28 Biggles In Borneo

by Captain W E Johns

  When it reached the top of the bank the Japanese were in plain view, and it appeared to hate them on sight. With a trumpet of rage it charged.

  The Japanese promptly lost all interest in the aircraft, although for this they were hardly to be blamed. Some tried to scramble up the bank ; others, more courageous, or possibly because they realized the futility of running, turned their rifles on the beast. But it takes a well-placed bullet to stop a charging elephant, and in a moment the creature was among them. Everyone on the aircraft, including Biggles, stopped what he was doing to watch.

  At that moment the rain started again in earnest, blotting out the scene. Ginger gasped.

  He could not have imagined such rain. It tumbled out of heaven as if intent on washing the earth out of existence. So eager was it to reach the ground that it did not resolve itself into drops, but lashed the earth in a continuous stream. From one end of the aircraft it was not possible to see the other.

  Biggles beckoned to Algy, and caught Ginger by the arm. "No use trying to do anything in this ! " he bellowed above the noise of falling water. "If it keeps on we may drift past the mill without being

  ,seen."

  Ginger nodded. He realized that when Biggles had said it was no use trying to do anything he was speaking the literal truth. It was impossible to see for five yards, so to attempt to take off, even if they managed to get the engines started, would have been suicidal. The machine was turning slowly as it drifted, so the very position of the banks was lost. Without a stationary object in view it was not possible even to reckon the rate of progress down the river. With its anxious crew peering into the murk, the aircraft drifted on, a scrap of flotsam on a yellow tide.

  "If only this infernal rain would stop we might be able to get off," grumbled Algy.

  "If the infernal rain stopped we should probably be under fire from enemy troops on both sides of the river," murmured Biggles.

  " In other words," put in Ginger, "we are between the devil and the deep blue sea."

  CHAPTER XIII

  ADVENTURES ON THE RIVER

  OME minutes later, very deliberately and quite

  smoothly, the Cayman ran her nose into a bank of shrub-fringed mud. From the shrubs arose a single lightning-blasted tree. Naturally, Ginger thought they had hit one of the banks. The others probably thought so too, although they made no comment. The two Chinese conversed for a moment, and then Fee Wong announced that they had struck an islet. They were able to identify it by the blasted tree. They had already passed the mill, and were about two miles below it.

  "So what do we do ? " inquired Ginger. "Stay here and let the rising water float us off ? "

  Biggles did not answer immediately. He was standing on the nose staring into the rain on the port side. He jumped ashore, scrambled along the mud for a few yards, looked again, and then came back.

  "There's a barge just along there," he announced. "It's half-way up the bank—must have been thrown there by the waves when the dam burst."

  "Anyone on it ? " asked Algy.

  "I didn't see anyone. I think we'd better find out, though, or someone may be taking pot-shots at us any minute." So saying, Biggles drew his revolver and disappeared into the rain.

  Five minutes passed. The aircraft moved slightly. Another five minutes and it moved again.

  "What's he up to ? " muttered Algy irritably—

  referring, of course, to Biggles. "The water is still rising. We may float off at any moment, and if we do he'll be left stranded."

  "Shall I go and hurry him up ? " suggested

  Ginger.

  "Yes, I think you'd better," decided Algy. "When you get ashore I'll throw you the painter, and you can tie her up in case of accidents."

  "Okay," answered Ginger and jumped ashore.

  Now in doing this he had forgotten two things. So, for that matter, had Algy. The first was, that in order to release the aircraft when the elephant had attacked, Biggles had cut the painter so that only a few feet remained attached to the mooring-ring in the nose of the aircraft—certainly not enough to serve the purpose for which it was intended. Ginger stood on the bank and waited for Algy to throw the rope. Algy then discovered that the rope was not long enough, and shouted something to this effect. His voice ended in a yell, for the aircraft was definitely moving. Ginger realized, too late, that this was due to the removal of his weight from the nose, on which he had been standing, and he made haste to correct his error. But his very haste was his undoing, for he slipped on the slimy mud and fell. Even in falling he still tried to grab the nose of the machine, but all he did was to make matters worse. His hands failed to find a grip, so in effect he did the very last thing he wanted to do, which was to give the nose a shove. This was sufficient to push it clear. The machine began to swing. Shouting, Ginger ran along the edge of the mud, hoping that it would drift in again ; but the current now had the aircraft in its grip, and with increasing speed it joined the debris that was floating down on the flood.

  Another moment and it had disappeared from sight in the deluge.

  For a few seconds Ginger stared in dismay at the grey blanket where it had vanished.

  Then he turned and ran—or rather, floundered—through the mire to the barge, the dark bulk of which he could now see. It struck him that there might be enemy troops on the vessel, but he didn't stop ; spurred by calamity, he staggered forward, concerned only with finding Biggles and letting him know what had happened.

  The barge lay tilted slightly on its side on the mud. It was surrounded by water, shallow where it had driven ashore, but deep at the stern end. Ginger scrambled aboard. The barge was loaded with something ; he did not stop to examine the cargo because it was covered by lashed tarpaulins. Not a soul was in sight, so he ran down the catwalk to the stern, where a vertical metal exhaust pipe indicated—as he imagined—a stove.

