The Dispatch-Riders: The Adventures of Two British Motor-cyclists in the Great War

by Percy F. Westerman

  CHAPTER XIV

  A Friend in Need

  "Seems a bit low-down, but there was no other way as far as I couldsee," commented Kenneth as he made his way down the stairs.

  It was a relief to get into the open air once more. Inserting fourfresh cartridges into the chambers of his revolver, he replaced theweapon in his holster, and without giving another glance at the houseof death and destruction he made his way to the stables, where theUhlans' horses were tethered. He would not leave the helpless brutesto be fastened up perhaps for days. They would at least have a chanceto eat and drink, for there was plenty of pasture and the river washandy.

  Having given the animals their liberty, the lad remounted his cycle androde along the only possible route. By the position of the sun he knewthat he was going nearly due north, which was not in the direction hesupposed Cortenaeken to be. To add to the difficulties of thesituation there was the unpleasant fact that patrols of German cavalrywere already in the district. Where, then, was the Belgian force thatwas supposed to be holding the district between Diest and Tirlemont?

  There were houses scattered about in plenty; some to all outwardappearance intact, others either burning furiously or reduced to foursmoke-blackened walls.

  After traversing about five miles of the indifferent lane, Kennethfound himself on a broad highway, bordered on both sides with trees.Here were civilians in throngs--men, women, and children--and a morewoebegone crowd the British lad had never before beheld. Most of themwere on foot, staggering under weighty bundles. Even the children hadtheir burdens, mostly domestic pets. There were fowls in crates,rabbits, cats, and pigeons; masterless dogs tore frantically throughthe sad procession; others, harnessed to small carts piled high withgoods and chattels, trotted docilely by the side of their masters.There were large farm-carts, too, creaking under the weight offurniture, on the top of which were perched refugees either too old ortoo young to make the journey afoot. The men were stolid of feature,but several of the women were crying; while with few exceptions thechildren, unable to comprehend the real nature of their hurried exodus,were laughing and chattering with excitement at their novel experience.

  Kenneth dismounted and stopped an old Belgian, who by his dress hadevidently been well-to-do.

  "Can you direct me to Cortenaeken, monsieur?"

  "To where Cortenaeken was," corrected the man. "It has been burnt bythe accursed Prussians."

  "And the troops? I have a message for Major Foveneau, who was holdingthe village----"

  "You will not find a single Belgian there, monsieur--at least, not aliving one. They have been compelled to retire on Louvain."

  The Belgian courteously raised his hat and passed on hurriedly, forwhile he was speaking came the distant intermittent reports ofrifle-firing. The whole procession of refugees quickened its pace.The menace was too close to be ignored.

  Kenneth pulled out his map. He was now able to form a fairly accurateidea of where he was. He had no desire to return. His anxietyconcerning his chum urged him to make his way as quickly as possible toLouvain. There, at least, he might be able to gain informationconcerning the British dispatch-rider who ought to have reportedhimself to Major Foveneau.

  According to the map, Kenneth saw that there was a road to the left ata mile or so from where he stood. It struck the village of Winghe St.Georges, which was on the main road between Diest and Tirlemont andslightly nearer to the latter town.

  Springing into the saddle Kenneth set off at a furious pace. Ahead,but slightly to the right, was a dense column of smoke that marked thesite of the destroyed village of Cortenaeken. Farther away were morepillars of black vapour, the handiwork of the vengeful invaders, whoseprinciple was to terrorize the luckless Belgians into a spirit ofnon-resistance.

  The lad was heartily glad when he gained the branch road, since it ledaway from the desolated area. But before he had gone very far hebecame aware that he was crossing the tracks of a fighting force inretreat. Over the fields on either side and across the road werenumerous deep ruts caused by wheels of artillery and service wagons.Here and there were abandoned carts, while half-buried in a muddy ditchwas a field-piece with one wheel shattered. Its limber and severaleither dead or wounded horses still in the traces had overturned on theother side of the road. Yet, apart from the distant cannonade, therewere no sounds of actual combat.

  Kenneth was sorely tempted to follow the tracks of the retirement. Itwould be hard going, he argued, but where a gun could go hismotor-cycle ought to be able to follow. But on further considerationhe decided to keep to the road, at least as far as Winghe St. Georges.

  Onwards he rode till he approached a ruined homestead. Four shatteredwalls, two gaunt gables, and a few scorched rafters were all thatremained of the house. Surrounding it was a wall, broken in manyplaces. Abutting on the wall were several roofless sheds.

  "Halte-la!" exclaimed a voice. "There is danger ahead."

  Kenneth pulled up sharply and, dismounting, looked in the directionfrom which the voice came. As he did so a man in the uniform of theBelgian lancers came out of the ruined house. He had lost his helmet,his coat was torn and covered with dust. Above his right knee was ablood-stained bandage. He was supporting himself by means of a rifle,using the weapon as a crutch with the butt under his armpit.

  "What has happened, comrade?" asked the lad.

  The soldier regarded him with evident suspicion.

