CHAPTER XX
The Way Out
"So, you cat with nine lives, we've to thank you for this beautifulfix!" remarked Captain Nicholson after he had greeted his companionsin misfortune.
"Don't know about that, sir," replied the bomber. "If I hadn't beennippy, those Huns would have plugged the lot of you, and more'nlikely they would have got away. What were those coves doing withthe pick and shovel, sir, if they didn't know there was a chance ofgetting out that way?"
"That passage is closed, at any rate," decided Captain Nicholson,glancing in the direction of the mound of debris and the displacedgirders. "M'Kane and I have explored the entrance, There's been abig fall. The supplementary shoots are also choked. We followed alevel working for nearly a hundred yards. It leads nowhere. Fritznever had time to finish it. Look here, this torch won't hold outfor ever. The battery's running down. How's Selwyn?"
"Only suffering from shock, sir," replied Malcolm.
"All right; you can do nothing more so far as he is concerned,"decided the officer. "We'll make a thorough search of thesesleeping-quarters, and see if we can find any candles. Knowing thesystematic thoroughness of Fritz, I guess he's taken precautions inthe event of the electric light going out. By Jove," he added, asthe dug-out trembled violently, "there's some strafing going onoutside!"
A search resulted in the discovery of several oillamps and packetsof candles. There was also food in considerable quantities and winein bottles.
"I'd swop all that fizz for a pannikin of tea," declared Joliffe.
"You're never satisfied, chum," remarked M'Turk, deftly knocking offthe neck of a bottle and taking a draught.
"If you had what I've got you'd be satisfied," retorted the bomber."I don't mind telling you now. Captain can't order me back out ofit, can you, sir?"
"Well, what have you got?" enquired Nicholson.
"Splinter of shell in me shoulder--copped that last night along withthe ration-party, sir; then this crack on the skull from thattin-pot Boche; and now I've copped it in both legs--and still I'mnot knocked out."
The men sat down to make a meal. Selwyn, under the reviving effectof a drink of wine, had opened his eyes. Although considerablyshaken, he was otherwise unhurt.
Captain Nicholson's story of what had occurred threw little lightupon the mystery. He remembered the explosion; he was conscious ofbeing hurled high in the air and of falling on top of the prostratebody of one of his men. The first to recover, he waited until M'Kaneregained consciousness, and, having placed M'Turk and Selwyn in areclining position, set off to find an egress and bring assistance.
At the thirtieth step they were stopped by a solid mass of rubblethat was only prevented from falling upon them by the fact that twomassive timbers had dropped across the tunnel. To tamper with themmeant certain disaster. Retracing their way to the main dug-out,they found a hitherto overlooked passage running at right angles tothe longer walls. As the Captain had previously reported, it was ablind alley.
"Although I believe that the Hun's yarn about fifty tons of stuff isall moonshine," continued Nicholson, "I can't see how one bomb wouldraise Cain like this. It's just possible that there was a smallquantity of explosives in the place--sufficient to bring the roofdown and to give us a pretty shaking up."
The imprisoned men ate, drank, and talked--all except Selwyn, whocomplained of a violent headache and dizziness. Captain Nicholsonlet them carry on at their leisure. As long as they kept theirspirits up there was little cause for anxiety. The great thing wasto guard against depression.
"Now then, boys!" he exclaimed at length. "Heaven helps those whohelp themselves--how about it? Are we going to sit here until we aredug out or are we going to extricate ourselves?"
"Win off our own bat, sir," replied M'Turk.
"That's the sort," rejoined his officer. "Now, look here. Do any ofyou fellows remember if there were other dug-outs close to this?"
"There was an entrance about twenty yards to the left of this one,sir," said Malcolm. "I noticed that it was clear, for when I came upour fellows were hauling out a batch of Huns."
"That's our direction," decided Captain Nicholson. "It's not muchuse trying to open up the tunnel at which the Boches were workingwhen we surprised them. It leads towards Messines Ridge, and I guessthere's not much tunnelling left there. I should imagine they wereignorant of the actual results of the mine, or they would have givenit up as a bad job."
