CHAPTER XVIII
THE WATCH ON THE RHINE
Evening was closing upon a waste of muddy flats. Far as the eye couldsee there was no rise in the land; it lay level to the skyline, withhere and there a glint of still water, and, further off, flat banksbetween which a wide river flowed sluggishly. If you cared to followthe river, you came at length to stone blockhouses, near whichsentries patrolled the banks--and would probably have turned you backrudely. From the blockhouses a high fence of barbed wire, thicklycriss-crossed, stretched north and south until it became a mere threadof grey stretching over the country. There was something relentless,forbidding, in that savage fence. It was the German frontier. Beyondit lay Holland, flat and peaceful. But more securely than a mountainrange between the two countries, that thin grey fence barred the way.
If you turned back from the sentries and followed the muddy path alongthe river bank, you were scarcely likely to meet any one. The guardsin the blockhouses were under strict discipline, and were notencouraged to allow friends to visit them, either from the scatteredfarms or from the town of Emmerich, where lights were beginning toglimmer faintly in the twilight. It was not safe for them todisregard regulations, since at any moment a patrol motor-launch mightcome shooting down the river, or a surprise visit be paid by adetachment from the battalion of infantry quartered, for trainingpurposes, at Emmerich. Penalties for lax discipline were severe; theguards were supposed to live on the alert both by day and by night,and the Emmerich commandant considered that the fewer distractionspermitted to the sentries, the more likely they were to make theirwatch a thorough one. There had been too many escapes of prisoners ofwar across the frontier; unpleasant remarks had been made from Berlin,and the Commandant was on his mettle. Therefore the river-bank waspurposely lonely, and any stray figure on it was likely to attractattention.
A mile from the northern bank a windmill loomed dark against thehorizon; a round brick building, like a big pepper-castor, with fourgreat arms looking like crossed combs. A rough track led to it fromthe main road. Within, the building was divided into several floors,lit by narrow windows. The heavy sails had plied lazily during theday; now they had been secured, and two men were coming down theladder that led from the top. On the ground floor they paused,looking discontentedly at some barrels that were ranged against thewall, loosely covered with sacking.
"Those accursed barrels are leaking again," one said, in German."Look!" He pointed to a dark stain spreading from below. "And Rudolftold me he had caulked them thoroughly."
"Rudolf does nothing thoroughly--do you not know that?" answered hiscompanion scornfully. "If one stands over him--well and good; if not,then all that Master Rudolf cares for is how soon he may get back tohis beerhouse. Well, they must be seen to in the morning; it is toolate to begin the job to-night."
"I am in no hurry," said the first man. "If you would help me I wouldattend to them now. All the stuff may not be wasted."
"Himmel! I am not going to begin work again at this hour," answeredthe other with a laugh. "I am not like Rudolf, but I see no enjoymentin working overtime; it will be dark, as it is, before we get toEmmerich. Come on, my friend."
"You are a lazy fellow, Emil," rejoined the first man. "However, theloss is not ours, after all, and we should be paid nothing extra fordoing the work to-night. Have you the key?"
"I do not forget it two nights running," returned Emil. "What luck itwas that the master did not come to-day!--if he had found the millopen I should certainly have paid dearly."
"Luck for you, indeed," said his companion. They went out, shuttingand locking the heavy oaken door behind them. Then they took thetrack that led to the main road.
The sound of their footsteps had scarcely died away when the sackingover one of the barrels became convulsed by an internal disturbanceand fell to the floor; and Jim Linton's head popped up in the opening,like a Jack-in-the box.
"Come on, Desmond--they've gone at last!" he whispered.
Desmond's head came up cautiously from another barrel.
"Take care--it may be only a blind," he warned. "They may come backat any moment."
Jim's answer was to wriggle himself out of his narrow prison, slowlyand painfully. He reached the floor, and stood stretching himself.
"If they come back, I'll meet them with my hands free," he said."Come on, old man; we're like rats in a trap if they catch us in thosebeastly tubs. At least, out here, we've our knives and our fists.Come out, and get the stiffness out of your limbs."
"Well, I suppose we may as well go under fighting if we have to,"Desmond agreed.
