THE LEDGE
About an hour before sunset, two men were warily feeling their way among
the boulders that strewed the steep declivity above the ledge. Slowly
they moved downwards, rarely rising to their full height, but stooping
as they dodged in and out between the largest of the stones, and heeding
their feet with strained watchfulness. They were Trentham and Hoole.
Grinson, with the rest of their party, had been left in hiding near the
burnt village, unwillingly; but Trentham had remarked that his bulky
form was ill suited to reconnaissance work; a call would be made on his
resources later.
The calm surface of the cove was spread out nearly two hundred feet
below them. They could see two of the sheds, a few men moving about,
and the seaplane lying high up on the beach; but the Raider, moored near
the innermost shore, was at present invisible. Nor could they see the
ledge, almost perpendicularly beneath them, but now and then they heard
the crack of the overseer's whip, and the crash of coals as they fell
upon the beach. In front of them the air was slightly darkened by dust
wafted up the face of the cliff.
As they climbed lower they moved still more slowly and cautiously, often
pausing to rest. At one of these halts Trentham leant against a large
boulder, and started back in haste as it moved, swaying slightly and
noiselessly like those rocking stones which are to be found here and
there on our coasts, and which, insecurely poised though they seem, are
rarely moved from their seats. The risk of disturbing the boulder and
betraying his presence brought a momentary pallor to his cheeks. When
they moved on again, they tested every upstanding rock before putting
any pressure upon it, and found more than one which very little force
would cause to fall.
The boulders gave effective cover from observation from the beach, and
the contour of the cliff hid them from the sentry on the cliff path
several hundreds of yards away. But presently the descent became
steeper; they caught sight of the top of the Raider's wireless mast; the
sounds from the ledge and the beach grew more distinct and the dust
cloud denser. They seemed to have come to the end of the scattered mass
of boulders, and peering over, they saw a fairly smooth slope, too steep
to climb, lacking in cover, and ending in a sharp edge between fifty and
sixty feet below. Any boulders that in times past may have rolled here
had found no lodgment, or, at any rate, must have long since fallen into
the cove.
While they were crouching behind the lowest of the boulders, wondering
how they could determine the exact position of the prisoners, they heard
a shout from beyond the ledge, followed by an answering call, fainter,
more distant. They shrank back, half fearing that they had been seen;
but the shouts were not repeated, and there was no sign of excitement
among the men on the beach.
A few minutes later, apparently from a spot immediately beneath them,
came the sound of a voice speaking in loud tones, yet not so clearly
that they could distinguish the words. It broke off once or twice, and
they listened for an answering voice, but heard none. Then one shouted
word struck distinctly upon their ears. 'Pig!' Stretching forward,
they strained their hearing. 'You shall zink all night ... shoot you
dead. Understand?'
There was silence. Trentham's and Hoole's eyes met.
'Hahn?' murmured Trentham.
Hoole nodded.
'Bullying Meek,' he whispered.
Trentham cast his eye along the irregular line of boulders. A few yards
from the spot where they were crouching, two jagged rocks, between four
and five feet high and about three feet wide at the base, stood almost
parallel with the edge of the slope, and about two feet apart. Crawling
to them, Trentham pushed them gently from behind, then more firmly,
finally with all his strength. They did not yield by the smallest
fraction of an inch. Carefully marking their position, the two men
clambered back among the boulders, gained the top of the ridge more
quickly than they had descended, and hastened to rejoin their party,
guiding themselves by the trunks of trees and bushes which Hoole had
been careful to 'blaze' as they came. There was just light enough to
see the marks.
When they regained the thicket where they had left the others, Grinson
came forward eagerly to meet them.
'Any luck, sir?' he asked anxiously. 'Did ye find Ephraim?'
'We know pretty well where he is,' replied Trentham.
'Safe and sound?'
'That I can't say exactly, but he 's sound enough to make Hahn call him
a pig.'
