Often, as I have lain here in the long monotony of convalescence7, I have thought how he first emerged out of the clouds in wind and rain, a hurrying spectre glimpsed in sudden flashes, and of how in the end he disappeared again amid the lashing8 tempest, up, up, up, into the shadow of the clouds whence he had come—never to be seen alive by mortal man again.
Surely, it is not hard to fancy him a kind of spirit of the sky, visiting this war-scourged land of France, and withdrawing to his kindred elements when his tragic9 work was done.
It seems fitting that this creature of fate should have come and gone in this way; that there should have been no prosy beginning or end to his career. And I am glad, Roy, for your sake, and for mine and for his and—yes, for the sake of his sturdy champion, Archer10—that only a few of his earlier and more conspicuous11 exploits are known and remembered.
I have it from Archer that the night of this first strange thing which I am about to tell was of intense darkness and incessant12, wind-blown rain. Occasionally, he said, quick, sharp flashes of lightning illumined the sky and at such times he could see the clouds, as he said, “churrned up like clabberred milk.”
It was the terminating storm of a long season of rain which had wrought13 havoc to the roads and railroad lines—already in sorry plight14 from overuse and German artillery15 fire. Great dependence16, it seemed, was placed upon those sturdy youngsters of the Motorcycle Corps17, particularly just then, when the wires were down, their supporting poles sprawling18 in mud or flood.
Archer told me that on that night they could plainly see from Nancy, where he was stationed, the little church in Chateau19 Seulans across the Lorraine border, and could distinguish pigmy figures of German sentries20 there, so vivid was the lightning at times.
He says that he had not seen Slade for nearly a year, though I hardly think it could have been as long as that. In any case, he had been stationed at Nancy for a month or two and his duties in the quiet sector21 (Sleepy Hollow, they called it) were hardly more exciting than those of an American letter-carrier. It rained almost unceasingly, the soldiers drilled and played cards, and baled out their trenches22, which were “running rriverrs,” to quote my young friend. Sometimes Fritzie made a night raid and the boys in khaki made a party call for good manners. But there wasn’t much going on.
“What would you do if you had a real job—something urrgent?” Archer says one of the boys asked him.
“I’d take carre of it, all right,” he answered.
“You’d need a boat to get from here to Chaumont now,” the other fellow said. “Did you look into Mess Dugout 4? It’s nothing but a mudhole.”
“Wherre I’m sent, I’ll go,” said Archer. “I don’t carre if it’s to Berrlin.”
“Would you make a try for Paris if you had a message for General Pershing?” his companion teased.
“No, I’d send worrd to General Perrshing to come herre and get it,” Archer retorted; which apparently23 ended the talk.
At last something happened. In the latter part of the afternoon they got a signal from the squint24 bag[1] and hauled the thing down, the rain pattering upon its taut25 bulk and streaming off like a waterfall. The occupant of its cosy26 little car announced that the Germans seemed to be massing all the way from Frouard to the Marne Canal, and that barges27 were moving westward28 along the Canal from La Garde. The observer thought they might be bringing troops from the railroad town of Berthelingen, or from Azoudange, where the prison camp was. It had long been necessary for the Germans to rob Peter to pay Paul and if they were depleting29 their guard at the great camp it probably meant that some big enterprise was in the air. A flier was promptly30 sent up to reconnoiter eastward31, but the weather was too much for him and he came down like a drowned bat.
By dusk, the wind was blowing a gale32 out of the southwest, driving the rain in sheets so that the squint bag which had ascended33 again pulled and strained at its anchorage, dragging sideways and jerking for all the world like some monstrous34 fish on the line. They soon hauled it down for fear of the cable snapping. A drenched35 courier arrived from Colombey, below Toul, with the news that every wire in that section was down and in a hopeless tangle36 and the rails west of Neufchateau were sunken in swamp. When you hear mention of railroads in France you must put out of your thoughts altogether the Pennsylvania and the New York Central—even the Erie, I am tempted37 to say; for these roads here are mere38 toy lines with ridiculous puffing39 slow-poke engines and tracks which disappear on the smallest provocation40.
