Chapter XXII Cut and Run
Seth Newruck, who lived at the north end of the town, had been to Alderwick Hall to take certain reports and accounts to the Scout Commissioner, and was returning across the fields when he heard the firing of naval guns from somewhere out at sea.
He had previously seen the gunboat leave her anchorage, and he believed at first that her gunners were practising, or that perhaps some of the patrolling trawlers were exploding floating mines. He was not alarmed.
But very soon the loud, insistent booming convinced him that the guns were heavier than those of the Kingfisher, and that some sort of naval engagement was going on out there beyond the curtain of sea mist.
He began to run. Coming out upon the highway, he crossed the warren to the edge of the cliff and stood looking out to sea. He could see the flashes of the guns, flickering through the fog like summer lightning.
If ships were firing upon the Kingfisher, then assuredly they were enemies—a squadron of the German Fleet! Perhaps they were even engaged with a division of our British Dreadnoughts! The thought thrilled him in all his nerves.
After a while there was a lull. Seth went on, beyond the ravine, beyond Sunnydene. When he got close to the front gate of Green Croft, and again looked searchingly outward, he distinguished the shadowy forms of three great battleships, led by two light cruisers. They were steaming southward, with their broadsides towards the land.
Suddenly, from the foremost battleship, there came a flash. She was hidden in a cloud of smoke. He heard a shrill shriek, and saw a high fountain of spray rise from the deep water inside Alderwick Shoal, where a shot had fallen. At the same moment there was a terrible, ear-splitting, earth-shaking boom.
Seth trembled from head to foot; less with fear than with boyish excitement. Was it possible that he was, after all, going to witness at first hand some actual incident of the great war? His heart was beating furiously against his ribs; he went hot and cold by turns. He knew that he stood in danger. The next shot might come farther than the sea!
“I wonder if I’m afraid?” he asked himself.
Then he thought of the people in the houses near him, and of his duty as a Scout. If the danger should come nearer, how could he give help? He remembered the refuge trench which he had helped to dig in Mrs. Daplin-Gennery’s garden. Now most surely was a time for it to be used!
He ran in at the gateway and up the gravelled drive. The window blinds were down, the front door was shut. He went round to the back entrance and was about to hammer at the kitchen door when it was flung open.
Mrs. Daplin-Gennery stood in the passage, wearing a blue dressing-gown. Her long, black hair hung loose over her shoulders, making her face look very white. Her arms were bare, and he saw that she held a revolver in her right hand. Behind her were other women—her lady’s maid, the Irish cook, the parlourmaid, and two others.
Seth Newruck raised his hand in the Scouts’ salute.
“You’d better all get into the trench, ma’am,” he advised. “There’s a lot of German warships out there beyond the sandbank.”
Even as he spoke there came the loud, whistling rush of a shell overhead and a terrific explosion rent the air as the thing fell somewhere in the fields beyond. The servants screamed. Mrs. Daplin-Gennery alone was calm.
“Are there troopships and Zeppelins with them?” she questioned. “Are they going to land? Is it an invasion?”
“No.” Seth shook his head. “I don’t think so. But, anyhow, you’d better take shelter in the dug-out.”
Mrs. Daplin-Gennery stood aside, thrusting the others in advance of her. They had more than once rehearsed this scene. One by one they obediently and very quickly rushed forward and disappeared into the sap trench. Their mistress followed, but hesitated half-way down the sunken ladder.
“You must come, too,” she called to Seth. “There is plenty of room.”
Seth drew back a step and turned as if to leave.
“As soon as you’re all safe in the dug-out,” he responded quietly, “I’m going to run home, to look after my mother and sisters. Father’s out with the Fleet.”
There was another loud boom of a gun; but this time it came from the direction of Buremouth.
“Quick! Come into the trench!” urged Mrs. Daplin-Gennery, now at the foot of the ladder and out of sight. “You’ll get killed if you don’t. And if they land troops—if it’s an invasion—you must stay and defend us helpless women. You’re the only male person here. Besides, you’re a Scout; you know what to do if any of us are wounded.”
This argument presented a new aspect of the situation. Seth descended the ladder, and as he turned into the darkness of the sap trench the pistol was thrust into his hand.
“If a German shows his face, shoot him!” he was ordered.
“They won’t land, ma’am,” he declared with confidence, following along the covered way to the refuge of the sunken bicycle shed under its protecting mound of sandbags and earth. “They couldn’t land through shoal water.”
His further assurances were cut short by a deafening explosion. The earth shook, there was a prolonged roar and clatter of tumbling masonry, mingled with the splitting of timber and the crashing of glass.
“Wirra-wirra!” cried the Irish cook. “It’s the house they’ve struck, and we’ll all be kilt entirely!”