'Pig! A lamb like Ephraim! By thunder, sir, if I get my fingers on
that there Hahn I 'll teach him! Ephraim a pig! Blast my--
'Steady, Grinson,' interrupted Hoole. 'Meek isn't damaged by Hahn's
abuse. Things are more serious than that. From what we overheard, it's
pretty sure that Meek has refused to do something that Hahn ordered.'
'Good lad! I 'll----'
'Wait. Hahn has given him all night to think it over; he threatens to
shoot him.'
Grinson was silenced. His heat was quenched by speechless care. Fixing
his eyes anxiously on Trentham, he said quietly:
'Anything you order, sir.'
'We 'll save him if we can,' said Trentham. 'We 've hard work in front
of us, but with care and good fortune--by the way, Hoole, can you find
your way back in the dark?'
'The moon 's up, my son. She 's riding low, but she 'll last long
enough for this stunt, I reckon.'
'Good! Now, Grinson, cut a stout pole from a tree--as strong as you can
find, three to four feet long.'
'Ay, ay, sir!' responded the boatswain, whipping out his knife.
While he was gone about his task, Trentham explained to Lafoa, the
interpreter, that the position of the prisoners had been roughly
located, and asked him to inform the rest of the party. They would have
to march to the cliff in the waning moonlight, keeping absolute silence,
and be ready to do instantly and exactly what they were ordered. The
safety of their chief Flanso and his fellow prisoners would depend on
their prompt obedience.
On Grinson's return, Trentham ordered one of the men to unwind the rope
from his body, and the boatswain to fasten one end of it to the pole.
He then slung the pole over a thick branch of a tree, and bade half the
party of natives hang on to it, while Grinson and the other half held
the loose end of the rope. The test being satisfactory, and the rope
having been wound over the pole, they formed up in single file, and,
Hoole leading, set out over their former tracks for the cliff. Not a
word was spoken. The bare feet of the natives made no sound; the
footsteps of the white men could scarcely have been heard if any
watchers had been lurking in the bush. The rays of the moon, near its
setting, gave Hoole light enough to distinguish the blazed trees, and
they marched rapidly. Presently the prevailing stillness was invaded by
the soft rustle of the surf, and they caught sight of the glistening
path of the moonlight stretching far across the sea. Slackening his
pace a little, so as to reduce the slight sounds made by the white men's
boots, Hoole led the party unerringly to the crest of the boulder-strewn
slope. There they halted.
There were whispered explanations and instructions. Grinson, in spite
of his anxiety for Meek, was a little daunted by the difficulties of the
plan unfolded to him. The exact position of the prisoners on the ledge
was unknown. A sentry would certainly be on guard. An incautious
movement, the accidental disturbance of a stone, a misjudgment of
distance in the dark, might involve not only the failure of the scheme,
but death to its authors. Trentham did not minimise the dangers; they
had all been canvassed by Hoole and himself; indeed, he was prepared to
find that some factor which he had been unable to take into account
would render his plan unworkable.
'But we are not going to attempt the impossible, Grinson,' he said. 'We
shall first discover what 's possible, and then--well, you 're not the
man to jib at a risk.'
'True, sir, and Ephraim is worth it. I 'll say no more.'
They waited until the sinking moon gave just light enough to see the two
rocks which Trentham and Hoole had marked on their previous visit; then
they stole down the slope among the boulders. For greater security the
white men had removed their boots. On reaching the furthermost of the
boulders they halted again. Trentham placed the log of wood across the
gap between the two rocks, and got Grinson to loop the loose end of the
rope under his armpits. When the moon had wholly disappeared below the
hills behind, and the face of the cliff was dark, he crawled inch by
inch down the bare slope, and peeped cautiously over the edge.
The cove, the beach, the ledge--all were now within his range of vision.
His eyes were first attracted by lights below. There was a glimmering
lamp on the Raider's deck forward; the deck appeared to be unoccupied,
and no lights shone from the portholes. All three sheds were
illuminated, and from the murmur of voices Trentham guessed that the
Germans were at their evening meal. No one was moving on the beach.