Armed with mattocks and picks, Malcolm, M'Turk, and M'Kane attackedthe side of the entrance-tunnel at a spot a few yards beneath thechoke. The ground was clayey and easy to work, but in the absence ofshoring material there was a grave risk of the new tunnel caving in.At the end of an hour's strenuous activity a tunnel about twelvefeet long, and sufficiently large to enable a man to crawl along,had been excavated.
"Any luck?" enquired Captain Nicholson for the twentieth time duringthat hour.
"No, sir," replied Malcolm, who was working at the head of the sapand cautiously dislodging soil, which, in turn, was picked up byM'Turk and passed out so as not to obstruct the portion of thetunnel already dug.
The ground vibrated under the impact of a heavy shell thirty orforty feet overhead. Although the bombardment had decreased inviolence the Huns were still sending heavy stuff across at irregularintervals.
"Hanged if I like this job," soliloquized Malcolm. "I thought thewhole show would collapse that time. By Jove, something's going!"
Making a vain attempt to back out of the confined space, Carr feltthe ground giving way beneath his bent legs.
"What's up, Digger?" enquired M'Turk, hearing his companion'sexclamation.
Without waiting for an answer M'Turk crawled to within arm's lengthof the lad and grasped him by the arm. As he did so the subsidenceincreased, and, amidst a shower of soil, the two riflemen foundthemselves falling through the air.
Both uttered an exclamation of horrified surprise, not knowing atthat stage if they were hurtling into a deep abyss to be dashed topieces at the bottom. Anticipating the worst, they were agreeablyrelieved to find that they had dropped only ten or twelve feet, andhad alighted upon a pile of soft material that proved to be a stackof folded blankets.
"It's all right, sir," shouted Malcolm.
"Where are you?" enquired Captain Nicholson, crawling cautiouslyalong the newly-excavated gallery.
"That's more than I can say, sir," replied Carr. "We're in the darkabsolutely."
Having tested the ground at the edge of the hole, Captain Nicholsonflashed his torch into the dug-out into which the two riflemen hadfallen.
"By Jove," he exclaimed, "you've found a way out! I won't join youjust yet. Stand by while I drop some candles and matches; then havea look round and report. See if there's a ladder available."
The torch was switched off and the two riflemen waited in utterdarkness.
"I'm beginning to fancy I'm a blessed mole!" remarked M'Turk. "TwiceI've been buried in our own dug-out. First time wasn't much to speakof; but Plug Street--ugh! For five mortal hours I was pinned down,the Huns strafing all the time, and the water rising up through thedirt that covered me up to my chin. And, as if I hadn't had enough,one of the boys who were digging me out must needs drive a pickthrough my calf. After all," he added, "it was worth it. I got sixmonths in Blighty, and haven't had the same luck since. I'd givefive pounds for old Fortyscrew's buckshie. Guess he's having a fairholiday by now."
"Fortescue was hit only quite recently," said Malcolm. "I met him onmy way up."
"D'ye know we've been nearly fifteen hours in this warren?" askedM'Turk. "I thought not! And with reasonable luck a man can be hitand find himself in Blighty within twelve hours. Hallo, here's theCaptain!"
The torch was flashed upon the two men and a cloth in which were twocandles and a box of matches dropped into the circle of light.
"Look alive!" was the officer's exhortation. "It's quite time webroke through. Does the air seem pure? No petrol fumes hangingaround, for instance?"
"Now you come t
o mention it, sir," replied M'Turk, "it does hum abit, although it's not petrol. Since I've been out here I've becomea Sort of authority on stinks."
"It's the fumes of high-explosive," declared Malcolm.
"Right you are," rejoined his companion, as he struck a match andlit the candles. "By gum, this dug-out's copped it."
