Produced by Al Haines [Illustration: Dust cover art] [Illustration: Cover art] [Frontispiece: "OF WHAT OFFENCE AM I ACCUSED, SIR?" _Page_ 202. _Frontispiece_] The Dispatch-Riders The Adventures of Two British Motor-cyclists in the Great War BY PERCY F. WESTERMAN Author of "Rivals of the Reef" "The Sea-girt Fortress" &c. &c. _Illustrated by F. Gillett_ BLACKIE & SON LIMITED LONDON AND GLASGOW 1915 By Percy F. Westerman The Red Pirate. The Call of the Sea. Standish of the Air Police. Sleuths of the Air. The Black Hawk. Andy All-Alone. The Westow Talisman. The White Arab. The Buccaneers of Boya. Rounding up the Raider. Captain Fosdyke's Gold. In Defiance of the Ban. The Senior Cadet. The Amir's Ruby. The Secret of the Plateau. Leslie Dexter, Cadet. All Hands to the Boats. A Mystery of the Broads. Rivals of the Reef. A Shanghai Adventure. The Junior Cadet. Captain Starlight. The Sea-Girt Fortress. On the Wings of the Wind. Captain Blundell's Treasure. The Third Officer. Unconquered Wings. The Riddle of the Air. Chums of the "Golden Vanity". Clipped Wings. Rocks Ahead! King for a Month. The Disappearing Dhow. The Luck of the "Golden Dawn". The Salving of the "Fusi Yama". Winning his Wings. A Lively Bit of the Front. The Good Ship "Golden Effort". East in the "Golden Gain". The Quest of the "Golden Hope". Sea Scouts Abroad. Sea Scouts Up-Channel. The Wireless Officer. A Lad of Grit. The Submarine Hunters. Sea Scouts All. The Thick of the Fray at Zeebrugge. A Sub and a Submarine. Under the White Ensign. With Beatty off Jutland. The Dispatch Riders. _Printed in Great Britain by Blackie & Son, Ltd., Glasgow_ Contents CHAP. I. THE COMING STORM II. A BREAK-DOWN III. MAJOR RÉSIMONT IV. ENLISTED V. A BAPTISM OF FIRE VI. A VAIN ASSAULT VII. DISABLING A TAUBE VIII. IN BRITISH UNIFORMS IX. A MIDNIGHT RETIREMENT X. THE UHLAN PATROL XI. THE RAID ON TONGRES XII. THE MAIL ESCORT XIII. SEPARATED XIV. A FRIEND IN NEED XV. CAPTURED XVI. ENTOMBED XVII. THE WAY OUT XVIII. THROUGH THE ENEMY'S LINES XIX. ARRESTED AS SPIES XX. STRANDED IN BRUSSELS XXI. DENOUNCED XXII. THE SACK OF LOUVAIN XXIII. A BOLT FROM THE BLUE XXIV. ACROSS THE FRONTIER XXV. THELMA EVEREST XXVI. SELF-ACCUSED XXVII. WITH THE NAVAL BRIGADE AT ANTWERP XXVIII. WHEN THE CITY FELL XXIX. ON THE NORTH SEA XXX. THE VICTORIOUS WHITE ENSIGN Illustrations "OF WHAT OFFENCE AM I ACCUSED, SIR?" . . . . . . . . . _Frontispiece_ KENNETH HAD A MOMENTARY GLIMPSE OF THE UHLAN'S PANIC-STRICKEN FACE ... THEN CRASH! KENNETH SUCCEEDED IN THROWING THE SPY TO THE FLOOR THE DISPATCH-RIDERS CHAPTER I The Coming Storm "Let's make for Liége," exclaimed Kenneth Everest. "What's that?" asked his chum, Rollo Harrington. "Liége? What on earth possesses you to suggest Liége? A crowded manufacturing town, with narrow streets and horrible _pavé_. I thought we decided to fight shy of heavy traffic?" The two speakers were seated at an open window of the Hôtel Doré, in the picturesque town of Dinant. In front of them flowed the Meuse; its placid water rippled with craft of varying sizes. Huge barges, towed by snorting tugs, were laboriously passing along the busy international waterway that serves an empire, a kingdom, and a republic. On the remote bank, and to the right of a bridge, were the quaint red-tiled houses of the town, above which rose the fantastic, pinnacled tower of the thirteenth-century church of Notre Dame, in turn overshadowed by the frowning limestone crag on which stands the citadel. Kenneth was a well-set-up English youth of seventeen. He was tall for his age, and withal broad-shouldered and well-knit. His features were dark, his skin burnt a deep tan by reason of more than a nodding acquaintance with an open-air life. In character and action he was impulsive. He had the happy knack of making up his mind on the spur of the moment, and yet at the same time forming a fairly sound judgment. He was quick, too, with his fingers, having been gifted with a keen, mechanical turn of mind. Rollo Barrington, who was his companion's junior by the space of three days, was rather the reverse of his versatile friend. He was shorter in height by a good four inches; he was slightly built, although he possessed an unlooked-for reserve of physical strength and endurance. He was fresh-complexioned, with blue eyes and wavy chestnut hair. If Kenneth acted upon impulse, Rollo went by rule of thumb. He was cool and calculating when occasion served; but when in the company of his chum he was generally content to allow his will to be dominated by the impetuous Everest. Both lads were at St. Cyprian's--a public school of note in the Home Counties. The vacation started about the middle of July, and it was the custom for the senior members to put in a fortnight's camp with the Officers' Training Corps during the latter part of that month. At the time this story opens--the first day of August, 1914--the two chums were on a motor-cycling tour through Northern France and Belgium. The parents of neither had offered any objection when their respective sons announced their intention of wandering through the high-roads and by-roads of that part of the Continent. Kenneth had sprung the suggestion upon his father like the proverbial bombshell; and Mr. Everest, who was largely responsible for his son's impetuosity, merely acquiesced by observing: "You lucky young dog! I didn't have the chance when I was your age. Well, I hope you'll have a good time." On his part Rollo had broached the subject with his customary deliberation, and Colonel Barrington had not only given his consent, but had gone to the extreme toil of producing maps and a Baedeker, and had mapped out a route--to which neither of the lads had adhered. The Colonel also realized that there was a considerable amount of self-education to be derived from the tour. There was nothing like travel, he declared, to expand the mind; following up this statement by the practical action of "forking out", thereby relieving his son of any fear of pecuniary embarrassment. Both