by W E Johns
‘Absolutely.’
‘Good! Then let’s get at ’em.’
With pistol in one hand and cutlass in the other, Biggles ran quickly to the top of the rock. Dick, the razor open and gripped firmly, followed. From the ridge they looked down into the lagoon, and although they could see the aircraft, now close to the gap that led to the open sea, and the canoe lying on the sand, there was no sign of the men they sought.
‘They’re behind the rocks, over there,’ said Dick tensely, pointing with the razor. ‘That’s where they’ve made their camp.’
Their feet making no noise on the soft sand, they crept forward and peeped round the outcrop of rock that hid the enemy camp from view. Not more than six paces away sat Deutch, cross-legged, eating something out of a tin. Ginger and Algy were still lying on the ground. Harvey was not there.
Biggles levelled his pistol. ‘Hands up, Mr Deutch – and keep them up,’ he ordered harshly. ‘Any argument from you and I’ll blow you in halves. And if you have any doubt about that, just try it,’ he added vindictively. ‘Go ahead, Dick.’
The expression on Deutch’s face was almost comical in its astonishment, but he dropped the tin and raised his hands. Biggles walked over to him and clapped the muzzle of the pistol to his head. ‘Keep quite still, please,’ he murmured as his eyes darted this way and that, seeking the other man he expected to find. Satisfied that he was not there, he looked towards the spot where Dick was helping the others. Ginger was trying to get on his feet. Algy, his face twisted with pain, was massaging his ankles.
Biggles’s lips set in a hard line as he realized what had happened, that the tightness of the cords had temporarily crippled them. ‘Dick!’ he called. ‘Come here.’
Dick ran to him as an obedient dog answers its master.
‘Take hold of the handle of this pistol,’ ordered Biggles. ‘If you feel the muzzle move, don’t speak – just pull the trigger.’ He relinquished the weapon and went swiftly through Deutch’s pockets. Among other things he found a revolver, which he transferred to his left hand, and the maps that had been taken from them at Marabina. He did not particularly want them, but he kept them. This done, he went quickly to Algy and Ginger. One glance, and he saw that it would be some minutes before they would be in a fit state to travel, for their wrists and ankles were badly swollen. ‘All right,’ he said quietly, ‘take your time. Keep rubbing them. Let me know when you think you can hobble as far as the canoe.’
‘You’re going to take the machine, then, are you?’ asked Algy quickly, as he understood what Biggles meant.
‘You bet your life I am,’ returned Biggles promptly. ‘I — what the—’
He spun round as a musical whirr reached his ears. He knew instantly what it was. Someone was operating the self-starter in the amphibian, but before he could do anything – indeed, almost before he was able to move – the engines had sprung to life and the machine was taxiing through the breach in the coral reef out on to the open sea. He dashed forward, although he knew it was useless from the start. Before he had taken a dozen steps the amphibian was racing over the water, leaving a creamy trail to mark its passage. With bitter chagrin on his face he returned to the others. ‘It must be Harvey,’ he said angrily. ‘I expected to find him here, and I looked for him, but for some reason or other I did not think of the machine. Well, there he goes; he’s one less to contend with, anyway.’
Deutch’s face registered vicious satisfaction as the amphibian soared skyward.
Biggles’s eyes narrowed. ‘I think perhaps a little of your own medicine wouldn’t do you any harm,’ he murmured vindictively. ‘Ginger, just knot those pieces of cord together and truss him up.’
Ginger smiled as he moved forward to obey. ‘OK,’ he said cheerfully.
‘Dick,’ went on Biggles, ‘go and take a look over the rock to see if ‘Frisco is on his way back yet. Give the pistol to Algy; he can take care of Deutch for a minute or two.’
Dick handed over his charge and ran lightly to the top of the rock. One glance, and he was on his way back, gesticulating urgently. ‘Buck up! He’s coming!’ he cried.
Biggles started. ‘How far away is he?’
‘Not more than a hundred yards, but he’s coming very slowly because he’s helping Pedro along.’
