At the Frontier
A prey to the wildest apprehensions, Malcolm Carr flattened himself
on his hard, uneven bed. Rapidly he debated as to his course of
action; whether to regain his feet and throw himself upon the two
men before they had time to recover from their surprise, or to keep
perfectly still in the hope that he would be unnoticed. He could
hear Peter shifting his position, ready to join in the imminent
struggle.
"Wer da?" shouted a guttural voice from the window of the house
across the canal. Immediately after came the "pluff" of an air-gun
being discharged, and a pellet thudded against a post on the
tow-path.
With muttered exclamations the two men took to their heels, while
the watchers, leaving their post at the window, ran downstairs,
presently to reappear accompanied by a large dog.
For a moment or two they stood looking across the canal at the
barge; then, calling the animal to heel, they walked rapidly in the
direction of a bridge about a quarter of a mile away.
"This is too hot a show for us, Malcolm," whispered Peter, as he
emerged from his hiding-place. "That dog will be our undoing. Those
fellows are evidently crossing the canal to inspect the barge in
case the thieves have had time to take anything."
Clearly it was too risky to land and run across the fields; the dog
would track the fugitives with the greatest ease. The question was
how they were to put the animal off the scent in the brief time that
remained before the watchmen, or whoever they might be, arrived upon
the scene.
"You said you were thirsty," continued Peter grimly. "Now's your
chance. Overboard and hang to the rudder."
Silently the fugitives lowered themselves into the water, and,
swimming cautiously, gained the slight protection afforded by the
bluff overhang of the boat's quarter and long, projecting rudder.
Hanging on to a chain, and keeping in the shadow, the brothers
awaited developments, knowing that if the now open entrance to their
dug-out were spotted, suspicion would be diverted from the marauders
to them. Since the news of the escape of a numerous body of
prisoners from Düren must have been sent far and wide, the inference
that the barge had been a hiding-place for some of their number was
obvious.
Up came the two watchmen, breathing stentorously, for they were
middle-aged and corpulent. They were in uniform; each was armed with
an air-rifle and a short sword.
Malcolm could hear them walking along the barge, testing the locks
of the fore and after cuddies, and examining the metal fittings of
the winch and the tiller-head. One of the men even flashed an
electric torch over the side, but it was a purely perfunctory
action. Meanwhile the dog was sniffing on the track of the would-be
thieves, and made no attempt to go farther than the spot where the
men had been brought up by the canal official's hail.
Finally, after a considerable amount of argument, the watchmen
whistled the dog, regained the tow-path, and walked briskly in the
direction the marauders had gone.
"Peter," whispered his brother, "I'm a silly ass!"
"Eh?"
"I forgot about my ration when I went overboard. It's sopping wet."
"So's mine," added Peter. "I took mine deliberately. It couldn't be
helped. If we'd left the stuff on the barge that dog would have
discovered it. A packet with the word 'London' printed on it would
give the show away absolutely. For one thing, the stuff's been
soaking in fresh water."
"And so have I," rejoined Malcolm. "At any rate, my thirst is
quenched, and we have to spend the rest of the night in wet
clothes."
"I'm going to try my hand at house robbery," announced Peter.
"Although I couldn't understand all the conversation between those
two fellows, I managed to learn that they decided to go to the
nearest village and get the police to make enquiries of the
whereabouts of a certain Karl Hoeffer--evidently one of the two men
who gave us an unpleasant five minutes. You're not to come; this is
a one-man job. Make your way back to our hiding-place, wring out
your wet clothes--over the coal, mind--and wait till I come back."
Malcolm knew that his elder brother's word was law in such matters.
It was useless to expostulate. As he regained the barge he could
just discern Peter's figure creeping up the opposite bank of the
canal.
In ten minutes Peter was back again with the best part of a rye
loaf, a large sausage, and a piece of cheese, all wrapped up in a
couple of blankets.
"'Nuff said!" he remarked. "Wrap yourself up and eat. I'll tell you
about it later."
The blankets were dry and comforting, the food really appetizing,
and, having made a satisfying meal, the brothers slept soundly after
forty hours of unceasing vigilance.
As Peter had expected, he experienced no serious difficulty on his
foraging expedition. The house was deserted, but by means of a
stack-pipe he entered by the open window at which the watchmen had
been sitting. Having raided the pantry, the New Zealander removed a
blanket from each of two separate beds, taking care that outwardly
the beds appeared undisturbed. To cross the canal without wetting
the food and blankets he swam back with the spoils held over his
head. By the time the things were missed, the barge, with ordinary
luck, ought to be miles away.
With the first streak of dawn the sleepers awoke, feeling greatly
refreshed. Malcolm had taken the precaution to fill a tin with water
from the canal. The liquid was fresh to a certain degree, and men
who have served in the trenches are not fastidious.
The main point was that the fugitives would be able to quench their
thirst during the heat of the day. Their wet clothes were spread out
against the wall of their retreat, so that the heat of the sun's
rays, penetrating the absorbent coal, would dry them sufficiently
for the men before nightfall.
Shortly after sunrise the remaining barges of the flotilla, which
had been tied up for the night at some distance along the canal,
came up and passed the solitary craft. Before her crew returned with
the horse, the previously leading barge became the last of the
group.