lads rode identically similar motor-cycles--tourist models, of 3-½ horse-power, fitted with three-speed hubs. But again the difference in character manifested itself in the care of their respective steeds. Rollo had been a motor-cyclist ever since he was fourteen--as soon as he was qualified in point of age to obtain a driver's licence. The close attention he bestowed upon his motor-bike never varied; he kept it as clean as he did in the first few days after taking over his new purchase. He had thoroughly mastered its peculiarities, and studied both the theory and practice of its mechanism. Kenneth Everest had first bestrode the saddle of a motor-cycle a week before their Continental tour began. No doubt his experience as a "push-cyclist" helped him considerably; he quickly mastered the use of the various controls, without troubling to find out "how it worked". With his companion's knowledge at his back he felt quite at ease, since, in the event of any mechanical break-down, Rollo would point out the fault, and Kenneth's ready fingers would either do or undo the rest. But so far, with the exception of a few tyre troubles, both motor-cyclists had done remarkably well. Landing at Havre, they had pushed on, following the route taken by the English army that had won Agincourt. This, by the by, was Rollo's suggestion. From the site of the historic battle-field they had sped eastward, through Arras, St. Quentin, and Mézières. Here, finding themselves in the valley of the Meuse, they had turned northward, and passing through the French frontier fortress of Givet, entered Belgium, spending the first night on Belgian soil in picturesque Dinant. Hitherto they had overcome the initial difficulty that confronts British road users in France--the fact that all traffic keeps, or is supposed to keep, to the right. They had endured the horrible and seemingly never-ending cobbles or _pavé_. The language presented little difficulty, for Kenneth, prior to having joined St. Cyprian's, had been educated in Paris; and although his Parisian accent differed somewhat from the patois of the Ardennes, he had very little trouble in making himself understood. Rollo, too, was a fairly proficient French linguist, since, in view of his future military career, he had applied himself with his usual diligence to the study of the language. "I say, what's this wheeze about Liége?" persisted Harrington. "There's something in the wind, old chap." "It's not exactly Liége I want to see," replied Kenneth, "although it's a fine, interesting old place, with a history. Fact is, my sister Thelma is at a boarding-school at Visé--that's only a few miles farther on--and we might just as well look her up." "By Jove! I ought to have remembered. I knew she was somewhere in Belgium. Let me see, she's your youngest sister?" "Twelve months my junior," replied Kenneth, "and a jolly good pal she is, too. It's rather rough luck on her. The pater's just off on that Mediterranean trip, so she hasn't been able to go home for the holidays. We'll just cheer her up a bit." Rollo gave a final glance at the map before folding it and placing it in his pocket. In response to a summons, the garçon produced the bill and gratefully accepted the modest tip that Everest bestowed upon him with becoming public schoolboy dignity. This done, the two lads took their travelling cases and made their way to the hotel garage, where their motor-cycles had been placed under lock and key, out of the reach of sundry inquisitive and mischievous Belgian gamins. "Hello! What's the excitement?" asked Kenneth, pointing to a crowd of gesticulating townsfolk gathered round a notice that had just been pasted to a wall. "Ask me another," rejoined his companion. "A circus or something of the sort about to turn up, I suppose. If you're curious I'll hang on here while you go and find out." Kenneth was off like a shot. Half-way across the bridge that here spans the Meuse he nearly collided with the proprietor of the Hôtel Doré. The man's face was red with excitement. "Quel dommage!" he exclaimed, in reply to the lad's unspoken question. "The Government has ordered the army to mobilize. What inconsideration! Jules, Michel, Georges, and Étienne--all will have to go. I shall be left without a single garçon. And the busy season approaches also." "Why is the army to be mobilized, then?" "Ciel! I know not. We Belgians do not require soldiers. We are men of peace. Has not our neutrality been guaranteed by our neighbours? And, notwithstanding, the Government must have men to vie with the French _piou-piou_, give them rifles, and put them in uniforms at the expense of the community. It is inconceivable!" The proprietor, unable to contain his feelings, rushed back to the hotel, while Kenneth, still wishing to satisfy his curiosity by ocular demonstration, made his way to the edge of the semicircular crowd of excited townsfolk. The proclamation, dated the 31st day of July, was an order for partial mobilization, calling up the First Division of the Reserves. No reason was given, and the lack of it, rather than the fact that the order had to be obeyed, was the subject of general comment. From the nature of the conversation the lad gathered that military service was not regarded by the Belgians in anything approaching a tolerant spirit. "Nothing much; only a mobilization," announced Everest in reply to his companion's enquiry. "Let's make a move. We may see something of the Belgian troops. It would be rather interesting to see how they take to playing at soldiering." "Why playing?" asked Rollo as he proceeded to secure his valise to the carrier. "What else would you expect from Belgians?" rejoined Kenneth. "Even old Gallipot--or whatever the hotel proprietor's name is--was grumbling about the uselessness of the business, and most of those johnnies over there are of the same opinion. No, Rollo, take my word for it, the Belgians are not a fighting race. Let me see--didn't they skedaddle at Waterloo and almost let our