(_Sd._) "BIRDWOOD."

The faces round that table took on a look--when I close my eyes there
they sit,--a look like nothing on earth unless it be the guests when
their host flings salt upon the burning raisins. To gain time I asked
one or two questions about the tactical position on shore, but
Carruthers and Cunliffe Owen seemed unable to add any detail to
Birdwood's general statement.

I turned to Thursby and said, "Admiral, what do you think?" He said, "It
will take the best part of three days to get that crowd off the
beaches." "And where are the Turks?" I asked. "On the top of 'em!"
"Well, then," I persisted, "tell me, Admiral, what do _you_ think?"
"What do I think: well, I think myself they will stick it out if only it
is put to them that they must." Without another word, all keeping
silence, I wrote Birdwood as follows:--

"Your news is indeed serious. But there is nothing for it but to dig
yourselves right in and stick it out. It would take at least two days to
re-embark you as Admiral Thursby will explain to you. Meanwhile, the
Australian submarine has got up through the Narrows and has torpedoed a
gunboat at Chunuk. Hunter-Weston despite his heavy losses will be
advancing to-morrow which should divert pressure from you. Make a
personal appeal to your men and Godley's to make a supreme effort to
hold their ground.
(_Sd._) "IAN HAMILTON."

"P.S. You have got through the difficult business, now you have only to
dig, dig, dig, until you are safe. Ian H."

The men from Gaba Tepe made off with this letter; not the men who came
down here at all, but new men carrying a clear order. Be the upshot what
it may, I shall never repent that order. Better to die like heroes on
the enemy's ground than be butchered like sheep on the beaches like the
runaway Persians at Marathon.

De Robeck and Keyes were aghast; they pat me on the back; I hope they
will go on doing so if things go horribly wrong. Midnight decisions take
it out of one. Turned in and slept for three solid hours like a top till
I was set spinning once more at 4 a.m.

At dawn we were off Gaba Tepe. Thank God the idea of retreat had already
made itself scarce. The old _Queen_ let fly her first shot at 5.30 a.m.
Her shrapnel is a knockout. The explosion of the monstrous shell darkens
the rising sun; the bullets cover an acre; the enemy seems stunned for a
while after each discharge. One after the other she to