The Attack on the Munition-shops And Its Sequel
To Max Durend the successful raid on the coal-yards was only the prelude
to the main performance. His mind was bent wholly towards one great
object, and that was to prevent, by every means in his power, the
exploitation of his father's great works by the enemies of his country.
The coal-yard incident, as he termed it, was satisfactory so far as it
went, but gave his mind no real relief such as had resulted from the
recovery of part of the firm's monetary resources and the destruction of
the power-house. The next affair, which, as has been hinted, was already
well in hand, was more important and was an attempt to damage, if not
destroy, some of the great machines installed for the production of
rifles and machine-guns.
The largest workshop in the yard was devoted to this and a few other of
the more delicate kinds of work, and it seemed to Max that the greatest
amount of injury might be inflicted upon the Germans by an attempt on
this shop. The works were still at a standstill, though it was fairly
evident that they would not be so for much longer. The attempt ought,
therefore, to be made within the few following days.
The plan was simplicity itself. It merely provided for Max and Dale to
enter the workshop during the night and to work as much mischief among
the machines as they could, consistently with the need for silence and
the avoidance or silencing of the watchmen. For some days they had kept
the place under close observation, and noted the hours and habits of the
watchmen and the sentinels at either end of the building until they knew
them as well as the men themselves.
Dubec they would not bring with them. He was eager to come, but the work
required alertness and lightness of hand and foot rather than strength,
and for this he would have been of no use. Besides, the two lads, keen
as they were on their self-imposed tasks, were not unmindful of the fact
that he had a wife and children to mourn him should the venture come to
grief.
All, however, seemed to go well. Max and Dale succeeded in effecting an
entrance into the ground floor of the workshop after they had seen the
watchman, by the glint of his lamp, make his midnight round. The two
soldiers--one at each end of the building--saw nothing and heard
nothing, of that they were assured. Without delay, therefore, for in a
little over an hour the watchman would be back from his rounds upon the
upper floors, they proceeded to put out of action the more valuable and
more complicated machines in the building. It was necessary, of course,
that they should be almost silent; so their mode of procedure was to
muffle up in an old blanket the most delicate and fragile parts of the
machines before smashing them with a heavy hammer well swathed in
flannel wrappings.
The machines dealt with first were those farthest from the route that
would be taken by the watchman on his next round. Consequently, when he
came, he passed along swinging his lantern in utter ignorance that
anything was amiss, or that two men lay in ambush close at hand, ready
to spring upon him should he suspect anything wrong and pause to
investigate. As soon as he had passed out of ear-shot the two
recommenced their work with redoubled energy, and some two and a half
hours were thus consumed in work that utterly spoiled a large proportion
of the valuable machines which filled the great workshop.
Skilful, vigilant, and almost silent as they had been, they were yet
after all caught napping. How or by whom they never knew, until, some
time after, Dubec told them of a tale that was going the round among the
workmen to the effect that one of Schenk's hired ferrets had all the
time been hidden on the upper floor. Strange to say, he had been there
not so much to deal with disaffected workmen--the sentinels were
expected to do that--as to spy upon the watchmen themselves. The story
seemed to fit in well with what Max knew of Schenk's character, and he
accepted it as in all probability true. At any rate, neither Max nor
Dale dreamed that aught was amiss until the latter heard the sound of
marching outside, and that upon an unusual scale. He slid quickly to the
nearest window and peeped out.
"We're done, Max!" he cried soberly. "Scores of soldiers, and they look
to be forming a cordon right round the building."
"Are you sure?" Max cried incredulously, hurrying to a window on the
opposite side of the block. One glance was enough to show that a strong
cordon of soldiers was being drawn--nay, to all appearances was already
drawn--all round the workshop. The soldiers faced inwards, and stood
with bayonets fixed, as though prepared for an attempt at escape from
some body of men caught within their armed circle.
"We've been seen, Jack, old man!" cried Max, coming back to the side of
his friend. "It's all up, I fear. They've made up their minds they've
got us, and do not intend to let us slip. I'm so sorry, old man, you
should have been mixed up in this. It's really not your quarrel, but
mine."
There was a new note in Max's voice, one his friend had never heard
before, and it was with something suspiciously like a break in his own
that Dale replied as he seized and wrung his hand: "Don't say another
word, Max. It's my affair too, and I won't have you blame yourself on my
account. We've simply fought for our country, and have now got to die
for it--that's all."
For a moment or two the friends stood silent, grasping one another's
hands. That moment they were indeed friends, and each would cheerfully
have given up his own life to save the other. Then the ruling thought
which still swayed Max's mind asserted itself once more.
"It seems so, Dale. Well, then, let us die to some good purpose. Here we
have under our hands the most valuable of the workshops filched from us.
