Chapter 23

CONFESSIONS OF AN AMERICAN SPY AND BRAVERY OF BUFFALO SCHOOLBOYS

On December 26th I received a cable from the London _Times_ instructing me to try for another interview with the Crown Prince and to question him on the effect that this Boston victory might have upon the German campaign in America. Would there be retaliatory measures? Would German warships bombard Boston from the sea?

I journeyed at once to Chicago and made my appeal to Brigadier General George T. Langhorne, who had been military attache at Berlin in 1915 and was now in charge of the Imperial prisoner. The Crown Prince and his staff occupied the seventh floor of the Hotel Blackstone.

“I’m sorry,” said General Langhorne, after he had presented my request. “The Crown Prince has no statement to make at present. But there is another German prisoner who wishes to speak to you. I suppose it’s all right as you have General Wood’s permission. He says he has met you before--Colonel von Dusenberg.”

“Colonel von Dusenberg?”

“He is on the Crown Prince’s staff. In here.” I opened a heavy door and found myself in a large dimly lighted room.

“Mr. Langston!”

The voice was familiar and, turning, I stared in amazement; for there, dressed as an officer of the Prussian guard, stood the man I had rescued in the Caribbean Sea, the brother of the girl I had seen in Washington, Lieutenant Randolph Ryerson of the United States navy. He had let his moustache grow, but I recognised him at once.

“You?” I stood looking at him and saw that his face was deathly white.

“Yes. I--I’m in trouble and--I have things to tell you,” he stammered. “Sit down.”

I sat down and lighted a cigarette. I kept thinking how much he looked like his sister.

“Ryerson, what the devil are you doing in that Prussian uniform?”

He turned away miserably, then he forced himself to face me.

“I’ll get the worst over first. I don’t care what happens to me and--anyway I--I’m a spy.”

“A spy?”

He nodded. “In the service of the Germans. It was through me they knew about Widding’s invention to destroy their fleet. It was through me that Edison and Widding were abducted. I meant to disappear--that’s why I joined von Hindenburg’s army, but--we were captured and--here I am.” He looked at me helplessly as I blew out a cloud of smoke.

“How is this possible? How did it happen? How, Ryerson?” I gasped in amazement.

He shook his head. “What’s the use? It was money and--there’s a woman in it.”

“Go on.”

“That’s all. I fell for one of their damnable schemes to get information. It was three years ago on the Mediterranean cruise of our Atlantic squadron. I met this woman in Marseilles.”

“Well?”

“She called herself the Countess de Matignon, and--I was a young lieutenant and--I couldn’t resist her. Nobody could. She wanted money and I gave her all I had; then I gambled to get more. She wanted information about the American fleet, about our guns and coast defences; unimportant things at first, but pretty soon they were important and--I was crazy about her and--swamped with debts and--I yielded. Within six months she owned me. I was a German spy, mighty well paid, too. God!”

I stared at him in dismay. I could not speak.

“Well, after the war broke out between Germany and America last April, this woman came to New York and got her clutches on me deeper than ever. I gave her some naval secrets, and six weeks ago I told her all I knew about Widding’s invention. You see what kind of a dog I am,” he concluded bitterly.

“Ryerson, why have you told me this?” I asked searchingly.

“Why?” He flashed a straightforward look out of his handsome eyes. “Because I’m sick of the whole rotten game. I’ve played my cards and lost. I’m sure to be found out--some navy man will recognise me, in spite of this moustache, and--you know what will happen then. I’ll be glad of it, but--before I quit the game I want to do one decent thing. I’m going to tell you where they’ve taken Edison.”

“You know where Edison is?”

“Yes. Don’t speak so loud.”

Ryerson leaned closer and whispered: “He’s in Richmond, Virginia.”

Silently I studied this unhappy man, wondering if he was telling the truth. He must have felt my doubts.

“Langston, you don’t believe me! Why should I lie to you? I tell you I want to make amends. These German officers trust me. I know their plans and--Oh, my God, aren’t you going to believe me?”

“Go on,” I said, impressed by the genuineness of his despair. “What plans do you know?”

“I know the Germans are disturbed by this patriotic spirit in America. They’re afraid of it. They don’t know where hell may break loose next--after Boston. They’re going to leave Boston alone, everything alone for the present--until they get their new army.”

“New army?”

“Yes--from Germany. They have sent for half a million more men. They’ll have ‘em here in a month and--that’s why I want to do something--before it’s too late.”

