III
"We can wade ashore," said Burton. "I can see the bottom."
"Hadn't we better mend the leak?" Hunter suggested.
"But I want to see if the German has any spare petrol. We've lost alot."
They waded through a foot or two of water, and examined the wreck. Oneof the wings was crumpled up; otherwise the machine had suffered littleinjury. The pilot, a fair-haired German of Saxon type, was dead. Therewas plenty of petrol in the tank, and Hunter drew this off into a tincan while Burton returned to the seaplane, pulled it ashore, and setabout discovering the leak. It turned out to be a long thin crack onthe underside of the tank.
"How on earth are we to mend this?" said Burton, looking at it ruefully.
"Why not stuff it up with mud?" said Hunter. "This stuff at the edge ofthe lake seems to be clayey, and it will harden in no time."
"Good! It may last for the few miles we have still to cover. Just keepa lookout while I work at it."
Hunter went up the bank. A rough bridle-track skirted the lake anddisappeared in a plantation that came down to within about a hundredyards of the water. To the south the view was shut in by a woodedknoll. There was neither man nor house in sight.
Burton had just kneaded some clay for stopping up the crack when theyheard shouts in the distance, apparently from a southward direction. Heran up and joined Hunter, and they went together to the knoll somehundred and twenty yards away, from which they expected to get a view ofthe southern shore and perhaps of the men from whom the cries came.They were careful to keep under cover, and, on arriving at the knoll,lay flat on the ground. As they had hoped, they could now see a largeportion of the lake which had previously been hidden from them, andcaught glimpses, on the western side, of the bridle-track here and thereamong the trees. At intervals it disappeared behind slight hillocks ordenser stretches of the plantation.
For a minute or two they saw no human beings. The sounds had ceased.But presently, about a third of a mile away to the south, they caughtsight of a party of half a dozen horsemen searching the shore of thelake, now trotting into the wood, now riding at the edge of the water,now cantering along the bridle-track in the direction of the Englishmen.
"Turks!" murmured Burton.
"They must have seen the machines fall," said Hunter. "This is awkward,Teddy."
"It is, by Jove! and there are more of them. Look at that lot behindthere. They'll be here in three or four minutes--no time to plaster thecrack and get away."
"We had better scuttle our plane and dive into the woods. There's justa chance of our getting across the Maritza into Bulgaria."
"That means internment. Besides, it would be simply rotten to destroythe machine if we can help it. Perhaps there's some other way. In anycase we must get back. Put on a sprint."
They raced back to the spot where they had landed, the knoll concealingthem from the Turkish search-party. The sight of the body of the Germanpilot suggested an idea to Burton.
"Look here, we must trick them," he said rapidly. "There's a barechance of saving our machine, and I doubt whether we've time enough evento destroy it. For the next quarter of an hour I'm a German, and you'remy English prisoner. We are done if there's a German among them, butthat's our chance."
Removing his own cap, he replaced it with that of the German pilot,borrowing at the same time one or two small articles of his equipment.Then he bound Hunter's hands and feet.
"Slip-knots, old man," he said. "You can free yourself in a jiffy. Butdon't do it too soon. Just in time! I hear them coming. Here goes!"
He uttered a loud shout. In a few moments the horsemen appeared on thecrest of the knoll. Burton waved his left hand, with his right holdinga pistol pointed at Hunter's head. The horsemen, led by an elderlyTurkish officer in grey uniform and fez, galloped down towards them.While the officer was still several paces distant, Burton saluted andaddressed him.
"Sprechen Sie Deutsch, mein Herr?"
No one would have guessed with what anxious trepidation he awaited theanswer. He had used almost all the German he knew. His heart leapt whenthe Turk shook his head.
"Vous parlez Francais, monsieur?" said Burton.
"Oui, certainement. Qu'est-ce que c'est que ca?"
"You have come in good time, monsieur le capitaine," said Burton inFrench. "I regret that I do not speak Turkish, and that our conversationmust proceed in a language which, no doubt, you cordially detest. Ourgood Kaiser will soon forbid the use of it in Europe; German and Turkishare the languages of the future. Meanwhile! ... You see, monsieur lecapitaine, there has been a duel in the air. My pilot was, unhappily,shot by the enemy. We both had to descend; the enemy, no doubt, haddifficulties with his engine. No doubt he expected to find both thepilot and myself dead or disabled. But a true German, like a true Turk,is a hard man to kill. Single-handed I attacked the enemy as theylanded. Imagine their consternation and fear! One of them, using thelong legs which serve the cowardly English so well, fled into the wood.The other lies here."