Jim helped him out, and they stood looking at each other. They were asorry-looking pair. Their clothes hung in rags about them; they werebarefoot and hatless, and, beyond all belief, dirty. Thin toemaciation, their gaunt limbs and hollow cheeks spoke of terribleprivations; but their sunken eyes burned fiercely, and there was grimpurpose in their set lips.
"Well--we're out of the small traps, but it seems to me we're caughtpretty securely in a big one," Desmond said presently. "How on earthare we going to get out of this pepper-pot?"
"We'll explore," Jim said. Suddenly his eye fell on a package lyingon an empty box, and he sprang towards it, tearing it open withclaw-like fingers.
"Oh, by Jove--_food!_" he said.
They fell upon it ravenously; coarse food left by one of the men,whose beer-drinking of the night before had perhaps been too heavy toleave him with much appetite next day. But, coarse as it was, it waslife to the two men who devoured it.
It was nearly six weeks since the night when their tunnel had takenthem into the world outside the barbed wire of their prison; six weeksduring which it had seemed, in Desmond's phrase, as though they hadescaped from a small trap to find themselves caught within a big one.They had been weeks of dodging and hiding; travelling by night,trusting to map and compass and the stars; lying by day in woods, inditches, under haystacks--in any hole or corner that should shelterthem in a world that seemed full of cruel eyes looking ceaselessly forthem. Backwards and forwards they had been driven; making a fewmiles, and then forced to retreat for many; thrown out of theircourse, often lost hopelessly, falling from one danger into another.They had never known what it was to sleep peacefully; their food hadbeen chiefly turnips, stolen from the fields, and eaten raw.
Three times they had reached the frontier; only to be seen by theguards, fired upon--a bullet had clipped Jim's ear--and forced to turnback as the only alternative to capture. What that turning-back hadmeant no one but the men who endured it could ever know. Each timeswift pursuit had nearly discovered them; they had once savedthemselves by lying for a whole day and part of a night in a pond,with only their faces above water in a clump of reeds.
They had long abandoned their original objective; the point they hadaimed at on the frontier was far too strongly guarded, and after twoattempts to get through, they had given it up as hopeless, and hadstruck towards the Rhine, in faint expectation of finding a boat, andperhaps being able to slip through the sentries. They had reached theriver two nights before, but only to realize that their hope was vain;no boats were to be seen, and the frowning blockhouses barred the wayrelentlessly. So they had struck north, again trying to pierce thefrontier; and the night before had encountered sentries--not menalone, but bloodhounds. The guards had contented themselves withfiring a few volleys--the dogs had pursued them savagely. One Jim hadsucceeded in killing with his knife, the other, thrown off the trailfor a little by a stream down which they had waded, had tracked themdown, until, almost exhausted, they had dashed in through the opendoor of the old mill--for once careless as to any human beings whomight be there.
The bloodhound had come, too, and in the mill, lit by shafts ofmoonlight through the narrow windows, they had turned to bay. Thefight had not lasted long; they were quick and desperate, and the doghad paid the penalty of his sins--or of the sins of the human bruteswho had trained him. Then they had looked for concealment, fi
ndingnone in the mill--the floors were bare, except for the great barrels,half-full of a brown liquid that they could not define.
"Well, there's nothing for it," Jim had said. "There's not an inch ofcover outside, and daylight will soon be here. We must empty two ofthese things and get inside."
"And the dog?" Desmond had asked.
"Oh, we'll pickle Ponto."
Together they had managed it, though the barrels taxed all theirstrength to move. The body of the bloodhound had been lowered intothe brown liquid; two of the others had been gradually emptied uponthe earthen floor. With the daylight they had crawled in, drawing thesacking over them, to crouch, half-stifled through the long day,trembling when a step came near, clenching their knives with a sickresolve to sell their freedom dearly. It seemed incredible that theyhad not been discovered; and now the package of food was the laststroke of good luck.
"Well, blessings on Emil, or Fritz, or Ludwig, or whoever he was," Jimsaid, eating luxuriously. "This is the best blow-out I've hadsince--well, there isn't any since, there never was anything so goodbefore!"
"Never," agreed Desmond. "By George, I thought we were done when thatenergetic gentleman wanted to begin overhauling the casks."
"Me too," said Jim. "Emil saved us there--good luck to him!"
They finished the last tiny crumb, and stood up.
"I'm a different man," Desmond said. "If I have to run to-night, thenthe man that tries to catch me will have to do it with a bullet!"
