CHAPTER XVIII
TURNING THE TABLES
FOR a few seconds Dick stood dumfounded. The smith, full of apologiesfor the deliberate insolence of his assistant towards a Germanofficer, hurriedly explained.
"The swine is an English prisoner," he said. "He was lent to me froma camp at Meseritz. If the rest of these Englishmen give so muchtrouble as this one I feel sorry for the good Germans to whom theyare hired out. I pay this rascal a mark a week and feed him, and onlyby threatening to send him back to camp for punishment could I gethim to work at all. But I was beginning to think I had broken hisspirit, and now he goes back to his old ways."
"Let me see if I can cow him, smith," said Dick. "You cannot speakthe English tongue, I suppose? No; well, I can, although it is abarbarous language, hardly fit for good Germans to use. I willfrighten him. He will know what it means to refuse to work at theorders of a Saxon officer."
"The matter is in your hands, herr leutnant," replied the smith,obsequiously.
"It's all right, my man," began Dick, addressing his luckless fellowcountryman. "Don't look astonished. I'm supposed to be jawing you.Look as sullen as you can. That's better. This is part of a Britishmachine. We're stranded three miles out. Set to work as hard as youcan, without giving the show away, and I'll do my level best to getyou away. We're in a bit of a hole ourselves, but with this job setright we can make another start."
"Thought something was fishy, sir," replied the man. "Hun flyingofficers don't sport 'wings'; leastways, I've never seed 'em. Yourspuzzled me a bit, but I'm getting past being astonished at anything."
"It's lucky for me that this old smith isn't as cute as you are,"rejoined Dick. "Now I'll tell him I've made you promise to slog in.I'll let him know that you are to carry the rod back to thebattleplane. I'll order him, and he daren't refuse."
"His bad fit is soon over this time, her leutnant," remarked thesmith, as the prisoner resumed his post at the bellows. "And this ispeculiar metal--so light. Do I temper it in water or oil?"
"Oil," replied Dick promptly, not that he was sure of it, but becauseit was unwise to profess ignorance.
Half an hour later the smith, puffing and blowing like a grampus,completed the task, apologising for the roughness of the finish.
"It will be as strong as ever it was," he declared. "The roughness isto be regretted, but after all, the makeshift job will last until youreturn. Is it to the Russian front, herr leutnant?"
"No, to the Bulgarian," replied Dick. "Only this terrific gale blewus out of our course. We were indeed lucky to land at all, except asa crew of corpses. Now, how much is your charge?"
The smith named quite a small sum. Experience had taught him thefolly of demanding anything more of a German officer.
Dick paid him by means of the mark notes that Athol had taken fromthe spy, Karl von Secker, and with which his chum had thoughtfullyprovided him before setting off for the village.
"And now," he continued. "I must have your English prisoner to carrythe thing back. I will make him return within three hours."
"He may take it into his head to escape, herr leutnant," objected thesmith. "You will understand that I am responsible."
"I order you," said Dick sternly.
"In which case I must obey," replied the German. "But if yourexcellency will permit me, I will go with him. It will ease my mindof a lot of worry, and in these times one has quite enough troublewhat with war taxes and food tickets."
"It is forbidden to criticise the actions of the government," saidDick sternly.
"True, true, herr leutnant. I deeply apologise. I trust it will go nofurther," said the smith tremblingly. "But it is permissible that Igo with the man?"
"You seem fonder of the man than I do," grumbled the pseudo-Saxon."Does it always pour like this in Posen? Come along, then, we musthasten."
The English prisoner shot an enquiring glance at Dick as the smithbegan to don a heavy coat.
"It's all right," said the lad reassuringly. "The old fool insistsupon coming. We'll deal with him all right later on."
With no additional protection from the driving rain, which was nowfull in their faces, the thinly clad British Tommy shouldered therepaired rod and followed Dick into the street. The smith brought upthe rear, cursing to himself as his weakly legs sank into the mud,that he had to dance attendance on an officer and a Saxon. There wasone consolation, he argued. His patron might have been a Prussian, inwhich case kicks, not paper-money, might have been his reward.