The Turkish captain bent over his saddle to inspect the capturedEnglishman. For his benefit Hunter assumed an expression of sullenferocity.
"He looks a terrible fellow"]
"It was well done," said the Turk in French. "He looks a terriblefellow. I make you my compliments, monsieur. It was a brave deed toattack two men single-handed."
"Oh, that's nothing to us Germans," said Burton airily. "We never thinkof odds. We are like that; the greater the adverse odds, the betterpleased we are."
"That is indeed the characteristic of your noble nation," said the Turkpolitely.
"Still, it is as well to reduce the odds when we can," Burton went on."Half the enemy's force has escaped. Could you spare a few men,monsieur le capitaine, to scour the woods?"
"Certainly, though I have little time to spare. I am engaged, you willbe glad to know, in escorting a fellow-countryman of yours, monsieur--aGerman in the secret service, who has just landed at Enos--withimportant information for headquarters at Keshan."
He broke off to give his troopers orders to hunt about in the woods forthe escaped English airman. They were to return, even if unsuccessful,at the sound of his whistle. Meanwhile, Burton and Hunter had exchangeduneasy glances. The German could not be far away. No doubt he wascoming up with other members of the escort. The sight of the fallingaeroplanes had drawn the officer in advance.
The troopers galloped off. The officer turned once more towards Burton,whose expression of countenance gave no sign of the agitation within.
"It will be interesting to meet a fellow-countryman in this lonelyspot," he said calmly. "May I offer you a cigarette, monsieur?"
The Turk took one from the opened case, thanked Burton, and turned thecigarette over in his fingers.
"Made in Cairo, monsieur?" he said.
"Yes, it is a privilege of us airmen to levy upon the enemy. Refugeeshave no need to smoke. With the airman it is a necessity--it steadiesthe nerves."
"True. And they make good cigarettes in Cairo." He lit the cigarettefrom an automatic lighter. "The Englishman looks frightened."
"He expects to be killed, I suppose, not knowing our German humanity.But you will excuse me, monsieur, if I examine the English aeroplane.It will come in useful."
Burton returned to the machine, and, after feigning to examine it,proceeded to plaster the crack with nervous haste. The Turk hadfollowed him, and, remaining in the saddle, watched his operations withmuch interest.
"It was this injury that caused the Englishmen to descend," Burtonexplained. "German bullets never fail."
"An English bullet was more successful, however," said the officer,glancing at the dead pilot.
"Not more successful, surely, monsieur. We have scores of good pilots,we can replace every man that falls; but the English cannot afford tolose a single machine. And do not our German newspapers tell us thatthey have hardly any left? The earth is the Kaiser's; th
e sea is his;the air is his also. Turkey will flourish again in German air."
Having filled up the crack, Burton proceeded to pour petrol into thetank.
"This fellow-countryman of mine?" he said.
"He will be here soon, no doubt. He is a trifle stout, and a poorhorseman. Consequently he travels slowly. When he saw the aeroplanesdescending he insisted on our pushing on to render assistance to hisfellow-countrymen. He cannot miss the track, there is only one. But heshould be in sight."
The Turk looked backward over the track, then saying, "Excuse me," hewheeled his horse and began to trot towards the knoll. Burton had by nomeans completed the replenishment of the tank. He felt that somethingmust be done.
"Monsieur le capitaine!" he shouted.
The Turk pulled up. Burton went towards him with an air of mystery.
"Your men are at fault, monsieur," he said. "It would be a pity to letthe Englishman escape, and you have no time to waste. Perhaps if I showthe way!"
He walked on up the knoll, the Turk riding by his side.
"There, monsieur, you see that big tree on the far side of the bay? Ifyou do not find the fugitive thereabout you won't find him anywhere."
The Turk hesitated. Perhaps he was considering whether it comportedwith an elderly captain's dignity to take a personal part in the search.Burton eyed him anxiously, hoping that he would go, meet the approachingGerman, and take him with him. The pause was brief. The temptation tocatch a live Englishman overbore all considerations of dignity. With aword of thanks to Burton the Turk cantered on towards the big tree.
Burton breathed again. He hurried back to the seaplane.
"Slip the knots, Dick," he said, "but don't get up. I'll give you theword. I hope I've got rid of the Turk for a while."
He was in the act of pouring petrol into the tank when a figure appearedfrom round the western base of the knoll. It was a bigSancho-Panza-like person, mounted on a mule.
"Great Scott!" murmured Burton.
