CHAPTER XIX
Misunderstandings
WE left Sub-lieutenant Tom Webb and the whaler's crew in the act ofbeing rescued by a destroyer flying the Italian ensign. The vesselwas the _Bersagliere_, a 28-knot boat armed with fourtwelve-pounders.
It was not sheer luck that brought it to the rescue of the Sub andhis companions. The liner that had passed them in the night was notso callous as they had supposed. Although she dared not stop toinvestigate the cause of the shouting, fearing the presence of ahostile submarine, she had sent out a wireless message in theInternational Code, reporting on the circumstance, giving theapproximate position, and suggesting the possibility of a U-boat.
The call was picked up by several patrolling war-ships, amongst themthe _Bersagliere_. The latter being nearest to the positionindicated, set off at full speed, and cleared for action in the eventof meeting with a U-boat which had resorted to the device of using adecoy.
The Italian destroyer's people were unremitting in their attentionsto what they supposed to be the sole survivors of a British navalcraft. Not one of either officers or crew could understand English,nor could Webb and his men speak a word of Italian, and the Sub'sendeavour to indicate by means of signs that the rest of thesurvivors were cast ashore on the Tripolitan coast, and were in direperil from the Senussi, was fruitless.
The commanding officer of the _Bersagliere_ did his best, but,unfortunately, with somewhat disconcerting results. He wirelessed inInternational Code the news that he had on board the sole survivorsof the British war-ship _Portchester Castle_. The message was pickedup and decoded by several vessels, and also the naval receivingstation at Malta, and within a very short time of the rescue of thewhaler's crew the inaccurate news was transmitted to the Admiralty.
Webb and his comrades were, of course, ignorant of this stage of theproceedings. They knew, however, that they were being taken in anor'westerly direction by the destroyer--farther and farther awayfrom the scene of the unequal conflict ashore. Instead of bringingaid to the hard-pressed Captain M'Bride and his handful of undauntedmen, they were being spirited away to an unknowndestination--possibly Castellamare or some other distant Italiannaval port.
"'Spose these Eytalians thinks as 'ow they are doin' their levelbest," remarked one man to his "raggie". "Strikes me we're beingbloomin' well kidnapped. Look 'ere, Ginger; you can 'andle a pencil.Just you draw a sort o' sketch of our chaps ashore, an' put a fewniggers in. That might do the trick."
Ginger pondered. The trouble was to get pencil and paper. The restwas simple, for he had a strong reputation amongst his lower-deckmates as an artist.
The difficulty was overcome by boldly commandeering a pad and pencilfrom the _Bersagliere's_ signalman, somewhat to the surprise of thegood-natured Italian; then, surrounded by interested spectators ofboth the Allied navies, Ginger proceeded with his task.
"'Ere we are," he explained. "Them's the sand-dunes; 'ere's theskipper, Number One, an' Lootenant Osborne. This is the zayreber;them's the enemy. That orter do the trick, didn't it, mates?"
"'Spose so," admitted one of the whaler's men rather dubiously. "Alittle smoke chucked in would improve the picture, I'll allow."
The artist reluctantly admitted the force of the criticism, andproceeded to depict far more vapour than modern engagements withsmokeless powder justified. Then, stepping up to one of the_Bersagliere's_ officers, he tendered his handiwork.
The Italian took the drawing and examined it intently andsympathetically. He was obviously puzzled for some minutes. Then asmile lit up his olivine features, and he spoke a few words to one ofhis men.
"Guess he's off to explain to the skipper of this packet," declaredGinger's pal. "I knowed that 'ud do the trick."
But instead of making his way to the bridge the Italian seaman wentbelow. The British tars regarded each other with feelings akin toconsternation, nor was their surprise any the less when the manreappeared with a dish containing a "plum duff" liberally providedwith currants.
The artistic idol of the _Portchester Castle's_ ship's company wasshattered.
"Arter all," decided the coxswain, "'tain't to be wondered at,Ginger. Those sand-dunes of yourn do look like the outlines of a'spotted Dick', smoke an' all; but I guess the owner wouldn't bepleased to find he'd been mistaken for a bloomin' currant."
