The Day of Wrath Part 8

The girl sobbed, and left them. Probably the gruff Walloon was her lover.

Irene climbed first. Dalroy followed, raised the ladder noiselessly, and lowered the trap. His brow was seamed with foreboding, as, despite his desire to leave his companion in the care of the miller's household, he had an instinctive feeling that he was acting unwisely. Moreover, like every free man, he preferred to seek the open when in peril. Now he felt himself caged.

Therefore was he amazed when Irene laughed softly. "How readily you translate Browning into French!" she said.

He gazed at her in wonderment. Less than an hour ago she had fainted under the stress of hunger and dread, yet here was she talking as though they had met in the breakfast-room of an English country house. He would have said something, but the ancient mill trembled under the sudden crash of artillery. The roof creaked, the panes of gla.s.s in the dormer window rattled, and fragments of mortar fell from the walls. Unmindful, for the moment, of Leontine Joos's warning, Dalroy went to the window, which commanded a fine view of the town, river, and opposite heights.

The pontoon bridge was broken. Several pontoons were in splinters. The others were swinging with the current toward each bank. Six Belgian field-pieces had undone the night's labour, and a lively rat-tat of rifles, mixed with the stutter of machine guns, proved that the defenders were busy among the Germans trapped on the north bank. The heavier ordnance brought to the front by the enemy soon took up the challenge; troops occupying the town, which, for the most part, lies on the south bank, began to cover the efforts of the engineers, instantly renewed. History was being written in blood that morning on both sides of the Meuse. The splendid defence offered by a small Belgian force was thwarting the advance of the 9th German Army Corps. Similarly, the 10th and 7th were being held up at Verviers and on the direct road from Aix to Liege respectively. All this meant that General Leman, the heroic commander-in-chief at Liege, was given most precious time to garrison that strong fortress, construct wire entanglements, lay mines, and destroy roads and railways, which again meant that Von Emmich's sledge-hammer blows with three army corps failed to overwhelm Liege in accordance with the dastardly plan drawn up by the German staff.

Dalroy, though he might not realise the marvellous fact then, was in truth a spectator of a serious German defeat. Even in the conditions, he was aglow with admiration for the pluck of the Belgians in standing up so valiantly against the merciless might of Germany. The window was dust-laden as the outcome of earlier gun-fire, and he was actually on the point of opening it when Irene stopped him.

"Those men below may catch sight of you," she said.

He stepped back hurriedly. Two forage-carts had been brought into the yard, and preparations were being made to load them with oats and hay.

A truculent-looking sergeant actually lifted his eyes to that particular window. But he could not see through the dimmed panes, and was only estimating the mill's probable contents.

Dalroy laughed constrainedly. "You are the better soldier of the two,"

he said. "I nearly blundered. Still, I wish the window was open. I want to size up the chances of the Belgians. Those are bigger guns which are answering, and a duel between big guns and little ones can have only one result."

Seemingly, the German battery of quick-firers had located its opponents, because the din now became terrific. As though in response to Dalroy's desire, three panes of gla.s.s fell out owing to atmospheric concussion, and the watchers in the loft could follow with ease the central phase of the struggle. The noise of the battle was redoubled by the accident to the window, and the air-splitting snarl of the high-explosive sh.e.l.ls fired by the 5.9's in the effort to destroy the Belgian guns was specially deafening. That sound, more than any other, seemed to affect Irene's nerves. Involuntarily she clung to Dalroy's arm, and he, with no other intent than to rea.s.sure her, drew her trembling form close.

It was evident that the a.s.sailants were suffering heavy losses. Scores of men fell every few minutes among the bridge-builders, while casualties were frequent among the troops lining the quays. Events on the Belgian side of the river were not so marked; but even Irene could make out the precise moment when the defenders' fire slackened, and the line of pontoons began to reach out again toward the farther sh.o.r.e.

"Are the poor Belgians beaten, then?" she asked, with a tender sympathy which showed how lightly she estimated her own troubles in comparison with the agony of a whole nation.

"I think not," said Dalroy. "I imagine they have changed the position of some, at least, of their guns, and will knock that bridge to smithereens again just as soon as it nears completion."

