CHAPTER XIV
The Second Night of Liberty
"GOING to make a fight for it?" asked Detroit calmly.
Hamerton shrugged his shoulders.
"Hardly," he replied. "I don't believe in kicking up a fuss whenwe're cornered with no chance of escape. Mind you, if there were anypossibility I'd fight tooth and nail. But there is not. We've had ourfling, and I suppose we must pay the piper. Luckily those brutescan't get to us."
"I cotton to it," agreed the American. "I look upon it as a sort ofThanksgiving Day--a few hours of real enjoyment and then days of hardgraft to follow."
Both men relapsed into silence, and gloomily watched the progress ofevents.
On came the hounds, the mob of excited Germans at their heels. Thenthe animals lost the scent--that is, if they ever picked it up--forturning abruptly they made their way across to the other side of theincline. Hamerton and his companion had never been near that part ofthe ground.
Round and round went the bloodhounds, sniffing and baying. Shouts ofencouragement from their masters failed to meet with the responsethat they desired. Presently one of the large beasts raised its headand opened wide its mouth. The fugitives could see the sharp whiteteeth and the red, frothing tongue of the brute as it gave vent to aprodigious howl.
Then, followed by the rest of the hounds, the animal retraced itssteps until it gained the summit of the slope. Here the baffledtrackers stood still for a brief interval. All inducements to get thedogs to take up the scent failed, and dejectedly their masters ledthem back to the kennels.
"Excellent, by Jove!" exclaimed Hamerton in high spirits. "The pepperdid the trick, after all. Obliging Hans! He deserves a special voteof thanks."
"Guess we aren't out of the wood yet," Detroit reminded him. "What'sthe programme now?"
"Stay here till night," replied the Sub. "Then more investigationsand grub. Man, I feel as if I could eat a joint of beef straightaway. Look here, we'll strip off these wet clothes and hang them upto dry in this draught. To continue wearing them in this state is tocourt disaster. There's a bin of cotton waste; we'll burrow in it andsnatch a few hours' sleep. It's very necessary, I think."
These suggestions were acted upon. A few days previously the two menwould have regarded their proposed bed with the utmost repugnance,but, as Detroit observed, circumstances alter cases.
In less than two minutes the fugitives were sound asleep, utterlyindifferent as to what befell them. Rest and slumber were the onlyantidotes to hunger and bodily and mental fatigue.
"Time to be up," whispered Detroit, shaking his companion by theshoulder. Hamerton roused himself. It was still daylight without,although the sun had set. Ten hours had passed like as many minutes.
Quickly they donned their clothes, which still felt clammy to thetouch. Another sparse and hasty meal was partaken of, during whichHamerton took stock of the surroundings.
Work for the day had apparently ceased. Each of the airship sheds hadbeen closed by means of the sliding steel doors, and the vastartificial basin was deserted. With the setting of the sun the windhad risen, though the velocity was not so great as on the precedingnight. The sky, too, was obscured with heavy clouds. Everythingseemed in favour of the fugitives.
"Now, boss, what's the programme?" demanded Detroit, with forcedjocularity.
"Wait till it's dark, then make our way up the incline, double backalong the top of the cliff, and head towards the north-western partof the island. I shouldn't be surprised if we stumble across somemore wonderful creations of our dearly beloved German cousins."
"But suppose there are sentries posted up there?" asked the American,pointing to the farthermost part of the slope.
"Not much! This place is all enclosed with that barbed-wire fence.That's where the sentries are to be found, and that is what is goingto give us a lot of trouble."
"And when do we make an attempt to seize a boat?"
"Not while this wind is blowing, thank you. Better to prowl abouthalf-starved in a German fortress than to be lying on the bottom ofthe North Sea."
"You cautious critter!" ejaculated Detroit.
"Exactly, my dear fellow. Caution is the modern naval officer's sheetanchor. Caution is instilled into him from the moment he's placed incharge of a ship's boat under sail. No doubt it's the means of oftenneglecting to make full use of an opportunity; but there you are.Modern warfare has no use for fire-eating daredevils; it's thelevel-headed admiral who will win the next great naval war. It'sprosaic, but it's hard facts. Now, easy ahead; it's time to get underway."
Making his way up the vertical iron ladder, Hamerton raised thetrapdoor a few inches and listened intently. All was quiet. Heemerged from his hiding place, waited until Detroit rejoined him,then carefully replaced the cover on the aperture.
Bearing in mind the experience of the previous night, how withoutwarning the place was flooded with light, the Sub and his companionmade their way as stealthily and rapidly as possible to the base ofthe artificial cliff where the incline merged into the circularbasin. Then, keeping close to the wall, they headed towards the upperlevel.
