CHAPTER XVII
A DASH FOR LIBERTY
Day after day, night after night passed with almost intolerable tediousness. The meagre fare, uncomfortable quarters, their motley clothing, the jeers and taunts of their goalers—all these discomforts, unpleasant though they were, could be borne with fortitude bordering on equanimity. It was the dearth of news and the enforced inactivity that weighed so heavily upon the captive British officers.
The Huns knew this and traded upon it. The prisoners would have welcomed hard labour, provided that it was not of a nature that would directly assist the enemy against their fellow-countrymen. Manual labour they knew to be a tonic to mental inactivity—a means to keep their bodies fit and their muscles in good form. Instead they were permitted but two hours a day in the grounds, and even then football or, 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 the captives could hear the sea thundering upon the outlying sands—a call of freedom to which they could not respond.
When at frequent intervals the dull booming of cannon was borne to their ears, they would look at each other with unspoken words of hope, until they realised that the guns were being fired as practice and not directed upon the long-expected British assault by sea and air.
Sometimes, too, they could see the giant Zeppelins being guided cautiously from the huge collapsible sheds. This took place usually in the late afternoon, at or about the time of the new moon. Away would speed the craven night-raiders in a westerly direction, to return with almost unfailing regularity just after dawn. Once, however, a Zeppelin trailed homewards with its after-part sagging ominously, and before it could be safely housed, it collapsed, a crumpled heap of girders and torn fabric, upon the ground. At another, three airships set out across the North Sea, and only one returned.
Great was the joy of the prisoners on these occasions. Regardless of the threats of their guards, they would give vent to the wildest demonstrations of joy. But they had to pay for these outbursts. A further restriction of their already meagre fare and a complete deprivation of their tobacco and cigarettes was the unfailing penalty. It was worth the punishment, to "let themselves go" over the unquestionable loss of yet another of the Huns' vaunted gas-bags. Amongst the highly organised methods adopted by the Germans for the defence of Sylt was the practice of sending up a couple of observation balloons by day whenever a Zeppelin was not cruising overhead. These strangely shaped balloons were in the form of an egg, with a curved cylinder attached to the end in order to prevent the contrivance from rotating under the influence of air-currents. To the observation 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 the ground. At night the balloons were hauled down and partly deflated, but at sunrise they were sent up again with the special object of keeping a look-out for British aeroplanes.
On one occasion a false alarm was given. Promptly the captive balloons were hauled down. The Zeppelins emerged from their sheds and flew—not westwards to meet the threatened attack, but in a south-easterly direction. It was quite apparent that the Germans had little faith in their unwieldy gas-bags as a means of combating the daring British seaplanes in broad daylight; so they sent them inland to a safe distance, rather than risk annihilation at the hands of the intrepid Britishers.
In addition to the artillerymen stationed at Sylt there were several regiments of infantry—men who were supposed to be resting after months in the terrible district of Ypres. From the very first the Huns had a strong suspicion that Great Britain would attempt a landing upon the shores of Schleswig-Holstein, under cover of the guns of the fleet. Consequently a complete army corps had continually been pinned down to this part of the German Empire in order to be in readiness to repel the threatened invasion.
Upon the occasion of the false alarm Tressidar noticed that the infantrymen were promptly sent off to bomb-proof dug-outs, since they could be of little use in defence against aircraft. The gunners, however, stood to the quick-firers, the majority manning the batteries on the dunes, while others were told off to the portable anti-aircraft guns mounted on armoured motor-cars.
With the departure of the Zeppelins the sheds in which they were housed were lowered by means of steel trellis derricks until they lay flat upon the ground. The material of which the sheds were built was light steel, the outside of which had been coated with varnish. While the varnish was still in a viscous state, sand had been liberally sprinkled upon it, with the result that the collapsed sections of the Zeppelin sheds could hardly be distinguished from the surrounding soil.
The false alarm was but one of many. The troops were continually being called to arms, with the result that they were showing unmistakable signs of weariness under the strain. On each occasion the German officers attached to the prison staff took particular pains to inform the British captives that a threatened air-raid had been frustrated by the formidable appearance of the garrison defences.
But one day—it was exactly a month from the time when Tressidar first set foot in the fortress of Sylt—the long-expected attack took place.
Through the brilliant sunlit air six British seaplanes, looking little larger than may-flies, headed straight for the island. Well in the offing lay a parent ship for seaplanes, four light cruisers, and a swarm of destroyers; while still further to the westward the giant battle-cruisers kept in touch with their smaller consorts, ready to swoop down upon the German warships should the latter be tempted to join issue with the audacious British.
