With Joffre at Verdun: A Story of the Western Front

Perhaps three minutes later he emerged from that place with two baskets more than fully laden; for, be it mentioned, if the towns and cities of Germany at these times were feeling the pinch of war, if the blockade of the British Fleet had deprived the Kaiser's subjects of many food-stuffs and other commodities, and if, indeed, as undoubtedly was the case, there was shortage in many parts of Germany, there was still without doubt, abundance in many a farm and homestead, abundance, that is to say, of home-produced articles. Thus, there were strings of sausages in that larder, ready for the hand which sought to take them, there were hard-baked biscuits and bread, and home-brewed beer in abundance. It was indeed with provisions and drink enough to last for several days that Henri struggled from the larder into the kitchen, and, having blown out the candle and replaced it where he had found it, went to the door that led to the yard and made ready to emerge from it. It was indeed in that precise position that his further progress was suddenly arrested; for, as he pulled the door open and prepared to step into the yard, a gang of men came to the corner of the building, and, thrusting their way through that gate which gave admission to the yard, suddenly accosted him in the doorway. They were Germans; they were a party of guards sent from Ruhleben; and beyond them, secured to leashes, were a couple of dogs, sent with them to hound down the prisoners who had escaped from the camp.

CHAPTER V

Eluding the Pursuers

If a picture could have been taken of the astonished and nonplussed Henri at the precise moment when, as he stood half within and half without the door of the farmhouse from which he had been purloining food and drink, he was accosted by that German party from Ruhleben, his own devoted mother would have undoubtedly had the utmost difficulty in recognizing her offspring. To begin with, having discarded his drenched clothing and left it in that room which had provided such warmth and comfort to himself and Stuart and Jules, Henri had, because no other change was possible for the moment, borrowed an old pair of trousers hanging on the wall, which, from their dilapidated and mud-stained appearance, may well have belonged to the farm hand – the usual occupant of the building. An equally tattered coat was over his shoulders, while his bare feet were thrust into a pair of heavily nailed boots, which had been cleaned perhaps a year before. There was no hat on his head, and, thanks to his swim in the river, his hair – which had grown excessively long in Ruhleben – hung lankly over his eyes and forehead, producing altogether an appearance not very uncommon in the country. To be very precise, if not complimentary, we must admit that the usually debonair and dapper Henri looked like the village idiot at that moment; while his astonishment, causing his mouth to open, gave his face a vacant expression which matched well with his appearance.

"Ho, you at the door, and at the very right moment! What's this? Bring a light and throw it on him. Heavens! What a scarecrow! Where's your master, lad; and where are you going?"

A big, burly man, a non-commissioned officer, one of the staff at Ruhleben, barred Henri's progress, and, snatching the lantern which one of his men carried, held it over the youth he had accosted and surveyed him closely.

"Baskets – eh? And full of provender – beer and sausages and bread – well I never!" gasped the Sergeant. "Who may you be, my lad? And where's your master? That's a question you haven't answered, and, besides, who's all this stuff for? Good food and drink, and going outside the farm-house!"

He lowered his lamp and threw the rays of light on to the baskets and their contents, while his hungry eyes fixed themselves upon the sausages. Henri giggled. Intuitively he realized that he must indeed look like a scarecrow, and, employing his quick wits, that French perception which led him so quickly to realize the situation, he determined to act up to it. Not that he felt much inclined to giggle or ready for mirth; for, indeed, he was almost trembling with agitation. At any moment the door of the kitchen might be burst open by the farmer himself, and he would be discovered. The Sergeant had, indeed, spoken in the loudest tones – in those rough, bullying, spluttering tones so common to German sergeants, so loudly that he had drowned the sound of the organ beyond and the voice of the woman who was singing. Henri suppressed a shiver, giggled inanely again, and listened for sounds from the far part of the farm-house. Yes, he could hear the organ still, and that voice droning on, and at once took comfort.

"Sausages, Sergeant," he said, smirking at him, and lifting the basket so that the man could see its contents more clearly. "You like sausages too, and you are hungry, you and your men, eh?"

