war zone just now.”

That was a gentle hint for them to give some sort of explanation, and
this Jack was quite ready to do.

“We realize that, sir, and can easily explain why it happens. We are
looking for the brother of my chum and cousin here, whose father
earnestly desires to see him once more before he passes away. There is
a sad story back of it, which it is not necessary for me to mention.”

“Certainly not,” asserted the officer, heartily; “and I am sure the
Vice-Admiral will not press you on that score, for he is exceedingly
kind. You have reason to think the young man may be somewhere in this
vicinity?”

“We have every reason to believe it, sir. When we were in London Lord
Kitchener, who is a great friend of my chum’s father, Colonel Turner,
U. S. A., gave us a paper that has been of considerable use to us.
It helped us search through that part of Belgium held by the Allied
armies, and also in Northern France. We learned that Frank Turner
was serving your cause as an aviator, and after just missing him with
General French’s army we discovered that he had been sent out here to
assist in opening the Dardanelles.”

“My word! but I admire your grit in following after him through all the
ruck; but then it is just what might be expected of American boys. I
have a lady cousin in New York who never tires of sounding the praises
of your Boy Scouts, and the wonderful things they do. And a line from
Kitchener of Khartoum would serve as an ‘Open Sesame’ even aboard a
British battleship, I imagine. But please make ready to accompany me so
you may meet the Vice-Admiral.”

“We will be only too glad to do so, sir,” replied Jack. “Of course you
expect to take charge of this gun-runner, for the hold is filled with
all sorts of explosives?”

“A splendid haul!” declared the other. “Its loss will be felt by the
Turks, who are short on ammunition. You deserve many thanks for what
you have done toward assisting the cause.”

“But we might not have considered it our duty to capture the
blockade-runner,” Jack frankly told him, “only that we had good reason
to believe they were plotting to do us bodily harm, or at least abandon
us on some lonely island where we might have heaps of trouble getting
away.”

“You may say that, my lad,” observed the lieutenant pleasantly, “but
nevertheless I am certain that deep down in your hearts you are hand
in glove with our cause. In good time I expect America will speak her
mind, and the Kaiser will discover that ‘hands across the sea’ stand
for no idle words. It will be the whole world _against militarism_, and
_not the German people, whom we admire_.”

The boys did not expect to be aboard the smuggler again, and therefore
they took with them what little luggage they carried. This was very
scanty, because, as Amos put it, they were “going light,” and doing
without a good many things which, as ordinary travelers, they might
have deemed necessary.

In fact, they had long ago learned that it is remarkable how few things
are absolutely indispensable when traveling, and especially with a
couple of rough-and-ready boys, accustomed to looking after themselves.

Once in the small patrol tender of the destroyer they speedily made the
grim-looking little fighter that could cover thirty miles an hour, and
then have a little reserve speed for an emergency.

Aboard this boat they were introduced to the commander, who took
something of the same interest in them as the other officer had done.
It was so remarkable a thing to come upon two American boys under
circumstances like these that he felt a great and pardonable curiosity
to hear something of their story.

Amos, who had by that time recovered his tongue, in particular, was
not averse to obliging him, and rattled off an account of some of the
adventures that had befallen them since crossing over from London and
searching along the battle lines in Belgium for the missing Frank.

When the commander learned that this brother was no other than Frank
Bradford, whose exploits had passed from hand to mouth wherever the
Allies fought, he was doubly charmed. At the same time he expressed the
pious wish that the boys might fail in their mission, because the cause
needed aviators like the daring bird-man, and his loss would mean a big
gap in the ranks.

The questions asked by the commander were principally about how they
came to embark on the powerboat in some Grecian sea town, and what
caused them to decide to try and effect the capture of the lawless
craft. These events would make a brave showing in his report of the
night’s work; for Captain Zenos had long been a thorn in the flesh of
the Allies, carrying many a cargo of arms and explosives past their
lines into Turkish camps.

“I am only sorry he slipped through our fingers this time,” he told the
boys as they drew near the bulky battleship, from which the searchlight
shone upon them, and the small craft followed in their rear, manned
by a prize crew; “but with his vessel gone he may have his services
crippled somewhat. And besides, he may be picked up by one of our scout
boats.”

A short time later Jack and Amos found themselves aboard the
battleship. It certainly gave them a thrill to realize that they
actually trod the deck of one of His Majesty’s big bulldogs of the
navy, a vessel that doubtless daily engaged some of the Turkish
batteries along the shores of the Gallipoli Peninsula or on the
Anatolian mainland.

They were speedily taken into the presence of the Vice-Admiral. He
may have been a gruff sea-dog in the eyes of his men, and known as a
martinet; but he had another and much more genial side to his nature,
which he exhibited to his two young American guests.

Perhaps the magical paper which they made haste to show him, signed
by Kitchener himself, may have had something to do with his amiable
manner, for it was simply wonderful how often that document had helped
them over rough places. He insisted on the boys making themselves
comfortable in his cabin, and begged to hear their whole story,
for already he confessed to being deeply interested in two such
manly-looking cousins from across the sea.

When mention was made of Frank, and how they had discovered that he
was doing remarkable work in the cause of the Allies under the name of
Bradford, the Vice-Admiral showed great interest. He had heard more
or less about the famous flier who bore that name, although thus far
ignorant of the fact that he had joined the aviation corps on duty with
the Dardanelles battle fleet.

“You shall stay aboard our ship temporarily, lads,” he told them later
on, “and I promise you to do my best to locate the party you seek, if
he is indeed out on this station. It is hardly within the rules to have
non-combatants aboard during war times, but that wonderful paper you
carry would be ample excuse for any infraction, since it calls upon
every one in authority to aid you to the best of their ability.”

“You are very kind, Admiral, and we can only thank you, and say we
will accept,” Jack assured him, heartily.

“And it won’t be the first time we’ve bunked in a hammock, either,
sir,” declared Amos, gleefully, for he began to see the troubles ahead
of them vanishing, as had so often been the case in the past.

“I am afraid you will be a little disappointed, then,” the officer told
him; “I could not put you with the crew, for many reasons. It happens,
however, that one of our officers was invalided home, and his place
has not yet been filled, so you must occupy his quarters for the time
being.”

After that he asked many more questions, and seemed greatly interested
in his two young American guests. Doubtless there would be ways to
explain just how they chanced to be aboard the _Thunderer_, despite
all rules and regulations, for a Vice-Admiral is at times a law unto
himself.

Finally Jack and Amos were given into the charge of one of the several
officers who had been in the cabin during the recital of their story,
and all of whom evinced a lively interest in the boys.

“This is something we never dreamed would happen, Jack,” remarked Amos,
when the two found themselves left in the comfortable if snug quarters
assigned to them. “Think of us aboard a regular battleship that has
been in action, and may be again tomorrow, for all we know.”

“We are certainly in great luck,” admitted Jack, yawning sleepily.
“Between you and the lamp-post I like that Vice-Admiral a whole lot.
He may have gained a name as a fighter and all that, but deep down in
his heart he is a fine specimen of a sailor. And to think that he has
several sons of his own, all of them serving their country either in
the army or the navy.”

“Well, I only hope our luck holds good, so that we may see how they
bombard the old Turkish forts,” wished Amos. “We’ve been on the firing
line in Belgium, had a chance to visit the French war trenches, and see
some action there; and if only we could watch the battle fleet at work,
I’d be satisfied.”

“Leave that for another day,” advised Jack, preparing for bed.

Despite all that had come to them of late in the way of excitement,
as well as the peculiar conditions by which they were even then
surrounded, both boys managed to drop asleep soon after their heads
struck the pillows. If the waves arose in the night, and the heavy
battleship wallowed somewhat as she progressed slowly this way and
that, so as to keep on the move, they knew nothing of it, for they had
proved their right of being called good sailors.

When they did awaken they found that the day had come. Yes, and the
vessel was in motion, going at a fair rate of speed. Amos was thrilled
with the thought that there might be something in the wind.

As he hastily dressed, his talk was all in the line of action. He
certainly hoped there was work cut out for the _Thunderer_ that same
day.

“I’m just crazy to hear those big twelve-inch guns boom,” he told his
companion, “though I guess it’ll nearly deafen us at first. We must
find out what the men do to soften the sound. I’ve heard that standing
on your toes helps a whole lot; and then holding your hands over your
ears is a good thing.”

“I’ve got some cotton that we can use to stop our ears up if it’s
necessary, so don’t bother your head about that part of it,” Jack told
him.

Having hastily finished their dressing, the two boys made their way to
the deck. They excited considerable interest among such of the crew as
they met, and unaware of what rank the two young chaps might hold many
of these saluted them as though they were officers.

Looking ahead in the early morning the boys could see the distant jaws
of land that doubtless marked the entrance to the Dardanelles Straits;
numerous other big and little war vessels dotted the surface of the
heaving sea.




CHAPTER VIII. BOMBARDING THE TURKISH FORTS.


“Jack, I do believe they are going in today to engage the Turkish
forts!” exclaimed Amos, after taking a good look around at the stirring
picture.

The sun, not far above the horizon, shone upon the glistening sea,
and in almost every quarter the boys could see war vessels moving
steadily in the direction of the land ahead. There were battleships,
super-dreadnaughts, cruisers, torpedo-boat destroyers and dispatch
boats, all stripped for action and looking in grim earnest as they
moved along in seemingly endless procession.

“I’m a little inclined to say the same thing myself,” Jack announced.
“But no matter whether it happens or not we are in great luck to be
able to set eyes on a glorious picture like this.”

“I’ll never forget it if I live to the age of Methuselah!” affirmed
Amos. “Just see how the mosquito craft dodge around, and serve to
protect the big ships from any sort of torpedo attack. They must be on
the watch all the time, because even a giant super-dreadnaught would go
down like a stone if struck from a submarine.”

“I hope the _Thunderer_ isn’t doomed to wind up that way, then,”
remarked Jack. “With something like a thousand men aboard, we would
have a mighty small chance to swim clear of the wreck, and might
be sucked down when she sank. But they’re not depending so much on
torpedoes out here as floating mines.”

“That’s what the lieutenant told us when on the destroyer,” said Amos.
“It seems that there is always a swift current or tide flowing on the
surface from out of the straits. By setting floating mines free above
the Narrows, the German engineers, who are helping their allies, the
Turks, in this campaign, can send them down upon the battle fleet as it
works in the straits.”

“Those are what they call contact mines, I reckon, Jack?”

“Yes, they have triggers projecting from them, and contact with the
side of a warship causes the explosion. They’ve already caused a whole
lot of trouble, and several big war vessels have gone down in the
straits through their work.”

“Then, besides, there have been heaps of regular mines, to be fired by
electricity,” Amos went on to say. “The Allies have small boats called
mine sweepers that use a sort of net, and drag for these mines. They’ve
cleared most of them out of the first five miles of the straits, I
understand.”

“Speaking about submarines,” Jack remarked, “the Germans don’t happen
to be the only ones that have them. The lieutenant told us about a
British submersible that dived under all the rows of mines in the
Narrows, and reached the Sea of Marmora, where for several days it
kicked up a great row, sinking several Turkish transports, one or two
warships, and even bombarding the docks at Constantinople, trying to
destroy, they say, the bridge across which so much of their supplies
come to the city.”

“If that account is all true,” declared Amos, “that was a feat of
daring unequalled in this whole war, according to my way of thinking.
The commander of that undersea boat will get the Victoria Cross, you
can bet.”

The boys were about this time informed they could have breakfast, since
everything was being hurried on that morning because there was stern
business ahead.

They met several of the officers in the mess-room, who greeted them
in the most friendly way. They had heard enough of the boys’ story
to understand that the two young Americans were a brave lot, and had
actually alone and single-handed captured the notorious gun-runner,
Captain Zenos, together with his entire crew of seven men.

The boat had been sent somewhere to be relieved of her dangerous cargo,
which in turn would be utilized against the Turks. Later on that same
powerboat was likely to become a mine-sweeper, for which service the
craft was admirably fitted. So that, after all, Jack and Amos had been
instrumental in adding to the Allied fleet by one useful unit.

By the time breakfast had been dispatched the sound of heavy firing
brought the two boys out on deck in a hurry, eager to witness whatever
went on.

“They’re engaging the forts at long range,” said Amos, immediately, as
he saw a volume of smoke shoot out from a battleship a mile away, and
almost immediately heard the awful crash of the big gun.

“Yes, miles away,” Jack observed. “They have the range figured down to
a dot. If they waste a shot they soon know it.”

“But how can they, when even with a glass no one could see the Turkish
forts away up in the straits?” Amos asked, filled with curiosity.

“If you look up in the heavens you’ll have your answer,” Jack told him.

“Oh! now I see what you mean; there are eyes in the sky. Those
aeroplanes are a part of the Allies’ outfit, and they keep watching all
the time to see where the shells fall, so as to correct the fire. It’s
a great scheme, isn’t it, Jack?”

“A part of the war game of today, Amos, for we’re living in a fast age.
Before this war is over I firmly believe there will be battleships of
the air as well as of the sea, and they won’t be Zeppelins either.”

“Just to think,” the other boy mused, “right now I may be looking up at
my brother Frank, for there’s a pretty big chance if he’s still alive
one of those dots in the sky is his aeroplane. And, Jack, if we notice
anyone of them that seems to be more daring than the rest, that’ll be
Frank, by all accounts.”

Steadily the _Thunderer_ pressed on, still heading for the jaws of
land that marked the end of the Dardanelles Straits. With the passage
of every minute the eagerness of the two lads increased until Amos was
almost quivering with excitement.

“Look, Jack, I do believe they’re getting ready to fire one of the big
guns in that forward turret. If you’ve got that cotton handy, please
give me a wad, for I don’t want to have my ear-drums cracked by the
sound.”

What he said turned out to be the truth, for the gunners aboard the
battleship had been given orders to start the ball rolling, as they
were now well within the zone for firing, according to the map.

When the terrific roar broke out the boys could feel themselves
flattened up along the object they chanced to be leaning against at
the time. It seemed as though they had received a strong slap with an
unseen plank, though it did not hurt them any.

“I wonder if that shell smashed a gun over in the Turkish battery?”
said Amos, as he sniffed at the powder smoke that filled the air for a
brief time.

The _Thunderer_ did not repeat her first shot. It may have been a
signal to tell the enemy she was coming straight on. There was other
work cut out for the big vessels of the fleet for that particular
morning.

As they continued to approach the entrance to the straits, Amos
became excited again. He had seen other warships pass through, firing
as they ran, and there was evidently a warm reply from certain enemy
batteries and forts, for explosions could be seen in the air, as well
as upheavals in the water, looking like the geysers in Yellowstone Park.

“This beats anything I’ve ever run across!” exclaimed Amos,
enthusiastically.

“It certainly is a great sight, and one we never expected to see,”
added Jack, though both of them were compelled to speak much above
their ordinary tones on account of all the thunderous noise that came
over the water.

Some of the vessels were already within the straits, and engaging the
enemy to the right and left. Smoke shrouded them from view, and through
this pall the flash of the big guns could be seen now and then. Such
a din the boys had never listened to. It was like ten thunder storms
rolled into one, and “then some,” as Amos declared.

“Talk to me about the Lower Regions!” he exclaimed, “but this is a
pretty fair imitation of what I’ve always believed they looked like.
Oh! did you see that hit when a shell exploded aboard that cruiser? It
must have done heaps of damage, and killed or injured many of the crew.
But you don’t notice any slackening of her fire, do you, Jack?”

“If the boat received serious damage she will pull out pretty soon, and
allow a substitute to take her place,” Jack explained. “I understand
there’s no haphazard work about all this, but every warship has a line
of attack laid out that must be pursued.”

“Yes,” Amos admitted, “I can see that while one tackles the batteries
over on the Asiatic side of the straits, another sets boldly in and
shells a fort on Gallipoli. It will be our turn pretty soon now, for we
are entering the jaws of land. Seddul Bahr lies over on the left, and
down on the other jaw is Kum Kaleh, both of them long since smashed to
pieces, we heard.”

“If the straits were all five miles wide the battle fleet would have
passed on through before now,” Jack asserted. “It’s because of the
Narrows, and the swift current that carries all the floating mines with
it that has held them up. And in my opinion it will be a long time
before they break through to Constantinople, for the Turks are fierce
fighters, and Mohammedans at that.”

“Why do you add that remark; how does the fact of their being followers
of Mahomet make any difference, I’d like to know?”

“Only this,” explained Jack, “as a part of his religion a Mohammedan
believes that it is a great honor to be killed in battle, and anyone
dying in that way will be transported direct to Paradise. This makes
them utterly fearless, and has accounted for most of their victories.”

“Well, well! But it’s almost time for us to get busy, seems like, Jack.
There, you can see the big gun is moving with the turret, so as to get
in line with some strong Turkish fort far up the waterway, perhaps
Kilid Bahr itself in the Narrows.”

Amos made sure to obtain a good grip on something as he stood on his
tip-toes, and opened his mouth in the bargain, after the most approved
method of lessening the coming shock. His ears were stuffed with
cotton, and it had been necessary for Jack to fairly shout in order to
be heard by his companion.

Then came the terrific crash. They knew that strong glasses were
instantly brought into use to learn what sort of success the gunners
had obtained. Doubtless those especially deputized for the work watched
a certain aeroplane to learn from the signals whether the shell had
fallen in the enemy fort, or dropped short. Getting the range in this
fashion while at a distance of several miles from the unseen target was
the modern method of sea fighting.

Those in the artfully concealed forts and batteries could easily see
their floating targets, and rain shells upon them. That the vessels
were not hit more frequently was caused by their being constantly in
motion, for there were expert German gunners behind those shore guns
doing most of the work. Had it been left entirely to the Turks the
battle fleet would have made short work with the defenses of the famous
Dardanelles.

Again and again did the _Thunderer_ take her turn to hurl a monster
shell at the Turkish forts. It was plainly the object of this morning
assault to do as much damage as possible, while the sweepers kept
busily at work catching such of the dangerous mines as came within
their reach.

Much of the lower five miles of the waterway had already been well
cleared of these perils, so that the big battleships could move along
without incurring extraordinary danger of being blown up.

In the midst of all this confusion and racket there suddenly came
a crash of a distinctly different nature, and both boys felt the
concussion of air. As they instinctively shrank back appalled, they
realized that a shell had actually struck and exploded aboard the
battleship!




CHAPTER IX. THE BATTLE IN THE STRAITS.


There was a dreadful silence aboard the battleship following the
explosion of that Turkish shell. Both the boys had been knocked down
by the concussion. They sat up, looking rather stupid, and Amos was
rubbing the back of his head as though it had come in for a smart blow
when it struck the metal deck.

Jack looked him over anxiously.

“Not hurt, I hope, Amos?” he exclaimed, when he could find his breath.

“Er--I guess only a bump or so,” stammered the other, trying to smile,
although the effort was a dismal failure because it made his head hurt.
“Say, that was a peach of a crack, wasn’t it? They got our range that
time all right, seems like, and more may follow that shell.”

“They’ve changed the course of the ship, I think,” said Jack, “for the
purpose of blocking that very game. I wonder how much damage it did
aboard?”

“I’m almost afraid to find out,” Amos admitted, “because some of the
poor fellows may be lying around terribly hurt, or else blown into
bits.”

Gaining their feet they pushed in the direction of the spot where
the shell had burst. It was forward on the port side, and from this
fact they knew the missile must have come from a battery or fort on
Gallipoli and not the Asiatic side of the straits.

Despite the fact that there was nothing but the best of steel to be
struck by the monster shell, so powerful was the explosive contained
in the same that much material damage had been effected. Luckily few
of the crew chanced to be within reach of the explosion. Three men
received minor wounds, no one was killed, and the damage, the boys
quickly learned, was not likely to interfere in the least with the work
laid out for the _Thunderer_ on that morning.

“If one of those big things ever burst close to a fellow,” Amos
commented as he examined the effect of the gunfire, “it would be all
day with him.”

“One thing sure,” Jack added, “he would never know what hurt him. It
would be like being struck by lightning; they say the victim sees a
flash, and that is the end of it. He never lives long enough to hear
the thunder, even when it comes hot on the heels of the lightning.”

The boys were greatly interested in the humble and dangerous though
necessary work of the numerous mine-sweepers. Glory there was none for
the brave-hearted men aboard the small boats that kept stubbornly at
their labor, despite the fire to which they were frequently subjected.
Now and then one might be hit and go down, whereupon the crew of a
few men must take their chances with the sharks known to infest those
waters when there was so much fighting going on.

“They are heroes, every one of them,” Amos declared, when they talked
of the remarkable courage shown by the men aboard these small craft.
“Just as much as the fellow who does some striking deed in the
spotlight, and is rewarded by the Nation’s praise, as well as the
Victoria Cross. But _they_ never expect to be known, and are content
to just go on and do their work the best way they can see, content if
success crowns their efforts.”

“Yes, and right now, Amos, while we’re talking about the risks they
run, if you look at that sweeper over near the shore you’ll see she’s
sinking.”

“You’re right, Jack; she must have been struck by a shot of some kind
from one of those concealed shore batteries. These Turks are pretty
clever about hiding their guns, and suddenly making a killing. The
meanest patch of brush may shelter three or four guns that even the
aviators above fail to see.”

“I think the commanders on the warships dread those hidden batteries
more than they do the big guns at Kilid Bahr or Chanak up in the
Narrows,” Jack went on to say.

“Then they ought to do something to find out where they are located, I
should think,” was the opinion expressed by his comrade.

“The mine-sweepers are helping to do that, for it seems the gunners
lying hidden among the gullies ashore find it hard to resist smashing
one when they get an opportunity. And that, you know, Amos, shows the
watchers on the warships just where to send some of their big shells.”

All this while the busy birdmen were circling the battle field, and
constantly seeking to impart important information which, from their
lofty eyrie, they were enabled to collect.

“They can see a thousand things from up there, you know,” Jack was
saying presently when they watched one of the airmen dropping little
bombs that made a great smoke, but which were intended simply as
signals to the fleet.

“Yes, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they could watch the movements of
a submarine far below the surface of the water. I really wonder why
aeroplanes haven’t been used to follow and destroy some of the German
submersibles that have commenced preying on British commerce.”

“Perhaps they have, for all we can say,” Jack told him. “I know from
experiments that when you’re fifty feet above a shallow body of water
you can, in calm weather, see the bottom everywhere. That’s how the
fish-hawk picks out the prize it wants for its dinner.”

Their exchange of remarks had to be frequently interrupted, for there
were violent bursts of cannonading that rendered conversation next to
impossible. Many of the British and French warships were now inside the
strait, and doing their utmost to silence the enemy batteries.

This was not all by any means. From other positions many miles away
came the heaviest of booming. The boys understood that this marked
the presence of the super-dreadnaught _Queen Elizabeth_, which from
a station out in the open sea could drop enormous shells from her
sixteen-inch guns on the Turkish forts in the Narrows, doing great
damage.