Dropping the empty tin, he hastened to the aviatik for another.
"I say, Dick, do you recognise that fellow?" he asked.
"Christopoulos!" Hunter whispered.
"As large as life! What on earth are we to do? He will recognise usdirectly, even if he hasn't done so already."
"Shoot him and scoot!"
"I haven't enough petrol yet. The tank still leaks, though not sobadly, and if we shoot, the Turks will swarm up before I can fill up andget away. I think I had better go on with the job, let him come up, andtrust to luck."
Keeping his back to the pseudo-Greek, Burton carried another tin to theseaplane. Before he had emptied it into the tank the spy came withinhailing distance and let out a jovial greeting in German. No doubt hehad recognised the German airman's cap, and, without misgiving, hailedhis supposed compatriot.
"Good-morning, my friend," he shouted. "I congratulate you. AnotherGerman victory!"
Burton, his back still towards the spy, finished pouring out the petrol,and placed the tin on the ground. As he straightened himself hediscreetly drew his revolver and suddenly turned round. The spy was nowwithin half a dozen paces of him.
"Thank you, Mr. Christopoulos," he said. "Another victory--but not aGerman victory. We shall presently see who is to be congratulated.Meanwhile, you will dismount."
The German, who had reined up at the first glance at Burton's face,turned a sickly colour and half-opened his mouth as if to shout.
"Silence!" cried Burton peremptorily. "If you make the slightest sound Iwill shoot you on the spot."
He held his revolver carelessly in his left hand, not pointing it at theGerman lest any of the Turks should come within view. The spy showedmore alacrity than skill in dismounting. He clumsily clambered from hissaddle, without daring to turn his head in the direction of the Turks,who could now be heard calling to one another beyond the knoll. Burtonwent up to him.
NONPLUSSED]
"Hand over your revolver," he said.
"I haven't got----" the spy was beginning. Burton cut him short.
"No nonsense! Hand it over. Quick. At the word 'three' I fire.One--two----"
With an agonised look the German made a dive for his revolver. Burtontook it with his right hand before it was released from the spy's tightpocket. From a distance they might have appeared to be shaking hands.
Burton had been rapidly casting about for a means of disposing of theGerman. He could not shoot him in cold blood; there might perhaps betime to tie him up, but he would then still be able to convey to theTurkish headquarters the information he had gathered at Tenedos. Thatmust certainly be prevented. There was only one thing to be done: theymust take him with them.
Just as Burton had reached this conclusion, a Turk appeared on theknoll.
"Come with me," said Burton sternly.
The German accompanied him to the seaplane. He might be supposed to beindulging his curiosity. Standing between him and the knoll, Burtonsaid--
"You are interested in aviation. Seat yourself on the right-handfloat."
The spy made as if to turn round. Burton lifted his revolver.
"Don't waste time," he said.
With a groan the spy sat on the spot indicated.
Burton seized the strap that bound him to his seat, and rapidly tied theGerman to the upright connecting the float with the body of theseaplane, calling to Hunter--who, still lying on the ground, had watchedthese proceedings with excitement--to cover the spy with his revolver.
The prisoner had hardly been secured when the Turkish captain canteredover the knoll, followed by two or three men.
"Now, Dick!" cried Burton.
Hunter sprang up and rushed to his place.
"Not there!" said Burton. "Get on to the left-hand float to balance themachine."
Meanwhile he had started the engine, in desperate anxiety lest it shouldnot have gathered momentum before the Turks came up. The spy had heardthe thudding of their horses' hoofs as they, seeing the supposed Englishprisoner spring up, galloped down the knoll. Turning his head, he letout a frenzied shout. But it was too late. Burton had vaulted into hisseat, and, just three seconds before the amazed and furious Turksreached the brink of the water, the seaplane was skimming the surface.
The spy was now filling the air with his frantic cries. Burtonafterwards said it was like the booming of a buzzard. The Turksdismounted, and from the edge of the lake fired at the fast-recedingmachine. One or two shots pierced the planes, and from a shrill cry ofterror from the German, Burton supposed that he had been hit. But he wastoo busy to think of him. Forcing the engine to the utmost he wasalready manipulating the elevator. The machine rose steadily. At thefirst possible moment Burton swung it round to the west. In a minute ortwo he crossed the Maritza. Climbing ever higher, he shifted his coursea point or two to the south, and within twenty minutes the machineswooped down beside the cruiser, a few miles out in the bay, and anumber of laughing bluejackets hastened to assist two dripping objectsto climb on board.
A discomfited spy]