“Agh, mine goot savior! Mine beeg fine frent! I feel so full to choy dat
I must cry!” The Belgian acted exactly like an overjoyed mastiff when
his master returns from a long absence.
“Why, Johann! This _is_ a surprise,” cried Bob, rising from his chair
and joining Bill who still remained pinned in the arms of the happy
foreigner.
The others in the party at the dinner table watched with amazement as
the little tableaux came to a finish.
“Now that Johann is on the stage, it is most appropriate that he tell
the story of our adventures in France. For, be it known to all present,
Jo was with us when we first went over with the Canadian boys, and it
was Jo’s mother who nursed me after I got away from the Hun temporary
prison in Belgium.”
Bill now turned to Johann and made him understand that he was to tell
those around the table of the adventures of the three buddies. Mr.
Dalken immediately placed a chair for Johann, but that worthy felt he
could talk louder and gesticulate better if he stood upon his long
staunch legs.
“Agh! Dat wass beeg times—ven we fight so fine for my countree, eh? But
now—agh! poor Johann iss no more dan a keetchen boy.”
The great big fellow shook his head despairingly and had it not been
that he was deadly in earnest over the complaint, his audience would
have laughed at such a dire circumstance as his being a kitchen boy.
“Yah! I tells dat story fine, Beel! Now hear me: Von day in ver early
morning, I am sent to find someting to eat fer my mudder and seek
seester. I like to belong to a solger’s life but eferyone say I too
younk and I got’ta tak care ofer my family. Dis time I hear one farmer
got a beeg peeg what he not like the Huns to eat, and he sent me vord to
come carry him off and help to keel him.
“Veil, I go so far on one road dat I think pretty soon thet farm he come
up and show himself, but I finds onny black smokin’ ruins wherever I go.
When I think I been gone far enough on one road I say to myself: ‘Jo,
now go dis way—mebbe dat man live down dis way.’ I take him. But I not
find a farm—I find plenty Huns what sit and laff and eat pork what dey
fry ofer a wood fire.
“I smell dat pork and I know now dey eat dat peeg what my farmer fren
send vord to me to come keel for my mudder. So I go right up to dem six
fat enemy, and I speak right out in him face and tell him what I feel.
Mebbe dey don’t laff so much at me dat one man he say: ‘Ketch him and
slit his gullet. He make a fine beeg dinner next time we eat!’
“Veil, and so, anudder Hun come ofer and stick out a hand to hoi’ my
arm, but I shake him off like I feel he insult me. Den one fat feller
what looks like a boss, calls out for him to put me in the peegpen where
two more prisoners they keep.
“Queeck like anything four Huns ketch hold on me and push me in a leetle
pen where I see here my good fren’ Beel and my nudder fine fren’ Bob. We
tree mus’ live in a peeg pen all night, and nex’ day dose fat enemy tink
to take us to a prison in heem own countree. But I tink difrunt.
“I say to Beel here, ‘Six Huns, tree white man. Six what so fat dey no
jump, and tree of us what lean like famine.’ But we got good arm, and we
stay in dat peeg pen all night and fix up sometings what make our enemy
fall down er run like nudding.
“All night we vork and pull old wood from dat peeg pen and viles our
enemy sleep we fix up our cloobs. I mix oop so much peeg-mud in big
cannon balls like anyt’ing, and Beel he laffs so much he falls down. Bob
here he not laff so much but he grin all over cause we got such a fine
way to shoot dem enemy and run away.
“Veil, Beel say dis Hun bunch what he call foratch scouts—dem what
should go out and bring in eat stuff. But dis crowd sit and eat what dey
find, and so mebbe dey got’ta go back in the morning. Anyway, I hear the
boss say late dat night, ‘You two go back and report in the mornin’—no
food yet. We four go on and keep huntin’ for more. See!’
“Yes, two men see, and I see, too! Dat’s ven I tell my plans and we vork
hard all night.
