Having done two hours’ work, Ken and Roy were relieved, and after a much needed wash, went into the cabin for a mouthful of food.  Then Ken went forward, to find his father, wearing a rough black oilskin, combining the duties of look-out and skipper.  At the wheel was a young Englishman named Morgan, an amateur yachtsman who knew the Straits like the palm of his hand.

‘Where are we now, dad?’ asked Ken.

‘Opposite Bulair.’

‘What—­in the Straits?’

‘At their mouth, Ken.’

‘We haven’t wasted much time, then.’

’Indeed we haven’t.  But I am afraid we shall have to slow a bit now.  The fog is thicker than ever, there are no lights, and we don’t want to come to an ignominious end by piling ourselves up on the cliffs.

‘Still the fog’s our best friend,’ he continued, ’and we have plenty of time before us.  If we average no more than half-speed we should be clear before daylight.’

For another twenty minutes they carried on at full speed through the choking smother, then Captain Carrington rang to reduce speed.

‘We’re off Gallipoli now,’ he said.  ’That’s where I should have been by this time, Ken, if G 2 had not popped up just at the proper moment.’

‘It isn’t exactly a salubrious spot,’ Ken answered with a smile.  ’The “Lizzie” has been chucking her 15-inchers into the town whenever she hadn’t anything else to do.’

For the next two hours the launch nosed her way cautiously south-westwards, through the wet smother.  Most of the time she kept fairly close under the Asiatic shore.  There were fewer forts that side, and less danger therefore of attracting attention.

During the whole of that time she never sighted so much as a rowing boat.  The Straits were as empty as a country lane on a winter night.

About eleven Ken, who had done another spell of stoking, went forward again to where his father kept his ceaseless watch.

‘Getting near the Narrows, aren’t we?’ he asked in a low voice.

’We are, Ken.  If my reckoning is right Nagara Point is almost on our port bow.’

‘There’s a light of some sort just ahead, sir,’ said Morgan from the wheel.

‘I see it too,’ said Ken quickly.  ‘Can it be from the fort?’

Quickly the captain rang to slow still more.  With barely steerage way the launch moved noiselessly forward.  There followed some moments of breathless silence, while the three stared at the dull mysterious glow which was now almost exactly ahead.

‘It’s a craft of some sort,’ said Ken in a sharp whisper.  ’The light’s moving.’

‘You’re right.  Starboard a trifle, Morgan.’

Again a pause.  Then Ken spoke again.

’It’s a tug, father.  She’s towing a string of barges.  She’s going across to Maidos.’

‘Then I know what they’re doing,’ said Morgan.’  They’re taking stores across from the Asiatic side.  I heard they had started that game since our submarines began to worry them in the Marmora.’