by W E Johns
'What abart it? What d'yer want to break in for?'
'I can't get my pals out without getting in to them first, can I, you chump?' demanded Ginger. 'Besides, there's another thing,' he went on; 'I fancy people will be looking for me. They know I'm down; they'll guess it was me who pinched the motor bike; but the last place they'll think of looking for me is in their own perishing prison camp. Come on.' As he finished speaking he darted forward to the edge of the road, but remained concealed behind some bushes.
The prisoners, in a rough column, picks and shovels at the slope, drew level. At intervals on either side marched the guards, rifles at the ready.
Ginger stepped forward and sidled into the ranks, Summers, muttering incoherently, with him. He fell into step. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw one of the guards hurrying forward, peering into the ranks. He took no notice, but he held his breath. The guard said something in Spanish. One of the men answered. What he said Ginger did not know, but it raised a titter of laughter.
The guard muttered something and dropped back into his place.
Ginger nudged his companion and marched on.
Chapter 18
Behind Barbed Wire
Twilight was closing in as Ginger, in the column of war prisoners, marched through the barbed wire gate of the camp, which had been opened by sentries for that purpose.
Looking around with acute interest, for much was likely to depend upon familiarity with these surroundings, he saw at once that the place was, in every sense of the word, a compound. Nothing more or less. An area of perhaps two acres had been enclosed with a closely stranded barbed wire fence about ten feet high; the strands were about six inches apart, and along the top one, at intervals, hung an assortment of bells— sheep bells, mule bells, and the like. He perceived that it would be impossible for any one to climb over the fence without one or more bells jangling. At each of the four corners of the camp a high pole had been erected to carry an electric lamp, with the reflector so adjusted as to throw the light into the camp. Cover there was none. Being summer time and warm, this was a matter of no great importance; the question of what would happen in the winter did not arise, for Ginger knew that it was unlikely that he would be there.
This camp had been pitched on gently rising ground, at the top end of which was another, smaller, fenced-in area, in the centre of which was situated a long hutment built of squared timber with a corrugated iron roof. Two smaller ones were just beyond it, one of which, according to Summers, was a guardhouse, and the other a washing-place.
In the large enclosure there had been, when the column marched into it, some forty or fifty men, dirty, unshaven, in various stages of raggedness. Some were lying, some were sitting, and a few were standing up. Most of these men wore bandages, and Ginger did not need Summers to tell him that they had been wounded. The men who had been out working on the road numbered perhaps a hundred, so with the wounded and unwounded the camp appeared to be fairly full, although when the men gathered into groups there was plenty of space between them.
There were not more than a dozen men in the smaller enclosure, in groups of two or three, or standing alone. Being now free to go where he wished within the compound, it was towards this smaller enclosure Ginger made his way.
'There's Jock, standing by himself near the wire,' said Summers in a low voice. 'Don't be long,' he added, as Ginger hurried forward. 'The grub will be brought in any minute, and if you ain't there you won't get none.'
'Go and grab me some; I can do with it,' Ginger told him, and went on.
As he drew nearer he saw, somewhat to his disappointment, that there was a double fence between the two compounds, the dividing gangway being about a yard wide, probably to allow a sentry to make a complete round. This compound was not floodlit, however, for a reason which Ginger was presently to learn.
He went to the limit of the wire and whistled softly.
Jock looked round at once, and then walked slowly down the hill. He quickened his pace when he saw who was waiting for him. 'Losh! if it isn't Ginger,' he exclaimed. 'So they got ye. How was that?'
'I was shot down this morning,' answered Ginger.
'Ye weren't alone, chasing a Caproni, were ye?'
'I was.'
'Then I saw ye over the top o' yon hill. I didna see the finish, but I saw the race. Were ye daft, mon, to come so far ower?'
'Maybe,' replied Ginger. 'But listen, Jock. This is important. Have you still got the letter, or did they take it off you?'