fellows down?" "They may have done," remarked Rollo. "But that's nearly a century old. Ready?" With half-closed throttles, and tyres sufficiently soft to absorb most of the shocks, the young tourists bumped over the _pavé_, swung round, and soon settled down to a modest fifteen miles an hour along the Namur road. For the best part of the journey the Meuse, with its limestone crags and dense foliage, was within a few yards on their right, while trees on either side of the road afforded a pleasant shade from the fierce rays of the sun. The dust, too, rose in dense clouds whenever, as frequently happened, a motor-car tore past, or a flock of frightened sheep scampered madly all across the road. At Namur their wishes regarding the Belgian troops were gratified. The narrow street swarmed with soldiers and civil guards. There were men with head-dresses resembling the busbies of the British guardsmen, leading teams of dogs harnessed to light quick-firing "Berthier" guns; infantry who, in spite of the broiling heat, wore heavy greatcoats; cavalry whose mounts were powerful enough to evoke the admiration of the critical Kenneth. "I wonder what all this fuss is about," he exclaimed. Before Rollo could furnish any remark a little Belgian officer accosted them. "You gentlemen are English, without doubt?" "We are." "It then is well," continued the officer, speaking in English with considerable fluency. "You have not heard, eh? The news--the grave news?" "No, monsieur." "Germany has declared war upon the Russians." CHAPTER II A Break-down "Is that so?" asked Kenneth. "Then I hope to goodness the Russians will give the Germans a thundering good licking. But why are your troops mobilizing?" The Belgian officer replied by producing a newspaper and pointing to a heavy-leaded column. "You understand our language?" he asked. The report, though a piece of journalistic conjecture, afterwards proved to be very near to the mark. It was to the effect that Germany had declared war against Russia and also France, and that her troops were already pouring over the respective frontiers. To take all necessary precautions the King of the Belgians had ordered a mobilization, and had appealed to King George to assist him in preserving the integrity of his small kingdom. "You'll notice it says that it is reported," observed the cautious Rollo. "By Jove, if it is true, the Kaiser will have a handful. But, monsieur, surely Belgium will be out of it? Her integrity is protected by treaties." The Belgian officer shrugged his shoulders. "Let us hope so," he remarked. "We Belgians have little faith in the honour of a German. Therefore, we arm. Where do you propose to go?" "To Liége, monsieur." "Then do not go. It is not advisable. If you take my advice you return to England as soon as possible. Perhaps, soon, you come back again with a brave English army." "Whatever is the fellow aiming at?" asked Kenneth, after the officer was out of ear-shot. "It's all so very mysterious about nothing." "Do you call war between Germany and France and Russia nothing, old fellow?" "I wasn't referring to that," replied Kenneth. "Of course it is. The Russians will simply walk over Prussia while the Germans are trying to batter the French frontier forts. No; what I meant is, why should we be balked in going to Liége? We'll go, and risk it--though I don't believe there is any risk. If there is, so much the better for us." "Perhaps that Belgian officer knows more than he told us." "Or else less. I'll tell you what, Rollo. We'll see what's doing at Liége; then, if there's time, we'll run back almost to the French frontier and see what the excitement is like there. Let's make another start." The suggestion was quickly put into practice, but progress was tedious and slow. The highway between Namur and Liége was crowded with traffic. Military wagons, both motor-driven and drawn by horses and mules, seemed an unending stream. The rattling of the huge motor-lorries prevented the chauffeurs from hearing any sounds beyond the pulsations of their engines. In vain the two English lads sounded their horns. It was invariably a case of throwing out the clutch and waiting for a favourable moment to dash past, often with a bare yard between the off-side wheel of the powerful lorries and the deep ditch by the side of the road. There were thousands of troops, too, with their supply-carts; swarms of peasants driving cattle into the fortresses; motor-cars, motor-cycles, and ordinary cycles galore, till Rollo remarked, during one of the enforced halts, that it was ten times worse than Barnet Hill on fair night. At length, after taking two hours to traverse fifteen miles, the lads came in sight of the town of Huy. Here the traffic lessened slightly, and Kenneth called for an increased speed. Suddenly Rollo saw his companion's cycle slip from under him. It was all he could do to avoid coming into collision with the prostrate mount. When he pulled up and dismounted, Kenneth was regaining his feet. "Hurt?" asked Barrington laconically, yet with considerable anxiety. "Not a bit," replied Kenneth cheerfully. "Only barked my knuckles. Get up, you brute!" The last remark was addressed to the motor-cycle, which was lying on its side across a rounded stone embedded in the ground on the edge of the footpath. Kenneth found, for the first time, that it required a fair amount of physical energy to restore a fallen motorcycle to its normal position. Thrice he tried a running start, but without success. The motor refused to fire. "Jack it up on its stand," suggested Rollo. "Inject a little petrol into the compression tap and have another shot." Kenneth promptly acted upon this advice, but still without satisfactory result. By this time Rollo had placed his cycle on its stand and was ready to give assistance. "There's no spark," he announced after testing the plug. "I hope it isn't the magneto." With the usual perversity of things in general and motor-cycles in particular, it was the magneto that was out of