CHAPTER XIX
THE MINED TUNNEL
"A dozen wellnigh breathless Huns, with greasy uniform and battered equipment, struggling to dive into the cellar in which Ralph's Tank had become a "fixture," roused the crew to action.
The Germans, with their intimate local knowledge, expected to find a safe retreat, until, to their consternation, they were confronted by the blunt nose of the stranded landship and covered by two maxims that could be brought to bear upon them although unable to be trained over the pile of rubble that lay betwixt the Tank and the street.
"Hands up!" shouted Ralph.
The order was obeyed instantly.
"Ye vos Sachsen!" called out an imploring voice. "Mercy, Kamerad."
The statement was a false one, and Setley knew it.
"You are Prussians," he replied; "but we'll give you quarter. Keep your hands up. The first man who lowers his arms will be shot."
Keeping close to the bows of the landship the crowd of now terrified Huns obeyed the instructions. Throwing open the armoured door, Corporal Anderson and two others of the crew emerged from the Tank and deftly removed the prisoners side-arms and ammunition. This done, they stood by to warn any parties of British bombers who in the heat of the pursuit might hurl their devastating missiles into the cellar.
In the midst of his task Anderson spotted one man's hand stealthily approaching his pocket.
"Wot 'ave you got there, old sport?" enquired the corporal, gripping the Hun's wrist. "Search 'im, Smutty," he added, addressing one of the Tommies.
The private did so, and discovered a small automatic pistol.
"So that's the bloomin' game, eh?" enquired Ginger. "Let 'im go, Smutty. Now, look to yourself, Fritz. I'm a-goin' to dot you one."
The German evidently understood, and clenching his fists stood on his guard. The next instant he was flat on his back, contemplating the superb display of a galaxy of stars that danced before his fast-closing eyes.
"What's up, Ginger?" asked Alderhame, and, glancing keenly at one of the prisoners, suddenly lapsed into his unbreakable habit of quoting the bard:
"O world, thy slippery turns. Friends now fast sworn
Unseparable, shall within this hour,
On a dissension of a doit, break out
To bitterest enmity."
To which the prisoner replied, in a faultless English accent:
"Alderhame! I little thought to see you here. Let me see: only three years and six months ago we were on the boards together in Much Ado about Nothing."
"And now," added Alderhame, "we're producing Measure for Measure."
"I hope it will be All's Well that Ends Well," rejoined the German. "I'm properly fed up with this war, and will be glad to be out of it."
"You will be—in a prison camp in England," the sergeant assured him. "We'll see that you are sent under escort to the rear. Unless your own guns cop you there'll be nothing to fear. What made the crowd of you make a dive for this cellar?"
"I don't mind telling you now," he said, in a low voice. "There's a tunnel. That Tank has blocked up the entrance. It communicates with our reserve lines, and the whole place is heavily mined. I would advise you to clear out as soon as possible, for when our people have waited sufficiently long to enable our troops to withdraw—the few that are left, that is—the village will be blown to atoms."
Strong-nerved though he was, the ex-actor felt a cold shiver in the neighbourhood of his spine. The possibility of being in close proximity to a quantity of high explosive that would explode by the act of touching a key—and more than likely a Hun was at that very instant toying with the electric battery that would fire the charge—was enough to make any man blench.
With an effort he pulled himself together.
"All right," he said, addressing his former brother actor and present enemy. "I'll send you out under escort. Yes, the whole crowd of you, I mean."
Obtaining Second-Lieutenant Setley's permission, Alderhame despatched the prisoners under the charge of Corporal Anderson and two men. The moment they had gone Alderhame imparted the grave news to his superior officer.
"Send a man to warn the Divisional Officer of the troops holding the village," ordered Ralph. "We'll have to abandon the Tank, I fancy."
At an order the crew hurriedly prepared to leave the shelter of the stranded landship, but before they could do so a terrific concussion shook the already tottering walls of the cellar, and an avalanche of bricks from the upper part of the walls descended with a crash, completely cutting off their retreat.
"Pleasant," remarked Ralph. "With a mine somewhere under you and H.E. shells dropping overhead, and unable to get out of this hole, life is a bit exciting. No, Alderhame; no more Shakespeare, please. We'll try and find the tunnel to which your German acquaintance referred. By the by, who is he?"
"He was in the same Repertoire Company with me," replied the ex-actor. "It was in those dim and distant days before the war, yet I remember how we parted."
He paused reflectively. Setley looked at him enquiringly.
"Well?" he asked tentatively.
"It was just before Treasury—that is, the weekly pay-day. He borrowed a sovereign—maybe you recollect what that is, or was: a circular flat disc of shining gold, for which one had to display a certain amount of affection. He cleared out shortly afterwards, and I haven't seen that Jimmy o' Goblin since—and don't expect to. However, sir, he's done us a good turn warning us about the mine, though it were to save his own skin."
In the intense gloom the crew of the Tank sought for the entrance of the tunnel. Cautiously loosening brickwork and removing piles of rubble they at length found the object of their quest—a long, narrow, concreted passage that was originally intended for a communication between the vast subterranean rooms under the village.
"Be careful, sir," cautioned Sergeant Alderhame, as Ralph flashed his electric torch. "There might be some Huns lurking down here."
"Hardly," objected Setley. "It seemed to be common knowledge amongst the Prussians that the place is mined. They'll keep clear. The trouble is, I take it, to discover and disconnect the electric wires before they spring the whole show."
