Part 48 (1/2)
He went in gently and Desmond followed with a splash. The sluggish water was like velvet; the tide took them gently on, while they swam madly below the surface.
Shouts ran up and down the banks. Searchlights from the blockhouses lit the river, and the water was churned under a hail of machine-gun bullets, with every guard letting off his rifle into the stream in the hope of hitting something. The bombardment lasted for five minutes, and then the officer in command gave the signal to cease fire.
”The pity is,” he observed, ”that we never get the bodies; the current sees to that. But the swine will hardly float back to their England!”
He shrugged his shoulders. ”That being settled, suppose we return to supper?”
It might have hindered the worthy captain's enjoyment had he been able to see a mud-bank fifty yards below the frontier, where two dripping men looked at each other, and laughed, and cried, and wrung each other's hands, and, in general, behaved like people bereft of reason.
”Haven't got a scratch, have you, you old blighter?” asked Jim ecstatically.
”Not one. Rotten machine-gun practice, wasn't it? Sure you're all right?”
”Rather! Do you realize you're in Holland?”
”Do you realize that no beastly Hun can come up out of nowhere and take pot-shots at you?”
”It's not their pot-shots I minded so much,” said Jim. ”But to go back to a prison-camp--well, shooting would be a joke to that. Oh, by Jove, isn't it gorgeous!” They pumped hands again.
”Now, look here--we've got to be sober,” Desmond said presently.
”Holland is all very well; I've heard it's a nice place for skating.
But neither of us has any wish to get interned here.”
”Rather not!” said Jim. ”I want to go home and get into uniform again, and go hunting for Huns.”
”Same here,” said Desmond. ”Therefore we will sneak along this river until we find a boat. Go steady now, young Linton, and don't turn hand springs!”
Within the Dutch frontier the Rhine breaks up into a delta of navigable streams, on which little brown-sailed cargo-boats ply perpetually; and the skipper of a Dutch cargo-boat will do anything for money. A couple of hours' hard walking brought Jim and Desmond to a village with a little pier near which half a dozen boats were moored. A light showed in a port-hole, and they went softly on deck, and found their way below into a tiny and malodorous cabin. A stout man sprang to his feet at sight of the dripping scarecrows who invaded his privacy.
South Africa had taught Desmond sufficient Dutch to enable him to make himself intelligible. He explained the position briefly to the mariner, and they talked at length.
”Wants a stiff figure,” he said finally, turning to Jim. ”But he says 'can do.' He'll get us some clothes and drop down the river with us to Rotterdam, and find a skipper who'll get us across to Harwich--the German navy permitting, of course!”
”The German navy!” said Jim scornfully. ”But they're asleep!” He yawned hugely. ”I'm going to sleep, too, if I have to camp on the gentleman's table. Tell him to call me when it's time to change for Blighty!”
CHAPTER XIX
REVEILLE
It was not yet dawn when David Linton, fully dressed, came into the cottage garden. The door stood open, and he kicked off his shoes and crept into the house.
Eva sat on the floor of the pa.s.sage with her head in her hands. She looked up with a start as the big man came in, and scrambled to her feet; a queer dishevelled figure with her tousled head and crumpled cap and ap.r.o.n. A wave of dismay swept over Mr. Linton.
”Is he----?” he whispered, and stopped.
The girl beckoned him into the sitting-room.
”'E's never stirred all night,” she whispered. ”I dunno if 'e isn't dead; I never see any one lie so still. The nurse wouldn't sit there like a wooden image if 'e was dead, would she, sir?”