Biggles thought swiftly. ‘Stand by, everybody,’ he ordered crisply. ‘We shall have to be going.’
Algy raised his eyebrows. ‘Are you going to run away from that cheap American crook?’ he snorted angrily.
‘I am,’ replied Biggles curdy. ‘I don’t believe in taking unnecessary risks. He may be a cheap crook, but he’s also a sharp-shooter. If it comes to a shooting match, sooner or later someone will get in the way of a bullet, and it is more likely to be one of us than him. I’d sooner leave him running loose than one of us should get plugged in a place like this where there’s no chance of getting medical attention. Let’s get out of his way; there will be plenty of time for sniping before we’re off this island, if I know anything about it. Come on, jump to it.’
Algy looked at the mass of rock that cut off their retreat on one side, and the thick jungle behind them. ‘Which way are you going?’ he questioned.
‘That way!’ Biggles pointed to the sea. ‘Dick – Ginger, get down to the canoe and put her on the water. Algy, give me a hand with some of this stuff. We may as well take as much of our own property with us as we can.’ He hurried to the pile of stores which their enemies had taken out of the amphibian and began making a heap of those things which he thought would be of most benefit, chiefly tinned foodstuffs.
Algy helped him to carry the stores down to the boat, which without further delay was pushed off into deep water. Heavily loaded, the rather flimsy craft had only an inch or two of freeboard, but as the sea was flat calm there was little danger of her swamping.
‘You guys think you’re pretty smart, but I haven’t finished with you yet, not by a long shot,’ shouted Deutch furiously. ‘You wait!’
‘We’ll be waiting,’ promised Biggles as he picked up the paddle and sent the little craft skimming towards the open sea.
‘Hey, ‘Frisco!’ roared Deutch. ‘Help! Quick!’
There was an answering shout from the other side of the rock.
‘Keep steady if ‘Frisco opens fire, or we may capsize,’ ordered Biggles tersely as he put his weight behind the paddle.
The boat was about a hundred and fifty yards from the shore when ‘Frisco Jack dashed round the corner.
‘He’s seen us,’ said Algy quietly. ‘He’s got his gun in his hand, and he’s running out on to the rocks to get as near to us as he can.’
‘I don’t think he’ll hit us at this distance,’ replied Biggles calmly, as he continued to drive the boat through the water. ‘Outside a hundred yards revolver shooting becomes pure chance.’
A moment later ‘Frisco’s automatic crashed, but the bullet that ricochetted off the water was several feet away.
Biggles continued to paddle. ‘Take a shot at him, Algy; it will upset his shooting,’ ordered Biggles, knowing from experience that it is much more difficult for a marksman to take careful aim when he himself is under fire than when he knows he is secure.
The pistol roared, and they heard the shrill scream of the bullet as it glanced off a rock.
‘Frisco continued to fire, but the range was getting longer every second, and presently he gave it up, and returned to the beach where Deutch was yelling to be released.
Biggles turned the nose of the canoe to the left and took up a new course, keeping parallel with the shore.
‘Where are you making for?’ asked Algy.
‘Can you see an islet just off the end of the island, about half a mile or so ahead?’
‘Yes.’
‘I think that’s the best place for us. We can watch the shore from there, so there will be no risk of a surprise attack while we do two things that are getting overdue. The first is eat, and the other is talk. It’s time we had a council of w
ar and reviewed the position, as they say in books.’
The thing that intrigues me most is, where the deuce you got that amazing clobber you’re wearing,’ said Ginger curiously.
‘I’ll tell you about that presently,’ answered Biggles, pausing to wipe the perspiration from his forehead, for the sun was now getting very hot. ‘Couldn’t you fellows find any place to land without barging into Deutch and his crowd?’ he inquired caustically.
‘You can bet we didn’t join him from choice,’ replied Algy sarcastically.
