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, Dick 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 shell 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 shell 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 ashore, they lay down quietly on the bottom of the boat. "A bit of a tight corner, sir," exclaimed a voice which Dick 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 Dick 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 shelling--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 impassable Dardanelles at one end and the equally well-defended Bosphorus at the other, escape in anything except a submarine craft was impossible. "Whatever are those fellows up to?" enquired Farnworth, as two more shells, fired in quick succession, burst far inland. "They're giving their friends a taste of their own pills," replied Dick. "It's great! They've mistaken the troops for our men."