Then he noticed a slight intermittent glow some distance away on his
right; behind it a face was momentarily lit up. Without doubt it
proceeded from the pipe of the sentry on the ledge. Trentham recalled
the position as he had seen it from the other side of the cove when he
made his first reconnaissance. The sentry was evidently posted at the
inner end of the ledge, where one path led to the beach, another wound
round the cliff. These were the only avenues of escape; the other end
of the ledge was blocked. The fact that the sentry was smoking argued
that discipline was less strict here than it would have been on board
ship; probably vigilance also was less rigid. What had the Germans to
fear from their cowed slaves, and the natives of the village they had
terrorised?
Withdrawing his eyes from this extremity of the ledge, Trentham could
just distinguish the outlines of baskets laid against the cliff wall.
Then he started, and felt his pulses quicken. Surely that pallid object
below him, a little to his left, was a man's face. He closed his eyes,
and reopening them after a few moments found that he could see more
clearly. Beyond doubt a white man was standing close against the wall.
His attitude was peculiarly rigid. The explanation flashed upon
Trentham; Meek was tied up.
Trentham looked up and down the ledge for the native prisoners. Black
though they were, he expected to be able to discover them, even in the
darkness, by some movement or sound. He was as much perplexed as
surprised at discerning no sign of them. Where, then, were they kept?
Meek, however, was his first concern. How long had the seaman been tied
up? Was he conscious, and able to assist in his release? It was
impossible to tell. Wriggling along the edge of the slope until he was
exactly over Meek's position, Trentham took a short peg from his pocket,
drove it into the soil, and attached to it a thin line of fibre which he
had brought with him. Then, holding the line, he crawled carefully up
the slope, and rejoined his party.
In a few whispered words he related the extent of his discoveries.
'Better 'n we could expect, sir,' murmured Grinson, with a long breath
of relief. 'If the look-out is smoking----'
'Yes,' interrupted Trentham, 'but we mustn't rely too much on that. He
may be relieved at any minute; we can't tell. We must get to work while
the men are still feeding. Ready, Hoole?'
'Sure!' was the reply.
Following the guiding line, of which Grinson now held the upper end, the
two men crept down the slope. Grinson understood that the line would be
used to signal how to deal with the thicker rope, which was coiled round
the log laid across the two rocks. When they reached the edge, Trentham
transferred the coil of rope from his own arms to those of Hoole, who
was to descend first on to the ledge. They were both conscious that
this was a critical moment. A fall of earth as the rope strained over
the edge could hardly fail to arouse the sentry. A man issuing from one
of the sheds might notice, even in the dark, the white clothes of the
climber, stained though they were. The first misfortune might be
avoided with care; the second was at the mercy of chance.
Hoole felt with his hand for a hard smooth spot upon the edge, over
which the rope might pass without risk of displacing earth. Then he
peered along the ledge from end to end. The sentry was still smoking;
no one was visible but Meek. Sounds of talking came from the shed,
punctuated by the regular recurring swish of the surf.
'Good luck!' Trentham whispered.
Hoole gave three jerks on the thin line he carried, then slid over the
edge. The rope tightened under his armpits; the natives above slowly
paid it out. He sank out of sight, and it seemed an age to Trentham
before two jerks signalled that he had reached the ledge. A few seconds
later a single jerk indicated that the rope might be drawn up. When it
came over the edge, Trentham instantly passed the loop over his
shoulders, repeated the signal for lowering, and in half a minute was
standing beside Hoole, close against the cliff wall.
Both were panting with excitement. No fresh sound was added to those
they had already heard; their descent had been unperceived.
Each went at once about the task previously agreed on. Hoole took a few
paces towards the sentry, and revolver in hand, stood on guard, while
Trentham, with quick, silent cuts of his knife, released the
half-unconscious seaman.
'Not a word, Meek,' whispered Trentham, as he placed the loop under the
man's shoulders. 'Grinson is waiting for you above.'
