A DASH FOR LIBERTY
DAY after day, night after night passed with almost intolerable
tediousness. The meagre fare, uncomfortable quarters, their motley
clothing, the jeers and taunts of their goalers--all these
discomforts, unpleasant though they were, could be borne with
fortitude bordering on equanimity. It was the dearth of news and the
enforced inactivity that weighed so heavily upon the captive British
officers.
The Huns knew this and traded upon it. The prisoners would have
welcomed hard labour, provided that it was not of a nature that would
directly assist the enemy against their fellow-countrymen. Manual
labour they knew to be a tonic to mental inactivity--a means to keep
their bodies fit and their muscles in good form. Instead they were
permitted but two hours a day in the grounds, and even then football
or, in fact, any games were "verboten."
Although the prison buildings fronted on one of the village streets,
the rear of the premises overlooked the dunes. In westerly winds the
captives could hear the sea thundering upon the outlying sands--a
call of freedom to which they could not respond.
When at frequent intervals the dull booming of cannon was borne to
their ears, they would look at each other with unspoken words of
hope, until they realised that the guns were being fired as practice
and not directed upon the long-expected British assault by sea and
air.
Sometimes, too, they could see the giant Zeppelins being guided
cautiously from the huge collapsible sheds. This took place usually
in the late afternoon, at or about the time of the new moon. Away
would speed the craven night-raiders in a westerly direction, to
return with almost unfailing regularity just after dawn. Once,
however, a Zeppelin trailed homewards with its after-part sagging
ominously, and before it could be safely housed, it collapsed, a
crumpled heap of girders and torn fabric, upon the ground. At
another, three airships set out across the North Sea, and only one
returned.
Great was the joy of the prisoners on these occasions. Regardless of
the threats of their guards, they would give vent to the wildest
demonstrations of joy. But they had to pay for these outbursts. A
further restriction of their already meagre fare and a complete
deprivation of their tobacco and cigarettes was the unfailing
penalty. It was worth the punishment, to "let themselves go" over the
unquestionable loss of yet another of the Huns' vaunted gas-bags.
Amongst the highly organised methods adopted by the Germans for the
defence of Sylt was the practice of sending up a couple of
observation balloons by day whenever a Zeppelin was not cruising
overhead. These strangely shaped balloons were in the form of an egg,
with a curved cylinder attached to the end in order to prevent the
contrivance from rotating under the influence of air-currents. To the
observation car was attached a light but strong flexible wire cable,
which was paid out or taken up as required by means of a drum on the
ground. At night the balloons were hauled down and partly deflated,
but at sunrise they were sent up again with the special object of
keeping a look-out for British aeroplanes.
On one occasion a false alarm was given. Promptly the captive
balloons were hauled down. The Zeppelins emerged from their sheds and
flew--not westwards to meet the threatened attack, but in a
south-easterly direction. It was quite apparent that the Germans had
little faith in their unwieldy gas-bags as a means of combating the
daring British seaplanes in broad daylight; so they sent them inland
to a safe distance, rather than risk annihilation at the hands of the
intrepid Britishers.
In addition to the artillerymen stationed at Sylt there were several
regiments of infantry--men who were supposed to be resting after
months in the terrible district of Ypres. From the very first the
Huns had a strong suspicion that Great Britain would attempt a
landing upon the shores of Schleswig-Holstein, under cover of the
guns of the fleet. Consequently a complete army corps had continually
been pinned down to this part of the German Empire in order to be in
readiness to repel the threatened invasion.
Upon the occasion of the false alarm Tressidar noticed that the
infantrymen were promptly sent off to bomb-proof dug-outs, since they
could be of little use in defence against aircraft. The gunners,
however, stood to the quick-firers, the majority manning the
batteries on the dunes, while others were told off to the portable
anti-aircraft guns mounted on armoured motor-cars.
With the departure of the Zeppelins the sheds in which they were
housed were lowered by means of steel trellis derricks until they lay
flat upon the ground. The material of which the sheds were built was
light steel, the outside of which had been coated with varnish. While
the varnish was still in a viscous state, sand had been liberally
sprinkled upon it, with the result that the collapsed sections of the
Zeppelin sheds could hardly be distinguished from the surrounding
soil.
The false alarm was but one of many. The troops were continually
being called to arms, with the result that they were showing
unmistakable signs of weariness under the strain. On each occasion
the German officers attached to the prison staff took particular
pains to inform the British captives that a threatened air-raid had
been frustrated by the formidable appearance of the garrison
defences.
But one day--it was exactly a month from the time when Tressidar
first set foot in the fortress of Sylt--the long-expected attack took
place.
Through the brilliant sunlit air six British seaplanes, looking
little larger than may-flies, headed straight for the island. Well in
the offing lay a parent ship for seaplanes, four light cruisers, and
a swarm of destroyers; while still further to the westward the giant
battle-cruisers kept in touch with their smaller consorts, ready to
swoop down upon the German warships should the latter be tempted to
join issue with the audacious British.
