CHAPTER III
The Demolition Party
A double crash announced that the leading battleship of the Britishsquadron had opened fire with her foremost 12-inch guns. In twominutes the action had become general, the whole of the British andFrench pre-Dreadnoughts engaging with their principal armament, for asyet the range was too great for the 6-inch guns and smaller weapons tobe trained upon the distant defences.
Ahead, the mine-sweepers, "straddled" by the hail of projectiles fromSedd-ul-Bahr and Kum Kale, as well as from mobile batteries cunninglyconcealed in difficult ground, proceeded with slow and grimdetermination. All across them the sea was churned by the ricochettingshells, while ever and anon a terrific waterspout accompanied by a dullroar showed that they were making good work in clearing away thehostile mines.
The Turks, in spite of the huge 12-inch projectiles that hailedincessantly upon the forts, stood to their guns with fanatical bravery.Tons of brickwork and masonry would be hurled high in the air, aftertaking with them the mangled remains of the Ottoman gunners andup-ending the Turkish weapon as easily as if it were a mere drain-pipe.Yet a few minutes later the defenders would bring up a field-piece andblaze away across the ruins at the nearest of the British mine-sweepers.
"Port 6-inch battery to fire," came the order.
Almost simultaneously the six secondary armament guns added their quotaof death and destruction to the slower crash of the heavier weapons inthe barbettes.
The _Hammerer_ and her consorts were rapidly closing the shore, takingadvantage of the already seriously damaged forts.
It was by no means a one-sided engagement. Shells from the Turkishdefences were ricochetting all around the British warships or expendingthemselves harmlessly against the armoured plating. Other projectilestore through the unprotected sides and upper works. Well it was thatorders had been given out not to man the 12-pounder quick-firers on theupper deck. Had these weapons been used the casualties here must havebeen very heavy, for the light battery resembled a scrap-iron store.
Suddenly the men serving the gun in the casemate stopped their rapidyet deliberate work. A hostile shell had penetrated the 6-inch sidearmour almost under the casemate and had burst close to the lower partof the foremast. The shock well-nigh capsized the Sub, and almostcaused the man at the ammunition hoist to drop the hundred-pound shellthat he was in the act of transferring to the breech of the weapon.Suffocating fumes eddied through the ammunition hoist into the confinedspace. In the dim light men were gasping for breath, expecting everymoment to find the magazine beneath their feet blown up.
"Hoist out of action, sir," reported one of the men, as he threw thecontents of a bucket of water down the choked tube. Althougheverything of a supposedly inflammable nature had been got rid of, theheat generated by the explosion had been sufficient to start a fire,and the seat of the conflagration was between the armoured floor of thecasemate and the magazine below the water-line.
"That's done it," ejaculated Dick dejectedly. It was not on account ofthe danger, for the men remained calmly within the casemate, trustingto the fire-party to extinguish the flames that were perilously closeto the magazine. He was deploring the fact that the jamming of theammunition hoist had deprived his gun of its supply of shells. Theweapon was as much out of action as if the entire gun's crew had beenannihilated. It seemed so humiliating to be inactive.
"Number one 6-inch, why are you not firing?" inquired an officer in theconning-tower through one of the voice tubes. There was a tinge ofanxiety in his voice. He had noticed the sudden cessation of fire fromthat particular weapon, and it looked ominous.
"Ammunition hoist damaged, sir," replied the Sub.
"Any casualties?"
"No, sir."
"Then stand by."
Dick heard the whistle replaced in the tube as the officer completedhis enquiries. Then hard-a-port the _Hammerer_ described a semicircle,in order to bring her as yet unengaged starboard battery into action.
By this time the Turkish reply was but a feeble one. Pounded by thedirect fire from the pre-Dreadnoughts; shattered by the long-rangehigh-angle fire of the _Queen Elizabeth_ and the _Invincible_, theforts were little better than mounds of rubbish.
Already the British warships had penetrated more than two miles up theformidable Straits, the mine-sweepers performing their difficult taskwith the utmost coolness and bravery. Night was coming on. All thatcould be done was to make sure of the complete reduction of thesouthernmost forts, and continue the sweeping operations as a preludeto a farther advance on the morrow.
Two British seaplanes, hovering at a height of nearly a thousand feetabove the hostile positions, reported by wireless that the Turks wereabandoning their shattered forts. The opportunity had arrived toconsummate the day's work. A signal was made from the flagship to landarmed parties. Joyfully the order was received, for the British seamanis not content with doing a lot of damage from afar; he must needs seefor himself the result of his efforts.
