Recaptured
FULLY expecting to be challenged and seized by an unseen foe,
Hamerton grasped the metal slide with the intention of making a dash
for liberty. As he did so the cover slipped on its groove and closed
the aperture, jamming the Sub's fingers as it did so.
The pain was acute, but for the time being Hamerton paid slight heed
to it. His fingers, numbed by the shock, were powerless to reopen the
heavy metal cover.
Yet no hands grasped his, no hoarse voice demanded his surrender. He
looked down over his shoulder, and the cause of the sudden light
became apparent. In his descent he had touched a switch that was
conveniently fixed to a steel upright supporting the dome. Perfect
silence reigned in the place, whatever it might be.
Disengaging his fingers, Hamerton descended the remaining rungs of
the ladder. He realized that the accident was a blessing in disguise,
for the slamming-to of the cover plate had effectually screened all
light from within. Previous to this some light might have escaped,
unless intercepted by his body as he crawled through the manhole.
The chamber was almost entirely occupied by the mountings of an
enormous gun. The muzzle of the weapon disappeared behind a
close-fitting steel shield that effectually prevented any light from
being seen from seaward. It also prevented the Sub from approximately
measuring the length of the gun, but upon opening the breech block he
was able to conclude that the bore was not less than fifteen or
sixteen inches. The gun and its enclosed shield were of a
disappearing nature, while the loading tray was so constructed that
the huge weapon could be served in any position.
At the rear of the loading tray was another opening that upon
investigation Hamerton found to lead to the mechanism room for
elevating the gun and its mounting. Here, too, was the opening to a
subterranean passage, but the door was locked. Judging by the tram
rails, the Sub concluded that it communicated with the principal
magazine, that must be situated, deep under the ground, somewhere in
the centre of the island.
"The whole blessed island is honeycombed," he exclaimed. "It's a
second Gibraltar, only much more heavily armed. What a nut for us to
crack when the time comes!"
Realizing that it was about time to rejoin his companion, the Sub
ascended the ladder, switched off the light, and cautiously removed
the slide. The exertion told him how painful his fingers had become,
while he was forcibly reminded of his fall by a peculiar numbing
sensation in the nape of his neck.
Without, the monotonous click of the signal lamp in the hut still
continued. The searchlight was now switched on, but the operators had
made a bad contact of the carbons, for the latter were hissing and
spluttering abominably. This was in the Sub's favour, for the
attention of the engineers was directed upon their work, and the
noise of the searchlights effectually drowned the slight scraping
sound that Hamerton made as he attempted to scale the walls of the
gun pit.
Thrice he essayed the task. Under ordinary conditions a six-foot wall
would have presented no great obstacle, but his strength had been
sapped by his two accidents.
Round the edge of the dome he crept, till at the part facing the sea
he discovered an iron ladder sunk in a recess in the wall, so as not
to impede the raising of the armoured gun shield and its contents.
Gaining the top of the wall Hamerton began to crawl back towards the
place where he had left Detroit. He had little fear of detection from
the searchlight men: his danger lay in the fact that upon crossing
the beam of light from the open door his silhouetted figure might be
seen by a vigilant sentry.
Fortunately his misgivings were not materialized, and without
incident he crawled to the place where his anxious comrade was
impatiently waiting.
"A sixteen-inch gun over there," whispered the Sub excitedly. "A
regular brute. Tumbled right on top of the anti-aircraft shield."
"Hurt yourself?"
"Only shaken a bit. Come on, it's about time we thought of something
to eat. It was a quarter past one when I was in the gunpit."
"What's the programme?" asked Detroit.
"Make for the nearest house. We'll try our hands at amateur
burglaring. If we keep midway between the fence and the edge of the
cliff we ought to pass halfway between the double row of sentries."
It took the daring fugitives the best part of an hour to arrive at
the lighthouse, a circular white tower--showing two powerful electric
lights every five seconds--rising to a height of two hundred and
seventy feet above the sea level. In a recent notice to mariners
issued by the German Government it was stated that the lights were
liable not to be shown during the manoeuvres, and plainly hinted that
all merchant vessels should keep as far away as possible.
