CHAPTER XV
THE BOGGED LANDSHIP
FULL speed ahead represented a speed of nearly ten miles an hour, nottaking into consideration detours and slowing down to avoid cratersand other obstructions. Henricourt Farm, Ralph found by consultinghis large scale map, was approximately two miles away, and on theeastern slope of Vimy Ridge. Barring accidents, the Tank ought to beon the spot in fifteen minutes.
Already the motor-cyclist dispatch-rider was speeding over the roughground on his return journey. Setley could not help admiring thepluck and determination of the man. Not only had he to avoidshell-holes, heaps of debris and stray strands of barbed wire, butthe while desultory shells from the German long-distance guns were"watering" the ground in a vain hope of checking the irresistibleBritish advance.
Even as Ralph looked a projectile struck the ground almost under thedispatch-rider's front wheel. With a lurid flash the shell burst,throwing masses of earth in all directions. Through theyellowish-green smoke the subaltern had a momentary glimpse of themotor-bike flying in one direction, the rider in another.
"Gone West, poor fellow," thought Ralph; but almost the next instantthe man picked himself up and staggered towards the prostratemachine. The motor-cycle had finished its career. It consisted mostlyof a tangled mass of steel and a grotesquely bent petrol tank.
"We'll have that fellow in," said Setley to his sergeant--atrustworthy non-com. of the name of Archer. "Tell him to look sharpabout it."
Although the sergeant shouted at the top of his stentorian voice tothe dispatch-rider he paid no attention. Either the roar of thedistant guns drowned his words, or else the man had been rendereddeaf by the concussion. To remain there in the open was to courtdeath from bullets which were "plonking" sullenly into the soddenearth.
"Shell-shock, sir, that's what it is," declared Sergeant Archer."I'll fetch him in."
A shell bursting eighty yards away sent fragments rattling harmlesslyon the Tank's armoured side. The dispatch-rider never turned hishead. It was a clear proof that he had lost his sense of hearing.
Descending from the comparative security of the landship Archer racedacross the intervening distance. It was not until he touched theunfortunate man on the shoulder that the latter was aware of hispresence. He stared vacantly at the non-com., then pointed to thewreckage of his motor-cycle, but although his lips moved he wasunable to utter a sound. It was a bad case of shell-shock. Withoutsustaining visible injury, he had been deprived of both speech andhearing.
Archer pointed towards the waiting Tank, but the man obstinatelyshook his head and turned his attention once more to the smashedmotor-cycle.
"It's nah-poo!" yelled the non-com. "You come along with me at once."
The vocal effect was completely thrown away, and when Archer grippedthe man's arm the dispatch-rider resisted strenuously.
Just then another motor-cyclist dashed up. He was riding with a setpurpose, and could not stop to see what was wrong. Crippledmotor-bikes were too common objects. Like the Levite, he passed by onthe other side.
Close behind came another motor-cyclist He evidently was returning,having accomplished his errand, and was merely indulging in afriendly "speed-burst" with the other man. Slowing down he came to astandstill, and surveyed the wrecked machine.
"What's wrong, chum?" he asked inconsequently.
"He's got shell-shock, and is as obstinate as a mule," declaredArcher.
There was method in his obstinacy, for seeing one of his own men thedisabled dispatch-rider fumbled in his pouch and produced a sealedenvelope.
The new-comer glanced at the address and the endorsement, "Highlyurgent!"
"All right, chum; I'll see to it," said the man, and with a flyingstart he leapt into his saddle and rode furiously away.
A look of satisfaction spread over the face of the speechlessmotor-cyclist, then, staggering, he fell unconscious into the arms ofSergeant Archer, as a shell whizzing a couple of feet over thenon-com.'s head buried itself deep in the ground, fortunately withoutexploding.
Willing hands relieved the sergeant of his burden and lifted theunconscious soldier into the Tank. A precious three minutes had beenlost, but, did Ralph but know it, the retransmission of the dispatchwas of far more vital importance than the work of succouring thestranded landship.
But by the time Setley's Tank arrived upon the scene the situationwas serious enough. The bogged consort was lying on the floor of avertical pit twenty feet in depth--a cunningly devised trap right infront of a hitherto masked position, where nearly a hundred of thePrussian Guard, supported by a strong machine-gun detachment, stillheld out.
Into the pit the Huns were lobbing bombs galore. These did but littledamage, although the fumes were trying the crew of the trappedmammoth very severely, and, to make matters worse, the enemy hadbrought up a liquid flame apparatus from an undemolished dug-out andwere about to squirt a fiery stream upon the helpless and haplessTankers.
In front of the position lay between forty and fifty dead or woundedHighlanders--reserves, who, caught in the open while advancing insupport of an Irish battalion, had been surprised and mown down bymachine-gun fire. The wily Prussians had lain low when the first waveof British had swept over their trenches, and by one of thoseinexplicable omissions a detachment had not been left to consolidateand clear up the captured ground.