As I watched him I began to believe in his sincerity. Handsome fellow! I can see him now with his flushed cheeks and pleading eyes. A spy! It would break his sister’s heart.

“What can you do?” I asked sceptically.

He looked about him cautiously and lowered his voice.

“I can get Edison away from the Germans, and Edison can destroy their fleet.”

“Perhaps,” said I.

“He says he can.”

“I know, but--you say Edison is in Richmond.”

“We can rescue him. If you’ll only help me, Langston, we can rescue Edison. I’ll go to Richmond with papers to the commanding German general that will get me anything.”

“Papers as a German spy?”

“Well--yes.”

“You can’t get to Richmond. You’re a prisoner yourself.”

“That’s where you’re going to help me. You must do it--for the country--for my sister.”

“Does your sister know--what you are?”

He looked away, and I saw his lips tighten and his hands clench.

“No!”

“Do you want me to tell her?”

He thought a moment.

“What’s the use of hiding it? She’s bound to know some day, and--she’ll be glad I’ve had this little flicker of--decency. Besides, she may have an idea. Mary’s got a good head on her. Poor kid!”

I told Ryerson that I would think the matter over and find some way to communicate with him later. Then I left him.

I telegraphed at once to Miss Ryerson, who hurried to Chicago, arriving the next morning, and we spent most of that day together, discussing the hard problem before us. The girl was wonderfully brave when I told her the truth about her brother. She said there were circumstances in his early life that lessened the heinousness of his wrong doing. And she rejoiced that he was going to make amends. She knew he was absolutely sincere.

I suggested that we go to General Wood, who was friendly to both of us, and tell him the whole truth, but Miss Ryerson would not hear to this. She would not place Randolph’s life in jeopardy by revealing the fact that he had been a German spy. Her brother must make good before he could hope to be trusted or forgiven.

“But he’s a prisoner; he can do nothing unless he has his liberty,” I objected.

“We will get him his liberty; we _must_ get it, but not that way.”

“Then how?”

For a long time we studied this question in all its phases. How could Lieutenant Ryerson gain his liberty? How could he get a chance to make amends for his treachery? And, finally, seeing no other way, we fell back upon the desperate expedient of an exchange. I would obtain permission for Miss Ryerson to visit her brother, and they would change clothes, she remaining as a prisoner in his place while he went forth to undo if possible the harm that he had done.

The details of this plan we arranged immediately. I saw Ryerson the next day, and when I told him what his sister was resolved to do in the hope of saving his honour, he cried like a child and I felt more than ever convinced of his honest repentance.

We decided upon December 28th for the attempt, and two days before this Randolph found a plausible excuse for cutting off his moustache. He told General Langhorne that he had become a convert to the American fashion of a clean shaven face.

As to the escape itself, I need only say that on December 28th, in the late afternoon, I escorted Miss Ryerson, carefully veiled, to the Hotel Blackstone; and an hour later I left the hotel with a person in women’s garments, also carefully veiled. And that night Randolph Ryerson and I started for Richmond. I may add that I should never have found the courage to leave that lovely girl in such perilous surroundings had she not literally commanded me to go.

“We may be saving the nation,” she begged. “Go! Go! And--I’ll be thinking of you--praying for you--for you both.”

My heart leaped before the wonder of her eyes as she looked at me and repeated these last words: _“For you both!”_

We left the express at Pittsburg, intending to proceed by automobile across Pennsylvania, then by night through the mountains of West Virginia and Virginia; for, of course, we had to use the utmost caution to avoid the sentries of both armies which were spread over this region.

In Pittsburg we lunched at the Hotel Duquesne, after which Ryerson left me for a few hours, saying that he wished to look over the ground and also to procure the services of a high-powered touring car.

“Don’t take any chances,” I said anxiously.

“I’ll be careful. I’ll be back inside of two hours,” he promised.

But two hours, four hours, six hours passed and he did not come. I dined alone, sick at heart, wondering if I had made a ghastly mistake.

It was nearly ten o’clock that night when Ryerson came back after seven hours’ absence. We went to our room immediately, and he told me what had happened, the gist of it being that he had discovered important news that might change our plans.

“These people trust me absolutely,” he said. “They tell me everything.”

“You mean--German spies?”

