pressed it into Burton's hand. He bade them good-bye.
"Adieu, monsieur!" said old Pierre, as Burton shook hands with him.
"The wound--it is nothing. Your good doctor has stitched it up. I was
not born to be killed by a Bosche. Ah, ca! It was a good trick,
monsieur, n'est-ce pas?"
[Illustration: Chapter III Heading]
BORROWED PLUMES
I
The tramp steamer _Elpinike_, bound from the Peiraeus to the island of
Tenedos with supplies for the Allied forces, was thrashing its way
northwards through the blue waters of the AEgean Sea. It was a warm,
sunny day; the Levantine crew lolled on the bulwarks, and a mixed group
of passengers was gathered on the after-deck. Three or four French
officers, smoking cigarettes, basked on deck-chairs; several men, whose
nationality it were hard to determine, leant in picturesque attitudes
against the wall of the deck-house; and a couple of Englishmen, wearing
overalls and low cloth caps, and with blackened briar pipes between
their lips, sat side by side on the third of the steps leading to the
bridge. They eyed with faint amusement the centre of the group, a very
fat man sucking a very fat cigar, who lay back in his creaking
deck-chair and discoursed at large.
Mr. Achilles Christopoulos, as he had announced himself to his
fellow-passengers, was the agent of the charterers of the vessel. He
was, he assured them, a very busy man. He had broad, bulging, swarthy
cheeks, a multiple chin, and a heavier moustache than is common among
his compatriots; for Mr. Christopoulos was, by his own account, a Greek
of Greeks. His English was fluent, with little oddities of accent and
pronunciation; and after every few words he drew deep, audible gasps for
breath.
"Yes, zhentlemen," said Mr. Christopoulos, waving his cigar towards the
Englishmen and Frenchmen, "my country will remain neutral. Of war we
have had enough; it is time we had a rest. And tell me, why should we
pull your chestnuts out of ze fire? Tell me zat? What did you do to
help us against ze Turks twenty years ago? Nozink. And two years ago?
Nozink. We are nozink to you. We wait; zat is our policy; and when ze
time comes, why, zen we show ze world we do not forget our history."
"Ah, bah!" exclaimed one of the Frenchmen, flinging a half-smoked
cigarette into the sea. "You are egoist, monsieur. Your history--vat?
I zink of Pericles; I zink of your patriots since a hundred years. Ah!
zat vas not zeir policy."
"But ze time has changed, monsieur. Pericles, he is dead. Ze German
Emperor, he is alive."
"Conspuez-le!" said the Frenchman.
Mr. Christopoulos smiled.
"Consider with calmness, zhentlemen," he said, as though appealing from
the excitable Frenchmen to the more stolid English. "Ze Turk, with ze
German Emperor at ze back, is to-day a new man. Ze King of ze Hellenes
knows ze power of Germany. He runs no risks. We have men who are
ignorant, who do not zink. Zey make a fuss, cry for war; ze king knows
it is foolish, and holds tight ze reins. Greece owes much to Germany,
and shall owe more."
The French officers burst into angry declamation. The Englishmen, who
had taken no part in the conversation, listened for a few minutes
longer, then got up and strolled along the deck.
"Talks too much, Teddy," said one of them.
"Let 'em talk," replied the other.
Edward Burton, of the Flying Corps, after several months' exhausting
service in France, had been invalided home. On reporting himself at
headquarters after his convalescence, he was ordered to the Dardanelles.
Taking a P. and O. steamer for Alexandria, he had met on board an old
friend, Dick Hunter, who had recently come into the corps from a line
regiment, as observer. The supply ship in which they took passage at
Alexandria had put into Athens with a broken shaft, and to save time
they had joined the _Elpinike_ at the moment of her leaving port.
The _Elpinike_ was very old, very dirty, very smelly, and very slow,
plodding along at seven or eight knots. The two airmen, accustomed to
easy and rapid flights, were thoroughly weary of the voyage by the time
the vessel reached harbour. They found themselves there in the midst of
intense activity, reminding Burton of the bustle and orderly confusion
at the bases in France. They reported themselves at headquarters, only
to learn that, pending the arrival of new machines from England, there
was no seaplane ready for them, and they had to resign themselves to
kicking their heels for a time. There was, however, plenty to interest
them. Troops--British, French, and Colonial--were continually arriving
from Egypt and departing on transports for the Dardanelles. Warships
came and went; airmen were present who had reconnoitred for the fleet in
the attacks on the forts, and to discover the strength of the Turks on
both sides of the strait. These retailed their experiences for the
benefit of their comrades newly arrived, who grew more and more eager to
set to work.
