CHAPTER XXII
THE HOLY MEN
As he scanned the scene, Frank smiled at his thought of the wondermentof the khanji and his humble guests could they but see the habitat ofthe mysterious "holy men." They, no doubt, had imagined a cave in thecliff, or at best a stone grot, with nothing to suggest moderncivilization. What he actually saw had no semblance of luxury, indeed;but it was far from the austerities of the anchorites of old.
On the left of the clearing, as he looked towards the sea, was a smallwooden bungalow, with a verandah about three sides of it, pleasantlyshaded by trees. Beyond it, at the edge of the wood, was a smaller hut,also of wood. To the right were three more huts, one considerablylarger than the others; and by the side of this last was a crane, workedby a donkey engine. Two men were moving about the place, haulingpackages from the large hut to the crane. Apparently they were to be letdown--to what destination below, Frank could not see.
"I am getting warm," he thought.
It was necessary to discover what lay beneath the crane, and Frankglanced round to find some safe and convenient path by which he mightsecretly approach it. As he did so, he caught sight of a short pole onthe roof of the bungalow, from which a single telegraph wire passed overthe clearing to the left and disappeared into the wood. Just below him,skirting the clearing on the right, ran the stream with which he wasalready acquainted. It was possible, he thought, under cover of theshrubs on the further bank, to gain a point where he might satisfy hiscuriosity. Cautiously making his way along, completely screened, hecame to a spot where the stream fell sheer to the level of the beachbetween high cliffs, through which it cut a channel to the sea.Immediately beneath the cliff on which the bungalow and the huts stoodthere was a broad pool, bounded by a similar cliff on the opposite side.And on this pool, just beneath the crane, lay a lighter.
Frank at once realised that the pool, like the buildings, was out ofsight from the sea. If a ship were to pass the entrance of the channel,those on board, seeing the waterfall, would at once know that the streamwas not navigable, and would probably not think it worth while to enterthe channel. No one would suspect that within, indented in the cliffsto the right, there was a small natural harbour, in which a vessel mightlie perfectly concealed. Its depth Frank had no means of determining.Immediately beneath him the water was churned into foam by the fallingstream. But it was clearly deep enough to float a lighter, and it wasequally clear that the depth of the channel must be sufficient for itspassage in and out.
From his place of concealment Frank watched. At the foot of the cranethere was now a pile of small packages. From one of the huts came astout bearded man in grimy blue overalls. He sidled into his seat atthe donkey engine, jerked the throttle, and addressed one of thelabourers. He spoke in Turkish, but in a harsh guttural voice that couldproceed from none but a German throat. A moment later Frank heardanother voice from the direction of the bungalow, which was hidden fromhim by the intervening huts. He could not distinguish the words, butimmediately afterwards a German sailor came out of the hut on theseaward side of the bungalow, saluted, and rolled off into the woodscrowning the cliff. Before he had quite disappeared, Frank noticed asecond sailor climbing down the trunk of a tall tree, and lifting hisglass (the excellent article for which he was indebted to the major ofartillery with whom he had made certain exchanges in Gallipoli) he madeout a rope ladder swinging from a lofty branch. The two sailors met atthe foot of the tree. They exchanged a few words; then the newcomerascended the ladder, and the look-out he had relieved sauntered towardsthe hut.
Realising that his hiding-place was commanded from the look-out post inthe tree, Frank slightly changed his position.
"I am getting warmer," he said to himself. Meanwhile the engine hadbegun to puff. The crane extended its arm, and the chain rattled as oneof the men was let down into the lighter. The packages were thenlowered one by one, and stowed on board. When the last of them had beenplaced, the man below caught hold of the chain, and the engine-man beganto lift him. But the man's feet were only a few feet above the vessel,and the arm of the crane had just begun to swing round, when there camean imperative call from the bungalow.
"Adolf!"
"Ja, Herr Major," shouted the engine-man.
He at once stopped the engine, and wiping his hands on a mass of waste,hurried towards the bungalow, leaving the Turk swinging. Frank smiledat this illustration of German discipline, and was still more amusedwhen he noticed that the Turk, instead of dropping into the pool andclambering on board the lighter as he might have done safely, clung onto the hook at the end of the chain and dangled there, apparently toofrightened to call out in a tone loud enough to be heard by the martinetin the bungalow.
Frank's attention was withdrawn from the Turk by the same loud voicebidding the engine-man hurry.
"That sounds uncommonly like Wonckhaus," he thought. "Why, of course!That's not surprising. He was with the party at Panderma when I caughtsight of that periscope. But perhaps it isn't he. A lot of theseGermans have the same sort of voice. I'd like to make sure."