'I've still got it. I remembered it just as I was going to take off, so in case of accidents, having no wish to be shot as a spy, I tucked it in the lining of my coat. It's still there.'
Ginger's heart leapt at this news. 'That's fine,' he declared. 'Now tell me, did you see two new prisoners arrive a few minutes ago?'
'I did.'
'Where are they?'
'In the big hut—locked in, I fancy.'
'Are you all in there together?'
'No. There's a big room for the ordinary prisoners, and some smaller rooms for specials—mostly politicals. There's a corridor runs richt along, but there's always a sentry on duty. Why d'ye ask?'
'Those two are my pals. I've got to get them out.'
'How d'ye reckon to do that?'
Ginger thought swiftly.
'Make haste, noo,' put in Jock. 'They'll be calling us in verra soon.'
'Do you mean—they lock you in at night?'
'Certainly.'
'Gosh! That doesn't make it any easier,' muttered Ginger. Then he went on quickly, 'Are there windows in the small rooms?'
'Yes, but they're barred. What are yon lights, I wonder?' Jock pointed to the distant hills. They were winking with small lights.
'Oh, I suppose they're looking for me,' Ginger told him. 'They don't know I'm in here. I got in with the prisoners.'
Jock began laughing, but Ginger cut him off. 'Will you try to get a message to my friends?' he said in a tense, swift voice. 'Tell them to be ready in case I come. Tell them to sing or whistle occasionally, so that I shall know where they are. I've tools in my pocket. Give them this; they may be able to cut through the bars.' Ginger tossed the small file across the gangway.
Jock caught it. 'They'd be a week, with this,' he depressed Ginger by saying.
'How many sentries are on duty at once?' asked Ginger.
'Only one at the hut, but there are others outside.'
'What time does the moon rise?' Ginger had for-gotten.
'Aboot an hour or so after sundown, I think.'
'Then I shall be through before then,' declared Ginger. 'One more thing. Does the sentry carry the keys of the rooms?'
'Ay, in case any one wants to go across to the lavabo.'
'O.K.', returned Ginger. 'Keep awake—you might hear something. I'll get you out, too, if I can; then we'll pinch a machine and fly home.'
T think ye're daft. Have ye got a machine?'
'No, but I know where there is one.'
Orders were now being shouted from the hut. The lights were switched on.
'I'll hae to be gettin' along, ye ken, or they'll be doon to see what's going on,' said Jock. 'Cheerio, in case I don't see ye again. Or maybe I'll see ye in the morning.' A parting wave, and he turned and walked quickly up the hill towards the hut.
Ginger, deep in thought, made his way slowly down to where all the prisoners in his compound were congregated in one of the corners. He guessed that the food was being served out, and his guess was right, for he saw Summers detach himself from the crowd and come towards him with several pieces of broken bread in his hands.
'There was some soup, but I had nuffin' to carry it in,' he said apologetically.
'That's all right; I'm not very interested in food at the moment. A piece of bread will do me. Is there any water about?'
'There's a tap in the corner—and a wash tub,' Sum-mers told him.
Ginger, eating the plain bread, made his way towards it. By the time he had had a drink and put his
head under the tap, which was as near as he could get to a wash, for soap was not provided, it was almost dark. A few stars twinkled in the deep blue vault of the sky, but they were dimmed by the electric arc lamps, which threw an eerie glow over the compound where most of the prisoners, weary after a day's hard work, were settling down for the night. Ginger was glad to see that most of them chose the lower end, which was the part farthest away from the officers' quarters.
He shook the water out of his eyes, and brushed his hair back with his hands. 'Come over here, Fred; I want to talk to you,' he said softly, and leading the way to the top end of the enclosure, sat down midway between the two corner lights, where, of course, their effect was least noticeable. 'You know what I'm going to try to do to-night, don't you?' he went on.
'Yes.'
'Then what you've got to decide is whether you play in with me or whether you keep right out of the way, because if we're caught I expect there will be the devil to pay.'
'That don't take long to settle,' answered Summers, without hesitation. 'I'm with you. What else did yer fink I'd do?'