Tressidar and Fuller were alone in the common room. Owing to a trumped-up charge of a breach of discipline they had been prevented from joining the rest of their comrades in misfortune for the daily outdoor recreation.
A tremendous outburst of shell from the light quick-firers brought the chums to the barred window. Although they had had plenty of disappointment over the false alarms, they never neglected the opportunity of making for a place of observation when the anti-aircraft guns opened fire. For days they had waited for "something to turn up," and now their optimistic patience was about to be rewarded.
"Five of them, by Jove!" exclaimed Fuller. "No, six. They'll play the deuce with the Huns."
"And possibly with us," thought the sub., but nevertheless his nerves were a-tingle and his hopes centred upon the main idea that the raid would be of brilliant military importance. Personal safety was a negligible quantity.
All around the biplanes were white, mushroomed clouds of smoke from the bursting shrapnel. It seemed as if nothing in the vicinity could escape the concentrated fire from the German guns, yet serenely the seaplanes held on their course, tilting slightly under the violent disturbance of the air.
With their faces pressed against the iron bars of the window the two young officers watched the progress of the aircraft until they were so immediately overhead that the masonry impeded their outlook. The last they saw of the daring raiders was that they were volplaning rapidly.
"Now stand by!" whispered Fuller tersely. "In another few seconds you'll hear the plums drop."
The anti-aircraft guns redoubled their furious fire. The whole building trembled under the reverberation of the deafening reports.
Then, as Fuller had foretold, came the first of a succession of terrific explosions, as a large bomb from the leading seaplane crashed into a shell store.
Although the prisoners could not see the actual damage done to the building, they knew that it no longer existed. A dense black cloud thrown skywards by the detonation threw such a dark shadow that sunlight gave place to a gloom resembling twilight. Thousands of projectiles, hurled far and wide, burst with dire results. Scorched and maimed bodies of victims were projected in unrecognisable masses for nearly two hundred yards from the actual scene of the disaster.
For some moments bombs fell like rain. Several of the gun emplacements in the dunes were utterly wrecked. In others the guns were temporarily disabled by quantities of sand that, hurled right and left by the bombs, choked the bore and clogged the delicate mechanism of the sights and training gear.
The torpedo-boats in the basin also had a rough handling. Several, to escape destruction, put out to sea, but in the confusion many collided in the narrow, intricate channel. Others were sunk alongside the quays. Of the forty naval vessels belonging to the port, twenty-two only escaped.
Expecting every moment to find the building collapse over their heads, Tressidar and his companion stuck to their posts at the window, Presently they saw one of the huge armoured cars proceeding at a furious pace down the military road behind the dunes. As it tore along, its obliquely-pointed quick-firer spat venomously at the British seaplanes until a bomb, falling quite a hundred feet from the car, tore a deep hole in the roadway. At the same time a flying fragment of metal found its way through the narrow slit in the steel plating behind which sat the driver. The man was either killed or seriously wounded, for the powerfully engined vehicle was no longer under control. Gradually, at a speed of approximately forty miles an hour, it described a curve in a right-handed direction, while the gunners, their attention fixed upon the elusive targets a thousand feet or more above their heads, were in ignorance of the danger that threatened them.
"Dash it all!" exclaimed Tressidar excitedly. "That car will barge into something in half a shake."
Already the vehicle had left the broad road and was ploughing with no apparent effort through the sand. It was heading towards the prison buildings.
Through the outer palisade it came, hurtling the steel rods right and left. Then, without checking its headlong career, the car wrenched its way through the double lines of barbed wire, carrying away yards of fencing as it did so.
The anti-aircraft gun had now ceased firing. The gunners, aware of the fact that the car was a derelict, but unable to gain the steering compartment, were helpless.
"Stand by!" exclaimed Tressidar.
The warning was necessary. The motor-battering-ram was charging straight for the window. Promptly the chums backed away from the bars. Judging by the speed and momentum of the petrol-driven vehicle there was great danger of the car charging completely through the stone building.
The next instant there was a violent crash. Stone, mortar, iron bars, woodwork flew in all directions accompanied by clouds of dust, while rearing at an alarming angle upon the mound of debris was the car.
It was totally wrecked. The muzzle of the anti-aircraft gun, having caught in the overhanging masonry, had been wrenched from its mountings, tearing away the steel roof of the car and pinning the two gunners under the heavy metal. The petrol from the burst tanks 'was saturating everything within the limit of its flood, although, fortunately for Tressidar and his companion, the highly volatile spirit had not exploded. To add to the horrors of the scene bombs from the British seaplanes were still falling.
"Come along!" shouted Tressidar, bawling to make himself heard above the din.