The second day passed much like the first, except that the heat was
not so trying, and that the men in hiding did not suffer from
thirst.
About four o'clock in the afternoon of the next day a longer halt
than usual occurred. Making use of their observation-holes the
stowaways saw that the craft had tied up alongside another barge
which was fast to a long quay. Beyond was a row of tall,
quaintly-built houses with picturesque red-tiled roofs and fronted
by a line of closely-trimmed trees. Nearly fifty people were
lounging about, regarding the new arrival with curious interest,
while on the adjoining barge stood about a dozen men in grimy
overalls, with planks, barrows, and spades, in readiness to commence
work.
Like ants the coal-heavers swarmed over the heaped-up cargo,
shovelling the coal into barrows and trundling them along the planks
on to the quay, whence they disappeared into a large shed about a
hundred yards away.
With feelings of satisfaction the New Zealanders saw that the
for'ard portion of the cargo was the first to be dealt with, and
that, before the man with the first load returned with his empty
barrow, five others were on the way, leaving six on board.
"No use waiting to be dug out," whispered Peter. "Now's our chance,
if at all."
With a mighty heave of his shoulders Peter sent the barrel staves
and their superimposed covering of coal flying. Before the
coal-heavers could grasp what was happening, the two men leapt
across the intervening barge and gained the quay.
With lowered heads they charged straight for the nearmost of the
waterside idlers.
Right and left scattered the dumbfounded spectators, and without any
attempt at obstruction the fugitives gained the open and
unfrequented part of the quay.
Not until they had put fifty yards between them and the barge did
the onlookers grasp the situation, then, joined by the coal-heavers,
who had abandoned their task, the whole crowd started in pursuit,
yelling loudly in an unintelligible manner.
At the end of the quay the main street bore off to the left, and
from that point there were houses on both sides. Those on the right
had gardens of gradually-increasing length running down to the
canal, which was here a considerably wide waterway. Everywhere along
the canal wharves were barges, often double- and triple-tiered, but
alongside the waterside edges of the gardens were several small
pleasure-craft. Every house seemed to possess one. Another thing
Peter noticed was that the nearmost of the houses on the canal side
of the street was separated from the quay by a supplementary
waterway that burrowed under the road.
Along the cobbled street the two men ran, Passers-by stood
stock-still in amazement. A grey-coated policeman drew his sabre and
attempted to bar the way, shouting peremptorily in a manner that
clearly indicated "Stop!"
"In here!" exclaimed Peter, and literally bundled his brother into
an open doorway, then slammed and bolted the door.
"We've five minutes fresh start at least," he said hurriedly. "Come
along through. There's a boat at the end of the garden."
Even as they made their way through a spotlessly-clean kitchen, to
the consternation of a portly woman-servant, Malcolm could not help
noticing the resplendant copper vessels on the shelves. Evidently
the owner of the house had not conformed to the Imperial German
Government's order to surrender all metal suitable for the
manufacture of munitions.
At the farther part of the garden two men were sitting at a table.
One was a rotund pleasant-faced man of about fifty who was puffing
sedately at a long-stemmed, huge-bowled pipe. The other, holding a
large cigar in his hand, was certainly not far off sixty years of
age, clean-shaven, 'and dressed in a manner more like an Englishman
than a German. Before the smokers could rise from their seats the
two fugitives were past and dropping over the low wall into a boat.
"Push off, Malcolm!" shouted Peter, as he gripped the oars.
"What's your hurry, you fellows?" asked a deliberately cool voice
from above. "Can't you behave yourselves in a neutral country?
What's the trouble?"
Leaning on the wall, his grey eyes twinkling with suppressed mirth,
was the elder of the two men who had been sitting in the garden. At
his elbow was the other, gesticulating and protesting volubly at the
bull-in-a-chinashop tactics of the intruders.
"Neutral country?" repeated the astounded Peter. "What do you mean?
Where are we?"
"In Holland. To be more precise, in the town of Roermonde," was the
surprising information. "You've done a bunk from Germany, I presume?
I thought so. It's all right, Mynheer van Enkhuizen," he continued
in English, addressing the Dutchman; "these are some of my
compatriots who have escaped from Germany."
"In that case it does matter not at all," replied the owner of the
house in the slow hesitating manner of foreign-spoken English. "It
is of no consequence that your friends have trampled through my
dwelling and over my garden. Excuse me. I will inform the noisy
crowd also that it is not of any consequence, and then I will
instruct Katje to provide food for your military friends."
"Come into the house," exclaimed the Englishman. "I'll hear your
story presently, although I presume you are two of the men who got
away from Düren. Eight of them have crossed the frontier up to the
present, and I shouldn't be surprised if others do the same in the
course of the next few days. My name? Oh, just Brown--of London!
Yes, that will be all right. Von Enkhuizen, although his manner may
seem a bit erratic according to British notions, is a genuinely
sympathetic fellow. You've fallen on your feet, both of you."
For three days the two refugees enjoyed the Dutchman's hospitality.
Then the Carrs were furnished with money and a ticket to enable them
to travel via the Hook of Holland to England; and, with many earnest
expressions of gratitude to their benefactors, Peter and Malcolm set
out on their roundabout journey back to the firing-line in Flanders.