CHAPTER XII

The Mail Escort

During the next few days the Belgian field army had no respite. Landen was occupied by the Germans on the 10th of August, and strong cavalry screens of the enemy advanced along the Dutch border to within a few miles of the capital. Other large bodies of cavalry threatened the Belgian right wing, and in consequence a retirement of the small yet determined army was necessary.

Two days later the Belgians gained a brilliant success at Haelen, where the Germans, incautiously attempting to force a passage of the River Gethe, were driven back in disorder and with great loss.

Of this action Kenneth Everest and his companion saw nothing, having been sent on duty to the Belgian capital.

In Brussels the lads remained two days, having to await a reply to the dispatch they had brought. During their brief periods of leisure they hastened to call at the house of Major Resimont in the Rue de la Tribune, but the place was in charge of servants. No news was to be obtained of Mademoiselle Yvonne Resimont or of Kenneth's sister. Beyond the unauthenticated report that the two girls had left the school at Vise a few hours before the commencement of the German bombardment, all traces of them were lost.

"Perhaps," suggested Rollo, "your sister went back to England and took Yvonne with her. They say that numbers of refugees have passed through Rotterdam on their way across the North Sea."

"Possibly," agreed Kenneth. "In which case we are completely in the dark until we are lucky enough to get letters from home."

The inhabitants of Brussels were strangely calm. The fact that the German invaders had gained a firm footing in their country did not drive them into a panic. Possibly events of past history had taught them to regard the overrunning of Belgium as a foregone conclusion when the neighbouring Great Powers were at war. Above all, they continued steadfastly to rely upon the prompt arrival of the British Expeditionary Force, which, in conjunction with their own army and that of the French nation, would quickly send the barbarous Teutons fleeing for their lives across the Rhine.

"Hark!" exclaimed Rollo. "The papers are out. Something important has happened."

The chums had retired early to bed in their modest lodgings of the Rue Pontus, as they had been warned for duty at five on the following morning. Their stock of money, although augmented by their scanty army pay, was visibly dwindling; but after more than a week in bivouacs they were grateful to sleep under a roof, undisturbed by the nerve-shattering roar of hostile guns.

"It can wait till to-morrow," said Kenneth with a prodigious yawn. "I feel too jolly tired----"

The next moment he was out of bed and making for the window, for above the cheering on the Grands Boulevards came the oft-repeated cries of: "The English Army in Belgium".

Hastily scrambling into their clothes, the two excited lads made their way into the street and through the swarm of wildly exuberant citizens. After a struggle they succeeded, at the cost of a franc, in obtaining a copy of one of the local papers, and bore it back to their room in triumph.

In huge letters were the words: "LES ANGLAIS SUR LE CONTINENT", the report being taken from the French paper, _Le Journal_, dated Thursday, the 13th August:--

"By our Special Correspondent.--For several days the valiant British troops, who are to co-operate with our soldiers to repel the German aggression in Belgium, have been crossing the Straits. Kept back at first by the risks of a naval combat which the English fleet was waiting to offer, in the North Sea, to the principal units of the enemy marine, the disembarkation has now taken place in perfect order and with surprising regularity. Up to the present the contingents sent forward in the direction of Namur are considerable.

"Under the favour of darkness and in great mystery the transports were organized. During Saturday night, by small detachments all along the Belgian coast from Ostend to Zeebrugge, the steamers chartered by the British Admiralty disembarked at first a small army, which moved before dawn to the position allotted to it. Farther south, that same night, semaphores signalled the arrival of mysterious ships, which, after a brief stay, returned towards English shores. On the following day, too, at the same hour, similar operations and disembarkations took place with such rapidity and such silence that the inhabitants saw nothing."

"Sounds promising," remarked Rollo thoughtfully. "But this is Friday. Do you think it likely that our troops have been on Belgian soil for nearly a week and this is the first we've heard of it?"

"The Press Censor perhaps----"

"Cannot gag the mouths of a million, old chap. However, I hope it's true. Of course I know an army cannot be expected to land and proceed straight to the front, but if they are to do anything they'll have to jolly well hurry up."

"Don't put a damper on the good news, old man."

"All right, I won't, Kenneth; but, until I see a khaki regiment on Belgian soil, I'm hanged if I will believe. Take me for a doubting Thomas if you will. Anyway, I'm going to turn in again; we've to be up early, you know."

In spite of the deafening clamour without, the chums slept soundly until the concierge knocked loudly at the door to announce that it was a quarter to five, and that the breakfast of messieurs les Anglais was ready to be served as ordered.

