"What would happen if, during that half-hour, a couple of Turkish destroyers put in an appearance?" asked Huxtable. "I am inclined to let you tackle the job; but one must weigh the matter carefully. I don't want to lose half a dozen hands, nor do I want to leave Farnworth and you marooned on Prince's Island. That's what it would mean, you know."

d.i.c.k did not reply. His mind was set upon the sight of that forlorn party of bluejackets being haled into captivity. Perhaps they might be--but no, the possibility was too remote.

"We'll do what we can," declared Huxtable, who rapidly warming to the plan. "At any rate, it will be occupying our time. Let's go below and have a look at the chart. Mr. Devereux," he called out, "pa.s.s the word for all hands to bathe, and then a quarter of an hour's 'stand easy'

for the men to smoke."

Eagerly the crew took advantage of the permission, and the immediate vicinity of the submarine soon dotted with the heads of the swimmers as they revelled in the clear waters of the Sea of Marmora. Bedding and blankets were also brought on deck to air while the diminutive "ship's company" were enjoying their pipes and cigarettes.

At two bells in the second dog-watch the submarine cleared for running on the surface. Devereux was in charge, the Lieutenant-Commander having taken the opportunity of s.n.a.t.c.hing a few hours' sleep. At eleven knots she steamed leisurely towards the yet invisible island, for as the sun sank low in the west a slight mist obscured the horizon.

Directly land was sighted the craft was submerged, until only the top of the periscope was visible. Speed was reduced to five knots, to minimize as much as possible her tell-tale wake and the feather of spray as the periscope cleaved the water.

An hour of daylight yet remained as the "E--" arrived within two hundred yards of the ramshackle pier, taking up a position so that the slanting rays of the sun tended to render the slender, pole-like periscope invisible against the background of deep crimson sky and sea.

Beyond the desultory movements of a couple of Turkish sentries there was little sign of activity. Above the tower the Crescent flag of the Ottoman Empire drooped idly in the still air. From the row of huts that served as a barracks for the troops came the sound of stringed instruments, mingled with the melodious voices of the men.

At sunset every man of the garrison, to the number of twenty-two, appeared carrying his praying-carpet. From a minaret arose the voice of the _muezzin_ calling the Faithful to prayer, and with one accord the soldiers prostrated themselves upon the ground with their faces turned in the direction of the Mohammedan holy city of Mecca.

Darkness fell upon the scene. Beyond the shouts of the sentries at regular intervals no sound came from the island. Evidently it was not considered to be a place of strategic importance, for no search-lights were flashed from the sh.o.r.e; but away to the nor'-west and north the sheen of the distant search-lights of Constantinople and Scutari was plainly visible through the faint haze.

Volunteers had already been invited from the submarine. Every man had signified his willingness to engage upon the undertaking, and d.i.c.k had considerable difficulty in picking his force, so acute was the disappointment of those he had to reject.

At midnight the submarine was awash, and her frail canvas boat was unfolded and launched. At the most it would hold but five.

Giving a final glance to seaward, Huxtable gripped d.i.c.k's hand.

Silently two seamen entered the frail boat and waited till the Sub had taken his place. Then, with greased rowlocks and m.u.f.fled oars, the Berthon made cautiously towards the pier.

Straining eyes and ears, d.i.c.k grasped the yoke-lines. Steadily the intervening distance decreased, yet no stern challenge came from the shadowy sh.o.r.e. Unseen and unheard, the canvas boat ran alongside the pier, at the head of which was moored a large caique or Turkish craft peculiar to the Bosphorus and its adjacent waters. At a pinch it would carry twenty or twenty-five people, especially as the sea was calm.

It was the work of a moment to cast off the stout cord that was made fast to the stern to prevent the boat from swaying in upon the piles.

Then, as cautiously as they had approached, the crew of the Berthon rowed back to the submarine, towing the captured craft astern.

It was a task of considerable difficulty to locate "E--". In the intense darkness--for not the faintest glimpse of a light could be shown--her position was completely invisible; and it was not until he was within twenty yards of the submarine that d.i.c.k detected the periscope and arched girder showing faintly against the subdued glare of the distant search-lights.

"All right?" enquired Huxtable anxiously.

"Yes, sir," replied Crosthwaite in a whisper.

