Part 6

Burton rushed to the window. The shutters were now in flames. Wrenching away the bars, he thrust his head through the shattered glass, and joyfully hailed the khaki-clad Lancers who had reined up below. There was not a living German to be seen. The greensward and the trampled parterres were strewn with prostrate forms. And with a rattle and clank a battery of horse artillery galloped upon the scene.

"We are saved, madame!" cried Burton, turning back into the room. "Our Lancers have put the Germans to flight."

"Dieu merci!" murmured the lady, falling on her knees at the bedside.

"Ah, les braves Anglais!" said the marquis, grasping Burton's right hand with his left, and jerking his arm up and down like a pump handle.

They looked at old Pierre, who had raised himself, and was feebly shouting: "Vivent les Anglais! Vive monsieur le sourd-muet!"

Then, to Burton's amazement, he cracked his fingers, and laughed like a lunatic.

"The poor fellow's brain is turned," said the marquis.

"No, no, monsieur, I am not crazy. Ah, ah! it was a trick to play!"

"What are you raving about, mon vieux?" asked the marquis.

"The smoke, monsieur! The paper! I gave the spy Schwikkard a foretaste. Ha! Surely he believed his last hour was come. See, monsieur, I burnt some brown paper in the stove under his nose. He would fire the chateau! Eh bien! assuredly he believed it was already on fire. It was drole, monsieur--fine trick, n'est-ce pas?"

"Schwikkard is our prisoner, without doubt," said Burton to the marquis. "Shall we untie him?"

At this moment entered Major Colpus of the Lancers, stepping gingerly over the wreck of door and furniture.

"A pretty mess they have made of it," he said, with double intent. "You are Burton?"

"That's my name."

"Captain Rolfe told us we should catch a half-regiment of hussars if we hurried. He rather expected you would be a prisoner. We got to the village just as some of the Germans were hauling away one Boitelet, the village smith, it appears. They left him to us, and he gave us an inkling that you were concerned in the rumpus here. The Germans have skedaddled; we have a few prisoners below. You have had a whack or two, I see."

"I wasn't aware of it," said Burton, looking with surprise at dark stains on his blouse. "The marquis and his man are both wounded."

"Glad to meet you, monsieur," said the officer, who, with British shyness, had affected to ignore the presence of all but Burton. Now, however, he greeted monsieur and madame courteously, knelt down and rendered capable first-aid to the marquis and Pierre, and seeing at a glance that the man in bed was very ill, dispatched Burton for the regimental medico.

It was not until the doctor was engaged with his patients that Burton found an opportunity of releasing Major Schwikkard, and handing him as a prisoner to the British officer. He was scarcely recognisable. The long vigil, with the dread of being roasted by his own instructions, had broken him both in body and mind. He looked years older. His cheeks had fallen in, his whole frame shook, and his hair was patched with white. When Major Colpus addressed him cheerily, he stammered, tried to complete a sentence, and burst into tears.

"Poor wretch!" the major murmured. "Doctor, here's another patient for you. Now, Mr. Burton, come and tell me all that has happened."

"I want to get back to my aeroplane," protested Burton.

"No hurry for that. Your friend, the smith, has borrowed a spare mount, and ridden off to the town to fetch something or other for it. I shan't let you off."

Burton growled that there was not much to tell, and turned to take his leave of the old marquis and his wife. In their over-flowing emotion they could hardly speak.

"God bless you, monsieur!" said the marquise, brokenly. "You have saved us all. Your doctor says that my son will recover. Take a mother's thanks, and wear this, monsieur. May the good God preserve you!"

She took from her neck a chain bearing a richly jewelled cross, and pressed it into Burton's hand. He bade them good-bye.

"Adieu, monsieur!" said old Pierre, as Burton shook hands with him. "The wound--it is nothing. Your good doctor has stitched it up. I was not born to be killed by a Bosche. Ah, ca! It was a good trick, monsieur, n'est-ce pas?"