Upon clearing the outskirts of the village Dick struck the sunkenlane, keeping, as before, on the higher ground by the side, althoughby this time the deluge had left little to choose in the matter of afirm footing. He kept steadily onwards, striving the while to locatethe place where he had to turn of across the trackless waste. TheBritish Tommy, he knew, would stick closer than a brother; whetherthe smith would persist in forcing his company upon him troubled himbut little. Even if the fellow was shrewd enough to discover that thebattleplane was not a German one not much harm was likely to result,unless the smith proved particularly obstreperous.
Dick had already gained the comforting information that there were notroops within twenty or thirty miles, and that the village waspractically devoid of able-bodied men; so that, in the event ofmissing the spot where Blake and his comrades were, the lad wouldhave no hesitation in firing a revolver to attract their attention.For the present, however, he refrained from using the weapon. For onething he was rather anxious to return unaided; for another thedirection and force of the wind rendered futile all sound signalsuntil he was very much closer to the stranded battleplane.
At long intervals Dick glanced over his shoulder. The now drenchedsoldier was trudging stolidly along; the smith was making heavygoing, and showing visible signs of distress. Had Dick wished hecould have outstripped the man without difficulty.
"Can't be far off now," he soliloquised. "Seems to me I've trampednearly five miles."
He stopped and scanned the surrounding countryside. As far as thedriving rain permitted the land presented a flat appearance withoutany outstanding characteristics--a treeless expanse of mud.
The smith must have guessed the lad's perplexity, for a curious lookoverspread his coarse features.
"Herr leutnant has lost his way?" enquired he. "Or, perhaps, themachine has flown off?"
"Silence!" exclaimed Dick fiercely. This time there was no need toimpersonate the irate officer: he was genuinely furious with thefellow.
"Some one signalling, sir, on our right," declared the Tommy, whereatthe smith, either surprised at the Englishman's audacity or anxiousto vent his spleen upon the luckless prisoner, stooped, picked up ahandful of mud and hurled it at him.
"They are our friends," exclaimed Dick joyously. "Keep yourself undercontrol a few minutes longer. We mustn't let this low-down rascalsmell a rat until we're ready for action again. May as well make himuseful."
"Stop there till I tell you," ordered the lad, addressing the German."You can keep a sharp eye on your assistant from where you arestanding."
Then, bidding the Tommy follow, he hurried across the interveninghundred yards that separated him from his comrades. Unbeknown to all,Dick had actually passed within almost hailing distance of thebattleplane without seeing it or being seen by Athol and thesergeant, until the hollow in which the machine rested was well onhis right hand.
"Whom have you here?" asked Blake.
"A British soldier, hired out as a sort of slave to the villageblacksmith," explained Dick. "We'll have to keep up the deceit untilwe set the rod in position; then it will be a huge joke to enlightenthe rascally Hun on certain points."
Having given a rapid report on what had taken place, Dick assistedthe inventor in replacing the actuating rod. In twenty minutes thework was completed, although on testing the machine Blake discoveredthat owing to some slight and almost imperceptible curve in the metalthe rod was nearly a quarter of an inch shorter than before.
"May make a slight difference to
our trim," said Blake. "However,flight alone will prove that. You see we haven't been idle. We havebeen repairing the larger rents in the wings. Now, all aboard. Dick,show your protégé the way. We'll give him a dry suit and some hotgrub. Poor beggar, he's half dead with hunger and exposure."
"'Arf a mo', sir," protested the man. "Before I go can I have a wordwith yon chap?" And he indicated the still waiting smith, who was nowheartily sick of the whole business, and was wishing that he hadtaken his chances in letting his assistant go alone.
"Very good," agreed Blake, thinking that the Tommy wishedparticularly to say something to the Hun.
The man plodded stolidly towards the smith until he got within acouple of yards.
"Put your dooks up, old sport," he exclaimed, at the same time"squaring up" to the astonished German.
Having no longer an iron bar with which to assert his authority, thesmith showed no great eagerness to accept the challenge. If heexpected the officers to intervene he was grievously mistaken.
At length in desperation, for the Tommy was edging nearer, with grimanticipation written on his gaunt features, the Hun threw himselfinto a defensive position. That was all his former assistantrequired; for the next moment the bully was sprawling on his back ina foot of liquid mud.
Apparently the British soldier considered that old scores were wipedout, for with the utmost magnanimity he hauled the helpless smith outof the mire and set him upon his feet. This done he unconcernedlystrolled back to the battleplane.