“Pretty soon, when daylight comes ofer the sky, two men hurry off, and
leaves four enemy to me. I got efery plan fixt so I tel Beel and Bob to
be retty to hit dem cloobs hard, soon as I fire my soft mud-balls right
in dem beeg fat faces of dem Chermans. Den I fixes plenty soft—ah, so
soft—peeg-pen dirt-balls on my left arm, and I comes out sofly to where
the Boss rolls on the grass asleep, and I stuff most his face and his
mout’ all full of peeg-mud. Same time I fire mud-bullets all in the face
of dem udder tree solgers, whiles Beel and Bob come right off me and
whack! Bang! down coom dem peeg cloobs on top off dose Hun’s heads. One,
two, fall down on the ground, and the Boss he got what Beel calls
bracelets put on his hands, queeck. Bob he find dem right by the side of
dat Boss, so he use ’em right!
“Veil, one man what stands oop, and dat Boss, we mek to walk queeck—oh
so queeck—for the army what sits off away from the Hun side. And pooty
soon, we march ofer No Man lant and Beel yell like he was mad. Eferybody
mek such a beeg time ofer me, and Beel and Bob say I must go to tell the
Capataine all about dem peeg mud-shots. So we go and Capataine laff, oh
he laff, and he say: ‘Give Johann all the food he can take to his
family.’
“But I say: ‘Agh, no, Mr. Capataine! All dem enemy now like to ketch Jo
and find out how to mek peeg cannons, and I nefer again see my seester
and mudder. Mebbe I like much better to dress oop like my seester and
ride back to home in a peasant cart, yes?’
“Efery body laff again and say yes. So I find Beel here to go to get me
a gurl’s dress, and I put him on. But Jo not so beeg den as now, and dat
dress go on pooty goot, eh, Beel?”
Thus appealed to Bill agreed, but the hardly controlled laughter of the
audience now pealed forth and the narrator could not be heard for a few
moments. Then he resumed his tale.
“All right! Beel and Bob find me a seat in a Belgium peasant cart what
drivin’ back home, and I sit like a nice beeg gurl on a seat and call
her mudder. I find goot luck dat time, cause no Hun stop me and no one
take the beeg dinner what Capataine pack for my family.
“Mebbe my mudder not cry tears for joy when I come in all dressed oop
like my seester, and my seester she laff and say: ‘Now I got a fine new
dress to wear.’
“Veil, I tell my mudder I got’ta go join Beel’s friend’s in dis fight. I
find I beeg enuff to take prisoner by my enemy, so I beeg enuff to
fight, too! My mudder cry, and my seester say. ‘Oh, vere shall we find
help?’ En I say: ‘Leaf this old house ’cause soon it make fire for my
enemy to cook peegs, and you run so fast what you can to my onkel’s in
Bruges.’ So dey run an’ I coom back to fight wid Beel. And so dat’s
all.”
As he concluded his story, Johann instantly stooped and took the
abandoned tray. He quickly transferred its contents to the table and
turned to hurry back to the kitchen without waiting for applause from
his interested audience. At the same moment the Oriental chef came down
the deck and brandished a long wooden spoon. Johann saw and grinned. He
half turned to Mr. Dalken and said in a most laughable way: “My enemy
cooms!”
Then he scuttled away down the other side of the craft, and the chef
stood and shook an angry fist in his direction. But the Oriental heard
the loud laughter from those seated at table, and saw their pleased
faces and he surmised that Johann must have been the cause of it. Hence
he hurried back to his culinary heaven to question the servant and learn
what had so amused the guests.
“Jo hasn’t told half the story,” declared Bob, as the merry laughter
subsided.
“No, he skipped anything that went to tell you what a loyal man he was,
and how he fought for country as well as for us, his friends.” Bill
seemed to go back and mentally review the incidents.
“Then it is up to you to tell us, Bill,” said Jack.
“Perhaps we have a hero with us who should have had a decoration. I
believe in giving honor where honor is due, and Jo shall have everything
that’s coming to him,” said Mr. Dalken.
“Well, the Croix de Guerre which I wear belongs to Jo, according to all
rules of the game, but it fell to my lot to get it, and to Jo’s lot to
get the shell in his leg,” said Bill. This caused a demand for the
story, and Bill began.
“Bob and I volunteered at midnight to hunt on No Man’s Land for the
officer who had important orders in the breast pocket of his uniform. He
went out that afternoon with his men but was reported missing upon our
return. No one saw him fall, nor had he been seen captured by the enemy
with whom we had a mix-up. This was soon after Jo returned from home to
link his future with that of the Canadian Troops.
“We managed to crawl unseen all over the same ground where we had the
skirmish late that afternoon, but not a sign of the lieutenant could we
see. Finally Bob lifted his head and nodded at what had seemed to me to
be a heap of debris.