After the time when Jack and his cousin had the privilege of witnessing
that battle in the straits the conditions changed radically. Thanks to
those same floating mines that sank a number of vessels, the frontal
attack had to be given up, and a new campaign inaugurated, troops by
the tens of thousands being landed on Gallipoli, to try and push the
stubborn Turks from their lines.

As they stood there on the deck of the _Thunderer_ and watched the
stirring drama of sea and land forces in conflict, the two American
boys realized that they were in touch with one of the grandest combats
the world had ever known. History would so record it, they felt sure,
as they gazed with rapt attention, taking in all the marvelous sights.

Another shell burst against the side of the battleship, and must have
made more or less of a dent in her armor. This was to be expected;
indeed few of those many staunch warships would pass through this
combat without signs to show for their perilous adventure. But if they
survived the fighting, those dents would always be looked upon as marks
of approval; just as a veteran’s wounds give him cause for personal
pride.

Several more of the crew had been injured by shrapnel bursting
overhead; for the enemy tried by every means in his power to damage the
vessels, and those who manned them.

An officer, seeing that the boys were standing in a very exposed
position, came, and with the compliments of the Vice-Admiral invited
them to change to a place where they would at least be safe from this
overhead peril. They were not slow to accept, for neither of them cared
to be reckless while so many missiles of death were flying through the
air.

They had one opportunity to witness the result of the gunfire aboard
the battleship. A shell burst amidst a copse ashore two miles away, and
they distinctly saw men being hurled into the air, as well as parts of
a dismantled cannon. A hearty cheer from the whole crew told what they
thought of that shot.

“Look at that destroyer shooting along, Jack!” suddenly called out
Amos, pointing as he spoke to a slender vessel of great speed that was
flying with the grace of a swallow past the battleship.

“There’s something up, as sure as you live!” suggested Jack,
immediately deeply interested.

“She seems to be heading right up the straits, and acts as if they
meant to try and run through the Narrows yonder,” Amos suggested.

“Oh, hardly that!” Jack told him. “There wouldn’t be one chance in ten
she could run the batteries on the shore in that narrow part of the
straits. They’d sink her with their smaller guns; but even if she did
get through, of what use would she be in the Sea of Marmora, with the
Turkish fleet to reckon with?”

“But see how she still keeps flying on, Jack, as if she had wings. I
never saw such speed before with any kind of boat. What can be the
object of it all, do you think?”

“I expect it’s what I spoke about a while ago, Amos. She has been sent
out to serve as a floating target for the concealed batteries of the
Turks.”

“What colossal nerve!” cried Amos, almost holding his breath as he
watched the swift progress of the destroyer. “She offers herself as a
target for all the guns they can bring to bear on her. The chances are
three to one they’ll never come back again after making the circuit.”

“Those aboard have their orders, and they’ll carry them out despite
all the Turkish guns within ten miles. They may go down, but if, by
sacrificing themselves, they show up one or two hidden batteries that
can be destroyed by the battleships, they will have died gloriously,
like thousands of others of their kind have done since the days of the
Spanish armada.”

Thrilled by the spectacle of valor exhibited by the crew of the little
destroyer, the two lads stood and kept their eyes riveted on the
flitting boat. They could not remember the time when they had felt such
a deep interest in anything. When presently the first shell exploded
near the destroyer Amos gave a cry of alarm.

“Oh, that was a close shave, let me tell you, Jack!” he exclaimed.
“I wonder if the brave commander or any of his crew could have been
killed, or seriously wounded by that shell. And, Jack, doesn’t the
destroyer look sort of familiar to you? I honestly believe it’s the
very same boat we were on last night.”

“That would be hard to say,” his chum explained, “because most of them
are built along similar models, and it would be easy to mistake one for
another. You can see a dozen of the scout-boats right now inside the
straits. But that particular one has for some reason been picked for
this daring game of drawing the fangs of the enemy, by tempting the
gunners in their hidden batteries to take a chance.”

“Whoever the commander is I take off my hat to him,” asserted Amos,
suiting the action to the word.

“Oh! it strikes me that bravery is becoming mighty common these days,
Amos. Already there have been dozens of astonishing feats carried out
on both sides that make those stories in history look pretty poor.”

“That’s right,” said Amos, “tell me what is there in Leonidas and his
three hundred deathless Spartans holding the pass of Thermopylæ beside
some of the things that are happening all around us every day, what
with these fearless aviators, the men who go down under the ocean
in submarines, and those who laugh at death, like the crew of that
destroyer are doing this very minute?”

“I’m hoping they get through all right, after all,” Jack wished. “You
can see that by now they’ve reached the last Allied warship. Still
they keep right on, changing their course constantly so that the white
bubbles in their wake look like a snake. There, did you hear that shot
from the shore? I can see the smoke, but there isn’t a sign of a cannon
in sight. I reckon that was a time when the destroyer got a bite.”

Hardly had his last word been spoken than there was a mighty crash. The
_Thunderer_ had sent her compliments at the Turkish shore battery so
cleverly hidden, and the location of which had been revealed by that
one incautious shot.




CHAPTER X. AMIDST THE CRASH OF BIG GUNS.


As if that one tremendous crash had been a prearranged signal, several
others among the scattered war vessels fired a shot toward the shore
where that burst of smoke had betrayed the concealed Turkish battery.

Somehow, as Jack afterwards said, it reminded him forcibly of a pack
of dogs hanging around and watching one of their number skirmish for
a bone; no sooner had he pawed up the ground and made an important
discovery than the entire pack scrambled for its possession.

Unfortunately the smoke cloud drifted in front of the two boys so as to
shut out their view, for which they were sorry. But there could not be
the least doubt that the terrible volley must have utterly annihilated
the members of the luckless battery, as well as smashed their guns.

At least no further shot came from that particular quarter as long as
the little destroyer remained within range.

“They got what they invited, I guess,” Amos exclaimed, looking relieved
when no further shots came from the brush in front of the gully where
the battery had been lying hidden for days perhaps, awaiting a chance
to do something.

Jack had his binoculars leveled at the spot.

“I can’t see the least movement there,” he declared. “All the ground is
torn up in a frightful way, and I think I can pick out the end of a gun
that is covered with rocks. Yes, and there is another lying part-way in
the water, too.”

The boys looked at each other almost in awe at the frightful result of
that volley from the fleet. Then Jack handed the glasses over so that
his chum could see for himself the gruesome sight.

The destroyer had not stopped because of this one incident. Encouraged
by their initial success in disclosing the hiding-place of the enemy,
the daring crew meant to keep right along, venturing several miles up
the straits, and trying to invite another battery to take a chance.

Shells were exploding all around the boat, for distant gunners took up
the challenge, and endeavored to hit the fleet craft. Her speed was all
that saved her on several occasions, for the boys could see the water
churned up in her rear as flying missiles struck too late, through a
miscalculation as to her swiftness.

For the time being pretty much all the firing had ceased on the part of
the invading war vessels. It seemed as though everyone were interested
in the fate of the venturesome destroyer. Doubtless, had another
battery fired from the shore it must have been instantly overwhelmed in
the hail of explosives that would speed that way, since every Allied
gunner seemed wild to have a share in the fun.

“They don’t seem to hit her with any kind of success,” called out Amos,
for the enemy guns were still booming from the forts further up the
straits toward the Narrows; and here and there came a distant report
from the Anatolian shore far back from the edge of the water.

“No, it looks as if she bore a charmed life,” admitted Jack, as he saw
another geyser spout up far behind the mocking boat that kept tempting
the Turkish and German gunners.

“Still, it would take only one hit to finish her,” Amos went on to
say, with renewed apprehension. Somehow he seemed to take a personal
interest in the fortunes of those gallant men who were showing the kind
of mettle they were made of, in thus risking death in order to push
their cause forward.

He had hardly spoken than they saw a shell burst apparently directly
alongside the destroyer, which was wreathed in smoke, as though her own
guns had also been fired shoreward at the same instant.

Jack clapped the glasses to his eyes while Amos stood there holding his
breath, for he feared that the worst must have happened, and the little
destroyer met the fate she had tempted.

Then both boys gave a shout, and from a thousand throats the same
sound welled forth until it rang over the agitated waters of the
Dardanelles; for the saucy little destroyer had suddenly appeared,
emerging from the smoke cloud, and speeding merrily onward as though
scorning the efforts of the enemy to bring about her destruction.

And though the boat continued further along for several miles, all the
while fired on from the distant forts, she seemed to be able to defy
all their best efforts, for when finally the signal was given for her
to return she had escaped the rain of shot and shell.

And it might be noticed that the lesson of that smashed battery had
not been lost upon the observing enemy, for although there may have
been others hidden amidst the gullies and rocks along the shore they
fired no shot to betray their whereabouts. After that one lesson they
“tumbled to the game,” as Amos afterwards said, and lay low.

When it was seen that the mission of the destroyer had come to an end
temporarily the bombardment of the forts was resumed with greater
violence than before. Once again the great guns boomed, and the smoke
drifted with the wind across the straits. It proved to be one of the
most furious attacks thus far attempted, and doubtless considerable
damage was done, not only to the forts themselves, but in destroying
the guns with which they were mounted.

During all this time the mine sweepers had been getting in their work.
They accomplished it in a modest manner, and there was no halo of
romance about what they were doing so that they never received the
salvo of cheers that greeted the successful return of the destroyer. At
the same time they took desperate chances, since nearly all of the time
they were under fire, from both big guns and smaller pieces.

More than one of the sweepers were struck and sunk. Those of the crew
able to do so immediately attempted to swim to one of the other small
vessels, to be taken aboard. Not all of them were so fortunate, and
when the roll-call came later many were not present to answer, having
either fallen into the hands of the enemy, or else sunk to a watery
grave.

From the distance over which these small boats made their way it was
evident that they had succeeded in clearing some miles of the straits
of the fixed mines, which was one of the objects of the day’s work.

At that time in the earlier period of the fight for the Dardanelles
it was positively believed by the Allies that weight of metal would
assuredly carry the battleships through the straits, and the sea wall
of Constantinople.

Although several casualties had already been recorded from those
dangerous floating mines that were set adrift in shoals above the
Narrows, the commanders of the fleet were unable to bring themselves to
believe anything could prevent them from accomplishing their purpose as
first laid out.

We know that later on a radical change was made in the program. The
passage of the Dardanelles, promised for the first of May, had not been
accomplished by the first of September, when there was trench warfare
ashore, with tens of thousands killed and wounded on both sides, and
the end still unknown.

At the time Jack and Amos found themselves with the battle fleet a
spirit of optimism pervaded the various units composing the immense
flotilla. Possibly the knowledge that they had already shattered a
number of the forts at the lower end of the passageway had much to do
with this confidence. They could not yet seem to grasp the fact that
the swift current that set through the Narrows, coming from the Sea
of Marmora day and night, was fated to be their eventual undoing, and
render all their efforts vain, for it bore countless floating mines
capable of sinking even a super-dreadnaught upon contact.

The boys had become heartily tired of it all by this time. Their heads
rang from the dreadful concussion, and Amos even declared he had a
splitting headache.

“I shall go crazy if they don’t drop out soon, stop these terrible
broadsides of living, fiery metal, and get away!” he told his cousin,
who was just then observing some of the aeroplanes that still sailed
back and forth in the clear skies above.

“Watch that fellow away over yonder,” he told Amos, clapping the
binoculars in his hand.

“Oh! do you think he can be Frank?” cried the other, trembling as he
started to adjust the glasses to his sight.

“That’s more than I’d like to say,” replied Jack, “though it might be
possible, for right now he’s taking desperate chances to carry out a
little scheme he’s set up, hoping to do some damage to the Turks, in
all this excitement, where the shells of the fleet can’t reach them.”

“He is swooping low, as sure as anything,” admitted Amos, eagerly.
“It seems to me he must be throwing something down at a fort below
him. There, I could see a little cloud of gray smoke burst close by
the aeroplane, so they must be sending shrapnel up at him from those
anti-airship guns.”

“That’s just what he is doing, Amos, throwing bombs down at a magazine
he has discovered. Turn the glasses lower, and watch to see if there
is any sort of an explosion on the ground. That would give it away if
he succeeds.”

Ten seconds later and Amos uttered a shout.

“He did it, Jack, sure he did! You can see the cloud of dense smoke
that is rising right now! He must have exploded a magazine, and created
no end of trouble for the Turks. Bully for the man in the aeroplane,
whether he’s my brother Frank or another of his stripe!”

Jack saw good reason to believe that what his comrade cried out was
true. There had suddenly arisen a great cloud of smoke many times
larger than would have followed the discharge of a single gun. They
could not hear the thunder that may have accompanied the rending of the
magazine walls, on account of the heavy cannonading that was going on
intermittently around them.

As though satisfied, after having accomplished the errand with which
he had been entrusted, the bold airman now commenced to bore upward in
spirals, meaning to baffle all the attempts of the Turkish gunners to
strike his machine.

“See, they are trying their level best to fetch him down, just in a
spirit of revenge, I reckon!” cried Amos, as he kept the glasses glued
to his eyes; for somehow he seemed to feel that he was looking at his
long-missing brother Frank, because this venturesome feat tallied
exactly with others which the American aviator had successfully carried
through in the past.

A few minutes later and he seemed satisfied the aviator had risen
beyond range of the shrapnel, for he handed the binoculars back to
Jack. His face was beaming with happiness and pride, for Amos certainly
felt that a new honor had come to the Turner family.

“This time I really believe the _Thunderer_ is going to get out of the
straits for good!” Jack observed. Although the battleship had swung
around the circle a number of times, so as to always keep moving, and
present a difficult target to the enemy, up to then they had invariably
come back again for a few more shots at distant Kilid Bahr and Chanak
forts, the one on the left and the other on the right of the Narrows.

Amos was delighted to hear it. His head rang with the terrible noise,
despite his precautions with regard to stuffing his ears with cotton.
Never in all his life had he heard one-tenth the racket that for two
hours or more had assailed him even in the most terrible thunder storm
of his experience.

Yes, the warships were actually leaving the straits, satisfied with the
execution they had done. Thousands of tons of metal had been hurled
upon the batteries and forts of the enemy, and great destruction
must have followed. Still, this severe business could not be kept up
indefinitely; it was too fierce a strain on both men and guns.

So by degrees the firing died down. A few vessels lingered as though
their commanders were loth to abandon the practice; but when another
half hour had passed the quivering air had a chance to quiet down. The
battle had come to a close.




CHAPTER XI. WHERE HISTORY WAS BEING MADE.


That afternoon the _Thunderer_ was many miles away from the scene of
the morning’s activities. The crew busied themselves with “cleaning
up,” and both Jack and Amos were more or less interested in watching
how the monster guns were taken care of.

Comparatively little damage had been done by the bursting of shells
aboard the battleship. In fact, considering the rain of shot to which
all the vessels of the invading fleet had been subjected, it was a
matter of congratulation among the various commanders that no serious
losses had resulted.

Launches were shooting this way and that as visits were exchanged;
but these were in every case necessitated by the need of conferences,
and not mere acts of courtesy. When the war paint was daubed on the
battleships only business was supposed to occupy the minds of those
who were entrusted with the charge of the many units of the vast armada.

Amos had not as yet succeeded in entirely getting rid of his headache,
though he admitted that he felt better. What he had witnessed that
morning had made a deep impression on his mind, so that he could talk
of little else.

They had had a good lunch in the mess-room at about one, and later in
the day, as the sun drew nearer the watery horizon toward the west, the
boys lounged in a favorite spot on deck, surveying the pleasing picture.

In every direction they could see big battleships, swift destroyers,
mine-sweepers, and transports that had brought out new additions to
take the place of those who may have been lost, as well as troops from
both Great Britain and France.

Jack had found an opportunity to make certain inquiries, and he felt
that it was time to communicate what he had learned to his chum.

“I asked about the British flag we saw floating at the lower extremity
of Gallipoli,” he remarked, “as well as the tricolor of France that was
waving across on the Asiatic side of the straits, where Fort Kum Kaleh
used to be. And they tell me that some thousands of troops have been
landed there, and are entrenched, with batteries of quick-firing guns.”

“Then that is why certain vessels keep within a few miles of the
straits all the time, is it?” asked Amos. “They mean to defend the
shore parties if they are attacked by superior numbers of the Turks.”

“That’s just the whole thing in a nut-shell,” agreed Jack. “You know
the fleet had little trouble in reducing the forts and batteries on the
tip of Gallipoli to ruins in the beginning, because they could get a
clean sweep and crossfire on Seddul Bahr and Orkhanieh. There in the
ruins of those places the handful of British soldiers are standing at
bay, ready to mow down the enemy if he starts anything.”

“But why are the French over across on the Asiatic shore, Jack?”

“I suppose only to protect the British, for they have batteries too.
But you understand, Amos, what I was trying to find out concerned the
headquarters of the aviation corps.”

“Someone told me he thought it was on one of the Greek islands lying
about twenty miles away as the crow flies,” Amos said.

“That may be all very true, but on the other hand I’ve heard there have
been men landed in another quarter of the peninsula, part way up, and
my informant assured me he believed some of the fliers made their start
from one of the two camps.”

“That would be important news, if only we knew it to be true, Jack.”

“It would mean that we must manage to get ashore some way or other, and
find out for ourselves, Amos. We’ve never made it a point to depend on
others when we had a thing to be done, like the old farmer did, you
remember.”

“Well, perhaps I’ve heard the story, Jack, but it wouldn’t do any harm
to tell it again,” suggested Amos.

“Oh! it is meant to show how foolish it is to think others will do
things as well as you can yourself,” Jack commenced. “You see, it is
something of a fairy story, too, and concerns a mother bird that had
her little brood nearly ready for flying, with the nest concealed among
the ripening grain of a farmer.”

“A dangerous place to build a nest, that’s sure,” observed Amos.

“One day when she came home the youngsters were in a great fright,
for they said the farmer and his son had been walking close by, and
declared the grain was ready to be cut, so they would send around for
the neighbors, and start in on the next day. After she had managed to
quiet her excited little brood the mother bird told them there was no
need of worry, for the grain would not be cut.

“The next day when she came home they were as badly scared as before.
The farmer and his son had been around again, and this time the old man
declared that since their neighbors had all been too busy to respond,
he would have to call in his relatives, and get the wheat cut on the
following day.”

Amos laughed.

“Chances were it wasn’t cut, Jack?” he remarked, sensibly.

“Well, she told them there was no danger, Amos; but when on the third
day the mother bird came home, and the nestlings told her what had
happened, it was different. The farmer had said that since neighbors
and relatives had failed them, on the following day he and his son
would have to take off their coats and reap the grain themselves. ‘It’s
time we were going then, children,’ said the wise mother bird, ‘for
when a man says he will do a thing himself, and stops depending on
others, that settles it.’ And there’s the story, though I’m afraid it’s
a chestnut.”

“Honestly, Jack, I never heard it before, though it’s a cracking good
one, and illustrates the point you were making. But ever since we’ve
been going together we’ve tried to do things ourselves, and depend on
others just as little as possible. We’ll do it again in this case.”

“I’ll take the first chance I can find to have a little talk with the
commander,” ventured Jack.

“About our getting ashore, you mean?”

“Yes,” replied Jack, “for it isn’t the easiest thing going, you can
understand, making a landing, when a thousand enemy eyes may be on the
watch. First thing you know they may open on you with a quick-firer,
and your name will be Dennis.”

“Still, they must have some way of communicating with the forces
ashore, and sending ammunition as well as provisions to them,” urged
Amos.

“I imagine all that is done under cover of darkness, when a landing can
be made without drawing the fire of the enemy. With every light out
one of these small dispatch boats can creep in close enough to send
a boat-load ashore. Perhaps some of these transports that look as if
they had come a long distance may be loaded with more Australian or New
Zealand troops.”

“They’re coming from all over the world to take a hand in this fierce
scrap, it seems,” suggested Amos. “Canadians, Hindoos, New Zealanders
they call Kiwis and Australians known as Kangaroos, Algerians,
Egyptians, Senegalese, and lots of others. It is a world war, sure
enough, Jack.”

“Just stop and think of it for a minute,” urged Jack, shaking his head
as the immensity of the titanic struggle struck him. “Besides Belgium,
Germany, Japan, Great Britain, and France, there is Russia, with dozens
of different tribes, and Austria with a patchwork lot of peoples. Then
little Servia, and still smaller Montenegro are fighting. Italy is
bound to get in the scrap at any day now, and before the end comes the
Turk may find Rumania and Greece at his throat, eager to help kick him
out of Europe.”

“No one knows yet what the end will be,” Amos continued in the same
strain. “Even Holland, Denmark, Sweden, Norway and Switzerland may be
dragged into the row. I only hope the good old United States is able to
keep out of it, that’s all. We don’t want to fight the Germans if we
can help it, because we think too much of them as a people.”

“We’ll never go in unless we are forced to,” declared Jack. “The only
thing I’m afraid may get us there is this submarine warfare which
Germany has started. They are torpedoing passenger steamers, and when
some Americans are drowned Uncle Sam is apt to get riled, you know, and
roll up his sleeves for business.”

They sat there chatting in this strain for some time. It was impossible
to ever tire of the wonderful scene spread before them, with all those
vessels that represented the vast sea power of Great Britain and France
moving to and fro.

“Germany keeps her fleet shut up in the Kiel Canal all the time. What
do you suppose their object is, Jack?” Amos asked after a while.

“They are waiting in hopes of crippling the British fleet by use of the
submarines and mines,” he was told. “Already several old battleships
have been lost out here, and others have been sunk closer at home. But
I’ve been told that so many super-dreadnaughts have been finished
since the war began that the British fleet is ever so much stronger
today than early last August when the shadow of war fell across Europe.”

“All German commerce has been driven from the sea routes,” said Amos;
“and what vessels have escaped capture are hiding in different friendly
ports. Why, over in New York, you remember, we saw nearly a dozen
splendid big steamers that haven’t earned a dollar since July last. And
they daren’t go outside the harbor either.”

“For a pretty good reason, too,” chuckled the other. “Didn’t we see
three British cruisers, stripped for action, hovering near by when we
passed Sandy Hook lightship on our way out? They would soon riddle the
biggest German vessel, and sink her, if there was any attempt made at
getting out. The sea just at present doesn’t belong to the Kaiser.”

“I can see the Vice-Admiral standing by himself up on the bridge,” Amos
remarked just then. “If only you could catch his eye he might beckon
to you to join him there, for I fancy he’s taken a great liking to you,
Jack.”

“That would give me the opening I wanted, to ask a favor of him about
being put ashore, wouldn’t it, Amos? Besides, he would be likely to
know about where aviation headquarters might be found.”

“Nothing like trying, Jack; and here’s wishing you luck.”

Jack managed to stroll forward until near the bridge. He stood there,
keeping an eye on the figure in the admiral’s uniform. Apparently the
commander was using his binoculars to some purpose, possibly locating
certain units of the fleet so as to know which way to look for any
orders that might come from the one in supreme control, while darkness
rested on the sea.

