That afternoon the Thunderer was many miles away from the scene of the morning’s activities. The crew busied themselves with “cleaning up,” and both Jack and Amos were more or less interested in watching how the monster guns were taken care of.
Comparatively little damage had been done by the bursting of shells aboard the battleship. In fact, considering the rain of shot to which all the vessels of the invading fleet had been subjected, it was a matter of congratulation among the various commanders that no serious losses had resulted.
Launches were shooting this way and that as visits were exchanged; but these were in every case necessitated by the need of conferences, and not mere acts of courtesy. When the war paint was daubed on the battleships only business was
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 supposed to occupy the minds of those who were entrusted with the charge of the many units of the vast armada.
Amos had not as yet succeeded in entirely getting rid of his headache, though he admitted that he felt better. What he had witnessed that morning had made a deep impression on his mind, so that he could talk of little else.
They had had a good lunch in the mess-room at about one, and later in the day, as the sun drew nearer the watery horizon toward the west, the boys lounged in a favorite spot on deck, surveying the pleasing picture.
In every direction they could see big battleships, swift destroyers, mine-sweepers, and transports that had brought out new additions to take the place of those who may have been lost, as well as troops from both Great Britain and France.
Jack had found an opportunity to make certain inquiries, and he felt that it was time to communicate what he had learned to his chum.
“I asked about the British flag we saw floating
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 at the lower extremity of Gallipoli,” he remarked, “as well as the tricolor of France that was waving across on the Asiatic side of the straits, where Fort Kum Kaleh used to be. And they tell me that some thousands of troops have been landed there, and are entrenched, with batteries of quick-firing guns.”
“Then that is why certain vessels keep within a few miles of the straits all the time, is it?” asked Amos. “They mean to defend the shore parties if they are attacked by superior numbers of the Turks.”
“That’s just the whole thing in a nut-shell,” agreed Jack. “You know the fleet had little trouble in reducing the forts and batteries on the tip of Gallipoli to ruins in the beginning, because they could get a clean sweep and crossfire on Seddul Bahr and Orkhanieh. There in the ruins of those places the handful of British soldiers are standing at bay, ready to mow down the enemy if he starts anything.”
“But why are the French over across on the Asiatic shore, Jack?”
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“I suppose only to protect the British, for they have batteries too. But you understand, Amos, what I was trying to find out concerned the headquarters of the aviation corps.”
“Someone told me he thought it was on one of the Greek islands lying about twenty miles away as the crow flies,” Amos said.
“That may be all very true, but on the other hand I’ve heard there have been men landed in another quarter of the peninsula, part way up, and my informant assured me he believed some of the fliers made their start from one of the two camps.”
“That would be important news, if only we knew it to be true, Jack.”
“It would mean that we must manage to get ashore some way or other, and find out for ourselves, Amos. We’ve never made it a point to depend on others when we had a thing to be done, like the old farmer did, you remember.”
“Well, perhaps I’ve heard the story, Jack, but it wouldn’t do any harm to tell it again,” suggested Amos.
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“Oh! it is meant to show how foolish it is to think others will do things as well as you can yourself,” Jack commenced. “You see, it is something of a fairy story, too, and concerns a mother bird that had her little brood nearly ready for flying, with the nest concealed among the ripening grain of a farmer.”
“A dangerous place to build a nest, that’s sure,” observed Amos.
“One day when she came home the youngsters were in a great fright, for they said the farmer and his son had been walking close by, and declared the grain was ready to be cut, so they would send around for the neighbors, and start in on the next day. After she had managed to quiet her excited little brood the mother bird told them there was no need of worry, for the grain would not be cut.
“The next day when she came home they were as badly scared as before. The farmer and his son had been around again, and this time the old man declared that since their neighbors had all been too busy to respond, he would have to call
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 in his relatives, and get the wheat cut on the following day.”
Amos laughed.
“Chances were it wasn’t cut, Jack?” he remarked, sensibly.
“Well, she told them there was no danger, Amos; but when on the third day the mother bird came home, and the nestlings told her what had happened, it was different. The farmer had said that since neighbors and relatives had failed them, on the following day he and his son would have to take off their coats and reap the grain themselves. ‘It’s time we were going then, children,’ said the wise mother bird, ‘for when a man says he will do a thing himself, and stops depending on others, that settles it.’ And there’s the story, though I’m afraid it’s a chestnut.”
“Honestly, Jack, I never heard it before, though it’s a cracking good one, and illustrates the point you were making. But ever since we’ve been going together we’ve tried to do things ourselves, and depend on others just as little as possible. We’ll do it again in this case.”
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“I’ll take the first chance I can find to have a little talk with the commander,” ventured Jack.
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