A Watch-dog of the North Sea: A Naval Story of the Great War by Percy F. Westerman
CHAPTER XXXIV
EXIT OBERFURST
VON OBERFURST awaited the dawn of day with considerable trepidation.For the present he was a free man, but his position was far fromenviable. He was hunted, that he knew. Already a hue-and-cry had beenraised and the desolate moors were being searched with the utmostdiligence and precision.
Having broken out of the prison cell, he had gained the outskirts ofthe little village and had made his way in a north-easterly directionwith the intention of falling-in with the escaped German officers.Soon he was lost in the mist that still hung heavily around the tors.He had neither map nor compass. Both had been taken from him whentaken into custody. Without them he was like a ship without a rudder,and having implicitly relied upon them in his previous adventures, herealised his helplessness.
He was hungry and thirsty. The meagre fare provided at thepolice-station overnight was already forgotten. Food was not to behad, but for drink there were the many moorland rivulets thattrickled down to join the waters of the silvery Dart and other riversthat drain the heights of Dartmoor.
At length he was forced to come to the conclusion that he must hideuntil nightfall--sixteen hours of mental and physical strain. Toattempt to proceed in daylight was to court disaster.
Looking around, the spy discovered a number of irregularly shapedrocks partly hidden by bracken. Towards this spot he made, treadingwarily on stony ground so that his footsteps might not leave traceson the dew-sodden grass. Then carefully, without breaking so much asa solitary stem of bracken, he crept into his place of concealment.
He found himself in a narrow space enclosed by four masses of rock,and sheltered from the sun by the tall bracken. There were hundreds,thousands even, of similar clusters of rocks scattered about thispart of the country, where a man provided with food and water couldhide for days with little fear of discovery. From his place ofconcealment he could command an extensive stretch of moorland withoutshowing his head above the skyline. So far as he could see--for themists were now dispersing--there were no signs of human habitation.
He still retained his automatic pistol. Taken from him at the sametime as were his other belongings, it had been carelessly left on thekitchen table in the constable's cottage, and Oberfurst had takenparticular pains to repossess himself of the weapon ere he shook thedust of his cell from off his feet.
Having taken stock of his surroundings, the spy stretched himself onthe ground, lying on his right side with his face pillowed on hisarm. His ear almost touching the ground enabled him to detect soundsquicker than he might otherwise have done. He was badly in need of arest and sleep, especially as he was contemplating another all-nighttramp; but he knew that he was a noisy sleeper, and on that accounthe feared to run the risk.
Presently a dog barked. The sound came from a long distance. It was along-drawn, deep bark, that boded no good to the fugitive.
"Those English have brought bloodhounds to track me," he muttered."Well, I can hold out until I have only one cartridge left. They willnever again take me alive."
At almost the next moment he felt himself seized by an almostuncontrollable panic. He started to crawl from his lair and runblunderingly and aimlessly across the open moors, if only to put agreater distance between him and the deep-baying hounds.
On second thoughts he decided to remain and hold his own. Nearer andnearer came the unpleasant sounds, until the spy was able to see theanimals.
There were two enormous bloodhounds, unmuzzled, but held in leashesby two powerfully built men, whose heated faces and labouredbreathing bore testimony to the strength and speed of the powerfulbrutes. Behind them rode a sub-inspector and three policemen, neitherof whom was armed so far as the spy could see.
Unerringly the bloodhounds followed the invisible track taken by thefugitive until they reached a spot at less than eighty yards from hisplace of concealment. Here the animals began circling, sniffing thewhile and almost dragging the arms of their custodians from theirsockets.
Breathlessly Oberfurst kept watch. He remembered that he had crosseda small stream close to the place where the hounds were held up. Byso doing he had unwittingly destroyed the scent.
"The first stream we've had to cross, worse luck," said theinspector. "I had my doubts concerning the brutes, and now we'rebaulked."
"They'll pick up the scent on the other side, sir, never fear,"rejoined one of the keepers confidently. "It will be a hundred poundseasily earned."
"The fellow's no fool," declared the inspector. "He struck thisstream on purpose. I'll warrant he's waded a hundred yards or more upthe brook on purpose to do us."
"I wish I had," thought the spy, regarding the dogs with returningapprehension, for he could distinctly see the bloodshot eyes, theirheaving, overhung, foam-flecked jaws, and the ivory whiteness oftheir massive teeth.