Biggles resumed his task and nothing more was said until they reached their objective. He did not land immediately, as Deutch and ‘Frisco Jack were standing out on the rocks watching them; instead he passed straight on until the islet was between them and the lagoon, thus concealing their movements. Then, still keeping out of sight, he backed the canoe slowly to the foot of the steps that gave access to the fort. ‘Up you go,’ he said, looking for something to which to make the painter fast. ‘Take the grub with you.’
‘Why, what are you going to do?’ asked Algy.
‘I’m just going to slip across to the island for a few coconuts,’ returned Biggles. ‘I don’t know about you, but I could do with a drink. I’ll join you in a minute.’ As he spoke, he pushed the now lightened canoe clear, and sent it skimming towards the island.
Chapter 12
A Lucky Fall
When he came back, and, after making the canoe secure, climbed up to the fort, he found the others still marvelling at it. They were agog with enthusiasm and excitement, pardonable in the circumstances, for it was impossible for anyone with imagination to be in such a place without feeling something of its romantic, if tragic, associations.
‘How on earth did you come to discover it?’ asked Ginger.
‘To tell the truth, I didn’t exactly discover it,’ admitted Biggles. ‘It was shoved under my nose, so to speak. In other words, this is where I managed to get ashore. Naturally, I climbed to the top to see if I could see anything of you on the island, and this is what I found.’
‘But where did you get those clothes?’ asked Algy, for the others had not yet been below.
‘Downstairs.’
‘Are there any more?’
‘Quite a lot – of sorts.’
There was a rush for the stairway while Biggles remained on the roof in order to watch the distant lagoon. From where he stood it was just possible to see it, which he realized at once was a great advantage, since it enabled them to keep an eye on their enemies without going ashore. At that moment Deutch and ‘Frisco Jack were bending over a dark object on the ground; he thought it was Pedro, and he was still watching them when a cry from below sent him hurrying down.
‘Did you know this was here?’ asked Algy, pointing to another flight of stairs, leading downwards, which had been exposed by the removal of a stone slab in the centre of which was an iron ring.
‘No, I’m dashed if I did,’ admitted Biggles. ‘I looked for it, too. I suppose I didn’t see it because it was buried under those rags.’ He pointed to the old clothes that had been turned over and now lay scattered about the floor.
‘You looked for it? You mean, you suspected it was there?’
‘I thought it was bound to be somewhere.’
‘What do you think it is?’
‘A water tank, to store the rain water that falls on the roof. How could anyone live here without water? No doubt there is water somewhere on the island, but that wouldn’t be much good to a beleaguered garrison. If you go upstairs you can see the hole which drains the roof; the water must run straight through a duct into here. Is there any water in it now, I wonder?’
Biggles picked up one of the bullets from the heap on the floor and tossed it through the yawning hole. A soft splash told him what he wanted to know. ‘Draw some up and let’s have a look at it,’ he said. ‘There’s the bucket.’ He pointed to a black, cylindrical object that lay among the old clothes. Like the powder-flask, it had once been leather, but now, having perished, it was as hard as wood.
Algy picked it up, went down the steps till he reached the water, dipped the utensil in, and returned with it squirting water through several cracks.
Biggles took some up in the palm of his hand and tested it with his lips. ‘Seems to be all right,’ he said, ‘but I’d rather not use it unless I was compelled. I prefer fresh coconut milk. Put the lid back on or someone might tumble in. And let’s have a bite to eat; I’m hungry.’ Turning away from the reservoir, he smiled broadly as, for the first time, he took in the details of the garments the others had selected. In turning over the old clothes they had all found something to suit themselves.
Algy wore a moth-eaten red shirt with a pair of what had once been white breeches that fitted tightly at the knees. On his head was a chimney-pot hat of the sort commonly worn by sailors during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Ginger had selected a blue and white banded shirt like his own; there was a small hole, with a dark, sinister stain round it, in the breast. Dirty calico trousers covered his lower half. For headgear he had chosen a black, three-cornered hat. Dick, for whom everything had been too large, wore a faded blue silk shirt, which he had tied in round the waist with an old belt, so that the lower part formed a sort of kilt, or skirt. Through the belt he had thrust a large pistol. On his head, pulled down well over his ears, was a crimson night-cap with a tassel on the end.
