Astern at 5:26 we saw the outline of some of the
transports, gradually growing bigger and bigger as they approached the
coast. They were bringing up the remainder of the Austrians and New
Zealanders.
The first authentic news we received came with the return of our boats.
A steam pinnace came alongside with two recumbent forms on her deck and
a small figure, pale but cheerful, and waving his hand astern. They were
one of our midshipmen, just 16 years of age, shot through the stomach,
but regarding his injury more as a fitting consummation to a glorious
holiday ashore than a wound, and a chief stoker and petty officer, all
three wounded by that first burst of musketry which caused many
casualties in the boats just as they reached the beach.
From them we learned what had happened in those first wild moments. All
the tows had almost reached the beach, when a party of Turks intrenched
almost on the shore opened up a terrible fusillade from rifles and also
from a Maxim. Fortunately most of the bullets went high, but,
nevertheless, many men were hit as they sat huddled together 40 or 50 in
a boat.
It was a trying moment, but the Australian volunteers rose as a man to
the occasion.
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