A bullet splaying against the stonework within a couple of feet of his face reminded the midshipman that he was exposed to the enemy's fire.

Grasping the wounded man by the arms, he dragged him into temporary shelter.

Without a word the second sailor took the lead-line and hurried into the open. Swinging the sinker until it obtained considerable velocity, he released the leaden weight. Flying upwards at a tangent, it sped fairly over the parapet of the tower, falling to the ground on the other side. Then, deftly securing the end of the line to an iron ring in the masonry, the dauntless seaman made his way to the farther face of the building and, gripping the thin yet strong rope, began to swarm up.

It was a hazardous performance. At any moment the line might part, and bullets were mushrooming against the stonework all around the brave climber. Yet, unscathed, he gained the summit of the tower and drew himself over the low parapet.

"No go, sir!" he shouted. "There's a blessed hatchway, but it's locked."

"If I send my revolver up to you, can you blow it off its hinges?"

enquired Farnworth anxiously.

"Steady a bit, sir!" replied the man. "Stand clear a moment. All clear, sir?"

"All clear," repeated the midshipman, wondering what the seaman was about to do, yet feeling sure that the reliant fellow had hit upon a feasible plan.

The man had noticed the flagstaff on which during the day the Ottoman flag had been flying. At sunset the Crescent flag had been struck, but instead of untoggling it from the halyards the indolent Turk to whom the duty was entrusted had merely rolled the bunting and secured it to the pole by a bight of the cords.

The sailor deftly detached the flag from the halyards, then, unshipping the twenty-foot pole from its sockets, lowered it to the ground. Half a minute later, with the captured Ottoman ensign rolled round his waist, he rejoined the midshipman.

"Here we are, sir!" he exclaimed. "All we've to do is to push one end of this bloomin' pole up the trap-door and I'll soon swarm up."

Not without considerable difficulty, the midshipman and the seaman succeeded in getting the stout "stick" into the lowermost room of the tower. When set on end it projected from beyond the opening in the vaulted roof.

"I won't be long, sir," declared the man confidently, as he moistened his h.o.r.n.y palms prior to climbing the pole. "If you'd let me have your pistol, sir, as you suggested----"

Just then another seaman burst into the room.

"Mr. Crosthwaite's compliments, sir," he exclaimed, saluting the midshipman, "and he would like to know if you've liberated the prisoners yet. We've got a hard job to keep the enemy back. They've made two attempts to rush us."

"Ask him to give me five minutes more," replied Farnworth.

By this time the climber had disappeared through the opening. The deafening report of the midshipman's revolver told that its borrower had blown off the lock of one of the doors, and before the second shot rang out five of the prisoners were sliding down the sole means of communication with the ground.

One of them, possessing himself of the wounded man's rifle and ammunition, dashed out to a.s.sist in holding back the Turkish troops.

The others, under the midshipman's orders, hastened to the pier-head to obtain the rifles of the two boat-keepers, for every available armed man was needed to fight a rear-guard action.

"All present?" demanded Farnworth, as the last of the rescued crew of the _Hammerer's_ whaler slid to the ground, followed by the indomitable bluejacket who had played such an important part in the rescue.

"All correct, sir," replied c.o.xswain Webb. "Leastwise, what's left of us."

"Then fall in," ordered the midshipman. "c.o.xswain, march these men to the pier-head. You'll find two boats there. Embark, and await further instructions."

He could tell the position of Crosthwaite's party by the flashes of their rifles as they replied to the heavy yet almost ineffectual fire of superior numbers. But before he could cover the intervening stretch of rising ground the whole scene was suddenly flooded with brilliant light.

A Turkish patrol-boat had arrived to investigate the cause of the firing. The retreat of the slender British force was cut off.

CHAPTER XIX

The Sub to the Rescue

While Midshipman Farnworth was directing his energies toward the release of his boat's crew, Sub-lieutenant Crosthwaite and his small party were hotly engaged with the Turkish troops.

At the first onset, by dint of rapid magazine-firing, d.i.c.k's men succeeded in "bluffing" their foes into the belief that they were attacked by a strong landing-force. So much so that had the Sub given orders to fix bayonets and charge, the enemy would have bolted.

Unfortunately his instructions from Lieutenant-Commander Huxtable prevented him from so doing. His orders were to hold the sh.o.r.e until the prisoners were released, and then to retire to the boats. On no account was he to penetrate the enemy's defences, lest, in the event of a strong counter-attack, his retreat would be imperilled and even cut off.

It was soon apparent that, under the prodigality of magazine-firing, the men's supply of ammunition would not hold out much longer; but, by the diminution of the rate of fire, the Turks were not slow to realize that they had been deceived by the numbers of their attackers.

Taking advantage of every bit of natural and artificial cover, the bluejackets held grimly to their position, firing deliberately at the spurts of flame that denoted the presence of the Ottoman riflemen, whose numbers were constantly being augmented by other troops from different parts of the island.