"Down stream I should think, sir," said another policeman. "He'll bemaking for the coast. Ten to one that's the reason why a Germansubmarine was seen hanging about off Bolt Tail."
"Perhaps," admitted the inspector. "In any case it's no use wastingtime. Lift one of the brutes over, Tomlins; don't let his feet touchthe water. Keep the other this side and see if either picks up thescent afresh."
In his excitement Oberfurst fingered the sensitive trigger of hisautomatic pistol, remembering only just in time that even theslightest touch was sufficient to fire the weapon. Then, placing thepistol on the ground within easy reach, he waited.
At first the hound that had been taken across the stream showed signsof retrieving the scent. Down went his head, up went his tail hetugged furiously at the leash.
"Good old boy!" exclaimed the inspector encouragingly; but he wasdoomed to disappointment, for the animal, after making two or threecircles, came to a standstill with his nose in the air.
"Thought so," continued the inspector. "The fellow's waded along thestream. Hard lines!--we stood a good chance before the military stepin. I hear that nearly five hundred men are being sent fromOkehampton and a whole mob of Boy Scouts."
The police, accompanied by the hounds, moved away, disappearing fromsight in a southerly direction. Oberfurst had obtained yet anotherrespite.
During the heat of the day he lay close, at times dosing fitfully.Tormented by the extreme warmth of the atmosphere, for there was nota breath of wind and the sun beat pitilessly down upon the rock,famished and parched, he endured and waited for dusk.
During the afternoon numbers of soldiers in extended order passed by.Two of them came within ten paces of the spy's lair, keeping theireyes fixed, not upon their immediate surroundings, but on the distantexpanse, as if they expected to get a glimpse of the fugitive as heran across the gorse-covered moor.
Towards seven o'clock the air echoed and re-echoed with the shrillblast of whistles. The troops, or at any rate the bulk of them, werebeing recalled. To his intense satisfaction, Oberfurst saw hundredsof rabbits emerging from their burrows and frisking in the slantingrays of the sun. That was almost an infallible sign that they hadlittle to fear from human beings.
Cautiously the fugitive emerged from his place of concealment. Hislimbs were stiff with remaining for hours in a confined space. Deftlyhe massaged the muscles of his arms and legs, until he felt theirsuppleness returning; then, crouching on all-fours, he stole towardsthe brook that had already done him good service.
Soon he was lapping the clear, running water, taking in copiousdraughts that cooled his parched throat and gave renewed vitality tohis exhausted frame.
"Hands up!"
The words, rapped out peremptorily and unexpectedly, took Oberfurstby surprise. Starting to his feet, he obeyed the order, fullyexpecting to find himself surrounded by a cordon of khaki-clad men.
Instead, he was confronted by a solitary figure clad in the uniformof a scoutmaster. His challenger was a man of more than middle age,bordering, perhaps, on his sixtieth year. He was tall, sparely built,but well knit and erect. His tanned features formed a strikingcontrast to his light grey hair.
"You
As he spoke the scoutmaster produced a whistle. Before he could placeit to his lips the spy's arm dropped. Like a flash he had his captorcovered with his pistol.
"It is now your turn to 'hands up,'" sneered the German. "Obeyinstantly, or you are a dead man."
"Perhaps," rejoined the other coolly. "Meanwhile I will do my utmostto raise an alarm. If I fail, your pistol-shot will complete thework."
Looking the spy straight in the face the scoutmaster again raised hiswhistle. In a flash Oberfurst realised the truth of his opponent'sremarks. After all, he was not "out" with the intention of committingunnecessary murder. His sole anxiety was to break through the cordonand put a safe distance between him and the bleak heights ofDartmoor.
Throwing away the pistol, Oberfurst folded his arms.
"You have won," he remarked simply.
"To avoid further trouble, I will take possession of this littletoy," said the scoutmaster.
He stepped forward a couple of paces and bent to pick up the weapon.As he did so, the spy suddenly lashed out with his left foot. Skilledin the Continental style of boxing, he knew exactly how to gauge hisdistance and kick with the greatest effect.
Taken completely by surprise, the luckless Englishman, who in allgood faith had accepted the spy's surrender, dropped like a log,before he had time to utter a sound.
Coolly Oberfurst regained possession of his pistol, fully expectingto find himself assailed on all sides. Agreeably disappointed, heproceeded to strip his unconscious victim of his coat, gaiters, andhat. This done, he dragged the scoutmaster to the spot where the spyhad lain in concealment.