action. The round stone on which the cycle had fallen had given the delicate mechanism a nasty blow. "This job's beyond me," declared Rollo. "We must see what can be done in the next town. Thank goodness it isn't far. Off with the belt and push her; I won't risk towing you with this traffic about." Already the disabled motor-cycle was surrounded by a crowd of peasants and soldiers, all of whom offered advice; but, as the majority of the onlookers were Walloons, their Flemish tongue was not understood by the two English lads. At length Kenneth managed to get into conversation with a French-speaking corporal, and from him learnt that there was an efficient motor-repairer in Huy, whose place of business faced the market square. It was exhausting work pushing the two motor-bicycles along the undulating, rough cobbled road in the fierce glare of the August sun. The crowd followed. About a quarter of a mile farther along the road a chasseur passed. Reining in his horse he addressed the corporal. "What, then, has happened, Pierre?" The Belgian non-com. shrugged his shoulders. "Only two German tourists, Gaston," he replied. "They have had an accident." "German!" exclaimed Kenneth indignantly. "You are wrong. We are English." "Can Monsieur produce proof?" asked the corporal. Fortunately both lads possessed _permits de circulation_--documents issued to foreign tourists on entering French territory, and which they had not given up at the _douane_ at Givet. On each document was pasted a photograph of the bearer and particulars of his name, nationality, occupation, and place of abode. In less than a minute the indifferent demeanour of the crowd underwent a complete change. Amid shouts of "Vivent les Anglais!" several of the Belgians took possession of the two motor-cycles, and, in spite of frequent wobblings, pushed them right into the town. Here another set-back greeted the tourists. The repairer gravely informed them that a new magneto was absolutely necessary, and since he had not one in stock he would be obliged to send to Brussels for it. Under the circumstances an enforced stay would have to be made at Huy, so the lads booked a room at a modest but cheerful-looking hotel. The town and environs seemed delightfully picturesque, and, although Kenneth chafed under the delay, both lads eventually admitted they might have been hung up in many a worse place than Huy. The next day, Sunday, they were awakened early by a clamour in the street, and found that newsvendors were doing a roaring trade. The papers were full of sensational reports, and although definite news was not forthcoming, it was quite evident that the war clouds were rapidly gathering. Rollo, the cautious, suggested the abandonment of the Liége trip and a hasty return home, but Kenneth set his face against any such proposal. "Look here," he said, "if there's any truth in this report, and England does chip in, we will do no good by returning home. The powers that be have decided that we are not yet of an age to take up a commission, although I flatter myself that we are both better men than Tompkins, late of the Upper Sixth, who was gazetted to a line regiment a week before the holidays, you'll remember. If there is a dust-up we'll try our luck with the French. They don't object to fellows of sixteen, so long as they are keen. Take the case of Lord Kitchener, for instance. He served as a cadet in the war of '70 and '71." "Don't be in such a violent hurry, old man. Stick to our original programme and go to Liége, if you will. It may be necessary for us to look after your sister, you know." "I don't think so; I firmly believe that Belgium will be left out of the business. This scare will be over in a few days. The pen is mightier than the sword, you know, so Germany will respect her plighted word to preserve the neutrality of both Holland and Belgium." It was nearly noon on Monday morning when the lads wended their way to the motor-repairer's. Outside the burgomaster's house a huge crowd had gathered. The chief magistrate was making ready to read a document. It was a copy of the momentous ultimatum from the bully of Europe to one of the smallest of her neighbours: a peremptory demand that the Belgian Government should allow the legions of the Kaiser to pass through Belgium in order to attack the least-defended frontier of France, and threatening to make war upon the little buffer State should she refuse. A dead silence greeted the burgomaster's announcement. The news, though not unexpected, was astounding. Again he spoke: "Fellow-townsmen! I can assure you that the spirit of independence lives amongst us. We will resist to the death this outrageous demand. Nor are we without powerful friends. Listen to the words of an appeal of our heroic Sovereign to the King of England: 'Remembering the numerous proofs of your Majesty's friendship and that of your predecessors, and the friendly attitude of England in 1870, and the proof of friendship you have just given us again, I make a supreme appeal to the diplomatic intervention of your Majesty's Government to safeguard the integrity of Belgium." "And what is the reply of the King of England?" shouted a voice. "If it has been received it has not up to the present been communicated to me," replied the chief magistrate pompously. "Rest assured that I, your burgomaster, will not be tardy in keeping the worthy burgesses fully posted with the latest news from the capital. If any of you still have faith in German promises, let me inform you it is definitely established that the German troops have already invaded the independent Grand Duchy of Luxemburg." The burgomaster withdrew, leaving the townsfolk to shout "Down with Germany!" "Long live England!" and cheer madly for their young king, who was yet to display proof of his personal courage. "It's getting serious," admitted Kenneth as the chums resumed their way. "I don't mind owning I was wrong in my opinion of German honesty. If they don't draw the line at Luxemburg they evidently