A shower of loose sand, dislodged by the concussion, fell through the cracks in the roof of the shelter, the support timbers creaked ominously. Then suddenly all was silent except for the cries of the frightened kitchenmaid.
Seth ran back along the covered way and found the entrance blocked by a confusion of fallen bricks and garden soil. But there was a second exit which admitted light and air to the refuge, with a second ladder. Up this ladder he climbed and thrust out his head above ground to see what damage had been done and discover if the house were on fire.
His nostrils were assailed by the pungent fumes from the exploded eleven-inch shell. Clouds of drifting smoke and dust obscured his view; but as they cleared he saw that the gable end of the house had fallen, carrying with it a chimney-stack and some of the wrecked furniture of an upper room. The windows were all smashed. The shell seemed to have burst somewhere between the adjoining stables and the conservatory, both of which were a mass of ruins.
“It’s a good thing nobody is hurt,” he said, returning to report on what he had seen. “You’re quite safe now. I don’t suppose a second shot will be aimed at the same place.”
There was another fierce explosion, very near. Again and again the guns boomed out their thunder. The sounds of bursting shells came clear and sharp, repeated again and again as the bombardment of the town was continued.
“I can’t be of any more use here,” said Seth, returning the revolver to Mrs. Daplin-Gennery. “When the firing stops, you can get out all right. I must go now. I believe Major Redisham’s house has been struck. They’re firing their broadsides right into the heart of the town now! Listen!”
He was back at the ladder; but the lady’s maid held him.
“Don’t leave us!” she implored agitatedly. “It’s not all over yet. Stay where you are.”
He yielded to her entreaties. The enemy ships had gone about and were returning abreast of the town, firing salvos as they passed, steaming very quickly. They must already have got some inkling or suspicion that a squadron of British cruisers was coming down in hot haste from the northward, for abruptly they ceased firing and turned outward, disappearing into the mist. They had run risks out of all proportion to the gain of such a cowardly raid.
Straight across from Wilhelmshaven they had made their bold dash for the English coast to bombard a couple of undefended towns which they might attack without venturing too far south or too far north, or lingering too long. If they stayed no more than one brief hour in English waters and then fled for very life, they had reason. Quick of heel and heavy of hand as they were, they owed their escape wholly to the fog which shielded them.
Coming out from the trench, Seth Newruck ran through the front garden to the edge of the cliff and saw the Kingfisher returning to port with her topmast broken and her bridge badly battered.
He turned in at Major Redisham’s gate, hoping to find Mark. The house had not been touched by the shell fire. Mrs. Redisham and her two daughters and servants had taken refuge in their dug-out. They were excited, but not frightened. Their chief anxiety was about Mark, who had gone out after supper on the previous night and not come back.
Seth offered to make inquiries concerning him, saying he was sure to be all right somewhere, and ran off again.
At the top of the town he encountered Mark in a strange motor-car. Mark pulled up at sight of him.
“Do you know if my people are safe?” he asked.
“Yes. I’ve just seen them,” Seth answered. “They’re only worried a bit to know where you’ve been all night. Whose car have you got?”
“I’m not quite sure,” Mark laughed. “I suppose it may be considered a prize of war. We captured it last night, Challis and I, along with the German spy who was using it. Jump in! There’s no real need for me to go home, now that I know they’re safe. I will telephone to them from the post-office. It’s pretty awful down there. Ever so many people have been killed and injured. Mr. Bilverstone has got a whole troop of nurses and stretcher-bearers at work. Come along, we can help.”
Seth jumped up beside him. They drove past the lighthouse, where a shell had struck and exploded, doing considerable damage, then turned aside to ascertain that Seth’s mother and sisters were safe.
Some dwelling-houses near the Town Hall had been wrecked. Windows were smashed everywhere; an hotel in the market-place was in ruins.
Mark made room for two women and three children who were seriously injured, and conveyed them to the hospital; then he went about the town, using the car for ambulance work and giving first-aid where he could.
The hospital staff, the doctors, with the police, the local Scouts, and many other willing helpers were kept busy. Over thirty persons had been killed, more than a hundred were severely injured. The damage to property could not easily be measured, but the most serious destruction was in the crowded quarters of the old town where the fishermen lived. In the course of his work of taking the injured to the hospital, Mark Redisham called at the police-station. A side of the building had been shattered by one of the German shells. The wall and a part of the roof had fallen in, burying a warder and two prisoners in the ruins. Men were engaged in clearing away the debris of bricks and tiles and heavy wooden joists. They had rescued the warder and one of the prisoners, only slightly hurt.
Mark waited until the third victim should be found. A heavy beam of timber had to be lifted. It was moved at last, and Mark saw what was beneath it.
“It’s the German spy!” he cried. “It’s Fritz Seligmann. He’s dead—quite dead!—killed by his own friends!”