A little before dark, Archer tells me, he was summoned before his superiors and asked if he believed he could get as far as Brienne, or perhaps Troyes, with a message. It was hoped that communication might be open between one or other of those places and Paris, where the commander was at the time. He answered that he believed he could reach Brienne and was despatched at once with messages for transmission, of which, of course, he did not know the contents more than that they pertained41 to the enemy’s movements and were urgent in the extreme.
West of Vaucouleurs he found the roads all but impassible. The wind was blowing a tempest, driving the rain into his face so that he was reduced to picking his way at a snail’s pace. The darkness was intense, save for the occasional gleams of forked lightning which illumined the sky and gilded42 the clouds with a frightful43, portentous44 brightness.
“It was the kind of weatherr,” says Archer, with characteristic humor, “when folks always say, ‘Pity the poorr sailorrs on a night like this.’”
He had passed through Gondrescourt inquiring whether communication was open with points west when he heard the sharp report of an aircraft gun, apparently from somewhere in the town, and looked up just as a flash of lightning lit the sky.
His own simple description of what he saw impressed me very much indeed. “The clouds were small and all feathery like, as if they had been pulled aparrt,” he said; “the edges all ragged45 and very bright, like silverr. It made you feel scarey as if the darrk parrt behind ’em didn’t belong to this worrld at all.”
Well, it was just in that quick flash that he saw moving across one of those illumined patches an airplane, its outline as clear as a silhouette46.
“Forr a minute,” said Archer, with a graphic47 power which surprised me, “it seemed as if it was one of those witches sailing through the sky, and it made me feel creepy, as you might say.”
Then, all in a moment, the darkness closed about it, but, listening, he could hear, in the brief intervals48 of the tumult49, the noise of its propeller, and the sound struck terror to his heart, for he knew by the intermittent50 whir that it was a Hun machine. Archer tells me that this characteristic of the Hun planes makes them always recognizable at night. “Theirr hearrt beats different,” as he said.
They must have been a watchful51 gun crew in the town to spy this vulture of the night, but their shot had done no damage evidently, for the grim thing moved along, visible now and again over the cyclist’s head. When the impediments of marsh52 and washed-out roads caused him to slacken his speed, the flier did so also, maneuvering53 apparently, now visible in the quick flashes, now only heard amid the rain and wind.
At Aubinal they had a searchlight as well as an aircraft gun and, hearing the flier, they threw a long column about the sky and fixed54 him in a circle of light. Then the sharp report of the gun and the machine dipped, for all the world like a boy dodging a pursuer. Twice, thrice, the report rang out, the cyclist pausing among the little group of excited villagers. Twice, thrice, the machine dipped, while the watchers held their breath in suspense55. But the plane resumed its course, still visible in bold relief in the circle of light.
Then suddenly there appeared in the sky another plane (presumably, from somewhere in the neighborhood) rising in pursuit of the enemy craft. So furious was the lashing of the storm that Archer was thrilled with admiration56 at the sight of one of his friends braving the perils57 of that tempestuous58 night to bring down an enemy flier, and as he rode on out of the little town, fighting his own way in the blinding storm, he wondered who the bold pursuer could be—whether French or American.
High amid the tumult he could hear shots, which were presently drowned in the turbulence59 of the storm, and he had no further glimpse of either craft.
“I thought our flierr had hit him and sent him down,” said Archer, “and I says to myself, ‘That fellerr is a hero, all right,’ and I hoped he was an Amerrican. I wonderred what the Hun plane was doing so far behind ourr lines on a night like that, but I didn’t have time to wonderr much. Anyways, I was glad it was overr ’cause it made me feel kind of spooky to see that black thing like a ghost or a witch or something following me. I made up my mind I’d ask about who brought it down, so’s I’d know who it was.”
His way now took him through the flat country east of Brienne where he hoped that his spooky, drenching60 journey might end.
The land here was turned into a quagmire61, his machine splashing through mud and water so that he must pause now and again to wrench62 and haul it out of some mushy hollow.
