The Dispatch-Riders: The Adventures of Two British Motor-cyclists in the Great War

by Percy F. Westerman

  CHAPTER XXIII

  A Bolt from the Blue

  At seven the following morning the two guards were relieved. Duringthe night they had been stolidly indifferent to everything that wastaking place. They permitted their prisoners liberty of action withinthe limits of the room, but they maintained a ceaseless vigilance,keeping their loaded rifles within arm's-length the whole of the time.

  The new guards were men of a different stamp. Their first act uponbeing left with their charges was to compel the lads to leave thewindow and take up a position in one corner of the room. At the firstattempt at conversation between the two chums the Germans would shoutthreats which, although unintelligible as words, left no doubt as totheir significance.

  An hour later a very meagre repast was brought in for the prisoners,the soldiers making a thorough examination of the food before the ladswere allowed to partake of it. This was a precautionary measure, lestsome communication might have been secreted; but the fact that theirfood had been coarsely handled by the Germans did not make it any themore appetizing. Nevertheless Kenneth and his companion, now almostfamished, attacked the meal with avidity.

  Just before noon a motor-car drew up outside the house. The guardssprang to their feet, adjusted the straps of their equipment, seizedtheir rifles, and drew themselves up as stiff as ramrods. The expectedarrival they knew to be a person of consequence.

  It was Colonel von Koenik. He was civil, almost apologetic, to theEnglish prisoners.

  "I trust that you were not disturbed by last night's business," heremarked. "There was a serious riot amongst the Belgian townsfolk.Our troops were treacherously attacked, and in self-defence they werecompelled to fire some of the houses. Unfortunately the flames spreadconsiderably, in spite of our efforts to the contrary.

  "If you wish to write to your friends in England," he continued, "youare at liberty to do so, and I will see that the letters are forwardedto Holland. Paper and writing materials will be provided. You willunderstand that all communications must be left unsealed."

  He paused for a moment, then in more deliberate tones said:

  "It would doubtless be interesting to your fellow-countrymen if youmentioned last night's riot. Englishmen are supposed to pridethemselves upon their love of fair play. Our act ofnecessary--absolutely necessary--self-defence will certainly bedistorted by these Belgians. The written evidence of two Englishmensuch as yourselves will do much to remove a wrong impression.Meanwhile, until writing materials can be produced, you are at libertyto take exercise in the garden."

  "What is that fellow driving at?" asked Rollo, when the two chums,still watched by their guards, found themselves in a secluded gardenenclosed on three sides by a high brick wall. "There's somethingbehind his eagerness for us to write home."

  "We'll take the chance anyway," replied Kenneth; "only I vote we makeno mention of last night's affair. Of course his version might beright, but I doubt it."

  Accordingly the prisoners spent half an hour in writing to theirrespective parents. The epistles were couched in guarded terms. Therewas nothing to indicate that they had been harshly treated; no mentionof the manner of their arrest. Nor was there a word about thedestructive fire in Louvain.

  When the Colonel reappeared the unsealed envelopes were handed to him.Without a word or a gesture he read them through, then wrote somethingon the envelopes.

  "These are in order, gentlemen," he remarked. "You may now seal them,and they will be carefully forwarded."

  But months later the chums learnt that the letters had never beendelivered. There was a good reason, for von Koenik took the firstopportunity of destroying them.

  "There is some news for you," remarked the Colonel. "Yesterday ourarmies occupied Namur. The forts were helpless against our wonderfulsiege guns. Our Zeppelins have destroyed nearly the whole of Antwerp;our fleet has signally defeated the British in the North Sea. Yourflagship, the _Iron Duke_, is sunk, together with seven Dreadnoughts.Jellicoe is slain, and the rest of the English fleet is bottled up inthe Forth. Your little army in Belgium is already on the retreat; itwill be hopelessly smashed before it reaches Maubeuge. Our troops willbe in Paris within a week--and then?"

  The Colonel paused, expecting to see dismay painted on the faces of hislisteners. Instead, Kenneth coolly raised his eyebrows.

  "Indeed?" he drawled. "Do you, Herr Colonel, really believe all that?"

  Von Koenik suppressed a gesture of annoyance.

  "Certainly," he replied. "It is in our official reports. If youpossessed sufficient culture to be in a position to read and speak ourlanguage, you could see it with your own eyes. We are winningeverywhere. Now, perhaps, to save further unpleasantness you will tellme the actual reason why you were in the Belgian service?"

  "Merely our inclination to help in a just cause. We happened to be onthe spot, the opportunity occurred, and we took it."

  The Colonel bit his lips. He was confident that the prisoners wereactually persons of military importance, sent over to Belgium by theBritish Government, and possessing valuable information concerning theAllies' plan of campaign. He considered it well worth his while tocajole or threaten them into surrendering their secret, but, up to thepresent, he was forced to admit that his attempts had met with verylittle success.

  Apart from the lax code of German military morals his procedure hadbeen extremely irregular. The so-called trial was before an illegallyconstituted court. The proper authorities had not been informed of theEnglishmen's arrest, trial, and sentence. Yet he considered that hewas furthering the interests of the Kaiser and the German nation bywresting the secret of the object of the lads' presence in Belgium fromthem by the likeliest methods at his disposal.

