CHAPTER II
A Break-down
"Is that so?" asked Kenneth. "Then I hope to goodness the Russianswill give the Germans a thundering good licking. But why are yourtroops mobilizing?"
The Belgian officer replied by producing a newspaper and pointing to aheavy-leaded column.
"You understand our language?" he asked.
The report, though a piece of journalistic conjecture, afterwardsproved to be very near to the mark. It was to the effect that Germanyhad declared war against Russia and also France, and that her troopswere already pouring over the respective frontiers. To take allnecessary precautions the King of the Belgians had ordered amobilization, and had appealed to King George to assist him inpreserving the integrity of his small kingdom.
"You'll notice it says that it is reported," observed the cautiousRollo. "By Jove, if it is true, the Kaiser will have a handful. But,monsieur, surely Belgium will be out of it? Her integrity is protectedby treaties."
The Belgian officer shrugged his shoulders.
"Let us hope so," he remarked. "We Belgians have little faith in thehonour of a German. Therefore, we arm. Where do you propose to go?"
"To Liege, monsieur."
"Then do not go. It is not advisable. If you take my advice youreturn to England as soon as possible. Perhaps, soon, you come backagain with a brave English army."
"Whatever is the fellow aiming at?" asked Kenneth, after the officerwas out of ear-shot. "It's all so very mysterious about nothing."
"Do you call war between Germany and France and Russia nothing, oldfellow?"
"I wasn't referring to that," replied Kenneth. "Of course it is. TheRussians will simply walk over Prussia while the Germans are trying tobatter the French frontier forts. No; what I meant is, why should webe balked in going to Liege? We'll go, and risk it--though I don'tbelieve there is any risk. If there is, so much the better for us."
"Perhaps that Belgian officer knows more than he told us."
"Or else less. I'll tell you what, Rollo. We'll see what's doing atLiege; then, if there's time, we'll run back almost to the Frenchfrontier and see what the excitement is like there. Let's make anotherstart."
The suggestion was quickly put into practice, but progress was tediousand slow. The highway between Namur and Liege was crowded withtraffic. Military wagons, both motor-driven and drawn by horses andmules, seemed an unending stream. The rattling of the hugemotor-lorries prevented the chauffeurs from hearing any sounds beyondthe pulsations of their engines. In vain the two English lads soundedtheir horns. It was invariably a case of throwing out the clutch andwaiting for a favourable moment to dash past, often with a bare yardbetween the off-side wheel of the powerful lorries and the deep ditchby the side of the road.
There were thousands of troops, too, with their supply-carts; swarms ofpeasants driving cattle into the fortresses; motor-cars, motor-cycles,and ordinary cycles galore, till Rollo remarked, during one of theenforced halts, that it was ten times worse than Barnet Hill on fairnight.
At length, after taking two hours to traverse fifteen miles, the ladscame in sight of the town of Huy. Here the traffic lessened slightly,and Kenneth called for an increased speed.
Suddenly Rollo saw his companion's cycle slip from under him. It wasall he could do to avoid coming into collision with the prostratemount. When he pulled up and dismounted, Kenneth was regaining hisfeet.
"Hurt?" asked Barrington laconically, yet with considerable anxiety.
"Not a bit," replied Kenneth cheerfully. "Only barked my knuckles.Get up, you brute!"
The last remark was addressed to the motor-cycle, which was lying onits side across a rounded stone embedded in the ground on the edge ofthe footpath. Kenneth found, for the first time, that it required afair amount of physical energy to restore a fallen motorcycle to itsnormal position.
Thrice he tried a running start, but without success. The motorrefused to fire.
"Jack it up on its stand," suggested Rollo. "Inject a little petrolinto the compression tap and have another shot."
Kenneth promptly acted upon this advice, but still without satisfactoryresult. By this time Rollo had placed his cycle on its stand and wasready to give assistance.
"There's no spark," he announced after testing the plug. "I hope itisn't the magneto."
With the usual perversity of things in general and motor-cycles inparticular, it was the magneto that was out of action. The round stoneon which the cycle had fallen had given the delicate mechanism a nastyblow.
"This job's beyond me," declared Rollo. "We must see what can be donein the next town. Thank goodness it isn't far. Off with the belt andpush her; I won't risk towing you with this traffic about."
Already the disabled motor-cycle was surrounded by a crowd of peasantsand soldiers, all of whom offered advice; but, as the majority of theonlookers were Walloons, their Flemish tongue was not understood by thetwo English lads.
At length Kenneth managed to get into conversation with aFrench-speaking corporal, and from him learnt that there was anefficient motor-repairer in Huy, whose place of business faced themarket square.