Several of the wounded Jocks frantically cheered the oncoming Tank,at the same time shouting warnings that there was a pitfall in front.Some of them actually staggered to their feet, and grasping theirrifles followed the ponderous landship as it approached the ridgeheld by the men of the Prussian Guard.
Almost at the brink of the exposed trap Setley brought his command toa halt. While the quickfirers and machine-guns replied mosteffectually to the Boches' fire the subaltern examined from theinterior of the Tank the nature and extent of the barrier that laybetwixt him and the enemy.
The pit measured roughly fifty feet by thirty. A little less thanhalf of the covering still remained--fir planks covered with a fewinches of clay that harmonized with the surrounding ground. Unlessthe Huns had constructed another pitfall alongside this one, it wouldbe practicable to pass it by keeping a few yards to the left.
The roof of the trapped Tank was plainly visible, but there were nosigns of any of her crew. In their unenviable position they could donothing in self-defence. The edge of the pit intervened between themuzzles of the Tank's guns and the hostile trench, but this did notprevent the Huns hurling their bombs over the parapet into the pit.
There was no chance of extricating the snared mastodon. Unlike theone that was towed out of action when Setley, then a mere private,played such a daring part, the Tank was penned in by the fourvertical sides of the deep cavity--climbing a vertical wall of stiffclay is one of the accomplishments that a Tank cannot do. Later on,when the foe were cleared away, gangs of men would be set to work todig an inclined plane, up which the ponderous machine would be ableto climb to the open ground.
Heaving a sigh of relief as his command safely negotiated the passagepast the hidden end of the obstruction, Ralph steered straight forthe strongly held earthwork. The Huns, working fervently to get theirdiabolical fire-squirting apparatus in order, held their ground.Seeking cover behind sand-bags hastily thrown across the floor of thetrench, and crouching in the concreted entrances to their dug-outs,they hailed bullets against the avenging Tank's blunt, armour-platednose. Bombs, too, burst with an appalling clatter above and below thestupendous moving fortress.
The crew gave good measure in exchange. With their machine-gunsspitting venomously and the quickfirers barking loudly the Britishaccounted for numbers of their foes, while the Tank set to worksystematically to level the barbed wire and flatten out the parapetof sand-bags.
In their puny rage several of the Huns closed round the Tank. Immunefrom the fire of her machine-guns they rained blows with axes at hertractor-bands, and even attempted to check the resistless, crushingmotion by means of crossbars. All in vain: like a hippop
otamus besetwith a swarm of flies the Tank continued its dignified progress,levelling all that came in its way; until with the now monotonous cryof "Kamerad," the surviving Prussians surrendered.
"Let a couple of Jocks take 'em back, sir," suggested SergeantArcher. "All the stuffing's knocked out of them, I guess."
A few slightly wounded Highlanders cheerfully accepted thecommission. Thirty badly scared Prussian Guardsmen, deprived of theirarms and accoutrements, meekly submitted to be marched off under theescort of the indomitable Scotsmen, while in order to ingratiatethemselves with their captors the Huns voluntarily carried several ofthe British wounded to the advanced dressing stations.
Setley's next task was to render what assistance he could to the crewof the bogged Tank. Already the crew, finding that the mildbombardment with bombs had ceased, had emerged from their metal-boxand were somewhat ruefully surveying the unclimbable walls of theirprison.
"Hullo, Danvers!" shouted Ralph. "Sorry you've had ill-luck. We'llfind a means to haul you out; but your bus must wait, I'm afraid."
Cautiously, and with his revolver ready for instant action, SergeantArcher, accompanied by two of the crew, descended into a dug-out, theentrance of which was not blocked sufficiently to prevent squeezingthrough. Within were half a dozen dead Huns--killed instantly by theconcussion of a high-explosive shell, yet without a wound on them.Apparently, the dug-out formed the engineers' store, for there weretools in plenty, including mattocks, spades, sectional ladders, andropes.
Returning with his find, the sergeant was about to report upon hissuccess when a bomb hurtled through the air. Instantly the three menthrew themselves flat on their faces, while a second later themissile exploded without doing them harm beyond covering them withmud and dust.
Starting to his feet, Archer levelled his revolver. He was at a lossto discover the whereabouts of the thrower. It seemed as if themissile had been projected from the Tank, until a burst ofmachine-gun fire leapt from her side into the wall of earth withinthree feet from the muzzle of the gun.
The landship had come to a stop immediately opposite the mouth of adug-out which had been so badly battered that the timber props wereleaning together like an inverted V. Within a desperate Hun stilllurked, and finding Archer and the two men in the open he had hurleda bomb in the hope of strafing the Englishmen.
"Hands up!" shouted Archer, flattening himself against the bank ofearth by the entrance of the dug-out and firing a couple of shotsinto the cavernous recess by way of adding weight to his words.
There was no reply.
"That Maxim laid the blighter out, sergeant," suggested one of themen.
"I won't chance my arm on that," declared Archer. "Hand me thatspade."
