War in the Air — 22 -- Ch 9, Parts 8-10
8 There was no pretence after that moment that Bert was under the orders of the Prince or that he was going on with the repairing of the flying-machine.
The two Germans took possession of that and set to work upon it.
Bert, with his new weapon went off to the neighbourhood of Terrapin Rock, and there sat down to examine it.
It was a short rifle with a big cartridge, and a nearly full magazine.
He took out the cartridges carefully and then tried the trigger and fittings until he felt sure he had the use of it.
He reloaded carefully.
Then he remembered he was hungry and went off, gun under his arm, to hunt in and about the refreshment shed.
He had the sense to perceive that he must not show himself with the gun to the Prince and his companion.
So long as they thought him unarmed they would leave him alone, but there was no knowing what the Napoleonic person might do if he saw Bert's weapon.
Also he did not go near them because he knew that within himself boiled a reservoir of rage and fear that he wanted to shoot these two men.
He wanted to shoot them, and he thought that to shoot them would be a quite horrible thing to do.
The two sides of his inconsistent civilisation warred within him.
Near the shed the kitten turned up again, obviously keen for milk.
This greatly enhanced his own angry sense of hunger.
He began to talk as he hunted about, and presently stood still, shouting insults.
He talked of war and pride and Imperialism.
“Any other Prince but you would have died with his men and his ship!
” he cried.
The two Germans at the machine heard his voice going ever and again amidst the clamour of the waters.
Their eyes met and they smiled slightly.
He was disposed for a time to sit in the refreshment shed waiting for them, but then it occurred to him that so he might get them both at close quarters.
He strolled off presently to the point of Luna Island to think the situation out.
It had seemed a comparatively simple one at first, but as he turned it over in his mind its possibilities increased and multiplied.
Both these men had swords,--had either a revolver?
Also, if he shot them both, he might never find the food!
So far he had been going about with this gun under his arm, and a sense of lordly security in his mind, but what if they saw the gun and decided to ambush him?
Goat Island is nearly all cover, trees, rocks, thickets, and irregularities.
Why not go and murder them both now?
“I carn't,” said Bert, dismissing that.
“I got to be worked up.
” But it was a mistake to get right away from them.
That suddenly became clear.
He ought to keep them under observation, ought to “scout” them.
Then he would be able to see what they were doing, whether either of them had a revolver, where they had hidden the food.
He would be better able to determine what they meant to do to him.
If he didn't “scout” them, presently they would begin to “scout” him.
This seemed so eminently reasonable that he acted upon it forthwith.
He thought over his costume and threw his collar and the tell-tale aeronaut's white cap into the water far below.
He turned his coat collar up to hide any gleam of his dirty shirt.
The tools and nuts in his pockets were disposed to clank, but he rearranged them and wrapped some letters and his pocket-handkerchief about them.
He started off circumspectly and noiselessly, listening and peering at every step.
As he drew near his antagonists, much grunting and creaking served to locate them.
He discovered them engaged in what looked like a wrestling match with the Asiatic flying-machine.
Their coats were off, their swords laid aside, they were working magnificently.
Apparently they were turning it round and were having a good deal of difficulty with the long tail among the trees.
He dropped flat at the sight of them and wriggled into a little hollow, and so lay watching their exertions.
Ever and again, to pass the time, he would cover one or other of them with his gun.
He found them quite interesting to watch, so interesting that at times he came near shouting to advise them.
He perceived that when they had the machine turned round, they would then be in immediate want of the nuts and tools he carried.
Then they would come after him.
They would certainly conclude he had them or had hidden them.
Should he hide his gun and do a deal for food with these tools?
He felt he would not be able to part with the gun again now he had once felt its reassuring company.
The kitten turned up again and made a great fuss with him and licked and bit his ear.
The sun clambered to midday, and once that morning he saw, though the Germans did not, an Asiatic airship very far to the south, going swiftly eastward.
At last the flying-machine was turned and stood poised on its wheel, with its hooks pointing up the Rapids.
The two officers wiped their faces, resumed jackets and swords, spoke and bore themselves like men who congratulated themselves on a good laborious morning.
Then they went off briskly towards the refreshment shed, the Prince leading.
Bert became active in pursuit; but he found it impossible to stalk them quickly enough and silently enough to discover the hiding-place of the food.
He found them, when he came into sight of them again, seated with their backs against the shed, plates on knee, and a tin of corned beef and a plateful of biscuits between them.
They seemed in fairly good spirits, and once the Prince laughed.
At this vision of eating Bert's plans gave way.
Fierce hunger carried him.
He appeared before them suddenly at a distance of perhaps twenty yards, gun in hand.
