CHAPTER XXV.
IN THE HANDS OF THE TURKS.
The "Sikorsky," being out of commission until further orders, the boyshad the liberty of free lances, and, by favor of the British militaryauthorities at Tenedos, accompanied an aerial fleet dispatched to thenorth, to work for a time with the forces of General Hamilton, recentlylanded on the northern side of the Gulf of Saros and also opening atvarious points on the Gallipoli peninsula. In spite of seriousopposition from the Turks in strong entrenchments protected by barbedwire, the khaki-clad troops were continuing to advance toward theinterior when the aviation aids arrived at the scene of action.
The flying contingent included the veterans, Captain Johnson and hisinseparable, Josh Freeman, to whom, without doubt, Billy and Henri owedtheir chance of getting places in the expedition.
"We may have to operate separately, young man," advised the captain,"and take assignments as they come, and I want to urge that you have acare about overleaping orders. I know you of old, and know that yousometimes forget that there is a limit."
"Here's a lecture on caution from a man who never dodged dangerous dutyin his life," laughed Billy; "we have acquired a whole lot of wisdom,professor, since we joined the war college over here."
"But still I have my eye on you," persisted the captain, with an attemptto hide a broad smile by a turn of the head.
If it so happened that the boys really did overshoot the mark early inthe advance movement, the fault was none of their promoting, and theauthority for the mishap was close behind them when it befell.
Billy was piloting no less a personage than "Daring Dan" Macauley, andHenri had behind him Marcus Jones Canby, also a hairbreadth member ofthe famous Seventh Corps, when they struck the snag that tumbled themwithin the Turkish lines.
The war-planes carrying our boys and soldier observers started from Enosat break of day to reconnoiter the territory along the Gulf of Saros,and get as near as possible to the line of defenses above theDardanelles, on the Marmora sea coast.
It was first acquaintance day with the pilots and their companions. Thetwo behind and the pair in front had no knowledge of just how they wouldbalance when it came to a weighing in of their metal on the scales ofemergency.
If, however, the young aviators expected restraint in the matter oftaking risks, they were entertaining an error in their minds.
Macauley and Canby were as free-handed in the acceptance of danger asany two men living, of which fact the wheelmen were very soon aware.
So the journey proceeded further and further afield without a word ofprotest from the officers, until all of a sudden the aircraft were inrapid ascent to clear a fortress crowning an elevation five hundred feetabove sea level.
Rising above the battery, the aviators looked down and out upon the Seaof Marmora. It proved that the garrison here was on the alert, acutelyso, for the reason that the British invasion of the peninsula to thenear west had sent a note of alarm up and down the coast.
Before Henri could get the war-plane he was guiding wholly out of range,a sharpshooter on one of the four towers of the Seddil-Bahr fort openedup with a Mauser magazine rifle, and to the ill fortune of the airmensent a bullet where it would do most harm in the propeller section ofthe craft.
The young pilot comprehended in a mental flash that a downshoot of thewings of the war-plane was the only thing to do, and he made it a longslide, so long, indeed, that the garrison waiting for the capture nevermade it.
But the landing on Marmora Island offered no other than the sameresult--the aviators had fallen into a web too wide for avoidance.
Billy never hesitated a minute in volplaning in the trail of thecrippled machine, and the two warplanes alighted almost at the sametime.
The young aviators jumped at the job of attempting repair, but failed tofinish before they and their companions were surrounded by Turks.Macauley and Canby instinctively reached for their revolvers, but itwould have availed nothing to resist, and would mean certain death fromthe muzzles of a score of rifles covering them.
"Hands down, Mac.," was Canby's cool and quiet address to his comrade;"we are up against it, and no use of making a bark."
The captive airmen were marched off to Marmora town between a doublefile of soldiers, while other islanders brought up the rear, draggingthe war-planes.
One of the Turkish officers spoke French, indicated by the few questionshe asked in that language, principally as to what had caused thedownfall of the aeroplane. The uniforms worn by Macauley and Canbypresented all the evidence required showing that they belonged to thepeninsula invaders.
That it was proposed to take the prisoners away from the islandforthwith was impressed by the incoming, upon signal, of a smallsteamboat, and the immediate ushering aboard of the airmen, who soonlearned that the destination was Islam's capital city.
"Going right to headquarters," remarked "Daring Dan," as the four leanedover the steamer rail watching the swirl of the tide, "and no cards withus to send on to the sultan."
"I hope the beds are well aired at the jail," drawled Canby, catchingthe humor of his comrade.
Billy and Henri were wondering just what the Turks were really going todo with them.
It was not until the following morning that the young aviators saw themarble minarets of Constantinople sparkling in the sunlight, and littlereckoned then that they were soon to pass the "high door" or "Sublimeporte," the principal entrance of the sultan's palace, which rose ingrandeur on the extreme point of the promontory where the ancient citystands. Just then the boys were more inclined to the belief that locksand bars were to form the only vision coming to them for many a day.
"Here's where the 'blood brotherhood' won't count," sighed Henri,reminded of their Cossack relation by happening to touch the amulet inhis blouse pocket.
"Might trade these flints for crescents," suggested Billy, "only I'mafraid we couldn't bluff the Turks with that sort of game."
While the boys were speaking the steamboat was puffing into the GoldenHorn, an inlet of the sea, at the north of the promontory.
Once on the central quay of the harbor the prisoners were marchedthrough an exceedingly crooked and tortuous street to the forbiddingfront of a gloomy-looking and huge pile of bygone architecture, and afew minutes later were the sole occupants of an immense and dimlylighted apartment, stone-walled and furnished only with a few woodenbenches, upon two of which the disconsolate quartette seated themselvesand waited in dreary anticipation for the next deal of fate.
Our Young Aeroplane Scouts in Russia; or, Lost on the Frozen Steppes Page 25
