CHAPTER XIII
AT THE RUINED CHATEAU
Having found the man they were searching for and in so perilous a situation, neither Blaine nor Bangs wasted time. If Erwin was crippled, so much the greater reason for them to relieve him. Only by direct attack could this be accomplished, if at all. Though the Archies were now roaring more than ever, Blaine and his observer, both machine guns pointed f or instant action, started straight at the pursuing planes. Buck was with him at a convenient distance. Instantly the rattle of their guns pattered out in the air as a fusillade of bullets was showered at the foe.
The determined maneuvers of the new arrivals evidently daunted the Huns. One of them immediately turned tail. The other tried to do so but was intercepted by Blaine who, making an absolutely nervy side-loop, came up under the Fokker and began again discharging a deadly rain of bullets.
But one source of refuge was left the German. Up, up he climbed. Being cut off from retreat towards his own lines, he struck straight across towards No-Man's-Land with the big biplane full pursuit and still firing.
Meantime Bangs took after the other, bringing it down under a detached fire from the Archies who were naturally more cautious now in firing, owing to the fear of hitting one of their own planes. Still they found chances to pepper the little Nieuport in which Bangs was darting to and fro like a hawk after a chicken. But before the Fokker was sent down, Buck knew that his own wings were seriously perforated. As yet his fuselage and tank, his engine and machinery were unhurt.
Without waiting to note the fate of his opponent, Bangs turned nimbly and struck out westward, following the crippled scout wherein was the man they had set out to find and rescue.
"I'll stick by Orry," was Buck's conclusion. "I guess Blaine and
Stanley can take care of that other chap. I wonder where the rest of
the Huns are. We are in the rear lines and there should be more
Fokkers or Taubes around."
This query was soon answered. Ranging alongside Erwin, but not too near, Buck megaphoned as follows:
"How you getting on anyhow? Had a hell of a time findin' you. Didn't find you any too soon, eh?"
Erwin's replies were unimportant except that he was so crippled that he must get back to the base, or at least alight somewhere soon or he, would not be able to fly at all.
"Bent piston rods," he also phoned. "And I'm afraid my main propeller shaft has gone wrong somehow."
"All right," returned Bangs. "I'll stick with you. Hullo! What's the matter with Blaine and his man?"
At this juncture the big biplane that had been pursuing the Fokker suddenly ducked, dove far beneath his adversary and came up on the opposing side, at the same time peppering the Hun with machine gun explosive bullets.
The Fokker almost stopped and appeared to tremble. Both Bangs and Erwin saw that some serious internal injury had occurred. The German was furiously at work within his manhole, leaving the plane much to its own devices.
So patent was this that Buck, who was nearest, shot upward and let drive at the Hun from below. But instead of giving heed to this new attack, the Hun now recovered, shot off to the right and began climbing rapidly. Bangs, in accord with his resolve to stick to Erwin, did not follow, but Blaine did, at the same time megaphoning to both Buck and Orris as follows:
"I've been up higher than you fellows. There's a number of planes off in the sou'west. Gettin' so dark could hardly tell 'em apart. Better stick together and watch out!"
Though the Archies were now quite out of range, night was so near at hand that this seemed good policy. Blaine now added:
"I'm goin' to give that Fokker another round. Be back with you in a minute." Then on he went after the German.
What ensued was rather puzzling to both Bangs and Erwin. Blaine was now evidently faster than the German, whose machine had apparently sustained some internal injury. They saw the biplane close in on the Hun amid a rapid fire of bullets from each at the other.
All at once the Hun began sidling irregularly towards the earth. By this time both the others, having risen somewhat, caught glimpses through their field glasses of a number of nearing planes winging from the west. Below, as far as could be seen, stretched No-Man's-Land. Behind was a growing blackness that denoted approaching night. To both Bangs' and Erwin's astonishment, the biplane, instead of returning, was pointing downward after the crippled Fokker.
Then from the north whirled a sea-fog that presently enveloped all, obliterating what remained of light, hiding even Blaine and the adversary he had pursued. It was strange, mysterious.
Erwin, who was lower than the others, here saw the crumbling walls and towers of what had once been an old baronial chateau. Near this the biplane had landed. No sign just then of the Fokker, though that must have descended also, for the machine or the man in it was undoubtedly injured. Erwin grabbed his megaphone, shouting up at Buck hovering near, "I'm going down. Blaine's already landed. Come on!"