The forage-carts rumbled out of the yard. Dalroy noticed that the soldiers wore linen covers over the somewhat showy _Pickel-hauben_, though the regiments he had seen in Aix-la-Chapelle swaggered through the streets in their ordinary helmets. This was another instance of German thoroughness. The invisibility of the gray-green uniform was not so patent when the _Pickel-haube_ lent its glint, but no sooner had the troops crossed the frontier than the linen cover was adjusted, and the ma.s.ses of men became almost merged in the browns and greens of the landscape.

The two were so absorbed in the drama being fought out before their eyes that they were quite startled by a series of knocks on the boarded floor. Dalroy crept to the trap door and listened. Then, during an interval between the salvoes of artillery, he heard Leontine's voice, "Monsieur! Mademoiselle!"

He pulled up the trap. Beneath stood Leontine, with a long pole in her hands. Beside her, on the floor, was a laden tray.

"I've brought you something to eat," she said. "Father thinks you had better remain there at present. The Germans say they will soon cross the river, as they intend taking Liege to-night."

Not until they had eaten some excellent rolls and b.u.t.ter, with boiled eggs, and drank two cups of hot coffee, did they realise how ravenously hungry they were. Then Dalroy persuaded Irene to lie down on a pile of sacks, and, amid all the racket of a fierce engagement, she slept the sleep of sheer exhaustion. Thus he was left on guard, as it were, and saw the pontoons once more demolished.

After that he, too, curled up against the wall and slept. The sound of rifle shots close at hand awoke him. His first care was for the girl, but she lay motionless. Then he looked out. There was renewed excitement in the main road, but only a few feet of it was visible from the attic.

A number of women and children ran past, all screaming, and evidently in a state of terror. Several houses in the town were on fire, and the smoke hung over the river in such clouds as to obscure the north bank.

Old Henri Joos came hurriedly into the yard. He was gesticulating wildly, and Dalroy heard a door bang as he vanished. Refusing to be penned up any longer without news of what was happening, Dalroy lowered the ladder, and, after ascertaining that Irene was still asleep, descended. He made his way to the kitchen, pausing only to find out whether or not it held any German soldiers.

Joos's shrill voice, raised in malediction of all Prussians, soon decided that fact. He spoke in the local _patois_, but straightway branched off into French interlarded with German when Dalroy appeared.

"Those hogs!" he almost screamed. "Those swine-dogs! They can't beat our brave boys of the 3rd Regiment, so what do you think they're doing now?

Murdering men, women, and children out of mere spite. The devils from h.e.l.l pretended that the townsfolk were shooting at them, so they began to stab, and shoot, and burn in all directions. The officers are worse than the men. Three came here in an automobile, and marked on the gate that the mill was not to be burnt--they want my grain, you see--and, as they were driving off again, young Jan Smit ran by. Poor lad, he was breathless with fear. They asked him if he had seen another car like theirs, but he could only stutter. One of them laughed, and said, 'I'll work a miracle, and cure him.' Then he whipped out a revolver and shot the boy dead. Some soldiers with badges on their arms saw this. One of them yelled, '_Man hat geschossen_' ('The people have been shooting'), though it was their own officer who fired, and he and the others threw little bombs into the nearest cottages, and squirted petrol in through the windows. Madame Didier, who has been bedridden for years, was burnt alive in that way. They have a regular corps of men for the job. Then, 'to punish the town,' as they said, they took twenty of our chief citizens, lined them up in the market-place, and fired volleys at them.

There was Dupont, and the Abbe Courvoisier, and Monsieur Philippe the notary, and--_ah, mon Dieu_, I don't know--all my old friends. The Prussian beasts will come here soon.--Wife! Leontine! how can I save you? They are devils--devils, I tell you--devils mad with drink and anger. A few scratches in chalk on our gate won't hold them back. They may be here any moment. You, mademoiselle, had better go with Leontine here and drown yourselves in the mill dam. Heaven help me, that is the only advice a father can give!"

Dalroy turned. Irene stood close behind. She knew when he left the garret, and had followed swiftly. She confessed afterwards that she thought he meant to carry out his self-denying project, and leave her.

"You are mistaken, Monsieur Joos," she said now, speaking with an aristocratic calm which had an immediate effect on the miller and his distraught womenfolk. "You do not know the German soldier. He is a machine that obeys orders. He will kill, or not kill, exactly as he is bidden. If your house has been excepted it is absolutely safe."

