A violent splashing in the phosphorescent water, followed by reiterated appeals for aid, caused Dick to steer the canvas boat in the direction of the commotion. A seaman in Turkish uniform was swimming for dear life. His strength was fast failing him, and it seemed impossible that he could hold out long enough to reach the shore. With his remaining energies he grasped the gunwale of the frail Berthon and hung on desperately. "Don't take him on board," ordered Dick, as one of the seamen grasped the Turk by the collar. "You'll upset us if you do; but hold on to him." The Sub's first intention was to return, towing the man into shallow water, and there let him shift for himself. On second thoughts he remembered that his orders to return to the submarine with the utmost dispatch were peremptory. However undesirable it was to take a prisoner on board, in addition to the rescued men of the _Hammerer's_ whaler, his humane feelings would not allow him to refuse aid to his enemy. "Give way!" ordered Dick. The men bent to their oars. The Sub steered for the now discernible "E--", while the Turk, held in the iron grip of his rescuer, was ignominiously towed through the water. "All present, sir!" reported Crosthwaite. "Any casualties?" enquired Huxtable anxiously. "Three, sir." The Lieutenant-Commander looked worried. The interior of a submarine is no place for a wounded man. There was no medical attention available. The sufferers had to rely solely upon the rough yet good-natured attentions of their comrades. Nevertheless Huxtable had good cause to congratulate himself and his subordinate upon the result of the operations. Not only had a hostile craft been sunk, but all the survivors of the _Hammerer's_ landing-party had been rescued. And yet the business was far from being accomplished. A tedious wait--at least a nerve-racking ordeal--had to be followed by the return dash through the mine-strewn Dardanelles. CHAPTER XX Saving the Old "Hammerer" "Effendi, I speak truth. It is not my wish that I fight the English." "How came you to speak English?" demanded Huxtable. The examination of the rescued Turkish sailor was in progress. The man had recovered from the effects of the explosion and his subsequent exposure in the water. He was tall, lithe, olive-featured, and of an open countenance. "I have served in English ship: one that traded between Smyrna and Malta, effendi," he replied. "My name it is Osman Kosmoli. I am an Armenian and a Christian." "Eh?" interrupted the Lieutenant-Commander incredulously. "A Christian? I thought Christians were not allowed to serve in the Ottoman navy." "Before the war, no; after the war, yes," replied Kosmoli composedly. "So long as a man he is a sailor it no matter. I no want to fight. They make me. I thank effendi for saving my life," and he bowed his head at Dick, who was sitting by the side of the Lieutenant-Commander.