THE STRUGGLE IN THE CUTTING.
POSSIBLY no one was more astonished than Terence to find himself a
full-blown lieutenant. Yet it was a fact and a pleasant surprise,
especially when he had misgivings as to the unorthodox method of
destroying the hostile submarine.
Promotion, he knew, meant an appointment to another ship. That was
the fly in the ointment, for in spite of certain discomforts that
life on a destroyer brings in its train, he had become thoroughly
attached to the "Livingstone."
He had hopes that his old skipper, Captain Holloway, late of the
"Terrier," might use his influence in getting him appointed to the
"Bombard"--a modern light-cruiser which Captain Holloway had recently
commissioned, and which, according to well-founded rumours, was to
proceed to the Mediterranean to take part in the operations against
the Dardanelles.
It was therefore with mixed feelings that Terence found himself
appointed to his old ship, the armed merchantman "Strongbow," which,
having completed her extensive repairs and refit at Aberdeen, was to
be recommissioned, as far as practicable, with her former officers
and crew.
The newly-appointed lieutenant was sorry, since it meant being
relegated to the somewhat monotonous, although necessary task of
patrolling, instead of having a chance to smell powder on one of the
fighting ships. Unless an unforeseen incident occurred, the
possibilities of quitting the patrol service seemed very remote. The
number of hostile mines in the North Sea had been steadily reduced by
systematic sweeping while the German pirate submarines seemed to give
the northern area of the North Sea a wide berth--possibly owing to
the fact that there was more scope for the despicable energies in the
Channel and in the vicinity of the great mercantile ports. Thus the
element of risk that prevailed in the earlier stages of the war had
been considerably diminished; henceforth, according to Aubyn's
opinion, patrol work would be one long round of cruising, examining
neutral vessels, and, perhaps, making a few isolated captures of
ships carrying suspected contraband.
Yet it was his duty, and he accepted it in the spirit of a true
British seaman: he had to obey orders even if they entailed work of a
cheerless and uneventful character.
On the other hand, Terence was pleased at the thought of having to
meet his former comrades. Nor would the severe climatic conditions be
so intense. The days were longer and the nights correspondingly
shorter, and although the temperature was low and the Equinoctial
gales about due, the fact that spring was rapidly approaching was in
itself sufficient compensation for the passing rigours of patrol work
in the North Sea.
The lieutenant had two clear days before rejoining the "Strongbow,"
which had left Aberdeen and put into Leith to replenish magazines and
bunkers. Owing to the dislocation of the train service through the
moving of large numbers of troops from the North to Salisbury Plain,
Terence knew that it would be unwise to delay his journey. He
therefore decided to proceed straight to Edinburgh, put up for the
night, and go on to Leith on the following morning.
Arriving in London he seized the chance of visiting a theatre in
company with some friends, knowing that it might be months before a
similar opportunity occurred again; then, having had supper, he
caught the night mail train to the north.
There were comparatively few passengers. The lieutenant, finding that
he had a first-class carriage to himself, thought it best to spend
the tedious journey by snatching a few hours' sleep.
Accustomed to slumber under awkward conditions he was soon lost in
oblivion. How long he slept he had no idea. Suddenly he was awakened
by the hurried application of the brakes. The train slowed down so
quickly that the alteration of momentum wellnigh threw him off the
seat. He glanced at his watch. It was ten minutes past two. Under
ordinary circumstances the journey was a non-stop one, the mails
being dropped or taken up by means of nets while the train was in
motion.
Curiosity prompted Terence to open the window and look out. It was a
pitch dark night. Rain was falling in a steady drizzle. The lamps in
the carriages had been screened by drawing the blinds, as a
precaution against hostile air-raids, but in many cases the
passengers had rushed to the windows. Thus the glare of the lamps
showed the lieutenant that the train had come to a standstill in a
rocky cutting.
"Rotten night," commented Aubyn to himself.
