'Where are we now?' asked Ken of Williams.
'Somewhere between Marmora Island and Rodosto. Whatever comes out o' the
Bosphorus for the Dardanelles is bound to run past us, and then--' A wink
said more than words.
The hours dragged by, and Roy began to growl again at the tediousness of
life beneath the ocean wave. Dinner time passed and still there was no
sign of the trooper.
'Looks to me as if news had got abroad that we're a waiting for 'em,'
growled Williams at last. 'Them chaps as got to land last night must ha'
wired to headquarters.'
The other coxswain who was at the periscope at the moment, looked up.
'Then the wires must ha' been down, Joe. She's a coming right now.'
'Let's have a look,' exclaimed Williams, springing across.
'Ay, you're right, Bill. There she is. A big un, too!'
'And, lumme,' he added with a growl, 'a blighted torpedo boat a escorting
of her!'
''Tis only one o' them tin Turkish rattle-traps,' said Bill with a pitying
air. 'The old man'll slap a tin fish into her afore she knows what's hit
her.
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