“'Ands up!
” he said in a hard, ferocious voice.
The Prince hesitated, and then up went two pairs of hands.
The gun had surprised them both completely.
“Stand up,” said Bert....
“Drop that fork!
” They obeyed again.
“What nex'?
” said Bert to himself.
“'Orf stage, I suppose.
That way,” he said.
“Go!
” The Prince obeyed with remarkable alacrity.
When he reached the head of the clearing, he said something quickly to the bird-faced man and they both, with an entire lack of dignity, RAN!
Bert was struck with an exasperating afterthought.
“Gord!
” he cried with infinite vexation.
“Why!
I ought to 'ave took their swords!
'Ere!
” But the Germans were already out of sight, and no doubt taking cover among the trees.
Bert fell back upon imprecations, then he went up to the shed, cursorily examined the possibility of a flank attack, put his gun handy, and set to work, with a convulsive listening pause before each mouthful on the Prince's plate of corned beef.
He had finished that up and handed its gleanings to the kitten and he was falling-to on the second plateful, when the plate broke in his hand!
He stared, with the fact slowly creeping upon him that an instant before he had heard a crack among the thickets.
Then he sprang to his feet, snatched up his gun in one hand and the tin of corned beef in the other, and fled round the shed to the other side of the clearing.
As he did so came a second crack from the thickets, and something went phwit!
by his ear.
He didn't stop running until he was in what seemed to him a strongly defensible position near Luna Island.
Then he took cover, panting, and crouched expectant.
“They got a revolver after all!
” he panted....
“Wonder if they got two?
If they 'ave--Gord!
I'm done!
“Where's the kitten?
Finishin' up that corned beef, I suppose.
Little beggar!
” 9 So it was that war began upon Goat Island.
It lasted a day and a night, the longest day and the longest night in Bert's life.
He had to lie close and listen and watch.
Also he had to scheme what he should do.
It was clear now that he had to kill these two men if he could, and that if they could, they would kill him.
The prize was first food and then the flying-machine and the doubtful privilege of trying to ride it.
If one failed, one would certainly be killed; if one succeeded, one would get away somewhere over there.
For a time Bert tried to imagine what it was like over there.
His mind ran over possibilities, deserts, angry Americans, Japanese, Chinese--perhaps Red Indians!
(Were there still Red Indians?
) “Got to take what comes,” said Bert.
“No way out of it that I can see!
” Was that voices?
He realised that his attention was wandering.
For a time all his senses were very alert.
The uproar of the Falls was very confusing, and it mixed in all sorts of sounds, like feet walking, like voices talking, like shouts and cries.
“Silly great catarac',” said Bert.
“There ain't no sense in it, fallin' and fallin'.
” Never mind that, now!
What were the Germans doing?
Would they go back to the flying-machine?
They couldn't do anything with it, because he had those nuts and screws and the wrench and other tools.
But suppose they found the second set of tools he had hidden in a tree!
He had hidden the things well, of course, but they MIGHT find them.
One wasn't sure, of course--one wasn't sure.
He tried to remember just exactly how he had hidden those tools.
He tried to persuade himself they were certainly and surely hidden, but his memory began to play antics.
Had he really left the handle of the wrench sticking out, shining out at the fork of the branch?
Ssh!
What was that?
Some one stirring in those bushes?
Up went an expectant muzzle.
No!
Where was the kitten?
No!
It was just imagination, not even the kitten.
The Germans would certainly miss and hunt about for the tools and nuts and screws he carried in his pockets; that was clear.
Then they would decide he had them and come for him.
He had only to remain still under cover, therefore, and he would get them.
Was there any flaw in that?
Would they take off more removable parts of the flying-machine and then lie up for him?
No, they wouldn't do that, because they were two to one; they would have no apprehension of his getting off in the flying-machine, and no sound reason for supposing he would approach it, and so they would do nothing to damage or disable it.
That he decided was clear.
But suppose they lay up for him by the food.
Well, that they wouldn't do, because they would know he had this corned beef; there was enough in this can to last, with moderation, several days.
Of course they might try to tire him out instead of attacking him-- He roused himself with a start.
He had just grasped the real weakness of his position.
He might go to sleep!
It needed but ten minutes under the suggestion of that idea, before he realised that he was going to sleep!
He rubbed his eyes and handled his gun.
He had never before realised the intensely soporific effect of the American sun, of the American air, the drowsy, sleep-compelling uproar of Niagara.
Hitherto these things had on the whole seemed stimulating....
If he had not eaten so much and eaten it so fast, he would not be so heavy.
Are vegetarians always bright?...
He roused himself with a jerk again.