He looked along the line. The signals were not set at danger, for a
hundred yards ahead of the engine a bright green light gleamed
through the mirk.
"What's up, guard?" asked Terence, as that official, followed by two
or three passengers, walked briskly along the permanent way. Already
he had gone to the front part of the train to confer with the driver,
and was now on his way back.
"Man killed or something," replied the guard vaguely. "A soldier
stopped the train--one of them chaps guarding the tunnel. You're not
a doctor, by any chance, sir? We had half a dozen ships' doctors in
the train last night."
"I am not," replied Terence. "But I'll go with you, in case I can be
of any use."
Buttoning his great-coat up to his chin and pulling the peak of his
cap well over his eyes, the lieutenant descended and joined the
little band of volunteer helpers.
The rear end of the train was only just clear of the tunnel, so
promptly had the driver brought the engine to a standstill. Lying by
the side of the rail was a motionless figure in khaki, while standing
by him and still grasping his rifle and bayonet was another soldier.
"No doctor, my man," declared the guard. "I've inquired of every
carriage. How did it happen? We didn't run over your mate, did we?"
"No," replied the Tommy, an elderly National Reservist. He was
shaking like a leaf. "No, it was that goods train. Cut his foot off
as clean as a bloomin' whistle. But that ain't the point. Poor old
Bill was put across the metals, only the bloke didn't do the job
properly."
"What?" exclaimed the guard incredulously.
"Truth--honest truth--an' my eyesight ain't at fault, even though
it's a beastly dark night. Bill was standin' easy over there. I was
about here. S'elp me, as true as I'm a-standin' here, I saw a bloke
spring upon my chum and push him across the line. Afore I could up
with my rifle the train comes tearing along. When it had gone it was
too late. The bloke had done a bunk. And," he added reminiscently,
"Bill was a right good sort. Never had a grudge against nobody, so it
licks me why the fellow wanted to out him."
Meanwhile, Terence had been paying attention to the unfortunate
sentry. The man was dead. His left foot had been severed at the
ankle. That in itself would hardly be sufficient to cause death.
"Turn your light this way, guard," said Aubyn, as he began to
unbuckle the man's ammunition pouches and to unbutton his coat. A
thin streak of blood upon the victim's shirt told its own tale. He
had been shot--evidently by a small yet powerful pistol at close
range, for the great-coat and buff straps were pitted with the grains
of powder.
"Did you hear a shot fired?" demanded Terence.
"No, sir," replied the Tommy. The suggestion of a shot being fired
aroused a new train of ideas in his mind. "No, sir; see, his rifle
hasn't been discharged."
"I mean, did you hear a shot being fired at him?"
The sentry shook his head.
"The man's been murdered by a pistol shot, right enough," declared
Terence. "Either the noise of the train deadened the report, or else
the murderer muffled the weapon in a cloth. The best thing you can
do, guard, is to take the poor fellow's body on to the next station."
"An my relief ain't due for another hour and a quarter!" gasped the
remaining sentry. He had been completely unnerved at the sight of his
chum being foully done to death.
"All right, my man," said Terence, "I'll stop with you. I suppose I
can get to Edinburgh by another train, guard?"
"Yes, sir," replied that official. "Next station's only a matter of
three or four miles. But you won't be lonely. There's half a dozen
troop trains on the up-line within the next three hours. I'll take
the corpse, sir, if these gents'll bear a hand. 'Tain't the first
poor chap that's been done in like this: not by a long way.
Good-night, sir, and good luck."
Presently the mail train resumed its journey. The sentry, nervously
fingering his rifle, seemed grateful to the young officer, but at the
same time he regarded him with a certain amount of suspicion. Perhaps
his naval uniform was a disguise. He might be an accomplice of the
man who had murdered his chum. Troop trains? That started a fresh
chain of surmises. This dastardly act might be that of a spy, intent
upon damaging the tunnel and wrecking the crowded trains.
