Biggles Takes it Rough

by W E Johns

  ‘Here, half a mo, old boy,’ put in Bertie. ‘What do we use for grub while he’s away? I mean to say, wild duck with nothing else is going to be pretty tough chewing.’

  Biggles turned to him. ‘What do you expect with it — gravy? If you’re thinking of green peas and new potatoes, forget it. Just let me finish what I was going to say.’ He turned back to Algy. ‘Tell the Chief what has happened, what we know and what we suspect. Having done that, ask him if he can lay on a Royal Navy frogman to find out why the Gannet went to the bottom. If nothing else he could salvage some of the grub for us. If it was properly packed in watertight containers, as I ordered, it should be all right.’

  ‘Is that all?’

  ‘No. If the Air Commodore can persuade the Navy to send over a salvage crew to raise the boat so much the better. The Navy is bound to have equipment somewhere on the West Coast, and we’ve helped them often enough. It may not be necessary for you to go all the way home. You’ll have to land somewhere to refuel, so see what you can do on the phone. Point out that I feel this isn’t the moment to bring civil salvage people to Tola. Get back as soon as you can. We’ll come with you to the machine and take out the iron rations and anything else likely to be useful.’

  ‘Am I doing this trip alone?’ inquired Algy.

  ‘Yes. The less weight the machine has to carry the more grub you’ll be able to bring back. I leave that to you. You’ll know what we’re likely to want. I’d rather not have to rely on Rod’s gun.’

  ‘I’ve only six cartridges left in my pocket, anyway,’ informed Rod.

  ‘Chuck in a few loaves of bread, old boy,’ pleaded Bertie. ‘I do like my bread. And a spot of fresh butter to fry the trout in.’

  ‘What are you going to use for frying the trout in, anyway?’ inquired Biggles.

  ‘I can help you there,’ put in Rod. ‘Rather than make a fug cooking in the cabin I took one or two things ashore, among them a frying-pan for bacon and eggs. There’s also a kettle, a teapot, my fishing-tackle bag and one or two odds and ends.’

  ‘That’s fine,’ declared Biggles. ‘Where are they?’

  Rod jerked a thumb. ‘In that wreck of a cottage just behind us, to keep ‘em out of the rain. It was raining when I got here.’ He stopped and looked at Biggles with a strange expression on his face. ‘Just a minute. This has reminded me of something. Now I know there’s somebody here — unless the gulls have taken to drinking bottled beer.’

  Biggles stared. ‘What are you talking about?’

  Rod explained. ‘When I left here on my shooting trip, reckoning I’d be thirsty when I got back I put ashore a bottle of beer, an opener and a glass. Under the shock of seeing the boat had disappeared I clean forgot the beer.’

  ‘Where did you put it?’

  ‘On that flat rock you’re standing on now. It’s a ready-made seat.’

  ‘Well, it isn’t here now.’

  ‘That’s what I mean. The skunk who sank my boat must have scoffed my beer.’

  ‘You’re quite sure you put it on that rock?’

  ‘Absolutely certain. No doubt about it.’

  There was silence for a minute while this significant piece of information was digested. Then Biggles said: ‘Then there must be somebody here. I wonder what he did with the bottle. Did he take it away with him or did he drink the beer on the spot? If he drank it here he’d throw the bottle away.’

  ‘What’s the use of an empty bottle?’ asked Rod, with gentle sarcasm. ‘It’d be smashed if it fell on the rocks, anyhow.’

  Biggles did not answer. He began searching between the boulders near the flat rock. The others joined him in the search. Some glass was found that might have been the tumbler. Presently Rod called: ‘Here it is. Not broken, either.’ He stooped as if to pick it up.

  ‘Don’t touch it,’ said Biggles quickly.

  Rod looked up, startled. ‘What’s the idea? I thought you wanted it.’

  ‘I do.’ Biggles took out his handkerchief and covering his hand with it picked up the bottle.

  ‘Like I said, it’s empty,’ observed Rod.

  ‘Never mind the beer, it’s the bottle I want,’ answered Biggles. ‘A man would have to be a magician to take the cap off a bottle of beer without leaving his finger-prints on it. There’s just a chance this may tell us something. Another little job for you, Algy. Get this to the Fingerprint Bureau at the Yard and ask ‘em if they can identify an old customer.’