If he didn't do something, he would fall asleep, and if he fell asleep, it was ten to one they would find him snoring, and finish him forthwith.
If he sat motionless and noiseless, he would inevitably sleep.
It was better, he told himself, to take even the risks of attacking than that.
This sleep trouble, he felt, was going to beat him, must beat him in the end.
They were all right; one could sleep and the other could watch.
That, come to think of it, was what they would always do; one would do anything they wanted done, the other would lie under cover near at hand, ready to shoot.
They might even trap him like that.
One might act as a decoy.
That set him thinking of decoys.
What a fool he had been to throw his cap away.
It would have been invaluable on a stick--especially at night.
He found himself wishing for a drink.
He settled that for a time by putting a pebble in his mouth.
And then the sleep craving returned.
It became clear to him he must attack.
Like many great generals before him, he found his baggage, that is to say his tin of corned beef, a serious impediment to mobility.
At last he decided to put the beef loose in his pocket and abandon the tin.
It was not perhaps an ideal arrangement, but one must make sacrifices when one is campaigning.
He crawled perhaps ten yards, and then for a time the possibilities of the situation paralysed him.
The afternoon was still.
The roar of the cataract simply threw up that immense stillness in relief.
He was doing his best to contrive the death of two better men than himself.
Also they were doing their best to contrive his.
What, behind this silence, were they doing.
Suppose he came upon them suddenly and fired, and missed?
10 He crawled, and halted listening, and crawled again until nightfall, and no doubt the German Alexander and his lieutenant did the same.
A large scale map of Goat Island marked with red and blue lines to show these strategic movements would no doubt have displayed much interlacing, but as a matter of fact neither side saw anything of the other throughout that age-long day of tedious alertness.
Bert never knew how near he got to them nor how far he kept from them.
Night found him no longer sleepy, but athirst, and near the American Fall.
He was inspired by the idea that his antagonists might be in the wreckage of the Hohenzollern cabins that was jammed against Green Island.
He became enterprising, broke from any attempt to conceal himself, and went across the little bridge at the double.
He found nobody.
It was his first visit to these huge fragments of airships, and for a time he explored them curiously in the dim light.
He discovered the forward cabin was nearly intact, with its door slanting downward and a corner under water.
He crept in, drank, and then was struck by the brilliant idea of shutting the door and sleeping on it.
But now he could not sleep at all.
He nodded towards morning and woke up to find it fully day.
He breakfasted on corned beef and water, and sat for a long time appreciative of the security of his position.
At last he became enterprising and bold.
He would, he decided, settle this business forthwith, one way or the other.
He was tired of all this crawling.
He set out in the morning sunshine, gun in hand, scarcely troubling to walk softly.
He went round the refreshment shed without finding any one, and then through the trees towards the flying-machine.
He came upon the bird-faced man sitting on the ground with his back against a tree, bent up over his folded arms, sleeping, his bandage very much over one eye.
Bert stopped abruptly and stood perhaps fifteen yards away, gun in hand ready.
Where was the Prince?
Then, sticking out at the side of the tree beyond, he saw a shoulder.
Bert took five deliberate paces to the left.
The great man became visible, leaning up against the trunk, pistol in one hand and sword in the other, and yawning--yawning.
You can't shoot a yawning man Bert found.
He advanced upon his antagonist with his gun levelled, some foolish fancy of “hands up” in his mind.
The Prince became aware of him, the yawning mouth shut like a trap and he stood stiffly up.
Bert stopped, silent.
For a moment the two regarded one another.
Had the Prince been a wise man he would, I suppose, have dodged behind the tree.
Instead, he gave vent to a shout, and raised pistol and sword.
At that, like an automaton, Bert pulled his trigger.
It was his first experience of an oxygen-containing bullet.
A great flame spurted from the middle of the Prince, a blinding flare, and there came a thud like the firing of a gun.
Something hot and wet struck Bert's face.
Then through a whirl of blinding smoke and steam he saw limbs and a collapsing, burst body fling themselves to earth.
Bert was so astonished that he stood agape, and the bird-faced officer might have cut him to the earth without a struggle.
But instead the bird-faced officer was running away through the undergrowth, dodging as he went.
Bert roused himself to a brief ineffectual pursuit, but he had no stomach for further killing.
He returned to the mangled, scattered thing that had so recently been the great Prince Karl Albert.
He surveyed the scorched and splashed vegetation about it.
He made some speculative identifications.
He advanced gingerly and picked up the hot revolver, to find all its chambers strained and burst.
He became aware of a cheerful and friendly presence.
He was greatly shocked that one so young should see so frightful a scene.
