AT THE RUINED CHATEAU
Having found the man they were searching for and in so perilous a
situation, neither Blaine nor Bangs wasted time. If Erwin was
crippled, so much the greater reason for them to relieve him. Only by
direct attack could this be accomplished, if at all. Though the
Archies were now roaring more than ever, Blaine and his observer, both
machine guns pointed f or instant action, started straight at the
pursuing planes. Buck was with him at a convenient distance.
Instantly the rattle of their guns pattered out in the air as a
fusillade of bullets was showered at the foe.
The determined maneuvers of the new arrivals evidently daunted the
Huns. One of them immediately turned tail. The other tried to do so
but was intercepted by Blaine who, making an absolutely nervy
side-loop, came up under the Fokker and began again discharging a
deadly rain of bullets.
But one source of refuge was left the German. Up, up he climbed.
Being cut off from retreat towards his own lines, he struck straight
across towards No-Man's-Land with the big biplane full pursuit and
still firing.
Meantime Bangs took after the other, bringing it down under a detached
fire from the Archies who were naturally more cautious now in firing,
owing to the fear of hitting one of their own planes. Still they found
chances to pepper the little Nieuport in which Bangs was darting to and
fro like a hawk after a chicken. But before the Fokker was sent down,
Buck knew that his own wings were seriously perforated. As yet his
fuselage and tank, his engine and machinery were unhurt.
Without waiting to note the fate of his opponent, Bangs turned nimbly
and struck out westward, following the crippled scout wherein was the
man they had set out to find and rescue.
"I'll stick by Orry," was Buck's conclusion. "I guess Blaine and
Stanley can take care of that other chap. I wonder where the rest of
the Huns are. We are in the rear lines and there should be more
Fokkers or Taubes around."
This query was soon answered. Ranging alongside Erwin, but not too
near, Buck megaphoned as follows:
"How you getting on anyhow? Had a hell of a time findin' you. Didn't
find you any too soon, eh?"
Erwin's replies were unimportant except that he was so crippled that he
must get back to the base, or at least alight somewhere soon or he,
would not be able to fly at all.
"Bent piston rods," he also phoned. "And I'm afraid my main propeller
shaft has gone wrong somehow."
"All right," returned Bangs. "I'll stick with you. Hullo! What's the
matter with Blaine and his man?"
At this juncture the big biplane that had been pursuing the Fokker
suddenly ducked, dove far beneath his adversary and came up on the
opposing side, at the same time peppering the Hun with machine gun
explosive bullets.
The Fokker almost stopped and appeared to tremble. Both Bangs and
Erwin saw that some serious internal injury had occurred. The German
was furiously at work within his manhole, leaving the plane much to its
own devices.
So patent was this that Buck, who was nearest, shot upward and let
drive at the Hun from below. But instead of giving heed to this new
attack, the Hun now recovered, shot off to the right and began climbing
rapidly. Bangs, in accord with his resolve to stick to Erwin, did not
follow, but Blaine did, at the same time megaphoning to both Buck and
Orris as follows:
"I've been up higher than you fellows. There's a number of planes off
in the sou'west. Gettin' so dark could hardly tell 'em apart. Better
stick together and watch out!"
Though the Archies were now quite out of range, night was so near at
hand that this seemed good policy. Blaine now added:
"I'm goin' to give that Fokker another round. Be back with you in a
minute." Then on he went after the German.
What ensued was rather puzzling to both Bangs and Erwin. Blaine was
now evidently faster than the German, whose machine had apparently
sustained some internal injury. They saw the biplane close in on the
Hun amid a rapid fire of bullets from each at the other.
All at once the Hun began sidling irregularly towards the earth. By
this time both the others, having risen somewhat, caught glimpses
through their field glasses of a number of nearing planes winging from
the west. Below, as far as could be seen, stretched No-Man's-Land.
Behind was a growing blackness that denoted approaching night. To both
Bangs' and Erwin's astonishment, the biplane, instead of returning, was
pointing downward after the crippled Fokker.
Then from the north whirled a sea-fog that presently enveloped all,
obliterating what remained of light, hiding even Blaine and the
adversary he had pursued. It was strange, mysterious.
Erwin, who was lower than the others, here saw the crumbling walls and
towers of what had once been an old baronial chateau. Near this the
biplane had landed. No sign just then of the Fokker, though that must
have descended also, for the machine or the man in it was undoubtedly
injured. Erwin grabbed his megaphone, shouting up at Buck hovering
near, "I'm going down. Blaine's already landed. Come on!"