In the dim light the place looked a regular shambles. The dug-outwas larger than the one in which they had been trapped, but thefittings were of a plainer and more substantial nature. Evidently ithad been the underground quarters of some of the Prussian rank andfile, for three sides of the place consisted of four tiers ofbed-boxes. The fourth, except for a doorway, was taken up with alarge arms-rack capable of holding a couple of hundred rifles andbayonets. Most of the floor space was occupied by long trestletables, while in one corner was the large stack of blankets andbedding upon which Malcolm and M'Turk had fallen.
Although there was no shattered woodwork, everything pointed to aviolent disturbance in the enclosed space. Tables and stools hadbeen overthrown; the floor in front of the arms-rack was coveredwith weapons hurled from their stands. Broken bottles, plates, andearthenware littered the lime-trodden floor.
Against the doorway were four huge Prussians, leaning apatheticallyagainst the timbered supports of the arms-rack. Two of them, theireyes fixed upon the New Zealanders, had their arms folded on theirbroad chests. The others were steadying themselves by their rifles,to which the bayonets were fixed.
Without any weapons, either of offence or defence, for they had lefttheir rifles in the other dug-out, Malcolm and M'Turk were at adecided disadvantage; but the odds did not deter them.
"Bomb 'em out of it!" shouted M'Turk, swinging a purely imaginarymissile. "Hands up, Fritz!"
The Huns stirred not a muscle.
"What's the fuss?" sang out Captain Nicholson.
"Four Boches, sir," replied Malcolm.
In a trice the Captain dropped from the tunnel into the dug-out.With his revolver ready for instant action he rejoined his two men,while M'Kane, preceded by his rifle, followed his superior officer'sexample.
"Hands up!" ordered Captain Nicholson, levelling his revolver at thehead of one of the Huns at a range of less than ten yards. TheBoche's eyes stared unblinkingly at the muzzle of the weapon, whilehis companions showed no signs of shaking off their apathy.
"By gum, sir," exclaimed M'Turk, "I believe they've been done in!"
Holding the candle above his head, the rifleman strode over thelittered floor and gripped one of the Prussians by the shoulder.Like a log the heavy body toppled forward and fell on its face.
"Stone dead, sir," replied M'Turk. "Every man jack of 'em. And thereare more of them over there."
Curiosity prompted Captain Nicholson to examine the corpses. Not onebore the trace of a wound. In addition to the four by the doorwaysixteen lay partly hidden by the overturned tables and chairs.Without a mark to show how they had been killed, all the men weredead. Some had been struck down in the act of writing. One man stillheld a pencil firmly clenched in his hand. Others were eating whendeath overtook them suddenly and painlessly.
"Killed by concussion when the mine went up," suggested M'Kane.
"More likely by one of our heavy shells," declared CaptainNicholson. "If your theory is correct, how do you account for thefact that those staff officers in the next dug-out came offscot-free until Joliffe thought fit to bring trouble on them and us?No, stay where you are, Joliffe!" he exclaimed, as the bomber'svoice was heard shouting his intention of "barracking in". "We'llcome back and fetch the pair of you when we've found a way out. Now,boys, let's see how the land lies."
Passing through the doorway and ascending a flight of steps theparty reached a wrecked dug-out that bore unmistakable testimony tothe tremendous powers of devastation of a British 14-inch shell. Themissile had penetrated twenty feet of earth and concrete, closingthe entrance to the open air, and half-filling the place withdebris. A funnel-like shaft, through which the sky was visible, wasnow the only means of communication with the open.
"We're not out of the wood yet, boys," remarked Captain Nicholson,surveying the scene of destruction, "but we're getting on."
As he spoke, the orifice was darkened, and a gruff voice from aboveexclaimed, to the accompaniment of a string of highlyuncomplimentary ejaculations:
"Now then, you, up you come or I'll blow you to blazes!"
"Please don't stand there calling us names," expostulated CaptainNicholson affably. "Rather skip off and bring a rope."
A Lively Bit of the Front: A Tale of the New Zealand Rifles on the Western Front Page 20