Now and then they ran up against Mr. Christopoulos, who was quartered
near them, and found it a little difficult to shake off that garrulous
man of business. He showed a disposition, they thought, to presume on
the acquaintance made during the voyage from the Peiraeus. As a rule
they gave only perfunctory acknowledgments of his greetings; sometimes
they were unable to escape him.
"You are still idle, zhentlemen?" he said one day. "Zere is a shortage
of aircraft, I hear. How provoking!"
"It gives us time to get acclimatised," said Burton.
"Zat is true. It is very fine air. You like ze wine of ze country? It
is very fine. You know, of course, zat here came ze fleet from my
country for ze siege of Troy. Ah! we Greeks were ten years taking Troy,
and I zink you will be ten years taking Constantinople."
"Let's hope not," said Burton. "Your ancestors hadn't aeroplanes, you
see. Our planes will be even more useful than the Wooden Horse."
"Perhaps. And when do you expect to get to work?"
"All in good time."
"You will go to Enos, perhaps?"
"We shall go wherever we are sent. You'll go back to Athens in the
_Elpinike_ to-morrow, I suppose?"
"No. My business keeps me here. I am a very busy man."
He went on to describe some of his activities, and the Englishmen,
breaking away at last, made but a cool response to his genial "Au
revoir, zhentlemen."
It was ten days before their seaplane arrived. The engine required very
little tuning up. They made a few trial trips, to accustom themselves
to the atmospheric conditions of the AEgean Sea, and looked forward to
an early call to action.
On returning to their quarters one night, they were surprised to see a
British sentry at the door of the house where Mr. Christopoulos lodged.
"What's up?" asked Hunter, stopping.
"Got orders to guard this house, sir," replied the man.
"What for?"
"A party of us was sent to arrest the chap that lives here, sir--the fat
Greek Christopoulos. Don't know what he's been doing; swindling
somebody, perhaps."
"Did you get him?"
"No, sir. He can't be found."
They passed on, and, after changing, went to the restaurant for their
evening meal. There they learnt that Mr. Christopoulos was suspected of
spying. It appeared that he must have got wind of the order for his
arrest, and had decamped; but his disappearance was a mystery, for no
vessel had left the island since the morning, with the exception of a
small country sailing-boat. It was conjectured that he had left on one
of the small craft engaged in bringing provisions to the base; but
though several of these had been overhauled at sea by fast despatch
boats, no trace of the fugitive was discovered.
Two days later the airmen were summoned to headquarters.
"Your machine is in order?" asked the staff-officer.
"Yes, sir--ready for anything," Burton replied.
"Then you'll ship on board the ----." He named a cruiser lying in the
harbour. "There are rumours of a large Turkish concentration at Keshan.
You'll find out if they are true. The cruiser will take you up to the
Gulf of Saros, and you will start your flight from the neighbourhood of
the coast somewhere south of Enos. The cruiser will await your return."
They hurried down to the harbour. The seaplane was slung on board the
cruiser, which steamed away northward, through the huge armada of
British and French war-vessels, transports, and supply ships that
thronged the sea. It was an open secret that the preparations for a
combined attack by land and sea were far advanced. They heard the
distant boom of heavy guns, which grew louder and more continuous as
they neared the mouth of the strait. When they opened up the headland
of Suvla Burun the course was altered a few points to the east, and
another hour's steaming across the Gulf of Saros found them some five
miles from the coast, off Kurukli. Here the cruiser hove-to, and the
seaplane was slung out.
The captain had already given the airmen their bearings. North-west lay
Enos and the river Maritza, with the Bulgarian port of Dedeagatch
beyond. Keshan, their objective, was to the north-east, about thirty
miles distant from the coast.
"I will cruise about for four or five hours," said the captain, "keeping
well out to sea, out of range of the batteries in the Bulair lines
yonder." He pointed due east to the neck of the Gallipoli peninsula.
"You have plenty of petrol?"
"Enough for the job," replied Burton.
"Well, good luck to you. 'Ware shrapnel."
