It is needless to follow the corps, step by step, through their
marches; for the names of the little villages through which they
passed would not be found in any maps published in England, and
would therefore possess little interest for English readers. After
two days' long marches, the main body of the corps reached a
village situated in a wood, at about four miles from the great rock
tunnel of Saverne. The fourth company had been left at a village,
five miles to the left; while the third company were, next day, to
march forward to a place at about the same distance to the right.
Their orders were to keep a sharp lookout, to collect news of the
movements and strength of the enemy; but not to undertake any
expedition, or to do anything, whatever, to lead the enemy to guess
at their presence in the neighborhood--as it was of vital
importance that they should not be put upon their guard, until the
great blow was struck.
As soon as they had marched into the village, the principal
inhabitants came forward, and a consultation was held as to
providing lodgings. After some conversation, it was agreed that the
officers should have quarters in the village; and that the
schoolrooms--two in number--should be placed at the disposal of the
men. They were good-sized rooms, and would hold thirty men each,
without difficulty. The company who were to march forward in the
morning were provided with quarters in the village.
Ralph and Percy Barclay, as usual, acted as interpreters between
Major Tempe and the inhabitants; for neither the major, nor any of
his officers, spoke German. That language, indeed, was spoken only
by a few men in the whole corps; and these the commandant had
divided among the other companies, in order that each company might
be able to shift for itself, when separated from the main body.
"Have you seen this proclamation?" one of the villagers asked. "You
see that we are running no little risk, in taking you in."
Ralph read it, and as he did so his face flushed with indignation,
and he exclaimed:
"This is infamous! Infamous!"
"What is it?" Major Tempe asked.
"It is a proclamation from the Prussian General commanding the
district, major, giving notice that he will shoot every franc
tireur he may catch; and also giving notice to the inhabitants that
if any Prussian soldier be killed, or even shot at, by a franc
tireur--if a rail be pulled up, or a road cut--that he will hold
the village near the spot accountable; will burn the houses, and
treat the male inhabitants according to martial law, and that the
same penalties will be exacted for sheltering or hiding franc
tireurs."
"Impossible!" Major Tempe said, astounded. "No officer of a
civilized army could issue such an edict. Besides, during an
invasion of Germany, the people were summoned by the King of
Prussia to take up arms, to cut roads, destroy bridges, and shoot
down the enemy--just as we are going to do, now. It is too
atrocious to be true."
"There it is, in black and white," Ralph said. "There can be no
mistake as to the wording."
Major Tempe looked grieved, as well as indignant.
"This will be a terrible business," he said, "if the war is to be
carried on in this way. Of course, if they give us no quarter, we
shall give them none. That is, we must make as many prisoners as we
can in order that, if any of our men are taken prisoners, we may
carry out reprisals if they shoot them.
"It will, besides this, do us great harm. Naturally, the villagers,
instead of looking upon us as defenders, will regard us as the most
dangerous of guests. They will argue:
"'If we make no resistance, the Prussians may plunder us, but at
least our houses and our lives are safe; whereas if these franc
tireurs are found to have been with us, or if they make any attack
in our neighborhood, we are not only plundered, but burnt out, and
shot!'
"Of course, we are always liable to treachery. There are scoundrels
always to be found who would sell their own mothers, but now even
the most patriotic cannot but feel that they are running an immense
risk in sheltering us.
"Never before, I believe, in the annals of civilized nations, did a
man in authority dare to proclaim that persons should suffer for a
crime with which they had nothing, whatever, to do. If we arrive at
a little village, how are the people to say to us, 'We will not
allow you to pull up a rail!'? And yet, if they do not prevent us,
they are to be punished with fire and sword. And these people call
themselves a civilized nation!
"One of the evil consequences of this proclamation is that we shall
never dare trust to the inhabitants to make inquiries for us. They
will be so alarmed, in case we should attempt anything in their
neighborhood, that they would be sure to do and say everything they
could to dissuade us from it and, if inclined to treachery, might
even try to buy their own safety by betraying us."
Major Tempe was speaking to the other officers, who thoroughly
agreed with his opinion. Ralph and Percy had remained in the room,
in case any further questions might be asked in reference to the
proclamation. They now asked if anything else were required and,
upon a negative answer being given, saluted and took their leave.
It was dusk when they went out and, as they walked towards the
schoolroom, they heard a great tumult of voices raised in anger,
among which they recognized that of Tim Doyle.
"Howld yer jaw, you jabbering apes!" he exclaimed, in great wrath.
"Give me a lantern, or a candle, and let me begone. The boys are
all waiting for me to begin."
Hurrying up, they found Tim surrounded by a few of the principal
inhabitants of the village, and soon learned the cause of the
dispute. Supper was served, but it was too dark to see to eat it;
and Tim--always ready to make himself useful--had volunteered to go
in search of a light. He had in vain used his few words of French
with the villagers he met, and these had at last called the
schoolmaster, the only person in the village who understood French.
