The drums had stopped booming.
Sandy walked up to an old woman and spoke to her in
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her own language, but she only sniggered. He turned to Biggles. 'They're all hiding in the bush,' he said. 'I'll bet the whole of them are within earshot, but they won't show up for fear we report them.' Cupping his hands round his mouth he yelled for Roaring Wave.
A few moments later the bushes parted and a slim figure stepped out. A white band encircled his forehead and his chest was painted with a hideous magical device. Algy clutched Biggles's arm. 'Great heavens! ' he cried incredulously. 'It's Shell-Breaker! '
`Shell-Breaker, come here,' ordered Sandy sternly. The boy approached, nervously.
`What for you make war?' asked Sandy curtly.
`Make war on Atanelli,' muttered Shell-Breaker sullenly.
Àsk him where the others are,' Biggles told Sandy.
Sandy spoke to the boy in his own tongue, whereupon Shell-Breaker broke into a torrent of explanation, waving his hands to add expression to his story. At last he broke off from sheer exhaustion.
Sandy drew a deep breath and turned to the others. His face was a picture of wonderment and dismay. 'Ginger's a prisoner on Castanelli's schooner,' he said.
`W hat?' cried Biggles and Algy together.
`Shell-Breaker's story rings true enough,' went on Sandy. 'And there doesn't seem to be any reason why he should lie to us. He says this is what happened. After they had finished fishing they went for a swim in a cove and discovered a grotto; the entrance was under cover; however, they swam in and sat on a ledge. While they were there a shark appeared in the entrance and trapped them. They had to stay there all night. In the morning the shark had gone so they swam out, only to find that we were no longer there.
Then the hurricane hit the island and pretty well wrecked it. No sooner had the hurricane moved on than Castanelli sailed into the lagoon. They waited until dark and then tried to pinch the schooner's dinghy. Ginger was caught in the act and taken aboard. Shell-Breaker got to the reef, but came back later on and got the dinghy and rowed it single-handed to Rutuona. Full Moon stayed behind to watch what happened. Shell-Breaker only got here about an hour ago, and his story has sent everybody 123
war-mad. Roaring Wave has sworn to have Castanelli's blood. They've got their big war canoe all ready; apparently they were just going to start when we turned up.'
Biggles listened to this story in silence, his first expression of relief on hearing that Ginger was still alive changing slowly to one of amazement. Ìf Ginger is on Castanelli's schooner we've got to get him off,' he said slowly. 'I'm relieved to learn that nothing more serious has happened.'
Algy looked dubious. 'It might be harder to get Ginger back than it sounds,' he muttered. '
Castanelli's got a tough crew, and there are only three of us. The machine is out of action, anyway. In any case, with Ginger on board, we couldn't shoot the schooner up.'
Ì wouldn't say that the "Scud" is out of action,' returned Biggles quickly.
`But you can't fly it with a busted wing.'
Ì didn't say anything about flying it; there's no reason why we shouldn't taxi it across to the island, if we can get it clear.'
Ì don't want to raise difficulties, but Castanelli will hear our engines,' Algy pointed out. '
All those toughs of his are armed, and they're likely to sink the "Scud" before we could get it near enough to board them. We must look at the thing sanely. To suppose that we could taxi right up to the schooner without one or more of us being hit would be expecting too much. We've got to get Ginger off, of course, but getting the "Scud" sunk won't help us.'
Biggles nodded. 'I agree,' he murmured. 'It would need a dozen men to take that schooner by force, unless surprise tactics were employed. We've no proof that the schooner is still there, if it comes to that. There ought to be some way in which we can use these Marquesans.' Biggles thought for a moment. 'I don't like the idea of their going without us,' he continued. 'If there is a general attack Ginger is as likely to get hurt as anybody.'
`That's true,' remarked Sandy. 'Once they start on a job they're apt to go crazy. Why not taxi the machine across and take a bunch of them with us? We could get ten or a dozen in the cabin at a pinch.'
`Why not take the whole blessed war canoe in tow?' suggested Algy.
`By gosh! that's an idea!' cried Sandy.
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`We might as well do both,' Biggles pointed out. 'We could put some of them in the machine and tow the canoe as well. How many will the canoe hold, Sandy?'
Ì don't know; I haven't seen it; but judging from others I've seen it will probably carry thirty or forty. But we shall have to watch what we're doing. If we once set these boys on to Castanelli there will be no holding them, and if they kill him we shall be answerable for it.'