Something caused him to glance downward after a little while, and
seeing Jack saluting him, he smiled. Then, just as Amos had prophesied,
he beckoned the boy to ascend to the bridge and join him.

Amos laughed softly when he saw this. Doubtless he was saying to
himself that he was a good guesser, since he had made a bull’s-eye
the first shot. He watched Jack join the commander, who immediately
engaged him in earnest conversation, pointing out certain warships
as though telling Jack what they had accomplished. Then Jack must
have started to mention what he and his comrade wished to do, for the
Vice-Admiral seemed to be listening, occasionally saying something as
the opportunity arose.

“It’s all right,” Amos remarked, in a satisfied tone. “I know he’ll
do nearly anything Jack asks of him, because my chum has such a
_convincing_ way about him, he can nearly always carry his point. And
it may be we’ll not be aboard the bully old _Thunderer_ when dawn
breaks, though that remains to be seen.”

A short time afterwards he saw Jack again salute the grizzled
commander, and start down from the bridge, while the officer again used
his glass to locate the most prominent units of the big fleet of war
vessels.




CHAPTER XII. AFTER DARKNESS FELL.


“You see I was right about his asking you up on the bridge, Jack. What
sort of luck did you have?” demanded Amos, when his chum joined him on
deck.

“Good enough in some ways, though he couldn’t tell me positively
whether there would be an aviation camp ashore,” Jack replied. “He did
mention one on an island quite some ways off, where the injured war
vessels are taken for temporary repairs. I made up my mind that since
we had the chance we’d better go ashore first. If it turns out that
there are no aeroplane pilots in camp we can find a way to come back
again; and he says he’ll see we get to the island all right.”

“I felt it in my bones you could get nearly anything you wanted out of
the Vice-Admiral,” boasted Amos.

“As far as that goes,” the other told him, “I rather believe it was the
paper we carry, signed by Kitchener, that did the trick. Every British
officer on sea or land we’ve let look at that signature has acted as if
he couldn’t do too much for the boys K. of K. wanted to help.”

“But how about getting ashore, and when can we go, Jack?”

“Here’s the way it stands,” came the reply. “Some time late tonight,
after twelve, he said, there will come up a dispatch boat that is
expected to run over to the peninsula, and make a landing, carrying
orders, and other things, too.”

“And we can go aboard that, can we?” questioned Amos.

“Yes, the kind Vice-Admiral will have it all arranged for us. He also
means to give us a document that will help us when we want to leave the
peninsula again, no matter whether we’ve found Frank or not.”

“Good for him, Jack. One of the best things we seem to run up against
is this finding a friend when in need. It’s all cut and dried now,
then, and we can count on getting ashore before morning breaks.”

“Barring accidents, Amos.”

“Just what do you mean by that?” asked the other, curiously.

“Stop and think how much risk hangs over a landing on the rocky
peninsula, when sharp-eyed Turkish soldiers are on guard everywhere by
tens of thousands, and all sorts of barbed wire entanglements have been
set to trap the unwary. These landings are mighty dangerous affairs at
the best, I understand.”

“They must be,” Amos admitted readily enough, “when any minute you
may find yourself made a target for a quick-firer that shoots bullets
as fast as you can wink, and cuts men down like ripe grain. But the
darkness is in our favor, Jack.”

“Yes, and in spite of the danger some thousands of British soldiers and
Territorials are ashore right now, ready to fight to the last gasp so
as to hold the bit of enemy land they are squatted on. When the sun
comes up I count on being with them.”

“And then we may know if Frank is there or not,” added Amos, fervently,
for that one consideration was ever foremost in his mind.

The two comrades had been seeking the missing one so long now, and met
with so many disappointments just when success seemed within their
grasp, that Amos could hardly be blamed for feeling terribly despondent
at times.

That was where having a cheery chum came in, for Jack had buoyed his
spirits up many a time when Amos felt that the outlook was “as blue as
indigo.”

As the afternoon wore away and the sun sank to rest, the boys took
note of the fact that all signs seemed to promise a good day on the
morrow. This counted for considerable with them; for according to all
reports there had been a season of fogs and even storms recently that
had held up the work of reducing the forts defending the waterway to
Constantinople.

“In spite of the stars we’ll have overhead,” said Jack, “I think the
night will be a dark one.”

“All the better for our landing, I should say,” was Amos’ comment.

They had been watching the preparations made by some of the battleships
to meet the constant danger from a submarine, for of late it had been
rumored that the Germans had succeeded in shipping an undersea boat in
sections through Bulgaria, and that it might be heard from any day.

Since that time one of the larger submersibles is said to have made
the long water trip past Gibraltar, and the entire length of the
Mediterranean, arriving unexpectedly in time to do terrible damage
among the Allied fleets; but earlier in the summer even the threat of
hidden peril gave the commander of the flotilla grave concern.

In some cases nets were used to protect a vessel lying to or drifting;
but as a rule their greatest protection lay in an utter absence of
lights aboard. Like grim shadows the floating batteries lay here
and there on the sea, ready with steam up to move at any time. The
destroyers hovered near by, constantly on guard; and from time to time
brilliant searchlights would sweep the surroundings so thoroughly that
not even a rowboat could escape their penetrating ray.

It can be easily understood that these arrangements so deeply
interested the two boys that they could not bear to leave the deck
until told by a steward that supper was waiting in the mess-room.
That appealed strongly to Amos, whose appetite, always fair, had been
considerably sharpened by the salt sea air.

The officers whom they met at supper were a very kindly set. They had
heard enough about the American lads to feel considerable interest
in their fortunes. Besides, being men who knew what it was to take
chances, they could admire pluck no matter where found.

The daring feat of Jack and his chum in capturing the notorious
blockade runner, Captain Zenos, and his entire crew, without any
outside assistance, made the boys heroes in the eyes of the British
officers. Hence they paid them constant attention, and stood ready to
extend a helping hand whenever asked.

Jack, always looking ahead, asked many questions as he ate his supper.
In this way he managed to pick up much information concerning things
that bore an intimate connection with the enterprise he and Amos had in
view.

He had explained to him how those dangerous night landings were
effected, so as to take as few chances as possible. One of the officers
had been ashore, it happened, and was able to tell something concerning
the nature of the rough ground likely to be encountered, cut up in
large and small gullies that would make any advance on the part of the
troops a difficult proposition indeed.

Later on the boys once more sought their favorite place on deck to
spend some time in talking matters over.

Night had now settled down over the sea, though it was hardly as dark
as might be expected later on. They could make out the shadowy outlines
of one or two fighters of the fleet not far away. Few sounds were
heard, as silence had been impressed upon every crew; and such labor as
could be left until morning was suspended.

“We must get to our bunks before a great while,” Jack suggested,
“because we can only count on a few hours’ sleep if that dispatch boat
comes a little after midnight, as the commander told me it would.”

“Did you get that little paper from him he promised you?”

“Yes, it was handed to me while we were at the table,” Jack replied.
“Even in the midst of the weighty matters that are holding his
attention these days the kind-hearted Vice-Admiral, who has taken such
an interest in your hunt for Frank, didn’t forget his promise.”

“We were certainly born under a lucky star, to have such good friends
raised up for us right along,” laughed Amos.

“If we fail to find Frank on Gallipoli,” Jack declared, “we can get
aboard the _Thunderer_ again and make a fresh start. You understand
the great favor granted to us, for as a rule no civilian is ever
allowed on British battleships in war times, and especially in the
midst of work like that we’ve seen today.”

“It’s a mighty fine thing to have a smooth tongue, and a convincing way
about you, let me tell you, Jack, old chum.”

“But,” protested the other, “from my way of looking at it all my
abilities would have counted for very little if we hadn’t been
fortunate enough to capture that gun-running vessel and turn the stuff
over to the Allies. You see that old rascal of a Captain Zenos has
something of a name as a sharp character. They have never been able to
catch him, even though they knew he was carrying explosives and guns to
the Turks right along. And they think we have earned all we are getting
from the Vice-Admiral.”

“Well, all I can say is that it feels good to be appreciated,” Amos
concluded.

They found themselves getting sleepy before long. Of late their rest
had been sadly broken, and besides they expected to be aroused before
many hours. So when Jack proposed that they say good-night to the
outside world and seek their little quarters where they had already
passed one comfortable night, Amos offered no objection.

The last look around showed them only a few vivid lanes of white light
traveling this way and that, and which would keep up all through the
weary watches of that long night--searchlights seeking signs of a foe
that might try to creep out and spread consternation and destruction
among the numerous warships of the fleet. All else was by this time
swathed in the utter gloom that had come as the night deepened.

Whoever the unfortunate officer was who had been invalided home, the
boys considered themselves very lucky to be given his comfortable
quarters. If they were a little crowded for space that did not matter,
and they were used to bunking together, so this fact gave them no
concern.

They made themselves ready so that little time might be wasted when the
call came; for they had been told that someone would arouse them when
the dispatch boat arrived.

In fact, the boys lay down just about as they were, never going to the
trouble of even removing their leggings or shoes.

Amos called it “turning in all standing,” though he must have picked up
the phrase from some seafarer; sailors often have to throw themselves
down wet and just as they are, only too glad to get an hour’s sleep in
the midst of a storm that by its violence has utterly worn everyone out.

The battleship was very steady, partly because of the stillness of the
sea at that particular time; had the waves been running high it would
doubtless have proven far less pleasant to “land-lubbers” like Jack and
Amos.

“Wake me early, mother dear,” said Amos as he turned in, “because
tomorrow will be the first of May. Seriously speaking, Jack, if I’m so
sound asleep I don’t hear the pounding on the door, give me a kick,
will you?”

“You can depend on me to do the same,” laughed Jack. “But there’s
small danger of you not waking. A cat couldn’t walk across the floor
without you bobbing up your head and asking ‘who’s there?’ We can have
about four hours’ nap, and that will have to do us for the night.”

Both boys were soon asleep. There were hosts of things they might have
allowed themselves to think about, but neither of them had ever fallen
into the bad habit of doing all their worrying when in bed.

They were aroused by a rap at the door, not a loud summons, but quite
boisterous enough to cause two heads to rise from the pillow, while
Jack called out:

“Hello! there, what is it?”

“Lieutenant’s compliments, sir, and he says the dispatch boat is coming
on, and will you please come on deck as soon as you can,” a man’s voice
replied.

“Ay, ay, our compliments to the lieutenant, and tell him we’ll be with
him in two shakes of a lamb’s tail,” and with these words Amos was on
his feet.




CHAPTER XIII. HEADED FOR THE GALLIPOLI SHORE.


Amos was now glad that Jack had been so positive about making all their
arrangements beforehand. The dispatch boat would be in somewhat of a
hurry, as the commander doubtless had a regular schedule to be carried
out; and any unexpected delay was apt to disarrange this.

“I’m ready!” sang out Amos, almost before the marine who had aroused
them according to orders from the lieutenant, whose duty kept him on
deck at this hour, could have made his report.

“Same here,” came a voice from the darkness, “and the sooner we make
out to reach the deck the better. They may object to losing even a
minute of their precious time for a couple of Yankee boys.”

They knew their way perfectly, whether it were broad daylight or in the
inky darkness of night. Jack had looked out for that. It was a habit
born of his woodcraft education that when in strange quarters the first
thing to be done must be to impress every little thing on his mind--and
a very good idea for any boy to take as his motto.

So they came on deck without colliding with anything. The first thing
Jack did--and this also sprang from his two years’ experience out on
the plains--was to cast an eye aloft.

The stars shone brightly, even though the world below lay shrouded in
darkness. Those stars meant much more to Jack Maxfield than they might
to the ordinary careless, happy-go-lucky lad. He was so well acquainted
with the positions of the various planets that stood for the signs of
the zodiac that all he needed at any time was one good look around, and
he could tell pretty closely what the hour was.

Knowing this strong point on the part of his chum, Amos therefore was
not at all surprised to hear him immediately mutter:

“It’s a good deal later than I expected. They said the boat would come
any time after midnight; but right now it’s less than two hours to peep
of dawn.”

“Ginger! that may play the dickens with our plans for getting ashore,
Jack!” exclaimed Amos. It might be noticed that never for one instant
did he question the accuracy of his comrade’s statement; for in truth
he had seen the other prove his ability to tell time by the position of
the stars again and again.

“Oh, let’s hope not,” Jack went on to say with his customary assurance,
for he always saw the bright side of things. “They must know what they
are doing, and just how long it’s going to take them to run across to
Gallipoli.”

“Yes, and, Jack, you remember the commander assured you they would have
to send a boat in to shore, no matter what happened, for certain things
had to be delivered to the general in charge of the Territorials. I
guess it’s going to be all right.”

“There’s the dispatch boat coming up now, and with only one light
showing. All these movements look ghostly, let me tell you, Amos.”

“But there’s a good reason for every one of them,” remarked Amos, as
they watched the swift boat drawing close to the bulky battleship.

“You can be sure there is,” said Jack. “If ever there was a case where
constant vigilance is the price of safety, the British seamen know it
during these exciting days. They never can tell when, without warning,
a torpedo will smash against the side of their war vessel, sinking it
inside of five minutes.”

“Or an aeroplane come sailing along overhead, and try to drop bombs
down on the deck that might do a heap of damage. Whew! talk about
living under a strain, I bet there’ll be a lot of old-young men after
this war is over. Their hair will turn white in a year, from the
constant suspense and worry.”

“There, the dispatch boat has halted, and they are sending a boat over
to us, you can see. I make out the dip of the oars in the water, and
can just barely hear the same in the rowlocks. We’re expected to go
off in that same boat, Amos.”

Two minutes later and they saw someone come aboard. The lieutenant of
the big battleship met him and there ensued a short talk in low tones.
Doubtless he was first of all handing over something which was to be
taken ashore, possibly mail for the Territorials from their home ports.
Then Jack guessed he must be giving the Vice-Admiral’s orders that the
two American boys be landed at the camp, particular care being taken to
insure their safety.

Immediately afterwards the officer belonging to the _Thunderer_ turned
and made a gesture with his hand that Jack knew must be meant for them.
Accordingly he and his comrade drew forward.

“You are to be put in charge of this gentleman, who will see that you
are taken ashore. It is the admiral’s orders, and we hope you will meet
in your search with the success you certainly deserve.”

The British officer would not likely say as much as that to most
strangers, but somehow these two wide-awake lads had become favorites
in the mess-room during their brief stay aboard the grim war vessel.

Shaking hands with the lieutenant, after he had made the first move
himself, the boys managed to drop into the waiting boat with a fair
amount of agility. Although they may not have been born seamen, and
indeed, until lately, had had very little to do with boats of any size,
at the same time they were naturally nimble, and athletic as well.

The two sailors rowed them across to the destroyer which was acting as
a dispatch boat, awaited their coming, lying like a bird on the heaving
bosom of the sea. They lost no time in getting aboard, after which the
boat was hoisted with as little noise as possible.

Indeed, silence seemed to be at a premium in these exciting times.
Every block had apparently been well oiled so that when the ropes
pulled through there would be no squeaking to announce the fact.
Smaller things than this have betrayed the presence of a boat to
lurking foes; and evidently the order had gone forth that nothing
should be left undone to baffle those who would only too willingly open
a battery upon them.

Now they were off.

The boys first of all noticed the difference in motion when aboard the
speedy destroyer as compared with the bulky battleship.

“I guess the one might be called a bulldog and the other a greyhound,
so far as looks and speed go,” said Amos, speaking almost in a whisper,
for everything seemed to be done in such a ghostly fashion that he did
not dare talk out in his natural tones.

“But I like this much better than the other,” Jack told him. “It makes
you feel almost as if you were flying. We are cutting through the water
at a rate of twenty miles an hour right now, and yet you’d hardly
believe it.”

Another stop was made, and more mail collected or delivered. Evidently
then the dispatch boat was also being used for the mails. Amos began to
feel a little uneasy again.

“All I hope is that we don’t have to make many more stops like this,”
he muttered disconsolately, as they strained their eyes to make out the
shadowy shape of the big sea fighter close to which they had come to,
while the boat was again lowered and rowed away. “Ten precious minutes
each and every time would soon put us on the ragged edge.”

“Oh! they know what they are doing,” Jack assured him. “Right now I
bet you the commander of this little craft has the minutes figured up,
and understands just when he can get to where he expects to run his
boat ashore. And you’ll find that it isn’t going to be done in broad
daylight either.”

Jack absolutely refused to borrow trouble. He had perfect faith in
those keen-witted officers who had control of the war vessels. If they
were not fully competent he believed they would not be filling the
responsible positions they held in His Majesty’s service.

Presently the boat returned, and was once more hoisted aboard.

“This time let’s hope it’s come for good,” ventured Amos.

“They seem to be taking more pains at stowing it away than before,”
Jack informed him, “and from that fact I imagine it’s going to stay
aboard for a spell. Yes, and as we start off you may notice that
they’ve changed the course by several points.”

“Well, it’s little escapes you, Jack, I must say. Now that you mention
it I can see that we are running straight toward that bright star,
while before this it lay on our right. Do you think we’re pointing into
the east now?”

“Well, hardly that,” mused Jack; “rather something like east-by-north
would fit in better.”

At that Amos chuckled.

“Whew! what d’ye think of that now--my chum here beginning to talk like
an old salt, and able to box the compass like any Jack Tar. By the time
we get home you’ll be a regular walking encyclopedia of knowledge.”

“Perhaps I may,” replied the other quietly, “but one thing sure, if I
miss anything it isn’t going to be my fault. Now, as we’re spinning
along at such a fast clip we had better get out of the breeze, and stop
talking so much.”

Amos just gloried in the speed they were making. He mentally calculated
that it must assuredly be close on thirty miles an hour. Never in all
his life had he experienced anything like it when aboard a boat.

As the minutes crept on the boys continued to keep a bright lookout
ahead. They thought several times they could see shadowy objects on the
water, but were never quite sure whether these were boats belonging to
the fleet, or islands. Once or twice they watched the swinging around
the circle of a powerful searchlight, no doubt aboard a sentry vessel.
When it fell on the destroyer and rested there, they knew full well
signals were set to disclose their identity. Then the dazzling shaft
passed on as though the workers of the searchlight had become convinced
of their friendly mission.

An hour and more had gone. Amos was getting nervous.

“I’m sure it can’t be very far from peep of dawn, Jack,” he said,
crossly. “Still, we’re shooting along as if we had the whole night
ahead of us.”

“I wonder what those dim lights can be I make out dead ahead,” ventured
Jack, who himself knew that the dawn was really coming on, though he
did not wish to admit as much to Amos, for fear of increasing the
other’s unrest.

“Why, yes, there are a number of them, too. Try your glass on the same,
Jack. It does pretty good night work, as well as in the daytime.”

A minute later and Jack made an announcement.

“As near as I can make out they seem to be smouldering camp-fires,
Amos.”

“Oh! that must mean we are in sight of the camp of the
Territorials--those fellows from the other side of the world,
Australia, New Zealand and perhaps South Africa. Then it can’t be long
now before we get in close enough to launch a boat, and start for the
shore.”

The minutes passed. Jack saw the darkness was beginning to be
dissipated; already the gray of dawn had come. His flesh tingled with
eagerness to learn what difference that would make. Possibly the
enemy was kept at a sufficient distance from the landing place by the
presence of the troops ashore, so that it was really safe to use a
small boat without any great risk, even in the gray mists of early dawn.

“Oh! see what the sailors are pointing at over there, Jack!” suddenly
exclaimed Amos. “It looks like a pole sticking out of the water, only
it’s moving all the time. Jack, I wonder now can that be the periscope
of one of those terrible submarines?”

And Jack, fastening his eyes on the odd sight, hastened to add:

“It seems almost too strange to be true, Amos, but I do believe you’re
right!”




CHAPTER XIV. LANDING UNDER FIRE.


Those aboard the destroyer had doubtless been on the watch for just
such a sight as this for many weeks. Every seaman had been carefully
drilled how to use his eyes in order to distinguish what the periscope
of a submersible would look like if he ever had the luck to discover
one sticking out of the water.

Jack and Amos, after making sure that this was indeed what they saw,
closed their hands tight as a sensation akin to alarm passed over them.
Would the submarine actually waste one of her valuable torpedoes on
the small enemy, a destroyer? They were more inclined to believe the
under-sea boat would be apt to dive, and thus slip away from danger.

Orders were hastily given. The speed of the boat suddenly changed as
though it were a part of the scheme to confuse the Germans, who might
even then be observing them by means of their periscope.

But this was not to be the sum total of the destroyer’s programme.
There came a sudden burst of firing, and the boys saw the water churned
into foam around the spot where a few seconds before that queer tube
had been sighted.

Nothing could be seen of the under-sea boat, which had evidently gone
down after its custom. Already the destroyer had commenced to circle
around the place, and everyone aboard strained his eyesight in order
to see whether the first sign of the volley from the small guns had
succeeded in its mission.

“Why, how still the water seems to be here,” remarked Amos. “Yet all
around us the sea is moving in choppy little waves.”

“There may be a reason for that,” said Jack. “You know that sometimes
vessels in distress during a storm at sea have found it worth while to
tow a bag of oil after them. It helps to smooth the breaking billows a
good deal.”

“But how would oil come here, Jack, because we haven’t thrown any--oh!
do you mean it looks as if the submarine had been struck when they sent
that volley at the periscope?”

“That’s what I mean, and if you listen to what the men are saying
you’ll see they think the same way,” Jack asserted.

“And if the boat was struck it may never come to the surface again,
which would make a lot of jackies in the big fleet happy, I guess,”
Amos concluded.

The destroyer circled the spot several times, but nothing was seen
beyond some bubbles, and the oil on the surface of the sea. If the
submarine had been wrecked they would never know it, because it must
stay on the bottom of the sea, and the crew be suffocated as time
passed. On the other hand, if it had not been seriously injured by now
it was far away, and proceeding under the surface, perhaps heading so
as to get at one of the battleships.

One of the first things to be done after communications with the shore
had been effected would be to let the commander of the fleet know
about the presence of a small submarine, so that all extra precautions
might be taken against a surprise.

“What happened, do you think, Jack?” wondered Amos, the gunners ready
to let fly with another volley at the first sign of the enemy under-sea
boat.

“Ask me something easy, please,” he was told. “They’re all hoping
the submarine got her death wound, and will never come up again. I’m
a little skeptical about that. It wouldn’t surprise me any to hear
that before long some warship, perhaps a big one at that, had been
torpedoed.”

“Those Germans are seldom caught asleep at the switch, are they?” asked
Amos.

“Oh! they’re no better, no worse than others, I take it. The best of
them will get caught napping sometimes. When they poked their periscope
out so as to take a look around with the coming of daylight they never
dreamed a sassy little destroyer was within a hundred feet of them.”

“Do you think they saw us, Jack?”

“As like as not they did, which would account for the hurry they
showed at sinking again. But the shot covered every foot of the water
around where we saw that spying tube. And these gunners have all been
instructed just how to shoot so as to bring about the destruction of a
submersible.”