Suddenly Hamerton came to an abrupt halt and stood with his back hardup against the cliff. Detroit did likewise.
Faintly discernible against the loom of the skyline was agreat-coated sentry pacing up and down across the brink of theinclined plane. Barely had he turned to commence another round when asecond sentry appeared on the opposite side. Both met approximatelyin mid-distance, faced about, and retraced their steps.
It was evident that escape in that direction was almost beyond thebounds of possibility.
Awaiting a favourable moment when the nearmost sentry's back wasturned, the fugitives crept cautiously down the slope, never haltingtill they came to the piles of empty casks that had served them sowell less than twenty hours previously.
"Now what's to be done?" asked Hamerton.
"Have a shot at those steel ladders--the ones between the Zeppelinsheds."
"By Jove, smart idea of yours, old man! The sooner the better."
Without mishap the two comrades gained the base of one of the laddersthat reared itself vertically to a height of nearly two hundred feet.It was to be a climb that would tax their powers of endurance to theuttermost.
"Gently does it," cautioned Hamerton. "One limb at a time, mind, anddon't look down. Up you go."
With this parting injunction in his mind Detroit commenced to mount,making sure of each rung before he moved a step higher. He realizedthat a slip might result in the loss of his comrade's life as well asof his own.
The American was in excellent training, although somewhat handicappedfor want of proper food. His muscles were flexible, his grip as firmas iron; nevertheless, by the time he gained the cross-platformconnecting the ladders at a level slightly above the arch of theairship shed he was glad to sit down and rest.
"All right?" asked Hamerton anxiously.
"Guess I am," was the reply. "Now for the last lap."
Detroit spoke cheerfully, but the "last lap" was roughly three timesthe height of the portion already climbed.
Doggedly the two men stuck to their task. Once Detroit whispered thatone of the rungs felt insecure. Beyond that not a word was spoken.
Hamerton could hear the American's laboured breaths. His own heartwas throbbing violently against his ribs, his arms felt as heavy aslead, while the muscles of his calves had a decided tendency to"bunch"--the forerunner of the dreaded cramp.
Many a time during his terms at Dartmouth he had climbed over thefore-topmast crosstrees of the old hulk _Britannia_. In those days hehad thought nothing of it, but now, unaccustomed to strenuousexercises of that sort, he felt the severity of the task.
Detroit was slackening his pace now. A few inches above his headHamerton could see the American's heels mount step by step on aseemingly endless task. It reminded him of a pet mouse in a wheel.
Up, up, up! It was by this time little better than a tedious crawl.Once or twice the American stopped to
regain his breath, and thenplodded resolutely on his upward way. Then, to the Sub's delight, hesaw Detroit lurch forward and throw up his heels. His comrade hadreached the summit, and was sprawling, wellnigh exhausted, upon theturf.
Summoning up his remaining energies Hamerton also gained themuch-desired resting place. Side by side they lay drinking in thecool breeze that came straight from the foam-flecked sea, on whichinnumerable lights, like stars on a dark night, twinkled incessantly.
"Time!" ejaculated Hamerton, rolling over and kneeling up. "Now, easyahead; we'll come across another wire entanglement unless I'm verymuch mistaken."
They were now going with the wind--the worst possible direction,since the sound of any danger in front of them was carried away,while their own approach could be heard by any sentry who happened tobe to leeward.
Thirty yards from the edge they threw themselves upon the grass.Within a stone's throw was a great-coated figure standing stockstill.It was one of the chain of sentries guarding the barbed-wire fencethat completely encircled the secret Zeppelin station.
Motioning with his hand, Detroit indicated that they should make adetour. Hamerton shook his head. He could just distinguish theoutlines of another sentry a hundred yards to the right. "Wait!"whispered the Sub.
Presently the nearest sentry sloped his rifle and began to pace inthe direction of the one Hamerton had discerned to his right. Whenthe two met they evidently indulged in a breach of discipline, foralthough the fugitives heard not a word the sentries were apparentlytalking.
"I want to make sure of the length of his beat," whispered Hamerton."Then the next time he clears out we'll make a dash for the fence."
Back walked the sentry. Stopping for a moment to draw up the collarof his greatcoat, for it was just beginning to rain, he made his waypast the two lurking men and disappeared in the murky darkness.
Presumably the soldier was not on speaking terms with the sentry atthe other end of his beat, for in a very short space of time hereturned. Almost abreast of the fugitives he stopped short, facedoutwards, and levelled his rifle and bayonet, as if somethingsuspicious had attracted his attention. Then, having satisfiedhimself that there was no cause for alarm, he made off towards thepost on his left.
"Now!" whispered Hamerton.
