Part 5 (1/2)
”Oh, it isn't that,” said Gray hastily, ”only he's--he's got--other matters on his mind! Bring me his overcoat. He said it was in his tent,”
and the young officer jerked his head at the patch of little ”A” tents lined up in the rear of those of the officers.
”Get Morton's overcoat and take it to him at the guardhouse,” snapped the staff sergeant to the clerk. ”Be spry now, and no stopping on the way back,” he added--well aware how much in need his a.s.sistant stood of creature comfort of some surrept.i.tious and forbidden kind. The man was back in a moment, the coat rolled on his arm.
”I'll take it,” said Gray simply. ”You needn't come.”
”Go on with it!” ordered the sergeant as the soldier hesitated. ”D'ye think the service has gone to the devil and officers are runnin' errands for enlisted men? An' get back inside two minutes, too,” he added with portent in his tone. The subaltern of hardly two months' service felt the implied rebuke of the soldier of over twenty years' and meekly accepted the amendment, but--a thought occurred to him: He had promised Morton paper, envelopes and stamps and the day's newspapers--the lad seemed strangely eager to get all the latter, and vaguely Billy remembered having heard that Canker considered giving papers to prisoners as equivalent to aid and comfort to the enemy.
”Take it by way of my tent,” said he as they started, and, once there it took time to find things. ”Go back to the sergeant-major and tell him I sent you,” said Gray, after another search. ”He needs you on those papers.”
And when the officer of the guard returned to the guardhouse and went in to the prisoner, the sergeant saw--and others saw--that, rolled in the soldier's overcoat he carried on his arm, was a bundle done up in newspaper. Moreover, a sc.r.a.p of conversation was overheard.
”There's no one at the General's,” said the officer. ”I see no way of--fixing it before morning.”
”My G.o.d, lieutenant! There--must be some way out of it! The morning will be too late.”
”Then I'll do what I can for you to-night,” said Mr. Gray as he turned and hurriedly left the guardroom--a dozen men standing stiffly about the walls and doorway and staring with impa.s.sive faces straight to the front.
Again, the young officer had left the post of the guard and gone up into camp, while far and near through the dim, fog-swept aisles of a score of camps the bugles and trumpets were wailing the signal for ”lights out,”
and shadowy forms with coat collars turned up about the ears or capes m.u.f.fled around the neck, scurried about the company streets ordering laughter and talk to cease. A covered carriage was standing at the curb outside the officers' gate--as a certain hole in the fence was designated--and the sentry there posted remembered that the officer of the guard came hurrying out and asked the driver if he was engaged. ”I'm waiting for the major,” was the answer.
”Well, where can one order a carriage to-night without going clear to town?” inquired Gray. ”I want one--that is--I wish to order one at once.”
And the driver who knew very well there were several places where carriages could be had, preferred loyalty to his own particular stable away in town, and so declared there was none.
”You can telephone there, if you wish, sir,” he added.
”And wait till morning for it to get here? No! I'll get it--somehow.”
And that he did get it somehow was current rumor on the following day, for the sentries on the guardhouse side of camp swore that a closed carriage drove down from McAllister Street for all the world as though it had just come out of the park, and rolled on past the back of the guardhouse, the driver loudly whistling ”Killarney,” so that it could be heard above the crunching of the wheels through the rough, loose rock that covered the road, and that carriage drew up not a hundred yards away, while the lieutenant was out visiting sentries, and presently they saw him coming back along the walk, stopping to question each sentry as to his orders. Then he returned and inquired if all was quiet among the prisoners, and then went and put out his light in the tent reserved for the officer of the guard, and once more left his post, briefly informing the sergeant of the guard he was going to the officer of the day. Then it was ascertained that he had visited half a dozen places in search of that veteran captain, and appeared much disturbed because he could not find him. In half an hour he was back, asking excitedly of the sentry in rear of the guardhouse if a carriage had come that way. It had, said the sentry, and was waiting down the street. Gray hurried in the direction indicated, was gone perhaps three minutes, and returned, saying that the sentry must be mistaken, that no carriage was there. But the sentry reiterated his statement that it had been there and had been waiting for some time, and must have disappeared while he was temporarily around at the opposite side of the building. This was about 11 P.M.