Removing his steel helmet, the non-com. placed it on the handle ofthe spade and thrust it carefully in front of the partly blockedtunnel. Again there was no response to the silent invitation. Archerrepeated the tactics, this time exposing a little more of his metalhead-dress.
A rifle-shot rang out. The helmet was completely perforated by thebullet.
"All right, Fritz," exclaimed the sergeant. "If you won't give inlike a sensible fellow we'll have to rout you out. I've a smoke-bombready."
"Is that an English officer who speaks?" enquired the lurking German.
"A British sergeant--quite good enough for a Boche to argue with,"retorted Archer. "So you speak English? Come out and surrender.That's plain enough, and you know it."
"What's happening, sergeant?" asked Setley, who, screened by theimmense bulk of his Tank from the Hun's lair, had been conversingwith Danvers.
"There's a Boche in this dug-out, sir," reported the non-com. "Becareful, sir; he chucked a bomb out just now. I believe he's anofficer, because he enquired if he was chewing his rag to a Britishofficer."
"I officer am," interposed the unseen. "To you I make surrender."
"Right-o," replied Ralph. "Out you come."
The head and shoulders of a Prussian appeared. Setley stepped forwardto receive his prisoner, when with a curse the treacherous Hun hurleda bomb full at the face of the subaltern.
With outstretched hand Archer intercepted the flying missile andhurled it whence it came, where it exploded with a hollow vibration.
"Good thing I'm a cricketer, sir," he remarked. "That ought to havesettled the swine's hash. There's no trusting a Prussian."
"Don't," ordered Ralph, as the non-com. was about to investigate."We'll run no unnecessary risks, but the blighter must be accountedfor. Where's a smoke-bomb?"
The Prussian officer was still alive. The mention of the word"smoke-bomb" made him find his tongue. He had very strong objectionsto being driven from his shelter like a rat from its hole. It was hewho had ordered the liquid fire apparatus to be brought to play uponthe bogged Tank, and now, when threatened with efficacious butcomparatively humane measures, he asserted that the British soldierswere taking a mean advantage.
"You've put yourself out of court," exclaimed Setley. "For yourtreachery you deserve to be exterminated; but we'll give you anotherchance. Come out and we'll give you quarter. Any attempt at yourlow-down games and you'll be shot down."
The Hun hesitated. Having no regard for his own plighted word, he haddoubts concerning the British officer's pledge.
"I will not surrender make," he shouted almost spluttering in hisrage. "This a magazine is. If you a smoke-bomb throw den I fire derpowder an' blow you and your landship to pieces."
"We'll risk that," replied Ralph coolly.
The bomb was tossed into the mouth of the dug-out. Nauseating,pungent fumes wafted out. For thirty seconds there was no sign of thePrussian. With their revolvers ready, Ralph and the sergeant crouchedby the side of the flattened trench.
Suddenly a grey-coated figure dashed through the asphyxiating smoke.Temporarily blinded by the vapour, well nigh suffocated, the Prussianfloundered into the open air, until his bent head came into violentcontact with the side of the Tank. Like a felled ox he dropped uponthe ground.
"Blessed if he isn't the very image of Little Willie, sir," remarkedthe sergeant, turning the Prussian over with his boot.
"He certainly looks a mental degenerate," agreed Ralph. "Here, stopthose men. Let them carry him in."
A batch of thirty prisoners, under the escort of an imperturbableTommy, came trudging across the open. They were Saxons; perhaps thataccounted for the rough handling they accorded the Prussian officer.
"I've seen the last of that gentleman, I hope," remarked Setley."You've found a rope? And ladders, too, I see. Look alive there."
Danvers and his men were soon extricated from the pitfall. With themwas a German colonel, a tall, sparely built man, who was tremblingviolently in every limb.
"We hauled him out of a dug-out on our way up," explained Danvers."The old bus squatted right over the entrance, and this cheerful Hunsurrendered. We couldn't send him back. There were no men availablefor that job. Besides, there was a pretty hot machine-gun fire justthen; so we hauled him on board. We hadn't gone a couple of hundredyards when the colonel josser began to get jumpy. He jabbered away ashard as he could, but as I don't understand the beastly Hun jargon Itold him to shut up. After all, he was trying to tell me we wereblundering into a trap--not out of consideration for us, youunderstand, but because he didn't relish the big bump. It was his owncowardly carcase of which he was thinking.
"Then came the big bump. Talk about peas in a box. They weren't init. Thought the Tank was going to turn upside down, but she pitchedon her nose with a terrific whump, and then settled down on an evenbase.
"For nearly an hour the Boches bombed us. At first it was a jollydisconcerting experience, and our Hun started shouting to the bombersto stop it--the skunk! Imagine our fellows doing that. Finding thatnothing happened he quieted down a bit, until he suddenly danced upand down regardless of the fact that he was bumping his pig-headedskull against the roof girders. In his raving I caught the word_Flammenwerfer_ several times, so I was forced to come to theunpleasant conclusion t
hat the Huns were going to strafe us withliquid fire. Then your bus rolled up and put the lid on. The rest youknow."