The Fight for Constantinople: A Story of the Gallipoli PeninsulaWesterman, Percy F. (Percy Francis)
History
The Fight for Constantinople: A Story of the Gallipoli Peninsula
Westerman, Percy F. (Percy Francis)
Adventure stories; Great Britain. Royal Navy -- Juvenile fiction; World War, 1914-1918 -- Juvenile fiction
Fortunately the Sub's calmer councils prevailed. He realized upon
second thoughts that with a weapon to which he was not accustomed there
was a good chance of a miss. It would be of more service to the
British naval and military authorities to be informed of all the
preparations for defence that the officers had observed, rather than
attempting to destroy at long odds a couple of torpedo-tubes and the
torpedo gunners.
It was fairly safe to assume that these tubes had only recently been
placed in position. For one reason, the concrete platforms looked
fairly new; for another, Dick was certain that the torpedoes that had
been fired at the _Calder_ during her observation-dash up The Narrows
had not been discharged from that position. It showed that, however
gallant the dash had been, it was useless unless contingent measures
were immediately forthcoming before the Turks could erect new guns and
torpedo-firing stations.
All these observations Dick and his companion made with great rapidity.
A naval training teaches a man to observe and act promptly. Every
minute was precious, for by this time the German sergeant-major might
have made the discovery of his two unconscious officers.
As a matter of fact, the fellow had gone straight to the room in which
"the cursed Englishmen" were supposed to be detained, but finding the
door locked, he concluded that Major von Eitelheimer and
Second-lieutenant Schwalbe had finished their business with the
prisoners, and had gone to their quarters before proceeding on parade.
"We'll have to get clear of this, Farnworth," declared Dick. "Are you
game for a twenty-foot drop? It'll mean neck or nothing."
"Or perhaps a broken ankle, sir," added the midshipman. "I saw a pole
with a hook at one end a little way along the gallery. I'll get it."
Farnworth backed through the embrasure and hurried off. Without
arousing any suspicion, for the Turkish artillerymen still kept out of
sight of the supposed German officers, he removed the pole from its
slings. It was about fifteen or eighteen feet in length, and, as the
midshipman had stated, was provided with a large steel hook.
With very little difficulty he passed it, hook end inwards, to the Sub,
who recognized it as being part of the equipment of Turkish
fire-brigades. He had seen men using this device on a previous visit
to the Near East, when a disastrous fire broke out in the Galata
district of the capital of the Ottoman Empire. Whenever a fire showed
signs of getting beyond the control of the firemen with their primitive
appliances, these poles were employed to pull down adjacent houses and
thus limit the conflagration to a certain area.
"Spiffing!" declared Dick. "Now down you shin, while I keep the hook
from slipping."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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