"Yes, they're here," answered Algy.
"Bring them along," ordered Biggles. "The Chinese always did think we were a race of lunatics. After to-day's exhibition the brothers Wong must be convinced of it."
Fee Wong's head appeared. He, too, was smiling. " Velly good," said he.
CHAPTER XIV
MORE SHOCKS
LATER in the day the weather improved considerably, although Ah Wong was insistent that the rain
would soon start again. They had some food, a wash, and a rest, after which they all felt better, particularly as a closer examination of the barge's petrol tank promised enough fuel to enable the Cayman to get to its base—always assuming that the engines would continue to work on ordinary commercial petrol instead of the aviation spirit to which they were accustomed.
As it happened they were never put to the test, for just as the work of transferring the fuel was to begin, the roar of a low-flying aircraft sent the airmen ducking for cover. A few seconds later a Japanese seaplane, which Biggles identified as a Kawinishi reconnaissance biplane, came tearing up the river at a height of not more than a hundred feet.
Ginger, peering up from the tarpaulin beneath which he had taken cover, could see the observer in the back seat quite clearly. He was looking over first one side and then the other.
"He's looking for barges, I'll warrant," declared Biggles. "Keep out of sight."
For a little while it looked as if the barge and its adjacent aircraft would escape observation, for they were off the main river and had some protection from the trees ; but when the seaplane zoomed, turned and came back on a course that would bring it immediately over the two craft, Biggles knew that they had been spotted.
"Don't move, anyone," he ordered tersely. "We still have a chance if they think we are just hulks. By the time they can send a launch to look us over we shall be on our way—I hope."
On this occasion Biggles was at fault, as Algy was quick to point out. "Never mind about calling up a launch ; the blighters are going to land and have a look at us," he observed.
•"Somehow I didn't think they'd risk a landing if they were doing a general reconnaissance of the river," returned Biggles.
"It would suit us fine if they would land," put in Ginger quickly. "The petrol in their tank would be better for us than the low-octane stuff in the barge."
•"You're right," flashed Biggles. "I didn't think of that. I've got such an infernal headache that I'm a bit slow off the mark."
"I fancy I could bring them down," suggested Ginger.
" How ? "
"Shall I try it ? "
"Go ahead—but don't get us shot up."
Ginger dived into the cabin. In a minute he was out again, wearing a Japanese tunic and cap selected from the garments that had been abandoned. He ran along the catwalk waving to the now circling aircraft. The machine banked steeply and then, after going down the river for a short distance, came back with its engine idling, obviously intending to land.
"Here they come," said Biggles. "Let them come right in. Don't move."
The Kawinishi made a successful landing, and without stopping, taxied on into the creek made by the runaway
barge. With its engine ticking over, it forged on slowly until one of its floats touched the barge. The lower wing projected well over it.
The pilot pushed back his cockpit cover and sat up. The observer did more. He stood up and called something to Ginger—in his own language, of course. For obvious reasons Ginger did not answer. All he could think to do was make signs with his hands and point to the cabin, which he then entered, for he was afraid the Japanese might notice that his face was white. If the enemy airmen thought this strange behaviour they gave no sign of it. The observer climbed out on his wing, walked along it, and dropped lightly on the barge within two yards of where Biggles was crouching under the tarpaulin.
Biggles rose up and knocked him into the water—not a difficult matter since the Jap was unprepared for such a swift assault. "Take care of him ! " shouted Biggles, and jumping on the plane, ran to the cockpit. The pilot was so taken aback that he scarcely moved. At the last moment he dropped in his seat and tried to close the cover. Biggles clapped a revolver to his head. The Jap stared at him, saucer-eyed ; then he raised his hands. Algy was dragging the observer back on the barge. The whole thing was over in less than a minute.
Biggles made signs to the pilot to get on the barge. The man did not protest. No doubt he realized that with three white men and two Chinese to deal with, resistance was futile.
Biggles escorted them both to the cabin and closed the hatch on them. Ginger smiled.
The capture had been ridiculously easy, and more in the nature of comedy than tragedy.