"Just you wait!" replied the American. "Let's shift back a bit."
He pointed towards a speck of light that flickered in the now howlingbreeze.
"It's the rounds, by Jove!" muttered the Sub. "That's right; we'llhide in this hollow and trust to luck."
"Halt! Who goes there?" demanded the sentry in German.
"Rounds," was the reply.
"Advance, rounds; all's well!" exclaimed the soldier, recovering hisrifle.
An officer and a file of men, one of whom held a lantern, cametramping through the long, damp grass. The Sub seemed to feel theglare of the light. Instinctively he buried his face in his arms andhid his bare hands under his coat. For the gleam to fall upon anylight-coloured object was to arouse suspicion.
"Anything to report?" demanded the officer.
"No, sir. Once I fancied I saw one of the bloodhounds."
"Then don't fancy. I may as well tell you that the dogs are safelychained up. It would go ill with some of you men if they were atlarge on a night like this. Besides, the hounds are too valuable torisk being shot by an imaginative sentry. Now, remember, challengeonce only and then fire, should any suspicious person approach yourpost. It means promotion to the man who succeeds in shooting orcapturing those troublesome spies."
"'IT'S THE ROUNDS, BY JOVE!' WHISPERED THE SUB"]
The rounds passed on. The sentry resumed his walk without attemptingto give the salute. This Hamerton noticed particularly. As in theBritish Army, it was forbidden to give or acknowledge complimentsafter sunset. This knowledge he hoped to profit by, since it waswithin the bounds of possibility to impersonate a German officer andthus get safely away in one of the boats at the beach of theUnterland.
"Now!" whispered the Sub once more.
Silently the two comrades made their way to the fence. This time thelowermost wire was set up taut, and Hamerton had the greatestdifficulty in holding it up sufficiently for Detroit to crawl clearof the sharp barbs. Before the sentry had set out on his return beatthe fugitives had put a safe distance between them and thatparticular danger.
They were now within a hundred yards or so of Sathurn, thenorthernmost part of Heligoland, that terminates in a sheer cliff onehundred and sixty-six feet in height. Close to the point rises adetached pinnacle of rock, known as Hengst, its summit being onlythree feet lower than that of Sathurn.
"You stop here," whispered Hamerton. "The sentries seem as thick asflies. I'm going to crawl a few yards. One may escape detection wheretwo will not."
With this injunction the Sub left his companion, and on all-foursmade his way towards the extremity of the cliff. On his left was abuilding that a few years previously had been used as a fog-signalhouse. A light was burning within, and the sharp click of a shuttertold the Sub that someone was using a Morse signalling apparatus.
Profiting by the glare, Hamerton crawled closer. The door of the hutwas ajar. Within were several engineers standing by in readiness towork a powerful searchlight. To the left of the hut, and protectedfrom leeward by a mound of earth, was a long metal cylinder abouteighteen inches in diameter. A stray beam of light showed Hamertonthat one end of this object was carefully covered by a tarpaulin.
"What's this arrangement, I wonder?" he thought. "Looks like a sort oftorpedo tube. I'll----"
His hands clutched at empty air, he lurched forward, up went hisheels, and the next instant he felt himself falling.
Like a flash the thought went through his brain: "I'm done for thistime--I've toppled over the cliff." Yet not a sound escaped his lips,even when completely taken aback by the sudden plunge.
With a dull thud Hamerton alighted on his hunched shoulders.Instinctively he kept his head well under, and this saved him abroken neck. Inertly he rolled over on his side, wondering where hewas and how far he had fallen. Nor could he help expecting to see thesoldiers from the hut, who must have heard the noise of his fall.
A minute or so went by. No curious soldier appeared on the edge ofthe pit or whatever it was. He began to consider how he could escape.
"Solid steel, by Jove!" he exclaimed softly, tapping the substanceon which he had fallen. He stood up. He found himself in a circularhollow surrounded by a wall less than six feet in height. The metalfloor was perhaps thirty feet in diameter and slightly domed.
"Looks like the top of a gasometer or an oil-fuel tank," musedHamerton. "I may as well have a short investigation. Can't stop long,or Detroit will be blundering in on top of me. Ah! What's this?"
His foot encountered a raised object. It was an armoured slide ofsome sort. He tried to raise it, but in vain. Then he appliedpressure in a horizontal direction. This resulted in the metal slabsliding and disclosing a pitch-dark cavity.
"Wish I had a match," he muttered. "Well, here goes! I've been inworse holes than this."
His feet encountered the rungs of a ladder. Three downward steps didhe take, then there was a sharp metallic click, followed by a suddenblaze of light.
The Sea-girt Fortress: A Story of Heligoland Page 14