Then when Gray appeared at reveille Morton had disappeared.
”It's not the sergeant let them fellers out,” said the regimental oracles. ”This is no ten-dollar subscription business.” And so until late in the afternoon the question that agitated the entire range of regimental camps was: ”How did those fellows break away from the prison of the --teenth?” Then came a clue, and then--discovery.
By order of Lieutenant-Colonel Canker a board of officers had been convened to investigate the matter, and after questioning everybody whom ”Squeers” had already badgered with his a.s.sertions, threats and queries, they went to the guardhouse and began a thorough inspection of the premises. The wooden building stood in the midst of a waste of sand blown in from the sh.o.r.e line by the strong sea wind. It was perched on something like a dozen stout posts driven into the soft soil and then the s.p.a.ce between the floor level and the sand was heavily and stoutly boarded in--thick planks being used. Between the floor and the sand was a s.p.a.ce of about eighteen inches vertical, and a dozen men could have sprawled therein--lying at full length--but to escape would have required the connivance of one or more of the sentries surrounding the building and the ripping off of one or more of the planks. In his keen anxiety Canker accompanied the Board on its tour of investigation--a thing the Board did not at all like--and presently, as was his wont, began running things his own way. It had been found useless to question the soldiers of the guard. Not a man could be found to admit he knew the faintest thing about the escape. As for the prisoners, most of them reckless, devil-may-care rascals, they grinned or leered suggestively, but had nothing to tell.
”We'll have this boarding ripped off,” said Canker decisively, ”and see what they've got secreted under there. I shouldn't be surprised to find a whisky still in full blast, or a complete gambling outfit--dash, dash 'em to dash and dashnation! Send for a carpenter, sergeant.”
The carpenter came, and he and two or three of the guard laid hold of one end of the plank after its nails were drawn, and with little exertion ripped it off the other posts. Then everybody held his breath a minute, stared, and a small majority swore. So far from its being open to cats, cans and rubbish, the s.p.a.ce on that side was filled solid with damp, heavy sea sand--a vertical wall extending from floor to ground. Canker almost ran around to the opposite side and had a big plank torn off there. Within was a wall as damp, solid and straight as that first discovered, and so, when examined, were the other two sides provided.
Canker's face was a study, and the Board gazed and was profoundly happy.
At last the colonel exploded:
”By Jupiter! They haven't got away at all, then! There isn't a flaw in the sand wall anywhere. They must be hiding about the middle now. Come on, gentlemen,” and around he trotted to the front door. ”Sergeant,” he cried, ”get out all the prisoners--all their bedding--every blessed thing they've got. I want to examine that floor.”
Most of the guardhouse ”birds” were out chopping wood, and Canker danced in among the few remaining, loading them with bedding belonging to their fellows until every item of clothing and furniture was shoved out of the room. One member of the Board and one only failed to enter with his a.s.sociates--a veteran captain who read much war literature and abhorred Canker. To the surprise of the sentry he walked deliberately over to the fence, climbed it and presently began poking about the wooden curb that ran along the road, making a low revetment or retaining wall for the earth, cinders and gravel that, distributed over the sand, had been hopefully designated a sidewalk by the owners of the tract. Presently he came sauntering back, and both sentries within easy range would have sworn he was chuckling. Canker greeted him with customary asperity.
”What do you mean, sir, by absenting yourself from this investigation, when you must have known I was with the Board and giving it the benefit of the information I had gathered?”
”I was merely expediting matters, colonel. While you were looking for where they went in I was finding where they got out.”
”Went in _what_? Got out of what?” snapped Canker.
”Their tunnel, sir. It's Libby on a small scale over again. They must have been at work at it at least ten days.” And as he spoke, calmly ignoring Canker and letting his eyes wander over the floor, the veteran battalion commander sauntered across the room, stirred up a slightly projecting bit of flooring with the toe of his boot and placidly continued. ”If you'll be good enough to let the men pry this up you _may_ understand.”