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For three long marches we followed the left bank of the growing river, until at last we saw it roll its mighty volume into the vast waters of the sea. Far out across the rippling ocean we described three islands. The one to the left must be Anoroc. At last we had come close to a solution of our problem the road to Sari. But how to reach the islands was now the foremost question in our minds.
I asked Ghak if we could make Sari in time to escape them. "We may," he replied; "but you will find that the Sagoths can move with incredible swiftness, and as they are almost tireless they are doubtless much fresher than we. Then " he paused, glancing at Perry. I knew what he meant. The old man was exhausted.
The sandal mark on the Boisnavi's nose was long and fine, her hair was braided, she wore a sari with a coloured border, and carried a small tambourine in her hand. She wore brass bracelets, and over them others made of black glass. One of the elder women addressed her saying, "Who are you?" The Boisnavi replied, "My name is Haridasi. Will the ladies like a song?"
"This Suvla army, unless it can get to the top of Sari Bair, is faced with destruction, and they tell me the Helles army is just the same, unless it can get to the top of Achi Baba. It never will now, sir. And how can we quit without being seen from those hills? The 'Uns know they've got us trapped. That's why they're coming through Servia, ammunition and all. They'll be on us soon."
Opposite Anoroc we came to anchor quite close to shore. I knew from my previous experience with the tortuous trails of the island that I could never find my way inland to the hidden tree-village of the Mezop chieftain, Ja; so we remained aboard the Sari, firing our express rifles at intervals to attract the attention of the natives.
So a simple boy-scout trick came in useful on active service. Now came a period of utter stagnation It was a deadlock. We held the bay, the plain of Anafarta, the Salt Lake, the Kislar Dagh and Kapanja Sirt in a horse-shoe. The Turks held the heights of Sari Bair, Anafarta village, and the hills beyond "Jefferson's Post" in a semicircle enclosing us. Nothing happened.
When we cut the ropes and removed the blocks that held the Sari in place she started for the water with a lunge. Before she hit it she was going at a reckless speed, for we had laid our tracks quite down to the water, greased them, and at intervals placed rollers all ready to receive the ship as she moved forward with stately dignity. But there was no dignity in the Sari.
And, looking up, at last, to share it with Nevil, she caught him in the act of tracing a curve of her sari in mid-air. With a playful movement pure Eastern she drew it half over her face. "Oh, Nevil you wicked! I never guessed " "That was the beauty of it. I make my salaams to Roy! What's he been up to that it takes four sheets to confess?" "Not confessing. Telling a tale. It will surprise you."
Since the landing at Anzac Cove, the Turks, under the supervision of their German mentors, had fortified every yard of the thousand feet of heights known as Sari Bair. An unprecedented number of machine guns had been brought up and placed in concealed positions from which it was possible to sweep every line of advance, thus powerfully increasing the volume of the infantry and artillery fire.
It seemed to me that the gold border of her sari was her own inner fire flaming out and twining round her. That is the flame we want, visible fire! Look here, Queen Bee, you really must do us the favour of dressing once more as a living flame." So long I had been like a small river at the border of a village. My rhythm and my language were different from what they are now.
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