Read Ebook: On Land and Sea at the Dardanelles by Bridges T C Thomas Charles

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Ebook has 2052 lines and 55534 words, and 42 pages

'And what about Henkel?' asked Burney. 'Have you ever heard of him since?'

'Not a word. But'--Ken's voice dropped a tone--'I mean to. If he's alive I'll find him, and--'

He stopped abruptly, and suddenly gripped Burney's arm.

'There's some one listening,' he whispered. 'I heard some one behind that boat. No, stay where you are. If we both move, he'll smell a rat.'

'Well, good-night, Dave,' he said aloud. 'I must be getting below.'

Turning, he walked away in the direction opposite to that of the boat, but as soon as he thought he was out of sight in the darkness, he turned swiftly across the deck and made a wide circle.

He heard a rustle, and was just in time to see a dark figure dart forward, the feet evidently shod in rubber soles which moved soundlessly over the deck.

He dashed in pursuit, but it was too late. Being war time, the decks were of course in darkness, and the man, whoever he was, disappeared--probably down the forward hatch.

Ken came back to Burney.

'No good,' he said vexedly. 'The beggar was too quick for me.'

'Then there was some one there?'

'You bet. I saw him bolt.'

'Any notion who it was?'

Ken hesitated a moment.

'I'm not sure,' he answered in a low voice, 'but I've got my suspicions. I think it was Kemp.'

'What--that steward?'

'Yes, the chap who looks after the baths.'

'My word, I wouldn't wonder,' said Burney thoughtfully. 'He's an ugly looking varmint. But why should he be spying on you?'

'Haven't a notion. But I've spotted him watching me more than once since we left Alexandria. I'm going to keep my eye on him pretty closely the rest of the way.'

'Not much time left, old son. They say we'll be in Mudros Bay to-morrow morning.'

'Yes, I heard that. Which reminds me. I'm going down to get a warm bath. It may be the last chance for some time to come.'

This time Ken Carrington said good-night in earnest, and went below.

It was early for turning in, and nearly all of the troops aboard were still on the mess deck. Ken got his things from his bag and went down the passage to the bathroom. The 'Cardigan Castle' had been a swagger liner until she was impounded by Government to act as troopship, and she was provided with splendid bathrooms.

Carrington opened the door quietly, and was feeling for the switch of the electric, when he noticed, to his great surprise, that a port hole opposite was open.

Needless to say, this was absolutely forbidden. In war time a ship shows no lights at all, and it is a fixed rule that everything below must be kept closed and curtained.

Before he could recover from his first surprise he got a second shock. A tiny pencil of light--just a single beam, no more than a few inches in diameter--struck through the darkness and formed a small luminous circle upon the white-painted wall above his head.

It only lasted an instant, then a dark figure rose between him and the open port, and instantly the beam was intercepted, and all was dark as before.

Through the gloom he vaguely saw the arm of the man who stood in front of the port raised to a level with his head, while his hand moved rapidly.

Instantly he knew what was happening. This man was signalling. Carrington had heard of the German signalling lamp which, by means of ingeniously arranged lenses, throws one tiny ray which can be caught and flung back by a specially constructed mirror. That was what was happening before his very eyes. A glow of rage sent the blood boiling through his veins, and forgetting all about the switch he sprang forward.

As ill luck had it, there was a wooden grating in the middle of the cement floor. In the darkness, he failed to see this, and catching his toe, stumbled and fell with a crash on hands and knees.

He heard a terrified yelp, and the man made a dash past him for the door.

But the door was closed. Carrington had shut it behind him. Before the fellow could get it open, Ken was on his feet again, and had flung himself on the signaller.

With a snarl like that of a trapped cat, the man wrenched one arm free.

'Take that!' he hissed, and next instant Ken felt the sting of steel grazing his left shoulder. The sharp pain maddened him, and his grip tightened so fiercely that he heard the breath whistle from his opponent's lungs.

At the same time he flung all his weight forward, and the other, thrown off his balance, went over backwards and came with a hollow crash against the door.

The two fell to the floor together, and rolled over, fighting like wild cats.

Ken's adversary was smaller than he, but he seemed amazingly strong and active. He wriggled like an eel, all the time making frantic efforts to get his right hand free, and use his knife again.

But Ken, aware of his danger, managed to get hold of the fellow's wrist with his own left hand, and held it in a grip which the other, struggle as he might, could not break. At the same time, Ken was doing all he knew to get his knee on his enemy's chest.

It was the darkness that foiled him--this and the eel-like struggles of his adversary. At last, in desperation, he let go with his right hand, and drove his fist at the other's head. He missed his face, but hit him somewhere, for he heard his skull rap on the floor, while the knife flew out of his hand, and tinkled away across the cement floor.

Ken felt a thrill of triumph as he heaved himself up, and getting his knees on his adversary's chest, seized him with both hands by the throat.

Before he could tighten his grip came a tremendous shock, and he was flung off the other as if by a giant's hand. As he rolled across the floor, followed a crash as though the very heavens were falling. The whole ship seemed to lift beneath him, at the same time stopping short as though she had hit a cliff.

For an instant there was dead silence. Then from the decks above came shouts and a pounding of feet. Half stunned, Ken struggled to his feet, and staggered towards the door. As he did so, he heard the click of the latch, and before he could reach it, it was banged in his face.

Groping in the darkness, he found the handle. He turned it, but the door would not open. In a flash the truth blazed upon him. He was locked in. The spy had locked the door on the outside. He was a helpless prisoner in a torpedoed and probably sinking ship.

THE LAST OF THE 'CARDIGAN CASTLE'

Ken's head whirled. For the moment he was unable to collect his ideas. He stood, grasping the door handle, listening to the thunder of feet overhead and the shouted orders which came dimly to his ears.

He heard distinctly the creaking of winches, and knew that the boats were being lowered. His worst suspicions were true; the ship was actually sinking.

This lasted only a few seconds. Ken Carrington was not the sort to yield weakly to panic. He pulled himself together, and felt for the switch.

It clicked over, but nothing happened. The shock of the explosion had evidently thrown the dynamo out of gear. Then he remembered the little electric torch which he always carried, and in an instant had it out of his pocket, and switched it on.

He flashed the little beam across the floor, and its light fell upon the wooden grating over which he had stumbled in his first rush at the enemy signaller. This lay alongside the bath. It was about six feet long and made of four heavy slats nailed on a framework.

It took Ken just about five seconds to lay down his lamp and heave up the grating.

Short as the time had been since the first shock of the torpedo, the ship was already beginning to list heavily. The floor of the bathroom now sloped upwards steeply to the door.

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