“‘It’s a ruin,’ whispered Bob. ‘I don’t remember seeing it there this
evening.’
“‘You didn’t, Bob. It was a little barn when last we came out here,’
replied I.
“‘Then a shell must have smashed it since. Could the Left, have been
near it, do you think?’ Bob’s tone suggested possibilities, so I
silently agreed to follow him.
“We crept along, slowly and carefully, fearful of a surprise at any
moment, for the enemy were out that night as well as others, and they
might be seeking in this ruin, exactly as we purposed to seek for
missing pals.
“We reached the heap of stones and plaster without interruption and then
we felt we could breathe better. The barn fell so that some of the
timbers caught in the ends of others and stuck up after the manner of
loose jack straws. Under this small hollow pyramid was enough shelter
for both of us, and we crept there hoping to hide and plan our return.
“To my horror I came in contact with a cold face, and after discreetly
feeling over the body I found it to be a Hun. We heaved a sigh of relief
to find it was not our Lefty. But close upon that relief came a shock: A
groan from under the timbers.
“‘Look out for a surprise!’ warned Bob, and I nodded.
“But we had no time to lose in wariness, for immediately after the moan
we heard a German cursing fluently. The voice was not the same. I soon
made my way into the impromptu cave and there discovered our officer,
pinned down by a timber and quite unconscious. It was his moan we had
heard. Almost within arm’s reach of him, the Hun soldier was pinned down
also, but he could not move his body even though he was mad to drive his
spike into our Lefty’s unconscious heart.
“In a few shakes we had the German tied securely and the timbers lifted
from our officer. Then we planned to return with the injured man upon
our backs. The enemy we were hoping to drive before us into camp, but he
objected so strenuously that we feared detection if we insisted. It was
more important to get the officer back and leave the Hun. Yet we did not
care to murder him in cold blood, and he refused to go quietly. We
decided to bang him over the head with one of the logs, and when
senseless we could drag him after us. Even this seemed unnecessary risk
at the time, so we made him understand that we would shoot him down in
his track if he refused to creep ahead of us as commanded. He knew that
he ran the danger of fire from both sides should we be discovered on No
Man’s Land, yet he was daring enough the moment we had started on our
way to try and expose us to that double fire. In fact, he figured that
there would be but one German less if all were killed, but there would
be three men of his enemy’s side lost. But he failed in his little plot.
“We had not advanced ten feet, I was carrying the officer upon my back
as I managed to worm my way after Bob, when we heard a small unit of
Germans coming from the other direction. They, too, were creeping,
creeping stealthily, in order to find their lost companions.
Fortunately, we had gagged the Hun who went in advance of me, and he
could not shout, but he could kick up such a racket on the ground with
his feet that it must attract attention in the stillness of the night.
“That made Bob so mad that he stood right up, grabbed the Hun and
hustled him back again to the ruin. I had no choice but to turn with my
load and return also. We had hardly reached this comparative security
when the Germans who were out to find their comrades, heard us and
reached the spot we had just abandoned.
“‘They’ll be in here next!’ whispered Bob. ‘Got your gun ready?’
“I had placed the officer back under the low shelter of the fallen
timbers, and then roped the Hun to a huge post, which had been a corner
stud of the barn, leaving the gag in his mouth; his head and his arms
secured, to prevent his chewing the ropes or fumbling with his harness.
Then I took my station near the aperture by which any one would have to
enter the ruin. Bob squatted on the other side of the heap.
“We had not long to wait. In only too short an interval, the heads of
our enemy came into view. They were not as circumspect as Bob and I had
been, for they did not advance with guns cocked and ready, hence I found
it an easy matter to pluck the gun directly out of the hand of the first
comer. At the same moment, as if he caught my idea, Bob fell upon him
and closed his mouth with a big flat hand. The surprised man was so
frightened that he forgot to yell for help, and his other two comrades
came on without warning until it was too late to retreat.
“The captured man did give a cry but it was muffled and so
unintelligible that his pals might have taken it to come from prisoners
he had found within the ruin. But the two who followed the first capture
were alert, and poked the muzzles of their rifles almost in my face
without being able to see what they were up against. I dropped suddenly
and rolled over against the hulk of the man who came first. The blow
against his legs and in the pit of his stomach made him double over me
and go headlong into the Hun who sat roped against the post. Instantly I
was on him and had him at a disadvantage. It took but a jiffy to force
back his arms and make him let go his clutch on the gun. I laughed at
the simple task we had had, when right behind me sounded the report of a
rifle. It was so close to my head that I jumped and let go the hold on
my prisoner.