  Colonel von Koenik was on his way to take up a staff appointment atVerviers, a strategically important Belgian town on the Germanfrontier, and a few miles from Liege, and on the direct railway linebetween that city and Aix-la-Chapelle. Here he could keep hisprisoners in safety, relying upon the wearing-down tactics, backed bythe threat of what would happen when the victorious Germans enteredParis, to compel the two Englishmen to surrender their supposedimportant secret.

  It was not until after dark that same day that Kenneth and Rollo wereconveyed in a closed carriage to the railway station at Louvain. VonKoenik was greatly anxious to conceal from them the stupendous amountof wanton damage done to the town. So far he succeeded; and, inpartial ignorance of the fate of Louvain and the actual causes that ledto its sack and destruction, the lads were escorted to a troop-trainwhich was about to return to Aix, laden with wounded German soldierswhose fighting days were over.

  For the next ten or twelve days Kenneth and Rollo existed in a state ofrigorous captivity. They were placed in a small store-room of thecommissariat department at Verviers. A sentry was posted without, butotherwise their privacy was not intruded upon except when a soldierbrought their meals.

  This man, a corporal of the Landwehr, was a grey-haired fellow nearlysixty years of age. A great portion of his life had been spent inEngland. Von Koenik had detailed him to attend upon the prisoners inorder that he might communicate to them the progress of the victoriousGermans towards Paris.

  Max--for that was the corporal's name--was admirably adapted to thepurpose. He could speak English with tolerable fluency; he implicitlybelieved all the stories that had been told him of the wide-worldGerman success, and, believing, he retailed the information with suchbland fidelity that at first his listeners had to think that he reallywas speaking the truth.

  He was also genuinely attentive to his charges, and before long Kennethand Rollo appreciated his visits although they did not welcome the newshe brought.

  "Ach, you English boys!" he would exclaim. They were always addressedas "English boys" by Corporal Max, somewhat to their chagrin. "Ach!It has been a bad day for your little army. Much more bad thanyesterday. To-day the remains of the English army, it has fled towardsParis. Our Taubes have almost nearly the city destroyed by bom
bs."

  The next day Max would appear with the tidings that General French wasstill running away. Vast numbers of English and French prisoners hadbeen taken. The German losses had been insignificant.

  This was followed by a lurid description of the retreat of the Alliesacross the Marne and then over the Aisne.

  "Paris, too, is in panic. The French Government, it has run away tothe south of France. And our navy, it is great. Yesterday a seabattle took place. The Admiral Jellicoe's flagship the _Iron Duke_ wassunk by our submarines----"

  "Hold on!" exclaimed Kenneth. "Colonel von Koenik told us that the_Iron Duke_ was sunk more than a fortnight ago."

  Max shrugged his shoulders.

  "You English are so deceitful. Ach! They must have given to anothership the same name. Dover is in flames, and London bombarded has beenby our Zeppelins. Ireland is revolted, and the Irish have proclaimedour Kaiser as King----"

  "Steady, Max!" exclaimed Rollo expostulatingly.

  "But it is so," protested the corporal.

  The next day Max's report was one of indefinite progress. During thethree following he made no mention of the brilliant feats of Germanarms. Kenneth rallied him on this point.

  "How far are the Germans from Paris to-day, Max?"

  For the first time Max showed signs of irritability. By accident hehad seen in Colonel von Koenik's quarters a report of the check of theGerman armies' progress, and of their eastward movement. Followingthis came the news of von Kluck's defeat and disorderly retirementacross the Marne. Too stupidly honest to keep the news to himself,Corporal Max blurted out the information that the advance upon Parishad been temporarily abandoned.

  "If it were not for the treacherous English," he added--"they arealways meddling with other nations' business--we would have walkedthrough the French and in Paris have been. Peace would be forced uponthe French, and then I could return home to my wife."

  "But you told us that the British army was practically annihilated,Max," exclaimed Kenneth gleefully.

  "You English boys, I tell you word for word what was told me,"protested Max in high dudgeon. "If you mock, then no more will I say."

  "Can we see Colonel von Koenik, Max?"

  The corporal looked at Kenneth in astonishment.

  "You have no complaint against me?" he asked.

  "Not in the least," replied Kenneth affably. "But we should very muchlike to see the Colonel."

  Max delivered the message, but von Koenik did not put in an appearance.Incidentally he discovered that the corporal had let out the momentousnews of von Kluck's defeat, and Max had a very warm quarter of an hourin consequence. As a result, a surly Prussian was given the work oflooking after the two English prisoners, and Max passed out of thelads' knowledge.

  September had well advanced. Kenneth and Rollo still existed incaptivity, without the faintest opportunity of effecting their escape.Had there been the slightest chance of breaking out of their prisonthey would have taken it, but the vigilance of the sentries postedoutside the place seemed untiring.

  About the twentieth of the month--the lads had lost all accurate ideaof the date--there were signs of more than usual activity in Verviers.A cavalry brigade had arrived, accompanied by a huge transport column.