And once more the Frenchman giggled in the face of the non-commissioned officer.

"Why, yes. Now that you mention it, a man's mostly hungry who tramps the country at night, and rushes about the place in search of prisoners. Listen, youngster; you've seen three men crossing this way – three men who have broken out of Ruhleben?"

Henri looked at him vacantly.

"Prisoners?" he asked. "Germans?"

"Germans!" the man exclaimed. "What next! Why, two Frenchmen and a bull-necked, red-faced Englishman. Say, have you seen them?"

Once more Henri giggled inanely and lifted his basket.

"And about the sausages," he reminded the Sergeant; "you like them? You are hungry? Well, now, there are plenty in the larder; light up the kitchen, and take your seats; I'll be back in a few minutes, and will call the master to you."

They pressed round him, that sergeant and his men; pushed him rudely aside, and made their way, talking in loud voices, into the kitchen – talking so loudly, indeed, that those inhabitants of the farm-house, enjoying a musical evening, heard them, and, ceasing at once the playing of their organ, stood to their feet and listened. A minute later the doorway leading from the hall into the kitchen was burst open, and a very startled, very frightened, and exceedingly rotund and healthy farmer pushed his way into the apartment.

As for Henri, he crossed the yard in half a dozen strides, gained the staircase, and raced up it, to discover Stuart and Jules seated by the fire, chatting and smoking.

"My word!" exclaimed Jules as Henri entered; "two baskets of provender this time, and full – both of them. Now listen to us, Henri; we've found a beautiful little hole in a bundle of hay in the loft close handy, and, from the position of the place, we believe it to be seldom entered. It's just the spot in which to pass the night, and sleep throughout the following day if need be."

"And you listen for a moment," said Henri, speaking swiftly. "A party of Germans from Ruhleben have just reached the farm, and I met them face to face. I thought they would have recognized me, for amongst them was one whom I remember to have seen doing sentry duty; but I'm such a scarecrow in these clothes, and so dishevelled, that they took me for some farm hand or village lout, and let me pass. But in a little while they will be asking questions of the farmer, there'll be a hue and cry, and they'll know that one of the prisoners who escaped has been close to them. We must move. That comfortable little spot, which sounds so inviting, is out of the question. Let's pick up our clothes and make a dash into the open. It looks to me almost as if we should have to swim the river again, for there are two bloodhounds with the party I accosted, and they may easily trace us."

Pulling on their still damp clothing as rapidly as they could, they sent Jules first of all to the bottom of the staircase, to make sure that there was no sign of the farmer or his visitors; then Henri and Stuart each picked up a basket, and, stealing down into the yard, made their way out of it, and, skirting the house, gained the highway. Pressing along it, walking at a rapid rate, they pushed on during the hours of darkness, and just as the light began to grow, seeing some buildings away to their right, turned off along a country lane which led towards them, and presently discovered themselves to be close to a sugar factory, at one end of which a water-tower was erected. Carefully looking around them, to make sure that no one was about, they sought for a door, and, entering a yard round which buildings were erected, presently discovered a wide door which was unbolted. Entering without hesitation, and closing it after them, they found themselves in a huge apartment with bins on every side, with overhead shafts and pulleys. At the far end a staircase led to another floor, and, ascending that, they found themselves in an apartment of similar dimensions, the floor space of which was occupied by machines of various patterns. At the far end, where the tower was erected, there was another doorway, and passing through it they clambered up the steep stone stairs, which finally led them to a small room at the top, above which was an iron-girdered ceiling supporting a huge water-tank, to which supplies were pumped no doubt from the river. Having groped their way in the semi-darkness to this spot, they barred the door of the room by driving a wedge in above the latch, and then, thoroughly tired out after their long tramp and their adventures of the previous day and night, they lay down to sleep, careless almost of the consequences.