  ‘I get it,’ acknowledged Algy.

  ‘All right. Now we’ll get on with the job. Let’s go back to the machine. It may be a good thing it isn’t staying here, or we’d have to put a guard on it in case our unknown friend tried to scuttle that, too.’ Biggles studied the rising ground behind him. ‘If he doesn’t see us go back to the machine he may suppose we’ve all gone off in it, and thinking he again has the place to himself, come into the open. I can’t see anybody, but I wouldn’t expect to unless the fellow’s crazy. Let’s go. Careful with that bottle, Algy.’

  As they walked along the short strip of beach Biggles went on: ‘You know, there’s one thing that puzzles me about this business. What was the object of scuttling the Gannet?’

  ‘To maroon me here, what else?’ answered Rod.

  ‘I’d have thought that was the last thing the man responsible would have wanted. I’d have supposed he’d be only too anxious to see you push off and leave him alone.’

  ‘Maybe he thought I’d starve to death, which might easily happen to anyone cast away here. He wasn’t to know I had a gun, and with it could keep going at least for some time.’

  ‘I wonder could he have been tipped off that you were on the way here. Have you seen a boat of any sort near the island?’

  ‘No. There hasn’t been one. I’d swear to that.’

  ‘You couldn’t see both sides of the island at the same time.’

  ‘I’ve told you a landing is impossible on the far side. I was always on this side, and a boat couldn’t get in anywhere else.’

  ‘Maybe that aircraft you heard brought a warning you were on the way here, or had been talking of coming here.’

  ‘Could be.’

  ‘Now let me ask a question,’ requested Ginger. ‘You keep saying “he”, as if you were sure there was only one man here. Why shouldn’t there be two of ‘em, or three, or even more?’

  ‘You make a point,’ conceded Biggles. ‘Maybe we’re wrong in assuming there’s only one. That’s something we shall prove one way or another in due course.’

  ‘Then you intend to stay here?’ queried Rod.

  ‘Of course. We’re not in the habit of leaving a job half done. I’m beginning to get really interested, anyway. But here we are. Let’s unload anything we’re likely to want so that Algy can get away.’

  ‘What are you going to do with the stuff?’ asked Bertie.

  ‘We might as well take it along to that cottage Rod has been using, unless we can find somewhere better.’

  ‘What about the castle, old boy? I’ve always wanted to live in a castle.’

  Biggles answered seriously. ‘I think, at the moment, that would be a good place to keep away from.’

  ‘You think our unknown friend, or friends, might have jumped our claim?’

  ‘It’s a possibility.’

  ‘This Robinson Crusoe stuff is going to be a bit draughty,’ sighed Bertie, as Algy started to hand things out of the Kestrel. First came the small carton containing the emergency rations.

  ‘What’s in that?’ asked Rod, curiously.

  ‘Biscuits, a couple of cans of bully beef, tins of butter, jam, sugar, cheese, condensed milk and tea.’

  ‘What’s the idea of humping that round with you?’

  ‘Call it force of habit. It doesn’t take up much room. We sometimes find ourselves in queer spots, with no restaurant round the corner; not normally in this machine, but on long-range jobs. As it happens this is a case in point. Algy, you’ll find a hundred box of cigarettes in the pocket by my seat. I�
�ll have them. And the haversacks with our small kit. No reason why we shouldn’t wash occasionally.’ Biggles threw Rod a smile. ‘We always keep civilized as long as possible.’

  ‘Want the binoculars?’ queried Algy, from the cabin.

  ‘Yes. They might well come in handy. And we’ll have our pistols out of the magazine with a few clips of bullets.’

  ‘Do you really think you might need those?’ asked Rod, raising his eyebrows.

  ‘I hope not, but a man who’s prepared to scuttle an expensive boat would probably go further if he thought he had nothing to lose — or something to gain. I hate lumbering myself up with ironmongery, but there are occasions on our job when a gun can be a more effective argument than words. I’m nothing for fist fighting.’