BORROWED PLUMES

I

The tramp steamer _Elpinike_, bound from the Peiraeus to the island of Tenedos with supplies for the Allied forces, was thrashing its way northwards through the blue waters of the AEgean Sea. It was a warm, sunny day; the Levantine crew lolled on the bulwarks, and a mixed group of passengers was gathered on the after-deck. Three or four French officers, smoking cigarettes, basked on deck-chairs; several men, whose nationality it were hard to determine, leant in picturesque attitudes against the wall of the deck-house; and a couple of Englishmen, wearing overalls and low cloth caps, and with blackened briar pipes between their lips, sat side by side on the third of the steps leading to the bridge. They eyed with faint amusement the centre of the group, a very fat man sucking a very fat cigar, who lay back in his creaking deck-chair and discoursed at large.

Mr. Achilles Christopoulos, as he had announced himself to his fellow-passengers, was the agent of the charterers of the vessel. He was, he assured them, a very busy man. He had broad, bulging, swarthy cheeks, a multiple chin, and a heavier moustache than is common among his compatriots; for Mr. Christopoulos was, by his own account, a Greek of Greeks. His English was fluent, with little oddities of accent and pronunciation; and after every few words he drew deep, audible gasps for breath.

"Yes, zhentlemen," said Mr. Christopoulos, waving his cigar towards the Englishmen and Frenchmen, "my country will remain neutral. Of war we have had enough; it is time we had a rest. And tell me, why should we pull your chestnuts out of ze fire? Tell me zat? What did you do to help us against ze Turks twenty years ago? Nozink. And two years ago? Nozink. We are nozink to you. We wait; zat is our policy; and when ze time comes, why, zen we show ze world we do not forget our history."

"Ah, bah!" exclaimed one of the Frenchmen, flinging a half-smoked cigarette into the sea. "You are egoist, monsieur. Your history--vat? I zink of Pericles; I zink of your patriots since a hundred years. Ah! zat vas not zeir policy."

"But ze time has changed, monsieur. Pericles, he is dead. Ze German Emperor, he is alive."

"Conspuez-le!" said the Frenchman.

Mr. Christopoulos smiled.

"Consider with calmness, zhentlemen," he said, as though appealing from the excitable Frenchmen to the more stolid English. "Ze Turk, with ze German Emperor at ze back, is to-day a new man. Ze King of ze Hellenes knows ze power of Germany. He runs no risks. We have men who are ignorant, who do not zink. Zey make a fuss, cry for war; ze king knows it is foolish, and holds tight ze reins. Greece owes much to Germany, and shall owe more."

The French officers burst into angry declamation. The Englishmen, who had taken no part in the conversation, listened for a few minutes longer, then got up and strolled along the deck.

"Talks too much, Teddy," said one of them.

"Let 'em talk," replied the other.

Edward Burton, of the Flying Corps, after several months' exhausting service in France, had been invalided home. On reporting himself at headquarters after his convalescence, he was ordered to the Dardanelles. Taking a P. and O. steamer for Alexandria, he had met on board an old friend, Dick Hunter, who had recently come into the corps from a line regiment, as observer. The supply ship in which they took passage at Alexandria had put into Athens with a broken shaft, and to save time they had joined the _Elpinike_ at the moment of her leaving port.

The _Elpinike_ was very old, very dirty, very smelly, and very slow, plodding along at seven or eight knots. The two airmen, accustomed to easy and rapid flights, were thoroughly weary of the voyage by the time the vessel reached harbour. They found themselves there in the midst of intense activity, reminding Burton of the bustle and orderly confusion at the bases in France. They reported themselves at headquarters, only to learn that, pending the arrival of new machines from England, there was no seaplane ready for them, and they had to resign themselves to kicking their heels for a time. There was, however, plenty to interest them. Troops--British, French, and Colonial--were continually arriving from Egypt and departing on transports for the Dardanelles. Warships came and went; airmen were present who had reconnoitred for the fleet in the attacks on the forts, and to discover the strength of the Turks on both sides of the strait. These retailed their experiences for the benefit of their comrades newly arrived, who grew more and more eager to set to work.

Now and then they ran up against Mr. Christopoulos, who was quartered near them, and found it a little difficult to shake off that garrulous man of business. He showed a disposition, they thought, to presume on the acquaintance made during the voyage from the Peiraeus. As a rule they gave only perfunctory acknowledgments of his greetings; sometimes they were unable to escape him.