Biggles looked at him in mock terror. ‘By thunder! Israel Hands himself!’ he gasped. ‘All we need is a Jolly Roger to fly at the peak and we should look as bonny a bunch of pirates as ever boarded a prize or sacked a town.’
The others laughed.
‘Israel Hands was one of the pirates in Stevenson’s story Treasure Island, wasn’t he?’ asked Ginger. ‘I read it once, but that was a long time ago.’
‘Stevenson only borrowed the name for his book,’ Biggles informed him. ‘The original Israel Hands was quartermaster to that shocking ruffian Captain Edward Teach, more often known as Blackbeard, perhaps the most bloodthirsty villain of the whole cut-throat crowd, excepting possibly Louis Dakeyne, sometimes called Louis the Grand, who bestowed upon himself the pleasing nickname The Exterminator. Louis, by the way, claimed to be the originator of “walking the plank” as a handy means of disposing of his victims.’
‘What happened to him at the finish?’ asked Dick. ‘Did he sun-dry at Execution Dock, like most of the others?’
‘As a matter of fact, nobody knows what did become of him,’ answered Biggles. ‘Speaking from memory, I believe he was the fellow who disappeared just after he had captured a whacking great galleon – much to the relief of every honest sailor engaged in the West Indian trade. I expect he was drowned. Most of the pirates died with their boots on. It’s funny to think that some of them may have stood on this very spot, isn’t it?’
‘Talking of treasure and treasure islands, this must be our treasure island, surely, or Deutch wouldn’t be here?’ suggested Algy.
‘I don’t think there’s much doubt about that,’ answered Biggles. ‘It struck me as soon as Dick told me that Deutch was here, with our machine, that we had at last reached the place we set out for. What’s more, according to the map made by Dick’s father, we must be within a quarter of a mile of the old ship he talks about in his letter.’ Biggles took the map, which he had recovered from Deutch, from his pocket. ‘I made some alterations on it, as I told you,’ he continued, ‘but in its original form, the cross that marked the position of the ship was up here, at the most northerly point of the island, which is the point immediately opposite to us. This islet we are on is the one marked. We’ll go over to the island and have a look round as soon as we’ve had something to eat, providing Deutch and Co. keep out of the way. It won’t do to let them see where we are searching or they’ll spot what’s afoot and want to join in the fun.’
‘Come on, then, let’s eat,’ cried Dick excitedly.
‘We’d better bring the food down here,’ suggested Biggl
es. ‘It will be blazing hot on top, in the sun, and Deutch won’t be able to see us if we keep below. It will be to our advantage if he doesn’t know where we are.’
There was a rush up the stairs, and the stores which they had brought in the canoe, as well as the coconuts Biggles had fetched from the island, were carried below. There was nothing to sit on except the floor, but that did not worry them.
‘I don’t like the idea of these gentlemen watching us as we eat,’ protested Algy with a sidelong glance at the two skeletons.
They won’t hurt us. Dead men don’t bite,’ retorted Biggles lightly.
While the meal was in progress Algy and Ginger described their adventures, which had ended in their falling into the enemy’s hands, after which, for their benefit, Dick told his, describing how he had been rescued by Biggles from Pedro. In this way the time passed quickly, and it was well after midday by the time their hunger was satisfied and the stories told.
Biggles made a little pile of the coconut shells, which they had used as cups after eating their contents. Taking it generally, the position has become rather peculiar,’ he observed thoughtfully. ‘We are here, and Deutch is here, and neither side can get away – at least, not until Harvey comes back with the machine. Where has he gone? Why hasn’t he returned? When he first took off I thought, naturally, that he had seen what was happening ashore and was simply concerned with saving the aircraft. Yet if that was the case, one would have expected him to hang around waiting for a chance to get back to the others. Instead, he went straight off as if he was going on an errand; and don’t overlook the fact that the course he took up would take him to Marabina – or somewhere near it. I can’t help thinking that that is where he has gone. Yet what reason could he have for going back there?’