Two whole days passed during which Henri and his friends were unable to move from the room to which they had gained access – two days during which they slept in turns, and rested, while the one who watched posted himself at one of the four windows which looked out from each side of the tower, and surveyed the surrounding country. From that post of vantage they were able to see the river which they had crossed higher up, and even the roof of the farm where they had obtained food and temporary shelter; they could observe every feature of the country, the yard below, the hosts of women workers in the sugar factory, the coming and going of important-looking factory officials, and even the passage of search-parties along the road in their quest for the prisoners.

"It looks to me as though we'd found a safe haven," said Henri, when he had been on duty for some hours and the others had awakened. "I watched a party coming down the road with two dogs, and I'm sure that they are the fellows who so nearly captured me at the farm yonder. They turned up towards this factory, called loudly for the manager, and made a survey of the buildings. For all I know they may even have come to the foot of the tower, but they certainly did not ascend the staircase. You can imagine that I took particular notice of the bloodhounds who accompanied them."

"Ha!" exclaimed Stuart. "Show any signs of excitement – eh? Did they look about them and sniff as though they had scented us?"

"Not a bit of it. They were as quiet as lambs, and seemed utterly bored with the whole business, and as if they were thoroughly tired of being dragged at the heels of the search-party. As for the men, they looked weary and fagged out after their tramp, and I imagine that they take little interest in the business. You've got to remember that we've been now something like three days away from Ruhleben, and the authorities must know that we've had plenty of time to get farther away from the camp. They'd hardly be looking for us now so near it, and no doubt they've telegraphed our description across the country. That being so, it seems to me that the wisest course for us is to stay here as long as possible, until the hue and cry has died down and the event has been forgotten."

"And then," asked Jules inquisitively, "what's to happen? We are still a precious long way from France or from any of the neutral countries. It's time, I should think, that we made a plan for the future, for up to now we've followed the road, as it were, of least resistance; we took the direction which seemed best under pressing circumstances, and did not head for any particular destination."

"Then what about Holland?" demanded Stuart; "the people are friendly enough, and, if one only knew the truth, are precious frightened of the Germans. Once across the frontier there we shall receive hospitality; and, seeing that the Germans are hardly frightened of the Dutch, the frontier will not be so very heavily guarded. But in the direction of France and Belgium there's that trench-line we've heard so much about, and where I'd give a lot to be fighting."

"Holland's the country we should make for undoubtedly," agreed Henri, when they had discussed the matter a little further. "But in which direction it lies, precisely, is rather difficult to determine; we shall have to leave that to the future, and of course must find out the way by asking questions. That means that we must discover disguises first of all, and that is a thing that wants a lot of doing. As to staying here, I feel quite sure that it's a wise procedure; and, thanks to the food and the drink we brought along, we have rations enough, if we husband them carefully, to last for quite four or five days longer."

It was not particularly exciting or exhilarating in that lofty room at the top of the tower, and went little way towards meeting the wishes of any one of the party, yet the plan met with the hearty approval of the canny Stuart, and, since Henri himself had proposed it, met with the ready assent of Jules. That they had food sufficient to last them for several days was quite certain, while the question of drink was cleared up already – for they had discovered a trap-door in the girdered ceiling above them and an iron ladder outside the door of the room, which, when put in position, gave access to it. Clambering up that, one very early morning when a mist hung over the country, Henri had discovered a narrow gallery surrounding the huge water-tank, and, lifting the inspection-door over the latter, had found it full of water. It was from this that they replenished their supplies at night, and so made certain of the fact that, however long they remained as prisoners in that place, thirst would not assail them.

At the end of the week, however, impatience to be moving on was beginning to try them far more than their enforced idleness, and many a discussion did they indulge in with reference to their future movements. Numerous and various were the suggestions made by one or other of the party, but, excellent though some of them may have been, on discussion all were vetoed. Yet, something must be done, something definite decided upon; and finally, in desperation almost, Henri decided to emerge from their hiding-place and make a closer investigation of their surroundings.