She was right. The mill was one of the places in Vise spared by German malice that day. A well-defined section of the little town was given up to murder, and loot, and fire, and rapine. Scenes were enacted which are indescribable. A brutal soldiery glutted its worst pa.s.sions on an unarmed and defenceless population. The hour was near when some hysterical folk would tell of the apparition of angels at Mons; but old Henri Joos was unquestionably right when he spoke of the presence of devils in Vise.

CHAPTER V

BILLETS

The miller's volcanic outburst seemed to have exhausted itself; he subsided to the oaken bench, leaned forward, elbows on knees, and thrust his clenched fists against his ears as though he would shut out the deafening clamour of the guns. This att.i.tude of dejection evidently alarmed Madame Joos. She forgot her own fears in solicitude for her husband. Bending over him, she patted his shoulder with a maternal hand, since every woman is at heart a mother--a mother first and essentially.

"Maybe the lady is right, Henri," she said tenderly. "Young as she is, she may understand these things better than countryfolk like us."

"Ah, Lise," he moaned, "you would have dropped dead had you seen poor Dupont. He wriggled for a long minute after he fell. And the Abbe, with his white hair! Some animal of a Prussian fired at his face."

"Don't talk about it," urged his wife. "It is bad for you to get so excited. Remember, the doctor warned you----"

"The doctor! Dr. Lafarge! A soldier hammered on the surgery door with the b.u.t.t of his rifle, and, when the doctor came out, twirled the rifle and stabbed him right through the body. I saw it. It was like a conjuring trick. I was giving an officer some figures about the contents of the mill. The doctor screamed, and clutched at the bayonet with both hands. And who do you think the murderer was?"

Madame Joos's healthy red cheeks had turned a ghastly yellow, but she contrived to stammer, "_Dieu!_ The poor doctor! But how should I know?"

"The barber, Karl Schwartz."

"Karl a soldier!"

"More, a sergeant. He lived and worked among us ten years--a spy. It was the doctor who got him fined for beating his wife. No wonder Monsieur Lafarge used to say there were too many Germans in Belgium. The officer I was talking to watched the whole thing. He was a fat man, and wore spectacles for writing. He lifted them, and screwed up his eyes, so, like a pig, to read the letters on the bra.s.s door-plate. '_Almachtig!_'

he said, grinning, 'a successful operation on a doctor by a patient.' I saw red. I felt in my pocket for a knife. I meant to rip open his paunch. Then one of our sh.e.l.ls burst near us, and he scuttled. The wind of the explosion knocked me over, so I came home."

The two, to some extent, were using the local _patois_; but their English hearers understood nearly every word, because these residents on the Belgian border mingle French, German, and a Low Dutch dialect almost indiscriminately. Dalroy at once endeavoured to divert the old man's thoughts. The ma.s.sacre which had been actually permitted, or even organised, in the town by daylight would probably develop into an orgy that night. Not one woman now, but three, required protection. He must evolve some definite plan which could be carried out during the day, because the hordes of cavalry pressing toward the Meuse would soon deplete Joos's mill; and when the place ceased to be of value to the commissariat the protecting order would almost certainly be revoked.

Moreover, Leontine Joos was young and fairly attractive.

In a word, Dalroy was beginning to understand the psychology of the German soldier in war-time.

"Let us think of the immediate future," he struck in boldly. "You have a wife and daughter to safeguard, Monsieur Joos, while I have Mademoiselle Beresford on my hands. Your mill is on the outskirts of the town. Is there no village to the west, somewhere out of the direct line, to which they could be taken for safety?"

"The west!" growled Joos, springing up again, "isn't that where these savages are going? That is the way to Liege. I asked the officer. He said they would be in Liege to-night, and in Paris in three weeks."

"Is it true that England has declared war?"

"So they say. But the Prussians laugh. You have no soldiers, they tell us, and their fleet is nearly as strong as yours. They think they have caught you napping, and that is why they are coming through Belgium.

Paris first, then the coast, and they've got you. For the love of Heaven, monsieur, is it true that you have no army?"

Dalroy was stung into putting Britain's case in the best possible light.

"Not only have we an army, every man of which is worth three Germans at a fair estimate; but if England has come into this war she will not cease fighting until Prussia grovels in the mud at her feet. How can you, a Belgian, doubt England's good faith? Hasn't England maintained your nation in freedom for eighty years?"