  "You are not a Belgian," he said pointedly, "yet you are in the uniformof our dispatch-riders."

  "Quite so," replied Kenneth, producing his identification card. "I ama British subject in the Belgian service."

  "British?" repeated the man. "What, then, is British? In faith, I donot know."

  "English, then."

  "Ah, English--good! Now I comprehend. But, monsieur, it is unsafe togo farther. There are Germans in force a few kilometres along theroad. Their cavalry screens are thrown out over yonder. We had toretire. To me it is amazing how you came so far without falling inwith the accursed Prussians."

  "I saw a few Uhlans," announced Kenneth.

  "Tete bleu! And what did they do?"

  "Very little as far as I was concerned," replied the lad. "Theymurdered some civilians, so I shot them."

  The Belgian's eyes glistened.

  "You are a brave youth," he exclaimed.

  "I think not in this case," objected Kenneth. "They were half-drunk,and had only just awoke. It seemed hardly fair play, yet----"

  "Do not apologize, monsieur," growled the lancer. "After what thesedevils have done they have no right to expect any consideration. Overthere, for example--but come within. It is hazardous to remain in theopen. Perhaps, even now, we have been observed through some Prussianfield-glasses. Your bicycle? It will be of no further use. It isbetter to destroy it and throw the remains into the ditch."

  Kenneth shook his head.

  "No fear," he objected resolutely. "I'd rather take my chances on theroad."

  "Impossible," declared the Belgian. "You would be shot before you wentanother three kilometres. And if the Germans see your motor-cycle theywill be doubly suspicious and search the house."

  "I'll leave it for the time being in one of those sheds," suggested thelad. "It won't be seen from the road."

  The Belgian, beyond muttering "imbecile" under his breath, made nofurther objection. He even assisted Kenneth, as well as his woundwould permit, to lift the heavy mount over the rubble in the gap of theouter wall.

  "This place will do," declared the lad as he reached the furthermostshed. The roof and one angle of the brickwork had been demolished, butthe rest of the building was almost intact. Having removed thesparking-plug, so as to render the cycle useless to the enemy in theevent of its discovery, Kenneth placed the cycle on its side andcovered it with a thick layer of damp and rotten straw. To allappearance the interior of the shed was a farm refuse-heap. Noprowling German would be likely to want to use the straw for bedding orany o
ther purpose.

  "Come this way," said the Belgian, who, during the progress ofKenneth's operations, had begun to alter his opinion as to the dangerof leaving the cycle as "incriminating evidence". "We will go to thehouse. In the cellar we can rest and perhaps have food. Have youanything to eat?"

  "Two rolls and some chocolate," replied Kenneth. "We will share that."

  "Good!" exclaimed the lancer, his eyes glistening at the prospect offood. "But there are others--three comrades of mine. We have noteaten anything to-day but raw turnips, and raw turnips are not verysustaining food on which to make a cavalry charge. It was in front ofCortenaeken that I got this," and he pointed to his wounded leg.

  "Yet it is nothing," he added lightly, "a mere scratch; but I repaidthe Prussian who gave it to me. Ah! This is what I require. I willnow be able to discard this rifle. My own carbine is within."

  He had stopped in the midst of his narrative, and was pointing to ahay-rake that rested in a corner of the wall.

  "I will knock off the teeth and shorten the handle. Ciel! It willmake an excellent crutch. As for the rifle, I may safely throw it downthe well, unless you, monsieur, might care to have it. It may beuseful to you."

  "I have no cartridges."

  "We have enough--about four hundred between the four of us.Nevertheless, you will have to clean the barrel carefully, for it iscaked with earth. If you fired it in that state, without doubt itwould do you more harm than the man at whom you pointed it. There, didI not say so?"

  With a wave of his disengaged arm the Belgian indicated a cloud of dustrising from the road.

  "We must hasten, yet be cautious," he continued. "That dust hides acolumn of German infantry."

  Kenneth followed his new comrade into the house. The upper floor hadalmost disappeared. The ground floor was littered with charredfragments of rafters and boards, cakes of plaster and partly-burnedthatch, in addition to broken articles of furniture. The parting-wallshad been overthrown, so that the interior of the building presented theappearance of an open space.

  Scrambling over the debris the wounded lancer made his way to a cornerof the tottering walls. He stooped painfully and with considerableeffort, and thrusting his fingers between the rubbish took hold of aniron ring. At this he heaved, and lifted a large flap about six inches.

  "Assist me, monsieur," he said. "I am not quite so strong as I wasfour hours ago."

  "One minute," exclaimed Kenneth. "I'll clear some of this rubbishaway."

  "Tiens!" ejaculated the Belgian. "Let it remain, for when we let theflap fall it will spread and hide the cracks in the floor. No one willthen suspect that there is a cellar. Now, lift together.--Soyeztranquille!" he shouted, to reassure his comrades in hiding.

  At a gesture from his newly-found friend, Kenneth descended the steepwooden ladder till his feet touched the stone floor of the cellar. TheBelgian lancer followed more slowly, uttering maledictions under hisbreath at every step. Another of the occupants of the cellar ascended,and pulled the flap down with a resounding crash. The place seemed intotal darkness.