A few feet from the base of the tower stood the lighthouse-keepers'
houses. The light was attended by German marines, since the fiat had
gone forth that civilians were not to hold any Government post in the
island of Heligoland. The keepers, with their wives and families,
still occupied the same quarters as their predecessors, instead of
living in barracks.
The problem now before Hamerton and his companion was which of the
six houses was to be honoured by their attentions. It would be rather
awkward to fix upon one where the keeper was spending his off-duty
hours; in fact, an alarm raised in any one of them would inevitably
bring speedy aid. But the reason why Hamerton decided upon the
lighthouse quarters at all was that their comparative isolation made
it easier to escape.
All the houses were in darkness. Crouching close to the ground, lest
their dark figures should show up against the whitewashed walls, the
two men crept from window to window, cautiously trying the
fastenings.
At the fifth one Hamerton paused.
"Empty," he whispered. "We're in luck; we'll try the end house."
It was now raining heavily, while around that exposed position the
wind howled dismally. Hardly a night for a dog to be out, yet here
were two men of good social position groping in the rainswept mire in
their quest for food and liberty.
Hamerton raised himself and peered through one of the windows. A fire
burned in the open grate, a dull-red pile of coals. The Sub rightly
concluded that it had not been touched for several hours. By its
glare he could see rows of well-scoured highly-polished metal pots
and pans, doubtless the pride of a thrifty German housewife; and,
what was more pleasing, a couple of shelves on which stood bread,
cold meat, cheese, and a glass jug half filled with an amber-coloured
liquid.
On either side of the fireplace two high-backed chairs were drawn up.
Both were in shadow, being shielded from the glow of the embers by an
outstanding oak mantelpiece. In front of the grate stood a large iron
pot, its contents still simmering gently. The Sub could almost
imagine that he smelt the savoury odours.
He tried the window. It was secured by a heavy metal catch. Nothing
short of breaking a pane of glass would enable him to force an
entrance. The sight of the eatables was wellnigh irresistible.
"Try the back," whispered Detroit hoarsely.
Here, sheltered from the wind and rain, the two chums discovered that
a small window had been left unsecured. In a trice Detroit was up on
the Sub's back and was through the narrow opening. Hamerton could not
have done it to save his life, for his whole body was aching
painfully. He had perforce to wait until the American stealthily
unlocked the door.
Hamerton's first act was to draw a curtain over the window, then the
two famished men began to wolf the eatables, standing close to the
fire to enjoy the comforting glow, the while reckless of the
consequences, for their clothes were steaming like a hard-pressed
horse on a frosty day.
Suddenly Hamerton touched the American on the shoulder and held up a
warning finger. Overhead was a scuffling sound; then thud, thud, the
noise of a heavy person descending the stairs.
Their retreat was cut off. Hamerton crouched behind one of the
armchairs, Detroit took refuge under the table, and there they
waited, hoping that the newcomer would not notice the depletion of
the larder.
The click of the key in the lock and the rasping of the bolts told
them that either the occupier of the house had imagined that the door
had been accidentally left unsecured, or else that there were
nocturnal intruders--and "the cat was out of the bag".
Alas for the first theory! The electric light was switched on, and
from his place of concealment Hamerton could see the skirts and big
carpet slippers of a portly female.
One glance was sufficient to show the woman that thieves had been at
work. Stooping, she peered under the table, and Detroit's eyes met
those of one of the fattest women he had ever seen.
Without raising a shout the woman made a dart for a rifle that stood
in the corner. This she accomplished with considerable agility
considering her bulk.
In one corner of the dresser were several loose cartridges. It was
towards these the woman waddled.
"Stop her," hissed Hamerton, springing from his place of concealment.
He was in time to grab the keeper's wife and prevent her from
obtaining the ammunition, while Detroit grasped the rifle.