But for some reason Bangs declined. Being higher up, he had detected
signs of those other planes invisible to those below.
"Go on down," he shouted. "I want to do a little scouting." And off
he flew, determined all at once to find out who and what might be
approaching. But his purpose was defeated by the onrush of the fog,
that thickened still more, while those landed below were equally
invisible to Buck.
However having a general idea as to the direction best for him to take,
he turned that way after recklessly feeling out in vain for further
sight of the approaching squadron. Here we will leave him for the
present.
When Erwin at last brought his plane down beside the half ruined
chateau, he found both Stanley and Blaine stooping over a prostrate
form soon identified as that of the German aviator. Near by was the
Fokker, somewhat disabled, but not in such bad condition. The man
himself had just expired.
"What do you think that chap asked us to do," said Blaine, regarding
the dead man solemnly. "It sort of mellowed me towards him, after His
father and mother live in Chicago, worked for some meat packers, and
his dad is making some money there. When he found that the bullets
that had hit him as well as his machine weren't goin' to let him live
much longer, he asked if either of us got back to our lines, to write
tell his mother. He gave me the name and I put it down in my pocket
pad book. He talked in good English and altogether seemed quite like
some of our home folks. He got into aviation over here and liked it.
But he's out of all that now and to make him feel better both Stan and
I promised to do as he wished.
"He said his machine was all right; and if anything was the matter with
ours we might fix up his and make a get-away. Course there ain't
nothin' much the matter with mine, though yours may be crippled --
hullo! What's that?"
The loud report of an exploding bomb sounded as it fell not far away.
Instantly they scattered for such shelter as was obtainable. Other
bombs fell and for a few minutes the scene was indescribable. They saw
from the shelter both their own machines shattered too badly for
further immediate use, though the Fokker remained untouched, it being
some distance off and partially under the protecting shadow of a half
ruined arch of the chateau that overhung the main approach.
Also they heard the whirring swish of the passing squadron as it
circled over the buildings. It afterwards appeared that the chateau
owner was for some reason specially obnoxious to the Germans in
Belgium. At last the bombing apparently ceased, but even this was
deceptive. Both Blaine and Erwin, followed at a little distance by
Stanley, ran out to look into the damage done to their machines. In
the darkness this was slow work. A fire was lighted, and while still
examining the wrecks another whirring overhead sounded.
Stanley discreetly dodged under another projecting abutment, when down
dropped another bomb, probably thrown at a venture from some scattering
member of the squad that had just passed. From his shelter Stanley was
horrified to see both Blaine and Erwin, who were near the fire, thrown
violently down as the bomb burst appallingly near where they were
crouched. They; did not rise again.
Without waiting to see if other bombs might fall, the observer ran
forward in great perturbation. Both aviators lay apparently senseless.
From Blaine's head blood was flowing from a flesh wound somewhere up
under his thick mop of short curly hair. His pulse, however, was
beating lively.
As for Erwin, no visible wounds were apparent, yet he lay there deathly
pale while some of his clothing had been torn by fragments of the
exploding bomb.
Of Buck Bangs there was no sign.
Deeply depressed, for he was very young and impressionable, Stanley,
regardless of his own safety, punched up the fire and from his own and
his comrades' kits procured such remedies as aviators carry for just
such emergencies. In the dark he hunted for water but found none.
From a flask of good French brandy he managed to pour a spoonful or so
down each throat, taking a swallow himself, for he felt he sorely
needed it.
Poor old Blaine never stirred. Erwin at last shivered slightly.
"Isn't this a deuce of a fix?" he sighed at length. "Where are we?
For all I know, Blaines may be dead. Here, feeling again of Lafe's
pulse, its steady beat somewhat reassured Stanley. "How about Orris?"
If anything, Erwin's pulse was coming back. The brandy had restored
such vitality to the lad that his arteries were again sending the
life-giving fluid upon its unceasing task.
"What can have become of Buck?" Stanley replenished the fire with
stray fuel, for he knew that it would be a signal to Bangs and perhaps
to the enemy; but as to the last he hoped not, amid that chilly
darkness and night fog.
Here a slight noise from his rear caused Stanley to wheel in his tracks
and stare stupidly at a dim figure under the shadow of a portico in
front of the basement of the main edifice, which was, in fact, about
the only part of that vast group of buildings that seemed unharmed.