`That doesn't worry me,' declared Biggles. 'We've a witness to prove that Ginger is on board, a prisoner, so we should be justified in trying to get him off. What worries me most is the time limit. How long is Castanelli going to stay in the lagoon, even supposing he is still there? It's going to take us some time to get the machine clear, don't forget. It's after midday already. Whatever we do it is going to be dark before we get to the island.'
Àye, that's true enough,' admitted Sandy. 'I agree with you, I think it would be dangerous to let these Marquesans go without us. I reckon our best plan would be to explain the position to Roaring Wave; if he falls in with us he could lend us some men to get the "Scud" out of the creek. After that it wouldn't take us long to get to the island. We could tow the canoe most of the way. Then, when we got near the island, we could let the canoe tow the machine. In that way we should make no noise, and we might- be able to get right up to the schooner without being seen.'
Biggles nodded. 'That's it,' he said. 'If we towed the Marquesans nearly to the island they would still be fresh when we got there. If we find that the schooner has gone, the only thing we can do is to repair the wing as quickly as possible and fly round as long as we have any petrol left.'
`That sounds like common sense to me,' agreed Sandy. Ì'll go and have a word with Roaring Wave, or tell Shell-Breaker to go and fetch him.' He turned to Shell-Breaker, who still stood by him, and spoke to him at some length.
Shell-Breaker dashed off into the trees, where his voice could be heard raised in a long harangue. His speech was concluded in a pandemonium of yells, and a few moments later about threescore painted warriors, some carrying clubs and some spears, burst out of the bushes.
`They're a pretty tough-looking crowd to try to keep in 125
order,' observed Biggles, regarding the striped warriors with misgivings.
`You leave 'em to me,' said Sandy confidently, going to meet them. Somehow he managed to pick out Roaring Wave, and held a brief conversation with him. At the finish the Chief gave a shout and disappeared again into the bushes, followed by his pack. 'It's all right,' said Sandy, returning to the others. 'In fact, I believe the old man is tickled to death that we are going into the business with him. One thing is certain; they hate the sight of Castanelli, and once they get started there will be no stopping them.'
`Where have they gone now?' asked Algy.
`To get the canoe,' replied Sandy. 'Here they come.'
Both Biggles and Algy stared in astonishment as from underneath the trees appeared the grotesque painted prow of an enormous canoe. It was a beautiful piece of work, carved from end to end Tin a regular pattern, gleaming with oil. It was not less than forty feet long and needed nearly forty men to carry it. In dead silence the warriors carried it down to the water and launched it on the bay.
`Come on,' said Sandy.
`Where to?' asked Biggles.
`Back to the "Scud", of course. There is no sense in will walking. The canoe wi have us there in half the time.' `That suits me,' agreed Biggles.
In a few minutes the three white men were seated in the stern of the canoe, staring at the broad painted backs
of thirty natives, in a double row, fifteen on each side, each holding a beautifully carved paddle. Their weapons lay at their feet. Roaring Wave stood in the bows, looking ahead. He raised his spear and pointed. Instantly thirty paddles dug deeply into the water, and the canoe streaked forward like an arrow. Roaring Wave's spear fell, and the flashing paddles dipped again. And so it continued, the paddles keeping perfect time with the strokes of the spear.
`By Jove! This is something like travelling,' murmured Algy admiringly.
`You bet it is,' answered Sandy. 'Think what this bay must have looked like years ago, with perhaps fifty canoes like this one all sweeping out to sea in formation to make a raid on a neighbouring island. It must have been a sight worth watching.'
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In less than an hour they were at the creek, where Sandy, pointing to the 'Scud', explained to the Chief what was required. After that there was nothing more to do than sit in the canoe and watch the natives hacking at the brushwood and other debris with their heavy, keen-edged knives. At first they worked from the canoe, but as thèScud'
was neared many of them got into the water and tore the stuff away with their hands. As soon as a fairway had been made Biggles climbed on board, and the others followed him.
He went forward into the cockpit and made ready to start the engines, knowing that this would not alarm the natives, who had already seen the machine on the water near the village.
It was a long, tedious business getting the machine entirely clear, and darkness was closing in by the time the work was nearly complete. At length a line was thrown to the canoe; the natives took their places and towed the aircraft into the clear water in the middle of the creek. The canoe cast off, and was eased alongside, whereupon Sandy climbed up on to the centre section and explained the plan in detail, to make sure that it was understood. The engines were then started. Ten of the natives were transferred to the
'Scud' to reduce the drag of the canoe, which was then taken in tow. Slowly, with her engines roaring, the aircraft taxied towards the open sea. The ancient war-chant of the Marquesans rose into the still air.