  The unloading continued until everything thought likely to be of use lay in a heap on the beach. Biggles put an electric torch in his pocket.

  ‘Okay, Algy, that’s the lot,’ he called. ‘Away you go. Get back as soon as you can, but don’t take chances. We shall be all right.’

  Algy waved a hand, closed the door, and in a couple of minutes was in the air, swinging out over the sullen water.

  ‘Let’s get this stuff to our nice little lodging, all mod. cons, laid on and right facing the sea, as they say in the advertisements,’ ordered Biggles cheerfully. ‘Rent free into the bargain. What more do we want?’

  ‘I want a castle,’ said Bertie plaintively.

  ‘Perhaps Rod will let you live in this one when he’s got it tidied up,’ returned Biggles consolingly.

  CHAPTER 3

  FIRST PRECAUTIONS

  THE little grey dwelling, squat, ugly, colourless, its reed-thatched roof crumbling and sagging at the eaves and wearing the forlorn expression of something abandoned and forgotten, was not as uncomfortable inside as Ginger expected. It consisted of a single room, with its feet in the heather, standing four square to the winds of heaven which it had been built to endure. The doorway, although some of the unmortared stones had slipped awry, still seemed to brace itself in an attitude of defiance. A small lean-to attached to the side of the house had apparently been the toilet. A short distance away an untidy heap had obviously been the rubbish dump.

  Inside the living-room the floor was bare earth, hard packed from generations of use. There was a simple stone fire-place, no oven, but with two iron bars across the top to carry a pot. Close to it lay a little pile of kindling sticks which Rod said he had gathered. The only article that might, with a little imagination, come into the category of furniture, was a log about four feet long which must have been washed ashore some time in the past. Hewn flat on top it might have been used as a table or a seat. Two long niches had been built into the walls. One of them was half filled with dead bracken.

  ‘That’s been my bed,’ said Rod, smiling.

  ‘Just the job,’ replied Biggles.

  ‘That was what it was intended for in the first place. The folks who once lived here had more sense than to go upstairs into a cold bedroom. They had only one floor. They stayed where a peat fire was burning and never allowed to go out.’

  ‘Must have been a bit of a fug,’ suggested Bertie.

  ‘Better a fug than freeze in your bed,’ said Rod.

  Signs of his occupation were there; the few culinary utensils he had brought ashore, a can of fresh water, and, what pleased Biggles most, a primus stove. ‘That’s grand,’ he said. ‘Just what we need.’

  ‘What’s grand about it?’ asked Rod.

  ‘We can boil a kettle without lighting a fire.’

  ‘What’s wrong with lighting a fire, anyhow?’

  ‘Fires make smoke.’

  ‘So what. Any reason why I shouldn’t make as much smoke as I like on my own property?’

  ‘I’m not ready yet to inform our unknown neighbour that we’re here.’

  ‘But he’ll know all about that when we go to the castle.’

  ‘Who said anything about going to the castle?’

  Rod looked surprised. ‘I thought that’d be the first thing you’d do.’

  ‘Not on your nellie. That may come later, but for the moment I’m not chasing anyone round your castle walls. I’d rather he came to us.’

  ‘Surely that’s a bit optimistic. What gives you the idea that he’ll come looking for us?’

  ‘Common sense plus a little knowledge of human nature. In a tricky situation it’s often a good thing to put yourself in the position of the other bloke. Judging from what you yourself would do, can give you a lead as to what he’s likely to do. In our case let’s put it like this. First we must assume that the rat who nobbled your boat is still here. We may be wrong. If we are we shall soon know. Anyway, for the sake of argument let’s say he’s still here. It’s reasonable to suppose he’ll be just as anxious to know what we’re doing as we are to know what his game is. At the moment he can’t even be sure you’re here. He must have heard our machine come in. It’s likely that he saw it, in which case he’d realize it had landed on the beach. You can’t see the castle from the beach, so it follows you can’t see the beach from the castle.’ Biggles paused. ‘Are you with me so far?’

  ‘Sure. You’re so right.’