"Look here, my man," said the lieutenant, "are you game to going and
standing where your chum was posted?"
"What for, sir?" asked the soldier, with obvious reluctance at the
suggestion.
"Oh, never mind. I'll go. You remain here. If you see or hear
anything suspicious, don't hesitate--shoot. You're a fairly good
shot, I hope?"
"Don't know about that, sir; I feel all of a tremble."
"Then fire anywhere, as long as you don't wing me. I want you to prop
yourself between these two rocks and keep as quiet as you possibly
can. Don't let yourself be seen. I'll take your chum's rifle. If you
hear me fire, hop across the line as sharp as you can, with your
bayonet at the charge. Buck up, man, and keep your nerves."
Having seen the sentry take up the position indicated--in a niche
formed by two large boulders in the side of the cutting--Terence
secured the rifle and bayonet of the dead man. The rifle was a
magazineless '303, with Martini action, similar to those issued to
troops engaged in home defence.
Donning the pouches of the unfortunate sentry, the lieutenant took
out a cartridge, inserted it into the breech and closed the
breech-block. Then, having ascertained by touch that the back-sight
was down, he crossed the line and commenced to walk the murdered
sentry's beat.
In the darkness his naval cap and great-coat were not to be
distinguished from those of the man he was impersonating. He felt
certain that should the crime have been committed by a German agent,
the reason was the destruction of the tunnel. When the mail train
stopped, the miscreant would certainly betake himself to a safe
distance; but with his work uncompleted, he would almost certainly
return. He had marked the time when the two sentries were posted he
knew when their reliefs were expected. Before that time he must
render the second sentry incapable of raising an alarm and then
proceed with the blocking of the line.
In his operations the spy had made one serious blunder. He had shot
the sentry, as had been surmised, and had thrown his body on the line
in front of the goods train, so that it would be taken for granted
that the luckless man had been knocked down while incautiously
walking his beat. But instead of the train mangling the victim's body
and thus destroying all traces of the fatal shot, the wheels had only
severed one of the unfortunate man's feet.
For half an hour Terence maintained his sentry-go. The rain was now
falling heavily. His great-coat felt as weighty as lead. The moisture
dropped from the peak of his cap and filled the palm of his left hand
as he held the butt of his rifle.
The sub.'s nerves were in splendid condition. The hand that held the
rifle was as steady as a rock. With eyes and ears strained he paced
to and fro, prepared at the least sound to face about, bring his
rifle to the ready and fire.
From a strategic point of view his position was an unsound one. By
the remaining sentry's description the miscreant must have retired
from the scene of action not by running into the tunnel but by
scaling the fairly accessible wall of rock. Consequently the
anticipated attack would be from that direction, and Terence was
liable to be fired at from a height of from ten to fifty feet above
his head.
Presently a dull but increasing rumble greeted his ears. It was a
local down-train, which had just entered the far end of the tunnel.
Instead of grounding the butt of his rifle and facing the line, as he
had seen other sentries do, the lieutenant marched to the mouth of
the tunnel; then, leaning his shoulder hard against the massive stone
buttress, waited for the train to pass.
A vivid flame spurted from the opposite side of the cutting, followed
practically simultaneously by a sharp report that outvoiced the roar
of the train. The sentry, without waiting to challenge, had "let
rip."
Bringing his rifle to the ready, Terence waited. He had not long to
wait. Silhouetted against the gloomy rain-laden sky--for by this time
Terence's eyes were used to the darkness--appeared the head, arms and
shoulders of a man. In his right hand he held an automatic pistol,
and was now blazing away indiscriminately, judging by the splash of
flame that stabbed the night in varying directions. He seemed to be
leaning over a rock in the side of the cutting with the intention,
now that he had been fired upon, to get at close quarters with the
sentry.
Bringing his rifle to his shoulder Terence aimed low and pressed the
trigger. The fellow gave no convulsive spring; he merely toppled over
and fell on the permanent way just as the train emerged, with a rush
and a roar and a dense cloud of steam, from the tunnel.
