"You will take your leave in the same rank that Hessenburg might havetaken his, namely, as a second lieutenant, if your shrewd interpretationof developing events had not intervened. If you have any reasonabledegree of success in this big venture of yours--and I'm sure youwill--I'll guarantee you a first lieutenancy, and it will take only acontinued exhibition of the good sense and judgment that I have seen inyou up to date to bring you eventually a captain's commission."
"It's 'Second Looie Ellis' now," Irving mused, as he took his seat inthe rear cockpit, strapped himself in, buckled about his waist, chestand shoulders the parachute harness, and waited for the pilot to startthe motor that would send them away off on a wild night trip through theair over a wilder scene of human slaughter and with one of the wildestspy-plans in view that ever put thrills into the records ofinternational secret service agents.
*CHAPTER XXI*
*THE BLOWING UP OF VIMY RIDGE*
The aeroplane in which Lieut. Ellis made his "get-away" flight wasequipped with two machine guns, one for the pilot and one for the gunnerin the rear cockpit. While practicing the art of parachute descent,Irving also acquired some practical knowledge of the use of a machinegun in the air, not with the idea of engaging an enemy plane in battle,but in order that he might put up an appearance of being skilled in skyfighting if it became advisable for him to make such pretense in orderto avert suspicion as to the motive of his "escape." In other words, hemust be careful not to create a suspicion that there was collusionbetween him and the pilot.
The parachute was folded compactly and deposited in a cylindricalchamber behind the rear seat. The mechanism by means of which this aerolife-preserver was put in operation may be described as follows:Directly in front of the parachute container was a device which, whenput in action, effected the release of the giant "umbrella." In frontof this device was a compressed-air reservoir. Within easy reach of theperson occupying the rear seat was a ratchet-lever, which, when pulled,threw the seat back to an angle of about forty-five degrees and jerkedopen the compressed-air reservoir. The opening of this reservoir put therelease machinery into action, and this in turn threw out of thecontaining chamber the compactly folded parachute, which automatically,on being released, spread out and encompassed a great volume ofresisting atmosphere. This powerful resistance, acting like a hurricanein a tent, caused the occupant of the rear cockpit to be jerked alongthe slanting back of his seat out into the vast expanse of empty space.
One great beauty of this device, when used for exhibition purpose, wasthe fact that if it failed to work, the aviator retained his seat ascomfortably as if nothing had happened. As a life-saver, of course,this peculiarity had little or no value, inasmuch as a flyer in distresswould be lost if the parachute failed to pull him out of his seat.
Before each of his experiments, Irving had tested the "sky-umbrella"with a dummy heavier than himself in order to be certain that there wasno danger of ripping the silken cloth. A slight tear produced by thestrain on the parachute while he was being dragged from his seat mightbecome larger during the descent and cause him to fall with sufficientshock to seriously injure or kill him. This was really the onlyconsiderable danger in the whole performance, but it was one that neededto be guarded against very carefully.
Up flew the aeroplane with graceful sweep and joined the flock of twoscore other "night birds" that were starting out on a raid. The flightto the front lines was quickly made and without incident of note. Infact, not an enemy plane arose in the air to oppose the attackingsquadron until the leading flyers were directly over No Man's Land,brilliantly illuminated with the fireworks of battle, and then somethinghappened that must have thrilled every aviator who witnessed it,accustomed though he was almost daily to thrills that make the life of asoldier on land or a Jackie of the navy seem like a tame existence incomparison.
Suddenly there was an upheaval of earth almost directly below him,followed by another and another in quick succession; then a regularconcert of upheavals in almost a straight line, and a very long line atthat, evidently, even to a pair of eyes looking down from a great heightin the air. There was a magnitude in the scene that could not bemistaken, although the ridge of land that was visible only a few momentsbefore looked like little more than an elongated anthill.
"My goodness!" Irving exclaimed, though the noise of the motor and thepropeller and the rush of air about him made it impossible for him tohear himself. "My goodness! they've actually blown up Vimy Ridge."
The machine swept on with the flock of mechanical war-birds, on over NoMan's Land and past the enemy front lines. Meanwhile Irving gazed down,fascinated by the scene far, far below. It was a scene of the mostdiminutive dwarfs now. The trenches looked like little more than penscratches on a dim-colored sheet, certainly not more than chalk marks,of no particular color, on a "faded blackboard." And the people--thesoldiers! Yes, he could see them now, in large numbers. They lookedlike ants--no, let's not understate it,--they looked like mice, smallmice, however; and they arose--on the Canadian side--out of the "chalkmarks" and dashed forward, a very short distance, it seemed, only a fewinches or feet at the most, but they chopped off their steps so shortthat they appeared just to creep along. Irving was astonished at theclearness of the night scene under the battle's illumination.
But they made it finally, up the side of the hill, if indeed any hillremained, and into the crater--Irving could see an altered conditionfollowing the trinitrotoluol explosions, and concluded that there mustbe a long, a very long, crater--miles of it--in the place of Vimy Ridge.They were cheering like mad--Irving knew it, though he could not hear avoice. Yes, into the crater they went, a myriad of insects, or weeanimals,--they had possession of it--the enemy seemed not to offer anyresistance. They were whipped, thoroughly--they knew it. Tons and tonsof high explosive planted under that ridge had blown it to the sky.