  From the solitary window of their room the prisoners were able towitness many of the movements of the troops. The square in front ofthe range of stores was packed with transport wagons, both motor andhorse. The horses were picketed in lines between the regular rows ofvehicles. The drivers stood by their charges, instead of beingbilleted on the inhabitants. Everything pointed to a hurriedly resumedjourney.

  Presently Kenneth and his chum noticed that the Germans were deeplyinterested in something above and beyond the storehouse in which thelads were quartered.

  A few men would point skywards, others would follow their example, tillevery soldier in the square was gazing in the air. Then above the humof suppressed excitement came the unmistakable buzz of an aerialpropeller.

  "Air-craft!" ejaculated Kenneth.

  "Taubes, most likely," added his companion; "otherwise the troops wouldbe blazing away instead of merely looking on."

  The words were hardly out of his mouth when the scene underwent acomplete change. Horses plunged and reared, some falling and kickingmadly on the ground. Men ran hither and thither, seeking shelter,while several of them pitched upon their faces. Yet not a sound washeard of an explosion. A mysterious and silent death was stalkingamidst the German transport. Overhead the drone of the propellerincreased, yet the aeroplane was invisible from the lads' outlook.

  Something struck the stones of the courtyard a few feet from theirwindow. It was a small featherless steel arrow, one of thousands thata French aviator had let loose upon the astonished and terrifiedGermans.

  Simultaneously there was a crash in the room. Turning, the occupantsmade the discovery that three of the darts had completely penetratedthe tiles of the roof and had buried themselves three inches deep inthe oaken floor.

  "Keep close to the wall," exclaimed Kenneth; "it is the safest place."

  "It's all over now," announced Rollo after a brief interval. "Thereshe goes!"

  He pointed to a monoplane gliding gracefully at an altitude of aboutfive hundred feet. He could just distinguish a tricolour painted oneach tip of the main plane. A desultory but increasing rifle-fireannounced its departure, and, unruffled, the air-craft sailed serenelyout of sight.

  "Pretty effective weapon," remarked Kenneth, vainly endeavouring towrench one of the darts from the floor. "They must hit with terrificforce. I wonder how they were discharged?"

  "Simply dropped by the hundred, I should imagine," replied Rollo. "Theforce of gravity is sufficient to give them a tremendous velocity afterdropping a few hundred feet. I guess they've knocked these fellows'time-table out."

  The drivers and several cavalrymen had now emerged from theirhiding-places, and were carrying their less-fortunate comrades from thescene. A few of the latter were moaning, but most of them had beenslain outright. The "flechettes", or steel darts, had in several casesstruck their victims on the head, and had passed completely throughtheir bodies. In addition to about thirty casualties, nearly a hundredhorses were either killed on the spot or were so badly injured thatthey had to be dispatched. Several of the motor-wagons, too, weretemporarily disabled by the terrible missiles. Clearly it was out ofthe question that the convoy could proceed that day.

  Darkness set in. The work of repairing the damaged vehicles stillproceeded briskly by the aid of the powerful acetylene lamps fixed uponthe parapets of the surrounding buildings. Fresh animals were beingbrought up to take the horse-wagons away, in order to make room for theartificers to proceed with their work. The square echoed and re-echoedto the clanging of hammers and the rasping of saws, and the gutturalexclamations of the workmen.

  Kenneth and Rollo had no thoughts of going to bed. Usually, as soon asit was dark they would throw themselves upon their straw mattresses,for lights were not allowed them. But now the excitement, increased bycontrast to their monotonous existence, banished all idea of sleep.

  Crash! A blaze of vivid light that out-brillianced the concentratedglare of the lamps flashed skywards, followed almost immediately by adeafening report. Windows were shattered, tiles flew from the roofs.The walls of the room in which the two lads were standing shookviolently.

  "A shell!" exclaimed Rollo.

  "A bomb!" corrected Kenneth, for in the brief lull that followed couldbe heard the noise of an air-craft. Either the same or another Frenchairman was honouring the Germans at Verviers with a second visit.

  Twenty seconds later another explosion occurred at the back of thebuilding. With a terrific crash one of the outer walls was blown in; aportion of the roof collapsed; the floor, partially ripped up, swayedlike the deck of a vessel in the trough of an angry sea.

  Kenneth found himself on the floor, rendered temporarily deaf andcovered with fragments of plaster
and broken tiles, and smothered indust.

  Staggering to his feet he groped for his companion, for the place wasin total darkness, the force of the detonation having extinguished allthe lamps in the vicinity. His hand came in contact with Rollo's hair.

  "Steady on, old man; don't scalp me," expostulated Barrington.

  "What do you say?" asked his companion. Rollo repeated the protest,shouting in order to enable Kenneth to hear what he said.

  "Hurt?"

  "Not a bit of it; but we may be if we hang on here."

  Another fall of rafters and tiles confirmed the speaker's surmise;then, as the cloud of acrid smoke and dust slowly dispersed, they couldsee a patch of starlight where a few moments before had been a blankwall.