  Reaching the companion-way he shouted, " Hi I Biggles ! "

  A voice answered him from the depths, so he hastened down a short flight of steps to a small square compartment that was a combination of cabin and engine-room. He noticed several pieces of Japanese uniform, apparently left behind by the crew in their hasty flight. Biggles was there. He was bending over something. As Ginger approached he lookea back over his shoulder with a smile of satisfaction.

  "This is a bit of luck," he said cheerfully. "I hadn't realized, although I suppose I should, that these barges are power-operated. The engine is an internal combustion job—looks like a converted car engine to me. The petrol tank is half full."

  Biggles had spoken so quickly that Ginger had had no opportunity to speak. The irony of the situation stabbed him so sharply that he groaned aloud.

  "What's the matter ? " asked Biggles.

  "I was wondering what you are going to do

  with the petrol now you've got it," answered Ginger sadly.

  "Transfer it to the machine, of course."

  "What machine ? "

  Biggles frowned. "Are you trying to be funny, or

  are you just plain crazy ? I mean the aircraft." "You'll have to find it first," announced Ginger.

  "The last I saw of it, it was sailing down the

  river."

  Biggles jumped up with alacrity. "Why didn't you

  make fast ? " he rasped.

  "Because there was nothing to tie up with. If you

  remember, you ,sliced the rope close to the bows."

  Biggles nodded. "Quite right. So I did."

  "I was coming to look for you and the rising water carried the machine away."

  Biggles wiped his mud-smeared hands and face with

  what had once been a handkerchief. "We're doing fine," he averred. "First we have a plane but not enough petrol. Now we have petrol but no plane. What with one thing and another we seem to be on a spot. As far as I can see we've only one hope. Algy may be able to get the engines going, in which case he'll turn back to pick us up. What's it doing outside ? "

  "The rain isn't quite so heavy, I thin
k," replied Ginger. "The river is rising fast."

  "If it is, then it's only a question of time before this barge floats. If it floats we shall follow Algy down the river. Come to think of it, that wouldn't be a bad idea. We should at least be getting farther away from the mill and the Japanese troops. Come and give me a hand."

  Without knowing quite what he was going to do, Ginger followed Biggles to the deck and watched him drag back a tarpaulin, exposing the cargo. The result was not unexpected. It consisted of bales of raw rubber.

  "Let's start and chuck this stuff overboard," said Biggles. "The less weight there is on board the sooner the barge will float."

  They set to work heaving the bales overboard, and by the end of ten minutes the barge had acquired a noticeable buoyancy. They continued with the work, and presently had the satisfaction of feeling the vessel move. Biggles picked up a long sweep that formed part of the barge's equipment, and digging one end into the mud, threw his weight on it.

  The stern began to swing round.

  "We're afloat ! " he cried, and in another minute the islet was sliding past. Ginger noticed two more barges, one high and dry and the other capsized.

  "What are we going to do—drift, or start the engine and try to get some sort of control ?

  " he asked.

  "We'd better drift," declared Biggles. "I can't see that there's anything to be gained by using the engine. We couldn't make headway against the stream even if we wanted to ; we're bound to go down ; with visibility zero we shall probably travel fast enough without the engine. Let's see how we go."

  Biggles took up a position in the stern, with the sweep trailing in the water to act in the manner of a rudder. Ginger stood beside him, peering into the rain-soaked air, hoping to see something. It was still raining, but the downpour was not as heavy as it had been, and visibility had increased to perhaps fifty yards ; but even so, there was no sign of either bank. In this condition the barge drifted down the stream at a pretty fast rate.

  Ginger knew that they were travelling at a good speed, but not until he caught a glimpse of a bank at a bend, where they swung near the shore, did he realize fully just how fast they were going. Neither, for that matter, did Biggles, who uttered an exclamation of surprise.

  "We ought to overtake the Cayman," observed Ginger.

  "Not unless it runs ashore," disputed Biggles. "If it's drifting, it must be travelling at the same rate as ourselves and everything else that's adrift on the river."

  Nothing more was said for a little while. Then Ginger remarked : "The rain seems to be exhausting itself. It's nothing like as bad as it was."

  This was' obviously true. The rain was no longer a cascade ; it had settled down to a steady drizzle, and visibility improved accordingly. It became possible to see the banks dimly, as through a grey veil. For some minutes Biggles concentrated on keeping the barge in the middle Of the stream with his sweep. This involved strenuous work, and perspiration made white channels in the grime on his face.

  " Strewth 1 This is too much like hard labour," he remarked. "I'm going to try to start the engine. Now we can see where we're going it may give us some measure of control. Take over the sweep, and try to hold her in the middle of the stream until I get back."

  Ginger took the sweep and Biggles disappeared into the cabin. A few moments later the engine came to life and the barge quivered to its vibrations. Biggles reappeared.

  "That's better," he said, taking the tiller. "You can stow that sweep."

