WAR STORIES.

Auckland Star, Volume XLVI, Issue 70, 23 March 1915, Page 8

WAR STORIES.

THE LIGHT IN THE MILL 3TAIE OF twi BOMBARDMENT OF ANTWERP. [(By CAPTAIN CHARLES GILSOX.) PART IL Tom, seating ihimself upon the bed, lad no difficulty in reading the letter, which, iras written in a large, bold, Teutonic hand. It is necessary that our heavy batteries know the exact whereabouts of $he following:— » (1) The British headquarters. ; (2) The British ammunition depot. (3) The headquarters of the Belgian •iaff. (4) All troops held in reserve. Discover what yon can, and signal out ito the windmSl at Vieux Dieu- which is in direct comnnmicaticm with us. If your messages get through you will be recommended for the Iron Cross. The signature at the "Dottom was illegible, not being in the same handwriting as th« letter itself. Tom Wedgewood folded the paper, and put it in his tpoeket. He was now face ±of -f ace rwith the full of Sprundel, wfco, professing to be a neutral, was!in the pay of the German Secret Service, and who was probably a German by birth. _ .As." silently as possible, the boy climbed the ladder, to find himself upon the roof. The fires in the city had spread. The sky was purple, in places red like blood, which even then was being shed so wantonly. On every side the great shells ware shrieking like living things driven mad by torment.. At the farther end of the Toof two men stood dose together, their figures silhouetted, against a blazing fire to the couth. One of these was Sprundel; the i "in. other a man.whom Tom had never seen before —a thin man whose head and shoulders towered above his companion. Tom could hear their voices quite distinetrv. They spoke together in German. "What come 3 next?"' asked Sprundel. The tall man fumbled in his pocket for a moment. "1 have lost the letter." said he. '"1 must have dropped it on the stairs."' "Go back," said Sprundel, '"and look for it." The other laughed. 'There is no need lor that." he answered: "my memory is good. The British ammunition is stored in the Grande Chassee. One shell will explode the .lot.". Bending down. Sprundel picked up the email signalling-lamp, and immediately there was audible the irregular ticking of the Morse code. The so-called Dutchman had had no time to sisnal more than three letters before Tom Wedgewood Hew at his ihroat like a mad dog. Sprundel came down full-length upon the r<>of. dragging Tom with hiei, and knocking over the signalling-lamp in his fall. Sprundel s accomplice whipped a revolver from his poelwt. and most cprtaiiily would have fired, had not the two struggling forms been so closely locked together. For a moment the thin man was undecided. He dare not fire for fear of hitting Sprundel. Then, seizing his revolver by the muzzle, he endeavoured to deal the English boy a stunning blow.on the head. Fortunately he missed. The butt end of the revolver fell harmlessly upon Tom's shoulder. Whereupon, the tall man raised the weapon to strike again. Tom. realising that he must leave Sprundel. sprang sharply to his feet. The tall man drew bacK to gain space in which to fire. That step backward was his own undoing, for it brought him to the very ed<re of the roof. He fired once, but war, never given time to fire a second shot. For Tom let out with his fist, and caught the spy a shattering blow on the chin. The man tottered for an instant, and then went over backward, to be dashed to eternity upon the hard cobbles of the street, fifty feet below. As he turned, Tom became conscious of a etinging sensation in the shoulder. Then it was that he realised far the first time that he was wounded. Warm blood was flowing to hi= waist. The revolver builei had torn a way for itself beneath the collar-bone, and the whole of his left arm was already aching. We give no thought to par-n in the moments of tie greatest excitement. Aβ Tom Wedgewood carried hie hand to his wound, he looked about him, and saw that Sprondel had eeca-ped. There wae no sign of anyone on the roof; the head of the ladder had disappeared from tte skylight. Just then, a shell burst near at hand, *nd tive explosion iiraß followed by a noise of a hanging door. Tom, going down on hands and krtees, crawled to Uμ edge oi tite too£, and looked down ini< . the Kfcßeeffc. There he saw the epy, lam ton in hand, flinging open tttre doors o: ttegeip "*«• h» tept Mb motar-CM

Sprandel entered the d'an-kness of the gairage. andi presently a motor-car backed out into the street, turned with difficulty, and then started off towards the Porte dee Molines at the rate of forty miles an hour. Tom Wedgewood realised the .truth as in a flash. Unable to signal to the windmill at Vieux Dieu, tlhe epy was going there himself to send hie message to the German lines.

Tow waibed to think no more. Rufehing .to the opem skylight, he sprang down, alighted on his feet, and then hastened down the stairs.

Spnmdsl had gone to tho soufh. There was no doubt he intended to leave .the city by the Porte dee Malmcs, across which passes the main Toad that leads to the southern forte. It took thy boy not more than a few minutes to reach hie own (house, to spring into his motor-car, and set forward in pursuit.

He found the gate guarded by a detachment of Belgian soldiers. To these he gave the countersign, which enabled him to pass. He learnt that the epy had passed through a few minutes hi advance. Sprundel had somehow gained possession of the password, and was now probably neairing the windmill at Vieux Dieu.

Tom was obliged to go slowly over the bridge, because of the mines which had b«en placed under every pier ready .to blow up the bridge at a moment's notice; but, once safely across, he moved forward at a breakneck speed, the great cat droning like -a monster bee.