It is only partly out of action. Let us complete the good work, and we
shall at least have deserved well of our country."
"Aye; but how so?"
"Let us burn it down."
"With us in it?"
"Aye, if need be. But if we will we can always sally out and exchange
that fate for the bayonet's point."
Dale gazed at his friend in undisguised admiration. "You are a terror,
Max," he said slowly. "These old works are your very life-blood, and I
believe you would go through fire and water to keep the Germans out of
'em."
"So I would," replied Max with conviction, as he coolly reached down a
great can of lubricating-oil and poured it over the floor and upon a
pile of wooden cases close by. "Well, if you are game--and I know you
are--let us scatter all the oil and stuff we can find about the place
and set fire to it. They'll never get it out."
"Right you are, Stroke. It's the final, and we must make a win of it.
What would Hawkesley's think if they could see us--or Benson's?"
"Dale," cried Max, with sudden and deeper earnestness, "d'ye know, I
believe this is what we were really training for during all those
gruelling races. It was not for nothing we slogged away there day after
day, learning to conquer disappointment and defeat. No; it was to know
how to serve our country here."
"I believe you--and we will."
"Hark! I think I can hear soldiers on the floor below. Look out! I am
going to set a light to this pile of cases. Get ready to run. I fancy it
will spread like wildfire."
A match was applied, and flames leapt up and spread with a rapidity that
would have terrified anyone less absorbed or less determined than our
two heroes. The flames flew along the floor and benches, and Max and
Dale retreated down the room, overturning all the cans of oil and grease
they could find, and making it an easy matter for the fire to catch and
hold. The smoke, driven along in front of the flames, quickly became so
intolerable that they had to fly for relief to the staircase at the
farther end of the building.
Outside the workshop the burst of flame was the signal for a loud yell
of execration, mingled with cries of warning to the soldiers who had
entered the building in search of the hostile workmen reported there.
The soldiers trooped noisily out and joined the cordon still drawn about
the burning building. Messengers were dispatched to the fire-stations,
and in a few minutes a couple of engines arrived and set to work to
fight the flames. But though they were expeditious in arriving, the
firemen were not equally expeditious in getting their hoses effectually
trained upon the building. For one thing, the river had been largely
relied upon to furnish a water-supply, and no hydrants were close at
hand. Consequently the hoses had to be carried a great distance, and as
the yards were still in darkness, save for the lurid light shed by the
burning building, the hoses were badly exposed to the attentions of any
hostile workman who happened to be near the scene.
Dubec "happened" to be there, with two or three other men animated by
out-and-out hostility to the Germans, and waged fierce war upon the
hoses at every point at which they lay in shadow. By the time the
officer commanding the troops had awakened to the situation, the hoses
had been completely ruined, and the fighting of the flames delayed until
fresh ones could be brought to the spot.
In the meantime Max and Dale had ceased their efforts to extend the
fire, and had retreated to one of the stone staircases situated at each
end of the building. There was, in fact, little more to be done, for the
fire had got firm hold, and it seemed certain that the whole building
was doomed. The end by the staircase was almost free from smoke, and Max
and Dale lingered there while awaiting the moment when they should be
compelled to choose between death by burning or by the bayonets of the
German soldiers. They fell somewhat quiet during those moments, and when
they talked it was of the good old glorious times they had spent
together. Presently Max's ear caught the sound of someone ascending the
stairs.
"Someone--a fireman, I suppose--is coming up the stairs, Dale."
"What shall we do with him? Give him his quietus? I still have my
hammer."
"No--get in the corner here and watch what he's after. It won't help us
to hurt him."
The man moved on up the stairs until he passed by the spot where Max and
Dale were in ambush. He was a fireman, and his object seemed to be to
find out at close quarters the extent and power of the fire. As the man
passed him, Max had a sudden idea.
"We must attack him after all, Dale," he whispered. "Come--help me so
that no alarm is raised. I will tell you why in a moment."
Sheltered by the fitful light and occasional gusts of rolling smoke, it
was an easy matter to creep upon the fireman unawares and to bring him
to the ground stunned and helpless. That accomplished, Max immediately
proceeded to remove the man's tunic and helmet. Dale then understood--it
was to be the ruse of the sham sentry outside the power-house over
again.
"Now put them on, Dale," cried Max rapidly. "You can then go boldly down
and out to the cordon of soldiers. They will let you through without
question."
"Not I," replied Dale sturdily. "I'm not going to leave you like that.
What will become of you, I should like to know?"
"I shall be all right. When the next fireman comes along I shall do the
same. Now, go ahead, and don't delay."
"No," replied Dale decidedly. "I'll not do it, Max. We will wait for the
next fireman together if _you_ will not don the suit."