He jerked on the line. Meek slowly ascended, and his clothes being
dark, his form could scarcely be distinguished against the cliff. He
had only just disappeared over the edge when a light was suddenly thrown
on the beach by the opening of the door of one of the sheds. There was
a burst of louder talking, and a group of seamen issued forth, and
ambled down to a dinghy lying a few yards above the surf. Hoole and
Trentham slipped silently down, and lay flat against the wall. They
heard the scrape of the boat as it was hauled over the sand, the clatter
of boots as the men climbed into it, then the rattle of oars in the
rowlocks. The men were boarding the Raider; from her deck they might
see movements on the ledge. Was this to be the end of the adventure?
For a few minutes the voices of the Germans rose from the vessel; then
they ceased, and Hoole, raising his head cautiously, saw that the deck
was clear.
'Now for the sentry!' he whispered.
Foreseeing that the native prisoners, when they should be discovered and
released, might hail their deliverance with shouts of joy, Trentham had
arranged with Grinson that Lafoa, the interpreter, should be lowered to
the ledge when he gave the signal. But he had not expected any
difficulty in finding the prisoners' whereabouts. The presence of the
sentry showed that they were somewhere on the ledge, and he felt some
anxiety lest they were near the German, and would be disturbed as Hoole
went forward to deal with him. For this reason, when Hoole was about to
grope his way along the ledge, Trentham detained him by a whisper, and
signalled to Grinson by means of the line. A minute later he heard a
sound above as the Papuan came dangling down at the end of the rope--a
sound so slight that it could not have been heard by the sentry amid the
rustle of the surf. He caught Lafoa about the body, released him from
the rope, and then, in the briefest sentences of which pidgin English is
capable, instructed him in the part he was to play presently.
Hoole started, stealing along inch by inch under the cliff wall, taking
advantage of its inequalities and of the baskets which were ranged in
line against it. He had gone forward only about a dozen yards, however,
when Trentham, who could just distinguish his form, saw him halt,
crouching low. The sentry's pipe was still emitting its glow at regular
intervals as the man puffed. It was clear that he had not been
disturbed, and Trentham, wondering why Hoole had stopped, stole forward
to join him, carrying the rope with which Meek had been bound.
The American was lying almost flat, peering between the bars of a wooden
grating that covered a hole in the cliff.
'Listen!' he whispered, as Trentham came up behind him.
And then Trentham heard, from behind the grating, sounds of deep
breathing, as of many men asleep. Nothing could be seen in the pitch
blackness within; but the two men concluded that they had found the
place in which the natives were confined. Worn out by long hours of
fatiguing work to which they were unused, the prisoners, no doubt, were
sleeping the heavy sleep of exhaustion.
Hoole was about to go forward, when he was arrested by a sound some
distance ahead. He dropped flat again, and taking up handfuls of coal
dust, rubbed it all over his clothes. Trentham followed his example.
They now identified the sound as footsteps; in a few moments they heard
a voice, then a tapping.
'Sentry being relieved; knocking out his pipe,' Hoole whispered.
They lay watching, listening, with their hearts in their mouths. Would
the Germans come to look at the man they had tied up? Or would the
relieving sentry be satisfied by his comrade's report that all was well,
and take up his post without investigation? If both should come along
the ledge together, it was hopeless to expect that they could be
silenced without one or other having time to give the alarm. They might
even see the white clothes, in spite of the coating of coal dust, before
they came within reach. A single shout would arouse the Germans below,
and all would be over.
The footsteps drew nearer; two voices were heard. The new sentry
exchanged a few words with his comrade; then the heavy boots of the
latter rang on the path leading downwards to the beach. The risk was
halved! A match was struck; the newcomer lit his pipe, and for a minute
or two paced up and down a short stretch of the ledge. Hoole hoped that
he would soon tire of this, and sit, as his comrade presumably had done,
smoking placidly, dreaming perhaps of a little cottage somewhere in the
Fatherland.
But presently the slow footsteps approached. The scent of tobacco smoke
touched the nostrils of the waiting men. The sentry was coming to look
at his prisoner. Trentham and Hoole crawled back silently a few yards,
and effaced themselves as well as they could behind the baskets. The
German came slowly on, humming between his closed lips. He reached the
tunnel, and stood at the grating for a few moments; the watchers saw the
reflection of his glowing pipe on his face as he pressed it close
against the bars. Humming again, he sauntered on towards the post where
Meek had been tied, walking outside the line of baskets, and passing the
hidden men within a couple of yards.
