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

by Percy F. Westerman

  CHAPTER XXX

  THE BARN BY THE RIVER

  THE distant light from the lantern glittered on the bayonets of thesentries, who, sheltering as best they might from the rain, pacedstolidly to and fro at the bleak cross-roads. Presently the gleamincreased in intensity, throwing distorted shadows upon the gauntpoplars of the road-side.

  "The lieutenant going the rounds," whispered Fuller. "Fancy the fooltaking a lantern with him. Wonder if he's afraid of the dark?"

  The quivering bayonets stiffened into immobility as the Hun officerapproached the now alert sentries. The fugitives could justdistinguish the guttural 'Wer da?' of the challenge, then anunintelligible exchange of words.

  The German officer and his escort moved on. The sentries, slopingarms, resumed their monotonous beat until the round had disappearedfrom sight and hearing.

  Seemingly interminable minutes passed, until just as midnight wasapproaching there came a low whistle through the darkness.

  "_Hier!_" replied one of the men.

  "All safe," rejoined the new-comer. "Yes, both of you. What a night!It's not fit for a dog to be abroad."

  "Now," whispered Barcroft at the expiration of another long tenminutes. "Ankle all right, old man?"

  "Quite," replied Fuller mendaciously. It was far from right, but theflight-lieutenant, game to the core, had no intention of letting hischums know that every time he set foot to the ground excruciatingpains racked him.

  Across the clayey soil, now almost knee-deep in mud, the daring trioliterally floundered, their immediate objective being the endmost ofa line of tall trees at a distance of fifty yards from thecross-roads.

  "Steady!" cautioned Billy as the _pave_, glistening even in thegloom, became visible. "I'll push on and see that the coast isclear. Back in a brace of shakes."

  The trees cast sombre shadows as the flight sub drew near; rain,closely approaching sleet, fell in a steady downpour; the wind hadresumed its doleful whine. Altogether the climatic conditions werehorrible.

  "This is absolutely the limit," thought Billy, until hischaracteristic optimism reasserted itself. "Perhaps it's as well,though. The Huns don't like sticking it and have departed. A finenight and our risks would be greatly increased."

  He pulled up with startling suddenness. Less than ten paces ahead ofhim was a German sentry. Sheltering under the lee of the outer mosttree the fellow was actually looking straight in the flight-sub'sdirection.

  For several seconds Barcroft stood stock still, debating whether tothrow himself upon the man or seek safety in flight. The sentry, hiscoat-collar turned up and his hands resting upon the muzzle of hisrifle, appeared as immobile as if fashioned of stone. He was anoldish man. The flight-sub was certain of that fact; more, he woreglasses.

  "A Landsturmer, and as blind as a bat," thought the young officer."There were three sentries, then; two have gone to the estaminet,the old boy is told to remain at his post. Now what's to be done?Something, or Fuller and Kirkwood will be forging ahead to find meand then there'll be damage done."

  Very cautiously Barcroft began to back away from the unsuspectingHun. The man coughed and hunched his shoulders still more. At thesound Billy again stood rigid, half expecting the sentry to slopearms and resume his beat. Nothing happening, the flight-sub withdrewas silently and stealthily as the slippery state of the _pave_permitted.

  "Well?" whispered the A.P.

  "Hist!" was Barcroft's only reply, then grasping his companions bytheir arms he led them back until they were well out of the sentry'shearing--even supposing that he possessed the normal use of hisears.

  "A Boche over there," reported Barcroft. "Nearly rammed himbroadside on. Blind as a bat; a regular septuagenarian. We'll make aslight detour and have another shot at crossing the road. It's opencountry beyond."

  This time the highway presented no difficulty, and with renewedvigour the trio struggled through the tenacious slime beyond.

  It was Barcroft's plan to keep to the fields as much as possible andfollow the road on a parallel course. It was infinitely hardergoing, but there was less risk of blundering upon a German outpost,while at intervals military motor-cars tore at break-neck speed overthe slippery _pave_, their iron-shod wheels slithering dangerouslyon the slimy stones.

  In almost total silence the dreary trek was maintained throughoutthe night, with the exception of two brief halts. Gamely Fuller"stuck it," although his ankle was getting worse under the strain.His left arm, too, was throbbing in spite of careful bandaging, yetno word of complaint came from his lips.

  At half past six in the morning Barcroft called a halt.

  "By dead reckoning I estimate we have covered twenty-five miles," heannounced. "That's not so dusty. It will be dawn in another hour.We'll have to find a place and lie doggo until to-night. How's thevictualling department, purser?"

  "I can spare a couple of biscuits apiece," declared the A.P. "And asmall tot of Schnapps. You'll have to wait till lunch time for thesausage tack. I'm counting on a three days' basis, you know."

  "Very good," replied Barcroft approvingly. "There is a hovel or barnahead. We'll make for that."

  The outbuilding consisted of stone walls and a tiled roof, thelatter in a state of dilapidation. The massive oaken door had beenpartly wrenched from its hinges. Within, the floor was of troddenearth mixed with lime. The place was absolutely bare.

  "Not even a bundle of straw," declared the A.P. "The roof leaks likea sieve. Still, it is better than nothing at all."

  "The only place to hide in is under the rafters," said theflight-sub. "Those two planks lying over the beams will serve thatpurpose should necessity occur. I would suggest that we keep watchby turns--two-hour tricks. That will give each man four consecutivehours' rest. I'll take first trick; you, Bobby, will relieve me andJohn will follow on. Now to bed, you roysterers."