Jerking the lever of his breech-block, the lieutenant inserted a
fresh cartridge. He still kept close to the buttress, even after the
train had passed. Experience had taught him the necessity for caution
in dealing with a wily foe. Not that he feared anything from the man
who had been shot. His headlong tumble down the almost precipitous
side of the cutting was too realistic for a person shamming death.
The soldier, emerging from his shelter, began to cross the line.
Before he was half-way across, another shot rang out from the top of
the cutting. The Tommy collapsed in a heap.
Terence let him lie. His whole attention was centred upon the spot
from whence the last bullet had sped. With his rifle ready to be
lifted to his shoulder, Aubyn waited like a hunter stalking his prey.
He knew that he would not have to wait long. A desperate attempt was
being made to destroy the tunnel--an attempt in which the lives of
two or more men mattered but little provided success attended the
miscreants' efforts. The firer of the last shot, he reasoned,
imagined that with the murder of the first sentry, he had only one
man to deal with, and now he was lying motionless on the ballast.
Thinking that "the coast was clear" the desperado would presently
show himself.
A hunched-up shape appeared at the top of the embankment. Some one
was descending with his face towards the rock. He was progressing
slowly and cautiously, making certain that he had obtained a firm
foothold before he groped for a lower one. Every now and then he
would turn his head and look towards the doubled-up body of the
sentry, till, satisfied that there was no danger in that direction,
he gave his whole attention to his descent.
Levelling his rifle, Terence took deliberate aim. He had no qualms in
so doing. The fellow was a murderer and train-wrecker, and
undoubtedly an agent of the German Government. The lieutenant was
alone and unsupported. If he should be "done in" there would be no
further obstacle between the miscreant and the success of his
diabolical scheme. Besides, there might be more than two men engaged
in the enterprise, which, if it matured, might mean the death of
perhaps hundreds of human beings.
Terence aimed fairly in the centre of the climber's back. It afforded
the best target in the darkness.
With no more compunction than if he were shooting a rat, the
lieutenant pressed the trigger.
The report of the rifle was outvoiced by a loud detonation,
accompanied by a vivid flash. For one moment Terence stood stock
still, his eyes temporarily blinded by the sudden glare. Then he
realized that his cap had gone. His face was wet, not with the chilly
rain but with a warm moisture. Something had struck him on the cheek,
inflicting a small cut from which the blood flowed freely.
"A pretty rumpus!" he soliloquized. "The rotter has plugged me--no,
it can't be that. It's only a slight gash. I wonder if he hurled a
bomb."
"Blowed to atoms, sir; that's what's happened to him--the blighter!"
exclaimed a voice that seemed to come from the ground.
"I thought you were a dead man, by Jove!" exclaimed Terence bluntly,
as he recognized the sentry by his voice.
"Not yet, sir," replied the man. "He put a bullet through my
leg--just above the knee. It don't hurt much, but it kippered me, so
I thought I'd lie low and see what happened. I'd a cartridge ready,
though, in case of an accident."
"We ought to stop the next train," said Terence, as he stooped to
recover his cap. "The rail might be damaged. I think that fellow had
a few detonators on him, and my shot did the trick. How did you stop
the train I was in?"
"Had a lantern, sir. It's somewhere along the line. But our chaps
must have heard the racket, an the sergeant'll be coming along in
half a tick."
"Wind the wrong way," declared Terence laconically. "I'll bandage
that leg of yours and then I'll get the lantern."
The miscreant's bullet--from a small calibre high velocity
pistol--had passed completely through the soldier's leg, fortunately
without severing any arteries. Having attended to the wound and
bidden the man sit down by the side of the bank, Aubyn set out on his
search.
It was a fruitless quest. Other means had to be found to bring the
troop train to a standstill.