"That's likely enough," Jim said, laughing. "Well, come and see howwe're going to get out."
There seemed little enough chance, as they searched from floor tofloor. The great door was strong enough to resist ten men; thewindows were only slits, far too narrow to allow them to pass through,even had they dared risk the noise of breaking their thick glass. Upand up they went, their hearts sinking as their bodies mounted; seeingno possible way of leaving their round prison.
"Rats in a trap!" said Desmond. "There's nothing for it but thosebeastly barrels again--and to watch our chance of settling Emil andhis pal when they come to-morrow."
"Let's look out here," Jim said.
They were at the top of the mill, in a little circular place, barelylarge enough for them to stand upright. A low door opened upon a tinyplatform with a railing, from which the great sails could be worked;they were back now, but the wind was rising, and they creaked andstrained at their mooring rope. Far below the silver sheet of theRhine moved sluggishly, gleaming in the moonlight. The blockhousesstood out sharply on either bank.
"Wonder if they can see us as plainly as we see them," Jim said.
"We'll have callers here presently if they can," Desmond said. "That,at least, is certain. Better come in, Jim."
Jim was looking at the great sails, and then at the rope that mooredthem.
"Wait half a minute," he said.
He dived into the mill, and returned almost instantly with a smallcoil of rope.
"I noticed this when we came up," he said. "It didn't seem longenough to be any use by itself, but if we tie it to this mooring-ropeit might be long enough."
"To reach the ground from here?" Desmond asked him in astonishment."Never! You're dreaming, Jim."
"Not from here, of course," Jim said. "But from the end of the sail."
"The sail!" Desmond echoed.
"If we tie it to the end of the sail's rope, and let the mill go, wecan swing out one at a time," Jim said. "Bit of a drop at the bottom,of course, but I don't think it would be too much, if we wait till oursail points straight down."
"But----" Desmond hesitated. "The sail may not bear anyweight--neither may the rope itself."
"The ropes seem good enough--they're light, but strong," Jim said."As for the sail--well, it looks pretty tough; the framework is iron.We can haul on it and test it a bit. I'd sooner risk it than becaught here, old man."
"Well--I'm going first," Desmond said.
"That you're not--it's my own little patent idea," Jim retorted."Just you play fair, you old reprobate. Look--they keep a sort ofboathook thing here, to catch the rope when the arm is turning--verythoughtful and handy. You'll easily get it back with that."
He was knotting the two ropes as he spoke, testing them with all hisstrength.
"There--that will hold," he said. "Now we'll let her go."
He untied the mooring-rope, and very slowly the great sails began torevolve. They tugged violently as the arm bearing the rope mounted,and drew it back; it creaked and groaned, but the rope held, andnothing gave way. Jim turned his face to Desmond on the narrowplatform.
"I'm off!" he said. "No end of a jolly lark, isn't it? Hold her tillI get on the railing."
"Jim--if it's too short!"
"Well, I'll know all about that in a minute," said Jim with a shortlaugh. "So long, old chap: I'll be waiting below, to catch you whenyou bounce!"
He flung his legs over the railing, sitting upon it for an instantwhile he gripped the rope, twining his legs round it. Then he droppedoff, sliding quickly down. Sick with suspense, Desmond leaned over towatch him.
Down--down he went. The mill-arms rose for a moment, and then checkedas his weight came on them--and slowly--slowly, the great sail fromwhich he dangled came back until it pointed straight downwards, withthe clinging figure hanging far below. Down, until the man abovecould scarcely see him--and then the rope, released, suddenly spranginto the air, and the sails mounted, revolving as if to make up forlost time. On the grass below a figure capered madly. A low,triumphant whistle came up.
"Oh, thank God!" said Desmond. He clutched the boathook and leanedout, finding that his hands trembled so that the sails went roundthree times before he managed to catch the dangling rope. Then it wasonly a moment before he was on the grass beside Jim. They grinned ateach other.
"You all right?" Jim asked.
"Oh, yes. It was pretty beastly seeing you go, though."
"It was only a ten-foot drop at the end," said Jim, casting his eye upat the creaking sails. "But it certainly was a nasty moment while onewondered if the old affair would hold. I don't believe it ever wasmade in Germany--it's too well done!"
"Well, praise the pigs we haven't got to tackle those barrels again!"Desmond said. "Come along--we'll try and find a hole in the oldfence."