"No, it didn't, either," Irving mused with a smile of "altitudeamusement." "It was only a flash in the pan. Not a pebble came half ashigh as we are, and the sky is hundreds of miles--umph! How much higheris it? My! if the world could only get up here and look at itself, Iwonder if things wouldn't go a little differently. No, I'm afraid not!There'd always be somebody then trying to grab a bigger slice of themoon than he's entitled to.
"But what am I thinking about? My head must be getting giddy. Thatwon't do a bit. I'm on very serious business. The bombing planes arehovering over the rear line trenches and dropping their flower-pots on'em. The anti-aircraft guns are getting busy, too. There went oneright ahead of us. They're getting our range. And here comes a fleetof German planes to meet us. Well, it won't be safe to wait very long,and it won't be fair to my pilot. Just as soon as we get well beyondthat third trench there, I'll take my plunge."
Irving set himself fixedly as if about to make a mighty leap or apistol-shot start in a foot race. As a matter of fact, he was going todo nothing of the kind. Only a sort of passive effort was required ofhim, and yet, his nerves had never been more tense. He put his righthand on the release lever and leaned forward, his left hand almosttouching the pilot, and looked down over the side of the car, then offtoward the approaching enemy squadron, then at the camouflaged positionsof the belching anti-aircraft guns, then here and there at the explodingshells in the midst of the invading fleet, then back again at the groundscene directly below.
Suddenly he leaned farther forward and slapped his hand smartly on thepilot's shoulder. The latter nodded and turned the nose of the skymachine downward. This was Irving's cue. He leaned back and pulled therelease lever as far as it would go.
*CHAPTER XXII*
*BEHIND THE GERMAN LINES*
The "escape" was successful in every respect. The boy rocked to and froall the way down, like a cork on a billowy sea. Down, down he went, thescene continuing, in the glare of innumerable lights of the battle,almost as bright as day. Irving could see cl
early where he was going,although it was just beyond the zone of blazing activities. Between thechosen landing place and the fighting terrain was a small belt oftimber, but the surroundings were lighted so brilliantly that thegeneral character and lay of the land could be determined even from aheight of several thousand feet.
Reinforcements were being rushed forward from points farther in therear. Irving could see a wave of men advancing toward the lighted area.It looked as if attempts were being made to retake the hill, or what wasleft of it. Undoubtedly the enemy had lost heavily as a result of thevolcanic explosions and the need of reserves was pressing at the front.
Irving landed right in the midst of a company of advancing men. Thelieutenant called a halt and remained long enough to make inquiry as tothe meaning of the parachute descent. The boy replied in fairly goodGerman that he was a spy in the service of the emperor, and asked to bedirected to regimental, divisional or army headquarters. The officerassigned a sergeant to accompany the "arrival from the sky" and, after atramp of more than an hour over a highway on which they had to dodgecamions and autos and motorcycles and troops almost as watchfully as onemust dodge heavy traffic in a warehouse district in a large city, theyarrived at a small town where they found a brigadier general'sheadquarters in what had formerly been the chief municipal building ofthe place.
Lieutenant Ellis was taken in charge here by an intelligence attache,who, observing the Canadian uniform worn by the boy, questioned him asto his identity and mission. Irving was greatly pleased, as theconversation progressed, to find that he understood almost everythinghis inquisitor said and could answer intelligibly all the questions putto him. The conversation, freely translated into English, was asfollows:
"Who are you?"
"My name is Hessenburg. I am a second lieutenant in the Canadian army.But I am a Prussian sympathizer and the bearer of a message from agentsof Emperor William working secretly for him on the other side of theAtlantic ocean."
"To whom is the message addressed?"
"I don't know. It is in cipher."
"Then how are you going to find the person to whom it should bedelivered?"
"I was informed that any high officer in the German army, from brigadiergeneral up, could tell me what to do the instant he heard my story."
"How did you get past the Canadian and German lines without beingcaptured; or did you surrender in battle?"
"No, although that was my plan at first. I managed to get into the airservice temporarily and dropped with a parachute, from an aeroplane inthe midst of a big battle after we got over on this side."
The intelligence attache uttered a guttural something that sounded likean oath. From the tone and facial expression accompanying it, Irvingmentally translated the ejaculation into the much milder, "You don't sayso!"
"That's true," interposed the sergeant who accompanied Irving from thescene of his descent. "I saw him come down. The lieutenant of mycompany ordered me to bring him here."
"If all this is true, I suppose you'll have to see the general," theattache concluded. "Just wait here and I'll find out how long you'llhave to wait. You say your message is important?"
"I haven't read it," the spy answered; "but I was informed that it wasvery important. I think you'd better help me get it to him as soon aspossible."
The attache left Irving and his companion seated on a long bench in theorderly room and entered the adjutant's office. A few minutes later hecame out again and announced that the message was "on its way to thegeneral" and an order to "come in" would probably come out in a shorttime.