  "A new comrade--an Englishman in the service of our country," announcedthe lancer; and Kenneth's hands were warmly grasped by his unseen hosts.

  After a while his eyes grew accustomed to the semi-gloom, for thedaylight filtered through a small irregular opening at one end of theunderground room. The Belgians present did not belong to the sameregiment. One was a corporal of infantry, another an artilleryman, thethird a Civil Guard, whose head-gear, somewhat resembling a bowler hat,made him easily recognizable. Their rifles were resting against thewall, their cartridge pouches and heavy packs had been thrown on thefloor, and by their sides were some partly-consumed slices of turnip.

  Kenneth promptly shared his rations, which were ravenously eaten by thehalf-famished men. The corporal, having swallowed his portion of rolland chocolate, took up his position at the opening through which thedaylight could be seen.

  "They come!" he announced. "The pigs! Look!"

  The rest of the men made their way to the post of observation. Thecellar was of brick, with massive oaken rafters overhead and a stonefloor. At one end was a flight of stone steps that at one timecommunicated with the outside of the house. A fall of brick-work hadalmost entirely closed this exit, leaving a space about two inches inheight and a little more than a foot in width between the top of thedebris and the underside of the arch. The aperture was thus broadenough to afford an outlook for two persons without the faintest riskof discovery.

  The corporal, as observation man, remained at his post, the otherstaking turn to gaze upon the approaching regiment of their hated foes.

  The German troops had evidently gone through a rough experience. Theylooked utterly done up. Most of them were in their shirt-sleeves,their coats and accoutrements hanging from their rifles. Several werewithout caps, and many had been wounded. In spite of the swelteringheat they marched in close column, wellnigh choked with dust, and onlykept at a brisk pace by the unsympathetic orders and threats of theirofficers.

  As the head of the column approached, several men were ordered todouble up to the ruined house. Already the German commander had goodreason to dread the fury of the Belgian civil population, and everyhouse on the line of march was searched for possible snipers before theregiment was allowed to march past it.

  Kenneth could hear the Prussians' boots crunching on the rubbleoverhead, and their guttural shouts as they reported that the buildingwas untenanted.

  Then the column was again set in motion, and as the troops marchedstolidly by, Kenneth saw that in their midst were about twenty peasantsof both sexes.

  The Belgian corporal rapped out an oath.

  "The cowards!" he hissed. "They will use these people--countrymen--toscreen their advance. They did so at Haelen and Landen. I wouldgladly bring down that red-faced Colonel but for the fact that thosepeasants would be instantly massacred."

  Reluctantly the man closed the safety-catch of his rifle. The impulseto shoot had been tantalizing. Only his concern for his lucklessfellow-countrymen had prevented the Belgian from sending a bulletthrough the Prussian officer's heart. Ignorant of his escape theColonel rode past, followed by the rest of the regiment, for, frommotives of extraordinary caution, he was in the centre of the column.

  Another and yet another grey-clad regiment tramped past. With feelingsakin to consternation, Kenneth realized that a considerable portion ofthe German army was now between him and his regiment. And Rollo--whathad become of him?

  Several hours passed. The Belgians, unable to control their naturalvivacity, chattered gaily, relating their individual adventures, andclosely questioning Kenneth as to his views on British aid for thesorely-harassed country. Occasionally, when their look-out reportedfresh troops in sight, they would relapse into silence. Theartilleryman jotted down in a pocket-book particulars and estimatednumbers of all the German regiments that passed along the road,remarking that to-morrow, perhaps, the information might be useful tohis officers.

  About five in the afternoon the stream slackened, and half an hourlater there were no signs of the invaders. The Belgians discussed thepossibility of making a dash for their own lines, and eventuallydecided to attempt to put their plan into execution shortly aftermidnight. Even the wounded lancer expressed his confidence in hisability to keep up with his comrades.

  "And will you accompany us?" he asked, addressing his British comrade.

  "There's my motor-cycle," said Kenneth tentatively.

  "Pouf! It is of no consequence. Let it remain; there are others to beobtained. It is useless to attempt to take it with you. The roads areunsafe, while in the open the ditches are too wide to take it across."

  Still Kenneth hesitated. He had no doubt that the Belgian spoketruthfully, and that he could obtain another mount at head-quarters;but it would not be the same cycle, to which he was greatly attached.

  While the wounded lancer was still endeavouring to persuade Kenneth t
omake the attempt on foot, the corporal, from the post of observation,reported that a patrol of Uhlans was approaching.

  "There are but seven," he announced, "and they have a prisoner withthem. Shall we----?" and he significantly tapped his rifle.

  After a short interval one of the Belgians stood aside to allow Kennethto look at the approaching patrol. They were riding their horses at awalking pace, their long lances being stepped in "buckets" behind theirbacks. Most of them were smoking large curved pipes.

  Suddenly Kenneth uttered a half-stifled shout of surprise, for theprisoner was his chum, Rollo Barrington.