Biggles glanced at Sandy and smiled; but he would not have done so if he had known that at that very moment Ginger was just being dragged down to the bottom of the lagoon.
WHEN Ginger had been dragged down to the bed of the lagoon he knew that nothing short of a miracle could save him, and although he still struggled to free himself he felt that it was hopeless. From the moment he had realized Castanelli's intention he had given himself up for lost, and he can hardly be blamed for that. But there is an old saying to the effect that while there is life there is hope, and never was the truth of it better demonstrated.
His senses were fast leaving him when his outflung arms collided with something soft. It might be thought that with death imminent his fear could not be greater than it already was, but at the touch of that unseen body his fear became blind terror, which in the circumstances is hardly to be wondered at, for he knew only too well what horrors dwelt in the warm waters of that sapphire sea. Again came the touch; he struggled violently, but, nevertheless, something long and soft wrapped itself about his legs, gripping them firmly. That it was an octopus he had no doubt whatever. It was the culminating horror, and as far as he was concerned, it was the end. There is a limit to what human consciousness can stand without collapsing.
His next sensation would be difficult to describe. It was, perhaps, more curiosity than anything else. He was quite sure that he was now dead; he did not see how it could be otherwise; but death appeared to be taking a form so strange that he was amazed. In the first place, he was still conscious of his body, for his stomach hurt him excruciatingly.
And he was still able to think, although his thoughts were vague and disjointed. Where was he? What was happening? He wondered. It was all very confused. But presently he found himself able to think more clearly, and he discovered that his eyes were open. Or he thought they were—he was by no means sure. As far as he could make 129
out he was lying head downwards on a shelving slope of coral. That seemed natural enough. It was only to be expected. But what was his face doing out of the water? He was sure it was out of the water, but not more than an inch or two. Phosphorescent wavelets were lapping against the coral just below his eyes. He could hear them as well as see them. Water was also running down the coral and dripping into the wavelets. He noticed with surprise that it was coming out of his mouth and nostrils, but on thinking it over he realized that there was nothing strange about that, after all, for he must have swallowed vast quantities of water.
He could see the wavelets more clearly now, and discovered that the scene around him was becoming more solid, and at the same time the pain in his stomach became more intense. He realized that it was due to a heavy weight on his back, a weight that rose and fell regularly. He was lying face downwards, and every time the weight fell the i
pain in his stomach became almost unbearable. At last it became so bad that he groaned.
He knew that he had groaned because he distinctly heard the sound, and it added to his amazement. Instantly the weight on his back occurred again with increased violence, and at the same time something seized his arms and dragged them upwards. It had the result of sending more water gushing from his mouth. His arm were lowered and then raised again, as if some one was using them as pump-handles; and all the time the dreadful weight was on his back, forcing his stomach against the hard coral. He groaned again with the agony of it.
At last he could stand it no longer. Not even in death could he endure such agony. With a sudden wrench he tore his arms free from the grip that held them by the wrists, and with a tremendous effort flung the weight off his back. Clutching at the coral he dragged himself back from the water and at the same time twisted into a more horizontal position.
He looked up. At first he could see nothing except a star-spangled sky, and the black silhouette of rocks against it. Then, close at hand, a dark form moved like a shadow. 'You plenty better bymeby,' said a small voice.
Again it would be difficult to describe Ginger's sensa-
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tions at the sound of that well-remembered voice. For a moment he could do nothing but vomit water in a fearful fit of retching, but when the spasm passed he felt more normal, and he looked again at the dark figure. 'Full Moon! ' was all he could say, in a voice heavy with wonderment.
Full Moon knelt down beside him. 'You feelum better bymeby,' she whispered. 'One time I reckon you plenty dead—'
`But where have you 'come from?' asked Ginger, sitting up, and feeling his stomach tenderly. He saw that a jagged piece of coral pressing into it had caused the pain.
`Me on schooner all long time,' answered Full Moon.
Ginger sat silent for a moment, trying to force his aching brain to assimilate this piece of information. 'On the schooner?' he got out at last. 'You mean you were on the schooner when they threw me over?'
`Yes, I stay on schooner all day, hide under sail.'
Ginger shook his head. The business was becoming more and more unbelievable. 'