of the front were thrown into agitation by a sudden burst of unusually
violent gun-fire from the British artillery. Such a bombardment was
commonly preliminary to an infantry attack, and the German soldier,
though brave enough, is no longer quite easy in mind at the prospect of
meeting British "Tommies." The few men in the front trenches cowered on
the ground or in their dug-outs; the communication and support trenches
filled up; and Verey lights illuminated the No Man's Land across which
they expected the enemy to swarm when the bombardment ceased.
The deafening din and crash stopped as suddenly as it had begun. The
Germans rushed into their front trenches. But there was no sign of
movement on the now brightly lit space. There was no rifle fire, no
bombs, no sound of cheering. All was quiet. They were puzzled. Was
the attack postponed? The shelling had not lasted long enough to do very
much damage. Perhaps it was intended to frighten them. None would
admit that, if such were the object, it had succeeded. For a time they
stood to arms, watchful, suspicious, uneasy. But the bombardment was
not resumed. Nothing showed above the British parapets. They loosed
off a few shots to relieve their feelings; then settled down to the
weary night-work of the trenches.
At the moment when this brief bombardment opened, Burton made his ascent
from the aerodrome behind the British lines. At the moment when it
ceased he was circling behind the German lines, some 2000 feet in the
air, vainly endeavouring to pick up the pre-arranged signal-lights in
the hollow. His flight had been carefully timed with the bombardment;
he ought to have landed under cover of the noise; but the best
arrangements are apt to be nullified by the unforeseen. A mist
blanketed the ground, dense enough to obscure completely any lights of
less than electric intensity.
This was baffling. It was also alarming. The purring of the engine,
hitherto smothered by the continuous gun-fire, must now be distinctly
audible below. One searchlight had already begun to play; before long
the aeroplane would be in the full glare of their intersecting rays.
What should he do? To go back meant the breakdown of the whole scheme;
the opportunity might not recur. Yet to land haphazard would be to court
disaster; to land at all might throw him into the hands of patrols sent
out to capture him.
While he was thus uneasily turning over the problem, his eyes, strained
earthward, suddenly discovered three tiny points of light arranged
triangularly. They as suddenly disappeared; a puff of wind had for the
moment broken the mist, which had then rolled back and obscured them.
But the glimpse was enough to decide him. He dropped a thousand feet,
wheeling, so far as he could judge by guesswork, around the spot at
which he had seen the lights. Once more he caught sight of them; they
were brighter. Another searchlight was sweeping the sky: it was neck or
nothing now. Keeping the lights in view, he dived steeply, coming to
earth with a sharp jolt, within twenty paces of the apex of the
triangle. Before the machine had lost its impetus, however, it crashed
against the stump of a tree at the edge of the hollow. Burton was
thrown forward in his seat; fortunately the strap prevented him from
being hurled out. Recovering from the shock, he loosened the strap,
climbed down, glanced around, and seeing no one, proceeded to examine
the forward part of the machine. He gave a gasp of dismay. The
propeller was smashed.
The consequence of the disaster immediately flashed into his mind. He
could only get back in company with the Rutlands. If they failed, he
would fail too.
He had just assured himself that the damage was irreparable with such
appliances as were at his command in the cave, when he became aware of
light footsteps rapidly approaching. Expecting to see some of the
Rutlands, who had been no doubt looking out for him, he raised his head
towards the crest of the rise. Next moment he was in the grasp of two
men, one of whom, mouthing guttural triumph, gripped his throat in a
strangle hold.
V
About half an hour before Burton started from the aerodrome, Captain
Bramarbas of the 19th Pomeranian infantry of the line laid down his
knife and fork with a grunt of satisfaction. He wiped his lips, tossed
off a glass of wine, and turning gleaming eyes upon Lieutenant
Schnauzzahn of the same regiment, who sat opposite, he ejaculated--
"Gott sei dank! These French swine have one virtue: they can cook."
"It is wonderful!" the lieutenant agreed. "Who would have thought that
an old French farmer would have had such resources? Cheap, too."
"Cheap indeed!" laughed the captain. "Between you and me, old Lumineau
will have difficulty in turning our paper into good German money after
the war ... Ist es aber entsetzlich--the noise of those swine."
The door had just opened to admit an old woman servant bearing coffee.
From the adjoining room--the spacious farm kitchen given up to the
captain's men--came a guttural roar. A hundred Germans feeding like one
make a variety of unpleasant noises. It is not a mere coincidence,
perhaps, that the Prussian loves a pig.
The officers took their cups of coffee, lit cigars, and lolled back in
their chairs. The door closed behind the servant, reducing the sounds
to a muffled hum, not loud enough to disturb the comfort of gentlemen.
It was a pleasant hour. The day's work was done; they were three or
four miles behind the firing line; the farm was a snug billet. They had
been working late; supper had taken the place of dinner: when they had
finished their cigars they might go with a good German conscience to
bed.
Presently there was a knock at the door.
"Come in," said the captain drowsily.
A sergeant entered, and stiffly saluted.
"What do you want? It is late. I gave you your orders."
"Herr Captain, I ask pardon for disturbing you, but----"
"Waste no time, Ascher. Say what you have to say quickly, confound
you!"
[Illustration: "Say what you have to say quickly--confound you!"]
"It is important, Herr Captain. For some time I have been suspicious of
the farmer, as the Herr Captain knows, though he does not condescend to
share my doubts. True, the farmer, though a Frenchman, is very obliging"
(here the sergeant glanced for a moment at the remains on the table),
"but I felt that his amiability was a mere blind, and I watched him."
"Ha! Now what did you see?" said the captain, sitting up. "If there is
treachery----"
"Once or twice at night the farmer has gone out towards the wood yonder.
I asked myself, why? There is no farm work at night. To-night I
followed him. It was difficult, Herr Captain, for he moved very
cautiously, stopping and looking behind and around him."
"That itself is suspicious. Well?"
"He made his way beyond the wood, up the hill, and down into the hollow
on the other side, and there, Herr Captain, he placed three small lamps
on the ground, so." He moved to the table, and arranged three bottles
triangularly. "He lit them."
"And you? You seized him, of course?"
"I thought of doing so, Herr Captain, and of demanding an explanation;
but I felt it was a matter for the Herr Captain's discretion----"
"And you left him! Idiot! They were signals, of course. You ought to
have put them out, tied him up, and brought him to me in the morning.
Now I lose an hour's sleep. Idiot!"
Captain Bramarbas was active enough now. He got up, buckled his belt
and put on his helmet.
"Come, Schnauzzahn," he said, "we will see to this ourselves."
"Why not send a squad?" suggested the lieutenant.
"Ach! the swine are probably drunk. They are dull fools at the best.
Come along! We'll slip out through the window, to avoid warning the
servants."
The two officers and the sergeant climbed out of the window and hastened
towards the hill. They had scarcely gone when the servant who had
waited on them knocked at the door, and receiving no answer, hearing no
voices, quickly opened it and looked in. She glanced from the vacant
chairs to the open window.
"Eh, mon Dieu!" she muttered, and closing the door, hurried back to the
kitchen.
The three Germans had covered about half the distance to the hill when
the sound of heavy firing from the right broke upon their ears. They
stopped, and stood for a few moments watching the shells bursting in
rapid succession in the neighbourhood of the trenches. The captain
swore.
"It looks like an attack," he growled. "These cursed English! We must
make haste in case we are called up in support. No sleep to-night,
Schnauzzahn."
They hurried on, and in five minutes more were creeping up the low
incline. At the crest they halted and peered into the hollow. A figure
was bending over one of the lamps, which emitted a brighter light into
the mist.
"Go and capture him, Ascher," whispered the captain.
"Shall I bayonet him, Herr Captain?"
"No; we must use him. We can shoot him later."
The sergeant crept silently upon the old farmer from the rear. It was
the work of a few seconds to overpower him and cast him helpless on the
ground.
The two officers went forward. As they descended the slope they became
aware that the lights were less visible.
"They're intended as signals to an aeroplane," said Schnauzzahn,
approaching them rapidly. "See! They are directed above."
"Villainous treachery! But our good German wits will defeat it.
Listen! Do you hear an engine?"
"No," replied the lieutenant after a brief silence.
"Then we have still time. Ascher, move the lamps near the slope. We'll
spoil his landing!"
The sergeant carried the lamps to the foot of the slope, and placed them
close together.
"Not so, idiot!" cried the captain, "arrange them as they were before.
Don't you understand?"
Hardly had the lamps been rearranged in their triangular position when
the whirring of an engine was heard through the thunder of the distant
guns.
"Here he is!" said Bramarbas. "I hope he'll break his neck. If he
doesn't, you and I will seize him, Schnauzzahn; Ascher will guard the
farmer."
They waited. The aeroplane could be heard wheeling above. The
bombardment suddenly ceased.
"The English have changed their minds. They can't have done much harm in
ten minutes. So much the better!" said the captain. The searchlights
began to play. "Potztausend! I hope he won't be shot down. Much better
for us to capture him. Can he see the lights through the mist?"
"No doubt he has seen them. The sound has stopped. He has shut off the
engine."
"Bring the Frenchman over the crest, Ascher, and don't let him cry out."
Thus it happened that Burton, after his unlucky accident, found himself
in the grasp of Captain Bramarbas and Lieutenant Schnauzzahn of the 19th
Pomeranian infantry of the line.
The German officers were mightily pleased with themselves. They had
supped well: French cooking and French wine predisposed them to rosy
views. Nothing more delightful could have crowned their day. A French
spy, an English aeroplane and an English airman--all in a single haul!
The Iron Cross had often been awarded for much less. And, of course,
there was something behind it all. An enemy aeroplane would not land
thus in the German lines unless there was some important object to be
gained. The English, no doubt, were mad; but after all there was method
in their madness. The next move must be to discover the nature of this
Englishman's scheme, and his means of communication with the farmer spy.
Then compliments, promotion, and the Iron Cross!
Some such thoughts as these raced through the Germans' minds in the
moment of exultation, when, for the first time, their hands laid hold of
English flesh.
"Hand over your revolver," said the captain in German. "Do you speak
German?"
"No," said Burton, making no resistance as Schnauzzahn relieved him of
the weapon. He felt very wretched.
Captain Bramarbas was disappointed. Neither he nor his lieutenant spoke
English, and it did not occur to him for the moment that the Englishman
might speak French.
"We'll march our prisoners down to the farm," he said to Schnauzzahn.
"Wait a moment. They may have accomplices who will remove or destroy
the aeroplane as soon as our backs are turned. That would be a pity."
"What then? If one of us stays to guard the machine, and there are
accomplices, he would have to meet an unknown number single-handed."
He stood pointing his revolver at Burton. They must find a way out of
this quandary.
"Why not send Ascher to the farm to bring up some men?"
"Again, he might be sprung upon by the enemy. Of course, they would
have no chance in the end, but for the present, until we know more, we
had better remain all three together. Listen! Do you hear anything?"
"No."
"They may be lurking somewhere to take us unawares, though how they
could conceive such a scheme, so mad, so insolent---- Ach! I have it."
The captain had indeed at last made up his mind--and, as the sequel
showed, chosen the wrong course. It was, perhaps, no worse than
another, for it was chosen in ignorance of the circumstances; but his
calculation sprang from a typically German misconception of the
psychology of an Englishman.
A sentry was always on duty at the door of the farm. A couple of
revolver shots would give him the alarm, and in a few minutes the
Pomeranians, swine in their hours of ease, but good soldiers
nevertheless, would rush to their captain's assistance.
Burton stood motionless. Schnauzzahn was a little to his left.
Bramarbas faced him, holding the revolver. The captain suddenly fired
off two rapid shots, moving the revolver to the right so as to avoid
hitting his prisoner.
The airman's life is punctuated by swift decisions, depends on the
perfect co-ordination of act with thought. Burton's mind worked quicker
than lightning. Before the German had time to cover him again, he shot
out his right arm, rigid as a rod of metal, struck up the captain's
wrist with a sharp jerk that sent the revolver flying, and a fraction of
a second later dealt him with the left fist a fierce upper cut beneath
the jaw, and lifted him into the bushes.
A bullet scorched Burton's cheek as he spun round to deal with
Schnauzzahn. Another stung his left shoulder. But he hurled himself
upon the agitated lieutenant, and with a sledge-hammer blow sent him to
join his captain.
There was now only the sergeant to dispose of. That worthy stood over
the prostrate farmer some little distance away, and though he had heard
the thudding blow and the crash as each of his superiors fell, he had
not clearly seen what had happened. Burton was dashing towards him when
a Verey light illumined the scene. And then the sergeant was transfixed
with amazement and terror, for on one side of him he saw the figure of a
British airman, on the other, sprinting up towards the lip of the
hollow, a score of silent forms in the well-known khaki. Ordinarily, no
doubt, he was a brave man, but at such a moment as this valour melted in
discretion. He flung up his hands.
[Illustration: HANDS UP!]
The German officers meanwhile had picked themselves up. They were
surrounded and seized. The light had died away.
"Quick!" said Hedley. "I hear the Huns rushing out of the farm.
Where's Lumineau?"
The farmer had risen, and came to him.
"Get away to the cave," said Burton. "I'll be after you in a second:
must fire the machine."
He rushed to the aeroplane, poured some petrol out and applied a match,
and as the flame shot up into the air, dashed after the Rutlands and
their three prisoners, who, under the guidance of the farmer, were
disappearing into the wood. Five minutes later, when the Pomeranians
arrived on the scene, their amazed eyes beheld only a blazing aeroplane;
not a man was in sight.
Arriving at the cave, the panting Englishmen threw themselves down; some
laughed silently; the spectacle of three gagged Germans was very
pleasing.
"What brought you up so opportunely?" asked Burton. "Not the shots?
There wasn't time."
"No. Old Jacqueline warned us. She missed the officers, saw the open
window, and guessed that they had got on the track of Lumineau. Trust a
Frenchwoman's wits! But I say, what's your news?"
"It couldn't be better. The Brigadier, as it happened, had ordered an
attack on the German trenches for to-night. When your C.O. explained
the circumstances, he was quite keen to fit his arrangements to our
scheme."
"That bombardment wasn't bluff, then?"
"He timed it to give me cover, and broke off to delude the Huns. The
attack is fixed for two o'clock, when they'll have given up expecting
it."
"That leaves us plenty of time to get to the trenches. It'll be
ticklish work, getting through. I'll tell old Lumineau: we depend on
his guidance. If he declines the job we shall be horribly handicapped."
He took the farmer apart, and held a quiet conversation with him. The
old man readily agreed to guide the party to the vicinity of the third
line of trenches.
"But you'll come with us all the way?" said Hedley. "The farm won't be
safe for you after this. You'll be shot."
Lumineau shrugged and smiled.
"Perhaps not, monsieur," he said. "The Bosches did not see us; they will
only be puzzled. I will go now back to the farm; do you see my
amazement when they tell me their officers have disappeared? I will
lead a search--not in this direction, par exemple!--and I will come back
in good time to lead you. A bas les Bosches."
VI
Some few days later, Lieutenant Hedley was dispensing hospitality to a
few friends in a neat little officers' estaminet in a village behind the
lines. Among his guests were Captain Adams and other officers of the
Rutlands' supporting battery, and Burton of the Flying Corps.
"It took us about forty minutes to smash that battery you spotted,
Burton," said Adams, with an air of pride.
"Better than pig-killing," returned Burton solemnly.
"Oh, we cut up a few pigs too."
"How do you know?" asked Hedley.
"Well, you see, in the first place," Adams was beginning earnestly, when
Laurence Cay interrupted him.
"We haven't time for firstly, secondly, thirdly, old man. We want to
hear about Hedley and his missing platoon. By George! it must have been
creepy work."
"A good deal of it was literally creeping," said Hedley. "Old Farmer
Lumineau led us through woods and orchards for miles--a roundabout way,
of course. It was ghastly, trudging along in the dark, trying to make
no noise, afraid to whisper, stopping to listen, starting at the least
sound. We got at last to a little copse just behind the farthermost
line of trenches, and there Lumineau left us. We were on thorns, I can
tell you. It seemed that the attack would never begin. We couldn't
hear any Huns anywhere near us, but caught a note of a cornet now and
then from some billet on our left rear. I looked at my trench map----"
"In the dark?" asked Adams.
