Scarcely ten minutes after the woman had begun her task Burton saw, from
the loophole at which the machine-gun had been placed, the head of the
enemy column appear on the track within effective rifle range. It
consisted of a half-troop of cavalry, and was moving with cautious
slowness. In another minute it came to a halt. Two officers in front
held a consultation. One of them peered through his glasses at the
silent tower. Their attitude suggested uncertainty. The lack of
signals from the tower must have apprised them that their friends were
not in possession of it; but the information conveyed by the men who had
escaped overnight was necessarily vague, and they were ignorant whether
the position was held by their foes, or had been abandoned.
At the window, but out of sight of the enemy, Burton and the two Serbs
watched them keenly. Enderby had been placed at the remote end of the
room, behind a barricade of timber, accoutrements, and rugs. In the last
few moments Burton had discussed with him whether it would be well to
open a parley with the enemy, and announce his intention of disputing
their passage.
"My advice is to the contrary," said Enderby. "Deeds, not words. A
shot will tell them all you wish them to know."
The consultation on the track came to an end, and the horsemen began to
move forward slowly. Two of them, one apparently an officer, rode a
little in advance of the rest. When they were still about half a mile
distant, Marco raised his rifle to his shoulder and fired. Apparently
he missed, for the two men instantly threw themselves from their horses
and took cover among the rocks at the side of the track. A bugle rang
out, and all down the column, as far as it was in sight, the troopers
dismounted, left their horses, and advanced up the track on foot by
short rushes from one patch of cover to another.
"What will they do?" Burton asked himself. He tried to put himself
mentally in their position. All the information they could have was
that the tower was in enemy hands. They could not know who its captors
were, or how many they numbered. No doubt they would suppose that the
patrol had fallen to a superior force, but they would infer that this
force was a comparatively small one, since it was already clear that no
attempt was to be made to dispute their passage on the track itself.
Their natural course would be to feel the strength of the garrison, and
perhaps to refrain from throwing themselves against a strong defensive
position until they had brought up guns to bombard it. The wild and
rugged nature of the ground made rapid movement difficult, and Burton
hoped that the inevitable delay would not only enable the British Army
to secure its retirement, but would also give time for the dispatch of a
light force to bring off himself and his party. The latter event he did
not count on; it might prove to be impracticable; in that case he could
only look forward to the ultimate capture or destruction of the tower.
It was his resolve to hold up the enemy till the last possible moment;
if surrender were then necessary to save Nuta and Captain Enderby, he
would at least have the satisfaction of duty well done.
Up to the present Marco's shot had been the only one fired. The two
Serbs, if left to themselves, would have aimed again and again at the
Bulgars, of whom they caught glimpses as they darted from rock to rock.
But Burton prevailed on them to withhold their fire.
"They don't know exactly how we are placed," he said to Marco, "and we
may as well keep them ignorant as long as possible. They are bound to
leave cover if they mean to attack us; then will be our chance."
The position gave incomparable advantages to the defence. Standing on a
spur of the hillside, the tower could be assailed only from the track;
its rear face overhung a precipitous cliff which not even a goat could
scale. For more than a hundred yards from the tower the track was
wholly devoid of cover; the declivity on the one side and the high
jagged ground on the other equally forbade an encircling movement.
Burton's hope grew high as he weighed the chances for and against him.
The enemy had crept up to within about three hundred yards of the tower.
The next fifty yards of the track were exposed, then there was a break
in the bank in which they could find cover among low boulders and
stunted bushes. It was at this point that they would first come in
sight of the wall surrounding the tower enclosure. Burton concluded
that as their mission was urgent, they would not wait the arrival of
their artillery, which no doubt they had sent for at the first alarm,
but would dash along the exposed portions of the track, shelter
themselves temporarily below the wall, and then endeavour to carry the
position with a rush. The gateway was blocked by the cart, but the wall
could easily be scaled, and the slender defences of the tower entrance
would yield in a few minutes. It was of prime importance, therefore,
that the enemy should be prevented from reaching the wall. The track was
wide enough for four or five men to move abreast. By means of the
machine-gun, Burton could mow the enemy down if they advanced in mass;
but having very little ammunition for it, he had decided to use it only
as a last resource. In the early stages of the impending action he must
depend on rifle fire, and he realised that, with no more than three
rifles, a great deal depended on the extent to which the enemy could be
intimidated. Personally he was at a disadvantage in respect of his
unfamiliarity with the Bulgarian rifle. Marco had explained to him the
sighting arrangements, which were adjusted to the metre scale; but he
recognised that his first shots would be experimental. At short range
he could hardly fail of success.