"You are still idle, zhentlemen?" he said one day. "Zere is a shortage of aircraft, I hear. How provoking!"

"It gives us time to get acclimatised," said Burton.

"Zat is true. It is very fine air. You like ze wine of ze country? It is very fine. You know, of course, zat here came ze fleet from my country for ze siege of Troy. Ah! we Greeks were ten years taking Troy, and I zink you will be ten years taking Constantinople."

"Let's hope not," said Burton. "Your ancestors hadn't aeroplanes, you see. Our planes will be even more useful than the Wooden Horse."

"Perhaps. And when do you expect to get to work?"

"All in good time."

"You will go to Enos, perhaps?"

"We shall go wherever we are sent. You'll go back to Athens in the _Elpinike_ to-morrow, I suppose?"

"No. My business keeps me here. I am a very busy man."

He went on to describe some of his activities, and the Englishmen, breaking away at last, made but a cool response to his genial "Au revoir, zhentlemen."

It was ten days before their seaplane arrived. The engine required very little tuning up. They made a few trial trips, to accustom themselves to the atmospheric conditions of the AEgean Sea, and looked forward to an early call to action.

On returning to their quarters one night, they were surprised to see a British sentry at the door of the house where Mr. Christopoulos lodged.

"What's up?" asked Hunter, stopping.

"Got orders to guard this house, sir," replied the man.

"What for?"

"A party of us was sent to arrest the chap that lives here, sir--the fat Greek Christopoulos. Don't know what he's been doing; swindling somebody, perhaps."

"Did you get him?"

"No, sir. He can't be found."

They passed on, and, after changing, went to the restaurant for their evening meal. There they learnt that Mr. Christopoulos was suspected of spying. It appeared that he must have got wind of the order for his arrest, and had decamped; but his disappearance was a mystery, for no vessel had left the island since the morning, with the exception of a small country sailing-boat. It was conjectured that he had left on one of the small craft engaged in bringing provisions to the base; but though several of these had been overhauled at sea by fast despatch boats, no trace of the fugitive was discovered.

Two days later the airmen were summoned to headquarters.

"Your machine is in order?" asked the staff-officer.

"Yes, sir--ready for anything," Burton replied.

"Then you'll ship on board the ----." He named a cruiser lying in the harbour. "There are rumours of a large Turkish concentration at Keshan. You'll find out if they are true. The cruiser will take you up to the Gulf of Saros, and you will start your flight from the neighbourhood of the coast somewhere south of Enos. The cruiser will await your return."

They hurried down to the harbour. The seaplane was slung on board the cruiser, which steamed away northward, through the huge armada of British and French war-vessels, transports, and supply ships that thronged the sea. It was an open secret that the preparations for a combined attack by land and sea were far advanced. They heard the distant boom of heavy guns, which grew louder and more continuous as they neared the mouth of the strait. When they opened up the headland of Suvla Burun the course was altered a few points to the east, and another hour's steaming across the Gulf of Saros found them some five miles from the coast, off Kurukli. Here the cruiser hove-to, and the seaplane was slung out.

The captain had already given the airmen their bearings. North-west lay Enos and the river Maritza, with the Bulgarian port of Dedeagatch beyond. Keshan, their objective, was to the north-east, about thirty miles distant from the coast.

"I will cruise about for four or five hours," said the captain, "keeping well out to sea, out of range of the batteries in the Bulair lines yonder." He pointed due east to the neck of the Gallipoli peninsula. "You have plenty of petrol?"

"Enough for the job," replied Burton.

"Well, good luck to you. 'Ware shrapnel."

They slipped over the side into their places. Burton started the engine, and, after skimming the surface for a few moments, the seaplane rose like a bird and soared away, ever higher, towards the coast northward.