“'Ere, Kitty,” he said, “this ain't no place for you.
” He made three strides across the devastated area, captured the kitten neatly, and went his way towards the shed, with her purring loudly on his shoulder.
“YOU don't seem to mind,” he said.
For a time he fussed about the shed, and at last discovered the rest of the provisions hidden in the roof.
“Seems 'ard,” he said, as he administered a saucerful of milk, “when you get three men in a 'ole like this, they can't work together.
But 'im and 'is princing was jest a bit too thick!
” “Gaw!
” he reflected, sitting on the counter and eating, “what a thing life is!
'Ere am I; I seen 'is picture, 'eard 'is name since I was a kid in frocks.
Prince Karl Albert!
And if any one 'ad tole me I was going to blow 'im to smithereens--there!
I shouldn't 'ave believed it, Kitty.
“That chap at Margit ought to 'ave tole me about it.
All 'e tole me was that I got a weak chess.
“That other chap, 'e ain't going to do much.
Wonder what I ought to do about 'im?
” He surveyed the trees with a keen blue eye and fingered the gun on his knee.
“I don't like this killing, Kitty,” he said.
“It's like Kurt said about being blooded.
Seems to me you got to be blooded young....
If that Prince 'ad come up to me and said, 'Shake 'ands!'
I'd 'ave shook 'ands....
Now 'ere's that other chap, dodging about!
'E's got 'is 'ead 'urt already, and there's something wrong with his leg.
And burns.
Golly!
it isn't three weeks ago I first set eyes on 'im, and then 'e was smart and set up--'ands full of 'air-brushes and things, and swearin' at me.
A regular gentleman!
Now 'e's 'arfway to a wild man.
What am I to do with 'im?
What the 'ell am I to do with 'im?
I can't leave 'im 'ave that flying-machine; that's a bit too good, and if I don't kill 'im, 'e'll jest 'ang about this island and starve....
“'E's got a sword, of course”....
He resumed his philosophising after he had lit a cigarette.
“War's a silly gaim, Kitty.
It's a silly gaim!
We common people--we were fools.
We thought those big people knew what they were up to--and they didn't. Look at that chap!
'E 'ad all Germany be'ind 'im, and what 'as 'e made of it?
Smeshin' and blunderin' and destroyin', and there 'e 'is!
Jest a mess of blood and boots and things!
Jest an 'orrid splash!
Prince Karl Albert!
And all the men 'e led and the ships 'e 'ad, the airships, and the dragon-fliers--all scattered like a paper-chase between this 'ole and Germany.
And fightin' going on and burnin' and killin' that 'e started, war without end all over the world!
“I suppose I shall 'ave to kill that other chap.
I suppose I must.
But it ain't at all the sort of job I fancy, Kitty!
” For a time he hunted about the island amidst the uproar of the waterfall, looking for the wounded officer, and at last he started him out of some bushes near the head of Biddle Stairs.
But as he saw the bent and bandaged figure in limping flight before him, he found his Cockney softness too much for him again; he could neither shoot nor pursue.
“I carn't,” he said, “that's flat.
I 'aven't the guts for it!
'E'll 'ave to go.
” He turned his steps towards the flying-machine....
He never saw the bird-faced officer again, nor any further evidence of his presence.
Towards evening he grew fearful of ambushes and hunted vigorously for an hour or so, but in vain.
He slept in a good defensible position at the extremity of the rocky point that runs out to the Canadian Fall, and in the night he woke in panic terror and fired his gun.
But it was nothing.
He slept no more that night.
In the morning he became curiously concerned for the vanished man, and hunted for him as one might for an erring brother.
“If I knew some German,” he said, “I'd 'oller.
It's jest not knowing German does it.
You can't explain'” He discovered, later, traces of an attempt to cross the gap in the broken bridge.
A rope with a bolt attached had been flung across and had caught in a fenestration of a projecting fragment of railing.
The end of the rope trailed in the seething water towards the fall.
But the bird-faced officer was already rubbing shoulders with certain inert matter that had once been Lieutenant Kurt and the Chinese aeronaut and a dead cow, and much other uncongenial company, in the huge circle of the Whirlpool two and a quarter miles away.
Never had that great gathering place, that incessant, aimless, unprogressive hurry of waste and battered things, been so crowded with strange and melancholy derelicts.
Round they went and round, and every day brought its new contributions, luckless brutes, shattered fragments of boat and flying-machine, endless citizens from the cities upon the shores of the great lakes above.
Much came from Cleveland.
It all gathered here, and whirled about indefinitely, and over it all gathered daily a greater abundance of birds.
CHAPTER X. THE WORLD UNDER THE WAR
1