Now was the critical moment. Feeling that the whole success of the
enterprise hung on the next few seconds, Hoole pulled himself together,
got to his feet, and noiselessly on his stocking soles tip-toed after
the German. From below came the restless murmur of the surf. Hoole's
footsteps could not have been heard, yet the German, perhaps moved by
that strange sense one has of being followed, was on the point of
turning round, when a hard fist caught him with the force of a
sledge-hammer behind his right ear, and he fell like a log. Trentham,
who had followed stealthily, instantly dashed forward, and before the
stunned man regained consciousness he was bound hand and foot with the
rope that had tortured Meek, and a gag, torn from Hoole's coat, was
firmly wedged between his teeth.
[Illustration: NOISELESSLY ON HIS STOCKING SOLES TIP-TOED AFTER THE
GERMAN.]
Leaving him where he lay, the two men summoned Lafoa to join them, and
led him to the tunnel. Groping over the grating, Hoole discovered the
wooden bolt with which it was fastened, quietly removed the cover, and
signed to Lafoa to go in.
There was another moment of tense anxiety. Grunts, ejaculations, the
stir of movement, were heard from the depths of the tunnel. Something
fell with a sharp crack--a pick which one of the men had displaced. At
the mouth of the tunnel it sounded like a pistol shot, and Hoole and
Trentham swung round and looked apprehensively towards the beach. All
was still, there. No doubt the wash of the sea was loud enough to
smother the single sharp sound at a distance.
It was evident that Lafoa had intelligently grasped his instructions,
for the natives, as they filed out, though their movements were quick
and urgent, made scarcely a sound. In a long string they followed
Trentham to the spot where the rope dangled over the wall of the ledge.
Trentham found that his hands were trembling as he slid the rope over
the shoulders of the first man. If only he could have multiplied the
rope! Each ascent would take at least half a minute. How many men were
there? What might not happen before they were all in safety above? One
by one he looped them, saw them rise, caught the descending rope.
Hoole, who had counted them out, came up to them and whispered
'Thirty-four.' More than a quarter of an hour must elapse before the
last man had ascended, and some of those at the end of the line were
showing signs of restlessness, grunting, sighing, clicking with their
tongues. Moment by moment Trentham expected some of them to whoop with
excitement. 'Make all fella no talkee!' he whispered to Lafoa, and the
man went along the line muttering fierce threats.
The thirty-fourth man had gone. Lafoa followed him, then Hoole. Not a
sound had been heard from below but the murmur of the sea and the
muffled voices of the men in the sheds. With intense relief, and the
feeling that fortune could hardly betray them now, Trentham looped
himself and signalled to be hoisted. He was barely half way to the top
when a sharp clatter above made his blood run cold. Crack followed
crack, then for a second there were a number of dull thuds, and finally,
a tremendous crash on the ledge below, waking echoes around the cove.
One of the natives, in climbing among the boulders, had displaced a
large rock.
The doors of the sheds were burst open. Lights shone across the cove.
Men came rushing out, calling to one another, to the sentry above, to
the men on the Raider. 'Faster! Faster!' Trentham cried inwardly, as he
was jerked upward. He was just over the edge when a blinding light
swept across the face of the cliff. The searchlight's beams fell full
upon Trentham's white-clad form. Slipping out of the loop, he scrambled
on hands and knees up the sloping ascent towards the boulders. Below
him there was a sputtering rattle, and he felt himself splashed with
earth and stones as the rain of machine-gun bullets pecked at the cliff.
Something hot stung his leg; he crawled faster; in another moment his
shoulders were grasped by sinewy hands, and Grinson and Hoole between
them lugged him over the brink and behind the protecting boulders.
'Thanks be for all mercies!' panted Grinson. 'And as for that clumsy
lubber that kicked down the rock----'
'Shoo!' whistled Hoole, 'it's time, sure, to cut and run!'