At a sign from the Lieutenant-Commander the rest of the landing-party took their places in the caique. Two of the seamen manned the long, weighted oars, each of which worked on a single thole-pin; then in utter silence the two boats headed towards the sh.o.r.e.

Every man carried a rifle and bayonet and sixty rounds of ammunition.

The safety catches of the rifles were set, to guard against an accidental discharge of any of the weapons; while orders had been given not to fix bayonets, lest the steel, shining dully in the faint starlight, should betray the presence of the British seamen to the Turkish sentries.

Unchallenged, the boats rubbed alongside the pier. d.i.c.k stealthily ascended the perpendicular ladder till his head showed above the planking of the gangway. He could hear the m.u.f.fled tread of the sentry pacing his beat in front of the tower. He could not hope to escape detection much longer; but provided a couple of men were at his back, he felt certain that they would be sufficient to commence the attack until the rest of the boarding-party could fall in and double for their objective.

One by one the seamen ascended, until only one man was left in each boat to act as boat-keeper. Crouching and holding their rifles at the trail, the bluejackets followed Crosthwaite and the midshipman.

Half-way along the pier they crept; then came the strident hail of the Ottoman sentry.

Without a pause d.i.c.k advanced. The challenge was repeated, then a bullet whizzed high above the heads of the landing-party.

"Double!" shouted the Sub.

The planks trembled under the rush of many feet as the men raced down the pier. The sentry was running for dear life, yelling at the top of his voice, to the accompaniment of a rousing British cheer which was quickly taken up by the prisoners within the tower.

Releasing the safety catches of their rifles, all but two of the submarine's men threw themselves on the ground in antic.i.p.ation of an attack from the troops in the barracks. The two, headed by Farnworth, made their way to the door of the tower.

"Stand clear, there!" said the midshipman in a loud voice, as a warning to any of the prisoners who might be on the other side of the door; then holding the muzzle of his revolver a few inches from the lock, he fired twice in quick succession.

The stout oaken door and its antiquated iron lock were not proof against the heavy Webley bullets, and with a crash the woodwork gave way. Farnworth pushed aside the remains of the door and entered.

Within was a square room, absolutely deserted.

"Where are you, men?" he shouted.

"Up here, sir," replied someone; then another voice exclaimed: "Lumme, Bill! if 'tain't Mister Farnworth."

The midshipman had been sent to rescue his own boat's party--the survivors of the ill-starred whaler that had been cast ash.o.r.e in Yenikeui Bay.

Farnworth looked up. He imagined that he saw an opening in the vaulted ceiling, but there were no signs of a ladder.

"Can't you men get down?" he asked.

"We're locked in," was the lugubrious response. "They planks a ladder up here in daytime, but we don't know what they does with it at night."

One of the two men of the submarine's crew bent down, while the second clambered on his shoulders. Even then, when both stood erect, the uppermost could not reach the side of the aperture.

By this time the crackle of musketry told the midshipman that the rest of his comrades were engaged with the scanty Turkish garrison. It was not Crosthwaite's intention to take the offensive, having once gained possession of the tower. All he meant to do was to hold the Turks in check until the prisoners were liberated, and then to return to the boats.

Farnworth was for the moment at a loss how to act. Without a ladder it seemed impossible to reach the opening in the vaulted roof. Time was of extreme importance, for the noise of the musketry might bring hostile patrol-boats upon the scene. It was even likely that the island was in telegraphic communication with Scutari and Constantinople, in which case a swift destroyer might put in an appearance before the landing-party returned to the submarine.

"Shall I fetch the hand lead-line, sir?" asked one of the seamen who had accompanied him. "There's one in the boat. We can sling it right over the tower."

"And then?" asked the midshipman.

"One of us'll swarm up. The line will hold, I'll allow."

"Carry on!" said Farnworth.

The man took to his heels and ran towards the pier. A long-drawn couple of minutes ensued, but he did not return. The firing seemed to increase. Evidently the numbers of the Turkish garrison were considerably in excess of what the landing-party had estimated.

Instead of bolting precipitately, the soldiers were putting up a stiff fight.

The midshipman went to the door. On the threshold he nearly stumbled over the body of the messenger.

"Here's the lead-line, sir," announced the seaman faintly. "They've plugged me right enough."

"Where?" asked Farnworth anxiously.

"Through both thighs, sir," was the reply. "There isn't much pain, but I had to crawl the last twenty yards. Don't worry about me, sir."