Some minutes passed; the enemy gave no sign of movement.
"Keep your eye upon them, while I go and see how the prisoners are
getting on with their work," said Burton to Marco.
He went down to the cellar, observing on the way that Nuta had completed
a large coil of the cotton rope. The Bulgar was staggering into the
tunnel with the last of the boxes of dynamite. Hildenheim was donning
his tunic, which he had stripped off for the sake of ease in working.
From the coolness and the unsoiled appearance of Major Schwartzkopf,
Burton inferred, with secret amusement, that that officer had not put
himself to any exertion.
"I zink I hear a shot, sir," said Hildenheim.
"I thought so too," rejoined Burton. "But we are not engaged with your
friends yet, and as I see that all the dynamite is removed, you are safe
here--for the present."
"So! I know ze Bulgar language. Ven our allies haf ze tower taken, I
vill haf much pleasure to--vat you call it?"
"Interpret for us? Thank you, captain. I am sure you are anxious to be
useful."
The dull reports of two rifle-shots recalled him. As he closed down the
trap-door, he heard Schwartzkopf guffaw. Springing up the stairs he
rushed to the window, where the Serbs were now firing steadily, seized
his rifle, and looked down the track. A small party of the enemy had
broken cover, and were rushing uphill in irregular formation. Several
had already fallen; one dropped to Burton's first shot; but the rest
gained the cover of the stunted bushes before mentioned.
"How many have got through?" asked Burton.
"About half-a-dozen," Marco replied.
"They haven't answered your fire?"
He had hardly spoken when a hail of bullets pattered on the stone walls.
Some had come from the advanced party in the bushes, some from their
comrades concealed farther down the track. One flew through the window,
and struck the wall a few feet above Enderby's head. The three men drew
back.
"It is clear they have discovered where we are firing from," said
Burton. "We had better give them the next shots from the roof. There
are loopholes in the parapet."
They climbed up the ladder, and, kneeling behind the parapet, peered
through the loopholes. For some minutes the enemy continued to fire at
the window without exposing themselves. Presently, under cover of their
shots, a second party, larger than the first, emerged from the rocks far
down the track, and ran up to join their fellows hidden among the
bushes. Instantly the three men opened fire; one after another the
Bulgars fell, but eight or nine reached shelter in safety. The enemy's
fire redoubled in violence; apparently they supposed that the defenders
were shooting both from the window and from the roof, for Enderby called
up that bullets were flying into the room, and at the same time
splinters of stone were struck from the parapet.
Suddenly the firing ceased. Burton, looking through his glasses, saw
reinforcements hurrying up along the track far below. Clearly the attack
was to be pressed, and the worst was yet to come. So far he was well
satisfied. The enemy had been held up for more than an hour; every
minute gained might be of priceless service to the British forces.
Every now and again the dull boom of artillery from the south told him
that his comrades were still fighting a rearguard action against heavy
odds. To prevent the enlargement of those odds was worth any sacrifice.
Burton realised that as yet he had had to deal with only a small
advanced guard. The fight would take on quite a different complexion
when the main body now pressing forward came into action. There was no
sign of irresolution in the enemy. Even though he should sweep the
track twice or thrice with the machine-gun, they would then discover
that his ammunition was expended, and three rifles would avail nothing
against the numbers who would pour upwards to the assault. It was time
to prepare to play his last card--to light the train which, after an
unknown interval, would explode the dynamite and render the track
impassable. The tower was doomed. If not carried by assault, it would
be shattered as soon as artillery was brought to bear on it. But even
though it were destroyed, and all in it, the destruction of the track
would delay the enemy for many hours, and his object would be gained.