The country thereabouts was quite unpopulated, consisting of vast flat meadows, entirely63 submerged. The blighting64 Hun line had once embraced the locality, and its refugees had not yet returned to a security so precarious65. So there was not even the dim lamplight from a peasant’s cottage to cheer the hapless messenger.
I have not put young Archer forward as a hero, and I shall not, for I know in whom you are mainly interested, but I think the courage he showed that night was remarkable66. The road, as I understood him, crossed a veritable inland sea on an embankment about a foot submerged and had he verged67 from the invisible causeway he and his machine would have been plunged68 into a considerable depth of water. He was guided by his instinct and such of the fallen poles as had not been washed away.
But it was all quite hopeless, as he realized before he was a quarter of the way across the flooded area. His wheels, sunk in mud, were all but inextricable, and he finally realized, or acknowledged, the terrible predicament he was in. There he was, the plaything of a lashing tempest, marooned69 upon a sunken road, wrenching70 and tugging71 at his wheel as it settled lower and lower in the mud. Above him the thunder crashed, now and again the lightning rent the sky showing the heavens thick with those little restless, feathery clouds. His face felt hot and sore from the beating of the rain against it. I suspect that his nerve was wavering and little wonder.
Then he heard amid the uproar72 the whirring of an airplane and he stood stark73 still listening. Perhaps his distracted mind made him susceptible74 to vague imaginings, and he experienced a feeling of horror at the thought of this uncanny creature of the night hovering75 in the clouds above him, until he realized that it was probably the friendly plane which, having brought down the enemy machine, was on its way with messages to Paris. The thought afforded him a measure of relief and reconciled him to his own desperate plight. What matter, so long as the urgent news were carried? And what an airman he must be who could fly through this inferno76, braving thunder, lightning and storm....
I must tell you this in Archer’s own words.
“I was tugging at my machine, trying to haul it out of the mud, but everry jerrk I gave it I went deeperr in the mud myself. I rememberr how I wrenched77 on the front wheel, this way and that, so my headlight pointed78 every which way and I could see the waterr all around—as much as half a mile on both sides of me, I should think. Be-forre that I didn’t know how much of the country was flooded. I seemed to be in the middle of the ocean, as you might say, only in places there were little islands, like, where the water didn’t quite cover the fields. I knew I couldn’t get my machine out of the mud and I thought I’d be betterr off if I left it and waded79 over to one of those islands because the road I was on was underr waterr and was washing away, sorrt of.
“So I turrned my handle-barr so’s to throw the searrchlight around overr that flooded space and try to decide which way to go. I thought maybe I could get across it quickerr that way; and then run to the nearest town. All of a sudden, while I was throwing my light like that, I hearrd the buzz of an airrplane verry nearr and a very loud whistlin’ sound like this (he simulated a loud, shrill80 whistling) and then I hearrd a splash quite a long way off and then more splashing not so loud.
“I turrned my light in that direction and saw a big airrplane comin’ to a standstill in the waterr and the rain was pourin’ down off its planes just like a waterrfall. I thought it must be the flierr that brought down the Hun machine, and I thought he must be wrecked81 and was dead, maybe.
“Forr a minute I held my handle-barr so’s the light was right on the plane and then I had a good scarre, you can bet, forr I could see plain as day on the body of it and on the rudderr the black cross with a white borrderr like they have on Hun machines!”
The dramatic descent of this apparition82 through that tempestuous storm, and its clear outline as it stood focussed in the circle of brightness thrown by Archer’s headlight, must have been quite enough to disconcert him. For a moment, he says, he stood there trembling, the wind howling about him, the rain beating on his face, the heavy darkness shutting out everything save that meteor-like thing out of the troubled heavens.
Then a figure emerged from under its dripping plane and called to him. In the high wind he could not hear what this apparition said, the voice seeming thin and spent in contrast with the tumult, or, as Archer said, “as if it came from a ghost.” Then he caught the words “landing” and “guide.”