won't at Belgium. Rollo, my boy, it's a mortal cert that Great Britain will be scrapping with Germany in less than a week." CHAPTER III Major Résimont "I vote we get off this main road with its wretched _pavé_," exclaimed Rollo prior to resuming their ride on the following day. "There's a road shown on the map which ought to be a jolly sight better. At any rate we'll miss most of the heavy traffic." "Right-o," assented Kenneth; "anything so long as we can have a speed-burst. I'm tired of crawling along at ten miles an hour." The road, which turned out to be little better than a cart-track, led a considerable distance from the left bank of the Meuse, and with the exception of an occasional farm wagon laden with hay, very little traffic was met with. At the end of an hour's steady riding, the lads found themselves at the junction of two forked roads, where, contrary to the usual custom, there was no signpost to indicate the direction. On either side was a steep bank. "Now, which way?" asked Rollo. "Neither of the roads looks particularly inviting." "It's one of the sunken roads of Belgium, I suppose," said Kenneth. "We'll climb up this bank. Perhaps we shall be able to see where we are. It will be awkward for our bikes if a motor-car comes tearing along." The incline was nearly fifteen feet in height and fairly steep. When the lads reached the summit they found, to their surprise, that they were on a slightly undulating grass field liberally guarded with barbed wire. About four hundred yards off was a rounded hillock. Even as the two looked they saw a huge cylindrical turret, from which projected the muzzle of a large gun, rise from the ground. For a few seconds the giant weapon moved horizontally and vertically, as if seeking a target, then as swiftly as it had appeared it disappeared into the ground. "I say, we've stumbled across one of the frontier forts," exclaimed Kenneth. "Let's go a bit closer and have a look. I'd like to find out how they work." "Thanks, I'm not having any," objected Rollo. "There's too much barbed wire knocking about. Besides, there are our bikes." "We needn't wriggle under the wire, this road on our right evidently leads to the fort. We'll get a bit closer; but hold on a minute, we'll see if that gun pops up again." They waited for at least five minutes, but without the expected result. As they turned to retrace their steps, they were confronted by a tall Belgian soldier wearing the blue uniform of the artillery. "C'est défendu: marchez!" he ordered sternly. "All right, monsieur," replied Kenneth. "We've lost our way. Which is the Liége road?" "You are foreigners," exclaimed the soldier, bringing his bayonet to the "ready". "Yes, English." "You must come with me." "We have motor-bicycles." "No matter. They will be attended to. Forward!" Realizing the uselessness of attempting to argue the point the lads obeyed, the soldier following three paces in the rear with his rifle and bayonet at the slope. After covering a distance of about a hundred yards between the edge of the barbed-wire entanglements and the dip formed by the sunken road, the arrested lads found themselves in the presence of a corporal and a file of men. "You must be taken before the major. I am sorry, but these are my orders," declared the corporal civilly, after ascertaining that the two chums were English. "No doubt you will be permitted to go with but little delay." "Will our motor-bicycles be all right?" asked Rollo anxiously. "We left them a little way down the lane." "I will send a man to look after them," was the reply. "We must take you into Fort Loncine, and you must be blindfolded. These are my orders whenever we find strangers in the vicinity of the defences." "Very well," replied Kenneth with as good a grace as he could command, at the same time producing his handkerchief. Guided by soldiers, the two blindfolded youths were led into the fort. Kenneth kept count of the number of paces before crossing the drawbridge; they totalled four hundred and eighty-five, which, allowing thirty inches for his long stride, meant that the glacis, or level grassy ground surrounding the fort, was a little over four hundred yards in breadth. When the handkerchiefs were removed from their eyes the lads found themselves in a large vaulted room lighted by electricity. On three sides were several low-arched doorways, on the fourth a fairly broad gateway through which they had been brought. Although it was impossible to see straight into the open air, a distant glimpse of diffused daylight showed that this entrance communicated either with the glacis or else an enclosed portion of the fort that was exposed to the rays of the sun. Seated on benches or lolling against the walls were quite a hundred soldiers, yet the place was by no means crowded. Beyond looking with evident curiosity at the two lads under arrest, they took no further interest in them. Presently a sergeant approached and questioned the guards concerning their prisoners. "English? Perhaps they are sent ... but, no; they are but youths. Bring them along. I will inform Major Résimont." The sergeant knocked at one of the doors, and in reply to a muffled "Entrez!" he passed through. The lads noticed that the door was of steel, and required considerable effort on the part of the non-commissioned officer to open it. "Englishmen found in the vicinity of the fort, mon major," announced the sergeant, saluting and standing stiffly at attention. "Let them enter. Ah, my young friends, this, then, is the manner in which you come to Liége?" The two chums could well express astonishment, for their questioner was none other than the officer who in Namur had advised them to abandon their proposed visit to the Birmingham of Belgium. "Well, what have you to say?" proceeded the major. "We lost our way and scrambled on to the bank to see where we were. We happened to catch sight of one of the guns, with disappearing mountings, and we were curious to see what happened," replied Kenneth. "Your