"It stands to reason," he told his friends at the end of one of these fruitless discussions – "it stands to reason that if we leave the place now – and in the course of a few hours we shall be forced to, seeing that our food-supply is almost gone – we shall be hardly any better off than we were at the commencement; for you have to remember that a full and complete description of us has been telegraphed broadcast, and, though the novelty of the event has now worn off, no doubt there are hundreds of police officers on the look-out for us. Thus it follows that to make our escape successful we must either march at night-time only – which renders the purchase of food almost an impossibility, and compels us to steal it or get it in much the same way as we got this supply from the farm building – or we must find disguises which will alter our appearance entirely and allow us even to board a train and travel with ordinary people. I'll take a look round while you fellows stay up here. If I'm caught – well, it's bad luck, that's all, and needn't spoil your chances."

Slipping out of the room when dusk had fallen, and the voices of the work-people had subsided and their retreating footsteps had died away in the distance, Henri gained the huge room below, and, descending to the lower floor, made his way out into the yard; then, taking the utmost caution to guard against surprise, he visited each of the buildings in turn, narrowly escaping, in one of them, running face to face with a workman engaged in attending to a machine. Retreating hurriedly, he once more gained the yard, and finally gained a corridor which gave access to the manager's buildings. It was perhaps half an hour later, when Jules and Stuart were growing anxious, and were listening eagerly for sounds of their friend's return, that they heard steps on the stone staircase leading to their chamber.

"Henri without a doubt," said Stuart, a note of relief in his voice, for the lusty fellow had taken an enormous liking for Henri. "That's good! I was really beginning to get awfully anxious about him."

"And I had almost given him up for lost," said Jules, equally relieved. "There he is, just outside the door. Ha, Henri! we began to think that you would never return, and now – "

The two inmates of the room, peering through the dusk as the door opened, saw an unfamiliar figure enter: a man dressed in baggy clothing, a man whose eyes were encircled by the broad rims of heavy glasses, and upon whose head sat an absurdly small Homberg hat. He was a man getting on in years, one would have said – though the dusk made the question uncertain – yet a man who stepped actively, whose breath was not tried by the long ascent, and who knew his path well, and was thoroughly acquainted with the door-way. Could it be Henri? – Henri in disguise? A low chuckle escaped the man – a merry giggle – and then Henri's well-known voice awoke the silence.

"I do wish that it were daylight," he told Stuart and Jules; "you'd then see something that 'ud be good for sore eyes."

"Sore eyes – eh? It isn't so very dark here, and I can see enough to startle me as it is," came the astonished rejoinder. "What on earth have you been doing, Henri; and what's the meaning of this get-up? Of course, it's a disguise; but, bless us! what a disguise!"

"Stop! How's this, then? I'll do the heavy German, and you can judge the effect."

The gay, yet thoughtful, Henri closed the door of the room, and, with what was left of the fast-receding daylight illuminating his person, struck an attitude. Leaning on the stick with which he had provided himself, he twirled the heavy moustaches – artificial affairs which he had contrived to become possessed of – and glared at his comrades through that pair of big-rimmed spectacles which so completely altered his appearance. Then he talked to them – cross-questioned his friends in the gruff, staccato accents one might have expected from such an individual as he represented himself to be.

"German – the heavy German official – from the crown of that ridiculous hat right down to your big flat feet," declared Stuart with gusto, when the little performance was finished. "I'd never have thought it possible, but that moustache has done wonders, and now that one really gets a good glimpse of you, for it isn't so dark after all, I've no hesitation in saying that I'd pass you in the street every day and fail to spot you as Henri."

"As Henri, or even as a Frenchman," added Jules, "or even as any alien or enemy of the Germans. It's tremendous, Henri, a ripping turn-out! How did you manage it? And where on earth did you lay your hands on such garments?"

The somewhat bulky and voluminous individual who had joined them sat down before Stuart and Jules and treated the two of them to an amiable grin, made all the more amiable and owl-like by those glasses.