But for some reason Bangs declined. Being higher up, he had detected signs of those other planes invisible to those below.
"Go on down," he shouted. "I want to do a little scouting." And off he flew, determined all at once to find out who and what might be approaching. But his purpose was defeated by the onrush of the fog, that thickened still more, while those landed below were equally invisible to Buck.
However having a general idea as to the direction best for him to take, he turned that way after recklessly feeling out in vain for further sight of the approaching squadron. Here we will leave him for the present.
When Erwin at last brought his plane down beside the half ruined chateau, he found both Stanley and Blaine stooping over a prostrate form soon identified as that of the German aviator. Near by was the Fokker, somewhat disabled, but not in such bad condition. The man himself had just expired.
"What do you think that chap asked us to do," said Blaine, regarding the dead man solemnly. "It sort of mellowed me towards him, after His father and mother live in Chicago, worked for some meat packers, and his dad is making some money there. When he found that the bullets that had hit him as well as his machine weren't goin' to let him live much longer, he asked if either of us got back to our lines, to write tell his mother. He gave me the name and I put it down in my pocket pad book. He talked in good English and altogether seemed quite like some of our home folks. He got into aviation over here and liked it. But he's out of all that now and to make him feel better both Stan and I promised to do as he wished.
"He said his machine was all right; and if anything was the matter with ours we might fix up his and make a get-away. Course there ain't nothin' much the matter with mine, though yours may be crippled — hullo! What's that?"
The loud report of an exploding bomb sounded as it fell not far away. Instantly they scattered for such shelter as was obtainable. Other bombs fell and for a few minutes the scene was indescribable. They saw from the shelter both their own machines shattered too badly for further immediate use, though the Fokker remained untouched, it being some distance off and partially under the protecting shadow of a half ruined arch of the chateau that overhung the main approach.
Also they heard the whirring swish of the passing squadron as it circled over the buildings. It afterwards appeared that the chateau owner was for some reason specially obnoxious to the Germans in Belgium. At last the bombing apparently ceased, but even this was deceptive. Both Blaine and Erwin, followed at a little distance by Stanley, ran out to look into the damage done to their machines. In the darkness this was slow work. A fire was lighted, and while still examining the wrecks another whirring overhead sounded.
Stanley discreetly dodged under another projecting abutment, when down dropped another bomb, probably thrown at a venture from some scattering member of the squad that had just passed. From his shelter Stanley was horrified to see both Blaine and Erwin, who were near the fire, thrown violently down as the bomb burst appallingly near where they were crouched. They; did not rise again.
Without waiting to see if other bombs might fall, the observer ran forward in great perturbation. Both aviators lay apparently senseless. From Blaine's head blood was flowing from a flesh wound somewhere up under his thick mop of short curly hair. His pulse, however, was beating lively.
As for Erwin, no visible wounds were apparent, yet he lay there deathly pale while some of his clothing had been torn by fragments of the exploding bomb.
Of Buck Bangs there was no sign.
Deeply depressed, for he was very young and impressionable, Stanley, regardless of his own safety, punched up the fire and from his own and his comrades' kits procured such remedies as aviators carry for just such emergencies. In the dark he hunted for water but found none. From a flask of good French brandy he managed to pour a spoonful or so down each throat, taking a swallow himself, for he felt he sorely needed it.
Poor old Blaine never stirred. Erwin at last shivered slightly.
"Isn't this a deuce of a fix?" he sighed at length. "Where are we? For all I know, Blaines may be dead. Here, feeling again of Lafe's pulse, its steady beat somewhat reassured Stanley. "How about Orris?"
If anything, Erwin's pulse was coming back. The brandy had restored such vitality to the lad that his arteries were again sending the life-giving fluid upon its unceasing task.
"What can have become of Buck?" Stanley replenished the fire with stray fuel, for he knew that it would be a signal to Bangs and perhaps to the enemy; but as to the last he hoped not, amid that chilly darkness and night fog.
Here a slight noise from his rear caused Stanley to wheel in his tracks and stare stupidly at a dim figure under the shadow of a portico in front of the basement of the main edifice, which was, in fact, about the only part of that vast group of buildings that seemed unharmed.