The subaltern and his men hastened down the passage. If ever there was a race against time this was. At eighty paces from the mouth further progress was barred by a formidable barrier of sand-bags—the "tamping" by which the main force of the explosion would be diverted from what would otherwise be the easiest path—an horizontal direction along the tunnel.
"We'll have to shift that lot," said Ralph encouragingly. "All hands together, lads."
It was a tough task, for five yards' thickness of sand-bags had to be removed before the mine chamber was reached. It was a nerve-racking task when the huge store of explosive stood revealed in the glare of an electric torch. At any moment the stuff might explode.
"It'll save the sanitary squad a job if it does," remarked one of the men grimly, "Anyway, it's a mighty quick death—none of that rotten hanging about."
Five minutes later more work resulted in the discovery of two insulated wires that met in a metal box containing the primer. With a sigh of relief Ralph severed the wires. Unless there were more sets the immediate danger was over.
All this time the place was trembling under the concussion of heavy shells overhead. Presently with remarkable suddenness the shelling ceased.
"What does it mean, I wonder?" thought Ralph. "It can't be that our fellows have been compelled to give ground. We must endeavour to get out of this hole and see what's doing."
Bidding the men bring a small quantity of the explosive with them, Setley retraced his way. During his absence more rubble had fallen, and the roof of the Tank was covered with a tightly jammed mass of broken bricks.
"Looks healthy, sir," commented Alderhame.
"Yes," agreed Ralph. "It seems as if we are to stop here until we are dug out, unless we can contrive to blow away this mass of rubble. Unfortunately, I am not expert in the art of the use of explosives."
"There's one of our fellows who used to be a quarryman," announced the sergeant. "I'll get him."
In answer to his call, a little sharp-featured Welshman stepped forward.
"Yes," he replied, in a shrill falsetto. "I have blasted stone for the last three years. I do not know what strength this stuff has, but we'll try."
Taking about seven pounds of the explosive the Welshman rammed it in a cavity in the wall of rubble, filled in the mouth with sand-bags brought from the mine gallery, and laid a fuse of cordite, obtained by opening half a dozen cartridges.
"All ready, sir," he reported. "Get back all of you. I'll fire it. It'll burn for thirty seconds, I guess, and that'll be enough for me to hook it."
The rest of the crew entered the Tank, the door being left open for the brave Welshman to gain shelter before the explosion.
Presently a match flickered in the gloom, followed by the sizzling of the sticks of cordite, which burned with comparative slowness when not under pressure.
With a furious bound the Welshman leapt into the Tank, his head butting into the stomach of a comrade who was holding the door in readiness to slam it the moment the man had gained shelter.
Even in the midst of danger the two began mutual recriminations, the Welshman asking "what the silly idiot meant by getting in his way," the other retorting by requesting him in future to use his eyes to see where he was going.
The argument ended with the terrific roar of the explosion, the sound intensified in the confined space. Fragments of the brickwork rattled on the Tank's armoured snout, clouds of acrid-smelling smoke wafted into the crowded interior of the landship, but the object was achieved.
Opening the door, Ralph saw sunlight filtering through the dust-laden atmosphere. Making his way along the new exit, he cautiously reconnoitred. The street was practically empty, save for the corpses that littered the ground and a group of staff officers who had evidently just emerged from taking cover.
"Confound you, sir!" roared a portly major-general. "What game do you think you're playing? Do you know you nearly blew us sky-high? Confound you, again!"
Setley waited until the irate officer had spoken his mind; then, saluting, made a brief report of his discovery.
"There you are, Richards; I told you so," exclaimed the staff officer, turning to one of his entourage. "The place is mined. Suppose it's safe now?"
"I think so, sir," replied Ralph.
"It may come in handy against the Von der Golz Redoubt, in case our men fail to secure a footing," observed the major addressed as Richards.
"There's no failure about it," snapped the major-general. "Send an orderly to the officer commanding the Royal Engineer detachment and request him to take steps to remove the explosive from the mine chamber. And what were you doing there?" he added, directing his attention to Setley. Evidently an explanation at least was necessary to justify the explosion that had all but settled a group of staff officers.
"Tank, eh? What made you turn her into a cellar? Didn't know? Well, you jolly well ought to. At a time when every available Tank is required in front of the Von der Golz Redoubt you topple the bally thing into a cellar."
Ralph was heartily glad to find himself dismissed from the presence of the peppery staff officer. He felt considerably ill-used. Instead of receiving a word of thanks for his resourcefulness in saving the captured position from being blown to hits, he had been "rapped over the knuckles."
"Here's a pioneer section just arrived, sir," reported Sergeant Alderhame. "If you saw the company commander perhaps he would spare enough men to help us dig a way out. It won't take much work, I think. The rubble has been well sifted by the bursting charge."
The officer readily consented to assist in the salvage operations. After all, the Tank had settled on the floor of the cellar, which was about eight feet below the ground-level. Before she had come to a standstill she had given forward for nearly five yards, and the whole of this space was now filled in with bricks and mortar, forming a fairly steep gradient.
Working strenuously for twenty minutes the fatigue party succeeded in levelling the slope sufficiently to enable the Tank to back. Fortunately, the motors and tractor-bands were intact. The mounting of one of the quickfirers was damaged beyond repair, the other was put in order by the crew.
Amidst the cheers of the men the Tank climbed, stern-foremost, out of her place of imprisonment and gained the shell-pitted street.
An orderly, doubling towards the British lines, stopped by the side of the freed machine.
"Can you push forward, sir?" he asked. "The infantry are being held up. There are only five Tanks left in action."