They slipped over the side into their places. Burton started the
engine, and, after skimming the surface for a few moments, the seaplane
rose like a bird and soared away, ever higher, towards the coast
northward.
II
The sky was clear, the air calm--an ideal day for airmen. In a few
minutes they passed over the rocky and precipitous line of the coast and
pursued their flight inland. Hunter, closely scanning the country
beneath through his glasses, presently exclaimed, "A gun!" and shortly
afterwards, "A battery!" The guns were cleverly concealed from
observation from the sea, behind a cliff, marked by a clump of the dense
brushwood that flourishes on the shores of the Gulf of Saros. Hunter
expected a shot or two from the gunners, but they made no sign, probably
unwilling to reveal their position to the warships in the bay. They
were saving their shot for more serious work than firing at seaplanes.
Northward they saw a river flowing east and west. Passing over a
village--Kiskapan, according to the map--they crossed the river almost
at right angles with its course, and beyond a range of low hills
discovered their objective about five miles away. They had travelled
some thirty-five miles by dead reckoning, which corresponded with the
estimated distance from the cruiser.
Before they obtained a full view of Keshan itself they perceived
evidences of a considerable concentration of troops. At several points
around the town there were extensive encampments. Clouds of dust to the
north, east, and north-east betrayed the movements of troops or convoys.
And when they were still about two miles from the town they heard the
familiar rattle of machine-guns and the long crackle of rifle fire. But
they were too high up to feel any anxiety, and while Burton wheeled
round and round in an extensive circle, Hunter busily plotted out on his
map the positions of the camps, and made notes of the directions of the
movements, the estimated number of the battalions, and the nature of
their arms.
After a while Burton began gradually to drop, in order to give Hunter a
chance of recognising gun emplacements. At about two thousand feet the
enemy opened fire. White and creamy puffs of shrapnel floated and spread
in the air. A shell burst some distance beneath them, another above
them, and soon the machine was cleaving its way through a thin cloud of
pungent smoke. It appeared that at least six guns were at work.
"Better get out of this," shouted Hunter. "I've got about enough
information."
"We'll go a little farther north," replied Burton, "to see if any
reinforcements are coming up towards Keshan."
"All right, but go a bit higher; I heard two or three smacks on the
planes just now."
Rising a little higher, Burton swept round to the north. In a minute or
two Hunter was able to see that the hill track from Rodosto was choked
with transport of all kinds. Right and left, every possible route from
Constantinople and Adrianople was equally congested. It was clear that
a vast army was being concentrated within striking distance of
Gallipoli, and on the flank of any force moving eastward from Enos or
any other point of disembarkation.
Burton then headed west towards the Maritza, intending to return by way
of Enos and discover, if possible, what force the Turks had available
for the defence of that place. They were passing somewhat to the north
of Keshan, to keep out of the way of the batteries, when Hunter suddenly
caught sight of an object like a large bird low down in the sky on their
left hand. A few moments' scrutiny through his glasses confirmed the
suspicions which had seized him on the instant.
"An aviatik, coming our way," he called.
"Won't catch us," responded Burton with a smile.
"Stay and fight it?"
"It's tempting, but we mustn't. It won't do to run risks when our job's
to collect information."
Hunter acquiesced with a sigh. Burton shifted his course a point or two
to the west, so as to run nearly parallel with the enemy's aeroplane.
A moment or two later he gave a start of alarm.
"What's the matter?" asked Hunter.
"Afraid there's a leak. The petrol gauge is falling faster than it
ought. They must have knocked a hole in the tank. See if you can find
it."
Hunter twisted in his seat, bent over, and began to examine the tank.
"Can't find any leak," he said presently. "If there's one, it's out of
reach. How's the gauge?"
"At this rate we shall be done in another ten minutes."
"Whew! How much farther to go?"
"At least twenty miles, perhaps more. I wish we had come straight.
There's absolutely no chance of getting back before the petrol gives
out. Where's the enemy?"
"Still on our port side, going strong. It looks as if she means to
chase us, thinking we're running away. We shall have to fight now,
shan't we?"
"Yes. We're bound to come down in a few minutes, and if we don't tackle
her at once it's all up with us. How far is she off?"
"About a couple of miles, I think, and about the same height. Her
course is between us and Enos, worse luck!"
"Wish we had a machine-gun! I'll come round; take a shot when we're
within range, and for goodness' sake cripple her."
