Billy Barcroft, R.N.A.S.: A Story of the Great War

by Percy F. Westerman

  CHAPTER XXVII

  FUGITIVES

  BOBBY KIRKWOOD was the first of the trio to recover his scatteredsenses. The impact had hurled him violently forward, and cannoningoff Barcroft's back he had slid more or less gently to the ground.The shock had forced Billy against the for'ard side of the coaming,well-nigh winding him, while at the same time his head came intocontact with the framework, thus causing him to see a most gorgeousgalaxy of stars.

  Well it was that the observer's body glanced off that of the pilot;otherwise the A.P. would have been instantly killed by theswiftly-revolving propeller. As it was he escaped by a hairbreadth.

  Fuller was not so fortunate. The sudden change of momentum had theresult of crushing his already wounded arm, besides giving him anasty blow on the forehead. He, too, began to wonder dimly whetherhe was witnessing a superb display of Brock's fireworks.

  As Kirkwood regained his feet the wreckage subsided still more. Thepropeller blades striking the ground were shattered to fragments,while the motor, released of its "load," began to race with terrificspeed.

  It was this nerve-racking sound that recalled Barcroft to a sense ofaction. Switching off the ignition he slid from the chassis andsurveyed the scene of desolation.

  "Come along, Fuller. Let's give you a hand!" he exclaimed.

  Awkwardly the flight-lieutenant descended from his precarious perch.The two stood in silent contemplation for some seconds. Verily theyrealised that they were very much "in the cart." Stranded in acountry overrun by hostile troops, far from the coast--always thepreliminary goal of a seaman who is making a bid for freedom--theirchance of seeing the inside of a German prison loomed large upontheir mental horizon.

  "Let's get rid of the old bus while she's warm," suggested Barcroft."There's no possible chance of getting her repaired sufficiently foreven a short flight, and it won't do to let the Huns patch her up."

  "Shoulders to the wheel, lads," exclaimed Fuller. "One of mine's abit groggy, but I feel like shifting a steam-roller with the other."

  By their united efforts the wrecked seaplane was toppled over intothe canal. The sudden contact of the cold water with the hotcylinders would, they knew, fracture the castings and make the motoruseless until complicated and costly repairs had been executed--evenif the Germans succeeded in fishing the debris out of the mud at thebottom of the canal.

  "Now we'll make tracks," decided Fuller. "Wonder there aren'tsoldiers on the spot already."

  "Yes, we'll make tracks," agreed Barcroft, "but not the ones you arekeen on leaving behind."

  He pointed to the muddy tow-path and to the comparatively dry groundon the other side of the row of poplars.

  "We'll walk backwards as far as the field," he continued. "TheBoches are bound to examine the footprints. If they see that theylead in the direction of the canal it may baffle 'em a bit. We mustlook sharp. I see the water falling an inch or so."

  "But the canal isn't tidal," remarked Kirkwood.

  "I agree," assented Billy. "The slight fall tells me that thenearest lock has been opened. That means a barge is on its way, and,much as I regret missing the sight of a Hun cargo boat bumping onthe wreckage of the old bus, prudence demands that we sheer off."

  Having walked backwards until they reached hard ground the trio setoff cautiously. The country consisted of tilled fields--the work ofimpressed Belgians, forced by their taskmasters to cultivate theground to provide foodstuffs for the Huns. The absence of hedgesgave the land an unfamiliar appearance as far as the three Britishofficers were concerned. What was of more pressing significancethere was a lack of efficient cover, the only means of securingshelter being by keeping close to the trees that bounded the fields.

  "There's a spinny of sorts in there," said Kirkwood, pointing to acircular cluster of bushes. "I vote we make for that and repairdamages."

  "And find ourselves surrounded by dozens of Boches," added Fuller."Naturally, once they found the wreckage of our machine they wouldsearch the nearest cover. We must make for those woods What say you,old bird?"

  "Yes, and remain till nightfall," added Barcroft.