He inferred, and rightly, as it proved, that the lull would continue
until the enemy had come up in sufficient strength to burst through at
all costs. But there was no time to spare, especially as so much
uncertainty attended the action of the mine. Leaving the two Serbs to
keep watch, Burton went below. Nuta was still knotting the lengths of
cloth, but he saw at a glance that the coil she had completed would
suffice. He made her understand by signs that she was to follow him to
the cellar, carrying the revolver.
The eager looks with which the prisoners met him bespoke their
confidence that he had come to beg their intercession with victorious
Bulgarians. They were immediately undeceived.
"I am going to fire the dynamite," he said. "This place will no longer
be safe for you. You must quit the tower. Follow my instructions to
the letter. When you leave the entrance, you will cross the enclosure
to the wall on the south side, climb it, and go as far along the track
southward as you please. If you attempt to move in the opposite
direction you will instantly be shot. That is quite clear?"
Hildenheim's looks had grown blacker and blacker as Burton spoke.
"It is a trick!" he burst out in a voice hoarse with rage. "It is
against ze law of nations. Zere shall be reprisals. You make var
prisoners vork to blow up zeir allies; you----"
"Nothing of the sort," Burton interrupted sharply. "You removed the
dynamite for your own safety; you are at liberty to bring it back, and
take the consequences. You must decide at once."
This reduced the German to silence.
"Was giebt es?" asked Schwartzkopf, evidently puzzled by the captain's
agitation.
When Hildenheim had explained, the major came to a decision with great
alacrity. It would be absurd to reject the chance of escaping with a
whole skin. There was a short excited colloquy between the two Germans.
Then Hildenheim sullenly announced their acquiescence, and they followed
Burton and the woman up the stairs. When a passage had been opened in
the entrance, the three prisoners made to issue together.
"Not so fast--one at a time, if you please," said Burton, anxious not to
leave the tower himself. "The major first; turn to the right, that's
your way. The woman will escort you."
At another time he might have been amused at the sight of the German
hastening towards the wall with an effort to maintain his dignity, Nuta
following with pointed revolver a couple of yards behind. But the
situation was too tense for amusement. He was on thorns; at any moment
warning shots might recall him to his post, and the mine had still to be
completed. The instant the Bulgar, last of the three, reached the wall,
Burton hurried into the cellar. He laid the cotton train on the floor
of the tunnel, kindling its nearer end. At the farther end he upturned
the open box of dynamite, placed a few cartridges at the extremity of
the train, and packed the remaining boxes closely one upon another, so
that the space between the floor and the roof was completely blocked.
Then with feverish haste he scraped up loose earth from the floor, and
dug stones out of the wall with his knife, and heaped them up against
the boxes, so as to minimise the effect of the explosion towards the
cellar. On his return he saw that the cotton appeared to be burning
satisfactorily, and regained the roof of the tower after an absence of
little more than twenty minutes.
The situation had apparently not changed. All was quiet. None of the
enemy in the vicinity of the tower were in sight, but the columns were
steadily rolling up the track in the far distance. A little later,
however, there was a sudden rush from behind the rocks, accompanied by a
hot fusillade. Bulgarian infantry swarmed up the track, and though many
of them fell to the three rifles, many more got through, stumbling over
the bodies of the fallen, and joined their comrades in the shelter of
the bushes. Nuta had come up, and as the rifles became hot, she
replaced them with fresh weapons.
The enemy advanced in an unending stream for five or six minutes. The
crackle of rifle shots mingled with shouts and screams. Then at the
blast of a whistle all movement ceased.
Burton calculated that at least sixty men had run the gauntlet and were
now waiting among the bushes. Only about a hundred yards of open track
separated them from the wall of the enclosure. To check the coming dash
with three rifles would be impossible. Would the explosion in the
tunnel happen in time? He dared not go below again to see how the train
was burning, nor could any one else be spared. Suppose the mine failed?
The rush must be checked somehow; nothing but the machine-gun would
avail.
Leaving the Serbs on the roof, Burton went down into the room, and
placed himself at the gun.
He had not long to wait. A whistle sounded shrilly. The men dashed
from the cover of the bushes and poured up towards the tower, shouting
and cheering. Behind them their comrades opened fire from the rocks.