curiosity might lead you into trouble," said the Belgian officer gravely. "How am I to know that you are not German spies?" Kenneth bridled indignantly. "We give you our word that we are not." "Your word will hardly do, monsieur, at a time like this. Can you produce proofs? Have you anyone in the district who can identify you?" The lads produced their permits. "This will hardly do," continued the major as he scanned Kenneth's document. "These are only too easy to obtain. Ha! Your name is Barrington?" he asked, turning to the owner of that patronymic. "Yes, sir," replied Rollo. "My father is a retired colonel in the British army." "His Christian name?" Rollo told him. "Then I know your father; not intimately, perhaps, yet I am acquainted with him. I met him at your great manoeuvres at Aldershot, to which I was sent as attaché in 1904. But, tell me, why are you both so anxious to go to Liége?" "My sister is at a boarding-school near Visé," replied Kenneth. "I want to see her, as she is not returning home for the holidays." "She is at the institution of Madame de la Barre?" "Yes, sir; how did you know that?" asked Kenneth eagerly. "I have the pleasure of Mademoiselle Everest's acquaintance," replied the major with a deep bow. "In fact, she is a great friend of my daughter, Yvonne. You are free to depart, messieurs, but perhaps you will do me a favour. Convey my compliments to Madame de la Barre, and say that it is advisable that she should remove her school from Visé as soon as possible. Should you find it inconvenient to take your sister to England, please inform her that she may find a temporary home with Yvonne at my house in the Rue de la Tribune in Brussels." "That we will gladly do, and let you know the result." Major Résimont smiled. "My duty prevents me from being my own messenger," he said. "I was on the point of sending one of my men with a letter, but you will, according to your English proverb, kill two birds with one stone. To-night, if you wish to see me, I hope to be at the Café Royal, in the Rue Breidel at Liége, from eight till eleven. Will you, before you depart, honour me by taking a glass of wine?" "What do you think of the situation, sir?" asked Rollo. Major Résimont shook his head. "Serious," he said solemnly. "At any moment these pigs of Prussians may cross the frontier. Only one thing will hold them back: the fear of your English fleet. You are fortunate, you English, in having the sea around your country, yet I think you do not give sufficient thought towards the significance of the fact." "But Great Britain has not declared war on Germany." "No, not yet, but perhaps soon. Your country would do incalculable service to France and Belgium simply by holding the sea; yet in addition she has generously pledged herself to send almost the whole of her army to Belgium if the Germans attack us. Then the rest will be a question of time. We in Liége will do our utmost to keep the invaders at bay until your brave army arrives. Then, with the French, to say nothing of the Russians on the east, Germany will be assailed and conquered, and the vile spectre of Teutonic militarism will be for ever laid low." The Belgian major spoke with conviction. His earnestness in the hope of British aid was intense. "And we are ready," continued the major. "Already the bridges across the Meuse are mined; our armoured forts will defy the heaviest of the German artillery. We will keep the Germans at bay for a month if need be. Meanwhile you two messieurs journey through Belgium as calmly as if you were on an English country road. You English are brave, but you are enigmas. But take this and show it if you are challenged," and he wrote out a pass on an official form. The major accompanied his involuntary guests as far as the edge of the glacis. This time they were not blindfolded; yet there was very little to be seen, except to the practised eye of a trained man. There were mountings for quick-firing guns, and just discernible above the turf the rounded tops of the steel cupolas. Beyond that the fort looked nothing more than an earthworked enclosure. Somewhat to the lads' astonishment they found their motor-cycles placed on a trolley. The Belgian soldiers, not understanding the action of the exhaust lever, had been unable to wheel the heavy mounts; and since their orders had to be obeyed, they had first resorted to the toilsome task of carrying the mounts. This, owing to the heat of the day and the thickness of their clothing, was eventually abandoned, and a trolley procured. "You have a clear road," announced Major Résimont. "When you re-enter the lane, keep to the left; that will bring you speedily upon the highway. Au revoir, messieurs!" Somewhat to the wonderment of the Belgian soldiers, who could not understand how the unwieldy machines could be moved by manual power, the lads took a running start. Both engines fired easily, and soon the tourists were speeding along through the outskirts of the city of Liége. CHAPTER IV Enlisted "Madame de la Barre presents her compliments, but regrets that the regulations of her establishment do not permit her pupils to receive visits except during certain hours," announced a stern-faced Flemish woman in broken French. Kenneth glanced at his companion, "What's to be done now?" he asked. "Give her Major Résimont's message. Say it's very urgent," advised Rollo. The lads, curbing their impatience, waited for another ten minutes outside the lofty blank wall surrounding the boarding-school. The air was sultry, and the glare from the whitewashed walls was almost blinding. The _pavé_ seemed to throw out a stifling heat. The village street was practically deserted, but in the neighbouring fields a row of peasant women were bending over their monotonous task of pulling vegetables. Farther away some cows were lying down under the scant shade afforded by a few gaunt trees. Otherwise the landscape was devoid of life. Presently a woman passed, leading a little girl by the hand. She was a