"That's fine," declared Biggles. "Let's fill up and get ready to go home."
"You mean—right away ? " queried Ginger.
Biggles thought for a moment, holding his head in his hands. Ginger noticed that his cheeks were flushed and his eyes unnaturally bright, but he said nothing.
"I don't think we'd better risk flying out of Malaya in daylight," decided Biggles. "There are bound to be enemy machines about, and it would be silly to risk bumping into them.
It would be better to wait for dark, and aim to arrive at Lucky Strike about dawn."
What about the prisoners ? "
"I'm not going to clutter the Cayman up with them, if that's what you mean," answered Biggles. "We'll set fire to the barge because there's still a lot of rubber in it. The prisoners can sit in the Kawinishi. No doubt a patrol boat will pick them up later on."
The business of transferring the petrol from the Japanese aircraft to the Cayman was a long and tedious one. There was no pipe long enough to syphon the spirit from one tank to another, so it had to be carried in cans. As a result of this it was nearly dark by the time the task had been completed.
After that there was nothing to do but wait, although a watchful eye was kept on the sky for a recurrence of the rain. Should it show signs of starting, Biggles had decided to take off immediately, for to take off from the river in a monsoon downpour would be practically impossible.
The rain held off, and they finished their iron rations.
"It's getting on for midnight," said Biggles at last. "I think we'll get along." He had a few words with Fee Wong to confirm that the brothers wished to leave Malaya, for after what had happened they had already hinted at this. There was, they decided, no reason for staying.
With Ah Wong acting as interpreter, the two prisoners were made to get into their machine and paddle it some distance away. The barge was then fired. In some haste Biggles and the others boarded the Cayman ; the engines were started, and in the lurid glare of the burning barge the aircraft tore down the stream in a wild take-off. Having the advantage of being lightly loaded, it soon left the water, but it narrowly missed the tree-tops as it zoomed in a manner not in the least like Biggles's usual practice. Ginger, who was in the next seat, glanced at him, and saw at once that something was wrong. Biggles was sagging forward, as though he was falling asleep. Ginger grabbed him by the arm.
" Hi ! What's the matter ? " he asked sharply. Biggles lolled back. "Can't see," he muttered in a weak voice.
Ginger grabbed the control column and yelled for Algy. Algy appeared.
" Biggles is ill. Get him into the cabin ! shouted Ginger in a panic, for in spite of his efforts to keep the machine on even keel, it was rocking dangerously.
Somehow Algy managed to get Biggles out of the pilot's seat and Ginger slipped into his place. For a few minutes, while he was alone, he was content to keep the machine on its course. Then Algy came back.
"Looks to me as if he's got a sharp attack of fever," he announced. "I've seen it coming on for the past twenty-four hours."
"I noticed it too," answered Ginger.
"It may not last long, but he's in no state to' fly," went on Algy. "We've made him as comfortable as possible on the floor. The sooner he's on the ground between blanket
s the better."
"You'd better take over."
Algy took the control seat and Ginger sat beside him, although from time to time he went back into the cabin to see how Biggles was faring. He was conscious, but was obviously running a high temperature.
"Why didn't you say you were sick ? " accused Ginger. "You nearly crashed the lot of us."
Biggles smiled weakly. "I didn't realize how sick I was until we were in the air ; then it came on sort of sudden."
"Well, don't worry. Everything's all right. We're all set for home and ought to be there about sun-up. Try to get some sleep." With that Ginger went back to Algy.
"He isn't too bad," he said. "I think the bout will soon pass—you know how it is with malaria."
"What I'm worried about is what we are going to do with him when we get to Lucky Strike," muttered Algy. "He ought to go down to Australia for a course of treatment, but of course he won't—at any rate, not until our work is finished."
"Let's get to Lucky Strike for a start," suggested Ginger practically. "Where are we now
? "
"We've just left the coast. If the weather keeps fair we shouldn't have any trouble."
Ginger looked at the sky, and was relieved to see that although it was partly covered, there were gaps through which the stars gleamed brightly. There was no sign of enemy aircraft and the Cayman roared on through the night. Sometimes he dozed, for he was desperately tired, and sometimes he took over from Algy to give him a chance to rest. In this way the hours passed, with the aircraft ploughing its invisible furrow across the tropic sky.