Tressidar and Fuller were alone in the common room. Owing to a
trumped-up charge of a breach of discipline they had been prevented
from joining the rest of their comrades in misfortune for the daily
outdoor recreation.
A tremendous outburst of shell from the light quick-firers brought
the chums to the barred window. Although they had had plenty of
disappointment over the false alarms, they never neglected the
opportunity of making for a place of observation when the
anti-aircraft guns opened fire. For days they had waited for
"something to turn up," and now their optimistic patience was about
to be rewarded.
"Five of them, by Jove!" exclaimed Fuller. "No, six. They'll play the
deuce with the Huns."
"And possibly with us," thought the sub., but nevertheless his nerves
were a-tingle and his hopes centred upon the main idea that the raid
would be of brilliant military importance. Personal safety was a
negligible quantity.
All around the biplanes were white, mushroomed clouds of smoke from
the bursting shrapnel. It seemed as if nothing in the vicinity could
escape the concentrated fire from the German guns, yet serenely the
seaplanes held on their course, tilting slightly under the violent
disturbance of the air.
With their faces pressed against the iron bars of the window the two
young officers watched the progress of the aircraft until they were
so immediately overhead that the masonry impeded their outlook. The
last they saw of the daring raiders was that they were volplaning
rapidly.
"Now stand by!" whispered Fuller tersely. "In another few seconds
you'll hear the plums drop."
The anti-aircraft guns redoubled their furious fire. The whole
building trembled under the reverberation of the deafening reports.
Then, as Fuller had foretold, came the first of a succession of
terrific explosions, as a large bomb from the leading seaplane
crashed into a shell store.
Although the prisoners could not see the actual damage done to the
building, they knew that it no longer existed. A dense black cloud
thrown skywards by the detonation threw such a dark shadow that
sunlight gave place to a gloom resembling twilight. Thousands of
projectiles, hurled far and wide, burst with dire results. Scorched
and maimed bodies of victims were projected in unrecognisable masses
for nearly two hundred yards from the actual scene of the disaster.
For some moments bombs fell like rain. Several of the gun
emplacements in the dunes were utterly wrecked. In others the guns
were temporarily disabled by quantities of sand that, hurled right
and left by the bombs, choked the bore and clogged the delicate
mechanism of the sights and training gear.
The torpedo-boats in the basin also had a rough handling. Several, to
escape destruction, put out to sea, but in the confusion many
collided in the narrow, intricate channel. Others were sunk alongside
the quays. Of the forty naval vessels belonging to the port,
twenty-two only escaped.
Expecting every moment to find the building collapse over their
heads, Tressidar and his companion stuck to their posts at the
window, Presently they saw one of the huge armoured cars proceeding
at a furious pace down the military road behind the dunes. As it tore
along, its obliquely-pointed quick-firer spat venomously at the
British seaplanes until a bomb, falling quite a hundred feet from the
car, tore a deep hole in the roadway. At the same time a flying
fragment of metal found its way through the narrow slit in the steel
plating behind which sat the driver. The man was either killed or
seriously wounded, for the powerfully engined vehicle was no longer
under control. Gradually, at a speed of approximately forty miles an
hour, it described a curve in a right-handed direction, while the
gunners, their attention fixed upon the elusive targets a thousand
feet or more above their heads, were in ignorance of the danger that
threatened them.
"Dash it all!" exclaimed Tressidar excitedly. "That car will barge
into something in half a shake."
Already the vehicle had left the broad road and was ploughing with no
apparent effort through the sand. It was heading towards the prison
buildings.
Through the outer palisade it came, hurtling the steel rods right and
left. Then, without checking its headlong career, the car wrenched
its way through the double lines of barbed wire, carrying away yards
of fencing as it did so.
The anti-aircraft gun had now ceased firing. The gunners, aware of
the fact that the car was a derelict, but unable to gain the steering
compartment, were helpless.
"Stand by!" exclaimed Tressidar.
The warning was necessary. The motor-battering-ram was charging
straight for the window. Promptly the chums backed away from the
bars. Judging by the speed and momentum of the petrol-driven vehicle
there was great danger of the car charging completely through the
stone building.
The next instant there was a violent crash. Stone, mortar, iron bars,
woodwork flew in all directions accompanied by clouds of dust, while
rearing at an alarming angle upon the mound of debris was the car.
It was totally wrecked. The muzzle of the anti-aircraft gun, having
caught in the overhanging masonry, had been wrenched from its
mountings, tearing away the steel roof of the car and pinning the two
gunners under the heavy metal. The petrol from the burst tanks 'was
saturating everything within the limit of its flood, although,
fortunately for Tressidar and his companion, the highly volatile
spirit had not exploded. To add to the horrors of the scene bombs
from the British seaplanes were still falling.
"Come along!" shouted Tressidar, bawling to make himself heard above
the din.
"Right-oh," replied Fuller with alacrity.