  The wood was nearly a mile away, and presented an expanse ofleafless trees extending nearly twice that distance. The depth ofthe wood the fugitives had no means of discovering.

  For the last four hundred yards the three officers crawled andcrouched, for the ground was as flat and unbroken as a table-top.Away on the right could be discerned a red-tiled farmhouse, close toit a roofless barn, with the two charred gables standing up clearlyagainst the sky. Further away was a village of considerable size,but in all directions there were no signs of human beings or ofcattle.

  "Thank goodness we are here at last," exclaimed Fuller, throwinghimself upon the ground. "I don't want you fellows to think that I'mpiling it on, but my rotten ankle's played old Harry with me.Fractured it on a ringbolt on the 'Cursus' at Harwich," heexplained. "Had six weeks in hospital, and thought it got fixed upall right, but it isn't."

  "And your wound?" asked the A.P.

  "Pooh! Nothing," replied Fuller unconcernedly. "That's a simplematter. If this ankle crocks properly, I'll make you fellows carryon without me. I can hang out a couple of days until you're clearand then give myself up."

  "I'm jolly well sure you don't," said Barcroft firmly. "We threesink or swim together. Think you'll be able to swarm up that tree ifwe give you a hand?"

  The flight-lieutenant eyed the gnarled trunk somewhat dubiously.

  "Might," he replied. "I'll try, anyway. What's the idea?"

  "To lie close until it gets dark."

  "But why that tree? It's on the edge of the wood. Why not go furtherin, where it's ever so much thicker?"

  "Because if the Huns track us this far they'll naturally concludethat we've bolted for cover. They'll doubtless beat the interior ofthe wood and not pay much attention to the part nearest the canal.Besides, from this particular tree we can command a wide outlookwithout running much risk of detection."

  By the aid of their belts Barcroft and Kirkwood succeeded inassisting the wounded officer to gain the lowermost branch. Thenceit was a comparatively simple matter to climb another thirty feet.Here two huge limbs gave a tolerably secure perch, wide enough tohide the fugitives from the sight of any persons passing underneath,and yet able to afford an outlook over a wide expanse of opencountry.

  "Now let's look at that injured arm," said Barcroft, producing his"first aid" outfit. "Slip his coat off, Bobby; we don't want to cutthat away. H'm! clean hole, by Jove! Iodine and gauze, old man.That's capital. I've morphia tablets here; if you feel in much painI'll give you half a one and no more. Can't afford to have yourbrain dulled by morphia at this stage of the proceedings, John.',

  "That's easier," said Fuller with a sigh of relief. "Now if you'llbe so good as to unlace my boot I'll massage this low-down ankle."

  "You'll keep still," ordered Barcroft firmly, "We'll do the rubbingbusiness--if only to keep our blood circulating."

  "Did you save your map?" inquired Fuller.

  "I burnt mine."

  "Yes, I have mine," replied the flight-sub. "I make it about sixtymiles from the Dutch frontier--not much use making a shot for thecoast, I take it?"

  "Phew! Sixty miles--I did that distance once on a walking tour. Forpleasure, mark you," said Fuller. "Plenty to eat, a decent show toput up at every night, and quite fine weather and I had galled heelsby the end of the second day."

  "If we could sneak a captive balloon like you did at Sylt," remarkedthe A.P. "That would be top-hole."

  "A bit of sheer good luck," said Fuller reminiscently. "That sort ofdose isn't often repeated. Tressidar and I broke into a house andcollared suits of mufti. That won't do here, though. We were onDanish soil then; now we are in occupied Belgium. Caught and we areshot as spies, while the unfortunate civilians to whom the clothesbelong would be strung up for assisting us to escape, whether theydid it knowingly or otherwise. Time for more amateur burglar workwhen we're on Dutch soil. That's my opinion. You see, if we cr
ossthe frontier in uniform we'll be interned. I remember----"

  "Look!" ejaculated the A.P., pointing in the direction of thefarmhouse.