Then ensued a long struggle. The woman was powerful and determined,
the intruders, loath to harm a female, did their best to wrench the
rifle from her without exercising brute force. And the curious part
about it was that the woman from first to last never called for help.
Finding he could not gain possession of the weapon, the Sub deftly
extracted the bolt and thrust it into his pocket.
"Be sharp, Detroit," he exclaimed. "Unlock that door. That's right.
Now help me to secure this lady. She's deaf and dumb, poor creature.
Hand up that curtain cord. You tie her ankles while I keep her from
hitting you over the head with this rifle."
It was easier said than done. The woman resisted bravely, but at
length the American succeeded in passing the cord round her ankles
and drawing it tight. Then by their united efforts the two men
lowered her gently on to the stone floor.
"Now let's cut," said Hamerton. "If anyone in the next house but one
heard the scuffle---- Put the top of that loaf in your pocket before
you go."
Into the blinding rain the fugitives made their way, pausing under
the lee of a low stone wall in order to get accustomed to the
darkness.
"Now there'll be a rumpus," whispered Detroit. "The best thing we can
do is to get back to our quarters under the turntable. Since the
place is well guarded they won't expect to find us there, especially
as they're bound to know that we've been pillaging one of the
keepers' cottages."
"That's so," assented Hamerton. "Plucky old woman, that. She would
have used that rifle if she had managed to get hold of those
cartridges."
"She has, I guess!" exclaimed the American, starting to his feet as a
loud report came from the house they had just left. The housewife,
unable to make herself heard, had contrived to raise herself by means
of the table, seize a cartridge, and throw it on the fire.
"Run for it," hissed the Sub. "We must risk it."
Keeping the lighthouse on their right the fugitives bolted, their one
idea being to put a respectable distance between them and the
keepers. Already lights were appearing in the cottages and a babel of
shouts arose, men enquiring what was amiss, and offering various
suggestions as to the cause of the alarm.
Soon the deaf-and-dumb woman was released, and by means of signs told
how she had been molested by the two English spies.
With that there was a general exodus. The keepers, intent upon
winning the reward issued for the escaped prisoners' arrest, seized
their rifles and started in pursuit. Not having the faintest notion
of the direction the fugitives had taken, they naturally concluded
that they had made for the Unterland in the hope of being able to
seize a boat. All this while Hamerton and Detroit were making towards
the circular fence surrounding the Zeppelin station.
"Easy!" whispered the Sub, when they were nearly abreast of Spitz
Horn. "We'll be tumbling upon the sentries if we are not careful.
They have been warned for a dead cert."
Before Detroit could reply a tall, dark figure loomed up directly in
front of them. A levelled bayonet glinted dully in the dim light and
a guttural voice bade them stand on the pain of being instantly shot
down if they resisted.
Oswald Detroit had not been a full back of his college team to no
purpose. With a sudden panther-like spring he threw himself upon the
ground right under the levelled bayonet.
The sentry made a bold attempt to shorten his weapon and lunge at his
antagonist. He was the fraction of a second too late. The American's
steel-like fingers gripped him round the ankles. His bunched head and
shoulders caught the German a tremendous battering-ram-like blow just
above the knees.
Swept off his feet by the impetus, the sentry fell heavily on the
ground. As he fell his finger involuntarily pressed the trigger of
his rifle. There was a deafening report. The bullet whizzed close to
Hamerton's ear, while he clearly felt the blast of the detonation.
The sentry, stunned by the fall, lay like a log.
There was not a moment to be lost. The man's comrades, already on the
qui vive, saw the flash and heard the report. The nearmost of the
cordon ran to support the fellow who had raised the alarm.
Throwing themselves on the ground the Sub and his companion crawled
in a direction that was practically at right angles to the imaginary
line between the two nearest sentries. As they did so they heard the
swish of a man's boots shearing through the long, damp grass.