Still maintaining a steady fire with their secondary batteries, theships proceeded to hoist out their boats. Into these dropped seamenand marines, armed with rifles and bayonets, Maxims were passed intothe boats, and charges of gun-cotton carefully stowed away for futureuse in completing the destruction of the Turkish guns.
"At this rate we'll be through in less than a week," remarkedMidshipman Sefton to Dick, as they sat in the stern-sheets of a launchpacked with armed seamen. The launch was in tow of a steam pinnace,while astern of her were two more boats, equally crowded.
"Seems like it," answered Crosthwaite, as he looked towards the rapidlynearing shore--a wild, precipitous line of rocks, surmounted by a pileof masonry that a few hours before was one of the strongest points ofdefence of the Dardanelles. "The Commander told me that themine-sweepers ought to clear away all the mines as far as the Narrowswithin the next twenty-four hours. It's in the Narrows we're going tohave a tough job."
Without a shot being fired--for the _moral_ of the Turks seemedcrushed--the boats grounded on the shore, and rapidly but in perfectorder the demolition party landed, formed up, and began the difficultclimb to the already sorely battered fort.
"What are you doing here, Sefton?" asked the Sub, observing that themidshipman was following him. "Your place is in your boat, you know."
"I asked the Commander's permission," replied Sefton. "It's not everyday that I get a chance of examining a demolished position."
If the truth be told, Sefton was somewhat disappointed. He expected a"bit of a scrap" and a chance to use the heavy Service revolver that hewore in a large, buff-leather holster. At present it was of no use; itwas an encumbrance.
"Steady, men," cautioned Crosthwaite, as those of the section under hisorders were pressing forward somewhat recklessly. "There may be anambush."
The warning was justifiable, for the strange silence which brooded overthe hillside was somewhat ominous. The _Hammerer's_ men had landed inthree parties, two being each under the command of a lieutenant, whileCrosthwaite had the third. Between these bodies of men there a keenrivalry as to who should first reach the demolished fort; and as eachwas advancing by a separate route and was almost entirely hidden fromthe others, the Sub's party had no means of judging the pace of theirfriendly competitors.
"'Ware barbed wire."
The men brought up suddenly. They were approaching the nearmost limitof the shell-torn ground. Deep cavities had been made in the rockysoil by the explosions of the heavy projectiles, yet the outer line ofbarbed wire was almost intact. The posts supporting the obstructionhad been blown to atoms, but the wires were twisted and fused into along, single, and almost inflexible coil impervious to the attacks ofthe seamen provided with wire-cutters.
A ripping sound, followed by a yell, announced the failure of a burlybluejacket to wriggle under the obstruction. Pinned down by the barbedwire, he was unable to move until his comrades, with a roar of laughterat his hapless plight, succeeded in extricating him.
/> "We'll prise it up, sir," exclaimed a petty officer. "The men can thenwriggle underneath."
"Won't do," objected the Sub firmly. "It will have to be removed."
Two men advanced with slabs of gun-cotton, but again Dick demurred.
"No explosives to be used in the demolition of obstructions," heordered. "They must be kept for the enemy's guns. We don't want toalarm the rest of the landing-party. Bend a rope there, and half adozen of you clap on for all you're worth."
A rope was speedily forthcoming. The stalwart bluejackets, diggingtheir heels into the sloping ground, tugged heroically. The stout wiresagged, quivered, and resisted their efforts.
The Sub realized that the obstruction must be removed. Although it waspossible to crawl underneath, as the petty officer had suggested, itwould never do to leave a trap like that between the fort and the shore.In the event of an ambuscade and a retirement to the boats, delay innegotiating the entanglements might spell disaster.
Another half a dozen men assisted their comrades. Still the wire, nowat a terrific tension, showed no signs of being wrenched from its hold.
"All together--heave!"
With a burly "Heave-ho" the dozen bluejackets made a fresh effort.Balked, they gave a tremendous jerk. Something had to go, but it wasnot the wire. The rope parted with a crack, and twelve seamen werestruggling in a confused heap on the steep hillside, while littleSefton, caught by the human avalanche, found himself head over heels ina particularly aggressive thorn-bush.
"Work round to the right there, and see what the infernal wire is madefast to!" ordered the Sub impatiently. "Look alive there, or theothers will be at the top before us."
Four or five men hastened to carry out his commands. The work was of adifficult nature, for on either side of the rugged path by which theparty had ascended thus far the ground was precipitous and thicklydotted with bushes.
Figuratively hanging on by their eyebrows the seamen worked along,following the course of the aggressive wire, till they were lost tosight beyond a fantastically shaped boulder.