After a long silence Ginger spoke. "Six o'clock," he observed. "It should start getting light any minute now. The old Cayman has hung together pretty well considering the rough handling she's had."
Algy nodded. "That's Borneo ahead," he remarked, and a few minutes later, as the first faint streaks of dawn stained the eastern horizon, the aircraft roared high over the rugged coast on the last lap of its journey. Slowly the world opened tired eyes for another day.
Ginger, half asleep, stared ahead at nothing in particular. He was looking forward to a long unbroken sleep. Suddenly he started, blinked, stared, closed his eyes and stared again.
"I say ! What's going on ? " he cried.
Algy, who was flying mechanically, peered forward.
Ginger saw the smoke first. The high ground on which Lucky Strike was situated was smoking like a volcano in eruption. As a matter of detail, he had seen the smoke for some time, but in an abstract sort of way had taken it for cloud blowing up over the horizon.
There was no longer room for doubt. It was smoke.
"The forest is on fire," he jerked out.
"Don't you believe it," returned Algy crisply. "The forest is soaking wet. I can't imagine it burning." Then he gasped. "Look up ! It's bombs."
Lifting his eyes, Ginger saw for the first time a number of minute specks circling over the landing-ground. He counted twelve.
"What do you make of that lot ? " asked Algy tersely.
"Don't know—they're too far off," replied Ginger.
"They're Japs, of course. They must have found the aerodrome, and they're plastering it."
" Ah-huh. I suppose we can thank that fighter that came down to look at us, and then pushed off home."
" Shall I tell Biggles ? "
"No," decided Algy. "It's no use worrying him. We shall have to work this out ourselves.
One thing is certain. It's no use trying to get in while the raid is on. Nor dare we risk being seen."
Before he had finished speaking, Algy had turned the aircraft and was racing nose down for a bank of cloud that was rolling up from the south. Not until he had taken cover behind it did he speak again.
"Good thing we had a margin of petrol," he said grimly.
"How much have you got left ? "
"About half an hour. The Japs should have gone by then."
"They seemed to be doing as they jolly well liked. Why weren't the Beaus up after them, I wonder ? "
Algy shrugged his shoulders. "We may find out presently. This looks to me like a pretty sticky mess."
Biggles's face appeared at the door of the bulkhead that divided the cockpit from the cabin. "What game do you two think you're playing at ? " he demanded. "I may be sick, but I'm not so ill that I can't tell when a machine is off its course."
"The Japs are bombing Lucky Strike," answered Algy calmly. "I'm hanging about until they pack up.'' "How many machines could you see ? "
"I counted a dozen."
Biggles groaned. "Trust things to come unstuck the moment I turn my back."
"You'd better go and lie down," suggested Algy. "You can't do anything."
For twenty minutes by the watch Algy cruised up and down near the cloud, ready to bolt into it should hostile machines appear. Then he edged cautiously along the rim of the cloud towards the aerodrome. A quick reconnaissance of the sky revealed that the enemy aircraft had gone. As soon as he realized it, Algy put his nose down for the landingground, from which a sluggish column of smoke was still rising.
As the aircraft drew near Ginger gave a sudden cry. "Look at the ground ! " he muttered.
Explanation was unnecessary. The landing-ground was pitted with craters, any one of which would be sufficient to wreck an aircraft that tried to land on it.
"Looks like we're sunk," went on Ginger. "What are you going to do ? We've no juice to go anywhere else even if we wanted to. It's either the aerodrome or the forest."
"Better tell Biggles the position."
Ginger went through to the cabin and told Biggles how matters stood.
"Anyone on the aerodrome ? " asked Biggles.
"Not a soul. They must have taken cover when the dirt started dropping. In any case, we haven't enough petrol to hang about while they fill in the craters."
"Then there's nothing to argue about," declared Biggles. "It means a crash landing. Tell Algy to get on with it. I'd take her in myself, but it's no use pretending ; I'm in no state to judge distance, and should probably hit the trees. Go ahead. Algy knows what to do."