"Who are you? What brought you here?" came an unmistakably feminine
voice.
More wonderful still, the language was English -- good English, too.
Was there not also an American twang about the tone and accent?
Stanley could have pinched himself, had he thought of it. But so
surprised was he that he seemed actually paralyzed, when an
unmistakably girlish figure emerged more into the light.
Still the young observer stared, hardly noticed that another older form
had made a dim appearance. It, too, wore skirts, though rather raged
and soiled. The girl's habiliments also evinced that her recent abode
had not been where style and cleanliness were at all dominant.
"You -- you are not Germans?" This tremulously from the girl. "You
understand me, don't you?"
"Yes, ma am," Stanley almost stuttered.
"Y-you s-see -- I'm some surprised --"
"Some surprised!" The girl was smiling hopefully. "That sounds like
good old United States talk."
"We heard so much noise overhead, then some nasty bombs exploding. So
Brenda and I have lain hidden in the cellars for -- for hours. Haven't
we, Brenda? The dim form in the rear nodded emphatically. "But who
are you?"
Here she caught sight of the ruined planes and the prostrate forms of
Blaine and Erwin, with also the more distant figure of the dead German.
"Oh -- oh!" She clasped her hands. "How dreadful! What can we do?
May we not help? Are they all dead?"
The girl was genuinely aroused, so much so that her natural horror of
the strained situation was lost in genuine concern. Stanley briefly
explained the series of incidents that had preceded the present
situation, at the same time pointing at the dead German aviator, and
concluding with:
"The poor chap used to live in Chicago. Before he died he gave us his
parents' address there. He spoke good English."
"Why, Chicago is where I hail from," said the girl. "Good old Windy
City! I wish I was there now, although I have been over here many
months."
Meantime Brenda, with the ready adaptability of Belgian women, had been
examining the persons of the two still insensible aviators. All at
once she rose up, saying to her mistress:
"Pardon, miss." This in her own Flemish tongue. "We must move these
Americans to our under ground rooms. They will recover, but they need
attention."
"You are sure right, Miss - Miss --" Stanley hesitated, but the girl
paid no heed. "We don't want to inconvenience you, but something will
have to be done right away."
With the able assistance of Brenda, while the girl went ahead carrying
a small lamp that had been produced as if by magic from somewhere -
possibility by Brenda -- they picked up poor Erwin and followed. Down
some half ruined stone steps they went, then through a long passage,
then down more steps to a half open door.
Once inside, Stanley saw he was in quite a sizeable room, with two
beds, one large, the other a mere cot. The girl led the way to the
large bed, and there they laid the still swooning man who gave a slight
groan as he was deftly covered by the girl who murmured as if to
herself:
"Poor fellow, he has suffered!"
Already Stanley was leaving, saying:
"We must get Blaine down here quickly. He is in a bad way, I fear."
Seizing the lamp, the girl hurried after. On reaching the other
stricken aviator, what was their surprise to find him leaning on one
elbow, trying to rise, but vainly.
"Wha -- what's the matter? Where am I?"
"You're with friends, old boy," soothed Stanley, seizing Blaine's arms,
while Brenda took up the lower limbs. With the wounded man muttering
aimlessly, again they wended their way to the lower chamber, evidently
used by the girl and Brenda as a temporary sleeping place.
With deft efficiency the girl had snatched up Stanley's kit of
dressings and other medical paraphernalia and hurried on ahead with the
lamp. In a trice they had placed him on the cot. Immediately the two
women were busy with these things and some stored aids of their own,
dressing the bruises on both the boys and applying restoratives, so
that in a short time both were awake, sensible, and staring with
grateful wonder at these two women -- angels of mercy -- and the
strange yet comfortable surroundings.
Mutual explanations had already begun when whirring, semi-thunderous
noises again were heard. Stanley was instantly on the alert.
"All of you remain quiet while I slip up and see what is on," he said,
flinging back: "If your light is apt to shine through any hole or
opening, better douse it or hang up covers. Make no noises until you
hear from me." He was off, but not before the girl called to him:
"Be very careful, sir! We cannot spare you - yet."
"No, we can't, ma'am," remarked Blaine from the cot where he now sat
upright with a bandaged head.
"Indeed, Sir," said the girl almost wistfully, "we cannot spare any of
you. Just think, we have been here a week, and with more or less
bombing going on each day and sometimes at night."
"May I ask, mademoiselle --" began Blaine.