“Well, they’re giving it up, you see, Jack, and once more heading
toward the lights ashore. I can see them much better now, so I reckon
all this firing must have aroused the campers, who are starting up
their fires, thinking of breakfast.”

“Another thing you notice, Amos, we’re not going straight any longer,
but with a distinct wiggle, turning first to the right and then to the
left.”

“Then, after all, they’re not so sure about that submarine, and this
motion is for the purpose of avoiding being struck by a torpedo,” Amos
suggested, as though he considered that ample explanation for the queer
movements of the destroyer.

“No, you’re wrong there,” his chum explained. “I think they’ve got in
mind the Turks ashore, who must have a number of batteries mounted
back yonder.”

“You mean they half expect to be shot at from now on?” Amos asked.

“I wouldn’t be at all surprised if we were,” Jack admitted. “Thanks to
the sea fog that is drifting along the edge of the shore, they will
have some trouble locating us. The commander knows what he’s about, you
can depend on it, Amos. And I’m not going to worry any more than I can
help.”

They were by this time approaching the shore, which they could see was
inclined to be rocky and very rough. A shallow beach ran along under
the little bluff, however, and a landing could be easily effected if
they were not subjected to a hot bombardment from rapid-fire guns.

As Jack had said more than once, the soldiers ashore knew very well how
absolutely necessary it was that they should be able to communicate
with the fleet; and on this account he believed they had pushed forward
far enough to render a landing fairly safe.

Before the destroyer came to a stop there was heard the heavy report
of a gun somewhere up on the hillside a mile or so. This was followed
by a great splash quite some distance away from them, showing that the
missile must have been sent almost at random, or else the gun from
which it came had been wretchedly aimed by the Turkish gunners in
charge.

“No German sent that compliment to us,” asserted Jack, who had a high
opinion of the Kaiser’s artillerymen, from having seen some remarkable
results of their gunfire on the western front.

“If it was a Turk I only hope his eyesight keeps on being poor,”
voiced Amos, wondering what it would feel like should a shell strike
the destroyer fairly amidships, though he certainly had no desire to
experience the sensation.

The light was getting stronger now. They, it seemed, had wasted some
time in circling around while searching for signs of the submarine, and
only for this the boys might have been safely ashore before then.

“They’re getting ready to drop the boat overboard,” Amos remarked a
minute later. “That means we’re going ashore. I can see some soldiers
under the little bluff, and they seem to be watching us, as if they
know we are fetching them news from home. There, I saw a chap toss
packages of mail into the boat, which explains the main reason we’re
landing here.”

“One of the men ashore has a bag in his hand, which may contain letters
some of them have written,” Jack was saying. “I wonder if it’s really
true that every letter has to be left open, so no news of importance
could be picked up by the enemy. You know over in England they’ve gone
daffy over the German spy scare; and one of the Tommies out here might
give things away.”

“Come on, Jack, let’s shove along so as to be ready to jump in when
we’re given the word.”

“Afraid we may be left, are you, Amos? But it’s just as well to be
ready, and then no blame for the delay can be put on our shoulders.”

Another shot came from the Turkish battery on the slope of the hill.
Perhaps by now the enemy had caught a glimpse of the gray destroyer
through the little wisps of sea fog that were floating past. At any
rate, the shell fell much closer than that first one had, a fact Amos
viewed with more or less displeasure.

“They’re sure getting the range, Jack. If they keep on improving that
way, by the time the fourth shell comes along it’s going to splash
water over us, if nothing worse.”

“But before then we’ll be in the small boat, and pulling as fast as
anything for the shore,” he was told; for Jack could always find a way
to dissipate those depressing fears that assailed his comrade.

In fact, even before the destroyer had fully stopped moving the rowboat
was dropped overboard, and a couple of men sprang into it. The same
officer who had taken the boys from the battleship motioned them to
follow suit, which they did without the loss of a second, after which
he took his place in the stern and the boat started.

Jack and his companion were seated in the bow. They had an
uninterrupted view of the land, and could see everything that went on
in that quarter.

Amos hoped the Turks might have lost sight of them by now, what with
the sea fog, and the fact that the dawn was only coming on. He dreaded
the possibility of being made a target for one of those terrible
quick-firers that could rattle off the shots like hail beating on a tin
roof.

As he sat there he was staring as hard as he could up beyond the little
bluff back of the scanty beach. Glimpses of the distant hillside where
the enemy lay in ambush could be caught; and since those in hiding were
doubtless able to see as well on their part, the boy wondered whether
their feeling of security might not turn out to be short-lived.

He knew they must take what came, since there was no way of “ducking”
so as to avoid the shower of missiles. Again came that startling flash
of fire far up the hillside. Amos involuntarily drew his head in just
as if that could do him any good. Jack, on the other hand, turned to
glance back at the destroyer, for he felt it reasonable to believe the
Turks would be more likely to spend their precious ammunition trying
to sink a war vessel, than in smashing so small an object as a mail
rowboat with just five occupants.

It was as he suspected. He saw the splash as the missile struck the
water, and close to the destroyer, too. The saucy little war vessel had
been waiting for this, and immediately fired a volley from her guns.
Doubtless small damage, if any, could be effected, for the Turks had
built earthen barricades to protect their batteries. It would serve as
notice, however, that those aboard the destroyer were not in the least
daunted by the bombardment.

At the same time the vessel was seen to be in motion. It was the
intention of the commander to take no chances. He could run out a mile
or so to sea, and await a signal from those going ashore, when once
more the destroyer would come in so as to pick up the boat.

With lusty strokes the two rowers bent to their oars, and the boat
made rapid progress toward the beach where a landing was intended to be
made. If all went well for a few minutes Jack felt that they would be
under the shelter of that bluff, and hence out of range of the enemy’s
guns. But to Amos those minutes seemed the longest he had ever known;
at every second he half expected hearing a crash that would announce
the opening of new trouble.




CHAPTER XV. THE GALLANT TERRITORIALS.


“They’ve discovered what’s going on!”

Amos made this muttered remark in the ear of his chum when a missile of
some sort splashed the water, so that the spray blew across their faces.

Whether the shell had been fired directly at the small boat that was
being propelled toward the shore, or simply fell short when sent after
the destroyer, they could not say, but nevertheless it was a close
shave.

Jack did not answer immediately. His heart was fluttering with
suspense, since there could be no telling what might happen next. If
the Turks had really discovered the boat through the mists of the
early morning there was nothing to hinder them from sending a hail of
missiles that way through the medium of a rapid-fire gun.

The two boys were not the only ones who waited with more or less
anxiety to discover what their fate was to be. When nothing happened,
and seconds passed, with the shore line drawing constantly closer, they
began to breathe more freely.

“I guess it’s going to be all right after all,” ventured Amos, in a
relieved tone that found an echo in Jack’s heart.

“You see we get the benefit of that bluff now,” the latter explained.
“It hides us from the eyes of the Turkish sentries. Perhaps they think
they’ve driven the destroyer off before she could drop a boat, and
they’re giving all their attention to her right now.”

Whatever the reason might be, both of them felt pleased not to attract
the notice of the vigilant enemy. They could by this time see a number
of figures dressed in khaki waiting for them on the beach. They were,
doubtless, members of the Territorial forces who had effected this
landing some little time before, and who yearned to welcome the boat
that might be bringing them letters from their far-away homeland.

Presently the keel ran up on the beach, and as several stout fellows
laid hold of the bow the boat was quickly dragged well along, so that
those aboard could jump ashore without even getting their feet wet.

The officer from the destroyer did not mean to stay any longer than he
could help. That friendly mist might clear away at any minute, when the
task of getting back to his boat would present new difficulties.

He said a few words to one of the men, and the newcomers were told to
accompany the latter up the bank. The two seamen from the destroyer
were ordered to stand by the boat, as their services would be needed
presently.

When they made their way up the little bluff, the boys noticed that the
path led along what seemed to be a gully. They could easily understand
why the Territorials had selected this particular route, since it
afforded them a certain measure of protection from the vigilant eyes of
the ever-wakeful enemy.

Bending low, they soon found themselves on a little plateau. It was
sheltered from above by rocks and trees. At the same time the boys
noticed that everyone who crossed this level always did so in more or
less haste, bending part way over through excessive caution.

“It’s become a regular habit hereabouts, seems like,” whispered Amos,
always noticing things that appeared strange to him, “to duck as you
walk. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that a lot of fellows have paid
dearly for standing up too straight and making targets of themselves.
Then again it may be these Kangaroos from the other side of the world
have some queer ways of their own. All the same, I’m doing it myself,
thank you.”

In a short time they had reached a tent that stood under an overhanging
rock. Undoubtedly this might be called “Headquarters,” for as the
Territorials were just “hanging on,” as they called it, at this stage
in the invasion of the Gallipoli Peninsula, they could not think of
comfort, safety being the first consideration.

An officer was standing at the flap of the khaki tent waiting for
them. Information must have been carried to him with regard to the
presence of the destroyer, and he could readily guess that the boat
carried mail as well as instructions for his guidance.

The officer who had come ashore was anxious to start back. He quickly
handed over the mail sack he carried, and received in turn what letters
were waiting to go, at the same time remarking:

“These two lads are American boys who are turned over to your care,
Colonel. They will be glad to explain how they happened to be aboard
the _Thunderer_. The Vice-Admiral confides them to your guardianship,
and begs that you will render them all the assistance in your power.
You will pardon me, I am sure, for my brevity, but if I am to get back
safely to my boat, I shall have to be in haste.”

“I trust that you will not linger a minute longer,” remarked the
stalwart Territorial officer whom the boys had heard addressed as
Colonel. “Give my regards to the Vice-Admiral, and assure him I shall
take great pleasure in doing as he requests.”

Without waiting any longer, the young officer turned and began to
retrace his way down to the beach, though he did think to shake hands
with both of the boys before leaving them, wishing them the best of
good luck.

No sooner had he left than the Colonel spoke to his guests.

“If you will be seated I may be able to give you attention in a short
time. My brave fellows are fairly wild to hear from home, and this
is the fattest lot of mail we have had for many days. I shall take
great pleasure in listening to your story while we eat our breakfast
together; and rest assured that if there is anything I can do to assist
you, my services are at your command.”

His manner was so extremely hearty that it was not strange for the two
boys to notice it. After he had left them Amos was the first to make a
remark.

“Somehow I reckon there’s a considerable difference between these
Territorials and the Britishers. It strikes me they resemble us
Americans a whole lot, being frank, hearty and breezy. Anyway, I want
to say right in the start I like that Colonel first rate, and I hope he
lives to go back home again to his wife and family when this cruel war
is over; for chances are ten to one that he has a family.”

Jack felt pretty much the same way, though not accustomed to giving
vent to his feelings as readily as his cousin. The Colonel struck him
as being a fine chap, and he felt sure everything possible would be
done to advance their cause while they were the guests of these gallant
Australians.

“I’m glad we managed to run the gauntlet safely,” Jack remarked, after
a little time had passed, “for when that single shot struck the water
so close to our boat I was afraid the Turks had discovered us, and
would proceed to riddle us with a hail of bullets. It was about as
thrilling a minute as we’ve ever passed through.”

“By now the boat must be heading out from the shore again,” said Amos,
jumping to his feet to look, immediately adding excitedly: “Yes, there
she is as sure as anything, with the men pulling like horses. I’m
afraid the mist is rising some, and if that is so they’ll surely be
seen.”

Jack at that got upon his feet to look, and after a pause went on to
remark:

“No, I think you’re mistaken there, Amos, for it has swept down again.
It seems to come and go in flukes. You can hear the stroke of the oars
in spite of the care they use to hide the sound.”

“There goes a gun up on the hill!” exclaimed Amos. “Perhaps the Turks
have such fine hearing that they too have caught the sound of oars,
and are firing at random in hopes of striking the boat, for that shot
struck some distance away. They could hardly hit a barn, anyway, I’m
told, except by accident.”

“There,” said Jack in turn, “some of the troops are shouting, but
between you and me I believe all that row is started to hide the
sound of the oars. Besides, it may divert the attention of the
watching gunners, who are always expecting a rush from these wide-awake
Territorials.”

The boys had heard more or less about the Australian and New Zealand
troops when on board the _Thunderer_. The brilliant work that had
already been done by the men from the antipodes seemed to give the
British the most intense satisfaction. Backed by such stalwart hosts
from the various territories claimed by the Mother country, from
Canada, South Africa, India and the other parts of the world, they
believed the future was certain.

There were no further shots fired up on the hillside, which went
to prove that the attention of the vigilant gunners must have been
diverted by those loud yells that would have done credit, Jack said, to
a band of Western cow-punchers galloping madly into a plains settlement
after pay day for their monthly picnic.

The small boat had vanished from view, and the boys began to feel that
the three occupants were pretty sure to get aboard the destroyer
presently. Relieved by this cheering fact, they felt that they could
once more begin to pay attention to other affairs.

“If these fellows have only managed to get a foothold here,” remarked
Amos, “I’m mighty sure they don’t mean to be dislodged. You can see
they’ve got quick-firers a-plenty, and in time some big guns will be
put ashore. What does it all mean, do you think?”

“Nobody seems to care to discuss it with us,” replied Jack, “but I
can read between the lines that already the losses in warships the
British have suffered has begun to make them fear the job of forcing
the straits is going to be a lot harder than was first figured on. So
they’re beginning to get ready to undertake the thing in a different
fashion.”

“By cutting a way across the peninsula, and commanding the strait
beyond, when they can clean out the nest of Turks, and control
things--of course that’s what you mean; and, Jack, I think myself
that’s the only way to do it.”

Amos spoke lightly at the time, as though he believed that when there
were sufficient forces ashore the obstacles that confronted the Allies
could be easily brushed aside. It took months of desperate hand-to-hand
fighting, with frightful losses on both sides, to convince the Allies
that they had one of the most difficult tasks on their hands that ever
confronted an army.

The Gallipoli peninsula has been admirably fitted by nature
for defense, since it consists of elevations and gullies, with
comparatively little shelter. In these days of murderous rapid-fire
guns and explosive shells an advance under such difficulties presents
a grim choice of death, with very little certainty of any gain save in
yards dearly purchased.

All this was to be learned as the summer progressed, and fall coming on
found the problem far from solved.

“Listen!” cried Amos, suddenly, “that must have been some sort of
signal from the destroyer. I wonder if they have taken the boat aboard,
and started back to where the big fleet lies, with anchors up, waiting
for the day’s work to begin?”

“I think that was what it meant,” remarked Jack. “For one, I’m glad,
for that young officer was a pretty genial fellow--for an Englishman.
As a rule they’re a queer lot, and so reserved that until you get to
understand them well you’re apt to think them cold-blooded and uppish.
But we know different, don’t we?”

“From K. of K. down we’ve met with only kindness from them,” declared
Amos, with sincerity in his voice. “I only hope and pray that we’re
fated to come on my brother Frank ashore here.”

“If not, we’ll get back to the _Thunderer_ tomorrow night, if possible,
and then try to reach that Greek island where some of the seaplanes
start from when doing their little daily stunt. But here comes the
Colonel. Perhaps he’s found time to listen to what we have to tell
him.”




CHAPTER XVI. A COLONEL OF THE “KANGAROOS.”


The Colonel, however, did not stop beside them. He evidently had
letters to read, and wished to look them over in the seclusion of his
tent.

“We will be having breakfast before long,” he remarked to the two boys
on passing, “and I shall expect you to be my guests for the time being.
While we eat our scanty meal you can tell me all you wish me to know.”

Here and there the fires had been built up again, and preparations were
proceeding for the morning meal. This interested the boys. They had
their customary appetites with them; and, besides, were amused to see
how differently these men from the other side of the world went about
certain things in connection with cooking.

It was not long before enticing odors began to arrive that caused Amos
to express himself:

“They know how to cook, let me tell you, Jack, even if their way of
building a camp fireplace does look queer to us. I suppose different
people have different ways of doing things. The result is, after all,
the main thing, and if these splendid whiffs I’m getting mean anything
I’ve got something to learn still.”

It was broad daylight when the Colonel came out of his tent again. Jack
thought he looked as though he had had good news from home, for his
eyes sparkled, and a smile could be seen on his bronzed face.

“Now, if you young chaps will sit down with me here at my camp table,
we can talk while we eat,” he remarked as he joined them.

No one seemed to be at mess with the Colonel. Perhaps this was because
they had duties elsewhere; or else he had let it be understood that he
wished to be alone with the two American boys who had come from the
_Thunderer_, bent on some mysterious errand that was yet to be made
plain to him.

For a short time the conversation was on general topics. The officer
asked many questions, for he had not been in touch with the great
outside world for weeks, and was naturally deeply interested in what
might be going on across the Atlantic.

“I have been through your wonderful country years back,” he explained,
as if to let them know why he took such an interest in America; “and I
think it leads the whole world in many things. Most of us are hoping
and praying that in this terrible world war that means everything to
those who come after us, the Allies have the sympathy of the vast
majority of your mixed people. Of course we recognize that nearly all
who have Teuton blood in their veins would naturally side with our
enemies.”

The boys assured him that as far as they knew that was the way things
stood at the time they left home.

“And now,” continued the officer, kindly, “all I know about you is your
names, so if you feel disposed to tell me what the Vice-Admiral wishes
me to do for you I shall gladly take the matter up, and act upon it,
after today sees us through what we have laid out to perform.”

This was an invitation to begin at the start so as to tell him about
Frank Turner, and how it happened he came to be turned out of his home
some years back. Jack took it upon himself to be the spokesman, for
Amos had insisted on this arrangement. He knew that Jack could gain
more favors through his winning manner than he might ever expect to
have come to him.

Jack did not enter too deeply into particulars. There was no need for
them. When he spoke of Amos’ father having known Lord Kitchener long
ago, and then handed the Territorial officer that wonderful paper which
was now almost going to tatters through long handling, just as both
boys expected, the result was all they could have hoped for.

After that Jack told how they had made their way along through that
section of Belgium held by the Allies; and then, learning that Frank
had gone to Northern France, searched for him there also.

No doubt the Colonel was astute enough to realize that the chums must
have undergone many hardships, and encountered numerous perils while
trying to get on the track of the missing Frank. He did not ask for
incidents, however. If, later on, the boys cared to go deeper into
details he would be only too well pleased to listen; but just now the
rough outlines of the case satisfied him.

How his eyes sparkled when Jack modestly told of their latest
adventure. Like most others who were in the Dardanelles fight, the
Colonel had heard wonderful stories concerning the blockade-runner,
Captain Zenos; and it astonished him beyond measure to hear Jack tell
how he and his chum had trapped the cunning Greek, and finally turned
his cargo and powerboat over to the Allies.

Before the story had been barely finished he was insisting on shaking
hands with the two American lads, after his breezy fashion.

“I am more than proud to have met you, to shake hands with you!” he
declared. “You are boys after my own heart. I can conceive of nothing
finer than the trick you played on Zenos; and the only thing I regret
is that you didn’t see fit to hand him over to our people. That man has
carried a vast amount of shells to the enemy. Many of the Allies have
lost their lives just because of him; and he would never have run the
blockade again, you can rest assured.”

“That was what we feared,” said Jack, “and it bothered us to know
what we ought to do. Circumstances settled it for us. You see, he was
shut up below, with all that explosive stuff. If he believed we meant
to hand him over to the British the chances were that, in a fit of
desperation, he might have blown the boat up, and all of us would have
perished with her.”

“And you made a bargain with him, did you, promising to let him go free
on condition that he behaved himself? Well, my son, after all is said
and done that seems to have been a wise move on your part. Zenos is a
reckless scoundrel, and he knows what would happen to him if caught.”

The story had now been finished, and the boys eagerly waited to hear
what the Territorial officer would have to say. He seemed to be
considering matters, since he remained silent for quite some time.

“As I understand it, Amos,” he finally remarked, turning upon the other
as he spoke, “you have good reason to believe this dashing brother of
yours is now with our force out here at the Dardanelles?”

“We know he started this way, and the chances are ten to one Frank
has been doing some of his usual daring work here. We watched the
aeroplanes and seaplanes soaring over the Turkish forts and batteries
while the fleet was bombarding in the lower part of the straits
yesterday, and something seemed to tell me that the one who dropped
bombs into a fort, and blew up the magazine, _must_ have been my
brother.”

“Very possibly,” agreed the other, with a smile, “although we have some
gallant fliers of our own stock who would hesitate at nothing. Then
your plan is to try and find out as soon as possible if Frank is here?”

“We were given to understand that possibly one or more of the aviators
had found a convenient base on the peninsula, though the main body
had their headquarters on one of the Greek islands some twenty miles
or more away from here. What we planned to do was to first of all
learn whether Frank could be the one ashore, as that would just be
like his venturesome ways; if it turned out to be another flier, then
the Vice-Admiral told us to get back to the _Thunderer_ as soon as we
could, and he would send us to the island.”

The Colonel was rubbing his chin after the manner of a man who might
be trying to figure something out. Feeling sure that he would do
everything possible to further their cause, the boys waited patiently
to hear what he might have to say when his mind was made up.

“I have been given to understand,” he finally told them, “that there is
one of our aviators who has found some place where he can drop down
and rise again, on the shore of Gallipoli; but I am sorry to say I have
not myself seen him. I made inquiries only yesterday and one of my men,
who has been at the camp of the New Zealanders a mile or more above us,
told me he had seen and talked with the birdman. So I understand that
he is taking advantage of the protection they are able to give him. The
ground must differ radically from what we have here, because outside of
one little exposed plateau there is absolutely no place an aeroplane
could make a run to get a start when about to rise.”

Amos looked pleased.

“Oh! did he go so far as to describe the aviator, Colonel?” he asked.
“See, here is a picture of my brother taken some years ago; perhaps
he might be able to tell me from that, if we’re on the right track at
last.”

“I’ll put you in touch with the man as soon as we are done with
breakfast,” advised the obliging officer. “The chances are you will
learn the facts, one way or another.”

“And if he seems inclined to say it is the same person, how can we
manage to get up to the other camp, Colonel?” asked Amos.

“Well, it would be utterly out of the question to think of trying
such a game in broad daylight,” he was told. “We have no boats, you
understand, and when this private was sent off on a mission to our
fellows in the upper camp he was guided by a Greek named Arturus,
who knows every foot of the way. He is still with us, and might be
influenced to undertake to lead you there.”

“Oh! I’m not afraid in the least that he will refuse, after my cousin
has had a chance to talk with him,” said Amos, at which the officer
laughed.

“I believe your faith is not misplaced, for Jack certainly has a
winning way about him,” he assured Amos. “Even if my mind had not
already been made up to help you in every way possible, I think I would
have fallen a victim to his arguments. I have a boy at home who is
as much like Jack here as two peas in a pod--not in looks alone but
manners as well.”

That partly explained why the doughty Colonel of the Territorials
had looked so earnestly and often at Jack Maxfield. The sight of the
resolute face of the American boy had put him in mind of his own son
far away across the seas.