buxom, comely peasant, the child bright-faced and apparently well-cared-for. They were laughing and chattering. Then a man on a dog-drawn cart came down the street. The animals, their tongues protruding and their sides heaving with the heat, were moving at a leisurely pace. The man made no attempt to hurry them. He was smiling contentedly, and called out a cheery greeting in Flemish to the patient audience before the gate of Madame de la Barre. A little way down the street he halted his team and entered a cottage. He was lame, hence he had not been called up on mobilization. Presently the maid-servant reappeared. "Madame thanks Monsieur the Major, but at present sees no reason for taking his advice. Should war be declared she will take necessary steps to safeguard her pupils. If Mademoiselle Résimont is to be sent to her home at Brussels, no doubt Monsieur the Major will communicate in writing with Madame. If Monsieur Everest desires to see his sister he can do so in the presence of Madame at eleven o'clock to-morrow." Having delivered this ultimatum, the maid shut the door and shot the massive bolts. "Done this time!" ejaculated Kenneth. "Let's get back to Liége. There'll be plenty to see." The lads set off at a rapid pace in spite of the heat. They were on foot, having placed their motor-cycles in the village of Argenteau. By the time they regained Argenteau a change had come over the little hamlet. A detachment of engineers was in possession. The men, discarding their heavy greatcoats, were busily engaged in throwing up earthworks, while almost within arm's-length their rifles were piled, each weapon with its bayonet fixed. "Halte-là!" The tip of a bayonet presented within a couple of inches of Rollo's chest brought both lads to a sudden stop. "Qui v'là?" The production of the pass with which Major Résimont had provided them was sufficient, and without further hindrance the two friends gained the inn. As they passed under the archway they found that their beloved motor-cycles had vanished. "Pardon, messieurs!" exclaimed the landlord on catching sight of the two lads. "It was not my fault, I assure you. It is the order of the Government. They have taken away all the horses, all the carts----" "And our motor-cycles?" "Hélas, messieurs, it is a fact. Nevertheless, the Government will pay----" "Where are they taken to?" asked Kenneth. "They were placed in a transport wagon, monsieur. It left in the direction of Liége not fifteen minutes ago." "Let's hurry and catch it up," suggested Rollo. "It's daylight robbery. I believe that rascally innkeeper has played a trick on us." Alternately running and walking, the English lads kept up a rapid pace along the road that followed the right bank of the Meuse between Argenteau and Liége. Mile after mile they went, without a sign of a transport wagon. Troops there were in plenty, all carrying entrenching tools in addition to arms. Yet, in spite of these warlike movements, the women were toiling unconcernedly in the fields, either indifferent to the danger that threatened them, or else basking in the confidence of the ability of the Belgian troops and their allies to thrust back the approaching tide of invasion. At the village of Wandre Rollo gave vent to a shout of delight. Standing outside an inn was an army wagon, and under its tilt, in company with a medley of other articles, were their motor-cycles. "Now, what's to be done?" asked Rollo. "I vote we take them and make off as hard as we can," suggested Kenneth. "The soldiers in charge are evidently after more official loot." "Won't do," replied the cautious Rollo. "Ten to one we would hopelessly damage the bikes getting them off the wagon. The best we can do is to tackle the fellow in charge." "The fellow in charge" turned out to be a phlegmatic Walloon corporal. When appealed to he replied that he was acting under the orders of his lieutenant, and that he must account for all the articles on his list upon his return to Liége. The production of Major Résimont's pass did not save the situation, although the Belgian's demeanour thawed considerably. "Nevertheless, if messieurs are English, perhaps they would like to ride on the wagon. At Liége, no doubt, all will be set right," he added. It was, fortunately, the last of that particular corporal's work, and he was at liberty to return without delay. A sapper drove, the corporal sitting beside him on the box seat. On the tail-board, with their backs against their precious motor-cycles, sat the two lads, another sapper keeping them company. As the cart jolted through the village of Jupille there came a dull rumbling, like that of distant thunder. "Guns!" exclaimed Rollo. "Thunder, I think," declared his chum. The Belgian soldier, when questioned, merely remarked in matter-of-fact tones: "We are blowing up the bridges, monsieur." The work of demolition had already begun. The Belgian troops, with commendable forethought, had destroyed four bridges across the Meuse in order to delay the momentarily expected German advance. Yet, on either side of the sluggish river, peasants were unconcernedly toiling in the fields. As the wagon passed the loftily-situated and obsolete fort of La Chatreuse a round of cheering could be heard from the city of Liége. Presently the strains of "La Brabançonne"--the Belgian National Anthem--could be distinguished above the din. The sapper began to grow excited. "All is well, messieurs," he exclaimed. "We are now ready for these Prussians. Our Third Division has arrived." Presently the head of the column of blue-greatcoated troops swung blithely along the road to take up positions in the newly-constructed trenches between Fort de Barchon and Fort de Fléron. The men marched well, although covered with dust from head to foot; for during the previous forty-eight hours they had, by forced marches, covered more than eighty miles from Diest to their allotted positions at Liége. Yet, for some unaccountable reason, these troops went into what was soon to be the