"There's a signal a couple of hundred yards down the line, sir,"
announced the sentry. "It's worked from a box a long way off. Maybe,
sir, you can climb up and tie this red handkerchief of mine over the
green light."
Terence took the handkerchief. He knew that the plan was a useless
one, since the result would be a semi-opaque gleam, as the red would
neutralize the green. But the red cloth might come in handy. The
matter was urgent, for the train was about due.
As he passed along the up-line his progress was checked by an
enormous boulder that, dislodged by the explosion, had fallen on the
permanent way and across one of the metals. Its weight was far beyond
his strength to move.
Skirting the obstruction the lieutenant broke into a run, keeping up
a hot pace till he reached the foot of the signal post. Already the
red disc had changed to green, showing that, to the signalman's
belief, the line was clear.
Terence knew that if the operating rod could be severed the signal
arm would, by reason of a weighted lever, rise to the "stop"
position. He tugged savagely at it, but without success. A spanner
might have saved the situation, but he was without such an article.
Suddenly an idea flashed through his mind. Ascending the swaying
ladder, he gained the platform just below the arm. Here he could
reach the discs with comparative ease.
"Wind's right direction," he muttered. "Can't blow the light out
very well, so here goes."
Unlacing and pulling off his boot, Terence made a determined
onslaught upon the thick green glass. It stoutly resisted several
blows, cracking at the sixth and shivering out of its frame at the
two next. As the lieutenant had foreseen the now open space was away
from the wind, and beyond a slight unsteadiness the lamp burned well.
Knotting the red handkerchief across the open disc, Terence descended
to take a more remote view of his handiwork. The red light shone
sufficiently bright to be observed at a considerable distance, but as
a matter of precaution he held his rifle ready to fire into the air
to attract the attention of the driver of the on-coming troop train.
"Here she comes," exclaimed Terence, as a dull rumble could be heard
in the distance. Presently a cloud of flame-tinged smoke announced
that the engine had rounded the curve.
Terence raised his rifle, but there was no need to fire. With a loud
grinding of brakes, accompanied by showers of sparks, the train drew
up, the engine coming to a standstill within eighty yards of the
signal post.
"What's up now, mate?" demanded the engine-driver, as, leaning over
the side of the "cab" he saw what he imagined to be one of the
soldiers whom he knew to be stationed on either side of the tunnel.
"Line blocked," replied Terence. "And what's more, two men killed
and another injured."
Leaving the driver to act for himself, Terence passed along the row
of stationary carriages, filled with troops, who, for the most part,
were singing uproariously. A few were looking out of the windows, but
the pulling up of the train had aroused but little curiosity. They
were already too used to being held up on sidings, even in the course
of a comparatively short journey.
At the first first-class carriage he came to, Terence clambered on to
the foot-board and opened the door. Within were a couple of majors, a
captain and a lieutenant enjoying a hand of cards. Briefly Aubyn told
them of what had occurred, and suggested that an investigation should
be made of the victims while the line was being cleared.
"Good idea, by Jove!" exclaimed the senior field-officer.
Alighting, he blew a whistle. The uproar ceased as if by magic, and
the men began to descend from the train. For the most part they
imagined that a Zeppelin had been sighted. They treated the
possibility almost with indifference, but their interest was quickly
excited when they learned that an attempt had been made to derail or
blow up the train.
Accompanied by several of the officers, and escorted by the driver
and the guard of the train and a score of soldiers, Terence led the
way. The obstruction had, fortunately, not fractured either the rail
or the chairs. By the aid of plenty of willing helpers, the rock was
levered back into a shallow ditch at the foot of the cutting. Then
there was just room for the train to pass, for the stone was nearly
ten feet in circumference.
"Here's the sentry," announced Terence, indicating the wounded
soldier.
A number of men carried the luckless Tommy into one of the carriages,
where he was promptly attended to by a captain of the R.A.M.C., while
it was decided to detail two of the men from the troop train to mount
guard until the proper reliefs arrived. Meanwhile, the wounded man
could be taken to the nearest station, close to which was a hospital
where he could be well looked after.