“Yes. Pittsburg is full of ‘em. They’re plotting to wreck the big steel plants and factories here that are making war munitions. I’ll know more about that later, but the immediate thing is Niagara Falls.”

Then Ryerson gave me my first hint of a brilliant coup that had been preparing for months by the Committee of Twenty-one and the American high command, its purpose being to strike a deadly and spectacular blow at the German fleet.

“This is the closest kind of a secret, it’s the great American hope; but the Germans know all about it,” he declared.

“Go on.”

“It’s a big air-ship, the America, a super-Zeppelin, six hundred feet long, with apparatus for steering small submarines by radio control--no men aboard. Understand?”

“You mean no men aboard the submarine?”

“Of course. There will be a whole crew on the air-ship. Nicola Tesla and John Hays Hammond, Jr., worked out the idea, and Edison was to give the last touches; but as Edison is a German prisoner, they can’t wait for him. They are going to try the thing on New Year’s night against the German dreadnought _Wilhelm II_ in Boston Harbour.”

“Blow up the _Wilhelm II_?”

“Yes, but the Germans are warned in advance. You can’t beat their underground information bureau. They’re going to strike first.”

“Where is this air-ship?”

“On Grand Island, in the Niagara River, all inflated, ready to sail, but she never will sail unless we get busy. After tomorrow night there won’t be any _America_.”

In the face of this critical situation, I saw that we must postpone our trip to Richmond and, having obtained from Ryerson full details of the German plot to destroy the _America_, I took the first train for Niagara Falls--after arranging with my friend to rejoin him in Pittsburg a few days later--and was able to give warning to Colonel Charles D. Kilbourne of Fort Niagara in time to avert this catastrophe.

The Germans knew that Grand Island was guarded by United States troops and that the river surrounding it was patrolled by sentry launches; but the island was large, sixteen miles long and seven miles wide, and under cover of darkness it was a simple matter for swimmers to pass unobserved from shore to shore.

On the night of December 30th, 1921, in spite of the cold, five hundred German spies had volunteered to risk their lives in this adventure. They were to swim silently from the American and Canadian shores, each man pushing before him a powerful fire bomb protected in a water-proof case; then, having reached the island, these five hundred were to advance stealthily upon the hangar where the great air-ship, fully inflated, was straining at her moorings. When the rush came, at a pre-arranged signal, many would be killed by American soldiers surrounding the building, but some would get through and accomplish their mission. One successful fire bomb would do the work.

Against this danger Colonel Kilbourne provided in a simple way. Instead of sending more troops to guard the island, which might have aroused German suspicions, he arranged to have two hundred boys, members of the Athletic League of the Buffalo Public Schools, go to Grand Island apparently for skating and coasting parties. It was brisk vacation weather and no one thought it strange that the little ferry boat from Buffalo carried bands of lively youngsters across the river for these seasonable pleasures. It was not observed that the boat also carried rifles and ammunition which the boys had learned to use, in months of drill and strenuous target practice, with the skill of regulars.

There followed busy hours on Grand Island as we made ready for the crisis. About midnight, five hundred Germans, true to their vow, landed at various points, and crept forward through the darkness, carrying their bombs. As they reached a circle a thousand yards from the huge hangar shed they passed unwittingly two hundred youthful riflemen who had dug themselves in under snow and branches and were waiting, thrilling for the word that would show what American boys can do for their country. Two hundred American boys on the thousand yard circle! A hundred American soldiers with rifles and machine guns at the hangar! And the Germans between!

We had learned from Ryerson that the enemy would make their rush at two o’clock in the morning, the signal being a siren shriek from the Canadian shore, so at a quarter before two, knowing that the Germans were surely in the trap, Colonel Kilbourne gave the word, and, suddenly, a dozen search-lights swept the darkness with pitiless glare. American rifles spoke from behind log shelters, Maxims rattled their deadly blast, and the Germans, caught between two fires, fled in confusion, dropping their bombs. As they approached the thousand-yard line they found new enemies blocking their way, keen-eyed youths whose bullets went true to the mark. And the end of it was, leaving aside dead and wounded, that _two hundred Buffalo schoolboys made prisoners of the three hundred and fifty German veterans!_

And the great seven-million dollar air-ship _America_, with all her radio mysteries, was left unharmed, ready to sail forth the next night, New Year’s Eve, and make her attack upon the superdreadnought Wilhelm II, on January 1, 1922. I prayed that this would be a happier year for the United States than 1921 had been.