The sub. had no definite plan. All he knew was that a path had been
cleared for them through the formidable barriers. There was a
chance--a very slight chance--of liberty, and they seized it.
Crawling over the pile of debris and edging between the upturned side
of the car and the jagged wall, they gained the open space between
the building and the military road behind the dunes.
Glancing cautiously right and left, the two chums made the discovery
that the coast was clear. The gunners of the stationary quick-firers,
ensconced in their armoured emplacements, were too busy with their
work to look elsewhere. A mile or so down the road and proceeding
away from the prison buildings were two armoured cars. Every soldier,
not actually engaged in firing at the seaplanes, had returned to the
shelter of the dug-outs and bomb-proof casemates. Three distinct and
fiercely burning fires showed unmistakable proof that the work of
destruction had succeeded.
Through the gap in the shattered fence Tressidar and Fuller made
their way. The severed electric wires were spluttering viciously,
emitting bright blue flashes as their ends writhed like snakes. The
mastiffs were no longer in evidence. Terrified by the crash of the
falling bombs, they had scurried for shelter. The sentinels, too,
their dread of official punishment outweighed by the fear of death or
maiming from the powerful bombs, had deserted their posts, but not
before a corporal and two privates had been literally wiped out of
existence.
Through drifts of acrid-smelling smoke the two fugitives hastened,
until they gained the slight shelter afforded by a dip in the
reed-grown dunes.
So far so good, but unfortunately the seaplanes, their mission
accomplished, were already on their return journey, their departure
greeted by a futile discharge of shrapnel. That meant that before
long the Germans would be emerging from their shelters to take stock
of the damage before the officials could draft a report to Berlin
announcing that yet another raid had been attended by no results of
military significance.
"Say, old man," exclaimed Fuller. "What's the next move? We can't
hang on here much longer."
"No," replied Tressidar slowly. He was thinking deeply, regretting
that he had not previously mapped out a plan should an opportunity
like that of the present arise.
Suddenly an idea flashed across his mind.
"By Jove!" he ejaculated, "what's to prevent our nabbing that captive
balloon?"
"A great wheeze," rejoined Fuller, kneeling up and peering cautiously
in the direction of the observation balloon.
Thank goodness it had contrived to escape attention from the
far-flung fragments of the bombs. Partly inflated, and pinned to the
earth by a number of cords attached to sandbags, it retained
sufficient lifting power to support a couple of men, even if it were
unable to rise to a very great altitude.
The balloon was deserted. Imagining that it would be a particular
target for the British airmen, and knowing the danger of an explosion
in the vicinity of hundreds of thousands of cubic feet of hydrogen,
the men in charge had bolted precipitately at the first appearance of
the seaplanes.
Unnoticed, the two grotesquely garbed fugitives gained the spot where
the giant gas-bag was tethered. Peering over the edge of the car,
Tressidar found what he had expected, a box of tools.
"In with you, old man!" he exclaimed.
The chums clambered over the edge of the basket. Each, grasping a
chisel, began to sever the cords holding the retaining weights. While
six yet remained to be cut the balloon rose slowly from the ground.
Its reserve of buoyancy then, in addition to the two passengers, was
equal to the weight of half a dozen sandbags.
As the last cord was severed the balloon leapt skywards, until with a
perceptible jerk its ascent was stopped. It was held by a flexible
steel wire, the bulk of which was wound round the drum of the
lowering gear.
"Pliers, quick!" exclaimed Tressidar, swinging himself up into the
netting in order to bring himself within arm's length of the span to
which the cable was spliced.
Fuller obeyed promptly. As he did so he became aware of something
that the sub. in his excitement had not noticed. From their places of
concealment numbers of German soldiers were emerging. By the shouts
it was apparent that they had discovered the attempt at escape on the
part of the two English prisoners.
[Illustration: "'IN WITH YOU, OLD MAN!' HE EXCLAIMED"]
The steel wire was tough and offered stubborn resistance to the
pliers. Every moment was precious. Tressidar, too, was now aware of
the latest danger that threatened them. In his desperate anxiety to
complete his work the pliers slipped from his hand and fell a
distance of thirty feet to the ground.
"See if there's anything else to cut this infernal wire," he
exclaimed breathlessly, holding out his disengaged hand.
Fuller searched in vain. Amongst the collection of tools there was
nothing capable of making a quick job of cutting the wire. The
nearest German was within a hundred yards, and, like most of his
companions, was armed with a rifle. There seemed every possibility of
the luckless fugitives being done in.
Disregarding Tressidar's excitable requests to "Look sharp," the
flight sub. snatched up a rifle that was lying in the car. Throwing
up the bolt, he discovered, as he expected, that the weapon was
already loaded. With a steady hand he held the muzzle within a couple
of inches of the wire and pressed the trigger.
The next instant the balloon, captive no longer, was soaring skywards
at a dizzy rate, the bullet having accomplished the task that the
wire cutters had failed to do.