"Couldn't help it, sir," he explained apologetically. "Had to get itoff my chest. Let bygones be bygones, they used to drill into my headat school. I reckon that proverb ought to be wiped off the slateafter what our chaps have gone through out yonder. Penal servitudeain't in it: it's slaving with starvation chucked in."
"Let's hope your troubles are now over, my man," quoth Blake as hetook his seat at the helm. "All ready, Dick?... Hold on a minute."
The smith, finding that his assistant was on the point of beingspirited away in the huge flying machine, came floundering towardsthem. Much as he feared being left alone with the pugnaciousEnglishman he dreaded having to report his loss to the commandant ofthe prison camp.
"Good-bye, smith," shouted Dick in German. "Don't be in too great ahurry to inform the authorities that you have been aiding the Englishby repairing one of their battleplanes. Kaiser Wilhelm might be veryangry with you."
The next instant the machine rose with a bound, and fleeting beforethe still strong westerly gale, resumed her flight towards theRussian frontier, leaving the astonished and dumfounded smith torealise the magnitude of his unwitting offence against the GermanEmpire.
For the next few hours the aerial voyage was comparativelyuneventful. The rescued prisoner, who gave his name as Private TomSmith, of the "Chalkshires," and who had been taken prisoner early inthe campaign, was now fast asleep, after a good hot meal and a changeof clothing.
The battleplane, flying at an immense height, was now far above therain-clouds and bathed in brilliant sunshine. Looking downwardsnothing was visible of the earth, a seemingly unlimitable expanse ofdazzling white clouds forming an effectual screen between the airmenand the dreary soil of East Prussia.
"Time we descended to verify our position," announced Blake."Although in this case it is preferable to overshoot the mark wedon't want a long flight against this gale if we can help it."
Cleaving her way through the clouds and leaving an eddying wake offleecy vapour behind her, the battleplane again came within sight ofthe earth.
It was no longer raining. A clear view could be obtained formiles--but instead of the flat plains of Russia a vast sea met theairmen's gaze.
"We're a bit out," declared Blake. "We're right over the Baltic."
Before either of the lads could comment upon the somewhatdisconcerting nature of the discovery Blake suddenly thrust a leverhard over, automatically locking the wings.
"Take charge, Athol," he exclaimed hurriedly. "Keep her as steady asyou can, and check any tendency for her to heel. I'm going outsidefor a few moments."
To the young airmen's astonishment the inventor began to discard hisheavy coat and boots.
"What's wrong?" enquired Athol.
"Only that rod," replied Blake. "The securing nut is working loose.We can't afford to let both drop or it will mean complete disasterfor us all."
"Then I'm the man for that job," decided the lad promptly. "I'm lightand agile and--and----"
He stopped abruptly. It was on the tip of his tongue to add the words"you are not," but checked himself in time.
Every moment was precious. There was no time for argument. Blakeinstantly realised the force of his young assistant's remarks andacquiesced.
Knotting a rope round his waist, and holding a spanner in his mouth,Athol dropped lightly upon the rigidly locked wing, gripping theforemost edge in order to save himself from being swept away by theterrific rush of air.
Foot by foot he made his way along the trembling fabric until hishead and shoulders projected beyond the tip of the aluminium wing.Although by this time well acquainted with dizzy heights the lad darenot look down upon the distant expanse of water. He kept his eyesfixed upon the loose nut, a foot or so on the underside of the wing.Only three or four threads were holding. In a few minutes, had notthe defect been noticed, the actuating rod would have becomedetached, with the result that the wing, no longer held in position,would have folded itself. Like a crippled bird the battleplane wouldhave crashed through thousands of feet with incredible speed, sealingthe fate of all on board.
"Got you, you brute!" ejaculated Athol triumphantly as he gave afinal wrench to the now secure nut.
The task accomplished it was no easy matter for the lad to regain thechassis. Temporarily exhausted with his exertions and buffeted by thecutting wind he lacked the strength to haul himself from the wing tothe upper side of the fuselage; but Dick came to Athol's aid, and atlength the lad was dragged into safety.
"Good man!" exclaimed Blake approvingly as he again actuated thewings.
There was little margin to spare. Already the battleplane hadvolplaned to within a thousand feet of the sea.
It was not until the mechanical bird had regained her former altitudethat her crew were able to discuss the factor that had carried themso far out of their course. An explanation was necessary in order toexplain satisfactorily why, instead of being over the province ofCourland, the airmen found themselves miles from land and over theexpansive Baltic.