Upon arriving at the place indicated in their order, the two dispatch-riders found that they were to be temporarily attached to the mail escort. Letters and parcels for the troops in the field had accumulated during the last three days to enormous proportions. Five large motor-cars had been requisitioned to take this mass of correspondence from the capital, the convoy being accompanied by a patrol of lancers, cyclists, and motor-cyclists.

"Wonder if there's anything for us in that lot?" hazarded Kenneth, as four large wicker hampers addressed to the 9th Regiment of the Line were unceremoniously dumped into a car. The correspondence had already been passed by a Belgian censor, and the baskets had been secured by an imposing wax seal.

"Perhaps," replied Rollo. "At all events we'll keep a special eye on the car. One never knows where to expect the unwelcome attentions of those ubiquitous Uhlans, and it will never do to let them pry into the family secrets of our comrades of the 9th."

Through the flag-bedecked streets of Brussels the mail convoy made its way. The route, as supplied to the officer in command, was a circuitous one. Proceeding in an almost southerly direction, past the villages of Waterloo, Genappe, and Quatre Bras, the mails for Namur and the left flank of the Belgian field army were to be detached at the village of Sombreffe. The remainder of the convoy was then to proceed through Gembloux to Tirlemont, dropping the crates addressed to various regiments at the nearest points to their ultimate destinations.

The motor-cars set out at a rapid pace, so much so that by the time they were clear of the Forest of Soignies, less than ten miles from the capital, the horses and the cyclists were almost "done up". Either speed or the force at the disposal of the convoy had to be sacrificed, and after a hasty consultation with his subordinates, the officer in charge decided upon the latter alternative.

Accordingly the lancers were sent back, while a dozen of the cyclists were ordered to leave their machines at a wayside inn and to ride on the cars. From information received from various sources, there was every reason to believe that that part of the country was free from the attentions of the invaders, and no cause to doubt that the mail would be delivered in safety and with celerity. Again the convoy was set in motion, Kenneth and Rollo riding at a distance of about two hundred yards ahead, for their wish to keep an eye on one particular car had been abruptly nipped in the bud.

"We've seen the field of Waterloo at all events," shouted Rollo, in order to make himself heard above the noise of the motors. "But it's under different circumstances from those we expected."

They had had but a distant and momentary glimpse of the famous pyramid of earth surmounted by the Lion of Belgium. The ground that, less than a century before, was drenched with the blood of men of half a dozen nationalities was again being prepared for a similar object on a vaster scale. Belgian troops and peasants were busily engaged in digging trenches; for here, according to the expectations of military experts, was to be fought the decisive battle that was to save Brussels and Belgium from the Teutonic invasion.

At Quatre Bras the convoy struck the Namur road. A couple of miles farther on Kenneth's keen eyes detected a movement towards their left front. In double-quick time the lads dismounted and held up their hands, a signal that brought the convoy to a standstill.

"Cavalry, sir!" said Kenneth, pointing in the direction of a clump of trees.

"Our vedettes, without doubt," declared the Belgian officer, leisurely unstrapping his field-glasses. Before he could get them to bear, Kenneth was sweeping the country with his powerful binoculars. There was no mistake: the cavalry were Uhlans. They had already spotted the convoy, and were advancing at the trot to capture or destroy the weakly-protected mail escort.

Just then came a dull rumble at some distance to the rear of the line of halted cars. The enemy had blown up the railway bridge on the line between Charleroi and the north, thus cutting off the retreat of the convoy.

"Mon capitaine," exclaimed one of the cyclists who had been given a place in one of the cars; "I know this part of the country well. A kilometre farther on is a road to the right. It will bring us to Ligny."

The officer gave one glance towards the advancing Uhlans, now barely a mile and a half away.

"En avant!" he ordered.

It was touch-and-go which would first reach the junction of the roads. Only a momentary hesitation on the part of the Uhlans saved the situation, for, seeing the convoy advance at full speed, they feared an attack by the already dreaded motor-cars armed with mitrailleuses.

But as the convoy swung round the sharp corner a hail of bullets came from the carbines of the German cavalry; then, realizing that their discretion had got the better of their valour, the Uhlans dashed in pursuit.

The Belgians cheered ironically. The idea of horses competing with motor-cars seemed absurd. The latter covered three yards to the Uhlans' one, and every moment the animals were becoming more and more fatigued.

Suddenly Rollo gave vent to a warning shout. Ahead was the village of Ligny, but between the convoy and the nearest houses were dense masses of cavalry. Their capture seemed inevitable.

Again the motor-cars came to a halt. The Belgian captain saw that he was in a trap.

"Turn about!" he ordered. "We must charge these Prussians behind us. It will be easier to force our way through a hundred than----"

"Mon capitaine!" shouted an excited voice.

The Belgian officer turned, almost angrily.

"We are saved--regardez!" continued the speaker, pointing to the railway line about three hundred yards to the right of the road.