"He will not recover consciousness for several hours--if he does atall," soliloquised the spy, with a shrug of his shoulders. "That ishis affair, not mine. Now I must assume the character of officer ofBoy Scouts. I wish I were more certain of my new duties."
For a couple of hundred yards Oberfurst proceeded cautiously, then,drawing himself erect, he set off at a swinging pace across themoors. Bluff, not concealment, was to be his watchword.
It was now dusk fast emerging into night. Once more the evening mistswere rising from the swamps in the valleys. Overhead the stars werebeginning to show against the declining after-glow in thenorth-western sky.
For nearly a couple of miles Oberfurst proceeded withoutinterruption. Everything seemed absolutely still, save for the swishof his boots and gaiters through the bracken. It was as if hispursuers had finally abandoned their quest in the belief that thefugitive had contrived to get clear of the district.
Suddenly a whistle resembling the call of the peewit sounded from aspot almost in front, and out of the gorse rose half a dozen youthfulforms clad in the well-known Boy Scout "war-paint."
The spy's first inclination was to take to his heels, but,remembering his resolve and noting the diminutive size of the lads,he stopped.
"What troop do you belong to?" he asked.
"The Endscoombe First, sir," replied the patrol leader. "We're thePeewits."
"Thank goodness I've fallen in with some scouts," rejoined the spy."I have lost touch with my troop--the Third Oakendene. I suppose youhave seen nothing of them?"
The patrol-leader, a sharp-witted Devon lad of about fifteen, "smelta rat." For one thing, he had never heard of the Oakendene Troop; foranother, he was fairly conversant with the disposition of all thescout troops engaged in assisting the military and police to scourthe moors.
"I think we can help you, sir," he replied, almost withouthesitation. "At any rate, we'll put you on the right path. Will youtake charge of the patrol?"
The question was a "feeler." It had the desired effect, for in givingwords of command the spy gave himself away. His knowledge of Britisharmy drill was comprehensive, but of scouting he knew practicallynothing.
The rest of the boys "tumbled" to their patrol-leader's ruse. Withoutshowing suspicion at the unusual orders, they set off in Indian file.
"It's a strange thing that we should lose our scoutmaster and findanother who has lost his troop," remarked the patrol-leader. "Ofcourse we may find him a little further on. We're nearly at the ThreeBridges road now."
"So I believe," rejoined Oberfurst, whose keen ear had detected thesteady tramp of armed men. "In that case you've taken me out of myway. No, I don't blame you, but I'll say 'Good night.'"
He stopped abruptly, determined to give his attentive companions theslip--in a seemingly casual manner if possible, failing that to makea dash for safety.
The patrol-leader waited no longer. A warning succession of blastsupon his whistle rent the night air. Oberfurst found himselfconfronted by a ring of staves.
His hand flew to his pocket. The patrol-leader caught the dull glintof metal. Like a flash his staff descended upon the spy's wrist. Thepistol fell to the ground, while like a pack of hounds the boys threwthemselves upon the German.
Of what happened during the next few seconds none of the scouts had adecided opinion. All they knew was that while they were attempting tosecure the man as he lay kicking and struggling on the ground therewas a muffled report. One of the lads, uttering an involuntary cry ofpain, clapped his left hand to his right arm. The spy, after writhingconvulsively for a brief instant, ceased to struggle.
Alarmed by the whistle and the pistol-shot, a number of soldiers andpolice hurried up to find their "man" lying insensible on theground and the scouts rendering first aid to their wounded comrade.
"Here's the spy, sir," declared the patrol-leader, addressing an armyofficer. "He shot one of us, so we had to stun him."
The lieutenant bent over the prostrate Hun and flashed a torch-lightin his face.
"You're right, sonny," he said. "It means a hundred pounds to youscouts. Hulloa, though! You need not have troubled to belabour himwith your poles. He's as dead as a doornail."
Otto Oberfurst had kept his vow not to be taken alive. In the m?l?ehe had regained possession of his pistol and had sent a shot cleanthrough his brain. The bullet in passing out had lodged in the arm ofone of the scouts.
A police inspector joined in the examination.
"Yes," he agreed; "he's saved a file of soldiers a job."
"And has done a pack of lawyers out of a fat sum," added thelieutenant grimly.