"No, you juggins! in the light of my electric torch, screened by the men
stooping over me. I got a pretty good idea of our whereabouts, and
talked over a plan of action with my sergeant--a capital fellow--and
Burton. I nearly yelled in sheer excitement when I heard the row as our
chaps started bombing the first trenches. We heard the Huns then, too;
rifles, machine-guns, whizz-bangs: it was an inferno. We crept out into
the communication trench I had spotted, and had nearly got to the second
line when we heard a crowd of Huns racing across from our right. We
waited a bit, went on again, and came smack into a traverse. It was
pitch dark, but we had no sooner scrambled over than a star-shell burst
right overhead. We flung ourselves down, dashed on when the light died,
and--well, I hardly know what happened next. All I know is that somehow
or other we discovered that we were pressing on the rear of a lot of
Huns who were being forced back by our fellows in front, and there was a
good chance of our being scuppered by our own bombs. I passed along
word to give a yell, and the men shouted like fiends let loose. That
was enough for the Huns. Rutlands in front of them, Rutlands behind
them! 'Kamerad! Kamerad!' they bawled when I called to them to
surrender; and to make a long story short, we scooped the lot and got
safe through with a few trifling casualties."
"What beats me," said Adams, "is how Burton managed to deal with three
armed Germans single-handed. How was it, Burton?"
Now Burton was never very ready to talk about himself. He flicked the
ash off his cigarette, and hesitatingly answered--
"Just a bit of luck, Adams."
"Yes, but what?"
"There were only two really."
"Hedley said there were three."
"So there were," said Hedley, "but there was only one upright when I
arrived on the scene."
"What about the others, then? Come, Burton!"
"They weren't far away. The fact is, I knocked 'em down, if you must
have it."
"Both at once? Right, left--that way?"
"No, one after the other. You see, the captain gave me an opening, and
I took it, that's all."
The company were not satisfied with this far from lucid explanation, and
pressed Burton with questions until the details were dragged out of him.
He had to endure a flood of congratulations, until a diversion by
Captain Adams, who had been meditating a tit-for-tat for Burton's
"chipping" on the occasion of his visit to the battery, brought welcome
relief.
"Well," said the captain, slowly unfolding a copy of the _Times_,
"Burton has been gassing a good deal, but what does it all amount to?
The official account won't shock his modesty. Listen! 'Last night we
captured certain elements of the enemy's first and second lines of
trenches in the neighbourhood of ----, and are now consolidating our
gains!'"
THE END
PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY R. CLAY AND SONS, LTD.,
BRUNSWICK STREET, STAMFORD STREET, S.E., AND BUNGAY, SUFFOLK.
* * * * * * * *
HERBERT STRANG'S STORIES OF THE GREAT WAR
A HERO OF LIEGE (Belgium).
FIGHTING WITH FRENCH (Flanders).
FRANK FORESTER (Gallipoli).
BURTON OF THE FLYING CORPS.
THROUGH THE ENEMY'S LINES (Asia Minor).
HISTORICAL STORIES
WITH DRAKE ON THE SPANISH MAIN (Elizabeth).
HUMPHREY BOLD (William III and Anne).
THE ADVENTURES OF HARRY ROCHESTER (Anne).
ROB THE RANGER (Wolfe In Canada).
ONE OF CLIVE'S HEROES (Clive in India).
BOYS OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE (Peninsular War).
BARCLAY OF THE GUIDES (Indian Mutiny).
KOBO (Russo-Japanese War).
BROWN OF MOUKDEN (Russo-Japanese War).
ROMANCES
JACK HARDY: A Story of One Hundred Years Ago.
PALM-TREE ISLAND (Adventure in the Pacific).
SETTLERS AND SCOUTS (East Africa).
THE ADVENTURES OF DICK TREVANION (Smugglers).
THE AIR SCOUT: A Story of National Defence.
THE AIR PATROL: A Story of the North-West Frontier.
TOM BURNABY (the Congo Forest).
SULTAN JIM (German Aggression in Central Africa).
A GENTLEMAN AT ARMS (the Times of Elizabeth)
SAMBA (the Congo Free State).
THE OLD MAN OF THE MOUNTAIN (Central Asian Mysteries).