  Under the power of its engine the barge swept down the river at what was a truly alarming speed for so ponderous a vessel. The banks slid by in dull procession. In several places they had been washed away, leaving the forest standing in a turgid flood.

  Ginger noticed several more barges that had gone ashore. One was upside down.

  "We certainly made a mess of that convoy," he observed.

  Biggles did not answer, and glancing round to see why, Ginger noticed that he was staring straight ahead with a fixed expression on his face.

  " Look ! " said Biggles tersely. "The Cayman. What's that beside it ? "

  Looking down the river, Ginger saw an aircraft that he recognized at once as the amphibian. There was another vessel, a small marine craft, beside it. In it a man was standing up, waving his arms as though giving instructions. Both vessels seemed to be travelling slowly.

  • " That's a motor launch," said Biggles crisply. "If it is, it can only be a Jap. It must have been coming up to take charge of the barges—or to see what caused the break-away—

  and met the Cayman coming down."

  "Why, it's got the Cayman in tow ! " cried Ginger as he saw a line suddenly spring taut between the two craft.

  "By thunder ! You're right," answered Biggles. "The launch is trying to tow the aircraft to the bank. That chap in the bows is shouting orders to Algy. None of them have seen us yet. I think we'll take a hand in this:"

  The barge was now about two hundred yards from the launch, which was heading diagonally up-stream, apparently with the object of getting out of the main flow of the river. Behind it, yawing under the strain of the tow-rope, was the Cayman. The barge, many times larger than the launch, bore down on the scene as a heavy lorry on a road might approach a bicycle. Ginger, glancing at Biggles's face, saw that he was smiling.

  "Watch the splinters fly," said Biggles, leaning on the tiller.

  By this time it was clear that the crew of the launch had seen the barge. Several men were standing up, signalling frantically, presumably in the hope that the barge would alter its course. There was, as Biggles remarked calmly, no reason why they should suppose that the barge was manned by two members of the British Royal Air Force. With their uniforms and faces caked with mud, Biggles and Ginger might have belonged to any service in any army.

  At the last moment, to obtain more speed, the man in the stern of the launch cast off the line that held the Cayman in tow ; but by that time it was too late. The barge swept towards the vessel, a small river cruiser, with the relentless force of an avalanche crashing down on an Alpine hut. It struck the launch amidships. It checked for a moment in its mad career and then went on, leaving behind it some splinters of wood and one or two men struggling in the water. The launch, with one of its sides stove in, had sunk like a stone.

  Biggles paid no further attention to it. He could not have stopped even had he wanted to, and he did not want to. He was afraid he might hit the Cayman. He did, in fact, pass close to it, and was able to shout to Algy, "Stand by ! We're coming back."

  Biggles was now only too anxious to check the speed of the barge in order to make contact with the aircraft,

  but there seemed to be no way of doing this, although the Cayman was, of course, still drifting down the river out of control.

  "Hold tight I" shouted Biggles to Ginger. "I'm going to try to bring her round. If I can get her nose up-stream it may steady our pace."

  So saying, Biggles threw his whole weight on the tiller. The barge, which in spite of its engine was still in the grip of the current, began to swing round in a wide circle ; but the river was not wide enough for such a manceuvre, and it was soon clear that the vessel would never complete the half-circle necessary to achieve his object. In fact, it did not get broadside to the stream, but rushed straight towards the river bank—or rather where, during the dry season, the bank would have been. The forest was now inundated, and the only difference between the flood beyond the bank and the river was that the river rushed on whereas the flooded forest was quiet. It might have been a lake.

  "We can't make it 1 " yelled Biggles, and dragged on the tiller to take up his original course. But the barge was too near the bank, and before it could get round into the main stream it had crashed into the trees.

  Ginger dived into the cabin to prevent himself from being swept off by the overhanging branches. Biggles followed him. For a few seconds the barge crashed broadside-on through the trees, snapping them off like twigs. Then it came silently to rest, af
loat in the jungle.

  "That was very clever of me," snarled Biggles, as he scrambled back to the deck. Ginger also emerged, and Was just in time to see the Cayman go gliding past on the main stream.

  Algy yelled something, but neither Biggles nor Ginger heard what he said.

  Biggles wiped sweat and mud from his face. "I'm not used to handling barges," he remarked disgustedly, and sat down. Another moment and he was on his feet again as an aero engine roared.

  Ginger fairly danced with excitement. " It's Algy ! " he shouted, somewhat vaguely. "He'

  s got his engines started. He's coming back."

  This was true. The Cayman soon appeared, coming up-stream on a diagonal course towards the gap in the trees made by the barge.

  "He's only got to collide with a teak log coming down the river to wind up a really good day's work," remarked Biggles wearily.

  But this did not happen. The Cayman roared into the gap. As soon as it was out of the grip of the current the engines stopped. The aircraft surged on to bump its nose gently against the side of the barge. Algy stood up. He was grinning.

  "If the squadron could have seen you trying to do a vertical bank in that barge—"

  "Oh, shut up," growled Biggles. "Come aboard and let's have some lunch. Have you still got your passengers ? "