They came out of the friendly shadow of the mill and trottednorthwards, bending low as they ran; there was no cover on the flats,and the moonlight was all too clear, although friendly clouds darkenedit from time to time. It was a windy night, with promise of rainbefore morning.
"Halt! Who goes there?"
The sharp German words rang out suddenly. Before them three soldiersseemed to have risen from the ground with levelled rifles.
Jim and Desmond gave a despairing gasp, and turned, ducking andtwisting as they fled. Bullets whistled past them.
"Are you hit?" Jim called.
"No. Are you?"
"No. There's nothing but the river."
They raced on madly, their bare feet making no sound. Behind them thepursuit thudded, and occasionally a rifle cracked; not so much in thehope of hitting the twisting fugitives, as to warn the river sentriesof their coming. The Germans were not hurrying; there was no escape,they knew! Father Rhine and his guardians would take care of theirquarry.
Jim jogged up beside Desmond.
"We've just a chance," he said--"if we ever get to the river. You canswim under water?"
"Oh yes."
"Then keep as close to the bank as you can--the shots may go over you.We'll get as near the blockhouses as we dare before we dive. Keepclose."
He was the better runner, and he drew ahead, Desmond hard at hisheels. The broad river gleamed in front--there were men with riflessilhouetted against its silver. Then a merciful cloud-bank driftedacross the moon, and the shots whistled harmlessly in the suddendarkness. Jim felt the edge of the bank under his feet.
"Dive!" he called softly.
He went
in gently and Desmond followed with a splash. The sluggishwater was like velvet; the tide took them gently on, while they swammadly below the surface.
Shouts ran up and down the banks. Searchlights from the blockhouseslit the river, and the water was churned under a hail of machine-gunbullets, with every guard letting off his rifle into the stream in thehope of hitting something. The bombardment lasted for five minutes,and then the officer in command gave the signal to cease fire.
"The pity is," he observed, "that we never get the bodies; the currentsees to that. But the swine will hardly float back to their England!"He shrugged his shoulders. "That being settled, suppose we return tosupper?"
It might have hindered the worthy captain's enjoyment had he been ableto see a mud-bank fifty yards below the frontier, where two drippingmen looked at each other, and laughed, and cried, and wrung eachother's hands, and, in general, behaved like people bereft of reason.
"Haven't got a scratch, have you, you old blighter?" asked Jimecstatically.
"Not one. Rotten machine-gun practice, wasn't it? Sure you're allright?"
"Rather! Do you realize you're in Holland?"
"Do you realize that no beastly Hun can come up out of nowhere andtake pot-shots at you?"
"It's not their pot-shots I minded so much," said Jim. "But to goback to a prison-camp--well, shooting would be a joke to that. Oh, byJove, isn't it gorgeous!" They pumped hands again.
"Now, look here--we've got to be sober," Desmond said presently."Holland is all very well; I've heard it's a nice place for skating.But neither of us has any wish to get interned here."
"Rather not!" said Jim. "I want to go home and get into uniformagain, and go hunting for Huns."
"Same here," said Desmond. "Therefore we will sneak along this riveruntil we find a boat. Go steady now, young Linton, and don't turnhand springs!"
Within the Dutch frontier the Rhine breaks up into a delta ofnavigable streams, on which little brown-sailed cargo-boats plyperpetually; and the skipper of a Dutch cargo-boat will do anythingfor money. A couple of hours' hard walking brought Jim and Desmond toa village with a little pier near which half a dozen boats weremoored. A light showed in a port-hole, and they went softly on deck,and found their way below into a tiny and malodorous cabin. A stoutman sprang to his feet at sight of the dripping scarecrows who invadedhis privacy.
South Africa had taught Desmond sufficient Dutch to enable him to makehimself intelligible. He explained the position briefly to themariner, and they talked at length.
"Wants a stiff figure," he said finally, turning to Jim. "But he says'can do.' He'll get us some clothes and drop down the river with usto Rotterdam, and find a skipper who'll get us across to Harwich--theGerman navy permitting, of course!"
"The German navy!" said Jim scornfully. "But they're asleep!" Heyawned hugely. "I'm going to sleep, too, if I have to camp on thegentleman's table. Tell him to call me when it's time to change forBlighty!"