by the gun, a 12-pounder
which had been raised from its snug niche in the deck, and was pointed
full on the steamer.

The latter was nearer than Ken had thought, and by this time it seemed
that her whole crew were in the boats, and the ship herself entirely
deserted.

'Ah, Carrington,' said the commander. 'You're the man who talks Turkish. I
can't quite make out whether the skipper of this old tub thinks his boats
can make the shore or whether he wants a tow. Ask him, will you?'

The Turkish skipper, a greasy-looking ruffian, was in a boat close by. He
was gesticulating wildly.

Ken at once hailed him, and asked the necessary question. The man burst
into violent speech.

Ken listened, and there was a smile on his face as he turned to the
commander.

'He's only swearing at us, sir, and asking what right we have to sink his
ship.'

'Tell him he'd better inquire of Enver Bey,' was the grim reply, and Ken
faithfully repeated the remark, only to hear a volley of curses called
down on Enver's head as well as on his own.

'He can't do anything but swear, sir,' said Ken.

'Well, we've no time to waste,' said the officer impatiently. 'Tell him to
clear out as quick as he can. I'm not going to waste shells on that thing.
A charge of gun-cotton in her hold is all she's worth.'

With much bad language, the Turkish skipper cleared off, and the three
boats containing himself and his crew pulled away in the direction of the
land, which was just visible on the almost before the words left the
commander's lips, and pulling like fury for the steamer.

'Make for the bows,' he heard Strang shout, and he did so.

The distance was nothing--merely a couple of hundred yards. He glanced
round over his shoulder, and saw the rusty bows towering above him--saw,
too, to his intense relief, that the old man had realised that he was to
be rescued and was moving forward.

Ken shipped his sculls. The dinghy glided in under the tall side of the
tramp. Ken stood up, and looked round for a rope. He could not see one.
There seemed no way of climbing the perpendicular side of the vessel, yet
it was quite clear that the old man could not get down unaided.

Ken saw his face appear over the rail. A gasp of astonishment came from
his lips.

'Othman!' he exclaimed. 'It's Othman Pacha!'

It was Othman Pacha, his old friend, the very man who had saved him when
his father was arrested. How had he come here? How was it he had been left
alone to