Part 40 (2/2)

Kenneth was by no means a novice in seamans.h.i.+p, On more than one vacation he had spent part of the time in motor-boating in Southampton Water, where a cousin of his kept a high-powered craft. After very little delay he succeeded in finding the position of the various switches and taps. At the third attempt the engine fired. The propeller blades, set at the neutral, churned the water. The motor purred rhythmically, as a well-conducted motor should.

”Cast off there, for'ard!” ordered Kenneth, addressing Rollo, who had taken up his post in the bows. ”Thelma, undo that rope, quickly now!”

It was no time for courtesies. Kenneth was skipper, and his crew had to be told peremptorily; it was his notion of showing authority.

Swiftly gathering stern-way the boat glided away from the staging; then, with a jerk as the propeller began to churn ahead, the little craft headed towards the Scheldt and the North Sea.

Kenneth's was by no means an easy task. Having the use of only one arm, he was severely handicapped. Steering by means of a wheel is far from satisfactory when literally ”single-handed”, while the intricacies of the ca.n.a.l required a certain amount of quickness with the helm.

Twice the boat nearly collided with the partly submerged hulls of destroyed barges. The ca.n.a.l was now little better than a ditch, for the tide had already fallen twelve feet out of sixteen. One satisfaction Kenneth had: there were no lock-gates to negotiate. The falling tide told him that.

”Something ahead!” shouted Rollo. ”Wreckage, I think.”

His chum immediately throttled down, keeping his unwounded hand on the reversing lever. By the lurid glare in the sky he could discern the obstruction: the shattered timbers of the lock-gates. Would there be enough water to clear the sill of the basin? If not, they would have to remain for hours, in danger of the falling sh.e.l.ls, until the tide rose sufficiently to float the boat over the barrier.

Kenneth prudently stopped the engine. He would not risk losing the blades of the propeller. Slowly and with bare steerage-way the boat glided towards the ruined gates. Her bows pa.s.sed the gaunt timbers, then, with a horrid grinding noise, she hung up by the stern.

”Get for'ard, all hands!” shouted Kenneth. ”We may be able to jump her over.”

The four members of the crew made their way to the bows. Regardless of their injuries the two lads heaved and pushed with the boat-hooks.

They could hear the keel grate on the stone-work. The tide was still falling.

A sh.e.l.l, fortunately without exploding, dropped into the water twenty yards astern, throwing a shower of spray over the boat and her crew.

Kenneth glanced at the girls. By the glare of the burning city he could see that their faces were calm. Either they were ignorant of their narrow escape or quite unperturbed by their hazardous position.

”All together; push for all you are worth!” exclaimed Kenneth desperately.

Inch by inch the boat was urged onwards, till with a sudden jerk it dropped across the sill into deep water. Rollo, faint with pain, sat limply in the for'ard well; then, concealing his injuries, he a.s.sisted the girls to the doubtful shelter of the cabin.

Kenneth, too, was in a sorry plight. Setting his teeth tightly he restarted the engine; then, taking up his post at the wheel, he guided the swift little craft towards the centre of the River Scheldt.

In spite of the still pressing danger the crew were enthralled by the scene that presented itself to their gaze. Antwerp was in the throes of its death-struggle. Dominating the houses on the river bank rose the spire of the cathedral, its delicate tracery silhouetted clearly against the dull red glare of the burning oil-tanks. Overhead the thick pall of smoke had spread far and wide, its lower edges tinted blood-red by the blaze of the numerous fires. High above the roofs were the rapid, seemingly interminable brilliant flashes of the exploding sh.e.l.ls, while away to the southward the sky was stabbed by the incessant lightning-like glare of the bombarding guns.

Antwerp had fallen. Belgium as a country had practically ceased to exist; Belgium as a nation, still undaunted, had made a supreme sacrifice. She had saved Europe--and Europe's task was clear. Not until the brave little nation was rehabilitated, and the German menace crushed once and for all time, could the Allies hope to lay down the sword that they had been reluctantly compelled to unsheathe.

CHAPTER XXIX

On the North Sea

The crew of the motor-boat had no great difficulty in finding their way down the river. The glare on the water, and on the underside of the enormous expanse of smoke overhead, enabled them to see objects ahead with comparative ease. The actual channel was well defined, at first by several barges still at anchor in the stream, and later by hundreds of small craft making their way to safety.

Those who depended mainly upon sail to propel them were quickly overtaken, for the night was particularly windless and their brown canvas hung idly from the yards. Satisfied with having got beyond the danger zone, the crews of these fis.h.i.+ng-vessels were content to drift, save for the occasional a.s.sistance of their heavy sweeps. The decks were literally packed with refugees, who, glad to have escaped with their lives, exhibited an uncanny calmness.

Reach after reach of the river was pa.s.sed, as the motor-boat, gradually working up power, increased her speed. Astern, the funereal pile of Antwerp glowed red; it seemed as if the crew could never get beyond sight of it. The spire of the cathedral had vanished beneath the horizon, but the smoke from the burning city still hung overhead.

The four occupants of the motor-boat had made their way aft. The girls, refusing to go into the cabin, sat on one side of the c.o.c.kpit, their eyes fixed upon the glare of the fallen port. Rollo, holding his wounded wrist, shut his jaw tightly and endured the pain. Since his chum made no complaint of his injuries, Rollo grimly decided to keep the fact that he was wounded from the others. Kenneth, steadying the steering-wheel with his right hand, had almost forgotten the unpleasant attention of the shrapnel bullet. The sense of responsibility outweighed all other considerations.

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