Suddenly one of the men reappeared.
"Here's a blessed 12-pounder, sir," he announced. "What are we to dowith it?"
Followed by Midshipman Sefton, who in the excitement caused by thislatest discovery had lost all interest in the painful operation ofextracting thorns from various remote portions of his anatomy,Crosthwaite hastened to the spot with as much haste as the nature ofthe ground would permit. The rest of the men, with the exception ofthose detailed to carry the explosives, also scrambled over theintervening ground.
A ghastly sight met their gaze. Beyond the boulder, and screened fromseaward by a partly-burnt cluster of brushwood, was a field-piece. Onewheel of the carriage had been smashed. The other was held only by afew spokes, while the muzzle of the weapon was buried deep in theground. Coiled round the chase and jammed between the trunnion and thecarriage was the end of the barbed wire. The gun was splattered withthe yellow deposit from the explosion of a British lyddite shell, whileall around lay the mangled bodies of the Turkish artillerymen. Fiveyards to the rear of the damaged weapon were the scanty remains of alimber. The same shell that had wrought the destruction of the gun andthe men who served it, had completely exploded the ammunition.
"Smash the breech mechanism!" ordered Dick.
Two of the armourer's crew sprang to the gun for the purpose ofbreaking the interrupted screw-thread that locks the breech-block inthe gun. Their efforts were in vain, for the explosion of the shellhad rendered the breech-block incapable of being moved.
A fresh rope was speedily forthcoming. Its bight was placed under theheel of the 12-pounder, and by the united efforts of the seamen theheavy weapon was up-ended and toppled over the slope. Crashing throughthe brushwood, it rolled and bounded for quite a hundred feet, thenwith a resounding splash disappeared underneath the waters of theDardanelles. The remains of the carriage were then hurled over, but,held up by the barbed wire that had caused so much fruitless effort,the mass of shattered steel effected a twofold purpose in its fall. Itswept the cliff path clear of brushwood and brought the barbed wireinto a position that it no longer formed an obstruction.
"This way up, men!" exclaimed Dick, pointing to a fairly broad and easypath in the rear of the gun emplacement. The Turks had conducted theirdefence with considerable cunning, for midway between the fort and theshore they had, by great exertion and ingenuity, placed severalfield-guns in well-sheltered spots, hoping that while the fire of theAllies was directed upon the visible batteries, their light piecescould with comparative impunity deliver a galling fire upon themine-sweepers and the covering torpedo-boat destroyers. Unfortunatelyfor the enemy the far-reaching effect of the heavy shells had resultedin the silencing of the concealed weapons, the men serving them beingfor the most part slain at their posts. A few had attempted to escape,but before they got beyond the danger zone they too were wiped out bythe death-dealing lyddite.
The path Dick had indicated was the one by which the field-pieces hadbeen lowered from the higher ground. It was obstructed in severalplaces by craters torn by the explosion of the British shells, butthese afforded no difficulty to the bluejackets.
Wellnigh breathless with their exertions, they reached the fort only tofind, to their chagrin, that they had been forestalled by theirfriendly rivals, for the British flag floated proudly on the capturedposition.
So devastating had been the fire from the ships that the fort waslittle better than a shattered heap of brickwork and masonry.Armour-plated shields had been rent like paper, guns of immense sizebeen dismounted and hurled aside like straws. Bodies of the devotedOttoman garrison lay in heaps. Everything was smothered with ayellowish hue from the deadly lyddite and melanite. Yet several of thehuge 80-ton guns were seemingly serviceable. These had to be renderedtotally useless by means of slabs of gun-cotton placed well within themuzzle and fired electrically.
Sub-lieutenant Crosthwaite was studiously engaged in making a roughplan of the fort when Sefton, his soot-grimed face red with excitement,approached him.
"I believe I've found a magazine or something, sir," he exclaimed."It's a funny sort of shop--like a tunnel. There are half a dozenTurks there----"
"Eh?" ejaculated Dick incredulously.
"Dead as door-nails," Sefton hastened to explain. "They look as ifthey had been suffocated. But the air's pure enough down there now."
Placing his notebook in his pocket, the Sub walked with Sefton acrossthe littered open space in the centre of the fort till they came to asalient angle that faced the northern or landward side. Here therubble rose to a height of about twenty feet. In places the wall,composed of armour-plate and concrete, had been riven from top tobottom, huge slabs of masonry being held up only by mutual support. Onthe top of the debris were half a dozen bluejackets, taking advantageof the daylight that still remained in flag-wagging a message to one ofthe destroyers.
