'Give us a hand to launch her,
Ken.'
She was a considerable weight, and the shingle was deep and soft. There is
no tide in these waters, so the beaches are dry like those of a lake. In
spite of their best efforts, it took them some little time to get her
afloat.
They had only just succeeded and Ken was scrambling aboard, when rapid
steps came hurrying down the beach.
'Halt!' came a sharp voice speaking in Turkish. 'Who goes there?'
CHAPTER XIII
THE SWEEPERS
'Hurry!' hissed Roy.
'No use,' was the low-voiced answer. 'He'd get us both before we were out
of range.' As he spoke, Ken turned and stepped swiftly back to the beach.
'Friend,' he answered, speaking in the same language. 'Despatches for
Chanak from Colonel Gratz.'
The sentry, a burly Turk, armed with a Mauser rifle, pulled up opposite
Ken.
'Despatches,' he repeated suspiciously. 'Why are they being sent by boat?
And who gave you leave to use this boat?'
In a flash Roy saw that this was a man of more intelligence than the
average run of Turkish soldiers, and that it would be useless to try and
bluff him.
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