"Right-oh," replied Fuller with alacrity.
The sub. had no definite plan. All he knew was that a path had been cleared for them through the formidable barriers. There was a chance—a very slight chance—of liberty, and they seized it.
Crawling over the pile of debris and edging between the upturned side of the car and the jagged wall, they gained the open space between the building and the military road behind the dunes.
Glancing cautiously right and left, the two chums made the discovery that the coast was clear. The gunners of the stationary quick-firers, ensconced in their armoured emplacements, were too busy with their work to look elsewhere. A mile or so down the road and proceeding away from the prison buildings were two armoured cars. Every soldier, not actually engaged in firing at the seaplanes, had returned to the shelter of the dug-outs and bomb-proof casemates. Three distinct and fiercely burning fires showed unmistakable proof that the work of destruction had succeeded.
Through the gap in the shattered fence Tressidar and Fuller made their way. The severed electric wires were spluttering viciously, emitting bright blue flashes as their ends writhed like snakes. The mastiffs were no longer in evidence. Terrified by the crash of the falling bombs, they had scurried for shelter. The sentinels, too, their dread of official punishment outweighed by the fear of death or maiming from the powerful bombs, had deserted their posts, but not before a corporal and two privates had been literally wiped out of existence.
Through drifts of acrid-smelling smoke the two fugitives hastened, until they gained the slight shelter afforded by a dip in the reed-grown dunes.
So far so good, but unfortunately the seaplanes, their mission accomplished, were already on their return journey, their departure greeted by a futile discharge of shrapnel. That meant that before long the Germans would be emerging from their shelters to take stock of the damage before the officials could draft a report to Berlin announcing that yet another raid had been attended by no results of military significance.
"Say, old man," exclaimed Fuller. "What's the next move? We can't hang on here much longer."
"No," replied Tressidar slowly. He was thinking deeply, regretting that he had not previously mapped out a plan should an opportunity like that of the present arise.
Suddenly an idea flashed across his mind.
"By Jove!" he ejaculated, "what's to prevent our nabbing that captive balloon?"
"A great wheeze," rejoined Fuller, kneeling up and peering cautiously in the direction of the observation balloon.
Thank goodness it had contrived to escape attention from the far-flung fragments of the bombs. Partly inflated, and pinned to the earth by a number of cords attached to sandbags, it retained sufficient lifting power to support a couple of men, even if it were unable to rise to a very great altitude.
The balloon was deserted. Imagining that it would be a particular target for the British airmen, and knowing the danger of an explosion in the vicinity of hundreds of thousands of cubic feet of hydrogen, the men in charge had bolted precipitately at the first appearance of the seaplanes.
Unnoticed, the two grotesquely garbed fugitives gained the spot where the 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 a chisel, began to sever the cords holding the retaining weights. While six yet remained to be cut the balloon rose slowly from the ground. Its reserve of buoyancy then, in addition to the two passengers, was equal to the weight of half a dozen sandbags.
As the last cord was severed the balloon leapt skywards, until with a perceptible jerk its ascent was stopped. It was held by a flexible steel wire, the bulk of which was wound round the drum of the lowering gear.
"Pliers, quick!" exclaimed Tressidar, swinging himself up into the netting in order to bring himself within arm's length of the span to which the cable was spliced.
Fuller obeyed promptly. As he did so he became aware of something that the sub. in his excitement had not noticed. From their places of concealment numbers of German soldiers were emerging. By the shouts it was apparent that they had discovered the attempt at escape on the part of the two English prisoners.
[Illustration: "'IN WITH YOU, OLD MAN!' HE EXCLAIMED">[
The steel wire was tough and offered stubborn resistance to the pliers. Every moment was precious. Tressidar, too, was now aware of the latest danger that threatened them. In his desperate anxiety to complete his work the pliers slipped from his hand and fell a distance of thirty feet to the ground.
"See if there's anything else to cut this infernal wire," he exclaimed breathlessly, holding out his disengaged hand.
Fuller searched in vain. Amongst the collection of tools there was nothing capable of making a quick job of cutting the wire. The nearest German was within a hundred yards, and, like most of his companions, was armed with a rifle. There seemed every possibility of the luckless fugitives being done in.
Disregarding Tressidar's excitable requests to "Look sharp," the flight sub. snatched up a rifle that was lying in the car. Throwing up the bolt, he discovered, as he expected, that the weapon was already loaded. With a steady hand he held the muzzle within a couple of inches of the wire and pressed the trigger.
The next instant the balloon, captive no longer, was soaring skywards at a dizzy rate, the bullet having accomplished the task that the wire cutters had failed to do.