  Fuller and the A.P. needed no second bidding. Rolling themselves intheir leather coats that fortunately acted as waterproofs, and withtheir heads pillowed on their padded flying helmets, they were soonsound asleep.

  Taking up his post by the open door--he made no attempt to close itlest the fact would be remarked by people living in thedistrict--Barcroft commenced his dreary vigil. Although bodily andmentally tired he knew that his comrades were more in need of restthan he. It was merely a case of "sticking it"; happy in theknowledge that the guerdon, in the shape of precious liberty, wastwenty-five miles nearer than it had been seven hours previously.

  Gradually, as the sullen dawn overcame the blackness of the night,the dreary landscape unfolded itself to the watcher's eyes--anexpanse of flat country broken here and there with isolatedbuildings. Within fifty yards of the barn where the fugitivessheltered was a fairly broad river, that described almost a completesemicircle around the building.

  "It's running north," soliloquised Billy. "Wonder if it's the Aa?Hanged if I can fix our position with certainty! We've crossed fiveor six railway lines, and half a dozen small streams. Hang it all!We can't be more than five or six miles from the frontier. By Jove,we are close to the road, though! Wonder if that bridge is guarded?"

  After a short interval a convoy of motor waggons thundered past. TheA.P., roused out of his sleep, sat up.

  "What's that--an air raid?" he asked drowsily.

  "No, only traffic," replied Billy. "No cause for alarm. You'veanother forty minutes yet."

  A little later on a barge, quite eighty feet in length, manned by acouple of Belgians and towed by a miserably gaunt horse, descendedthe river. As it rounded the bend the cumbersome craft ran aground.Its stern, being still afloat, was swung round by the force of thewind and jammed against the opposite bank.

  At the impact, slight though it was, the hatch of the after cabinwas thrown back and German soldiers scrambled on deck. One of themwas smoking a long pipe with a bent stem. He evidently regarded thesituation with philosophical stolidity, but not so his companion.The latter, cursing and reviling the luckless Belgians, danced likea madman on the sodden deck, till, losing his balanc
e, he subsidedheavily against the massive tiller.

  "Bring the horse back, you swine!" he shouted to the man on thebank. "There'll be trouble in store for you if the barge doesn'treach Wuestwezel by noon. Himmel! What will Herr Kapitan say?"

  Peering through a crack in the door Barcroft watched theproceedings. The German had mentioned Wuestwezel. Consulting the mapthe flight-sub found that it was a small Belgian village on thefrontier, where in pre-war days a customs station was situated.

  For the best part of an hour the men strove unavailingly toextricate the barge from the tenacious mud. Even the two Hunscondescended to assist in the operation but without the desiredresult. So interested was Barcroft in their frantic efforts that hequite overlooked the fact that it was time for Kirkwood to relievehim.

  "You'll have to go to Hulstweelde and get additional help, you lazydogs!" bellowed the infuriated Fritz. Then he said something to hiscompanion, but speaking in a lower tone the words wereunintelligible to the young British officer. Apparently there was anargument in progress as to which of the two Germans should accompanythe bargees, lest the latter took it into their heads to decamp.Finally all four trudged off, leaving the horse to nibble at thescanty pasture on the bank.

  "You rotter!" exclaimed Kirkwood. "It's gone nine. Why didn't youturn me out? And what are you so interested in? Come, now, you werevery keen on ordering me to turn in. Try this luxurious_salle-a-coucher_."

  "Before I do so," replied Barcroft pointing to the abandoned barge,"I'm going to do a bit of burgling if there's anything in the foodline. Keep a sharp look-out, old man--towards that bridgeespecially. I won't be long."

  It was a comparatively simple matter to board the deeply-ladencraft. Almost the whole of the space amidships was covered by hugetarpaulins, leaving a narrow gangway on either side. Making his wayaft Barcroft boldly descended the short ladder leading into thecabin--a somewhat spacious compartment with the small "cuddies" onbarges working British canals.

  "Black bread and cheese," said the flight-lieutenant to himself."Well, that's better than nothing. Bacon, too: useless when onecannot light a fire."

  He had no qualms about despoiling the Philistines. Before the foodwould be missed the barge would doubtless have resumed its voyage.When the theft was discovered the Germans would to a certainty blamethe men who came to their assistance.

  "Wonder what the cargo is?" continued Billy as he regained the deck.

  Unfastening one corner of the tarpaulin he made the discovery thatthe contents of the hold consisted of bales of old clothes packedtightly and labelled in large lettering with typical Germanthoroughness. They were commandeered Belgian civilian articles ofclothing, those of cotton being kept apart from those of wool. Theirdestination was Aachen (Aix-la-Chapelle) via Wuestwezel, Turnout andTongres, and at Wuestwezel they were to be transferred to therailway.

  "I think I see the move," thought Barcroft. "The stuff is to beconverted into cloth for the Huns. The cotton gear, perhaps, will beutilised in the manufacture of explosives, since they cannot get theraw material. By Jove! The very thing. I'll collar a bale of thisgear. We'll have to be in mufti of sorts when we cross the frontier,otherwise it means internment."

  A low whistle from the barn warned the flight-sub to a sense ofdanger. It was too late. Riding at a steady trot along the riverbank was a German officer.