"Just plain Miss," interrupted the girl. "Miss Daskam from Chicago!"
"Well, well!" Blaine was smilingly openly now. "That surely sounds
homelike! Well, we're all Americans too. We were on an air raid and
had a good deal of mixed luck. Blaine's my name; that's Erwin over
there," pointing at the cot where Orris was grinning and smiling. "The
chap who went out just now is Stanley. He is my observer. But our
machine is smashed now and how we will all get back is more than I
know. Eh, Orry?"
"Looks that way. But what's the use of worrying while we are in such
charming company? I'm all right."
And to prove it Erwin stepped out on the floor, a little teetery
perhaps, but once more himself. He made a not ungraceful bow.
"May I ask, Miss Daskam, how you happened to get cornered down here in
this poor old chateau? It must have been a grand place once -- but
now!" He shrugged slightly, regarding Miss Daskam sympathizingly.
"The wife of the owner of this place is my sister. I came over as a
member of the Belgian Red Cross. Both my sister and her husband are,
or were, at headquarters when I left the Belgian lines. I had a permit
to visit his chateau; for in the days before I came over here I had
left there certain papers most important to them both. I wanted to see
the place and I had a friend that was chummy with the Boches in
Brussels. He had forwarded me a pass. So I insisted on taking Brenda
along and trying it alone. You know western girls are not much afraid
of things."
"Well, you were plucky enough, anyhow, interposed Erwin and Blaine
nodded.
"Up to that time, after the chateau had been bombarded by our Allies in
their final advance towards Paschiendale after Vimy ridge, it had
rested unharmed further."
"But you can never count on what Fritz will do, or when he'll begin,"
remarked Blaine. Then as the girl went on, Erwin sat down suddenly as
if something within him had all at once given way.
"Keep still, Mr. Erwin," she cautioned. "You're not well vet. As I was
saving we got through the lines all right. If either my sister or the
Baron had gone, they would have been made prisoners at least. I was a
Red Cross nurse. We had done good work over there and even the Germans
were well disposed. But if it wasn't for Brenda, I hardly know how
we'd have managed Brenda is a -- a whole team, you know." She pressed
her servant's worn hand as she continued. "We reached the chateau,
secured the papers with out much trouble, for Brenda, being an old
family servitor, knew where to find them. That very night, while we
were in these underground rooms, the Germans began dropping bombs all
about.
"It appeared that the Allies from over our way had gotten to raiding
behind the lines, not knowing we were here, of course. Otherwise they
would not have begun, for the Baron is highly respected among the
Belgians and other Allies Why not? He is one of their King Albert's
main leaders. Well, after that we simply had a terrible time. First
one side, then the other would either fight overhead, or pass to and
fro, dropping bombs here and there. Oh, it was terrible!"
"Poor child!" This from Brenda. "She no harm no one; but dem Boche,
he no care what he do or where he do it. Ally not know either."
"Well, we have been here ever since. Now you have come, perhaps we may
somehow find a way to get out."
Here Stanley suddenly entered, looking strangely resolved. Above, the
explosive noises had gradually died out. Looking at Blaine, he said:
"Lafe, I have fixed up that German's Fokker All it needs is more
gasoline and there's still some in your tank and Orry's. If you don't
care, I'll fly that Fokker over our lines before morning and manage to
bring some help. Neither of you are strong enough to go and I
understand Fokkers pretty well. What say?"
"That won't do at all," exclaimed Erwin, making another violent effort
not only to stand but to walk. All at once he tottered and would have
fallen, but Brenda caught him, placing him back on the cot.
"That'll do for you, Orris," began Blaine. "Shucks! I feel quite
pert. Just you watch me!"
But it turned out that Blaine was, if anything, weaker than his friend,
and silence gave consent to his first proposal. Even Miss Daskam
assented, adding: "I hope when you do return with help, sir, that it
will be sufficient to enable Brenda and me to accompany you."
For the first time Stanley seemed to catch the wistfulness in her eyes
and tone. He impulsively took her hand, saying:
"Believe me, Miss Aida -- Daskam, I mean," (She had already whispered
to him her full name), "if any of us gets back out of this mess, you
may be sure you will be among them --"
"And Brenda, too?"
"Brenda, too! If I know anything of our folks back at the aerodrome,
we will have plenty of help."
In another minute he was gone. Brenda went with him to help about the
gasoline, and in an short time, under her pilotage, he reached an open
spot where he could rise.
They heard the whirring of his wings; he was gone.