"Who are you? What brought you here?" came an unmistakably feminine voice.
More wonderful still, the language was English — good English, too. Was there not also an American twang about the tone and accent? Stanley could have pinched himself, had he thought of it. But so surprised was he that he seemed actually paralyzed, when an unmistakably girlish figure emerged more into the light.
Still the young observer stared, hardly noticed that another older form had made a dim appearance. It, too, wore skirts, though rather raged and soiled. The girl's habiliments also evinced that her recent abode had not been where style and cleanliness were at all dominant.
"You — you are not Germans?" This tremulously from the girl. "You understand me, don't you?"
"Yes, ma am," Stanley almost stuttered.
"Y-you s-see — I'm some surprised —"
"Some surprised!" The girl was smiling hopefully. "That sounds like good old United States talk."
"We heard so much noise overhead, then some nasty bombs exploding. So Brenda and I have lain hidden in the cellars for — for hours. Haven't we, Brenda? The dim form in the rear nodded emphatically. "But who are you?"
Here she caught sight of the ruined planes and the prostrate forms of
Blaine and Erwin, with also the more distant figure of the dead German.
"Oh — oh!" She clasped her hands. "How dreadful! What can we do?
May we not help? Are they all dead?"
The girl was genuinely aroused, so much so that her natural horror of the strained situation was lost in genuine concern. Stanley briefly explained the series of incidents that had preceded the present situation, at the same time pointing at the dead German aviator, and concluding with:
"The poor chap used to live in Chicago. Before he died he gave us his parents' address there. He spoke good English."
"Why, Chicago is where I hail from," said the girl. "Good old Windy City! I wish I was there now, although I have been over here many months."
Meantime Brenda, with the ready adaptability of Belgian women, had been examining the persons of the two still insensible aviators. All at once she rose up, saying to her mistress:
"Pardon, miss." This in her own Flemish tongue. "We must move these Americans to our under ground rooms. They will recover, but they need attention."
"You are sure right, Miss - Miss —" Stanley hesitated, but the girl paid no heed. "We don't want to inconvenience you, but something will have to be done right away."
With the able assistance of Brenda, while the girl went ahead carrying a small lamp that had been produced as if by magic from somewhere - possibility by Brenda — they picked up poor Erwin and followed. Down some half ruined stone steps they went, then through a long passage, then down more steps to a half open door.
Once inside, Stanley saw he was in quite a sizeable room, with two beds, one large, the other a mere cot. The girl led the way to the large bed, and there they laid the still swooning man who gave a slight groan as he was deftly covered by the girl who murmured as if to herself:
"Poor fellow, he has suffered!"
Already Stanley was leaving, saying:
"We must get Blaine down here quickly. He is in a bad way, I fear."
Seizing the lamp, the girl hurried after. On reaching the other stricken aviator, what was their surprise to find him leaning on one elbow, trying to rise, but vainly.
"Wha — what's the matter? Where am I?"
"You're with friends, old boy," soothed Stanley, seizing Blaine's arms, while Brenda took up the lower limbs. With the wounded man muttering aimlessly, again they wended their way to the lower chamber, evidently used by the girl and Brenda as a temporary sleeping place.
With deft efficiency the girl had snatched up Stanley's kit of dressings and other medical paraphernalia and hurried on ahead with the lamp. In a trice they had placed him on the cot. Immediately the two women were busy with these things and some stored aids of their own, dressing the bruises on both the boys and applying restoratives, so that in a short time both were awake, sensible, and staring with grateful wonder at these two women — angels of mercy — and the strange yet comfortable surroundings.
Mutual explanations had already begun when whirring, semi-thunderous noises again were heard. Stanley was instantly on the alert.
"All of you remain quiet while I slip up and see what is on," he said, flinging back: "If your light is apt to shine through any hole or opening, better douse it or hang up covers. Make no noises until you hear from me." He was off, but not before the girl called to him:
"Be very careful, sir! We cannot spare you - yet."
"No, we can't, ma'am," remarked Blaine from the cot where he now sat upright with a bandaged head.
"Indeed, Sir," said the girl almost wistfully, "we cannot spare any of you. Just think, we have been here a week, and with more or less bombing going on each day and sometimes at night."
"May I ask, mademoiselle —" began Blaine.