The "short time" was more than two hours, however. The brigadiergeneral had been napping. Ordinarily his night repose might fittinglyhave been called sleep, but the taking of Vimy Ridge rendered any suchpeaceful term inappropriate. It is probable, indeed, that there werenaps for few German officers of whatever rank, attached to that sector,on the night of the great battle on the Canadian front. At any rate,this officer was one of the few, and he awoke at break of day. One ofthe first matters brought to his attention was the arrival of a spy fromAmerica with an important message.
"Bring him in," he ordered.
A minute later Irving was standing before a very burly and very fiercelooking individual in the uniform of a high commanding officer andsaluting him with an appearance of self-confidence, in spite of a mostprovoking nervousness that unexpectedly seized him.
*CHAPTER XXIII*
*OFF FOR BERLIN*
Irving Ellis recovered his composure and his nervousness left him infull control of his faculties as he answered the first question put tohim by the brigadier general. It was a very simple question, thus:
"You are Second Lieutenant Hessenburg of the Canadian army?"
"I am."
"But a subject of Kaiser Wilhelm?"
"No, I am not," Irving replied. "I'm a subject of Great Britain, for myfather was naturalized in Canada. But my sympathies are over here andwhen I am old enough, you'll find my citizenship where it ought alwayshave been."
"There, I got a little truth into my bunch of lies," Irving interpolatedto himself. "My citizenship will be where it always ought to have been,and was, and is, and always will be, as long as I live--in the UnitedStates. I spoke with a double tongue and satisfied my own conscience atthe end. Oh, I can see that I'm going to be some prevaricator beforethis adventure is finished. Really, it never occurred to me before, buta spy must have the biggest imagination on earth to be successful.However, it's a good cause, that's some consolation."
Before the boy finished this soliloquy, the brigadier general was askinganother question:
"And you were sent here by some of our agents in Canada?"
"Yes."
"With a message?"
"Yes."
"Let me see it."
Irving took off his coat and rolled up his left shirtsleeve, exposing toview the "cubist art" tattooing recently pricked into the skin withsharp pointed needles and aniline dye. The brigadier general gazed atit with deep interest two or three times; then looked into the spy'sface and said:
"You're all right. You must go to Berlin at once."
He contemplated the hieroglyphic oddity a minute longer and then said:
"My curiosity is keen to know how you got over here."
"I flew over," Irving replied.
"How could you manage that? Were you in the air service?"
"Yes, during the last few weeks. I was out with a pilot last night andslipped away with a parachute in the heat of the battle."
It was the brigadier general's turn now to utter something of theexplosive character of an oath. As Irving's schooling and recent drillin the Teutonic tongue did not comprehend such ultra-rhetorical figuresof speech, he did not get the full significance of the expletive.
But it was evident that the officer's outburst was anything but anexpression of anger. Admiration popped into his eyes and spoke out ofthem in "violent harmony" with his oath. But this overflowingendorsement of the spy's activities was suddenly interrupted by a changeof manner that caused Irving a little uneasiness as a new thought tookpossession of the burly military man's mind.
"What do you suppose they think about you now over in the Canadianlines? They're onto you now, aren't they? If we want you to return onanother mission over there, you've spoiled the game by your manner ofescape, haven't you? How could you explain it if they put you on thegrill?"
"That'll be very easy," Irving replied. "I waited for the rightconditions. We got into a fight with a couple of German planes and itwas looking pretty bad for us. Then a shell from an anti-aircraft gunexploded so near to us that it seemed impossible for us to have escapedserious damage. Well, two seconds later I saw the pilot was havingtrouble with his engine; so I concluded it was time for me to take mydeparture."
The look of gleeful admiration returned to the officer's face.
"You handled it well, very well," he said, with a
disagreeable, gloatinglaugh.
Irving's sentiments, however, were of much different nature. He wasthoroughly disgusted with his own "string of falsehoods," as hecharacterized the stories he had told to the intelligence attache andthe brigadier general.
"I know very well that a spy is a personified fib, pure and simple," hetold himself with a reflective compression of his lips. "I don't thinkit's any worse than that, and I don't think the stories I told were anyworse than fibs. A spy is just a misrepresentation walking around ontwo feet. If he doesn't tell a single fib, it's his business to makethe enemy think he's something he isn't. If he does this for a badcause, he's a bad man; if he does it for a worthy cause, he's a goodman, not because he fibs, but because of the cause he misrepresents. Solong as he doesn't misrepresent the cause, he ought to be all right.Still, the world will admire him more if he's smart enough to get whathe wants without telling any downright li--fibs like the ones I told.I'm going to see if I can't get along hereafter without fibbing."
Irving worked this reasoning out in his mind as the conversation withthe officer proceeded. He was much relieved also on finding that he wasable to answer all succeeding questions without resorting to any grossmisstatements of facts. At last the brigadier general closed theinterview by saying:
"I'll excuse you for the time being. Meanwhile I'll communicate with mysuperior officers and you'll wait under orders of the adjutant forinstructions from me."
Irving returned to the orderlies' room. He had not eaten breakfast andinformed an officer of the hungry condition of his stomach. Thisresulted in his being turned over to an orderly who conducted him to theofficers' mess, where he was served with a very good meal.