firing-line in blue tunics with white facings, which would offer a conspicuous target to their foes. It was late in the afternoon when the cart drew up in a large open space by the side of the Church of St. Jacques. The square was crowded with all kinds of military transport and commissariat wagons. Officers were shouting orders, men were rushing hither and thither, motors were popping, horses neighing. The corporal in charge of the wagon descended and stood rigidly at attention. For quite a quarter of an hour he remained in this attitude, without any of the officers approaching to give him further directions. The crowd of wagons became more congested, till Kenneth and Rollo realized that, should they regain possession of their mounts, there would be great difficulty in wheeling them out of the press. Suddenly Kenneth gripped his friend's shoulder and pointed in the direction of a group of officers. "There's Major Résimont!" he exclaimed. "He'll get us out of the fix." "Ah! You have got yourselves in a difficulty again, that I can see," declared the genial Major. "What, then, is the trouble?" Briefly Kenneth described the commandeering of their motor-cycles. "I am indeed most busy," said Major Résimont, and the perspiration on his face did not belie this statement. "Nevertheless, come with me, and we will find the Quartermaster of the Commissariat." He led the lads at a rapid pace through several crowded thoroughfares. At one point the press was so great as to impede their progress. The Liégeois were shouting and cheering, cries of "Vive la Belgique!" and "Vive l'Angleterre!" predominating. Outside a large building a Union Jack and the Belgian tricolour had been hoisted side by side. A telegraphic communication had just been received that Great Britain had declared war on Germany. "Ah! I thought it," chuckled the Major. "Now the Prussians will get the right-about. My friends, the Germans are also now your enemies," and he shook Kenneth and Rollo by the hand. "What will you do? Return to England and join the army?" "We are not old enough for commissions, sir," replied Kenneth; then on the spur of the moment he added: "Couldn't we be attached to the Belgian army as dispatch-riders?" Rollo almost gasped at his chum's impetuosity, but loyalty to his chum and a desire to do something against the oppressor of Europe checked his inclination to counsel caution. "We will see," said the Major gravely. "It is good to see such a spirit amongst Englishmen to come to the aid of our brave Belgians. You are resolute?" "Rather!" declared Kenneth stoutly; and Rollo likewise signified his willingness. The Quartermaster having been found at his office, Major Résimont soon obtained the requisite order for the release of the Englishmen's motor-cycles. "Now, this way!" he exclaimed. Five minutes' brisk walk brought them to the door of a large building at which were stationed two soldiers in the uniform of the Grenadiers. These stood stiffly at attention as the Major entered, drawing themselves up with an alertness that was almost entirely lacking in most of the men of the line regiments. Giving his name to a staff officer, the Major had to wait in an ante-room, with at least a dozen other officers, mostly of brevet rank. At length his turn came, for business was being carried out with dispatch. "Monsieur le Major Résimont, mon Général," announced a junior officer, as he opened the door and motioned for the Belgian Major and his two companions to enter. Seated at a table was a man in the undress uniform of the Belgian staff. He was sparely built, although from his attitude it was impossible to judge his height. His features were sallow, one might almost say cadaverous, with a bright tinge of red upon his prominent cheek-bones. Heavily-bushed eyebrows overhung a pair of deep-set eyes that seemed hawk-like in their intensity. His closely-cropped hair was iron-grey. A slightly drooping moustache hid a resolute mouth. The two English lads were in the presence of a man whose name, hitherto practically unknown outside his own country, was soon to be on the lips of everyone who was likely to hear of the gallant stand of Liége--General Albert Leman. A quick vertical motion of the General's right hand--he was a man of few words--was the signal for Major Résimont to make known his business. "I have here two Englishmen, mon Général," began the Major. "They are desirous of entering our army as motor-cyclist dispatch-riders." Without a moment's delay the General asked: "Can they read a map?" Kenneth and Rollo both replied that they could. "Good!" exclaimed General Leman; then, turning to his secretary, he added: "Make out an order for these gentlemen to be attached to the 9th regiment of the line--your company, Major?" "If you please, sir." "Here, then, is the order," continued the General after a brief instant, during which the secretary had been writing as hard as he possibly could. "They can be sworn in as soon as an opportunity occurs. I wish you good day." That was all. The whole business was over in less than five minutes. Not a word of thanks or encouragement to the two British volunteers. A chill had descended upon their ardour. "The General--he is magnificent," said their companion as they gained the street. "Down to the humblest private we swear by him. One has to earn praise from the General before it is bestowed: it is our General's way. He is a man of few words, but his heart is in the right place. Now go and demand your motor-cycles and proceed to Fort de Barchon. I will meet you there and see you are attested." With that the Major hurried off, and the two lads hastened to take possession of their own property. "Fancy Great Britain being at war with Germany at last!" exclaimed Kenneth. "We can hardly realize it, although most people have been talking about it for years. Perhaps even now our fleet
{'title': 'The Dispatch-Riders: The Adventures of Two British Motor-cyclists in the Great', 'source': 'Project Gutenberg', 'lang': 'en'}