'Nothing else,' smiled Ginger. 'O.K., then. Now the job we're faced with isn't going to be easy. It may end in bloodshed, because once I start I'm not going back, the reason being that if I fail—well, this opportunity will never occur again. Tell me, when you were taken prisoner were any other fellows taken too—I mean fellows I know—fellows in our particular battalion of the Brigade?'
'Blimey, yes! There were about twenty of us trapped in the same bit of trench. There was Chris Fowler from Liverpool—you remember'im—and Jim 'Arris from Manchester. Then there was Abe Morris—I dunno where 'e came from—and Bob Donovan, the Yankee—'
'All right, that's enough,' interrupted Ginger. 'I just wanted to know if there are any fellows we could trust.'
'Strewth, yer needn't worry about that. That lot'd knock anybody's block off for a packet o' gaspers. What do yer want 'em ter do?'
'I'm not quite sure yet—I was just wondering. You see, I've had quite a bit of this sort of thing before, and it's always best to start with some sort of plan. This is How I see it so far. We've got to cut the two bottom strands of this wire; that ought to be enough for us to wriggle under. Then we've got to do the same thing the other side of the gangway to get into the officers' camp. That's certain. There's no other way in. Next, we've got to get up to the hut. That shouldn't be hard, because it's dark and the lights don't reach that far. We then locate my pals—one of them's my boss, really. I've arranged for that. They're going to whistle or sing—at least, I hope so. Then we've got to stick up the guard—or knock him on the head. That's going to be the hardest part, and that's where I thought the other fellers might come in. If we could arrange some sort of row, a distraction, the guards would be bound to go down to see what's going on, and so give us a better chance. Follow me?'
"Course I do. I remember one night down the old Mile End Road-'
'Yes; well, never mind about that now. Wait till we get there. You go down and ask those fellows if they'll kick up a row when we give the signal, not before. I'm going to make a start on this wire.'
'What you say suits me,' declared Summers. He walked away across the dimly lit compound.
Ginger turned over and, lying flat on his stomach, began to work on the bottom strand of wire. Progress was slow. For one thing the wire was tough, and for another he had to keep a furtive look-out for sentries. Once he had to stop work and feign sleep as a sentry walked slowly through the gangway; the soldier stopped, looked down at him for a moment, and then walked on.
Ginger gave him a few minutes to get clear and then resumed his task. His wrists ached; blisters began to form on his fingers, but he stuck to it. Presently he had the satisfaction of hearing the strands of wire part with a soft whang. He was struggling with the next when Summers returned.
'The boys'll play up when you say the word,' he announced.
'Splendid,' whispered Ginger. 'Take a turn on this wire, will you? My wrists are giving out. I'll keep cave.' He handed the pliers to Summers, who, possibly because his hands were better suited to the task, made quicker work of the second strand.
Ginger looked around cautiously. He could see sentries under the lights in the distance, but none near. 'Right! Slip across and cut those on the other side,' he whispered. 'You're better at this than I am, but I'll give you a turn if your wrists give out. Keep as flat on the ground as you can; I'll haul you back by the heels if I see any one coming.'
Between them they were best part of half an hour cutting the two strands that would give them access to the officers' enclosure. Ginger, who had finished the job, slid back to the men's compound, where Summers was keeping guard.
'I've been thinking,' he whispered. 'There's no way that I see to give the boys a signal. We shall have to work on a time limit. Go and tell them to start yelling, or fighting—anything they like—in an hour, or as near as they can judge. The bigger row they can kick up, the better.'
Summers was away for about ten minutes. 'That's all fixed,' he said when he came back.
'Then we'll go over,' answered Ginger.
After a careful inspection of their immediate surroundings, they dragged themselves under the two fences, rearranging the ends of the wires as far as they were able, to conceal the fact that they had been cut. Then, keeping flat against the ground, they wormed their way up the slope of the officers' enclosure. It was slow work at first, but once out of the radius of light cast by the arc lamps, they were able to move faster, and Ginger, keeping well away from the hut, headed for the top side of the wired-in area.
