For the dashing exploit next described, Lieutenant Pétri, of the
French Aerial Service, received the Military Cross. It was during the
tragic period when the British Naval Division had evacuated Antwerp.
Somewhere near Bruges a large party of cavalry, which included the
Royal Horse Guards, met the fugitives. Above them a French biplane
hovered. A splinter of shell had killed the observer. Lieutenant Pétri
piloted the machine. Hard by the town of Eecloo he perceived a score
of tiny ant-men fleeing along the road towards Waerschoot. These would
have attracted Pétri's attention before had not his engine commenced
miss-firing. For a time it seemed on the point of refusing action
altogether, but at last he got it going again.
It was then, when the biplane had come quite close to the earth, that
he became aware of an exciting chase beneath. The cape of a woman first
caught his eye. She was mounted on a horse, and was galloping away at
breakneck speed from half-a-dozen Uhlans, who, with lances poised,
were pursuing her. In a flash Pétri had manoeuvred his machine over
the horsemen. A lever was pulled, and the roar of an explosion right
among the Uhlans told of the success of his aim. As he descended Pétri
observed that one of the soldiers had managed to make good his escape.
In all probability he had gone for reinforcements. There was no time to
lose. The machine came to earth near the woman, who had dismounted.
"You have come to make me a prisoner?" she cried, in French. She was
very beautiful, with dark curls of chestnut hair floating in the wind.
"I have come to take you," answered Pétri, touching his cap, "but not
as a prisoner--as a passenger, if mam'selle will permit."
In horror she pointed to the observer, whose head hung loosely on his
breast.
"Poor Fanchon has been shot," answered the lieutenant. Tearing away the
straps that held the poor fellow securely in his seat, Pétri laid him
reverently on a mound of grass by the roadside.
This was no occasion for ceremony. Very soon the girl's horse was
cantering riderless along the road, and the engine was roaring again as
the plane rose up towards the clouds.
When they had mounted some five hundred feet into the air the passenger
pointed with almost fearful interest at another group proceeding along
the road they had just quitted. The Uhlan was returning, with probably
a score of companions. They promptly opened fire on the machine, but
by this time the biplane was out of their reach.
When Pétri regained the French lines it was found that the woman was
the bearer of important despatches. There was no more to relate, for
Horace tells us that romance ends with marriage, and Pétri was already
a married man when our story opens.