“When can we expect to take this venture, then, sir?” asked Jack,
partly to hide his confusion, for compliments of any kind always made
him turn red in the face, and feel uneasy.

“If tonight offers a fair chance you shall make the attempt,” he was
told. “In the meantime you can meet the soldier who saw this aviator in
the camp above, and also arrange with Arturus. I shall let the Greek
know that I am giving my full permission to the enterprise, and you can
make your own terms with him.”

“He is to be depended on, sir?” asked Jack, whose recent experience
with Greek treachery somehow did not make him feel kindly disposed
toward the inhabitants of the Hellenic islands.

“He is as true as steel, you can count on it. That slippery customer
of a Zenos is an exception to the rule. We look on the Greeks as our
allies-to-be sooner or later, when the proper time comes. And while you
are here today you will be given an opportunity to see something of the
vigorous kind of fighting we have to engage in.”

“Then you mean to tackle the Turks again I take it, sir?” asked Amos,
eagerly, for somehow he had become possessed of an ardent desire to see
how these Australians fought, knowing as he did that their ways were
radically different from those of the regular British troops; just as
their habits of dress seemed to be.

“Yes, but I want you to promise me that you will keep far in the rear,
and not run any unnecessary chances of getting hurt,” the Colonel
proceeded. “While as a rule these Turks are poor marksmen, there are
men among them, perhaps Germans it may be, who can hit the bullseye,
and we have learned this to our sorrow.”

“We promise you, sir, not to expose ourselves, for you know we are
neutral in this awful business,” Amos hastily remarked.




CHAPTER XVII. TO SURPRISE THE TURKS.


“And now,” said the Colonel, “if you are through with your breakfast I
will send first of all for the private who went to the upper camp with
Arturus the Greek, and then, in turn, you can meet the guide.”

He was as good as his word. In a very few minutes a soldier came up and
saluted, a fellow who had discarded the leggings with which he had come
from the other side of the world, and turned up his trouser-legs so as
to keep cool, for the weather was already feeling rather uncomfortably
warm to one accustomed to a cooler climate.

Later on these men from the other side of the world stripped half their
garments off, and fought in that “free-and-easy” fashion, as they
termed it. Some of them must have had the blood of Scottish Highlanders
in their veins.

“Lancing, these two young chaps are American boys who are looking for
an aviator named Frank Turner,” the officer explained to him as he
stood there at attention, as rigid as a stick. “They have some reason
to believe he is ashore here. You told me when you made your report
that you had spoken with an air pilot whose aeroplane was at the camp
of the New Zealanders. Now show him the picture, Amos.”

Amos only too gladly complied. He fairly held his breath while the
stiffened figure of the private put out a hand and took the photograph.
He was looking intently at it now.

“That picture was taken, they tell me, several years back, Lancing,”
the Colonel went on to explain, “so naturally it might not be exactly
like the original as he is today. Now, since you have examined it, can
you say whether the man you met and talked with resembled this picture
to any degree?”

“He does, sir, and he does not,” answered the man.

“Still you can see no reason why they should not be the same, can you?
Is the color of the hair similar, and the general features much alike?”
continued the obliging officer.

“On the whole, sir, I’m tempted to say I have talked with the original
of this picture,” the soldier finally admitted. “Yes, I can see now the
odd little smile around the corners of the mouth that I noticed in the
air pilot.”

Amos gave a gurgle of intense satisfaction. It seemed to him that,
as Jack had declared, their third attempt was fated to meet with the
success that had been denied to them on two previous occasions.

“That will do, Lancing. When you go back send the Greek Arturus to me.
Tell him it is a matter of great importance.”

He turned to the boys after the soldier had again saluted, wheeled
stiffly in his tracks, and walked away in a machine-like fashion.

“It begins to look promising, I am glad to note, Amos, and I sincerely
hope you will be able to find your brother before another daybreak.
Though, like others you have told me of, I am sorry to know you
mean to coax him to leave us, in order to go home. I only trust that
after he has seen his father he will come back again and continue his
wonderful work for our cause.”

The Greek must have been close at hand for he now made his appearance.
Jack was favorably impressed with his bold, resolute bearing. He
likened him to some of those old-time worthies of whose brave exploits
history teems; and whose names are held in reverence wherever Greeks
continue to gather, for they live a good deal in the past.

Arturus listened to what the Colonel had to say. Meanwhile he was
casting covert glances toward the two boys. When he first learned
that he was expected to pilot the pair up to the other camp, through
numberless perils, he had frowned because he deemed it a fool’s errand.
The Colonel soon disillusioned his mind on this point.

When Arturus learned that Jack and Amos had actually captured, alone
and single-handed, the terrible gun-runner and his crew, as well as
turned the cargo and the boat over to the Allies, his manner changed
at once. He evidently knew enough of Captain Zenos to understand that
anyone who could trap him so cleverly was not to be treated with scorn
or derision, even though mere boys in point of years.

It was speedily arranged that Arturus would pilot the Colonel’s guests
to their intended destination when night again fell upon Gallipoli.
Nothing was said as to payment, but Jack felt sure this part of the
matter could be easily settled. With Arturus the wish of the Colonel
was as good as law; and he would have promised to do his part even
without thought of any reward.

The Greek made an engagement to meet them at sundown. He would come to
the Colonel’s tent at that hour ready to explain his plan of campaign.
So he passed away, and Jack, looking after him, noted that the man was
a born woodsman, for he planted his feet on the ground as softly as
a cat, and his eyes seemed to continually rove from side to side as
though nothing could escape them.

“You will have to excuse me from now on, boys, and shift for
yourselves,” they were told by the commander of the Territorial force
ashore on the peninsula. “Remember that you have promised not to take
any unnecessary risks while observing the action today.”

They renewed their assurances, having no desire to expose themselves
to the marksmanship of some German sharpshooter who might be posted up
on the hillside, eager to pick off such of the invaders as he could
discover.

It was not long before there were positive signs of “something doing,”
as Amos called it. The khaki-clad men with their guns began to gather
in squads. There was evidently no attempt going to be made to “rush”
the trenches of the Turks in the conventional way, for the presence of
those quick-firers above cooled all such ardor.

“It’s going to be something like the old-time Indian fighting over in
our own country, you can see, Jack,” asserted Amos, as he and his chum
stood and watched some of these detachments start forward.

“Well,” Jack remarked, “these Territorials, whether from South Africa,
Canada or the other side of the world, all know about those sort of
tactics. Many of them are hunters, or have been cowboys. Others have
had experience with crafty savages, and copied some of the ways of the
heathen.”

“Yes, it’s a good maxim to follow--‘when you’re in Rome do as the
Romans do,’” Amos said reflectively. “They’re going to fight fire with
fire. See how they drop down in that brush, and start to crawling along
like snakes. I’m only afraid we won’t be able to see much of this scrap
after all.”

“Wait a while,” his chum advised. “I reckon that when enough of them
have managed to creep up close to the trenches of the Turks there will
be some sort of a signal given, at which every Territorial will leap to
his feet, and be over the line like so many wolves.”

The anticipation of such a thrilling picture caused Amos to quiver with
eagerness. His only regret was that he himself could not be one of the
select company on whom this gallant advance was to fall; for with his
reckless nature Amos would have liked nothing better.

“I wonder if the Turks look for anything like this today?” he remarked
a short time later, as they found seats where they could rest
comfortably.

“Oh! so far as that goes, Amos, they must be on the watch day and
night, when they’re facing these Territorials. They can never tell when
something is going to happen. But you remember the Colonel told us they
were expecting that the enemy might be somewhat off his guard today,
because this is one of their holy days, when the true Mohammedan fasts,
and devotes a lot of his attention to his prayer rug, bowing toward
Mecca.”

“Now that’s what I call a clever trick--planning to take the Turk by
surprise when his mind’s turned on other things. We’ll soon see whether
it works or not, Jack.”

“Not for some hours, I’m afraid,” the other told him. “They have a long
distance to cover, and very nearly every foot of the same they must
snake their way along. Then there are several gullies lying between
that must be crossed. Likely there’ll be absolutely nothing doing for
some time.”

“We might look up that Arturus, and pump him some, in order to learn
what we can of what’s ahead of us,” Amos suggested. “The country is
terribly rough all around here, and we’re apt to have a sweet time of
it making our way to the other camp, especially in the pitch dark, and
with hawk-eyed Turks roaming around looking for a chance to cut down
the number of their foes.”

Jack thought the idea worth carrying out, and accordingly both kept
watch for the Greek. It was an hour before he came along, but seeing
Amos beckoning, he hastened to join them.

“We said nothing about a reward for your services, Arturus,” Jack told
him, “for the Colonel gave us no chance to mention it. Would you be
satisfied with twenty American dollars? We are not as well supplied
with ready cash as we would like, you understand, Arturus, or we would
double that amount.”

The young Greek smiled until he showed his even white teeth under his
black mustache. He also shook his head vigorously in the negative.

“I am not thinking of the money, I assure you,” he told them. “Listen.
Once upon a time I knew this same Captain Zenos. In fact, I was one of
his crew, and went with him on three voyages. Then we had words, and
he struck me. See, there is a mark, just under my hair, which I shall
carry always with me. I dared not answer him as the rage in my heart
would have tempted me to do; but I was resolved never again to sail
with him. Besides, my heart was not in the work. I detested the cruel
Turks by whom I had lost a father and elder brother in the last war. So
you can now understand why I left Captain Zenos.”

“And it’s a good thing you did, Arturus,” said Amos, warmly. “You
are on the right side now, depend on that, and fighting for all that
is worth while in this world--the coming of a peace that will last
forever, it is hoped.”

“And after I have heard what it was you two boys have done to my former
captain,” continued the Greek, smiling again, “I was determined to
serve you to the best of my ability. I owe you that, and much more,
because in humbling that man you have at the same time avenged my
wrongs. So please do not speak to me of money when I am only too glad
to help you valiant boys.”

They asked Arturus to sit down and chat, for there were many things
they wished to know. These not only concerned the methods by which the
Territorials expected to surprise the Turks on one of their fast and
holy days, but also covered the subject of their intended journey on
the coming night.

The Greek told them what he could of the ground they would be compelled
to pass over. Part of the way they might expect to utilize the sandy
beach, but after getting a certain distance from the camp there was too
much danger attached to that method of progression. Then it would be
necessary for them to worm their way along, something after the manner
the Territorials did when creeping up toward the lines held by the
enemy.

The time dragged slowly, and it became noon.

Amos and Jack had been by themselves for several hours now, Arturus
going about his own business. An oppressive silence seemed to hang over
the scene, where on the preceding day a constant booming of great guns
had made the air quiver with the concussion.

“It looks like there was going to be nothing doing from the fleet
today, because we’ve hardly had a distant glimpse of a war vessel all
morning,” Amos remarked, as he watched some of the soldiers who had
been left behind, for the most part suffering from slight wounds, start
to prepare the midday meal.

“Oh! that’s only to be expected,” Jack told him. “The wear and tear on
the big guns must be something fierce. And then, you know, they have
to take on more ammunition so as to be always ready for business. No,
whatever goes on today will be ashore here; and up to now we’re in the
dark just whether or not the boys can crawl up close enough to make an
attack.”




CHAPTER XVIII. THE BATTLE FOR THE TRENCHES.


Jack had hardly made this remark when something happened. Neither of
the boys could fully decide what the nature of the signal may have
been; but they were sure one must have been given by the leader of the
attacking Australians, far up on the hillside beyond the brown level,
and the deep gullies that cut into the face of the earth here and there.

There seemed to be a salvo of shrill whoops and deeper hurrahs. It was
hard to distinguish the cries of the startled Turks from those of the
assailants coming on with an impetuous rush from the shelter where they
had been lying unseen.

Both boys leaped to their feet as though impelled by hidden springs.
Not for anything in the wide world would they want to risk the chance
of losing the wonderful spectacle of that assault, so cleverly
planned, and so skillfully carried out. It looked from the start as
though the wily Turks had for once been caught napping. The smart
tactics of these “Kangaroos” from the other side of the world had been
too much for them.

Just as the boys had mentioned, this was one of the days when all true
believers of the Prophet fasted, and ever so many times made use of
their prayer rugs in order to show their faith in Mahomet and Allah.

It was a day when their duties were apt to hang lightly upon their
consciences, and unless attacked they had no heart for fighting. But a
Turk has never been known to be a quitter; history has ever reckoned
him a cruel man, but never a coward. Consequently at the first sign of
an attack the defenders of the rude trenches up there on the hillside
flew to their posts, and prepared to sell their lives dearly.

If any of the Allies believed the Turks, being disorganized, and
smarting from recent defeats at the hands of the little Balkan States,
would prove to be an “easy mark,” they soon learned their mistake. It
cost them a multitude of men to find this out, as the depleted ranks of
their regiments amply proves.

From where Jack and Amos stood they had a pretty fair view of the side
of the slope where the fighting was going on. They had selected this
position purposely, having been assured that it was as good as could be
found.

Amos, quivering with a queer sensation, that may have been a love for
excitement, instantly burst forth with expressions of mingled amazement
and admiration.

“Oh! did you ever dream anything could be as fierce as that, Jack? Look
how in twenty places at once they are fighting at close grips, just
like they used to do in the old days before the quick-firers came into
play. It’s a case of bayonet against bayonet. And the same thing must
be going on along the whole line, even if we can’t see it all!”

“It makes my blood run cold, I tell you!” exclaimed Jack, who was paler
than usual, while he had his jaws set, as though forcing himself to
continue looking at the terrible spectacle of men scrambling about up
there on that elevation, each fairly wild to do material damage to his
sworn foes, though he lost his own life in the undertaking.

“One thing you can bet on,” continued the irrepressible Amos. “This
quick rush of the Kangaroos has made all the Turks’ German rapid-fire
guns next door to useless. They are all right when the enemy is rushing
the fort or the trenches in solid ranks, or even in detached bunches;
but when it’s a case of every man for himself they become next door to
old junk.”

“They’re not trying to use them that I can see, as far as the open
lies,” said Jack, speaking very loud, for the jumble of fierce sounds
welling down from the fighting line rendered ordinary conversation
impossible.

“Oh! did you see that soldier rush the Turk down with his bayonet?”
Amos went on exclaiming, as though finding a vent for his feverish
anxieties in thus commenting on the progress of the battle for the
trenches. “I was afraid the man above would prove to have the longer
reach, but just at the last second the Kangaroo jumped into the air,
just like the animal he’s named after does, and came at the Turk from a
direction he hadn’t expected. And, Jack, the Turk went down like grass
before the scythe.”

Fascinated by the amazing sight, they continued to stand there and use
their eyes to the best advantage. Up to this moment Jack had apparently
forgotten all about the glasses he carried in a small case, binoculars
of the best make, and which had proved a valuable asset on numerous
former occasions.

Indeed it was Amos who suddenly reminded him of the fact that he was
losing a good opportunity to view some of these sanguinary doings at
close quarters; and that while they might cause a cold shudder, still,
they were apt to regret it if they allowed the chance to pass by
unimproved.

It might have been noticed, however, that Jack did not show any great
eagerness about making use of the glasses. Perhaps he would rather
have refrained, only for the urging of his comrade; as they saw the
affair without any magnifying it was terrible enough, Jack may have
thought.

He looked for a brief time and then gladly handed the binoculars over
to his companion. Amos could not help but notice that Jack’s hand shook
as with the palsy when he came in contact with it; and this was so
unusual with steady-going, self-contained Jack that the other could not
help shooting an uneasy look at his face.

“Why, you’re as white as a ghost, old fellow!” he exclaimed in wonder.
“Whatever is the matter with you? I don’t remember seeing you like that
before in all my life.”

“Look for yourself,” was what Jack told him, drawing a long breath.
“Perhaps in time a fellow might get used to such awful sights, but it
seems to send a cold shiver to my heart.”

Amos immediately clapped the glasses to his own eyes. He ranged them
along the limited field of vision allowed them from below. Everywhere
it seemed as though men were wrestling furiously with one another,
dealing wicked blows, and struggling like mad for the mastery.

It was very evident that with these dauntless Territorials on the one
side, and the fanatical Turks, fearless of death, on the other, these
gullies and hillsides marking the topography of the Gallipoli Peninsula
would prove to be a veritable shambles before the end came, no matter
which won out eventually.

Amos somehow proved to have the stronger nerves in this crisis. It may
have been that his natural curiosity forced him to keep on looking,
even though from time to time he was compelled to emit exclamations
indicative of horror, amazement, or wildly enthusiastic admiration.

They could see that in places the ground was fairly covered with those
who had already fallen. In the midst of this scene other men still
battled, now slipping down, only to scramble erect again, and go on
with the mad struggle.

In one section the assailants seemed to have carried their point, for
they were climbing over the rude trenches and the barricades which the
Turks had thrown up to protect themselves from the fire of the enemy
below. If the warships shelled the camp they doubtless had holes into
which they were wont to crawl as rabbits might seek their burrows in a
storm.

So far it was anybody’s fight. Honors seemed even, with the Turks
holding their own at one end of the line, and the Territorials pushing
them badly at the other. A little thing might suffice to win the day,
Jack believed.

“I’m only worried for fear reinforcements get there for the Turks,”
Amos was saying as he kept the glasses glued to his eyes, being under
the impression that if Jack wished to have them again he would ask.

“But you can make up your mind, Amos, that all our men have not been
allowed to get into the fight at the start. The Colonel is too wise for
that. There must be a reserve force that can be hurled forward when the
proper time comes.”

“Then I wish it was right now!” cried the other, “because it would
stampede the Turks. They’re just ready to give up, I bet you, if they
saw another force coming up the hill on the run. Why doesn’t the
Colonel see that, Jack? Oh! he’s letting a golden opportunity get past
him, I’m telling you!”

“Trust him to know what he is doing, Amos. A soldier has to learn
tactics in battle as well as on the drill ground. I warrant you our
friend the Colonel has a card up his sleeve, and will show it when the
right time comes. I’ve got an idea there’s a little of the Napoleon in
him, or is it the spirit of Wellington?”

“Oh! that’s too bad, utterly too bad!” cried Amos.

“What has happened?” demanded the other, seemingly quite satisfied to
have the news filtered to him through the medium of his companion.

“The Turks have been reinforced, Jack! I can see new men jumping into
the fight all along the line. Others have gathered back yonder, and
seem to be trying to pick our men off at a safe distance. I’m afraid
the Colonel waited too long. He might have had them on the run before
this; and once a panic strikes in it’s hard to stop a beaten force.”

“Well, these Turks seldom get into a panic,” Jack told him. “They are
more likely to fight and die on the spot, satisfied that they are going
straight to Paradise.”

“But unless something happens right away it will be much too late to
count for our side, Jack!”

“All right! Something _is_ going to happen before you can say Jack
Robinson three times. Look higher up, Amos! There, did you hear a
terrible crash? That came from a big bomb. And now you see who threw
it, don’t you, Amos?”

“An aeroplane, Jack, soaring right along over the battle front, dipping
down low at times, then spinning up again on a slant! See how daringly
the pilot guides his machine along. If the Turks can spare the time to
look up and fire their guns at him, they cut only holes in the air, for
he is going like a whirlwind. There! he is about to drop another of his
bombs. I bet you the old Turks are scattering like chickens when the
hawk swoops down over the field. _Wow!_”

This last exclamation on the part of Amos was drowned by the terrific
detonation that signaled the arrival of the death-dealing bomb. The
boys saw a cloud of smoke instantly rise. They also noted that in the
immediate vicinity the Turks were displaying the wildest confusion.

“There are things, you see, Jack,” Amos was calling triumphantly, “that
can strike terror to the heart of even a fanatical Turk. He can get
used to meeting cold steel in the shape of bayonets, and even the flash
of guns close at hand doesn’t faze him; but a shell, or a bursting
bomb, makes him turn tail and run.”

“It does look that way, Amos,” admitted Jack, still watching the
singular train of events that was passing before their eyes as though
it might be a panorama on a big screen.

“Oh! if there were only half a dozen of those aeroplanes instead of
just the lone one, I believe they’d soon have the victory clinched. The
Turks never could stand a rain of bombs from the skies, and they’d
skedaddle over the brow of the hill like scared deer.”

“Are you looking at the man in the flier, Amos?” asked the other.

“You may be sure I am, Jack, as hard as ever I can.”

“And do you think it can be your brother Frank; because this machine
must be the one we heard had landed on the peninsula at the upper camp?”

“I wish I knew; I certainly would give a heap to be sure. Jack, you see
he’s got his head all muffled up; and with goggles on even his brother
wouldn’t know him in that disguise. But something tells me it _must_
be Frank. From all we’ve heard about his dashing work I feel that no
other air pilot could take such desperate chances as that fellow does,
and carry it through. Frank was known for a bold boy years and years
ago. He would stay all night in a house they said was haunted; and
Jack, he found out that the noises came from the air whistling through
a knot-hole. _Now_ his scare held off the Turks. They can’t win!”




CHAPTER XIX. AFTER THE FIGHT WAS OVER.


“Why do you say that, Amos?” demanded Jack, quickly.

“Oh! because our reinforcements have arrived,” replied the other,
exultantly. “Look further down the hill and you’ll see them leaping
forward like tigers. They act as if wild to get in the scrap; and
when they do it’s all over with Mr. Turk on this day. They have made
up their minds to take those trenches and they’ve just got to do it,
that’s all.”

Jack had felt all the thrills that such a picture is apt to bring in
its train when the heart beats in full sympathy for one or the other of
the combatants. He had tried his best to keep from taking sides, but
found it impossible, when he believed that the principles for which the
Allies were fighting were the same as those of the big republic across
the sea.

It was easily possible for him to see the new line of the Kangaroos
bounding impetuously up the side of the slope; binoculars were not
needed to disclose their furious rush. The sunlight gleaming on their
set bayonets caused them to glitter as though set with diamonds; but,
alas! they would not always remain so bright.

Jack watched with his heart beating much faster than its wont. He
wondered if, when those new men reached the fighting line, they would
carry all before them. The loud cries of Amos broke in upon his
figuring.

“I can see German officers up there, Jack, as sure as anything!” he
exclaimed. “Oh! I know them from their uniforms, and the way they act.
They are even beating some of the poor Turks to make them fight harder.
Oh! what d’ye think, one of them actually shot a fellow who may have
been running away. That shows the Germans are the masters here.”

Jack was glad he had not seen what his chum was describing so vividly.
There were enough terrible things to be discovered without that.

By now the newcomers had struck the line. Their rush was fully as
impetuous as any football squad had ever used to carry things before
it. Indeed, doubtless many of those fighters from the other side of the
world were used to the tactics of the gridiron, and could apply their
knowledge of formations to good advantage, even on the field of battle.

The influence of the supporting column was immediately felt. Where the
Kangaroos had begun to waver their line was stiffened. Men who had felt
themselves almost at the point of succumbing received a new stimulus,
and with fresh shouts once more threw themselves upon the staggering
foe.