"Just plain Miss," interrupted the girl. "Miss Daskam from Chicago!"
"Well, well!" Blaine was smilingly openly now. "That surely sounds homelike! Well, we're all Americans too. We were on an air raid and had a good deal of mixed luck. Blaine's my name; that's Erwin over there," pointing at the cot where Orris was grinning and smiling. "The chap who went out just now is Stanley. He is my observer. But our machine is smashed now and how we will all get back is more than I know. Eh, Orry?"
"Looks that way. But what's the use of worrying while we are in such charming company? I'm all right."
And to prove it Erwin stepped out on the floor, a little teetery perhaps, but once more himself. He made a not ungraceful bow.
"May I ask, Miss Daskam, how you happened to get cornered down here in this poor old chateau? It must have been a grand place once — but now!" He shrugged slightly, regarding Miss Daskam sympathizingly.
"The wife of the owner of this place is my sister. I came over as a member of the Belgian Red Cross. Both my sister and her husband are, or were, at headquarters when I left the Belgian lines. I had a permit to visit his chateau; for in the days before I came over here I had left there certain papers most important to them both. I wanted to see the place and I had a friend that was chummy with the Boches in Brussels. He had forwarded me a pass. So I insisted on taking Brenda along and trying it alone. You know western girls are not much afraid of things."
"Well, you were plucky enough, anyhow, interposed Erwin and Blaine nodded.
"Up to that time, after the chateau had been bombarded by our Allies in their final advance towards Paschiendale after Vimy ridge, it had rested unharmed further."
"But you can never count on what Fritz will do, or when he'll begin," remarked Blaine. Then as the girl went on, Erwin sat down suddenly as if something within him had all at once given way.
"Keep still, Mr. Erwin," she cautioned. "You're not well vet. As I was saving we got through the lines all right. If either my sister or the Baron had gone, they would have been made prisoners at least. I was a Red Cross nurse. We had done good work over there and even the Germans were well disposed. But if it wasn't for Brenda, I hardly know how we'd have managed Brenda is a — a whole team, you know." She pressed her servant's worn hand as she continued. "We reached the chateau, secured the papers with out much trouble, for Brenda, being an old family servitor, knew where to find them. That very night, while we were in these underground rooms, the Germans began dropping bombs all about.
"It appeared that the Allies from over our way had gotten to raiding behind the lines, not knowing we were here, of course. Otherwise they would not have begun, for the Baron is highly respected among the Belgians and other Allies Why not? He is one of their King Albert's main leaders. Well, after that we simply had a terrible time. First one side, then the other would either fight overhead, or pass to and fro, dropping bombs here and there. Oh, it was terrible!"
"Poor child!" This from Brenda. "She no harm no one; but dem Boche, he no care what he do or where he do it. Ally not know either."
"Well, we have been here ever since. Now you have come, perhaps we may somehow find a way to get out."
Here Stanley suddenly entered, looking strangely resolved. Above, the explosive noises had gradually died out. Looking at Blaine, he said:
"Lafe, I have fixed up that German's Fokker All it needs is more gasoline and there's still some in your tank and Orry's. If you don't care, I'll fly that Fokker over our lines before morning and manage to bring some help. Neither of you are strong enough to go and I understand Fokkers pretty well. What say?"
"That won't do at all," exclaimed Erwin, making another violent effort not only to stand but to walk. All at once he tottered and would have fallen, but Brenda caught him, placing him back on the cot.
"That'll do for you, Orris," began Blaine. "Shucks! I feel quite pert. Just you watch me!"
But it turned out that Blaine was, if anything, weaker than his friend, and silence gave consent to his first proposal. Even Miss Daskam assented, adding: "I hope when you do return with help, sir, that it will be sufficient to enable Brenda and me to accompany you."
For the first time Stanley seemed to catch the wistfulness in her eyes and tone. He impulsively took her hand, saying:
"Believe me, Miss Aida — Daskam, I mean," (She had already whispered to him her full name), "if any of us gets back out of this mess, you may be sure you will be among them —"
"And Brenda, too?"
"Brenda, too! If I know anything of our folks back at the aerodrome, we will have plenty of help."
In another minute he was gone. Brenda went with him to help about the gasoline, and in an short time, under her pilotage, he reached an open spot where he could rise.
They heard the whirring of his wings; he was gone.