He was not greatly surprised at that, for it was not uncommon83 to find Germans speaking English. For a moment he hesitated, then, drawing his side arm, he stepped forward through the water, toward the strange visitor. Again the man spoke84, but the wind was away from him and Archer could not hear what he said. He confessed that he was not accustomed to encounters with the enemy, but he knew what to do and called, “Hold up your hands if you surrenderr; if you don’t, I’ll shoot”; all the while wading85 through the flooded meadow.
“HOLD UP YOUR HANDS; IF YOU DON’T, I’LL SHOOT.”
The stranger, so he says, raised his hands very leisurely86 and lifted his goggles87 up on his forehead, for all the world like some dear old grandma, which tickled88 Archer’s funny bone. This finicky little act seemed odd in one of those adventurous89 denizens90 of the sky, and I have heard others besides Archer speak of it. Then the stranger, standing91 there amid the screaming wind and blinding storm, raised his hands as if to surrender. But Archer was not unfamiliar92 with the “kamarad” game, and he advanced cautiously. The screaming of the wind through the wiring of the machine was terrific but through it, as he stumbled along, he fancied (I quote his own words) that he could “hearr the worrd ‘souveneerrr’ as if it was in the airrr, sorrt of.”
Then suddenly he stopped amazed to hear these words uttered in plain English:
“I suppose you’re after a piece of this airplane for a souvenir. How is it you ain’t chewin’ an apple?”
He stood where he was, too dumbfounded to speak, and looked at the drenched figure in dismay.
“Can I take my hands down now?” the flier said in a familiar, dull voice, but smiling.
As you probably have guessed, it was none other than Archer’s former comrade, Tom Slade, who stood facing him.
“’Till I hearrd that about souveneerrrs I neverr thought anything about it,” Archer said, as a sort of climax93 to this extraordinary episode, and raising his knees high up in the bed as was his custom; “but as soon as he reminded me of it I made up my mind I’d get a piece of that bloomin’ machine to take home—by Christopherrr!”
That seemed to be the main consideration with him.
“Do you think you are fonder of souvenirs than of apples?” I inquired slyly, for his narrative94 was interrupted by the nurse’s bringing him one from a box of them which I understood had made a long and patriotic95 pilgrimage from the Catskills.
“Therre’s only one thing about apples I like,” he observed, as he took an enormous bite, “and that’s the taste of ’em. Slady used to always kid me about apples—but you can bet yourr life I got three tacks96 out of the leatherr seat of that gol-bloomin’ Hun machine!”
1. Observation balloon.
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sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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veering
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| n.改变的；犹豫的；顺时针方向转向；特指使船尾转向上风来改变航向v.（尤指交通工具）改变方向或路线( veer的现在分词 )；（指谈话内容、人的行为或观点）突然改变；（指风） （在北半球按顺时针方向、在南半球按逆时针方向）逐渐转向；风向顺时针转 | |
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dodging
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| n.避开，闪过，音调改变v.闪躲( dodge的现在分词 )；回避 | |
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scattering
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| n.[物]散射；散乱，分散；在媒介质中的散播adj.散乱的；分散在不同范围的；广泛扩散的；（选票）数量分散的v.散射(scatter的ing形式)；散布；驱散 | |
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propeller
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| n.螺旋桨，推进器 | |
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havoc
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| n.大破坏，浩劫，大混乱，大杂乱 | |
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convalescence
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| n.病后康复期 | |
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lashing
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| n.鞭打；痛斥；大量；许多v.鞭打( lash的现在分词 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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archer
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| n.射手，弓箭手 | |
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conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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incessant
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| adj.不停的，连续的 | |
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wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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plight
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| n.困境，境况，誓约，艰难；vt.宣誓，保证，约定 | |
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artillery
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| n.(军)火炮，大炮；炮兵(部队) | |
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dependence
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| n.依靠，依赖；信任，信赖；隶属 | |
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corps
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| n.(通信等兵种的)部队；(同类作的)一组 | |
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sprawling
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| adj.蔓生的，不规则地伸展的v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的现在分词 )；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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chateau
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| n.城堡，别墅 | |
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sentries
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| 哨兵，步兵( sentry的名词复数 ) | |
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sector
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| n.部门，部分；防御地段，防区；扇形 | |
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trenches
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| 深沟，地沟( trench的名词复数 )； 战壕 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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squint
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| v. 使变斜视眼, 斜视, 眯眼看, 偏移, 窥视; n. 斜视, 斜孔小窗; adj. 斜视的, 斜的 | |
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taut
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| adj.拉紧的，绷紧的，紧张的 | |
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cosy
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| adj.温暖而舒适的，安逸的 | |
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barges
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| 驳船( barge的名词复数 ) | |
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westward
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| n.西方，西部；adj.西方的，向西的；adv.向西 | |
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depleting
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| 使大大的减少，使空虚( deplete的现在分词 )； 耗尽，使枯竭 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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eastward
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| adv.向东；adj.向东的；n.东方，东部 | |
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gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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drenched
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| adj.湿透的；充满的v.使湿透( drench的过去式和过去分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