This man had addressed Tim first in French and then in German and,
upon receiving no coherent answer in either language, had arrived
at the conclusion that Tim was making fun of them. Hence the
dispute had arisen.
The boys explained matters, and the villagers--whose knowledge of
England was of the very vaguest description; and most of whom,
indeed, had previously believed that all the world spoke either
French or German--were profuse in apologies, and immediately
procured some candles, with which Tim and the boys hastened to the
schoolroom. Two candles were given to each company and--one being
lighted at each end of the room, and stuck upon nails in the
wall--the boys were enabled to see what the place was like.
Clean straw had been littered, a foot deep, down each side of the
room; and fifteen blankets were folded, side by side, along by each
wall. Upon pegs above--meant for the scholars' caps--hung the
haversacks, water bottles, and other accouterments; while the
rifles were piled along the center of the room, leaving space
enough to walk down upon either side, between them and the beds. At
the farther end of the room was a large fireplace, in which a log
fire was blazing; and a small shed, outside, had been converted
into a kitchen.
"We might be worse off than this, a long way, Ralph," said Louis
Duburg, as Ralph took his place on the straw next to him.
"That we might, Louis. The fire looks cheerful, too, and the nights
are getting very cold."
"That they are, Ralph.
"Ah! Here is supper. I am quite ready for that, too."
The men who officiated as cooks--and who, by agreement, had been
released from all night duty in consideration of their regularly
undertaking that occupation--now brought in a large saucepan full
of soup; and each man went up with his canteen, and received his
portion, returning to his bed upon the straw to eat it.
"Anything new, Barclay?" one of the men asked, from the other side
of the room.
"Yes, indeed," Ralph said. "New, and disagreeable. Mind none of you
get taken prisoners, for the Prussian General has issued a
proclamation that he shall shoot all franc tireurs he catches."
"Impossible!" came in a general chorus, from all present.
"Well, it sounds like it, but it is true enough," and Ralph
repeated, word for word, the proclamation which he had translated
to Major Tempe.
As might have been expected, it raised a perfect storm of
indignation; and this lasted until, at nine o'clock, the sergeant
gave the word:
"Lights out."
In the morning, after parade, Ralph and Percy strolled away
together and had a long talk and, at the end of an hour, they
walked to the house where Major Tempe had established his
headquarters.
"Good morning, my friends," he said, as they entered. "Is there
anything I can do for you? Sit down."
"We have been thinking, sir--Percy and I--that we could very easily
dress up as peasants, and go down to Saverne, or anywhere you might
think fit, and find out all particulars as to the strength and
position of the enemy. No one would suspect two boys of being franc
tireurs. It would be unlikely in the extreme that anyone would ask
us any questions and, if we were asked, we should say we belonged
to some village in the mountains, and had come down to buy coffee,
and other necessaries. The risk of detection would be next to
nothing, for we speak German quite well enough to pass for lads
from the mountains."
Major Tempe was silent a minute.
"You know you would be shot, at once, if you were detected."
"No doubt, sir, but there is no reason in the world why we should
be detected. The Prussians can't know everyone by sight, even
within the town itself; and will not notice us, at all. If they do,
our answer is sufficient."
"I tell you frankly, boys, I was thinking only last night of the
matter; but--however much you may make light of it--there is, of
course, a certain amount of danger in acting as spies; and your
father--my friend Captain Barclay--might say to me, if evil came of
it:
"'I gave you my boys to fight for France, and you have sent them to
their death, as spies.'
"So I resolved to say nothing about it."
"But now we have offered, sir, the case is different," Ralph said.
"From our knowledge of the language, and from our age, we are
better fitted than anyone in the corps to perform this service; and
therefore it would be clearly our duty to perform it, were it
greatly more dangerous than it is. Our father said to us, at
starting:
"'Do your duty, boys, whatever the danger.'
"We will see about our clothes--there can be no difficulty about
that, there are several lads in the village whose things would fit
us. Shall we come in this afternoon, for instructions?"
"Thank you, lads," Major Tempe said, warmly. "I trust, with you,
that no harm will come of it. But your offer is of too great
advantage to the corps for me to persist in my refusal."
Upon leaving the quarters of the commandant, the boys went at once
to the house of a farmer a short distance from the village where,
the day before, they had noticed two boys of about their own size.
They explained to the farmer that they wanted to buy of him a suit
of the working clothes of each of his sons. Greatly surprised at
this request, the farmer had inquired what they could possibly want
them for; and Ralph--who thought it better not to trust him with
the secret--replied that, as the Prussian General had given notice
that he should shoot all franc tireurs he might take prisoners,
they wanted a suit of clothes, each, which they might slip on in
case of defeat or danger of capture. The pretense was a plausible
one; and the farmer sold them the required clothes, charging only
about twice their cost, when new.