Once more luck was in their favour, for the oncoming sentry passed
them within a distance of ten yards. So intent was he upon finding
his comrade that the two men lying prone upon the ground were
unobserved.
With an exclamation of dismay and astonishment the German stooped
over the body of the insensible soldier. Others came running up, and
in the darkness one called attention to a dark object fifty yards or
so from him, moving cautiously in the direction of the lighthouse.
Half a dozen shots rang out. The object, whatever it was, gave a
convulsive spring and collapsed, kicking in its death agonies.
Off ran the sentries to investigate. They had shot a goat that had
strayed from one of the adjacent gardens!
This diversion enabled the fugitives to gain the fence without
detection, wriggle under the lowermost barbed wire, and find a
temporary respite on the unpatrolled area between the entanglement
and the brink of the Zeppelin pit.
With considerable difficulty the American located the topmost rungs
of one of the vertical ladders.
"Guess I'll go first," he whispered. "You feel game?"
"Yes," replied the Sub grimly, yet he knew that he had hardly an
ounce of strength left.
"Follow on," continued Detroit. "If you feel fagged, give me the word
and I'll hang on to you while you rest."
Although the descent entailed considerable less exertion than the
ascent a few hours before, Hamerton could hardly retain his grasp
upon the slippery steel rungs. His downward motion was purely
mechanical. His joints seemed so stiff that a sharp racking pain shot
through his shoulders every time he lowered an arm to find the next
rung.
"Here's the horizontal platform," whispered Detroit. "We'll rest
awhile."
"No, carry on," begged the Sub, "if I stop I'm afraid I won't be able
to continue. It's only another fifty feet or so."
"All right!" replied his comrade dubiously. "But, say, shall I carry
you down? hang on my back."
"I'm too heavy," objected Hamerton. "Carry on. It will soon be over."
Suddenly Detroit came to a halt, groping aimlessly with his foot for
the next rung.
"Hold on!" he hissed. "There's some low-down trick here."
Gripping one side of the ladder as far down as he could he felt with
his free hand. The disconcerting discovery that the lowermost section
of the ladder had been removed came as a sudden and nerve-racking
shock.
"Up we go," he exclaimed, with false cheerfulness. "We've struck the
wrong ladder. It ends here. We've only to get back to the horizontal
platform."
Retracing that twenty feet was almost beyond Hamerton's strength. Had
it not been for his companion's aid the Sub would certainly have
relaxed his hold. Utterly exhausted, he threw himself upon the light,
steel bridge connecting the vertical ladders, and shivered through
sheer weakness and bodily anguish.
"Stay here," continued Detroit. "I'll go on a little tour of
investigation. When I come back I'll rub your wrists and ankles, and
then we'll make short work of getting to the ground."
Stepping over Hamerton's body the American made his way along the
face of the cliff. He was filled with vague fears. Something seemed
to tell him that all three ladders had been tampered with.
Just as he gained the part of the bridge immediately above the
opening of one of the Zeppelin sheds, every arc lamp in the pit was
instantaneously lighted.
Blinded by the sudden and powerful glare the American stopped
stockstill, grasping the light handrail, and vainly attempting to
shield his eyes from the intense brilliance of a lamp just beneath
the place where he stood.
Voices hailed him in an unknown tongue. Their import was plain
enough: it was a peremptory summons to surrender.
He removed his hand from his eyes. He could now see, though
indistinctly. Fifty feet beneath him and as many yards from the base
of the cliff stood a squad of marines with levelled rifles. Behind
them were three or four officers who had demanded his instant
submission.
Detroit had sense enough to realize that the game was up. He raised
his hands in token of surrender, then deliberately made his way back
to where Hamerton stood.
Luckily for him the officers saw his object, and forbore to order
their men to fire. Several sailors came running up, bearing the
displaced section of the ladder. This they placed in position, and
half a dozen of them swarmed up to seize their prisoners.
"It's the fortune of war, old man," exclaimed Hamerton feebly, "but
we've had a very good innings."