Burton held his hand for a few seconds. Then, when the foremost rank
had covered about half the distance, the machine-gun rapped out a hail
of bullets. In a few seconds the track was swept clear as by an
invisible scythe.
Silence fell again. It was clear that the enemy had not reckoned with a
machine-gun, for though, taking advantage of the charge, another body of
men had rushed up to the bushes from the rear, they made no attempt to
advance farther.
Minute by minute passed. Except for occasional sniping, the enemy took
no action. But the lull seemed ominous, and Burton remained keenly on
guard, keeping a look-out from behind the shield of the machine-gun.
"I don't like it," he said to Enderby once. "There isn't much doubt that
they have sent word to their gunners, and we shall soon have shells
hurtling upon us. There may be just time to carry you down and put you
in safety beyond the tower."
"Nonsense!" Enderby returned. "It makes me sick to be idling here. I
won't go and keep your Germans company. My arms are sound enough, and,
hang it all! I won't stand this any longer. Lift me out, and give me a
rifle."
"No, no! Anything rather than that. At this window you'd be potted to a
certainty. Perhaps it's better as it is, for if you were outside, and
the rest of us were smashed, you couldn't get away."
"And I'd rather peg out than fall a prisoner to those German-led
Bulgars. Don't worry, old chap!"
"That wretched mine must have failed," said Burton, presently. "Nuta
must go and relight the train."
But just as he was rising to call her, he noticed something far down the
track that caused him to drop back again.
"They're smuggling a machine-gun into position!" he cried.
He had caught a glimpse of the barrel projecting over a ledge of rock.
With instant decision he trained his own gun upon it, and before it
could open fire, he pumped out a hail of lead that struck it from its
position, and the men serving it, in spite of their shield, were killed
or disabled either by direct shots, ricochets, or splinters.
"One belt empty!" he said, as he replaced it with a full one. "By
George! Now we're in for it!"
He had heard the characteristic scream of a shell. Immediately
afterwards there was a terrific explosion, and he saw a tall column of
smoke, stones, and dust shoot into the air from the rocks not two
hundred yards away. In another half-minute another shell exploded, a
little nearer.
"They must be 'phoning the range," he said. "Look here, Enderby, I must
get you out of it. I can't leave the machine-gun now, but the Serbs
must carry you away. Marco Kralevich!" he shouted.
The old man hurried down.
"They'll have the range in a few minutes," said Burton. "I want you and
your friend to carry Captain Enderby out along the track yonder, towards
where the prisoners are. Take your daughter, too. When you come back,
go down into the cellar and relight the train; it must have gone out.
They will smash the tower; the only chance of holding them up is to
explode the mine. Make haste, for Heaven's sake!"
Marco summoned Nuta and Milosh from the roof. They lifted Enderby, and
were half-way down the stairs with him when the Bulgarian gunners made
their first hit. A shell carried away a corner of the parapet. The
tower shook under the explosion, and the falling masonry plunged into
the enclosure, raising a dense cloud of dust. Burton trembled for the
safety of his friends, but his thoughts were taken from them by a
renewed movement among the enemy. Immediately after the crash, the men
concealed in the bushes sprang out, and dashed forward with a cheer.
They would have been wiser to wait. Burton saw them indistinctly
through the dust, but he had the range to a yard, and again they melted
away under his withering fire.
Shells were now bursting around the tower. There was another crash
above; fragments of stone fell into the room, striking Burton in many
places. It was a moment of racking anxiety. He dared not leave the gun
until the track had been destroyed, yet the tower might crumple down
upon him. His ammunition was running short--would Marco get back in
time? Even if he relit the train, would the flame reach the explosives?
And at that crisis he nerved himself for what must be regarded as a
supreme act of self-sacrifice. If all else failed, at the last moment
he must go himself into the cellar, and fire into the charge.
Deafened by the explosions that now recurred every few seconds,
smothered in dust, struck by fragments of stone, half choked by fumes,
he still held his place at the window. The enemy had learnt a lesson.
They kept out of sight. Before long the guns would have done their
work, and when the tower was in ruins the way would be clear.
"They won't charge again till we're smashed," he thought. "Now for it!"
