CHAPTER XVII
A DASH FOR LIBERTY
DAY after day, night after night passed with almost intolerabletediousness. The meagre fare, uncomfortable quarters, their motleyclothing, the jeers and taunts of their goalers--all thesediscomforts, unpleasant though they were, could be borne withfortitude bordering on equanimity. It was the dearth of news and theenforced inactivity that weighed so heavily upon the captive Britishofficers.
The Huns knew this and traded upon it. The prisoners would havewelcomed hard labour, provided that it was not of a nature that woulddirectly assist the enemy against their fellow-countrymen. Manuallabour they knew to be a tonic to mental inactivity--a means to keeptheir bodies fit and their muscles in good form. Instead they werepermitted but two hours a day in the grounds, and even then footballor, 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 thecaptives could hear the sea thundering upon the outlying sands--acall of freedom to which they could not respond.
When at frequent intervals the dull booming of cannon was borne totheir ears, they would look at each other with unspoken words ofhope, until they realised that the guns were being fired as practiceand not directed upon the long-expected British assault by sea andair.
Sometimes, too, they could see the giant Zeppelins being guidedcautiously from the huge collapsible sheds. This took place usuallyin the late afternoon, at or about the time of the new moon. Awaywould speed the craven night-raiders in a westerly direction, toreturn with almost unfailing regularity just after dawn. Once,however, a Zeppelin trailed homewards with its after-part saggingominously, and before it could be safely housed, it collapsed, acrumpled heap of girders and torn fabric, upon the ground. Atanother, three airships set out across the North Sea, and only onereturned.
Great was the joy of the prisoners on these occasions. Regardless ofthe threats of their guards, they would give vent to the wildestdemonstrations of joy. But they had to pay for these outbursts. Afurther restriction of their already meagre fare and a completedeprivation of their tobacco and cigarettes was the unfailingpenalty. It was worth the punishment, to "let themselves go" over theunquestionable loss of yet another of the Huns' vaunted gas-bags.Amongst the highly organised methods adopted by the Germans for thedefence of Sylt was the practice of sending up a couple ofobservation balloons by day whenever a Zeppelin was not cruisingoverhead. These strangely shaped balloons were in the form of an egg,with a curved cylinder attached to the end in order to prevent thecontrivance from rotating under the influence of air-currents. To theobservation 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 theground. At night the balloons were hauled down and partly deflated,but at sunrise they were sent up again with the special object ofkeeping a look-out for British aeroplanes.
On one occasion a false alarm was given. Promptly the captiveballoons were hauled down. The Zeppelins emerged from their sheds andflew--not westwards to meet the threatened attack, but in asouth-easterly direction. It was quite apparent that the Germans hadlittle faith in their unwieldy gas-bags as a means of combating thedaring British seaplanes in broad daylight; so they sent them inlandto a safe distance, rather than risk annihilation at the hands of theintrepid Britishers.
In addition to the artillerymen stationed at Sylt there were severalregiments of infantry--men who were supposed to be resting aftermonths in the terrible district of Ypres. From the very first theHuns had a strong suspicion that Great Britain would attempt alanding upon the shores of Schleswig-Holstein, under cover of theguns of the fleet. Consequently a complete army corps had continuallybeen pinned down to this part of the German Empire in order to be inreadiness to repel the threatened invasion.
Upon the occasion of the false alarm Tressidar noticed that theinfantrymen were promptly sent off to bomb-proof dug-outs, since theycould be of little use in defence against aircraft. The gunners,however, stood to the quick-firers, the majority manning thebatteries on the dunes, while others were told off to the portableanti-aircraft guns mounted on armoured motor-cars.
With the departure of the Zeppelins the sheds in which they werehoused were lowered by means of steel trellis derricks until they layflat upon the ground. The material of which the sheds were built waslight steel, the outside of which had been coated with varnish. Whilethe varnish was still in a viscous state, sand had been liberallysprinkled upon it, with the result that the collapsed sections of theZeppelin sheds could hardly be distinguished from the surroundingsoil.
The false alarm was but one of many. The troops were continuallybeing called to arms, with the result that they were showingunmistakable signs of weariness under the strain. On each occasionthe German officers attached to the prison staff took particularpains to inform the British captives that a threatened air-raid hadbeen frustrated by the formidable appearance of the garrisondefences.
But one day--it was exactly a month from the time when Tressidarfirst set foot in the fortress of Sylt--the long-expected attack tookplace.
Through the brilliant sunlit air six British seaplanes, lookinglittle larger than may-flies, headed straight for the island. Well inthe offing lay a parent ship for seaplanes, four light cruisers, anda swarm of destroyers; while still further to the westward the giantbattle-cruisers kept in touch with their smaller consorts, ready toswoop down upon the German warships should the latter be tempted tojoin issue with the audacious British.