The coming of the lone aeroplane had in a measure discounted the
addition to the ranks of the Turks. They evidently knew they could
expect no other reinforcements, and the fact gave them the sensation of
having to face defeat.

More furiously than ever did the Allies charge them. They would not be
denied the victory they could now see looming up close at hand.

“Jack, they’re giving way, I do believe!” shouted Amos.

“Do you mean the Turks?” asked the other.

“Sure I do. You don’t think for a minute I hope that those brave
Australians would fall back as long as one of them could stand. Yes,
there goes a bunch of the enemy. They bowled one of those German
officers off his feet when he tried to stop them. I hope he’s captured,
that’s what I do. And, Jack, all along the line there’s a sign of
giving way. Hurrah! I really believe the game is won!”

“Hold on, don’t shout too soon, Amos,” warned the more cautious Jack,
though for that matter he himself had hard work to hold in. “They may
counter-attack, you know. When you hear the Kangaroos yelling like mad
you may believe the victory is safe, but not yet, not yet.”

Nevertheless hardly a minute more passed than Jack himself was obliged
to admit that it looked as though others besides Amos believed the end
of the fierce engagement had come; for loud and victorious whoops
reached their ears from all along the line.

These were echoed back by those who, from one cause or another, had
been kept in camp, and not permitted to assist in cleaning out the
enemy trenches. Amos raised his strong young voice, and gave numerous
examples of what he could do in the way of adding to the din.

Outside of a football field after a close and exciting game Jack
believed he had never before heard such a racket. The brave fellows up
on the hill, who had thrown the Turks out of their trenches by bayonet
thrusts, and close in-and-out fighting, waved their hats, and let their
lungs have full play.

“Why, would you believe it, Jack!” cried Amos, when he finally stopped
his loud cheering and became rational again, “I can see many of the
wounded fellows on the ground trying to wave their hats, and I guess
they’re yelling too. But not all of the down-and-outs are doing it, I’m
sorry to say. Lots of them lie there as still as anything; and I’m
afraid the taking of the trenches has cost a stiff price.”

Jack sighed.

“That’s always the case, Amos,” he went on to say. “You must be willing
to pay the toll if you want anything worth while. And the better the
prize is the greater the price. When those chaps from Australia want
anything they will never stop till they get it, as long as there are
any of them left.”

It could now be seen that those above were not stopping to rejoice over
their victory. They knew the Turks were likely to come back as soon as
they could meet with reinforcements, and some other German officers
again took charge.

The rapid-fire guns that had been captured with the trenches were
immediately turned, and placed so as to pour a hail of missiles
on their late owners should the battle be renewed. Others of the
same species were to be seen being taken up the hill, having been
kept somewhere below in order to cover the retreat in case such a
catastrophe befell the Allies.

“It was all splendidly planned, Jack,” said Amos. “I give the Colonel
credit for having a long head. Still, the result might not have come
just as easily as it did were it not for Frank--well, whoever the brave
pilot of that aeroplane may turn out to be.”

“He certainly did help a whole lot,” admitted Jack. “Let’s hope he
proves to be your brother; also that he settles down on Gallipoli
tonight instead of flying across to that Greek island where the rest of
the pilots have their headquarters.”

“Oh! I guess he will stick here,” Amos hastened to say, as though the
wish were father to the thought. “Especially after he’s been able to do
such great stunts for the Kangaroos.”

“I suppose now they will be pushing their line further, if they can
only hold those trenches up on the hill,” Jack suggested.

“And so this is going to be the way the peninsula will be won in the
end, if it ever is won?” Amos questioned, as though he found it hard
work to believe all those massive battleships, capable of throwing
tons and tons of mighty shells, were unable to force a passage through
the Dardanelles.

“That has to be left to the future to decide,” Jack told him. “There’s
a big ‘if’ connected with everything undertaken these days. You can’t
tell what a week will bring on, with these Balkan States hanging in
the balance. If they could only settle their differences, and join the
Allies, it would mean the beginning of the end.”

“Someone is calling to us, Jack, and I believe they mean that lunch is
all ready to serve. Come to think of it, I’m really hungry! Suppose we
walk over and sit down. I wonder how those tired chaps up there will
get anything to eat.”

“I’m thinking of something else, Amos,” ventured the other, seriously.
“We must get through with our bite as soon as we can for it strikes me
two husky fellows like ourselves ought to make themselves useful as
well as ornamental in such a crisis as this.”

“Do you mean we can help carry some of the wounded down where they can
be looked after in the temporary field hospital?” asked Amos, showing
decided interest in the matter.

“That’s about the size of it,” Jack told him.

The guess Amos made concerning the meaning of the call turned out to be
correct. Evidently the Colonel had left strict instructions looking to
the comfort of his young guests while he was away, and the cook had not
forgotten them.

Both of the boys pitched in with avidity. The food was good, and they
had not lost their appetites in spite of all the sensations that had
come so near overwhelming them during the course of the last hour.

They wasted no time in useless conversation, for both boys realized
that with so much suffering on the slope above they ought to be doing
what they could to assist those who had been so kind.

No sooner was the hurried meal finished than they started off. No one
questioned or ventured to detain them; in fact every man seemed to be
as busy as the proverbial bee about that time. The boys met processions
coming down the hill bearing the wounded on stretchers, some of them
improvised since the force had managed to effect a landing on the
hostile shore.

Most of these poor fellows were bearing up bravely; they even tried
to wave a hand when they met any comrade, and through the blood marks
of their pale faces a wan, forced smile would appear, as though the
indomitable nature refused to cringe even when death was so very near.
Others, more desperately hurt, groaned dismally, though perhaps they
did not themselves know it.

Finding a stretcher that had not been taken, Jack and his chum pushed
resolutely on up the hill. There was danger that at any moment the
Turks, returning, might let loose a rain of fire from new positions;
but even this possibility failed to deter the two American boys when
they saw their duty before them.

When a short time later they arrived at the scene of the dreadful
carnage their hearts felt sick within them, for after all they were
only boys, and not accustomed to such dreadful surroundings.

Nevertheless, if their faces did seem white, their teeth were grimly
set, and it was evident they did not mean to allow any squeamishness to
prevent them from accomplishing the Samaritan work they had set out to
perform.

“Here’s a poor fellow waiting to be looked after,” said Amos, as they
glanced about them for some moving figure whom they could assist.

The soldier was badly hurt in the leg. He had managed to tie his red
bandana handkerchief tightly around the limb to prevent his bleeding to
death. Evidently he must have refused to let them carry him down to the
hospital when others were in greater need of surgical attendance than
he.

The boys heard him start to say something to that effect as they came
up. Jack, however, saw that the man was really growing weak, and was
carrying his splendid self denial to an extreme point that might bring
about his collapse.

“We’re going to carry you down, my friend, no matter what you say,” he
told the gallant Kangaroo.

Accordingly they placed him on the litter as easily as possible, and
after that started down the slope. On the way, whom should they meet
but the Colonel himself! He must have been in the thick of the battle
for he had one arm tied up, and his uniform showed several rents as
though made by vicious bayonet thrusts. At sight of the two American
boys and their burden the doughty officer smiled affably.

[Illustration: On the way, whom should they meet but the Colonel
himself!--_Page 233_]

“Good for you, my boys!” he exclaimed. “It is a pleasure to be
entertaining guests who believe in lending a helping hand. We need all
the assistance we can get, for we paid a terrible price to gain the
victory. But the trenches are ours, and all the Turks and Germans on
Gallipoli never can throw us out of them again. I will see you before
night comes; there is too much to be looked after just now to give a
thought to your affairs. Thank you again a thousand times, boys!”

He hurried away up the hill, evidently to look after the placing of his
men, as well as the quick-firers upon which they must depend to repel
any new assault on the part of the furious enemy.

When the boys reached the field hospital, which had been established
under the bluff where no Turkish guns could drop missiles upon the
wounded despite the Red Cross flag, they found it a busy place indeed.
Scores of injured had already been brought in, and the few surgeons
with their assistants were hurrying from one case to another. They
themselves would be ready to drop when the last patient had received
proper attention.

The boys did not linger, it may be taken for granted. They had no
desire to look upon the accumulated suffering to be found there under
the bluff on that warm day. No doubt as long as the sun remained above
the horizon plenty of work would be found for those who were not needed
to man the advanced line. Even after all the injured had been taken
care of the dead must be buried, both friend and foe alike, for the
protection of the living.

After wandering around for a short time above, and not seeming to find
a wounded Territorial, Jack ventured to make a proposition.

“Here’s a poor Turk who seems to be in a bad way,” he said. “I’m going
to give him a drink of cold water, and then we’ll get him on our
stretcher.”

Amos looked curiously at his chum, but almost immediately cried:

“You’re right there, Jack; they can feel their injuries just as much as
the rest. It was only proper that the boys should take care of their
own first; but depend on it they’ve got too big hearts to let any enemy
lie here in this hot sun and want for a drink of water. There, you can
see they are carrying a Turk down on that stretcher.”

Just then Jack gave vent to a cry that betokened some new thrill, and
Amos turned quickly to see if the enemy had come in sight again, bent
on a fresh attack.

“Do you see that dead man lying there on his face, Amos?” Jack
demanded, pointing as he spoke. “Look closer and you’ll see he is no
Turk but one of those arbitrary German officers we saw trying to force
the men to fight.”

“I see what you mean, Jack. He didn’t die from a Territorial’s blow.
There is a bayonet through his body, a Turkish sword bayonet, and it
came from behind him.”

“Yes,” said Jack with a shudder, “one of the Turks he may have struck
with the flat of his sword repaid the blow. But let us go on and get
this man down to the emergency hospital. Then we will come up again,
for there are many more Turkish wounded needing attention.”

So they worked diligently on, plodding back and forth, and during that
warm afternoon many a feverish Turk called down the blessings of Allah
upon the heads of the two friendly American boys who gave him cold
water to freshen his parched throat, and then bore him to where his
injuries might be attended to.




CHAPTER XX. STARTING ON A DANGEROUS TRIP.


The long day came to an end at last. None of those who had taken part
in or even witnessed the glorious taking of the Turkish trenches would
ever be likely to forget the experience.

All the wounded had been carried to the temporary hospital. If a vessel
could be summoned by wireless they were to be removed to some other
place, where they might be nursed, and brought back to health without
constant danger of being under fire.

Many of the dead had also been buried. The work in this respect,
proving too stupendous a task for one day, had to be dropped for
another time. Besides, it was really of greater importance that the
safety of the living be looked after than the disposal of those who
were out of the fight for good.

The boys had done all they could to lend a helping hand. On every side
they received words of gratitude and praise. It heartened those valiant
fellows from the antipodes to find American boys standing by them in
this emergency. Small although the circumstance might seem to them, it
meant much, for they chose to feel that they had the moral backing of
the vast majority of Americans in their struggle against the military
ideas formulated by the Teuton ruling families.

And now the sun was setting. It went down like a great glowing ball
of fire, as though in keeping with the terrible work of the day. It
somehow made Jack think of an interesting story he had read in a
paper, concerning a famous battlefield where thousands had fallen, and
telling how, in the following year, the ground was a mass of fire as
innumerable red poppies bloomed. The superstitious peasants declared
that the earth had refused to hold all the blood with which it had been
drenched on that awful day.

Although both Jack and Amos felt somewhat tired after so strenuous
an afternoon, at the same time this was not going to deter them from
trying to reach the camp of the New Zealand troops further up the
shore by a mile and more.

The Colonel had given them his promise, and they believed he was one
who always kept his word, no matter how much he might regret it. They
had seen him at intervals during the rest of the afternoon, but never
to talk to, for he was always hurrying this way and that, personally
seeing that the newly acquired trenches were being put in a state of
defense so that no matter how fiercely the Turks attacked they would be
beaten back.

“I wonder,” ventured Amos, as they watched the big orb dip lower and
lower until its rim was hidden beneath the watery horizon that lay in
the far west, “I wonder now if I’ll be with Frank when the sun peeks up
again tomorrow.”

“There seems to be a pretty good chance that way, I’m ready to admit,”
Jack told him. “In fact, it strikes me we must by this time be pretty
near the end of the long trail. First we missed connections with him in
Belgium; then came that chase through the French war trenches; and at
last the trip to the Dardanelles. Believe me, you’re going to lay hands
on Frank this time, anyway, Amos. You need something like that to put
new heart in you.”

“Well, as a rule I’m not so easily discouraged, Jack, and you know it;
but again and again I’ve been cheated out of even getting a glimpse of
my brother, and it wears on a fellow, you see.”

“Change the subject, and you’ll feel better,” his chum advised. “For
instance, do you think you could eat any supper? It looks to me as if
we would soon be called to join the Colonel and two of his officers
yonder.”

“Evidently he means to keep Headquarters down here yet a while,”
speculated Amos.

“Well, as yet they’re not so sure they can hold the advanced line. They
fully expect to be attacked between now and morning, when there’ll be
some more terrible work going on; only this time it must be up to the
Turks to do the attacking.”

“Then, you mark my words for it, they’ll suffer an awful loss, Jack.”

“I agree with you,” said the other quickly. “Like the Germans, they
believe in massed formations when making assaults. In these modern days
of quick-firers that is a risky thing to do. It may carry everything
before it like a football rush does, but at a frightful cost.”

Presently the call to supper reached the boys in the shape of a message
from the Colonel. He greeted both with a pleasant smile, and asked that
they make themselves at home at the rude camp table where his meals
were served.

The conversation for a while ran upon the stirring events of the day,
and the listening boys learned how the plan of campaign had been
rigidly adhered to from beginning to end. Evidently the Colonel fully
believed victory would have been their portion even though the daring
air pilot had refrained from attacking the enemy with his bombs, and
creating the first decided feeling of apprehension among the enemy. At
the same time he frankly acknowledged the material assistance his men
had received from this work on the part of the aeroplane man.

“If he was your brother, Amos, give him my compliments when you meet
him, and thank him heartily for my Territorial tigers. He helped us not
a little by scattering the enemy at just that critical moment. His work
was as dashing as anything I ever struck; and it’s plain to be seen
such a birdman is a brother to be proud of.”

Those were pleasant words to Amos. They seemed to repay him for all he
had gone through with on that awful day. Frank was his brother, and
he would much sooner hear him praised than listen to any amount of
commendation for himself.

It was not until after the two officers had left the table to hurry
to their positions so as to be in the harness for the night that the
Colonel referred in the least degree to the contemplated expedition of
the two American lads.

“I suppose you have made all your arrangements with Arturus before now,
boys,” the Colonel remarked presently.

Jack explained to him what they had done, and after hearing all about
it the Colonel shook his head.

“I’m more than half sorry now I promised to let you make the attempt,”
he told them. “The dangers will be multiplied after the defeat the
Turks have suffered today. They come down in places to the very shore,
and you are apt to run upon some of them at any time. I’m afraid they
will be feeling unusually ugly after the way my boys handled them.”

“But there seems to be no other way for me to get to the upper camp,
Colonel,” remarked Amos eagerly.

“I’m sorry to say there isn’t at present, since we have no boat; and
I understand just how anxious you must be to learn the truth. So I
suppose I’ll have to salve my conscience by saying there’s no help for
it. But I sincerely hope nothing may befall you on the road.”

The heartiness of his words, as well as his manner, convinced Jack that
the Colonel felt more than a passing interest in their welfare. Perhaps
the fact that Jack seemed to remind him of his own son, thousands of
miles away from there, had more or less to do with that circumstance,
though not everything.

They continued to chat as they sat there. When Jack began to see that
the mind of their host was evidently turning toward his own affairs,
of which he had enough to worry over, to be sure, he concluded that it
might be well for himself and Amos to say good-bye.

“Here’s wishing you every good thing that your hearts long for,” said
the Colonel, as he squeezed their hands at parting. “I hope you find
your brother, Frank, and take him home with you to that old father who
longs so to see him once more. I also deplore the necessity for his
going, because he will be sorely missed here where every good man is
needed.”

The boys would often think of the valiant Colonel. Should they return
in safety to their native shores he had given them his home address
where they could, if they chose, learn what his fate turned out to be.
He spoke of the uncertain future with the grim look of a brave man,
and said the chances were his life would have to be laid down, like
countless others, for the cause they fought to win.

Jack had already glimpsed the young Greek, Arturus, who seemed to be
hovering near by as though waiting for them to leave the hospitable
board of the commanding officer. Presently they were joined by the
intended guide. Jack, looking him over again, saw no reason to alter
the former good opinion he had held of Arturus. He would prove loyal
through everything, and they could place the utmost reliance on his
honesty as well as his courage.

“It is yet too soon to start,” he told them; “much safer that we wait
until another hour has passed. Then it may be we will stand a better
chance of passing through without meeting any Turks who have come down
near the water for some purpose.”

Accordingly they all sat down and talked. Jack was not sorry of a
chance to pick up some information concerning the route the Greek
expected to take them over. Besides, he believed that, with a little
encouragement, Arturus might tell them about some of the desperate
undertakings in which, with Captain Zenos, he had been engaged in times
past.

So the minutes glided on until finally the Greek announced it was time
for them to be moving. The boys were soon ready, and the three of them
glided out of the camp, no one offering the least objection, for the
sentries had all been informed about their contemplated perilous trip
to the upper camp.

Up to the time of their departure no sound from above proclaimed that
the Turks in augmented numbers had come back to try and recover their
lost trenches.




CHAPTER XXI. THE HIDDEN BATTERY ON THE SHORE.


Talking was not to be encouraged during this secret night trip up along
the strip of coast stretching between the camps of the Australian and
the New Zealand contingents of the fighting Territorials. If there
arose any necessity for exchanging remarks, great care was to be taken
to whisper in the lowest tone possible.

Arturus, the Greek guide, had told the boys there was every likelihood
of their meeting detachments of the Turks somewhere on the way. The
enemy moved about more or less, seeking new positions which they
believed would be to their advantage. More than this, they were very
fond of night attacks, and would go to great trouble to surprise the
entrenched invaders.

On this account, then, the boys had made up their minds to be surprised
at nothing. They hoped to get through in safety, and would do
everything in their power to bring about such a desirable result.

Several things favored them, they had figured. In the first place the
night was rather dark, though when their eyes became accustomed to
their surroundings they were able to see fairly well. Then there was
the fact that both boys were good at this sort of thing, being well up
in most of the rules of woodcraft; so that they were not apt to stumble
clumsily along, and constantly threaten to betray their presence to any
lurking foe.

Best of all, Jack considered, was the fact that they had engaged
the services of a skillful guide in the person of Arturus. He knew
every foot of the ground, for most of his life had been spent on the
Gallipoli Peninsula. Consequently they would have the advantage of
being led around certain gullies that might have proved barriers or
traps to anyone unacquainted with the vicinity.

Jack had amused himself during the afternoon in seeking a position that
was a little elevated, where he could get something of a view of the
territory beyond. Here, with the aid of his binoculars, he had tried to
figure out what might be the easiest way of advancing.

When, soon after they had departed from the camp, he found that the
guide was beginning to turn toward the edge of the water, Jack was not
much surprised. Indeed, he had wondered why this might not prove the
easiest method of covering the space separating the two camps.

Upon mentioning his belief to Arturus, Jack had learned that part of
the trail did lead along the sandy stretch that hugged the shore. The
only trouble was that some of the Turks were in the habit of coming
down to the water during the night, and this being the case they were
likely to stumble upon the enemy at any minute.

A sharp lookout was necessary to prevent discovery. No matter how
lonely their surroundings might seem they must not be off their guard.
Amos had been duly impressed with the fact that silence was golden in
this case, and all comments he might feel inclined to make would have
to be left until another time.

Presently they could hear the sound of the waves running up on the
sandy beach. It chanced to be an unusually quiet night. Even out on the
deep water there seemed to be nothing doing, though far away the boys
could catch the flitting gleam of searchlights playing at tag with the
darkness, as the vessels of the fleet stood guard.

Had the wind chosen to rise and rattle the leaves of the stumpy trees,
as well as dash the rollers against the shore with more or less of a
resounding clamor, it would have served their purpose much better.
Still, they had to take conditions as they found them, and make the
best of it.

Every rod placed behind them counted. Arturus had assured them it was
not more than a mile and a half at the most which they had to cover
before reaching the vicinity of the other camp.

Now a distance like that may seem a mere trifle when the road is
good, and the traveler has daylight to show him what obstacles he
must surmount. When he finds it necessary to grope his way along
over the roughest of ground, avoiding many threatening pitfalls,
listening constantly for signs of lurking foes, and meeting with every
conceivable manner of trouble, the case becomes a more serious one.

Amos had started with a light heart. He fancied they would certainly
be able to tide over the gap inside of an hour or two. Looking back he
could remember several instances when he and Jack had done such a caper
as this without exerting themselves unduly. He therefore felt that
before the end came they would surprise the guide with the abundance of
their knowledge concerning Indian ways. Darkness had little terror for
Amos at starting time.

They had not gone very far, however, when he began to realize that he
was up against a pretty hard proposition, a much tougher one than he
had imagined could confront them.

There seemed to be some sort of rough road along the shore. It could
not have been much of a thoroughfare in its palmiest days, and long
neglect had caused it to become a hollow mockery, had one attempted to
drive any sort of vehicle that way.

For a short time after leaving the camp Arturus had been leading them
along this road. Now he dropped down and sought the shallow beach, and
Jack guessed that the going would be better there.

In this he found himself correct, though they had to keep close to
the little bluff, and stop to listen every minute or so for signs of
hostile forces ahead.

Amos was trying to figure out what distance they had covered. The only
way he knew of accomplishing this was according to the steps they took.
He had worked that all out, knew the number of feet in a mile, and
counting two to a step believed he could tell when they had passed the
half-way mark.

When, according to his deductions, they had actually made one-third of
the distance, his hopes began to mount higher. Why, after all, this was
not so very bad; he felt positive they could get to their destination
in due course of time; and thinking thus Amos was actually patting
himself--figuratively of course--upon his back.

Then something happened as usual to throw down all these fine castles
in the air. Arturus came to a sudden pause. He held out both hands as
though to prevent either of his charges from advancing another step.

Standing or half crouching there they strained their ears to listen.
Low sounds reached them as the night air took a new slant just then,
striking directly in their faces.

There was the mutter of voices for one thing, and then came a queer
clinking noise, followed by more grumbling sounds. Jack jumped to the
conclusion that they must have stumbled upon a nest of the enemy, who
for some reason had taken up a position at this particular spot where
the scrub grew thickest, and they could more easily lie in ambush.

The boy wondered what reason the Turks could have for hiding here;
and what that strange clinking sound meant. Possibly Arturus, who
was better acquainted with such things, would be able to understand
it all. He had hardly come to this conclusion when he felt the Greek
guide pushing him gently back. This Jack knew meant they must retreat
for a consultation; and taking hold of his chum’s arm, he commenced a
retrograde movement.

Amos did not like it. He evidently feared the Greek guide had been
seized with what might be termed in boy’s parlance, “cold feet,” and
meant to give up the undertaking. That showed how poorly Amos had sized
up the young Greek; Jack knew better, and was perfectly willing to
continue to trust the pilot of the secret expedition to the end.