The boys took the parcel and, instead of returning to the village
direct, they hid it carefully in a wood, at a short distance away.
They then returned and, in the afternoon, received detailed
instructions from Major Tempe.
It was arranged that the matter should be kept entirely secret,
lest any incautious word might be overheard and reported. They were
to start at daybreak, upon the following morning. Their cousins and
Tim Doyle being--alone--taken into their confidence, their friends
regretted much that they could not accompany them, and share their
danger. The boys pointed out however that--even could they have
spoken German fluently--they could not have gone with them as,
although two strangers would excite no attention, whatever, five
would be certain to do so.
The next morning they started together, as if for a walk. Upon
reaching the spot in the wood where the peasants' clothes were
hidden, the boys took off their uniforms--which were wrapped up,
and concealed in the same place--and put on the clothes. They
fitted fairly; and more than that was not necessary, as peasants'
clothes are seldom cut accurately to the figure. Rounding their
shoulders, and walking with a clumping sort of stride, no one would
have imagined that they were other than they pretended to be--two
awkward-looking young Alsatian lads.
They cut two heavy sticks, exchanged a hearty goodbye with their
friends, and started for Saverne. Two hours later they were walking
in its streets; staring into the shop windows, and at everything
that was going on, with the open-mouthed curiosity of two young
country lads. Then they made a few purchases--some coffee, sugar,
and pepper--tied them in a colored pocket handkerchief, and then
went into a small cabaret--where they saw some German soldiers
drinking--sat down at a table, and called for some bread and cheese
and beer.
While they were taking them, they listened to the conversation of
the soldiers. The only information that they gleaned from it was
that the men seemed to have no expectation, whatever, of any early
movement; and that they were heartily sick of the monotony of the
place, and the hard work of patrolling the line of railway, night
and day. Presently the soldiers paid for their beer, and left; and
some of the townspeople came in, and took the places they had left.
Their conversation, of course, turned on the Prussian occupation,
and deep were the curses heaped upon the invaders. The only thing
mentioned in their favor was the smallness of their number. There
were not over two hundred men; and this amount weighed but lightly
upon Saverne, compared with the fifty, sixty, or a hundred
quartered at every little village along the line of railway.
The boys had now learned what they most wanted to know and, paying
for their refreshment, went out again into the street. Then they
walked to the railway station--where they saw several soldiers, on
guard--and then set off to a point where they could see the
entrance to the tunnel. There two soldiers were on guard; while
others were stationed, at short distances, all along the line.
The boys now went up to a wood whence, unseen themselves, they
could watch the trains passing. They came along nearly every half
hour; immensely long trains, filled with stores of all kinds. As it
became dusk, they saw a body of Prussian soldiers marching down the
line; relieving the sentries, and placing fresh ones at distances
of little more than fifty yards apart. These marched backwards and
forwards, until they met each other; then returning, until they
faced their comrade at the other end of their beat.
"We can be off now, Percy," Ralph said, rising. "Our news is bad,
for it will be by no means so easy to cut the line as we had
expected. These weasels won't be very easily caught asleep."
"No, indeed," Percy said. "The idea of cutting the line sounded so
easy, when we were at a distance; but it is quite a different
matter, now we are here."
Upon their return they found--with some difficulty--the place where
they had hidden their uniforms; again changed clothes, and
then--carrying those they had just taken off, made up into
bundles--they re-entered the village, and went straight to
headquarters.
Major Tempe was at dinner with the other officers, and received
them with great pleasure; for he had been anxious, all day, lest
any misfortune might befall them. Finding that they had had nothing
to eat, since early in the morning, he at once invited them to sit
down to dinner; for military discipline is far less strict in these
matters, in France, than it is in England; and among the corps of
franc tireurs especially--as among the English volunteers, where
the private is in many cases equal to, or superior to, his officer
in social standing--the difference of rank is very much put aside,
except on duty.
"And you say that they have a sentinel at every fifty or sixty
yards, along the line?" Major Tempe said, when Ralph had given an
account of their day's investigation. "That appears, to me, to be
fatal to our plans."
"Why so?" Lieutenant de Maupas--who commanded the first
company--asked. "It seems to me that nothing could be easier.
Suppose we fell upon any given point, the sentries near it would be
at once killed, or made prisoners; and even allowing--as young
Barclay says--that there are troops in all the villages, it would
be a good half hour before a force, sufficient to disturb us, could
arrive."