Gradually the enemy began to work round to the British right, till the thin line of bluejackets was in danger of being enfiladed. Then, with a succession of fierce yells, the Turks sprang to their feet and with fixed bayonets bore down upon the handful of determined seamen.

A rapid magazine fire swept aside the threatened danger before any of the foemen came within reach of the British bayonets, but at the cost of two men wounded and a severe drain upon the remaining ammunition.

d.i.c.k looked grave when he heard Farnworth's report. It was quite evident that the midshipman's task could not be carried out with the ease that he had expected. But having once set his hand to the plough, the Sub realized that there was to be no turning back until the work in hand accomplished. He must hold the position at all costs until the rescued seamen were safely in the boats.

Presently a man slithered past him in the darkness, and, flinging himself p.r.o.ne, began to blaze away at the flashes of light a hundred yards or so on his front. d.i.c.k recognized him as the bowman of the _Hammerer's_ whaler. Then he knew that Farnworth's mission was approaching completion.

Again the Turks charged, this time well on the right flank; and before the British line could be re-formed, a score of helmeted Moslems were pouring over the low stone wall protected that portion of the seamen's position. Bayonet crossed bayonet, rifle b.u.t.ts swung in the air. The fierce shouts of the Turks were met with dogged silence, as the stalwart bluejackets lunged and fired at their fanatical foes.

d.i.c.k's revolver turned the scale. The Turks fled, leaving a dozen of their number dead on the field, and several others more or less seriously injured.

During the brief respite that followed d.i.c.k looked anxiously in the direction of the tower. He could just discern the dark forms of the liberated bluejackets as, under the charge of the c.o.xswain of the whaler, they made for the boats.

Even as he looked a search-light flashed from the hitherto black expanse of sea. Irresolutely playing upon the sh.o.r.e for a few moments, it settled upon the extended line of bluejackets and upon the bullet-splintered barracks whence came the main Turkish fire.

"Lie down, men!" ordered d.i.c.k, for with the blaze of light several of the men knelt up and looked in the direction of the disagreeable interruption.

His warning came just in time, for a three-pounder sh.e.l.l from the hostile craft, and, screeching shrilly over the heads of the small British force, exploded with a terrific crash in the Turkish barracks.

Evidently there was a quant.i.ty of highly-inflammable oil stored within the building, for with extreme violence lurid flames shot skywards, their brilliancy outcla.s.sing the glare of the search-light.

The surviving soldiers ran for dear life, and for the time being all opposition from that quarter was at an end. But a peril of even greater magnitude now threatened the force under Crosthwaite's command.

Their retreat was cut off.

With the peak of his cap just showing above a low mound of earth, d.i.c.k directed his attention seawards. So dazzling were the rays of the search-light that he could discern nothing in the vicinity of the source of the beam. Whether the Turkish vessel was a destroyer or only an armed patrol-boat he could not decide. Nor could he detect any signs of the British submarine. Doubtless Huxtable, at the first warning of the enemy's approach, had dived. Without torpedoes at his disposal, it seemed as if he were helpless in the matter. All he could do was to save his command by resting on the bottom, leaving Crosthwaite and his men to their fate.

Another and yet another sh.e.l.l came from the Turkish craft, each missile bursting harmlessly beyond the sheltered British seamen. It seemed fairly conclusive that the Ottoman craft mounted only one quick-firer, and that, ignorant of the true position of affairs, she was directing the fire against the buildings lately held by the Turkish troops.

Meanwhile the rescued prisoners, who, before the first sh.e.l.l had been fired, had taken their places in the caique, acted with admirable presence of mind. Instead of bolting precipitately along the pier for the more substantial cover that they knew was obtainable ash.o.r.e, they lay down quietly on the bottom of the boat.

"A bit of a tight corner, sir," exclaimed a voice which d.i.c.k recognized as Farnworth's. The midshipman, taking advantage of a sweep of the search-light, had cautiously made his way from the tower to the place where d.i.c.k was taking cover.

"We've been in a worse one," replied the Sub coolly. "Our men are as steady as anything. If we can escape the sh.e.l.ling--and they haven't spotted us yet, or else they are rotten shots--we can sit tight. If that craft--I fancy she's only a patrol-boat--puts in alongside the pier to see what damage she's done, we'll do our best to rush her.

Dash it all! Who says we are not having a good fling for our money?"

He spoke cheerfully, but at the same time he thoroughly realized the seriousness of the situation. Even should the patrol-boat tie up alongside the pier, which was doubtful, and he succeeded by a coup de main in capturing her, the triumph would be of short duration. Bottled up in the limited expanse of the Sea of Marmora, with the impa.s.sable Dardanelles at one end and the equally well-defended Bosphorus at the other, escape in anything except a submarine craft was impossible.