When they had gone back a little way Arturus bade them halt, and in a
low whisper started to explain what it all meant.

“It appears that the Turks have brought one of their biggest guns down
to the shore here since I was over the trail last,” he told them. “It
is a battery hidden in the rocks and brush. Some time they hope that a
warship it come close to the shore in the daytime. Then a shot from the
big gun sink her easy. So they hide here, and wait their time.”

“But does that spoil our trip, Arturus?” asked Amos fretfully.

“Not at all. We must only go around instead of following the beach, or
the old trail. It takes us longer, to be sure, but after all what is
time when we have the rest of the night before us? You come along with
me, and I show you how it can be done.”

Of course this intelligence pleased Amos immensely. His heart grew
light again. After all it was going to be only one of those little
troubles which they must surmount before they could hope to attain
their cherished end. The more they had to battle with these impediments
the sweeter victory would be finally.

They accordingly climbed up the little bluff, taking care not to make
too much noise, though Arturus did not seem to believe the Turks
manning the hidden big gun battery could be very watchful.

Having accomplished this part of their task, the guide led them
further back from the shore line. It was fearfully rough. At times they
were almost compelled to get down on their hands and knees in order to
make progress; but in spite of all this they persisted diligently, and
in the end reached what Arturus must have considered a reasonably safe
distance from the battery.

Here he changed his course, and once more headed up the shore,
intending thus to make a half circuit, so as to come out upon the
neglected road above the enemy’s position.

By this time Amos had changed his mind not a little. He figured that
when everything was considered this night’s adventure would take its
place among his most difficult feats. Truth to tell, he could not
remember the time when he had undergone such a strenuous “crawl” as
this was turning out to be. His hands were scratched by thorns and
sharp-pointed rocks, while his knees threatened to be placed in the
same category. In spite of it all, Amos did not venture to complain--he
only shut his teeth tightly together, and mentally vowed to keep up the
fight until he dropped; for he believed the goal to be near at hand
now, and victory was worth all that he suffered and even more.

After a long siege of it the boys noticed that again their course was
changed. This seemed to tell them they must have passed the battery in
the brush and detached rocks, so that it would be safe to edge their
way down to where the going would be somewhat better.

Once they arrived at that long disused road, it was to be hoped they
might continue along it to the end, for it would likely fetch them to
the camp which the New Zealand troops had succeeded in making above.
This they knew was close to the water’s edge, for thus far it had not
been possible to improve the position the Territorials had seized on
first landing.

Finally they struck the old road, and Amos mentally shook hands with
himself as he figured on easier progress. This certainly was a night
long to be remembered. He wondered if there could be any other queer
experience awaiting them before the goal was attained.

Hardly had Amos allowed himself to think along these lines when there
came a sudden glare of white light. It was as though a dozen full
moons had been uncovered from dense clouds overhead, sending their
concentrated rays down upon the lonely shore of Gallipoli.

Looking up in a startled way they could see a moving object faintly
outlined against the star-studded heavens. A constantly increasing
shaft of dazzling light poured down from this hovering object, and
seemed to center upon a spot just a little way in their rear.

Jack guessed what it meant almost instantly. He realized that it must
be some kind of aeroplane carrying a searchlight, though he had not
known of such a thing before. Swiftly Jack figured out the rest of it.
During the day just passed, while soaring over the peninsula before or
after the battle for the trenches, this air-pilot must have discovered
the hidden battery in spite of the care the Turks had taken to conceal
the big gun.

No doubt the necessary information had been sent to the commander
of the fleet who could arrange plans looking to the smashing of the
battery while darkness lay upon land and sea.

Out there a mile or two, doubtless, a battleship was ready to open fire
at the proper time. The aeroplane hovering above was signaling to show
just where the battery lay. Imagine the sudden fright of those Turkish
gunners when that astonishing glow so suddenly fell around them, and
remained stationary.

Before Jack could open his lips to mention what had flashed through
his active mind there came a flash and a dreadful boom far out at sea.
The unseen war vessel had discharged one of her guns, having the exact
range, and being guided by the friendly light from above.

Amos involuntarily dropped down flat on the ground, in which action he
was immediately copied by the two others. They were none too soon, for
the earth fairly quaked under the mighty explosion that followed. The
shell had burst very close by, and Jack was of the opinion that the
estimations of the British gunner must have been remarkably accurate.

If the Turkish battery had managed to escape that first explosion there
would very likely be more coming along. The intense white light from
above continued to cover the spot in a most tantalizing way; and there
was no means for shutting it off. The guide called out just then:

“Come, we must make off as fast as we can before another shell falls.
This time it may be closer to us, and we may be torn to pieces. Hasten,
everyone. Do not mind little things like that,” he added, as Amos in
his extreme haste fell over some obstacle, and measured his length on
the rough ground.

They had not gone much more than forty feet when again came that flash
out at sea. Once more they threw themselves flat in hopes of being able
to escape the flying missiles better when in this recumbent position.
The dreadful explosion was as awe-inspiring as the first had been; and
Jack noticed that if anything this shell landed closer to where that
big Turkish gun had been hidden from sight, with the intention of some
day surprising an incautious vessel of the Allied fleet.




CHAPTER XXII. PERILS OF THE TRAIL.


“That must have done some damage, I reckon!” gasped Amos as he
struggled once more to his feet, ready to push steadily on again.

They had heard a series of shouts, some of them indicating pain, and
others an acute degree of terror. Evidently the Turkish gunners were
being demoralized by this firing. The bursting shells were working sad
havoc in their midst.

But Turks have ever been known to show bravery under fire, and Jack was
not so very much surprised when there came a bellow from the rear that
made the earth quiver. The big gun hidden in the brush and rocky spurs
had been fired, perhaps almost at random, to prove to the enemy that
although betrayed by that searchlight from above the gunners were ready
to die at their posts.

The two boys and Arturus were all hurrying along by that time,
eager to put as much space between themselves and the danger zone as
possible. More terrible shells were bound to fall in that limited area,
and since the Turks would be utterly unable to move their big gun it
stood a good show of being finally smashed.

So accurately did the gunners on the warship manage to drop their
missiles that there seemed no further danger of one falling close
enough to the boys to injure them. On this account then they no longer
threw themselves down when that flash over the water announced the
speeding of another projectile.

Amos, being now filled with a natural curiosity to observe the effect
of the bursting shells, actually turned his head to look back when
the next shot came. He would never forget the dreadful sight when the
great shell exploded. The whole vicinity seemed to be illuminated by
the glare, and Amos believed he could see unfortunate men being hurled
right and left, as well as logs and stones.

“Oh! that was the time they hit it!” he exclaimed, when the fearful
thunder of the explosion had died away.

“Do you mean they smashed the big gun?” asked Jack, who apparently had
not been looking at the time.

“Yes, I’m sure of it,” the other went on to assert; “for I saw the
shell burst, it seemed to me, right against the cannon. You’ll hear no
more from that piece, I give you my affidavy, Jack. It was beautifully
done, and I take off my hat to the bullies out there in the gloom who
could find their mark so quickly.”

“But the searchlight keeps on playing down on the spot,” suggested Jack.

“They’re trying to make sure of the result,” Amos declared. “You’ll
soon see I was right about it, when they send a signal out to the
battleship that there’s no need to waste any more ammunition.”

Somehow they were so fascinated by the idea that all of them stood
there, and continued to watch. The air pilot even swooped down lower as
though bent upon making absolutely sure before sending word to the war
vessel waiting to hear from him before continuing the bombardment.

“There, what did I tell you?” exclaimed Amos, with a ring of triumph in
his voice.

The aviator above had suddenly switched off his light, and dense
darkness fell upon the scene. No further crash from off over the water
came to the ears of the listening boys. The only sounds they heard
consisted of cries from wounded men, and a faint faraway whir that must
be the aeroplane winging its way back to its former post.

“It’s all over!” said Jack, almost solemnly; “another gun knocked
out of business, and from what they say, the Turks can’t afford to
lose many more these days, when it’s so hard to get them through from
Austria and Germany.”

“We must go on,” said Arturus just then, “for we may be overtaken by
some of the Turks fleeing from the place.”

“But did you notice, Jack, that the aeroplane seemed to fly away _up_
the coast and not out to sea?” ventured Amos.

“Well, now, I hadn’t thought anything about that until you spoke; but
now you have mentioned it, Amos, I believe that’s a fact.”

“Of course we couldn’t see anything,” continued the other, “but I took
great pains to follow the sound, and it kept right along ahead of us.”

“From that you figure something out, of course?” asked the other. “I
can give a pretty good guess what it is.”

“That aviator must have been the same man who hung over the trenches
today, and dropped so many bombs,” Amos ventured. “We know he came from
the upper camp; and I feel dead sure he was my brother Frank. If that’s
so, then here he’s gone and distinguished himself again.”

“It certainly looks as if Frank might be in the front rank of the
Allied pilots if it turns out as we believe,” Jack permitted himself to
say; “but now we’d better quiet down again, Amos. Arturus doesn’t like
to have us chattering away like this, even if it is in whispers.”

“Because we are not yet out of the bushes,” added the Greek guide
suggestively, by which they understood him to mean that with half the
distance still to be covered there always existed a possibility that
other enemies might be encountered.

Jack, as he walked along in the wake of Arturus, was thinking very
naturally of what wonderful things this war had already brought forth,
what with its Zeppelins, the submarine raiders which Germany was
letting loose to prey upon the fleets and commerce of her enemies; the
marvelous big guns which were able to smash the most formidable steel
defences known to modern military science; and the amazing trenches
made of concrete which existed for hundreds of miles along the fighting
line in Northern France and Belgium.

He wondered what would be the next marvel brought out by one side or
the other. At that time the asphyxiating gases of the Germans, and
the dreadful liquid fire had not been used; but Jack could easily
anticipate something along these lines.

As for the aeroplane, it had proved its wonderful strategic value a
thousand times over. Its uses were manifold, from scouting to dropping
bombs in daylight raids over enemy country and barracks. Jack had
already seen enough of these things to convince him that the country
which had an abundant supply of both submarines and giant aeroplanes
could carry things their own way in the future.

“Listen!” said Arturus all of a sudden.

“We are being pursued!” whispered Amos, as he plainly heard voices
from the rear, accompanied by other sounds that might spring from men
stumbling while hurrying madly along the rough trail.

The Greek drew his charges aside, and crouching amidst the bushes, they
waited to ascertain what it could all mean. Closer came the sounds.
They could now make out that the men rushing headlong toward them were
Turks. Jack wondered if they could really be hunting the three who
had passed around the hidden battery just before it was bombarded so
successfully from out at sea.

Moving figures now caught their attention, three of them, and all
stumbling along in the most reckless fashion. From their excited manner
Jack immediately made up his mind they must be remnants of the force
of gunners who had had charge of the battery. Wounded by some of the
flying missiles when the shells burst around them, they had fled in a
panic, that kept them pushing on even after the danger seemed past.

They shuffled by the spot where the boys were concealed, and went on
up the shore. Jack’s first thought was that this was a peculiar thing
for them to do, since they must certainly know that the camp of the New
Zealand troops lay not so very far away in that direction.

“What do you make out of it, Arturus?” he asked, softly.

“They belonged to the battery, and have been badly frightened,” the
guide replied. “I have not before seen Turks show such alarm. It must
be what you call the panic has gripped hold of them.”

“Yes, I can understand all that,” continued Jack, “but why should they
keep on up the shore? A safe retreat for them would be to take to the
hills.”

“That is something we do not know,” answered the guide, seriously, “but
it may be we will soon find out. It was no accident, that is sure; and
I believe there may be other Turkish forces between us and the camp.”

“Whew! again?” muttered Amos, thinking of that terrible climb they had
been forced to take in order to pass around the concealed battery.

The sound of the fleeing Turks had now subsided. Either they had passed
beyond hearing or else managed in some way to curb their panicky
condition. At the very least it meant they would have these three
enemies to contend against, and must therefore be constantly on their
guard.

If anything, the ground grew rougher than before. Amos believed so
since he tripped more frequently, though that may have come from his
weariness. It had been an exhausting day for the boys, what with
their work as Red Cross stretcher-bearers, and a lot of other duties
performed by them. Any boy might well have confessed that he was
almost worn out from fatigue; and it was the wild hope of meeting his
missing brother Frank that kept Amos up, more than his will power.

They had not been moving along for more than ten minutes in this slow
and cautious fashion when again Arturus, the Greek, came to a stand.
Instinctively both of the boys immediately strained their hearing to
ascertain what sounds may have reached the ears of the guide. And what
they managed to catch gave them to understand that a large body of the
enemy must be straddling the trail ahead, for some purpose or other.




CHAPTER XXIII. WITH THE NEW ZEALAND CONTINGENT.


“Wait here until I return!”

The Greek guide whispered these words in Jack’s ear, thus recognizing
the fact that he knew which of the two boys could be accounted the
leader.

Without explaining what he meant to do he left them, and his form was
speedily swallowed up in the gloom. Amos hardly knew what it meant,
though, of course, knowing that Arturus had not basely deserted them
thus.

“What’s up, Jack?” he asked, cautiously.

“He believes there is a large body of Turks on the road ahead, and has
gone to find out,” Jack told him after he had placed his lips close to
the other’s ear.

Amos only grunted. No doubt he was beginning to believe there never
could have been a more difficult undertaking than the one they were
now engaged upon. Troubles seemed to be following quick and fast on
each other’s heels--first that battery, then the task of passing around
it, and now something else.

Crouching there, they waited as patiently as they could for Arturus’
return. In the meantime they listened, and could catch sounds that
told of many men being close by, a fact that seemed to prove Jack’s
conclusion sound. The Turks must be gathering a force with the
intention of making a night attack on the little New Zealand contingent
beyond, expecting to take them by surprise and sweep them into the sea.

He did not tell Amos this, not wanting to discourage the other, who had
already met with so many disappointments. It stood to reason, though,
that if the “Kiwis” were dislodged, and either captured, or forced to
take to their boats, the aviator must vacate his little field where he
had held forth, venturing on so many daring trips.

The minutes dragged terribly. Every now and then Amos would let fall a
great big sigh, proving how this delay was cutting him to the heart.
Surely Arturus must have had ample time by now to find out all he
wanted to know, and should be back with his companions again. But Jack
refused to let himself suspect anything like treachery on the part of
the guide, whose measure he had taken in the start, and in whom he put
the utmost trust.

Presently he was relieved to hear a slight sound as of someone
approaching. It came from the proper direction, and he felt sure
Arturus was returning.

A figure could now be dimly made out; still neither of the boys so much
as moved a finger. They were waiting for something more definite to
identify the other.

“Jack, Amos!”

When they heard their names breathed ever so softly they knew it was
all right, and that Arturus had come back; so they immediately hastened
to join him.

“It is even worse than I believed,” was the first thing he told them.

“They are Turks, of course?” asked Amos, never forgetting for a moment
the need of extreme caution when making any communication.

“Yes, hundreds of them gathered there,” he was told. “It is their
intention to creep around and attack the camp from the east. Already
many of them have started up among the rocks, and the rest expect to
follow.”

“Oh! we must manage some way or other to warn the troops, or they may
be caught napping, and all of them killed,” Amos went on to say.

“What is the best plan of campaign, Arturus?” asked Jack in his
customary direct way; for he knew that action alone could secure the
end they had in view.

“We can wait until all have left the road and then pass on,” explained
Arturus; “or if we please we might reach the beach, and proceed that
way.”

“They may happen to leave a few men behind them to watch the road,”
suggested Jack. “On the whole, I think it our best plan to take to the
shore.”

“Just as you say, and I myself believe that is the safest way,”
admitted Arturus.

“Then let’s be moving right away,” begged Amos.

There was no objection to his plea, and consequently they turned to
the left, for the water lay in that quarter. Once more they lowered
themselves down the little bluff, and if a few stones were dislodged
they expected that the sounds would, even if heard by the nearby Turks,
not be deemed suspicious, or worthy of investigation.

Once they struck the sandy strip where the little waves came running
up close to their feet, all of them felt vastly relieved. If only they
could creep past the danger spot, they would very likely be on the home
stretch, and could reach their destination without further trouble.

The voices of the Turks reached them more plainly as they pushed on. It
meant that some of them were squatting on the very bluff overhead; so
that if the trio expected to pass unobserved they must continue to be
exceedingly careful.

All Jack hoped for was that none of the Turks would happen to be down
by the edge of the water. If that proved to be the case they would be
compelled to postpone their passage until the last of the followers of
Mahomet had withdrawn, following the rest of the detachment up the hill.

Jack placed implicit confidence in Arturus, and the Greek did not
fail them. He kept as close to the bluff as possible, while advancing
all the while; and quite naturally the two boys copied his example,
recognizing the value of it.

In this way they gradually managed to creep past the spot where the
Turks on the little bluff above kept up their low-toned conversation.
Possibly Arturus understood what they said, but it was useless for
either of the others to try and grasp the meaning, since the Turkish
tongue was a sealed book to them.

When this had been accomplished, and they could feel that they were
safely by, both boys felt pleased. A heavy load was taken from the
chest of Amos, so that once again he could encourage himself with fresh
hopes.

Their progress was now more speedy, though Arturus still kept on his
guard. Jack admired the fellow more and more as he saw him work. He
felt sure Arturus must be a born scout, and in the service of the
Allies ashore on Gallipoli would prove himself to be a valuable man
indeed.

From this time onward all of them were keenly on the watch for some
sign ahead to indicate the presence of the Territorials. They did not
mean to take any chance of being shot at by some vigilant sentry, who
may have discovered their coming from his post in the darkness, and
mistaken them for a straggling party of the enemy.

As it was no longer possible to advance any further along the beach,
owing to their having reached a place where the waves ran up against
the rocks direct, the guide had once more led them to the forsaken
shore road, and they were now moving along that.

It was about this time that Jack sniffed the air. He had caught a whiff
of tobacco smoke, it seemed to him. Possibly one of the sentries had
managed in some way to roll a cigarette, and was enjoying a few puffs,
hiding the light as well as he could with his hands.

Arturus, too, must have caught the same odor for he had come to a
pause; and all of them seemed to be trying to pierce the black curtain
ahead in hopes of picking up a tiny speck of fire that would betray
the presence of the soldier. After all, it was Amos whose sharp eyes
discovered what they sought. He gripped Jack’s arm and pointed,
although it was difficult to follow his extended hand.

Jack, however, saw a tiny glow. The night air, too, came from that very
quarter, showing how the odor of tobacco smoke had been carried to them.

“Lie low in case he fires at us, and let me challenge him,” he told the
others.

His voice must have faintly reached the unseen sentry, for there came a
quick hail, and they plainly heard the click of a gun-lock.

“Who’s there?” demanded an imperative voice.

“Don’t fire! We are friends!” called out Jack, lying behind a rock,
for it was not at all certain what the sentry might do.

“Where did you come from?” asked the other, suspiciously, as though he
imagined this might after all be some clever trick played by German
officers, and intended for his undoing.

“From the lower camp, and with word for your commander,” Jack went on
to say. “So be kind enough to summon help and have us conducted before
him. There is need of haste, too, because right now the Turks are
closing in around you, and mean to spring a surprise attack.”

Apparently this startling information aroused the sentry, for he gave
some sort of signal, and immediately afterward the tramp of feet
announced the coming of several others.

The boys could hear them talking together. Then another voice, invested
with more or less authority, reached them.

“How many of you are there out there?” came the question.

“Three, two American boys, and the Greek guide, Arturus,” Jack
replied, thinking it might hurry things somewhat if he explained in a
satisfactory manner in the start.

“Advance one at a time, and remember that any sign of treachery will
mean your death!” came the gruff voice, evidently belonging to a
sergeant.

Jack stepped out first, and quickly found himself in the company of
half a dozen men in khaki, great, tall fellows they were, such as so
many of the Territorials seemed to be, as though they grew giants out
there in the Eastern Seas.

Faces were thrust close to Jack. One man even struck a match the better
to see.

“He _is_ a boy, all right!” affirmed this party, as the match went out.

“We are just what we told you, two American boys, and the Greek,
Arturus,” Jack repeated, impressively. “We must see your commander
without a minute’s delay. You are in great peril, and the news we bring
is of vast importance. Besides, we have a letter for him from the
colonel commanding the Australian forces in the lower camp. So please
hurry up.”

The sergeant was apparently fully satisfied by this time that it could
not be a cunning trick engineered by some of those Germans whom they
knew to be among the Turks. So he told them to follow him, and ordered
several of his giants to trot along in the rear with their guns held
ready.

Amos cared little for all this. The main thing in his mind was that,
after all, their perilous undertaking seemed to have reached a point of
success. He only felt a cold hand clutching at his heart occasionally
when he feared that Frank might never have been on Gallipoli after all,
and that the daring aviator whose work they had watched and cheered was
a total stranger.

Presently they found themselves in the camp of the New Zealanders. The
khaki-colored tents had been erected here and there in places that
seemed to afford the highest degree of safety. Doubtless there were
also cavities in the rocks into which the men retreated like conies
whenever there was danger of the camp being under shell fire from some
distant Turkish redoubt or trenches.

Straight up to one of the tents they were conducted. Several men were
sitting on camp stools, smoking their pipes, and apparently engaged in
quietly discussing the plans of campaign that had been laid out for
their guidance, because Jack saw immediately that they were officers.

The coming of the little group evidently surprised them considerably,
for they were not in the habit of having visitors. When they did come,
it was from the fleet, bringing supplies and ammunition, and more
quick-firing guns with which to hold the savage Turks at bay when they
fought to hurl the men in khaki into the sea.

“Who are you, and where did you come from?” asked one of the officers,
evidently the commander-in-chief of the little New Zealand force.

“We are two American boys who have been with the battle fleet, sir, and
sent ashore by the Vice-Admiral on board the _Thunderer_. We were in
the lower camp yesterday and witnessed the fight when they captured the
Turks’ trenches.”

At that the officers uttered various exclamations of satisfaction, for
up to then they were not absolutely sure what the result of the battle
had been.

“Our errand to your camp, sir, is a personal one,” continued Jack; “but
it can be explained later on. The first thing we want to tell you is
that on our way here we came upon a very heavy detachment of the enemy,
leaving the old shore road to swing around on your front. Our guide,
the Greek, Arturus, here, is positive they mean to attack your position
sometime between now and morning.”

At that every man sprang to his feet. Although they were constantly
anticipating such news, when it did come, it produced a profound
impression.

“Are you there, Arturus?” demanded the commander-in-chief, discovering
the young Greek, who was evidently well known to him from previous
meetings. “Do you back up all this young chap has been telling us?”

“It is the truth, General,” declared the guide. “They are in heavy
force, and mean to give you a hard fight for your position. It is
their aim to drive your force into the sea.”

Then followed quick, sharp orders, showing how well prepared the
“Kiwis” were to accept the gage of battle. Under arms every minute of
the day and night, ready to meet each emergency as it arose, they were
not likely to be harried out of the position they had gained on the
Gallipoli shore by any surprise tactics on the part of the sly enemy.

