On Land and Sea at the Dardanelles Part 32

He nodded again and went off.

Williams, a burly torpedo c.o.xswain, at once took charge of Ken. His big hands were as tender as a woman's as he stripped off the boy's soaking clothes and subst.i.tuted for them a fresh suit of warm lammies. Before putting them on, he gave Ken such a rubbing with a rough towel as sent the stagnant blood tingling through every vein.

'Thanks awfully,' said Ken gratefully. 'I say, how's Gill? He got knocked silly with the blast of the sh.e.l.l that sunk the "Swan." Is he hurt?'

'He ain't hit, anyway,' said Williams. 'He's swallowed a bit more salt water than suits his innards, but he'll pull round all right, never you fear.

'Here, drink this down,' he continued, handing Ken a thick mug full of some steaming mixture. Ken swallowed it obediently. It was thick Navy cocoa, laced with a dash of rum.

It sent a grateful warmth through every inch of Ken's body, but its immediate effect was to make him so drowsy that his eyes began to close.

'That's all right,' he heard Williams remark in a satisfied voice. 'Forty winks won't do you no manner of harm.' The last thing Ken remembered was being wrapped in a blanket. Then he dropped back on the mattress and almost before his head reached it was sound asleep.

He woke to the purr of engines and a warm thick atmosphere smelling strongly of oil and illuminated by white electric lamps. For the moment he could not imagine where he was nor what had happened. It was not until he rolled over and saw Roy lying stretched on another mattress beside him, and Gill a little beyond, that any sort of recollection came back to him.

He stretched himself. He was sore all over, but otherwise fit enough and very hungry. Then he sat up.

A burly figure came towards him, walking with that curiously light-footed tread which becomes second habit in a submarine. It was Williams, the c.o.xswain.

'Well, young fellow me lad,' he remarked genially, 'how goes it?'

'Top hole, thanks. A bit empty. That's all.'

'If that's your only trouble, we'll soon fix it. Can you walk?'

'You bet.'

'Then come along forrard, and we'll see what cooky can do for you.'

Cooky's efforts consisted in biscuit, b.u.t.ter, sardines, jam, and las.h.i.+ngs of hot strong tea, to all of which Ken did the fullest justice.

'And how d'ye like life under the ocean wave?' asked Williams, who was watching Ken's progress with the eye of a connoisseur.

'First time I ever tried it,' said Ken, glancing round the long, narrow interior which seemed merely a packing case for a maze of intricate machinery. 'What is she? What cla.s.s I mean?'

'She's G 2, sonny, and don't you forget it. The last word in submarine gadgets. Twenty knots on the surface, and twelve submerged. Carries eight o' the biggest and best torpedoes, any one o' which is warranted to knock the stuffing out o' the "Goeben" or any other o' Weeping w.i.l.l.y's super-skulkers.'

'Where are we now?' inquired Ken with interest.

'Couldn't say precisely. But somewheres about ten fathom below the s.h.i.+nin'

surface of the Dardanelles.'

Ken felt a queer thrill. There was something uncanny in the thought that they were spinning along, sixty feet below the sea-level, cut off from all the living world.

'Pa.s.s the word the commander wishes to see Carrington,' came a voice.

'Lootenant Strang wants you,' said Williams. 'Go right aft. Sentry'll show you. And go careful, mind you. Submarines ain't the sort o' shops for foot races.'

Ken went cautiously back past the amazing tangle of spinning, whirling machinery. Where the long interior narrowed to the stern hung a thick curtain. The sentry silently parted it, and Ken found himself in the officer's quarters of G2. They were as plain as the steerage on a liner.

Just two bunks and in the middle a table at which Lieutenant Strang sat, busily writing.

He glanced up as Ken entered, and, saluting, stood to attention. Ken noticed, with inward approval, the strength and intelligence in the clean-cut features of the commanding officer.

'Feeling better, Carrington?'

'Quite all right, sir, thank you.'

'Had breakfast?'

'Yes, sir.'

'I want to hear what you've been doing. Let's have the whole yarn.'

Ken told him. He put it as shortly as he could, but gave his story clearly and well. Lieutenant Strang listened with the deepest attention.

''Pon my word, you and your chum have been going it some!' he remarked when Ken at last finished. 'So you're a son of Captain Carrington? How is it you did not take a commission?'

'I didn't think I had any right to it, sir,' Ken answered simply. 'It seemed to me it was the sort of thing one ought to win.'

'Just so. I dare say you are right. I hope you'll get one anyhow. But see here, I can't put you ash.o.r.e. We're going north, not south.'

'Going up through the Straits, sir?' exclaimed Ken. 'We've gone. We're opposite Bulair this minute, so far as I can judge.'

CHAPTER XV

KEN MEETS AN OLD FRIEND

'Then--then you're bound for Constantinople?' said Ken eagerly.

Strang laughed.

'Not necessarily. No, I am not particularly anxious to charge into the Golden Horn. It's a deal of risk, and not much to be got out of it. Our mission is to cruise in the Marmora and look out for Turkish transports and store s.h.i.+ps.'

'Why, what's the matter?' he broke off, noticing how Ken's face had fallen.

'I beg your pardon, sir. It was my father I was thinking of. You see he is in Constantinople--at least, so that scoundrel Henkel told me. I thought I might have a chance of getting ash.o.r.e and helping him.'

'My good fellow, you must be crazy. Apart from the fact that I should have the greatest difficulty in putting you ash.o.r.e, you would, of course, at once be arrested and shot as a spy.'

'I don't think so, sir. You see I know the place well, and have friends there. And I talk the language as well as I do English. I know some Arabic, too.'

'The deuce you do!' said the commander, staring at him keenly. 'Then it's possible that you may be uncommonly useful to me during our present trip.

No, I shall tell you no more just now. And pray put out of your head any such mad idea as landing at Constantinople.'

'Very well, sir,' Ken answered quietly. And saluting again, he left the cabin.