He brought the seaplane round in an easy curve, at the same time
climbing to get above the enemy. His eye was all the time on the
rapidly falling gauge. The aviatik held on its course for a little,
then wheeled to the south-west, as if to cut the seaplane off. It was
clear that the enemy airmen had no wish to avoid a fight.
Burton's wheeling movement had now made his course almost due east, so
that the two machines were rushing obliquely towards each other at the
rate of about a hundred miles an hour. When they crossed, Burton was
slightly ahead of the enemy, and, to his surprise, somewhat lower. At
almost the same moment Hunter and the enemy's observer opened fire with
their rifles, but each was handicapped by the fact that he was firing
from right to left, and no damage seemed to have been done on either
side. As soon as Burton had passed the enemy, he banked his machine and
wheeled to the left, climbing as rapidly as possible to make good the
deficiency in height. The aviatik also made a spiral movement to the
left, with the result that in a few seconds the machines were once more
converging on each other. This time, however, Burton was slightly to
the rear of the enemy, and when their tracks crossed, he shot up behind
it on its left. The aviatik, a second or two too late, made a desperate
effort to edge away eastward, but the movement only brought the two
planes closer together.
"We can't stick it another minute," gasped Burton.
Hunter did not reply. He had dropped his rifle and seized his automatic
pistol. The machines were at point-blank range. Hunter fired. The
enemy's observer screwed himself round in his seat to reply. Aiming at
the pilot, Hunter sent a stream of bullets from his pistol. The pilot
fell forward. For a moment the aeroplane rocked and seemed on the point
of capsizing. Then the observer seized the controls, and, with a
recklessness that bespoke inexperience or want of skill, began a
perilously steep volplane.
[Illustration: An aerial somersault]
Hunter looked down. The machine was rapidly dropping towards the edge
of the lake a little to the east of the Maritza River. Suddenly, while
yet some distance from the ground, the aviatik's descent was averted,
possibly by an air pocket over the lake. For a moment it seemed poised
without motion, then it turned a somersault. The observer fell out, and
dropped into the lake at the same instant as the machine crashed on to
the bank.
Meanwhile Burton had circled round. His tank was nearly empty. He must
either come down or fall down. There was no sign of life in the wrecked
aeroplane; the observer had disappeared in the water; no one was in
sight. Swinging round again Burton adjusted his elevator so as to
descend on the lake, and in a few seconds the seaplane was resting on
the surface within thirty yards of the spot where the aviatik lay, a
mangled heap, on the bank.
III
"We can wade ashore," said Burton. "I can see the bottom."
"Hadn't we better mend the leak?" Hunter suggested.
"But I want to see if the German has any spare petrol. We've lost a
lot."
They waded through a foot or two of water, and examined the wreck. One
of the wings was crumpled up; otherwise the machine had suffered little
injury. The pilot, a fair-haired German of Saxon type, was dead. There
was plenty of petrol in the tank, and Hunter drew this off into a tin
can while Burton returned to the seaplane, pulled it ashore, and set
about discovering the leak. It turned out to be a long thin crack on
the underside of the tank.
"How on earth are we to mend this?" said Burton, looking at it ruefully.
"Why not stuff it up with mud?" said Hunter. "This stuff at the edge of
the lake seems to be clayey, and it will harden in no time."
"Good! It may last for the few miles we have still to cover. Just keep
a lookout while I work at it."
Hunter went up the bank. A rough bridle-track skirted the lake and
disappeared in a plantation that came down to within about a hundred
yards of the water. To the south the view was shut in by a wooded
knoll. There was neither man nor house in sight.
Burton had just kneaded some clay for stopping up the crack when they
heard shouts in the distance, apparently from a southward direction. He
ran up and joined Hunter, and they went together to the knoll some
hundred and twenty yards away, from which they expected to get a view of
the southern shore and perhaps of the men from whom the cries came.
They were careful to keep under cover, and, on arriving at the knoll,
lay flat on the ground. As they had hoped, they could now see a large
portion of the lake which had previously been hidden from them, and
caught glimpses, on the western side, of the bridle-track here and there
among the trees. At intervals it disappeared behind slight hillocks or
denser stretches of the plantation.
For a minute or two they saw no human beings. The sounds had ceased.