Presently there was no one with the newcomers save the
commander-in-chief himself. He insisted on shaking hands with each of
the three by turns.

“You have done us all a great service this night,” was what he told the
boys as he squeezed their hands. “We are always prepared for trouble,
but ‘forewarned is forearmed,’ you know, and on this account the notice
you have brought may save many precious lives. I shall be sure to see
you later on, if alive, and anything I may be able to do for you, that
you can command of me.”

With that he turned and left them. Doubtless he had duties himself to
perform, and did not believe in leaving every detail to subordinates.
These soldiers from the islands of the sea and across the broad
Atlantic were more inclined to follow the French methods of kindly
treating their men than to follow the austere German or British plan.
They were on good terms with every private in the ranks, and there was
a certain degree of familiarity between officers and men that bound
them closer together.




CHAPTER XXIV. AN ATTACK THAT FAILED.


Left to themselves, the two boys sought a place where they could make
themselves comfortable. The camp stools looked inviting, but cautious
Jack shook his head when Amos proposed occupying them.

“I think we can find a safer place than that,” he remarked. “Just as
like as not some Turkish spies have had a look-in at this camp, and
marked the position of the General’s headquarters. If they have any
guns along they’ll be apt to hurl a few shells around here, and it
wouldn’t pay us to take the chances.”

“Whew! I never thought of that,” admitted Amos, always ready to agree
with his chum.

Wandering around the almost deserted camp, they presently selected a
location where they might see something of what was going on. They
could easily understand that the position taken by the Territorials
had been made as impregnable as the conditions allowed. No doubt
there were trenches and barricades behind which the troops could work
their many rapid-fire guns, and their repeating rifles as well. Being
born marksmen, they would take frightful toll of the Turks when they
advanced to the attack in their customary solid formations, urged on
by German officers, who from the rear would threaten to sabre or shoot
anyone daring to turn back.

All seemed silent save for the sound of the sea fretting along the
shore. Amos could hardly believe that right then and there hundreds
upon hundreds of Allied troops were getting in position to man the
defences of the camp; and that some thousands of ferocious Mussulman
fighters were creeping along not so very far away with the avowed
intention of rushing the works after the manner of reckless fighters,
careless of their lives.

Amos had not forgotten the main reason for his being there in the camp
of the gallant New Zealanders. As he sat there and glanced this way
and that, trying to make things out in the uncertain light, he was
wondering just where the little level plateau lay from which the bold
aviator took his flights, and landed again after he had sufficiently
harassed the enemy.

It surely was somewhere close by, for unless well within the lines he
could never have come and gone with safety. A thousand thoughts were
racing through the agitated mind of Amos Turner, though the main theme
lay in his fervent hope that here at last he might meet the brother for
whom he had been searching so long.

He believed he would know the best or the worst by the time day dawned
once more. If Frank was there they must inevitably meet; the General
had promised to do anything that lay in his power to help. If again
doomed to disappointment the shock would prove most cruel.

Amos and Jack occasionally exchanged a few sentences, but for the most
part they lay there on the ground, simply waiting to see what would
happen.

An hour, perhaps two of them, had passed since the boys reached camp.
Indeed, Amos had actually dozed several times, so that he was utterly
unable to keep track of time. He scanned the heavens and believed it
must be getting well on toward midnight. Would the Turks attack soon,
or had they for some reason given up the plan? Amos even wondered
whether the General might not believe they had been mistaken in their
warning, and accordingly act less cordially toward the boys.

It was while he was ruefully contemplating some such dire possibility
as this that the first shot was fired some little distance away.
Instantly a transformation that was certainly wonderful took place.
Several searchlights flashed into being, and criss-crossed in a hasty
manner as the manipulators sought to show up the advancing enemy.

“They’ve got everything fixed, you see!” Jack exclaimed, as both of
them jumped to their feet in their eagerness to see all they could.

Loud shouts were now heard. They evidently sprang from the advancing
Turks, filled with fanatical zeal, and determined to sweep everything
before them, as they had undoubtedly been assured by their German
officers could be easily done.

Amos held his breath. He knew what was bound to follow, and the thought
of the hail storm of missiles that would presently be hurled upon the
attacking party filled him with dismay; for he had seen the terrible
results of such work at close quarters before then, and would never
forget it as long as he lived.

That first shot must have been fired by some advanced vidette, who,
satisfied with having thus given the alarm, had hastily retreated along
lines previously laid out for his guidance.

You have often heard the sudden, sharp crash of thunder immediately
after a most brilliant flash of lightning--well, to Jack’s mind that
was about what the sudden discharge of a gun close by sounded like, it
came with such startling abruptness.

Immediately afterwards other sounds chimed in--the whirring rattle
of quick-firers, the volleys of those in the trenches, and the
stentorious shouts of the excited men from the other side of the world
who were filled with the enthusiasm of battle.

The advancing Turks also made themselves heard, for they shouted at the
top of their voices, even as red Indians had been wont to whoop when
attacking some log cabin in an Ohio clearing, or a wagon-train on its
way across the plains.

The clamor grew in volume. The Turks were firing as they came on,
though those they sought to slay were doubly screened both by darkness
and the barricades behind which they stood or crouched, each man acting
mostly on his own initiative. The searchlights were destined to turn
the scales of battle against the charging Turks, Jack imagined. Those
powerful streams of light playing along the enemy’s lines betrayed
their every move, and afforded the Allies a splendid opportunity to
spray their columns with the fluid of death that leaped from the
muzzles of those quick-firers.

Nor was this all.

In the midst of the terrible noise there came a dull boom from out on
the water. Some battleship must be there in the darkness, possibly the
same one that had so lately destroyed the hidden battery on the shore
below. The men aboard knew to a fraction just what the distance was,
and that brilliant light showed them where to land a shell.

Jack heard a peculiar sound that may have been caused by the passage of
the monster shell overhead. Then came one of those terrible shocks, and
they could see the flash as the explosion took place.

It struck him as nothing short of miraculous how those experts aboard
the battleship could drop their shells exactly where they chose, with
darkness around them; but that was just what happened, for the monster
exploded in the very midst of the charging Turks, and must have created
a panic among those who survived.

Having seen some of the craters dug by the shells hurled from the
famous forty-two-centimetre guns of the Germans along the fighting
line in Belgium and France, Jack could easily imagine what a pit had
followed the crash, swallowing scores of the Turks. But the dismay
among the attacking troops was but momentary. They had been primed for
a victory, and were not to be cheated so easily. Once more they were
coming on, a surging mob, with the rain from the pulsating quick-firers
cutting swathes through their ranks.

If you have ever watched a farmer swinging his scythe, or the mowing
machine pushing through the wheat or oats, you can have a pretty good
idea of how men fall in windrows when a bevy of those modern guns are
in action. Those who manipulate them constantly change the position of
the weapons so that the discharge might be compared to the result when
anyone handles a hose to sprinkle the lawn or the family garden. Some
have even likened it to the machine for whitewashing or painting great
buildings like those erected for Expositions; only instead of the pure
white the result of this spraying is _red_.

Both Amos and Jack stood there watching most anxiously. Those shouts
were so insistent, and the clamor so dreadful that they could be
easily pardoned for feeling more or less nervousness. If, after all,
the Turks swept irresistibly forward and carried the trenches of the
Territorials, what the result might be no one could more than guess.

Both lads felt that they had much at stake in the success or failure of
the valiant defence being put up by the men from the eastern seas. They
tried their best to gauge the rise or fall of the tide of battle from
the awful sounds that came to their ears; but it was all such a mixture
of shouts, jumbled orders, cries of pain or savage triumph, that this
was found to be impossible.

Again the battleship off the coast sent another shell ashore. This
landed in the rear of the Turks, for they were now so close to the
trenches that the British naval gunners did not dare take the chances
of harming their own allies. The effect of the bursting shell was bound
to dampen the enthusiasm of the already despairing Turks, Jack felt
confident, and that counted for something.

Listening he presently decided in his own mind that the ferocious cries
of the assailants seemed somewhat subdued. This might spring from the
fact that so many had already gone down under that merciless spraying
process. It was also possible that those who were left had become
disheartened, and were by degrees giving it up.

When this suspicion grew stronger in his mind, Jack felt a thrill of
relief. Then, after all, it was not going to be a massacre of the
Kiwis; they were not to be thrown into the sea, as the Turks had openly
boasted they would do when they got ready to attend to their case. In
fact, the shoe seemed on the other foot.

Losses would have been incurred by the Territorials, to be sure, for
they had been subjected to a hot fire at close quarters, besides
having many of the onrushing Turks meet them in a bayonet charge; but
the trenches had been held against all opposition. Doubtless, too,
the enemy had received a severe lesson from this rough handling.
They would be more careful after this night how they attacked the men
from New Zealand. If ever they tried to rush those trenches again, it
must be in overwhelming numbers, so that they might carry their point
through the sheer exhaustion of the defenders.

“It’s all over but the shouting, I guess, Jack!” cried Amos, when
the noise began to rapidly subside, though the terrible searchlights
continued to flash back and forth, picking out small detachments of
the retreating Turks upon whom the exultant gunners could turn their
“hoppers,” as some of them called the rapid-fire guns.

“And the camp is saved in the bargain, though we have still to find out
at what cost,” replied Jack, himself greatly pleased with the handy
fashion in which these fighting units of Territorials had carried
themselves under fire.

Although they could hardly expect another attack that night, still
one of those searchlights would undoubtedly be kept busy covering the
ground above. Meanwhile the wounded must be looked after, for there
were many casualties on the side of the Allies, the Turks fighting for
the trenches until many of them were literally thrown out on the point
of the bayonet.

“Here’s where we can make ourselves useful again, Amos,” suggested
Jack. Although greatly wearied after all they had gone through with
since dawn, the boys could not rest easy when there was need of their
services.

Accordingly they sought out the first officer they could find, and
asked to be assigned the task of helping to bring in the wounded,
stating that they had only too willingly shouldered their share of
the burden in the other camp, after the glorious fight by which the
Australians had extended their holding on the shore. And, of course,
the officer gladly gave them permission to use a stretcher, for as most
of the troops were still holding the trenches there was need of all the
help they could secure.




CHAPTER XXV. FOUND AT LAST.


For fear lest the revengeful Turks might seek to shell the camp after
their recent serious defeat it was deemed unwise to use much light. Men
went about with electric hand torches, where they had them, and sought
out the wounded. Then these were placed on stretchers and carried down
to where a temporary field hospital had been arranged, so that their
injuries might be cared for.

As the Territorials had for the most part fought within the line of
their own trenches it was not difficult to find those who were in need
of tender care. Jack and Amos were surprised at the number, for they
had not imagined the fight to be of such a desperate nature. Evidently
the Turks had attacked with their customary dash and recklessness,
even throwing themselves into the enemy trenches to grapple with the
invaders of Islam territory.

There were also quite a number of gallant fellows who would never
again, alas, return to their far-distant native shores. They had
yielded up their young lives in the great cause for which they believed
the Allies were fighting--universal freedom from the horrible idea of
militarism. The boys felt sad when they gazed upon these victims of the
Turks’ ferocity; and deep down in their hearts both of them fervently
hoped and prayed that the sacrifice of so many valuable lives on both
sides would not have been made in vain.

They soon found themselves busily engaged. Having already had
considerable experience in handling a stretcher, they knew just how to
go about the caring for the wounded. Indeed, it was doubtful whether
any of those among whom they took their place carried themselves more
admirably.

Back and forth they went, their feet dragging a little, for they were
very tired, but determined not to flinch while another poor fellow
remained to be taken to where he could be looked after.

So, by degrees, the last of the wounded had been found out. The boys
had come down with a poor chap whom they had found trying to keep from
bleeding to death after having made a rude tourniquet of his large silk
bandana handkerchief, possibly a last present from his girl at home.
Being somewhat experienced themselves in the surgical arts, the boys
had hastened first of all to rearrange this, so that it would do its
work better; after which they had placed him on the litter, and made
their way down to the emergency hospital with their burden, the man
having fainted in the meantime from utter weakness and exhaustion.

There was really no need of them climbing the rise again, for word had
been passed around that all the wounded had now been taken care of.

Jack could give a pretty good guess what was on the mind of his chum
when he saw Amos begin to glance eagerly around as soon as they found
themselves amidst the busy scenes of the field hospital.

“He is thinking of Frank, and the chance of learning something about
him here,” was what flitted through the brain of Jack as they bore
their groaning burden toward the place where several army surgeons were
working steadily.

To tell the truth the closer Amos came to realizing his ambition, which
as we know was to find his brother, the greater his fears arose. He
dreaded lest after all his long search he might discover Frank just
a little too late. The daring aviator was accustomed to taking such
fearful chances in his chosen vocation that there must always be heavy
odds against his coming through alive.

And when Amos saw the steady stream of men in khaki being carried to
the operating tables he stared hard at each and every one as though
really afraid deep down in his brotherly heart he was fated to find
Frank there, a mangled wreck, and utterly beyond the task of going
back home to say good-bye to the father who yearned to receive his
forgiveness.

Jack had an idea just then, which he hastened to communicate to his
chum.

“Take your chance and ask the head surgeon about Frank,” was his
suggestion.

“I believe I will,” replied the other, not without a perceptible
shudder. “He might know of him, for of course most of the news of the
camp is heard at the headquarters of the surgical staff. Thank you for
speaking about it, Jack.”

They soon found means to dispose of their burden, and both boys were
relieved when they heard that by now the field had been well scoured by
men with stretchers, and that apparently the last of the wounded had
been brought in.

The Turks really behaved better than the boys had dreamed would be the
case. Indeed, many times they heard some of the Allies speak in terms
of respect and admiration for the generosity of the Turkish soldiers,
and often bitterly comparing it with the ferocity and apparent cruelty
they had met with on the part of others among the Central Powers
fighters.

So Amos, watching for an opportunity, presently approached the head
surgeon. This party was a grizzled veteran who doubtless had seen much
service in his vocation, and at the outbreak of the Great War had only
too gladly placed his knowledge at the disposition of the King.

He must have noticed the recent work of the two lads at the time they
bore in the wounded Australian, for, as Amos approached, the fatigued
surgeon actually smiled and held out his hand.

At another time Amos might have shuddered at seeing signs of blood
on the fingers extended in hospitable greeting; but by now he had
gone through so much that was terrible and nerve stretching that the
experience had hardened him to such things. Besides the boy was rapidly
becoming what might be called philosophical, as happens to all those
who are brought in close contact with varied scenes of suffering.

“I’m glad you’ve given me the chance to thank you, my brave lad, for
your assistance,” said the head surgeon as he grasped the hand of Amos.
“I do not know who you two boys are, for somehow you are different from
our English lads, but there’s little doubt your hearts are with us in
this terrible carnage.”

“We are both American boys,” said Amos hastily, his eyes sparkling with
pleasure at this friendly and hearty greeting, which was so different
from what a good many Britishers would have exhibited, for they seem
to repress their feelings until outsiders come to look upon them as
cold-blooded people, which is not the case at all.

“That pleases me again,” said the surgeon, “for my wife was of your
country, and I have spent many happy months visiting America. But
pardon my curiosity, please; what can have brought two lads of your age
over here in the midst of the fighting, and particularly on Gallipoli
Peninsula, where one would least expect to meet you?”

That gave the anxious Amos the opening he wanted, and so he immediately
started in to tell of his long search for his brother, and just why,
at that particular time above all others, it was of the greatest
importance that Frank should return home with him, even though he
meant to come back to his duty again.

“Tell me his name,” said the surgeon, “possibly I may happen to know of
him even if I have never met him personally.”

His surprise was great when the boy proudly let it be known that the
brother whom he sought had established a wonderful reputation for valor
among the Allies--indeed, that he even had a price set on his head by
the Germans, who had learned to fear him above all the dashing birdmen
who served in the ranks of the French and the British.

“Indeed, you astonish me,” remarked the kindly head surgeon; “it must
give you great satisfaction to hear on every side that this wonderful
brother of yours is accounted the best aviator we have. Far and near
I have heard his praises sung, and if any class of men can appreciate
true bravery surely soldiers may. I heard only yesterday that he
was working with us now on Gallipoli, but as yet I have not had the
pleasure of making his acquaintance. In a way that may be accounted
fortunate for him, since many come to me who would rather not.”

Amos was, of course, a bit disappointed. He had anticipated meeting
with better success than this.

“I thank you very much for what you have said, Doctor,” he remarked,
controlling his emotion. “We expect to make inquiries, and before a
great while I shall hope to run across Frank, who can hardly hide his
light under a bushel here, for he will be either with the fleet at some
island rendezvous, or else on shore;” and as the surgeon’s services
were required just then nothing more could be said.

Amos still lingered, not that he liked to see the gruesome sights, but
from some reason he himself could hardly have explained had he been
asked.

Just then two men who had an empty stretcher came in. Evidently they
had searched in vain for a last victim, and failing to find any meant
to give up the task.

One of them strode over to an army surgeon who, with shirt sleeves
rolled up, had been industriously at work, though just then business
seemed slack. Jack noticed that this person was a young fellow with
a face well tanned by the air and sun. He had a rough bandage around
his arm, which was stained by blood, and it was evident that while
wounded slightly himself he had insisted on making use of his undoubted
strength to carry some of the boys to the hospital.

The surgeon greeted him as though he looked on him as some sort of
hero; for he began to quickly undo the hastily placed bandage so as to
examine the cut made by a bayonet or flying shrapnel.

Amos uttered a little cry that made his chum turn and stare at him. He
found the other focussing his eyes on the darkened face of the young
man, while his hands were closed fiercely.

“Frank! oh! Frank!” almost shouted Amos.

At that the other whirled around and stared at the boy, who was now
advancing towards him with outstretched hands.

“Don’t you know me, Frank?” cried Amos hoarsely.
“It’s--your--own--brother--Amos!”

[Illustration: “Don’t you know me, Frank?” cried Amos.--_Page 308_]

At hearing that astounding assertion, the young aviator looked as
though he believed himself dreaming. To meet his younger brother here
in the midst of bloody scenes, Amos, the “kid” whom he only remembered
as a little fellow, was almost beyond his comprehension.

But in another moment Amos had reached his side, and putting out his
arms, Frank hugged the lad to his heart, regardless of the pain such a
movement must have caused him.

“What brought you over here, boy?” he demanded, as soon as he could
catch his breath.

“Oh! we have been searching for you everywhere,” replied Amos, beaming
upon the brother of whom he was so proud. “All the way across Belgium,
and most of the way along the lines of battle in France, always
arriving just too late to meet you. Get your arm looked after, Frank,
and then I’ve got a thousand things to tell you. I’m so happy I feel as
if I were flying through space, just as we saw you do when you threw
those bombs on the Turks yesterday.”

“What, were you there with the Australians through the fierce battle?”
demanded Frank, hardly able to believe his ears, for to his mind Amos
was still the same “kid” the latter had been when he left home some
years back, and he could not realize that the boy had grown to be so
tall and stout.

“Yes, and we helped carry in the wounded afterwards; but you shall
hear it all, only on condition that you let the surgeon attend to your
wound, which looks like a bad one, too.”

“The only tough thing about it is I need that arm every time I go up,
and it’s going to cripple me for some time, I’m afraid,” complained
Frank, bitterly.

“Then you must take a vacation, and go back home with me, if only for a
visit,” said Amos, in a thrilling tone. “Father is nearing his end, we
fear, Frank, and he is crazy to see you just once again before he dies.
You surely wouldn’t refuse him the last chance to ask you to forgive
him; for, Frank, what was lost has been found just lately, back of the
drawer in the desk where it lay all these years!”

Upon hearing how his name had been cleared, Frank seemed to draw in a
long breath. It evidently meant much to him to have that stern father
know he was innocent of the crime that had been laid at his door. He
put a hand to his head--the army surgeon was already busily engaged
with the other arm.

“I’d rather wait until I hear the whole story, Amos, before deciding,”
he said, presently. “Though I want to tell you right now I’m sorely
inclined to do what you are asking of me. With this wound I’d be of
little use here for some time; and it wouldn’t take more than a month
or so to run over and come back. Yes, I own up that I would never
forgive myself if father passed away, and I refused to give him a
chance to see me again after all these years. Most of the bitterness
has left my heart in the passage of time, and if I survived this war I
would probably have made the first advances toward patching up a peace
with father.”

This made Amos smile broadly. After all he had undergone, victory
seemed only the sweeter to the boy. He introduced Jack to his brother,
who, it seemed, remembered the cousin. Then, later on, the three sought
a secure nook where the story could be told.

Frank listened with amazement when he heard the many adventures that
had befallen the two brave American boys during their long continued
search for him. Many times did he stop the narrator to ask questions.
He even viewed the wonderful paper signed by K. of K. with due
reverence; for like most of the soldiers fighting for King George and
the cause of the Allies, he had come to believe Kitchener the mainstay
of the whole war, and the one whose tactics would eventually win out.

At last there was really nothing else to say, and Amos waited to hear
Frank’s final decision. The other thrust out his hand to his younger
brother.

“After the wonderful way you’ve followed me over the most of Europe,
Amos, my dear brother, it would be a crime for me to refuse your
request. Yes, I’ll start back home with you as soon as we can get
away. Perhaps they may show me some few favors in return for what I’ve
done, and the road will be made easier. But remember, I must come back
again when I’ve seen my father. There is yet work for me here, and my
heart is in it!”

Upon hearing these words, Amos, boy fashion, jumped up and threw his
hat into the air. From that moment, the future looked rosy. Little did
our heroes guess, when last on Gallipoli, that the daring enterprise
would be frustrated--long before this reaches the eye of the reader--by
the steady current which swiftly flowed from the Sea of Marmora toward
the Mediterranean. It was this current that enabled the shrewd German
engineers to float innumerable mines which wrecked or destroyed many a
battleship attempting to force the narrow passage.

Jack, Amos and Frank left for England, having been accorded a passage
on a returning collier, thanks to the influence of some of Frank’s
admirers. As has been said, no one then dreamed of failure; indeed,
the American aviator was entreated to hasten back to his field of duty
unless he wanted to arrive too late and find everything carried in a
glorious rush.

In this happy condition we will say good-bye to the American boys whose
fortunes we have followed through the battlefields of war-stricken
Europe. It may be our good fortune to meet them again in the pages of
some future volume; but for the present we must be patient and wait.

THE END.

       *       *       *       *       *

Transcriber’s Notes:

Illustrations have been moved to paragraph breaks near where they are
mentioned.

Punctuation has been made consistent.

Variations in spelling and hyphenation were retained as they appear in
the original publication, except that obvious typographical errors have
been corrected.

The one footnote has been moved to the end of its chapter and relabeled.

The following changes were made:

p. 38: combing changed to coaming (the coaming of)

p. 116: metal changed to mettle (of mettle they)

p. 220: phase changed to faze (doesn’t faze him)







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