Tressidar and Fuller were alone in the common room. Owing to atrumped-up charge of a breach of discipline they had been preventedfrom joining the rest of their comrades in misfortune for the dailyoutdoor recreation.
A tremendous outburst of shell from the light quick-firers broughtthe chums to the barred window. Although they had had plenty ofdisappointment over the false alarms, they never neglected theopportunity of making for a place of observation when theanti-aircraft guns opened fire. For days they had waited for"something to turn up," and now their optimistic patience was aboutto be rewarded.
"Five of them, by Jove!" exclaimed Fuller. "No, six. They'll play thedeuce with the Huns."
"And possibly with us," thought the sub., but nevertheless his nerveswere a-tingle and his hopes centred upon the main idea that the raidwould be of brilliant military importance. Personal safety was anegligible quantity.
All around the biplanes were white, mushroomed clouds of smoke fromthe bursting shrapnel. It seemed as if nothing in the vicinity couldescape the concentrated fire from the German guns, yet serenely theseaplanes held on their course, tilting slightly under the violentdisturbance of the air.
With their faces pressed against the iron bars of the window the twoyoung officers watched the progress of the aircraft until they wereso immediately overhead that the masonry impeded their outlook. Thelast they saw of the daring raiders was that they were volplaningrapidly.
"Now stand by!" whispered Fuller tersely. "In another few secondsyou'll hear the plums drop."
The anti-aircraft guns redoubled their furious fire. The wholebuilding trembled under the reverberation of the deafening reports.
Then, as Fuller had foretold, came the first of a succession ofterrific explosions, as a large bomb from the leading seaplanecrashed into a shell store.
Although the prisoners could not see the actual damage done to thebuilding, they knew that it no longer existed. A dense black cloudthrown skywards by the detonation threw such a dark shadow thatsunlight gave place to a gloom resembling twilight. Thousands ofprojectiles, hurled far and wide, burst with dire results. Scorchedand maimed bodies of victims were projected in unrecognisable massesfor nearly two hundred yards from the actual scene of the disaster.
For some moments bombs fell like rain. Several of the gunemplacements in the dunes were utterly wrecked. In others the gunswere temporarily disabled by quantities of sand that, hurled rightand left by the bombs, choked the bore and clogged t
he delicatemechanism of the sights and training gear.
The torpedo-boats in the basin also had a rough handling. Several, toescape destruction, put out to sea, but in the confusion manycollided in the narrow, intricate channel. Others were sunk alongsidethe quays. Of the forty naval vessels belonging to the port,twenty-two only escaped.
Expecting every moment to find the building collapse over theirheads, Tressidar and his companion stuck to their posts at thewindow, Presently they saw one of the huge armoured cars proceedingat a furious pace down the military road behind the dunes. As it torealong, its obliquely-pointed quick-firer spat venomously at theBritish seaplanes until a bomb, falling quite a hundred feet from thecar, tore a deep hole in the roadway. At the same time a flyingfragment of metal found its way through the narrow slit in the steelplating behind which sat the driver. The man was either killed orseriously wounded, for the powerfully engined vehicle was no longerunder control. Gradually, at a speed of approximately forty miles anhour, it described a curve in a right-handed direction, while thegunners, their attention fixed upon the elusive targets a thousandfeet or more above their heads, were in ignorance of the danger thatthreatened them.
"Dash it all!" exclaimed Tressidar excitedly. "That car will bargeinto something in half a shake."
Already the vehicle had left the broad road and was ploughing with noapparent effort through the sand. It was heading towards the prisonbuildings.
Through the outer palisade it came, hurtling the steel rods right andleft. Then, without checking its headlong career, the car wrenchedits way through the double lines of barbed wire, carrying away yardsof fencing as it did so.
The anti-aircraft gun had now ceased firing. The gunners, aware ofthe fact that the car was a derelict, but unable to gain the steeringcompartment, were helpless.
"Stand by!" exclaimed Tressidar.
The warning was necessary. The motor-battering-ram was chargingstraight for the window. Promptly the chums backed away from thebars. Judging by the speed and momentum of the petrol-driven vehiclethere was great danger of the car charging completely through thestone building.
The next instant there was a violent crash. Stone, mortar, iron bars,woodwork flew in all directions accompanied by clouds of dust, whilerearing at an alarming angle upon the mound of debris was the car.
It was totally wrecked. The muzzle of the anti-aircraft gun, havingcaught in the overhanging masonry, had been wrenched from itsmountings, tearing away the steel roof of the car and pinning the twogunners under the heavy metal. The petrol from the burst tanks 'wassaturating everything within the limit of its flood, although,fortunately for Tressidar and his companion, the highly volatilespirit had not exploded. To add to the horrors of the scene bombsfrom the British seaplanes were still falling.
"Come along!" shouted Tressidar, bawling to make himself heard abovethe din.
