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HOME > Short Stories > Two American Boys with the Dardanelles Battle Fleet > CHAPTER XIII. HEADED FOR THE GALLIPOLI SHORE.
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CHAPTER XIII. HEADED FOR THE GALLIPOLI SHORE.
Amos was now glad that Jack had been so positive about making all their arrangements beforehand. The dispatch boat would be in somewhat of a hurry, as the commander doubtless had a regular schedule to be carried out; and any unexpected delay was apt to disarrange this.
“I’m ready!” sang out Amos, almost before the marine who had aroused them according to orders from the lieutenant, whose duty kept him on deck at this hour, could have made his report.
“Same here,” came a voice from the darkness, “and the sooner we make out to reach the deck the better. They may object to losing even a minute of their precious time for a couple of Yankee boys.”
They knew their way perfectly, whether it were broad daylight or in the inky darkness of
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 night. Jack had looked out for that. It was a habit born of his woodcraft education that when in strange quarters the first thing to be done must be to impress every little thing on his mind—and a very good idea for any boy to take as his motto.
So they came on deck without colliding with anything. The first thing Jack did—and this also sprang from his two years’ experience out on the plains—was to cast an eye aloft.
The stars shone brightly, even though the world below lay shrouded in darkness. Those stars meant much more to Jack Maxfield than they might to the ordinary careless, happy-go-lucky lad. He was so well acquainted with the positions of the various planets that stood for the signs of the zodiac that all he needed at any time was one good look around, and he could tell pretty closely what the hour was.
Knowing this strong point on the part of his chum, Amos therefore was not at all surprised to hear him immediately mutter:
“It’s a good deal later than I expected. They
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 said the boat would come any time after midnight; but right now it’s less than two hours to peep of dawn.”
“Ginger! that may play the dickens with our plans for getting ashore, Jack!” exclaimed Amos. It might be noticed that never for one instant did he question the accuracy of his comrade’s statement; for in truth he had seen the other prove his ability to tell time by the position of the stars again and again.
“Oh, let’s hope not,” Jack went on to say with his customary assurance, for he always saw the bright side of things. “They must know what they are doing, and just how long it’s going to take them to run across to Gallipoli.”
“Yes, and, Jack, you remember the commander assured you they would have to send a boat in to shore, no matter what happened, for certain things had to be delivered to the general in charge of the Territorials. I guess it’s going to be all right.”
“There’s the dispatch boat coming up now, and with only one light showing. All these movements
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 look ghostly, let me tell you, Amos.”
“But there’s a good reason for every one of them,” remarked Amos, as they watched the swift boat drawing close to the bulky battleship.
“You can be sure there is,” said Jack. “If ever there was a case where constant vigilance is the price of safety, the British seamen know it during these exciting days. They never can tell when, without warning, a torpedo will smash against the side of their war vessel, sinking it inside of five minutes.”
“Or an aeroplane come sailing along overhead, and try to drop bombs down on the deck that might do a heap of damage. Whew! talk about living under a strain, I bet there’ll be a lot of old-young men after this war is over. Their hair will turn white in a year, from the constant suspense and worry.”
“There, the dispatch boat has halted, and they are sending a boat over to us, you can see. I make out the dip of the oars in the water, and can just barely hear the same in the rowlocks.
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 We’re expected to go off in that same boat, Amos.”
Two minutes later and they saw someone come aboard. The lieutenant of the big battleship met him and there ensued a short talk in low tones. Doubtless he was first of all handing over something which was to be taken ashore, possibly mail for the Territorials from their home ports. Then Jack guessed he must be giving the Vice-Admiral’s orders that the two American boys be landed at the camp, particular care being taken to insure their safety.
Immediately afterwards the officer belonging to the Thunderer turned and made a gesture with his hand that Jack knew must be meant for them. Accordingly he and his comrade drew forward.
“You are to be put in charge of this gentleman, who will see that you are taken ashore. It is the admiral’s orders, and we hope you will meet in your search with the success you certainly deserve.”
The British officer would not likely say as much as that to most strangers, but somehow
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 these two wide-awake lads had become favorites in the mess-room during their brief stay aboard the grim war vessel.
Shaking hands with the lieutenant, after he had made the first move himself, the boys managed to drop into the waiting boat with a fair amount of agility. Although they may not have been born seamen, and indeed, until lately, had had very little to do with boats of any size, at the same time they were naturally nimble, and athletic as well.
The two sailors rowed them across to the destroyer which was acting as a dispatch boat, awaited their coming, lying like a bird on the heaving bosom of the sea. They lost no time in getting aboard, after which the boat was hoisted with as little noise as possible.
Indeed, silence seemed to be at a premium in these exciting times. Every block had apparently been well oiled so that when the ropes pulled through there would be no squeaking to announce the fact. Smaller things than this have betrayed the presence of a boat to lurking foes;
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 and evidently th............
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