II

The sky was clear, the air calm--an ideal day for airmen. In a few minutes they passed over the rocky and precipitous line of the coast and pursued their flight inland. Hunter, closely scanning the country beneath through his glasses, presently exclaimed, "A gun!" and shortly afterwards, "A battery!" The guns were cleverly concealed from observation from the sea, behind a cliff, marked by a clump of the dense brushwood that flourishes on the shores of the Gulf of Saros. Hunter expected a shot or two from the gunners, but they made no sign, probably unwilling to reveal their position to the warships in the bay. They were saving their shot for more serious work than firing at seaplanes.

Northward they saw a river flowing east and west. Passing over a village--Kiskapan, according to the map--they crossed the river almost at right angles with its course, and beyond a range of low hills discovered their objective about five miles away. They had travelled some thirty-five miles by dead reckoning, which corresponded with the estimated distance from the cruiser.

Before they obtained a full view of Keshan itself they perceived evidences of a considerable concentration of troops. At several points around the town there were extensive encampments. Clouds of dust to the north, east, and north-east betrayed the movements of troops or convoys. And when they were still about two miles from the town they heard the familiar rattle of machine-guns and the long crackle of rifle fire. But they were too high up to feel any anxiety, and while Burton wheeled round and round in an extensive circle, Hunter busily plotted out on his map the positions of the camps, and made notes of the directions of the movements, the estimated number of the battalions, and the nature of their arms.

After a while Burton began gradually to drop, in order to give Hunter a chance of recognising gun emplacements. At about two thousand feet the enemy opened fire. White and creamy puffs of shrapnel floated and spread in the air. A shell burst some distance beneath them, another above them, and soon the machine was cleaving its way through a thin cloud of pungent smoke. It appeared that at least six guns were at work.

"Better get out of this," shouted Hunter. "I've got about enough information."

"We'll go a little farther north," replied Burton, "to see if any reinforcements are coming up towards Keshan."

"All right, but go a bit higher; I heard two or three smacks on the planes just now."

Rising a little higher, Burton swept round to the north. In a minute or two Hunter was able to see that the hill track from Rodosto was choked with transport of all kinds. Right and left, every possible route from Constantinople and Adrianople was equally congested. It was clear that a vast army was being concentrated within striking distance of Gallipoli, and on the flank of any force moving eastward from Enos or any other point of disembarkation.

Burton then headed west towards the Maritza, intending to return by way of Enos and discover, if possible, what force the Turks had available for the defence of that place. They were passing somewhat to the north of Keshan, to keep out of the way of the batteries, when Hunter suddenly caught sight of an object like a large bird low down in the sky on their left hand. A few moments' scrutiny through his glasses confirmed the suspicions which had seized him on the instant.

"An aviatik, coming our way," he called.

"Won't catch us," responded Burton with a smile.

"Stay and fight it?"

"It's tempting, but we mustn't. It won't do to run risks when our job's to collect information."

Hunter acquiesced with a sigh. Burton shifted his course a point or two to the west, so as to run nearly parallel with the enemy's aeroplane.

A moment or two later he gave a start of alarm.

"What's the matter?" asked Hunter.

"Afraid there's a leak. The petrol gauge is falling faster than it ought. They must have knocked a hole in the tank. See if you can find it."

Hunter twisted in his seat, bent over, and began to examine the tank.

"Can't find any leak," he said presently. "If there's one, it's out of reach. How's the gauge?"

"At this rate we shall be done in another ten minutes."

"Whew! How much farther to go?"

"At least twenty miles, perhaps more. I wish we had come straight. There's absolutely no chance of getting back before the petrol gives out. Where's the enemy?"

"Still on our port side, going strong. It looks as if she means to chase us, thinking we're running away. We shall have to fight now, shan't we?"

"Yes. We're bound to come down in a few minutes, and if we don't tackle her at once it's all up with us. How far is she off?"

"About a couple of miles, I think, and about the same height. Her course is between us and Enos, worse luck!"

"Wish we had a machine-gun! I'll come round; take a shot when we're within range, and for goodness' sake cripple her."

He brought the seaplane round in an easy curve, at the same time climbing to get above the enemy. His eye was all the time on the rapidly falling gauge. The aviatik held on its course for a little, then wheeled to the south-west, as if to cut the seaplane off. It was clear that the enemy airmen had no wish to avoid a fight.