"Right-oh," replied Fuller with alacrity.
The sub. had no definite plan. All he knew was that a path had beencleared for them through the formidable barriers. There was achance--a very slight chance--of liberty, and they seized it.
Crawling over the pile of debris and edging between the upturned sideof the car and the jagged wall, they gained the open space betweenthe building and the military road behind the dunes.
Glancing cautiously right and left, the two chums made the discoverythat the coast was clear. The gunners of the stationary quick-firers,ensconced in their armoured emplacements, were too busy with theirwork to look elsewhere. A mile or so down the road and proceedingaway from the prison buildings were two armoured cars. Every soldier,not actually engaged in firing at the seaplanes, had returned to theshelter of the dug-outs and bomb-proof casemates. Three distinct andfiercely burning fires showed unmistakable proof that the work ofdestruction had succeeded.
Through the gap in the shattered fence Tressidar and Fuller madetheir way. The severed electric wires were spluttering viciously,emitting bright blue flashes as their ends writhed like snakes. Themastiffs were no longer in evidence. Terrified by the crash of thefalling bombs, they had scurried for shelter. The sentinels, too,their dread of official punishment outweighed by the fear of death ormaiming from the powerful bombs, had deserted their posts, but notbefore a corporal and two privates had been literally wiped out ofexistence.
Through drifts of acrid-smelling smoke the two fugitives hastened,until they gained the slight shelter afforded by a dip in thereed-grown dunes.
So far so good, but unfortunately the seaplanes, their missionaccomplished, were already on their return journey, their departuregreeted by a futile discharge of shrapnel. That meant that beforelong the Germans would be emerging from their shelters to take stockof the damage before the officials could draft a report to Berlinannouncing that yet another raid had been attended by no results ofmilitary significance.
"Say, old man," exclaimed Fuller. "What's the next move? We can'thang on here much longer."
"No," replied Tressidar slowly. He was thinking deeply, regrettingthat he had not previously mapped out a plan should an opportunitylike that of the present arise.
Suddenly an idea flashed across his mind.
"By Jove!" he ejaculated, "what's to prevent our nabbing that captiveballoon?"
"A great wheeze," rejoined Fuller, kneeling up and peering cautiouslyin the direction of the observation balloon.
Thank goodness it had contrived to escape attention from thefar-flung fragments of the bombs. Partly inflated, and pinned to theearth by a number of cords attached to sandbags, it retainedsufficient lifting power to support a couple of men, even if it wereunable to rise to a very great altitude.
The balloon was deserted. Imagining that it would be a particulartarget for the British airmen, and knowing the danger of an explosionin the vicinity of hundreds of thousands of cubic feet of hydrogen,the men in charge had bolted precipitately at the first appearance ofthe seaplanes.
Unnoticed, the two grotesquely garbed fugitives gained the spot wherethe 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 achisel, began to sever the cords holding the retaining weights. Whilesix yet remained to be cut the balloon rose slowly from the ground.Its reserve of buoyancy then, in addition to the two passengers, wasequal to the weight of half a dozen sandbags.
As the last cord was severed the balloon leapt skywards, until with aperceptible jerk its ascent was stopped. It was held by a flexiblesteel wire, the bulk of which was wound round the drum of thelowering gear.
"Pliers, quick!" exclaimed Tressidar, swinging himself up into thenetting in order to bring himself within arm's length of the span towhich the cable was spliced.
Fuller obeyed promptly. As he did so he became aware of somethingthat the sub. in his excitement had not noticed. From their places ofconcealment numbers of German soldiers were emerging. By the shoutsit was apparent that they had discovered the attempt at escape on thepart of the two English prisoners.
"'IN WITH YOU, OLD MAN!' HE EXCLAIMED"]
The steel wire was tough and offered stubborn resistance to thepliers. Every moment was precious. Tressidar, too, was now aware ofthe latest danger that threatened them. In his desperate anxiety tocomplete his work the pliers slipped from his hand and fell adistance of thirty feet to the ground.
"See if there's anything else to cut this infernal wire," heexclaimed breathlessly, holding out his disengaged hand.
Fuller searched in vain. Amongst the collection of tools there wasnothing capable of making a quick job of cutting the wire. Thenearest German was within a hundred yards, and, like most of hiscompanions, was armed with a rifle. There seemed every possibility ofthe luckless fugitives being done in.
Disregarding Tressidar's excitable requests to "Look sharp," theflight sub. snatched up a rifle that was lying in the car. Throwingup the bolt, he discovered, as he expected, t
hat the weapon wasalready loaded. With a steady hand he held the muzzle within a coupleof inches of the wire and pressed the trigger.
The next instant the balloon, captive no longer, was soaring skywardsat a dizzy rate, the bullet having accomplished the task that thewire cutters had failed to do.