'Where are you goin'?' breathed Summers.
'I've got to cut a way out of this pen before we tackle the hut,' Ginger told him in a whisper. 'At present the only way out of the camp is down the gangway, and that would take us under one of the lights. It's dark up at the top, so it would be much better to go that way.'
Summers evidently realized the common sense of this precaution, for he made no answer. Side by side, pausing frequently to listen—for it was too dark for them to see much—they crept on towards the top of the slope, and so reached the wire, where, again, they cut the two lower strands. It took them longer than before on account of the state of their hands, and Ginger was perspiring with impatience and strain by the time the job was done.
'So far, so good,' he announced. 'Now for the hut. We've no time to lose. It must be three-quarters of an hour since you spoke to the boys, and the moon will be up any minute now.'
It was so dark now that they could risk walking a short distance towards the huts, the vague silhouette of which they could see about eighty yards away. As they drew nearer they dropped on to their hands and knees, and from this position made a visual exploration of their objective.
The main hut was about a hundred feet long. One side of it was in darkness, but from the windows on the other side came a soft yellow glow. This, Ginger assumed, came from the narrow corridor which ran the full length of the building—the corridor which was patrolled by a sentry. Facing this lighted side, twenty yards away, was the guardroom. The door was shut, but a bright beam of light from a single window cut through the darkness and made a yellow square on the grass midway between the two huts. The ablution hut was in darkness. So much Ginger saw as he knelt, on the rough turf near the end of the prisoners' hut, just out of reach of any reflected light. How many soldiers there were in the guardroom, or whether they were asleep or awake, he did not know; nor did he know which end of the corridor in the prisoners' hut the sentry would be. He could hear no movement, which did not surprise him; having seen something of Spanish sentries, he imagined that the man would be sitting down, for no Spaniard stands when he can sit.
Ginger crept round to the unlighted side of the hut. There was just enough light for him to see a number of small square windows set in the timber at regular intervals. All were heavily barred, and he realized the truth of Jock's remark when he had said that it would take a week to cut through them w
ith a small file. Behind one of the windows, he knew, were Biggles and Algy, but so far there had been nothing to tell him which one. So he waited; and, presently, as he waited, he heard the sound which he had been hoping to hear, it was the sound of a man singing, quietly, as if to himself.
Ginger, crouching low, made his way quickly along the side of the hut and stopped under the window from which the sound appeared to come. As he stood up the song ended abruptly. He could just make out the vague outlines of two faces behind the glass. Reaching up, he tried the bars, but, as he expected—for the hut was almost new—they were secure. They had been screwed in the outside. With a screwdriver he might have taken them off, but there was no time to think about that now. What did upset him was the fact that the window would not open, and as he dare not risk breaking the glass on account of the noise, he had no means of communicating with those inside. Counting from the end, he noted that the room was number three from the bottom end of the hut. And it was at that moment that a wild yell split the air from the camp below.
Whether the 'boys' had misjudged the time, or whether the hour had gone faster than Ginger had supposed, he did not pause to consider. He had reckoned on another five minutes at least, and for a moment this premature fulfilment of the first part of his plan threw him into a state approaching dismay. For the outcry below did not end with a single yell. The cry was followed immediately by others, and the noise so grew in volume that, in the silence of the night, it sounded as if the camp were being attacked by a tribe of wild Indians.
Ginger whipped out his pistol and grabbed Sum-mers' arm. 'Come on,' he said hoarsely, and ran to the end of the hut, arriving there in time to see the door of the guard-room flung open and the occupants, six in number, emerge. After an excited consultation, they set off down the hill at a run; which was, of course, what Ginger had hoped would happen. Below, in the light of the lamps, he could see other figures running towards the scene of disturbance. He waited for no more, but made a dash for the door of the long hut. Thereafter things happened in a sort of frenzy of excitement.