  ‘Very well. This is where he starts wondering. What’s the aircraft doing? Why has it come here? How many people came with it? And so on. He’d probably jump to the most obvious conclusion; that you made some provision to be picked up if things went wrong, or maybe bring in some extra stores. Presently he sees the aircraft take off again. That is bound to leave him wondering whether you’ve gone or are still here. I’d wager that at this very moment he’s staring in this direction, hoping that if there is somebody here he’ll show himself. Eventually, when nothing happens, his curiosity will get the better of him, and he’ll do a spot of scouting to settle the question. Until he’s done that he’ll have to think twice before he lights a fire to brew himself a cup of tea, because a fire means smoke, and that would tell anyone here, if there was somebody here, exactly where he was. So, I say, this is where we play a little game of cat and mouse. He’s the mouse. We’re the cat. If we wait long enough the mouse will come out of its hole. We can afford to wait. It’ll be two or three days before Algy can get back. Thinking things over I may have missed an opportunity there.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Before he left I should have asked Algy to make a circuit of the island, keeping low.’

  ‘It’s unlikely he would have seen anyone.’

  ‘Agreed; but it would have suggested you were having a last look round before leaving. However, it doesn’t matter. It wasn’t important. At the moment I have a feeling inside that tells me it’s past lunch time. Let’s have something to eat. We shall have to go light on rations, though, in case Algy is delayed. Ginger, you might be opening some of these tins and get the kettle boiling.’ Biggles got up. ‘By the way, Rod, where do you get your drinking water?’

  ‘There are several springs in the bank behind us.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’ asked Ginger.

  ‘Have a look round.’ Biggles turned back to Rod. ‘Can we see the castle from the top of this ridge behind us?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Then I’d like to have a look at the lie of the land. Moreover, there’s just a chance that your undesirable tenant may already be on his way here, or to some point from which he can get a squint at the harbour. We’d look silly if we were taken by surprise.’

  ‘Okay.’

  Biggles picked up the binoculars. ‘Roughly how far is it from the ridge to the castle?’

  ‘I’d say getting on for half a mile.’

  ‘All right. Let’s go. You’ve been around, so you can show me the landmarks.’

  Accompanied by Rod, Biggles set off up the sloping bank towards the ridge that cut off their view of the interior of the island.

  They kept flat for the last part, and finally dragged themselves to a position from which, peering through a screen of rough herbage, they could see what lay
beyond the ridge. It was not an attractive prospect. For the most part the ground lay open and windswept, carpeted with heather but with occasional patches of wiry green rushes, indicating the damp spots. In short, it was typical Highland terrain. The ground appeared to be level, but it fell from the higher parts in a series of gentle undulations; which, as Biggles realized, meant that the hollows could conceal any number of people.

  There were only two buildings in sight. Rising clear against the distant skyline they were conspicuous. One was the castle, and the other, from its shape, was unmistakably the abandoned lighthouse.

  The naked eye, revealing nothing more, Biggles took the binoculars from their case, and having taken the precaution of pulling out the shades to prevent the lenses from glinting, focused them. It took him some minutes to survey the buildings and reconnoitre the intervening ground.

  ‘See anything of interest?’ asked Rod.

  ‘Not a thing. Not a movement anywhere. Not a smudge of smoke. Take a look for yourself.’ He passed the glasses.

  Rod took a turn and presently confirmed what Biggles had said. ‘If there’s anyone at this end of the island he must be inside the castle, or possibly the lighthouse,’ he surmised.

  ‘Where are the cottages you told us about?’

  ‘In a hollow a bit to the left of us.’

  ‘And the loch?’

  ‘That’s still farther to the left. The stream that runs out of it reaches the sea at the southern end.’

  ‘Some way from the castle?’

  ‘Yes. Two miles or more.’

  ‘Good. Let’s go back.’

  They returned to the house to find such food as was available, and a pot of tea, waiting for them.

  ‘Anything doing, old boy?’ asked Bertie.

  ‘No sign of the enemy so far,’ returned Biggles. With a glance at Rod he went on: ‘Was there anything left of the game you shot?’

  ‘Only the bones and I threw those into the sea. I would have gone out hunting again this morning, but I daren’t leave the beach in case you turned up. Why? Would you like me to go out and knock off the odd bird or a rabbit?’