After a careful look round he stole back along the bank of the streamuntil he came opposite the wood in the rear of the clearing, crossed tothe other side, crept through the wood, darted across the road, thenturned to the right and in the course of a few minutes reached the treeswhich had been left standing to shade the bungalow when the ground wascleared. Moving among them cautiously, he came to the rear of thebuilding. It had evidently been run up hurriedly. Piles of timber leftover from its construction were stacked close behind it. After a littlehesitation Frank gained the shelter of one of these. There were voicesat his right, where the verandah was closed at the end. The planksthere, being of unseasoned wood, had started, leaving one or two gapingcracks. Frank looked through one of these into the verandah. Two menwere lolling in deck chairs. Between them was a table on which therewere tumblers, bottles, and the remains of a meal.
The furthermost man, whose face was towards Frank, was clearly a Turkishofficer. He was smoking a cigarette. The nearer figure, broader, moremassive, showed only his side face. That belonged either to Wonckhausor to his double. He was reclining at ease. His right hand held a bigcigar. Opposite him stood the engine-man.
"Get everything ready for to-night, then," Wonckhaus was saying.
"Jawohl, Herr Major."
At this moment shouts came from the direction of the pool. Frank smiledagain: the suspended Turk had at last mustered the courage of despair.
"What is that horrible noise?" demanded Wonckhaus.
"It is probably the hamal," replied the engine-man.
"Why does he shout? What is the matter with him? Is he drowning?"
"No, Herr Major, he is hanging."
"Lieber Himmel! What do you mean?"
"He is half way up. I left him there when the Herr Major summoned me.He is getting tired. He will drop."
"Dummkopf! Go and haul him up instantly. He is a useful man."
Wonckhaus burst into loud laughter.
"It is amusing, very funny."
He took a long drink and resumed:
"There are occasions, lieutenant, when our admirable German disciplinerecoils upon us. But one cannot have it all ways. Take a drink."
"Thank you, major, but I will not drink beer. Some Turks take it with aquiet conscience, but not I."
"Please yourself. When we have been with you a little longer yourscruples will vanish. There are lemons; help yourself. How you candrink lemonade passes my understanding. Lemons set my teeth on edge.The scent of them makes me shudder."
The Turk was in the act of squeezing a lemon into a tumbler when atelegraph instrument clicked.
"Take it, will you?" said Wonckhaus, indolently.
The Turk sprang up and went through a French window into the adjoiningroom. The clicking continued for a while. Presently he returned.
"Three torpedo boats, two
believed to be British, one French, sightedoff Cape Baba," he said.
"Ah! our friends will scarcely get in to-night, then, unless they havealready slipped past."
"It will not be easy to see them in the darkness."
"These English have eyes everywhere. They see in the dark like a cat.Yet perhaps with luck and, what is better, German watchfulness, all willbe well. Hand me the telephone."
The Turk obeyed silently, but in a manner that suggested resentment atthe German's peremptory tone. Wonckhaus spoke into the instrument inGerman.
"Keep a sharp look-out. Torpedo boats are reported off the coast."
The lieutenant got up and moved towards the door.
"I shall turn in," called Wonckhaus after him. "You had better do thesame. We shall be up all night; probably to no purpose. I am tired ofthis. It would suit one of Von Tirpitz's men better than me."
He lay back in his chair, pulled at his cigar, and finding that it hadgone out, threw it away, rose, stretched himself, yawned, and walkedslowly into the bungalow.
Frank had heard and seen enough. He knew what the "holy men" wereengaged in. It only remained to return on his tracks and report hisdiscoveries to the lieutenant-commander, who would know how to act onthem. Slipping back into the wood, he made his leisurely way to hisformer observation post, where he sat down and ate some food he hadbrought from the khan, in the slow abstracted manner of one deep inthought. Then he returned by the way he had come, found his horse inthe thicket, and rode southward, without hurry, for his friends wouldnot expect him until dark.
On approaching the road, he dismounted, again tied up his horse to atree, and threw himself on his back. He was very tired, but dared notindulge his longing for a nap, and when he found slumber stealing uponhim, he sprang up and strolled about in the woods. The afternoon seemedparticularly long. But he was prudent enough not to take to the openroad until the fall of night. Then he rode rapidly, passed the khan,turned his horse loose some distance from it, and struck off towards theshore. It was a matter of some ten minutes' walking before he came tothe matting, which now lay dry on the beach where it had been left.There he sat, looking over the sea, and listening intently. About anhour later his ears caught the faint sound of muffled oars. He walkeddown to the brink of the water, waited a few moments until assured thathe was not mistaken, then gave a low whistle. The boat pulled in, andFrank, too impatient to await its beaching, waded out towards it andscrambled over the side.
"Well?" whispered the lieutenant-commander.
"O.K. Now it's up to you. I'll tell you all about it when we get clearof the shore."
Frank Forester: A Story of the Dardanelles Page 22