Ginger went back to the cockpit. " Biggles says put her down as best you can," he told Algy briefly.
Algy did not answer. With his eyes on the bomb-torn landing-ground, he started gliding down, his left hand on the switch ready to cut the ignition the moment before the 'impact, to reduce the risk of fire. A number of figures could now be seen standing on the edge of the aerodrome. There were also three burnt-out crashes ; one, of course, was that of the ill-fated Japanese flying-boat that had tried to land, but whether the other two were British or Japanese there was no means of knowing.
Algy glided in slowly over the tree-tops. There were, of course, open spaces between the craters, but no area large enough to offer a full length runway. The big machine continued to lose height. Algy switched off and lowered his wheels, hoping they would absorb some of the shock of impact before they were wiped off, as it seemed certain they would be. Ginger braced himself. The wheels touched, with a clear run of perhaps forty yards to the first crater. The machine settled down, still travelling at high speed. Algy pressed his left foot on the rudder-bar. The machine vibrated horribly as it swerved, but it missed the crater and rushed on to the next. Algy repeated the performance, but the next crater was too close, and the swerve of necessity more acute. The undercarriage crumpled under the strain. The keel struck the ground with a crash ; shuddering, the machine skidded towards the next crater ; it mounted the pile of detritus that surrounded the yawning hole, and then, with another crash, it stopped. Both Algy and Ginger were flung forward, but not with sufficient force to cause injury.
The moment the machine came to rest they scrambled through into the cabin. The door was already opened, and Biggles was urging the two Chinese to get out. With the dread of fire ever present in his mind, no one moves faster than an airman leaving a crash. In a few seconds the whole party was outside, and had placed a safe distance between it and the wreck.
"Good work, Algy," said Biggles. "You haven't made as big a mess as I expected."
People came running from the occupied end of the aerodrome.
"What you might call a spectacular homecoming," said Biggles weakly.
"But we are at least home," observed Ginger philosophically.
CHAPTER XV
DISASTER AT LUCKY STRIKE
BIGGLES, shivering in spite of a pile of blankets, lay in bed and listened to the tale of woe that the home-base party had to tell. The others stood around. This, briefly, was the story.
The first indication of trouble came within an hour of the Cayman leaving for Malaya, when Suba's medicine-men had picked up a drum message that was being tapped across the island. This announced that Japanese transports were arriving at Brunei, on the coast of British North Borneo. This was followed by another message saying that many aeroplanes were landing on the aerodrome. Shortly before dawn yet another message said that Japanese troops were advancing through the bamboo belt towards the heart of the island. They were under the command of a general named Yashnowada. Upon receipt of this disturbing information those at Lucky
Strike, realizing that the landing-ground must be the objective for which the troops were making, started to put the place in a state of defence. It was decided that, as soon as it was light, one of the Beaufighters should take off to try to locate the Japs, and if possible hamper their advance. Before the machine could take off, however, there had come the first of three air raids, which proved conclusively that the position of the aerodrome was known to the enemy.
The first raid had occurred when, without warning, no fewer than eighteen Japanese bombers appeared over the aerodrome. At the time one of the Beaufighters was having some adjustments made, so it was not airworthy. The other two had taken off, and, flown by Bertie and Tug, had shot down three of the raiders. Two had fallen in the forest, the other one on the aerodrome. Rex had taken Suba and the natives away from the aerodrome as soon as the enemy machines appeared, so there had been no casualties ; but damage had been done to the village, also to some of the store-huts. Unfortunately, the grounded Beaufighter had received a direct hit, and was blown to pieces. After the raiders had withdrawn the two Beaufighters had managed to land, in spite of bomb craters. One had suffered minor damage in combat and was being repaired when a second raid, this time by twelve machines, had occurred. Bertie had gone up in the one serviceable fighter, but after shooting down two of the raiders, one of which had crashed on the landing-ground, his machine had been set on fire. He had baled out and had made a safe landing at no great distance from the bases The Beau-fighter was a total wreck.
28 Biggles In Borneo Page 13