Burton's wheeling movement had now made his course almost due east, so that the two machines were rushing obliquely towards each other at the rate of about a hundred miles an hour. When they crossed, Burton was slightly ahead of the enemy, and, to his surprise, somewhat lower. At almost the same moment Hunter and the enemy's observer opened fire with their rifles, but each was handicapped by the fact that he was firing from right to left, and no damage seemed to have been done on either side. As soon as Burton had passed the enemy, he banked his machine and wheeled to the left, climbing as rapidly as possible to make good the deficiency in height. The aviatik also made a spiral movement to the left, with the result that in a few seconds the machines were once more converging on each other. This time, however, Burton was slightly to the rear of the enemy, and when their tracks crossed, he shot up behind it on its left. The aviatik, a second or two too late, made a desperate effort to edge away eastward, but the movement only brought the two planes closer together.

"We can't stick it another minute," gasped Burton.

Hunter did not reply. He had dropped his rifle and seized his automatic pistol. The machines were at point-blank range. Hunter fired. The enemy's observer screwed himself round in his seat to reply. Aiming at the pilot, Hunter sent a stream of bullets from his pistol. The pilot fell forward. For a moment the aeroplane rocked and seemed on the point of capsizing. Then the observer seized the controls, and, with a recklessness that bespoke inexperience or want of skill, began a perilously steep volplane.

Hunter looked down. The machine was rapidly dropping towards the edge of the lake a little to the east of the Maritza River. Suddenly, while yet some distance from the ground, the aviatik's descent was averted, possibly by an air pocket over the lake. For a moment it seemed poised without motion, then it turned a somersault. The observer fell out, and dropped into the lake at the same instant as the machine crashed on to the bank.

Meanwhile Burton had circled round. His tank was nearly empty. He must either come down or fall down. There was no sign of life in the wrecked aeroplane; the observer had disappeared in the water; no one was in sight. Swinging round again Burton adjusted his elevator so as to descend on the lake, and in a few seconds the seaplane was resting on the surface within thirty yards of the spot where the aviatik lay, a mangled heap, on the bank.

III

"We can wade ashore," said Burton. "I can see the bottom."

"Hadn't we better mend the leak?" Hunter suggested.

"But I want to see if the German has any spare petrol. We've lost a lot."

They waded through a foot or two of water, and examined the wreck. One of the wings was crumpled up; otherwise the machine had suffered little injury. The pilot, a fair-haired German of Saxon type, was dead. There was plenty of petrol in the tank, and Hunter drew this off into a tin can while Burton returned to the seaplane, pulled it ashore, and set about discovering the leak. It turned out to be a long thin crack on the underside of the tank.

"How on earth are we to mend this?" said Burton, looking at it ruefully.

"Why not stuff it up with mud?" said Hunter. "This stuff at the edge of the lake seems to be clayey, and it will harden in no time."

"Good! It may last for the few miles we have still to cover. Just keep a lookout while I work at it."

Hunter went up the bank. A rough bridle-track skirted the lake and disappeared in a plantation that came down to within about a hundred yards of the water. To the south the view was shut in by a wooded knoll. There was neither man nor house in sight.

Burton had just kneaded some clay for stopping up the crack when they heard shouts in the distance, apparently from a southward direction. He ran up and joined Hunter, and they went together to the knoll some hundred and twenty yards away, from which they expected to get a view of the southern shore and perhaps of the men from whom the cries came. They were careful to keep under cover, and, on arriving at the knoll, lay flat on the ground. As they had hoped, they could now see a large portion of the lake which had previously been hidden from them, and caught glimpses, on the western side, of the bridle-track here and there among the trees. At intervals it disappeared behind slight hillocks or denser stretches of the plantation.

For a minute or two they saw no human beings. The sounds had ceased. But presently, about a third of a mile away to the south, they caught sight of a party of half a dozen horsemen searching the shore of the lake, now trotting into the wood, now riding at the edge of the water, now cantering along the bridle-track in the direction of the Englishmen.

"Turks!" murmured Burton.

"They must have seen the machines fall," said Hunter. "This is awkward, Teddy."