By this time there was light in plenty. Terence had no idea that a
train carried so many lamps.
The next task was to look for the bodies of the two miscreants. That
of the first was discovered in a ditch. He had been shot through the
forehead and through the body, either wound being sufficient to cause
death.
The explanation was simple: one of the wounds had been caused by the
bullet from the sentry's rifle. The victim in his death agonies had
convulsively gripped the trigger of his automatic pistol, and thus
had caused the fusillade Terence had seen and heard. When he fired,
the lieutenant's bullet had also struck the fellow, but by that time
he was already a corpse.
A further search revealed a considerable cavity blown into the side
of the embankment. The rocks around were scorched by the heat of the
explosion, which had horribly mangled the corpse of the second
conspirator, although strangely enough his features were hardly
injured.
A light was flashed upon his face. Terence recognized it instantly.
It was that of Major von Eckenhardt, master-spy and desperate
plotter.
The rascal had met with his deserts. After his escape from Edinburgh
Castle he had, according to his usual practice, laid low for a time.
Then, owing to the adroit manner in which the authorities had made
use of his secret wireless installation, the German Admiralty found
itself landed into a very awkward situation on more than one
occasion. It was not until von Eckenhardt contrived to send a secret
message to his employers, explaining the reason for his failure, that
the German authorities realized that they had been tricked. In reply
came a message savouring of a reprimand. Von Eckenhardt ought, it
said, to have taken greater precautions to prevent such
eventualities. Finally the message hinted pretty broadly that an act
of signal service to the Fatherland would alone atone for the
blunders that the spy had made.
Von Eckenhardt was desperate. He knew that the German Secret Service
had no mercy for its servants who had failed. Indeed, he wondered why
he had been given another chance. By the implied tone of the
communication he realized that he had to undertake a "forlorn hope."
If successful, then, perhaps, he might be reinstated into favour;
otherwise it would be preferable to die rather than face the penalty
for failure.
Hitherto, he had been more or less a director of the spy system. With
the exception, perhaps, of the part he played in attempting to wreck
the "Saraband," he had kept aloof from the actual espionage work.
Now, he decided he must employ his energies in a direct attack upon
the resources of the British Empire.
The news of forthcoming movements on a large scale of troops from the
North of England and Salisbury Plain suggested the great possibility
of a striking example of German "frightfulness." He knew that the
bridges and tunnels would be slenderly guarded, for the precautions
adopted by the British Government at the commencement of hostilities
had slackened.
Accordingly, accompanied by an accomplice who had acted the part of
servant at Tuilabrail Hall, he motored to a town within a few miles
of the tunnel he had selected for his nefarious designs. It was a
simple matter to bluff the proprietor of their hotel, while to excuse
their late hours, von Eckenhardt resolved to send a wire from a place
twenty miles distant, announcing the breakdown of the car. Then,
returning to within half a mile of the tunnel, the two miscreants
left the car in a field and walked stealthily towards the scene of
their proposed operations.
"Time I was out of this," thought Terence. He had no desire to be
dragged into a long-winded coroner's inquest and the subsequent
official inquiries. His evidence would not alter matters in the
faintest degree. Von Eckenhardt would be identified without his help,
and publicity he shrank from.
No one attempted to question the lieutenant as to his name. In the
excitement such a procedure never entered the heads of the military
authorities. So, without attracting the least attention, Terence
walked quietly away, scaled the embankment, crossed a couple of
ploughed fields and struck a roadway.
It was growing light as he entered the town. At a drinking fountain
he washed the dried blood from his face, and having brushed the mud
from his uniform, made his way to the railway station.
Here, exciting little attention, he obtained a ticket to York; had
breakfast at the station, and boarded the next express to Edinburgh.
For the time being, at least, he had evaded the consequences of
having performed another duty for King and country.