“But the bullet meant for me found its rest in the German I had just
released. He rolled over with a groan, and I turned to fight the third
man whose gun I thought had fired at me. To my astonishment I saw Johann
in silent combat with the enemy. He had crept in just in time to see the
Hun aim at me, and he had jumped the man so unexpectedly that the rifle
went off wild and hit the wrong man.
“In a few seconds we had all the prisoners roped and willing to follow
wherever we commanded—even to the ends of the earth. And Jo insisted
upon taking our officer upon his own broad back. We managed to secure
the Lieutenant to his back by means of bits of harness found in the
ruins of the old barn, and having secured the important order in my own
breast-pocket, we started out, driving the four prisoners before us.
“It was almost dawn when we reached our own line, and great was the
welcome we got as we came in ‘bringing our sheaves with us.’ But, as I
say, Bob and I got the medals, for doing what really Johann brought to a
pass. Without his presence at the very moment when he was needed most, I
would have been a dead man and Bob would have been at the mercy of three
lively Huns. And it was Jo who turned the table for us.”
When Bill had finished his story, the girls cheered for Jo. He was just
approaching with the next course, but when he saw all the eager smiling
faces turned his way, and realized that Beel had told the story of the
old ruins, he set the heavy tray upon the seat of a chair and fled.
Scouts were sent to find him and bring him back, but not a trace of him
could they see. He had found a better hiding place than his seester’s
dress in which he had travelled back to his home in Belgium that day.
“Well, let’s finish our dinner, children, and then we will take up the
hunt for Jo. It will be better fun than hunting the slipper,” remarked
Mr. Dalken.
The dinner continued merrily, every one pleased at the discovery of a
real hero on the crew of the yacht, and Mr. Dalken pleased to hear of
Jo’s courage and simple childlike bravery without thought of recompense.
But he also had a plan.
Later in the evening, while the young folks were dancing and trying
their best to forget the warm climate of the Equator, Mr. Dalken slipped
away and remained absent for some time. He had gone to find Jo and have
a heart to heart talk with him.
Thus he learned that Jo had signed up to take this voyage in order to
earn more money to send to his sister who now was in a French hospital
in the north of France, suffering from nervous collapse and lack of
nutrition. His aged mother had died from exposure at the time the enemy
had swarmed over Belgium and had driven every native forth from home and
friends.
“Well, Jo, I am going to communicate with a relative who is doing
reconstruction work in France now, and I shall ask her to visit your
sister and see if she is able to travel. If she is I shall send her the
money to bring her over to you, and henceforth you shall work for me—not
for the Captain, or the chef, or any other boss, but for me. Do you like
the plan?”
Johann sat and stared for a few moments, then he jumped up and shouted.
“Do I like heem! Oh, Meester Boss, I _love_ heem! And my seek
seester—ah, I love you, Beeg Boss!” And to Mr. Dalken’s astonishment
Johann threw both arms about his neck and wept tears of joy upon the
nice black dinner coat.
But Mr. Dalken never mentioned this to others, for he appreciated the
embrace which came spontaneously from the heart of this great big giant
of a young Belgian whose gratitude was unbounded. And he took Johann’s
hand and shook it in a friendly way, to seal the compact. Just as he
ended the hand-shaking, the chef came in.
“O-oh, Hon’able Master, muchee warm t’night! Most hon’able company feel
plenty sweat mebbe—me pour nice cool jlink, eh, Hon’able Boss?”
“I wish you would, please, and throw in plenty of ice,” laughed Mr.
Dalken, turning and leaving the little room.
“Come, now, Mos’ Hon’able So’jer in French—pour plenty ice for our Mos’
Hon’able Boss,” commanded the chef, thus placing Johann upon a pedestal
from which he could look down upon all the other members of the crew
thenceforth and forever. For the Oriental had heard the story of the
medals and bowed down in hero worship and named Jo “Mos’ Hon’able Jo”
thereafter. To the delighted Belgian it was as acceptable an honor as
the medal was to “Beel.”