By dint of the fact that he was . travelling at iorty miles am hour at leaiit, bis journey was by no means devoid of peril. The huge shells of the ereenry were

falling in every direction. Trees, telegraph poles, and lamp-posts had been knocked down, and; lay everywhere across the iroad, when? there were -also great holes several feet in depth. Telegraph wirs lay in coils upon the roadway; while here and there were dead horses and broken carts and wagons. Upon the eastern horizon were visible

the first eigne of dawn. A narrow streak of eteel-grey announced the approach of sunrise. Surely, in .the history of the world, there were few more tragic morn-

Aβ Tom Wedgewood approached the trenches, the reports of the cannon were like a cyclone. The air reverberated with peal upon peal of thunder. For all tha-t, he was now out of danger. The Belgian guns were firing to the south, and the German shells, flying far overhead, were bursting in the southern quarter of the city. Presently, he turned to the left. taking a narrow lan? that 1-ed towards Vieux Dieu. Here, by reason of the trees, the roadway would have been quite dark, had it not been for a farmhouse and several haystacks which I were on fire.

Tom came upon the windmill from the south. As he did so a signallinglamp was ""calling up"' the German lines. To spring out of the car. and climb up the old ramshackle ladder in the windmill, was the work of a few seconds.

He found Sprundel alone. The original inmate of the windmill hid been killed by a shrapnel bullet, aimed at the British trenches.

Forgetful of his wound, the boy hurled himself upon the traitor. The struggle that ensued lasted not many seconds. Sprundel, who was armed with a revolver, would have fired, had not Tom Wedgewood laid hold of his wrist, to which he clung in desperation.

Using all the strength at his disposal, Tow wrenched the revolver from tho spy"* grasp, and then struggled free. He fired twice, and missed. For a moment Sprundel was undecided whether to continue the struggle or to seek safety in flight. It did not take him long to make up his mind; for. wTien Tom fired a third time, the spy sprang down the ladder, jumped into his awn motor-car, and drove off furiously towards the city.

Tom looked about him: and then, on a sudden, a sense of dizziness took possession of him. There wa« no light in the little windmill, save that which came from the opened shutter of the signalling-lamp. It seemed to Tom that this light swung round and round, and then dropped into abysmal depths."

The boy endeavoured to steady himself by leaning against the wall; but hie gav e way from under him, and he fell to the ground in a faint. How long he lav there he was never afterwards able to say. When he came to his senses a man was bending over him whom he recognised as a British officer of marines. It wae then halfdaylight, though the sun had not yet risen. At first, the boy could not recollect what had happened or where h e was. Then the whole truth came upon him as in a. flash. He sprang to his feet, and looked out from the windmill. Far away to the south a signalling-lamp was "calling up" from the German lines. In a few breathless words lie told the officer what had happened, and then, going to the signalling-lamp, he sent the following me9safie: — "What do you want?" "Tou have not yet told us." came back tie answer, "wnwe the British ammunition is stored." Tom Wedge wood hesitated a moment; and then an idea, seized him which was

prompted partly by patriotsm and partly by revenge. "The Aiaiflon Hibou." he signalled back. "The iMaison Hibou!" exclaimed the officer. "Where's that?"' Tom 'Wedgewood laughed. It was the laugh of one who wa* overwrought with excitement and nervous strain. "It's Sprundel's house. It's the house of a spy." For some minutes they waited in the windmill with their eves straining in the semi-darkness towards the German lines. For a while there was silence. The German gunnere were evidently laying their great guns by means of the accurate maps which were in their possession. In these maps every house in every street of Antwerp was clearly marked, i'he scientific accuracy of their firing is well known to all who have fought for the allied cause Presently'the great puns spoT<e in quick succession. The okies buret into thunder as the dawn ros P in the east, and great, living shells tore through the air, directed upon the stricken town. Hour by hour the shelling continued, relentlessly and undiminished in intensity and fury. Throujjhout that day the whole city of Antwerp lay under the scourge of modern war. Towards evening the order came to retire. There were no guns in the forts capable of replying to the German howitzers, and it was decided in the cause of humanity to evacuate the city. If the bombardment continued for many days the whole place would be reduced to ruins, -Antwerp woul-d share the fate of Louvain. The allied troops drew away from the ill-iated city, maintaining their discipline, and in good order. Xear the burning suburb of Vieux Dieu, Tom . Wedgewood said good-bye to the marine i officer who had accompanied him from j the windmill. The officer returned to his men in the trenches, and Tom found hi,, own way back into tlie city, where several houses were now ablaze, the fires spreading with rapidity. In the northern part of the town, on the banks ; of the Scheldt, the Belgians themselves ! had set fir e to several tanks of petro- I leum. In this place the flames were ac j high as hills, and a great column of black smoke rose thousands of feet into the air. The boy drove his motor car slowly through the deserted, ravaged streets. He was obliged to go slowly, since the roadways were so torn up by shell-fire that it was necessary to drive with the utmost caution. It was Tom's intention to go to the northern pontoon bridge, near which he hoped to find his father. Thence they could make their escape towards tho coast. But, before he left the southern part of the city, h e drove to the Maison Hibou. There the sight that met his eyes was such as caused him to stop and get out of his car. to examine a scene that was illustrative of the enormous damage that can b e don c by highangle guns, firing great shells charged with high explosives. A huge shell had struck the building »t its base, and the whole edifice had crumbled to th c ground. Nothing remained but the lower portions of three exterior walls. In the midst of the debris, half buried amid rafters, masonry and plaster, lay the remains of one who had been a spy. Sprundel wa« Do more. He himself was one of the victims of his own treachery and baseness. ■When Tom Wedgewood and his father crossed the pontoon bridge that evening, they halted.at the Tete de Flandre to look back upon a city that was doomed. ISight fell upon a scene that was like a nightmare. From all quarters of the town red flames darted like living tongues, spreading a purple canopy upon the Heavens that rivalled the glories of the sunset. The German shells were •"' still falling like rain in the neighbour- '• hood of the cathedral and the central i railway station. But the town was dei- ! serted —a city of the grave. n I Together, father and son set forward h on their way. with heavy, aching hearts, c i fleeing. lik c thousands of others, before t j the pitiless advance of the modern Hun 3.