Taking his rifle, he hurried down the stairs. At the trap-door he
halted a moment. He knew the risk he was about to run. His work in the
tunnel had been so hurried that the backward force of the explosion
could not be wholly checked. He was taking his life in his hands; but
it was the last hope. He gathered himself together. His foot was on the
first step when he was brought to a halt by a rifle shot below. The
next instant he was hurled back by a terrific concussion, and fell, an
immense noise dinning in his ears. For a moment he lay dazed.
"Marco must have done it!" he said to himself as he staggered to his
feet.
Down into the cellar he sprang, gasping in the noisome fumes. His
electric torch, still gleaming, lay on the floor. Near the mouth of the
tunnel he saw the heroic old Serb prostrate. He rushed to him, stooped
over him. Was he yet alive? Burton could not tell. Exerting almost
superhuman strength he managed to hoist the big man to his back, and
staggered with him across the cellar, up the steps, and across the
floor. Almost broken down under the weight of his burden, he was just
reaching the entrance when there was an appalling crash. The tower
tottered and collapsed, and the two men fell together.
[Illustration: A PERILOUS MOMENT]
VII
When Burton came to himself, it was to find an officer in khaki, with
the red cross of the R.A.M.C. on his sleeve, bending over him.
"That's all right!" said a cheery voice. "He'll do now!"
"Where am I? Where's Marco?" Burton asked faintly.
"The old Serb? Don't worry about him. He has concussion, but he's a
tough old boy, and we'll pull him through."
"And the Bulgars?"
"Toiling like niggers to make a new track a mile from here. It's all
right. Take this morphine tablet. You shall hear all you want to know,
twenty-four hours from now. Rather hard luck to be knocked out twice in
one day, I must say."
Young Marco, after long wandering and losing his way several times, had
lighted on a part of the British rearguard and delivered his note, which
passed from a subaltern through his company commander and colonel until
it came to the hands of the brigadier. An examination of the map decided
that officer to dispatch a regiment of light cavalry to the tower. They
reached it some ten minutes after it fell, having heard the outlines of
the story from Captain Enderby, whom they met a few hundred yards away,
keeping an eye on the three prisoners, as he said with a smile. Milosh
and Nuta, who were returning to the tower when the explosion occurred,
had narrowly escaped burial in the ruins. Rushing forward through the
smoke and dust, they had found the two men unconscious but alive,
protected by the only half-destroyed arch of the entrance.
The shelling had ceased with the fall of the tower; the track had been
rendered utterly impassable by the explosion of the mine; and before the
enemy were aware of the presence of the British cavalry, and their guns
again came into play, the regiment had withdrawn with Burton, his party
and the prisoners, and were well on their way to the British lines.
The value of the defence of the tower was handsomely acknowledged by the
brigadier. It had saved his rearguard. The Serbs were compensated for
the loss of their belongings in the abandoned cart, and young Marco,
besides presents given him by the British officers, found himself the
happy possessor of innumerable souvenirs from the men. Old Marco, who
soon recovered, received special commendation and reward for his heroism
in firing the mine at the risk of his life. As for Burton, no one was
more surprised than he when he learnt that his name had been sent in for
the V.C.
[Illustration: Chapter V Heading]
THE MISSING PLATOON
I
Burton rode at an easy jog trot, smoking a cigarette. He had a day off,
and by way of recreation had borrowed a horse to visit the battery for
which he had done a good deal of "spotting," but which he had not yet
seen. His only communication with it had been by wireless from the air.
It was a fine spring afternoon--rather ominously fine, he thought, for
the sunlight had that liquid brightness which often preludes dirty
weather. Dust flew in clouds from the white road before the gusty wind.
From somewhere ahead came the booming of guns, and now and then he saw
bursts of smoke above the trenches a few miles away.
He came to a solitary house at the roadside. It was partly demolished;
but in the doorway, flanked by a solid wall of sandbags, a subaltern was
standing. Burton reined up.
"Officers' quarters of No. 6?" he asked laconically.
"The same," was the reply.
"My name's Burton: thought I'd come over and have a look at you."
"You're the chap, are you? Well, I'll take you round. They're all in
the gun-pits, waiting orders. Take your horse round to the back: we get
pip-squeaks here occasionally."