"I couldn't help grinning at myself," he told them after a minute; "the whole thing seems so awfully cheeky. But, 'pon my word! it occurs to me that cheek is more likely to carry one through in business of this sort than the greatest caution. Cheek and luck did it at that farm and deceived that German party, and now let us hope the same two things – you can't call them virtues – will set us safely in France. How did I do it? – eh! Well, I searched the machine-shops down below, and precious nearly ran my head against a workman; then I crossed the yard, and, on the principle that when you are in quest of anything it's better often enough to go to head-quarters, I boldly made for the manager's office. He's a bit of a Jew, that manager, and it appears that he sleeps in his office, or, rather, in a room attached to it. Anyway, he had quite an assortment of clothing, and I should imagine this to be his best suit, the sort of thing he wears when he's holiday-making – that is, if a German ever does take a holiday. It doesn't exactly fit to a T – it's too loose and baggy, I admit – but it'll do, and the glasses and the moustache help considerably. As to the moustache – well, I fancy the manager occasionally indulges in theatricals. He can't have wanted a false moustache for himself, for I've caught a glimpse of him before now from one of these windows, so it must be that he kept the paraphernalia about for dressing up other people. Talking of dressing up other people reminds me of you two. Stuart's the difficulty; he's so big and bony and strong. Jules would make a splendid girl, if he'd only remember to walk decently and not stride along as he does; but Stuart, what's to be done with him? I thought once of taking him along as my wife, dressed in a most elaborate costume I found in the manager's box of accessories; but it wouldn't do, for, though German women are fat enough in all conscience, heavily built like our friend opposite, they are not so broad in the shoulders, nor so bony."

Stuart's eyes had opened wide as Henri spoke, and more than once a flush came into his face. He felt half-angry for a moment, and then more than half-amused. A second later he seemed to have conjured up a picture of himself dressed as the heavy German lady, the wife of this baggy-breeched, spectacled German, represented by Henri, and the picture set him laughing, softly at first, then, with his mouth wide open, on the point of emitting a roar of mirth. Fortunately, however, Jules caught him in the act, and, clapping one hand over his mouth, arrested the sounds.

"Of course," he said, "if you want to shout and call in the whole crew outside, well, do so; only give us a little time to make our exit beforehand. I'm convinced now, after what Henri said, that you're going to be a trouble to us. You're too big, too big and too heavy by far to be smuggled through the country as a woman, and, 'pon my word, in whatever disguise you are hid – if one can hide such a monster – there's always the danger of your giving us away by ribald laughter."

You might have expected the huge Stuart to boil over with anger after such an outburst, and, indeed, Jules's indignant reproaches were uttered with that purpose; but, as we have inferred before, this great Englishman was not only big and strong and disgustingly healthy, the envy of all in Ruhleben camp, the suspected of every German guard in the place – for how could a fellow retain such proportions with such attenuated diet? – but, boasting of an excellent digestion, the fellow was seldom in an ill humour. Even when he grumbled and said scathing things of the Germans, he was half laughing, and it required a very great deal of annoyance indeed to rouse his passions. Yet the smallest hint of disloyalty to Great Britain, the smallest slur cast on his country's people, roused the giant in this fellow; then those muscles of his were braced for action. And if Henry and Jules had previously had any doubts as to his prowess, these were set at rest after they had witnessed his manner of tackling that under-officer at the mouth of the tunnel. But the friendly gibes of the merry Jules – this somewhat dilapidated and war-worn Frenchman, this individual who had come to Ruhleben camp months before as dapper as Henri, with clothes cut in the masterful manner peculiar to your London tailor, with boots of immaculate appearance, and socks which till then had been the envy of many a youngster – could not rouse Stuart. He was above such petty matters. He could read the meaning in the heart, could see deeply into the characters of the two who were his companions, and, seeing so clearly, the big fellow seated on the floor merely stared back at Jules and Henri and grinned a huge, capacious grin, which took them both in in the semi-darkness, which almost aggravated them, and which finally set them both laughing.

"I'll admit," he said then, almost shamefacedly – "I'll admit that I'm big and strong and bony, and a difficulty under the circumstances. Now, Henri can pass anywhere, I'm sure, as he's dressed and got up; and Jules, well, Jules should make a most dainty little German girl; but there's me – well," he went on, speaking slowly, "that's a job that can soon be ended, and I'll tell you how. You two will get off to-night, and board the nearest train, if you take my advice."