Almost immediately afterwards attention was directed in anotherdirection, for a vessel was sighted on the starboard bow. In a fewmoments, for both craft were moving rapidly, the stranger was foundto be the British destroyer _Paradox_.
An exchange of signals followed. The _Paradox_ had been one of thevessels that had received the _Bersagliere's_ wireless message, andit was with the intention of taking over the survivors of the_Portchester Castle_ that she had made towards the Italian destroyer.
Once more Sub-lieutenant Webb trod the decks of a craft flying thewhite ensign; while the two destroyers, dipping their flags by way ofa courteous international salute, proceeded on different courses the_Bersagliere_ "holding on", while to her commander's astonishment hesaw the British craft circle to port, and steam off at full speed ina south-easterly direction, instead of returning to her base at SudaBay.
Webb had lost no time in explaining to the Lieutenant of the_Paradox_ that Captain M'Bride and a considerable number of men wereat bay on the Tripolitan coast; while to his surprise the Sub learntof the inaccurate wireless message from the _Bersagliere_ reportingthe whaler's crew as sole survivors of the ill-fated _PortchesterCastle_.
"We'll be in time yet, I think," remarked the commanding officer ofthe _Paradox_. "You reckoned to fetch Crete in an open boat and yetbe able to summon assistance. We've saved you at least twenty-fourhours. Yes, I'll see that a wireless correcting the previousinaccurate report is sent off; but I think I'll wait till we've seenthis business through."
Upon approaching the coast Webb could distinctly hear the rattle ofmusketry. That was a good sign. It told him that Captain M'Bride andhis men were still holding out.
At twenty-five knots the _Paradox_ was soon within range of hertwelve-pounders. In the slanting rays of the setting sun the densemasses of the Senussi could be distinctly made out. It was a targetthat could not well be missed.
Six rounds were sufficient. The Lieutenant-commander, standing on thedestroyer's bridge, thrust his binoculars into their case with anemphatic snap.
"Good enough!" he exclaimed. "Cease fire--out boats!"
Bringing the _Paradox_ to a standstill close to the almost submergedwreck of the _Portchester Castle_, and keeping between the latter andthe shore--a precaution necessary should hostile submarines be in thevicinity--her skipper lost no time in taking off the survivors of thetorpedoed armed merchant-cruiser. Yet before the evacuation of thezariba was accomplished night had fallen.
"I thought you would not fail us, Mr. Webb," was Captain M'Bride'sgreeting as he came over the side. "You've been very quick over thebusiness. How did you fare when the wind piped up?"
"Sheer good luck, sir," replied the Sub modestly. "We were picked upby an Italian destroyer and afterwards transferred to the _Paradox_."
The skipper of the _Portchester Castle_ kept his young officerengaged in conversation for some time, during which Webb's eyes wereperiodically turned in the direction of the returning boats. Yes,thank God! there was Osborne, apparently safe and sound; Dacres too,and Major Fane; most of the ship's officers whom Webb had left behindwhen he made his dash in the whaler.
At length his Captain dismissed him, and went below to enjoy thehospitality of the diminutive ward-room. Webb made his way across towhere Osborne was standing.
"Hallo, old bird--back again, you see!" was the Lieutenant'sgreeting, informal, but none the less hearty.
"Where's Haynes?" enquired Webb, after returning his chum'ssalutation. "I've been looking out for him, but all the boats havereturned."
"You're a bright lad not to spot your chums," rejoined Osborne. "Hewas one of the first to be brought off. He got it badly almost at thelast lap--a gunshot
wound in the side. Donovon's got him in hand now.'Fraid Haynes' career in the Service is a closed book."
"Sorry to hear that," said the Sub. "I only hope you're wrong,Osborne."
"Wouldn't be the first time," admitted the Lieutenant. "I made a finemess of things ashore just now." And he told his chum the episode ofthe Very pistol.
"Do you know where we are bound for?" he continued.
"Port Said--so I heard the Navigating Lieutenant of the _Paradox_say," replied Webb. "I was hoping that it was Malta; still, onemustn't complain after what we've been through. Not that we'll findEgypt particularly exciting just for the present. From all accountsthere's precious little doing."
But Sub-lieutenant Webb was mistaken in his surmise. Before very longhe was to find that the Land of the Pharaohs was anything but a placefor an uneventful existence.