It was exhausting work pushing the two motor-bicycles along theundulating, rough cobbled road in the fierce glare of the August sun.The crowd followed.
About a quarter of a mile farther along the road a chasseur passed.Reining in his horse he addressed the corporal.
"What, then, has happened, Pierre?"
The Belgian non-com. shrugged his shoulders.
"Only two German tourists, Gaston," he replied. "They have had anaccident."
"German!" exclaimed Kenneth indignantly. "You are wrong. We areEnglish."
"Can Monsieur produce proof?" asked the corporal.
Fortunately both lads possessed _permits de circulation_--documentsissued to foreign tourists on entering French territory, and which theyhad not given up at the _douane_ at Givet. On each document was pasteda photograph of the bearer and particulars of his name, nationality,occupation, and place of abode.
In less than a minute the indifferent demeanour of the crowd underwenta complete change. Amid shouts of "Vivent les Anglais!" several of theBelgians took possession of the two motor-cycles, and, in spite offrequent wobblings, pushed them right into the town.
Here another set-back greeted the tourists. The repairer gravelyinformed them that a new magneto was absolutely necessary, and since hehad not one in stock he would be obliged to send to Brussels for it.
Under the circumstances an enforced stay would have to be made at Huy,so the lads booked a room at a modest but cheerful-looking hotel. Thetown and environs seemed delightfully picturesque, and, althoughKenneth chafed under the delay, both lads eventually admitted theymight have been hung up in many a worse place than Huy.
The next day, Sunday, they were awakened early by a clamour in thestreet, and found that newsvendors were doing a roaring trade. Thepapers were full of sensational reports, and although definite news wasnot forthcoming, it was quite evident that the war clouds were rapidlygathering.
Rollo, the cautious, suggested the abandonment of the Liege trip and ahasty return home, but Kenneth set his face against any such proposal.
"Look here," he said, "if there's any truth in this report, and Englanddoes chip in, we will do no good by returning home. The powers that behave decided that we are not yet of an age to take up a commission,although I flatter myself that we are both better men than Tompkins,late of the Upper Sixth, who was gazetted to a line regiment a weekbefore the holidays, you'll remember. If there is a dust-up we'll tryour luck with the French. They don't object to fellows of sixteen, solong as they are keen. Take the case of Lord Kitchener, for instance.He served as a cadet in the war of '70 and '71."
"Don't be in such a violent hurry, old man. Stick to our originalprogramme and go to Liege, if you will. It may be necessary for us tolook after your sister, you know."
"I don't think so; I firmly believe that Belgium
will be left out ofthe business. This scare will be over in a few days. The pen ismightier than the sword, you know, so Germany will respect her plightedword to preserve the neutrality of both Holland and Belgium."
It was nearly noon on Monday morning when the lads wended their way tothe motor-repairer's. Outside the burgomaster's house a huge crowd hadgathered. The chief magistrate was making ready to read a document.It was a copy of the momentous ultimatum from the bully of Europe toone of the smallest of her neighbours: a peremptory demand that theBelgian Government should allow the legions of the Kaiser to passthrough Belgium in order to attack the least-defended frontier ofFrance, and threatening to make war upon the little buffer State shouldshe refuse.
A dead silence greeted the burgomaster's announcement. The news,though not unexpected, was astounding.
Again he spoke:
"Fellow-townsmen! I can assure you that the spirit of independencelives amongst us. We will resist to the death this outrageous demand.Nor are we without powerful friends. Listen to the words of an appealof our heroic Sovereign to the King of England: 'Remembering thenumerous proofs of your Majesty's friendship and that of yourpredecessors, and the friendly attitude of England in 1870, and theproof of friendship you have just given us again, I make a supremeappeal to the diplomatic intervention of your Majesty's Government tosafeguard the integrity of Belgium."
"And what is the reply of the King of England?" shouted a voice.
"If it has been received it has not up to the present been communicatedto me," replied the chief magistrate pompously. "Rest assured that I,your burgomaster, will not be tardy in keeping the worthy burgessesfully posted with the latest news from the capital. If any of youstill have faith in German promises, let me inform you it is definitelyestablished that the German troops have already invaded the independentGrand Duchy of Luxemburg."
The burgomaster withdrew, leaving the townsfolk to shout "Down withGermany!" "Long live England!" and cheer madly for their young king,who was yet to display proof of his personal courage.
"It's getting serious," admitted Kenneth as the chums resumed theirway. "I don't mind owning I was wrong in my opinion of German honesty.If they don't draw the line at Luxemburg they evidently won't atBelgium. Rollo, my boy, it's a mortal cert that Great Britain will bescrapping with Germany in less than a week."
The Dispatch-Riders: The Adventures of Two British Motor-cyclists in the Great War Page 2