"Dale--you will do as you are told!" cried Max, roused to sudden anger
by his friend's unexpected obstinacy. "I am Stroke of this crew--not
you."
"I know you are, but you are asking too much when you want me to leave
the boat. Besides, I should never get through. I can't muster up nearly
enough German. You put them on, old man--it's no use staying here when
you might escape."
"You shall suffer for this, Dale, upon my word you shall," cried Max
angrily, as he savagely thrust himself into the tunic, buckled on the
belt and axe, and donned the great helmet. "But if you think I am going
without you you are badly mistaken. Come downstairs, near the entrance,
and I will tell you what I propose."
The two lads descended the stairs, bearing the unconscious fireman
between them--for they could not bring themselves to leave him there to
burn--until they reached the entrance to the building. There they
deposited him just inside the door, in such a position that the first
man entering would be sure to stumble over him.
Outside several engines were now in full swing pumping water into the
first floor, which was burning furiously from end to end. The fire had
spread to the upper floors, and the ground floor had begun to catch in
several places. The whole workshop, indeed, seemed doomed to complete
destruction, for the fire had obtained such firm hold that the engines
seemed to make little impression upon it. From the shouts of the Germans
it was clear that they were greatly enraged, and it was perfectly
certain that the shrift of the authors of the fire, if they were caught,
would be an exceedingly short one.
"Halt here for a moment, Dale, while I tell you what I propose. It is a
desperate venture, but if you are still going to be obstinate it is all
I can think of, and we might just as well try it as throw our lives
away."
"I'm absolutely obdurate, Max. I'm not going to be saved at your
expense, so go ahead with your venture."
"Well--it's this. I am going to sally out, wearing the fireman's uniform
and carrying you in my arms. You are to feign unconsciousness. The idea
is that you have been badly hurt, and I am carrying you out of reach of
the fire. I have some hope that in my fireman's garb and with my
blackened face they will let me pass."
"All right--it sounds good enough, Max. At any rate, we shall keep
together--whether we sink or swim."
"Come along, then," replied Max briskly, stooping down and lifting Dale
in his arms. "Let your head fall back and look as lifeless as you can.
It's now or never--absolutely."
The cordon of soldiers with fixed bayonets, outside, suddenly saw the
fireman--apparently the man who had entered the building a few minutes
before--reappear, bearing in his arms the limp figure of a man rescued
from the flames. The fireman strode straight out towards them, and as he
reached them the men opened to right and left and let him pass through.
A non-commissioned officer followed him.
"What have you there, fireman?" he asked, as he endeavoured to catch a
glimpse of the blackened face that hung so limply down. "Is the man
dead?"
"No--he still lives," replied Max, moving on without checking his pace.
Other people were coming up, and his one thought was to get beyond the
circle of light cast by the great fire before taking action.
"Set the man down here while I give him a drain from my flask. You must
not take him away until my officer has seen him."
"One moment--here is a bank against which I can lean him," replied Max,
still moving steadily away. He could see the non-commissioned officer
was getting impatient, if not suspicious, and whispered to Dale: "I am
going to set you down. Directly your feet touch ground, bolt for the
river. I will follow and be there as soon as you; but don't wait for me.
_Now!_"
As he spoke, Max slowly lowered Dale to the ground. The soldier was
close by, but none else was within some yards. They were beyond the
circle of bright light cast by the fire, and a few yards would take them
into darkness, which was pitchy to anyone coming from the vicinity of
the fire. The chance of escape was good, and Max, the time for resolute
action at hand, felt his heart bound with fresh hope and energy.
The moment Dale's feet were on the ground Max gave him a push in the
direction of the river and off he flew. Almost simultaneously Max seized
his helmet and dashed it in the face of the soldier, who had raised a
shout of alarm and was on the point of chasing Dale. The sudden blow
disconcerted the man, and he hung in the wind for a moment. The supposed
injured man might be an enemy, but it was certain this aggressive
fireman was one, and, as Max darted off, the soldier turned, lifted his
rifle, and aimed a shot at him.
Max had little fear of the man's rifle. It was too dark, and he was
moving too rapidly and erratically, for anyone to take good aim. The
bullet passed wide of the mark, and the soldier, realizing his mistake
in not pursuing at once, instead of wasting precious moments in firing,
put his rifle at the trail and rushed madly after, shouting to his
comrades and all who might be within hearing that a spy was on the point
of escaping.
Max knew the ground and the soldier did not, so Max had no difficulty in
increasing his lead. He could see Dale a dozen yards ahead, and by the
time he reached the bank had caught him up.
"In at once, and dive down-stream, Dale!" he cried, and without a
moment's pause they both tumbled in, anyhow, and struck out with all
their strength down-stream.