Billy Barcroft, R.N.A.S Part 37

Taking up his post by the open door--he made no attempt to close it lest the fact would be remarked by people living in the district--Barcroft commenced his dreary vigil. Although bodily and mentally tired he knew that his comrades were more in need of rest than he. It was merely a case of "sticking it"; happy in the knowledge that the guerdon, in the shape of precious liberty, was twenty-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--an expanse of flat country broken here and there with isolated buildings. Within fifty yards of the barn where the fugitives sheltered was a fairly broad river, that described almost a complete semicircle 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 five or 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. The A.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've another forty minutes yet."

A little later on a barge, quite eighty feet in length, manned by a couple of Belgians and towed by a miserably gaunt horse, descended the river. As it rounded the bend the c.u.mbersome craft ran aground.

Its stern, being still afloat, was swung round by the force of the wind and jammed against the opposite bank.

At the impact, slight though it was, the hatch of the after cabin was thrown back and German soldiers scrambled on deck. One of them was smoking a long pipe with a bent stem. He evidently regarded the situation with philosophical stolidity, but not so his companion.

The latter, cursing and reviling the luckless Belgians, danced like a madman on the sodden deck, till, losing his balance, he subsided heavily against the ma.s.sive tiller.

"Bring the horse back, you swine!" he shouted to the man on the bank. "There'll be trouble in store for you if the barge doesn't reach Wuestwezel by noon. Himmel! What will Herr Kapitan say?"

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

For the best part of an hour the men strove unavailingly to extricate the barge from the tenacious mud. Even the two Huns condescended to a.s.sist in the operation but without the desired result. So interested was Barcroft in their frantic efforts that he quite overlooked the fact that it was time for Kirkwood to relieve him.

"You'll have to go to Hulstweelde and get additional help, you lazy dogs!" bellowed the infuriated Fritz. Then he said something to his companion, but speaking in a lower tone the words were unintelligible to the young British officer. Apparently there was an argument in progress as to which of the two Germans should accompany the bargees, lest the latter took it into their heads to decamp.

Finally all four trudged off, leaving the horse to nibble at the scanty pasture on the bank.

"You rotter!" exclaimed Kirkwood. "It's gone nine. Why didn't you turn me out? And what are you so interested in? Come, now, you were very keen on ordering me to turn in. Try this luxurious _salle--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 food line. Keep a sharp look-out, old man--towards that bridge especially. I won't be long."

It was a comparatively simple matter to board the deeply-laden craft. Almost the whole of the s.p.a.ce amidships was covered by huge tarpaulins, leaving a narrow gangway on either side. Making his way aft Barcroft boldly descended the short ladder leading into the cabin--a somewhat s.p.a.cious compartment with the small "cuddies" on barges working British ca.n.a.ls.

"Black bread and cheese," said the flight-lieutenant to himself.

"Well, that's better than nothing. Bacon, too: useless when one cannot light a fire."

He had no qualms about despoiling the Philistines. Before the food would be missed the barge would doubtless have resumed its voyage.

When the theft was discovered the Germans would to a certainty blame the men who came to their a.s.sistance.

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

Unfastening one corner of the tarpaulin he made the discovery that the contents of the hold consisted of bales of old clothes packed tightly and labelled in large lettering with typical German thoroughness. They were commandeered Belgian civilian articles of clothing, those of cotton being kept apart from those of wool. Their destination was Aachen (Aix-la-Chapelle) via Wuestwezel, Turnout and Tongres, and at Wuestwezel they were to be transferred to the railway.

"I think I see the move," thought Barcroft. "The stuff is to be converted into cloth for the Huns. The cotton gear, perhaps, will be utilised in the manufacture of explosives, since they cannot get the raw material. By Jove! The very thing. I'll collar a bale of this gear. 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 of danger. It was too late. Riding at a steady trot along the river bank was a German officer.

CHAPTER x.x.xI

THE FRONTIER

RESISTING his first impulse to rejoin his companions Barcroft crouched upon the unsavoury bundles and drew the corner of the painted canvas cover over his head. In breathless suspense he waited.

The clatter of the horse's hoofs ceased. He heard the rider dismount as his boots struck the ground.

"You there, Corporal Pfeil?" he shouted. "Donnerwetter! what do you mean by getting your charge in this fix?"

Receiving no reply the German began cursing volubly, at the same time expressing his belief that Pfeil and Co. were dead drunk in the barge cabin and that those rascally Belgians had given them the slip.

The fellow came on board. It required considerable effort on his part, for by the time he gained the deck he was puffing and blowing.

As he walked aft his spurs jangled on the metal deck. So close did he pa.s.s the hiding Barcroft that the latter could have grasped his ankles.

"Schweinhund!" exclaimed the major, for such was his rank. "I'll give Pfeil something to remember this business. Confound this rain!

I'll wait for him in the cabin."

He went below. Presently Barcroft could hear the rasping of a match, and the tantalising odours of tobacco from the after-cabin.

"Now I'm done," soliloquised the flight-sub. "The penalty for inquisitiveness, I suppose. Properly dished unless----"

Seized by a sudden inspiration Billy softly threw back the corner of the tarpaulin, crept aft and closed the sliding hatch of the cabin.

Before the astonished major could completely realise what was happening Barcroft had shut the ma.s.sive metal hasp and had secured it by wedging a belaying pin through the staple.

"Shout as hard as you like, my festive!" chuckled the flight-sub; then he, too, realised that he had "put his foot into it." Not only that--he had jeopardised the chances of his companions.

Throwing a sack of clothing to the bank Billy leapt ash.o.r.e, picked up the weighty bundle and made for the barn.

He found Fuller awake, for Kirkwood had informed him of the danger that threatened the explorer.

"We were just coming to your rescue," announced the A.P., "only we saw that you had boxed the Boche up. What's this bundle for, old bird?"

"For to-night's fancy dress ball," replied Barcroft. "A suit of mufti for each of us. We appear in the characters of the Continental knockabouts."

"What do you mean?" asked Fuller.

"Simply that we must make tracks at once, before Corporal Pfeil and Company return. Obviously we cannot hope to wander unmolested over the country if we stick to our flying kit, so with my characteristic regard for your welfare I have procured a stock of second-hand clothes for your inspection and choice. We'll push on for a couple of miles or so and then hide until it's dark. Then, with luck, over the frontier we jog, without running the risk of being interned by the Dutch authorities."

The contents of the bag were emptied upon the floor--a weird collection of musty and for the most part dirty and ragged clothes.

"Must we, or musty?" inquired Kirkwood sniffing disdainfully

"Both," replied Barcroft decidedly. "Look alive. Pity to have to sacrifice our coats, though. Mine cost me eighty-five shillings only a month ago. Keep your revolvers. They'll stow in the coat-pockets."

The change of raiment was speedily effected. The discarded gear, folded in as tight compa.s.s as possible, was stowed away on the beams of the barn.