  Making their way across the fields were about a hundred people, menand women, herded together in rough military formation and escortedby grey-coated German infantry. The civilians were on their way toforced labour in the fields. Woe betide the luckless Belgian, maleor female, who showed the faintest resentment, or lagged behind.Blows and kicks were administered with impartial severity by thebrutal guards, while some did not hesitate to prod the helplesshuman cattle with the butt-ends of their rifles.

  "And yet there are worms in England who cry out about the dilutionof labour and the encroachment of the rights of the working man,"remarked Barcroft. "This is the sort of rights they'd get if theHuns once occupied even a portion of the Homeland."

  "Poor bounders!" exclaimed the A.P. as he fondled the holster of hisrevolver. "I'd like to put a shot through that red-faced swine'shead."

  "You'd only make it worse for us and for them," said Fuller.

  "True," assented Kirkwood, "but a fellow cannot disguise hisfeelings in such circumstances. One thing seems certain: the Bocheshaven't got wind of our presence."

  "Don't know so much about that," said Billy. "Unless I'm muchmistaken there's a patrol coming this way--and dogs, too, by Jove!"

  In less than ten minutes (it had taken the trio an hour to cover thesame distance) the patrol gained the field in which the Belgianswere literally slaving. Apparently the crowd of workers disturbedthe trail, for the bloodhounds, three massive-limbed, heavy-jowledcreatures, no longer kept their noses close to the ground andfollowed the fugitives' track without the slightest deviation.Instead they wandered round in circles, growling rather than baying,and showing every indication of having lost the scent.

  Followed a heated controversy between the Huns with the dogs and theGermans guarding the field labourers, until the latter, orderingtheir charges to assemble, marched them into the field nextadjoining and nearer to the canal. Four Belgians, however, remained.These, after what was evidently a homily as to their behaviour,followed the patrol with the bloodhounds.

  The scent once lost took some time to pick up again, but eventuallyone of the animals stopped at the foot of the tree in which thefugitives were hiding and set up a succession of low, deep cries.The other dogs, apparently on a different trail, disappeared in thewood, their keepers having all their work cut out to hold them inleash.

  "One at least of the English swine is up this tree, Max," said acorporal, addressing one of the two privates with him. "That iscertain. The others have gone elsewhere. I wonder that they had thesense to separate."

  "We'll make sure of this one," said Max grimly.

  "Ach! That is so," agreed the corporal. "Here, Karl, you speak thisoutlandish language. Tell this fellow to climb and see if theEnglishman is there."

  Turning to the Belgian who had been compelled to remain with them,Karl spoke to him in Flemish. Being ignorant of the Walloon languageBarcroft was unable to understand his reply.

  "The fool says he is hungry and has not enough strength to climb,"said Karl, translating for the primary benefit of the corporal andfor the secondary information of Billy Barcroft.

  "Tell him," replied the Hun, "that he must go--and be quick aboutit. If he succeeds in finding the Englishman, then I will inform thecommandant and see that the fellow gets a double ration to-night.That ought to satisfy his hunger."

  Lying at full length upon the sturdy branches the three airmen coulddistinctly hear the rasping of the Belgian's boots against the barkand the short sharp gasps that betokened a man obviously out ofcondition.

  The A.P. glanced at Barcroft and pointed to his revolver. The lookindicated clearly enough what he meant. There were but threeGermans. There were also three determined Britons all armed withrevolvers. It would be an easy matter to settle the hash of the Hunsand trust to flight before the rest of the patrol, alarmed by theshots, could arrive upon the scene.

  But the flight-sub shook his head. The risk was too great. Reprisalswould automatically follow upon the luckless peasants, who werebound to be regarded as accomplices in the attack upon the threesoldiers.

  Presently a pair of hands gripped the rough bark of the bough onwhich Barcroft was lying--long, lean, gnarled fingers almostclaw-like in appearance. The next instant the Belgian's head andshoulders appeared above the rounded edge of the bough.

  For a brief second Billy's eyes met those of the climber. Thefugitives were discovered.