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tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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puffing
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| v.使喷出( puff的现在分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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provocation
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| n.激怒，刺激，挑拨，挑衅的事物，激怒的原因 | |
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pertained
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| 关于( pertain的过去式和过去分词 )； 有关； 存在； 适用 | |
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gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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portentous
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| adj.不祥的，可怕的，装腔作势的 | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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silhouette
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| n.黑色半身侧面影，影子，轮廓；v.描绘成侧面影，照出影子来，仅仅显出轮廓 | |
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graphic
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| adj.生动的，形象的，绘画的，文字的，图表的 | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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intermittent
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| adj.间歇的，断断续续的 | |
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watchful
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| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
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marsh
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| n.沼泽，湿地 | |
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maneuvering
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| v.移动，用策略( maneuver的现在分词 )；操纵 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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perils
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| 极大危险( peril的名词复数 )； 危险的事（或环境） | |
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tempestuous
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| adj.狂暴的 | |
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turbulence
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| n.喧嚣，狂暴，骚乱，湍流 | |
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drenching
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| n.湿透v.使湿透( drench的现在分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
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quagmire
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| n.沼地 | |
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wrench
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| v.猛拧；挣脱；使扭伤；n.扳手；痛苦，难受 | |
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63
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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blighting
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| 使凋萎( blight的现在分词 )； 使颓丧； 损害； 妨害 | |
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precarious
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| adj.不安定的，靠不住的；根据不足的 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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verged
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| 接近，逼近（verge的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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marooned
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| adj.被围困的；孤立无援的；无法脱身的 | |
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wrenching
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| n.修截苗根，苗木铲根（铲根时苗木不起土或部分起土）v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的现在分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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71
tugging
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| n.牵引感v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的现在分词 ) | |
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uproar
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| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
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stark
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| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
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susceptible
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| adj.过敏的，敏感的；易动感情的，易受感动的 | |
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hovering
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| 鸟( hover的现在分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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inferno
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| n.火海；地狱般的场所 | |
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wrenched
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| v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的过去式和过去分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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waded
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| （从水、泥等）蹚，走过，跋( wade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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wrecked
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| adj.失事的，遇难的 | |
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apparition
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| n.幽灵，神奇的现象 | |
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uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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84
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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85
wading
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| （从水、泥等）蹚，走过，跋( wade的现在分词 ) | |
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86
leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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goggles
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| n.护目镜 | |
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tickled
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| （使）发痒( tickle的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）愉快，逗乐 | |
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adventurous
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| adj.爱冒险的；惊心动魄的，惊险的，刺激的 | |
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denizens
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| n.居民，住户( denizen的名词复数 ) | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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unfamiliar
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| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
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climax
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| n.顶点；高潮；v.(使)达到顶点 | |
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narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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patriotic
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| adj.爱国的，有爱国心的 | |
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tacks
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| 大头钉( tack的名词复数 )； 平头钉； 航向； 方法 | |
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