"Here's the show," announced Sefton, pointing to a narrow passagebetween two immense artificial boulders.
At one time the opening had been much wider, and had been provided withstone steps, but the irresistible shock had contracted the passage, andhad buried most of the steps under a heap of rubble.
"We want a lantern for the job," observed Dick. "How did you manage tosee? You ought not to have gone on an exploring expedition withoutsomeone accompanying you."
"I've brought my electric torch," said the midshipman, studiouslyignoring the latter portion of the Sub's remarks.
Unnoticed by the signalling party, the two young officers descended.For twenty yards they had to exercise considerable effort in order tonegotiate the bulging sides, but beyond this the passage opened to awidth of nearly six feet.
"Mind where you tread," cautioned Sefton, flashing his lamp on theground. "They are not dangerous, but it isn't pleasant."
Either lying on the stone floor or propped up in a sitting positionagainst the wall were the bodies of several Turkish infantrymen.
Mostof them were tunicless, while half a dozen 100-pounder shells lying onthe ground showed that these men were engaged in bringing ammunitionfrom the magazine when death in the form of lyddite fumes overtookthem. There were no visible marks of wounds, so it was fairly safe toconclude that no shell had burst within the tunnel. Further, it showedthat somewhere underneath the ruined fort was a still intact store ofprojectiles which would have to be rendered useless to the Turks beforethe demolition party returned to their ship.
"Didn't those fellows give you a turn?" enquired Dick.
"A bit at first," admitted the midshipman. "Then when I realized thatif they had meant mischief they would have plugged me long before I sawthem, I began to think something was wrong with them--and there was."
For nearly a hundred feet the passage zigzagged. With the exception ofthe dip near the main entrance the floor was almost level. Atintervals were niches covered with steel slabs. The place had beenelectrically lighted, but owing to the destruction of the power-housethe lamps were extinguished. Sefton's surmise was correct. It was amagazine, for the peculiar pattern of the electric bulbs in theirdouble glass coverings told Dick the reason for the precaution.
"This is as far as I have been," announced Sefton, pointing to a heavycanvas screen.
"Then we had better both go carefully," added Dick, drawing hisrevolver, an example that the midshipman eagerly hastened to follow."Don't go letting rip, mind, without you want to blow the whole crowdof us to pieces. Use your revolver as a moral persuader if thereshould be any of the enemy skulking here."
Telling the midshipman to keep close to the wall, and to hold the torchat arm's-length with the rays directed into the unexplored part of thetunnel, Dick pulled aside the curtain, half-expecting to find himselfconfronted by a dozen more or less intimidated ammunition-bearers.
The place was deserted.
"We'll carry on," said the Sub. "By Jove, what a big show! Absolutelyshell-proof, I should imagine."
"I can only just hear the row outside," added the midshipman, as themuffled reports of the guncotton explosions showed that the demolitionparty were doing their work thoroughly.
The magazine was a vault hewn out of the solid rock. It had evidentlybeen in existence for some years, certainly before the modernizing ofthe fortifications. The ammunition stowed here consisted of shells forthe smaller quick-firers, as the absence of tram-lines for conveyingthe projectiles that were too heavy to man-handle proved.
"Krupp ammunition," reported Sefton, flashing his torch upon the baseof one of the brass cylinders. "My word, when our fellows bust thatlot up, won't the Turks feel a bit sick!"
"We'll get the men to bring the firing-charges as soon as possible,"said Dick. "If we had known of this before, it would have saved no endof work. There would have been no need to have destroyed every gunsingly."
"Can't say I envy the fellow who has to fire the stuff," added Sefton."Hello, what's that?"
The noise of the detonating charges had ceased. Instead came theunmistakable crackle of rifle-firing.
"Look alive!" ordered the Sub. "Our fellows are being attacked."
Brushing aside the canvas screen the two officers made their way alongthe tunnel as swiftly as the dancing beams of the midshipman's torchpermitted.
Before they reached the rise leading to the open air there was aterrific concussion. A waft of hot, pungent fumes bore down upon Dickand his companion. They were compelled to stop, almost choking in thestifling atmosphere. The rays from the torch failed to penetrate thedense brownish cloud of smoke and dust.
"Carry on," spluttered Dick; then noticing that the midshipman seemedon the point of asphyxiation, he seized the torch and, dragging hiscompanion, made for the open air.
Suddenly he came to an abrupt halt. The gap between the crumblingwalls no longer existed. They were trapped.
The Fight for Constantinople: A Story of the Gallipoli Peninsula Page 3