"That is true enough," Major Tempe answered. "But what could we do,
in half an hour? We might pull up two hundred yards of rail. What
real advantage would be gained by that? The line of sentries along
the rail would, by firing their rifles, pass the news ten miles, in
half as many minutes; and the trains would be stopped long before
they arrived at the break. Each train carries, I know, workmen and
materials for repairing the line; and as it would be impossible for
us to carry away the rails, after pulling them up, they would be
replaced in as short a time as it took us to tear them up; and the
consequence would be that the traffic would only be suspended for
an hour or two, at most. For a break to be of any real utility,
whatever, it must last for days, if not for weeks.
"The great coup, of course, would be the destruction of the rock
tunnel of Saverne, which was the special object of our presence
here. Failing that, we must try a bridge. The tunnel, however, is
the great affair. Once destroyed, there would be no repairing it,
for many weeks. My proposition is, therefore, that we turn our
attention at once to that point."
There was a general murmur of assent.
"The best course would be for Hardin's company to march direct to
the other end of the tunnel, seize it, and prevent interference
from that end; while the others then seize the Saverne end, and
hold it while preparations are made for blowing it up. Then, when
the match is lighted, fall back--if possible--before the arrival of
heavy bodies of the enemy."
"Nothing could be better," Lieutenant de Maupas exclaimed, and the
other officers agreed with him.
"What day do you propose for the movement?"
"The day after tomorrow, at daybreak," Major Tempe said. "That will
give us plenty of time to send orders to the other two companies;
and the sooner it is done, the better."
The conference was about to break up, when the surgeon--who had
listened in silence--said:
"The general plan is simple enough but, tell me, how do you propose
to set about blowing the tunnel up? You may be able to hold it for
half an hour, at most. How do you think of proceeding?"
Major Tempe and his officers looked at each other. They had not, as
yet, thought the matter over; but the instant it was put plainly
before them, they saw the difficulty.
"Oh," Lieutenant de Maupas said, confidently, "we shall, of course,
put the nitroglycerine somewhere in the middle of the tunnel, and
blow the whole affair up."
Lieutenant de Maupas had been a sailor; and his quickness of
decision and go-ahead, straight-forward way of doing everything
made him, at once, a favorite and an amusement to the men; who had
nicknamed him "Grande Vitesse," or, as we should say in English,
the "Express."
"I am afraid the matter is rather more difficult than you imagine,
De Maupas," Major Tempe said, with a smile. "This is in
Ribouville's way; as he was in the Engineers, he will know all
about it."
The officer named, however, did not reply for some little time; but
sat with his head on his hand, in deep thought.
"I feel ashamed to own it," he said, at last; "but I really do not
know how one could set about the matter so as to have a chance of
really destroying the tunnel, after so short a time for
preparation. Were the tunnel an ordinary, brick-lined tunnel, the
proposition of De Maupas--slightly modified--would no doubt have
the effect of bringing down the brick lining, and the earth behind
would fall in, of itself; but with a tunnel cut in the solid rock,
it would be difficult. The natural strength of the tunnel would be
so great that the force of the explosion would simply be lost,
through the ends. It might or might not bring down a few masses of
rock, but one could not rely upon it doing even that.
"If I had time, the matter would be easy enough. I should make a
deep chamber in the solid rock, at the side of the tunnel; insert
my charge, and then tamp or fasten it in, with masonry. This would
ensure its destruction, at the point of explosion; but I have no
hope of any great damage being done, by merely putting two barrels
of nitroglycerine down upon the line, and then firing them. I can
assure you the point mooted by the doctor is more serious and, as
far as I see at present, I could do nothing in half an hour which
would, in any way, ensure the destruction of the tunnel. To make
such a chamber as I speak of to hold two barrels of nitroglycerine
would be the work of four or five days, working night and day--even
with the aid of powder--and of course, it would be out of the
question to hope for as many hours."
There was a pause of consternation, as Lieutenant Ribouville spoke.
Here was the end of the grand scheme, from which they had expected
so much. At this time, the Germans had no other line of rail at
their command; and the destruction of the tunnel would have been a
disaster, equal to that of the loss of a pitched battle.
"There would be no chance, would there, of our hiding in the woods
under which the tunnel runs; so as to bore down to it, and blow it
in from above?" Major Tempe asked.
"None whatever. The depth to be bored would be considerable. The
stone is hard, and it could not be pierced without the use of
powder, which would betray our presence; and even could we use it,
and were the men all good miners, it would be a work of months, at
the very least."
There was a silence for some minutes, and then the commandant said:
"We cannot give it up, without a trial. Think it over, Ribouville,
for the next three or four days. You may be able to pitch upon some
plan. If you cannot do so, we must at least try the experiment of
exploding our nitroglycerine in the middle of the tunnel--or, at
any rate, as far in as we can carry it--and make our retreat in the
half hour, which is all the time we can calculate upon holding the
entrance."