Making their way along the hollow by the side of the line were swarms of men in blue coats, red trousers, and kepis. There was no mistaking them: they were French troops. The cavalry, too, close to the village of Ligny were French chasseurs. The long-expected aid had become an accomplished fact. French armies were on Belgian soil.

Already the Uhlans had perceived their peril. They turned and rode for dear life.

Up came a group of French officers. Gravely they exchanged salutes with the commander of the convoy.

"We hope to effect a junction with the Belgian army before nightfall, monsieur," announced a colonel. "We have been instructed to occupy the line Ligny-Tirlemont. It is to be hoped that these pigs of Prussians have not tampered with the railway."

"Unfortunately they have, sir," replied the Belgian captain. "Already they have blown up a bridge on the Quatre Bras road."

The Frenchman rapped out an oath.

"More work for our engineers," he remarked. "Nevertheless, the Prussians shall pay. We have them. With the English between Antwerp and Louvain, and your army between Louvain and Tirlemont, these Germans are in front of a wall that cannot be climbed. You say that part of your convoy is destined for Namur? Send them on, monsieur. We hold both banks of the Sambre. For the rest we cannot, unfortunately, offer you any guarantees."

Accordingly the convoy was split up, Kenneth and Rollo going with the cars containing the mails for the Belgian troops at Tirlemont.

"The papers were right after all, old man," remarked Kenneth. "Our troops are in Belgium. Now, admit that your doubts were ill-founded."

"I suppose so," admitted Rollo; "but all the same I should like to see a khaki regiment, if only for the sake of ocular demonstration."

Before four that afternoon the mail for the 9th Regiment of the Line was safely delivered, and with the utmost dispatch the work of distribution began. It seemed a fitting reward that Kenneth should receive half a dozen letters, three of which, bearing different dates, were from his father. Rollo had to be content with four.

While the latter, with his usual deliberation, opened his communications in the order of their postmarks, Kenneth impetuously tore the envelope of his latest-dated one, and read as follows:--

"DEAR KENNETH,

"I wrote you at the Poste Restante at Liege, on the off-chance that you might receive it on the eve of the declaration of war. From the contents of your letter I have reason to believe that you did not. I am naturally most anxious concerning Thelma. Up to the time of writing I have had no tidings whatsoever, although I made enquiries of the British Consuls at Antwerp, Rotterdam, and The Hague.

"In my previous letters addressed to you at the Field Post Office of the 9th Regiment of the Line, I expressed my fullest approval of the step you have taken. In case you have not received my former letters I must repeat these sentiments. You are doing your duty to your country by serving under the Belgian flag as faithfully as if you were under your own--for ours is a united cause. Perhaps more so, since you are not yet of an age to accept a commission. Should you be in need of funds, I have placed the sum of Fifty Pounds to your account in the Credit Belgique at Brussels.

"I am also sending you a batch of newspapers ["They have gone adrift," thought Kenneth] which will be of interest to you.

"I hear also that ... [Here was a long excision by the Censor.]

"Once more, good luck. Do your duty manfully and fearlessly. Regards to young Barrington. I made a point of seeing his father the other day, and he is with me in my view of the step you two have taken. Needless to say, my Mediterranean trip is off. There is other work even for an old buffer such as I am.

"Your affectionate father, "THOMAS EVEREST."

"The pater's a brick," declared Kenneth, after he had finished wading through his other correspondence; then, observing that Rollo was still scanning his budget, he made his way across to the motor-cycles. In his excitement he had forgotten to turn off the petrol tap of his mount, and had just remembered the fact.

On the way back he ran across Major Resimont, whom he had not seen since the night of the evacuation of Liege.

The Major greeted him warmly, congratulated him upon gaining his stripes, and asked him how he had fared.

"I have, unfortunately, bad news," said the Major sadly. "It would be well to keep the information to yourself: the Liege forts have fallen, and General Leman is a prisoner."

"I thought they could hold out for months," Kenneth blurted out, his sense of discretion overcome by the suddenness of the news.

"We all thought so," rejoined Major Resimont quietly. "But those huge German guns, they cracked the cupolas like nutshells, and killed or wounded every man in the forts."

"The French are here, though," announced Kenneth. "We came in touch with them this morning."

"I know," said the Belgian. "They have already succeeded in taking Dinant. We have certain hopes in the French."

"And the British troops are in Belgium."

The Major shook his head.

"See, sir," persisted Kenneth, producing the copy of the paper he had purchased in Brussels.

"I have already seen it," said Major Resimont; "it is only a rumour. It is, moreover, false; there is not a single English regiment in Belgium. Your country is, I fear, too late to save Brussels from the invaders."