But presently, about a third of a mile away to the south, they caught
sight of a party of half a dozen horsemen searching the shore of the
lake, now trotting into the wood, now riding at the edge of the water,
now cantering along the bridle-track in the direction of the Englishmen.
"Turks!" murmured Burton.
"They must have seen the machines fall," said Hunter. "This is awkward,
Teddy."
"It is, by Jove! and there are more of them. Look at that lot behind
there. They'll be here in three or four minutes--no time to plaster the
crack and get away."
"We had better scuttle our plane and dive into the woods. There's just
a chance of our getting across the Maritza into Bulgaria."
"That means internment. Besides, it would be simply rotten to destroy
the machine if we can help it. Perhaps there's some other way. In any
case we must get back. Put on a sprint."
They raced back to the spot where they had landed, the knoll concealing
them from the Turkish search-party. The sight of the body of the German
pilot suggested an idea to Burton.
"Look here, we must trick them," he said rapidly. "There's a bare
chance of saving our machine, and I doubt whether we've time enough even
to destroy it. For the next quarter of an hour I'm a German, and you're
my English prisoner. We are done if there's a German among them, but
that's our chance."
Removing his own cap, he replaced it with that of the German pilot,
borrowing at the same time one or two small articles of his equipment.
Then he bound Hunter's hands and feet.
"Slip-knots, old man," he said. "You can free yourself in a jiffy. But
don't do it too soon. Just in time! I hear them coming. Here goes!"
He uttered a loud shout. In a few moments the horsemen appeared on the
crest of the knoll. Burton waved his left hand, with his right holding
a pistol pointed at Hunter's head. The horsemen, led by an elderly
Turkish officer in grey uniform and fez, galloped down towards them.
While the officer was still several paces distant, Burton saluted and
addressed him.
"Sprechen Sie Deutsch, mein Herr?"
No one would have guessed with what anxious trepidation he awaited the
answer. He had used almost all the German he knew. His heart leapt when
the Turk shook his head.
"Vous parlez Francais, monsieur?" said Burton.
"Oui, certainement. Qu'est-ce que c'est que ca?"
"You have come in good time, monsieur le capitaine," said Burton in
French. "I regret that I do not speak Turkish, and that our conversation
must proceed in a language which, no doubt, you cordially detest. Our
good Kaiser will soon forbid the use of it in Europe; German and Turkish
are the languages of the future. Meanwhile! ... You see, monsieur le
capitaine, there has been a duel in the air. My pilot was, unhappily,
shot by the enemy. We both had to descend; the enemy, no doubt, had
difficulties with his engine. No doubt he expected to find both the
pilot and myself dead or disabled. But a true German, like a true Turk,
is a hard man to kill. Single-handed I attacked the enemy as they
landed. Imagine their consternation and fear! One of them, using the
long legs which serve the cowardly English so well, fled into the wood.
The other lies here."
The Turkish captain bent over his saddle to inspect the captured
Englishman. For his benefit Hunter assumed an expression of sullen
ferocity.
[Illustration: "He looks a terrible fellow"]
"It was well done," said the Turk in French. "He looks a terrible
fellow. I make you my compliments, monsieur. It was a brave deed to
attack two men single-handed."
"Oh, that's nothing to us Germans," said Burton airily. "We never think
of odds. We are like that; the greater the adverse odds, the better
pleased we are."
"That is indeed the characteristic of your noble nation," said the Turk
politely.
"Still, it is as well to reduce the odds when we can," Burton went on.
"Half the enemy's force has escaped. Could you spare a few men,
monsieur le capitaine, to scour the woods?"
"Certainly, though I have little time to spare. I am engaged, you will
be glad to know, in escorting a fellow-countryman of yours, monsieur--a
German in the secret service, who has just landed at Enos--with
important information for headquarters at Keshan."
He broke off to give his troopers orders to hunt about in the woods for
the escaped English airman. They were to return, even if unsuccessful,
at the sound of his whistle. Meanwhile, Burton and Hunter had exchanged
uneasy glances. The German could not be far away. No doubt he was
coming up with other members of the escort. The sight of the falling
aeroplanes had drawn the officer in advance.
The troopers galloped off. The officer turned once more towards Burton,
whose expression of countenance gave no sign of the agitation within.
"It will be interesting to meet a fellow-countryman in this lonely
spot," he said calmly. "May I offer you a cigarette, monsieur?"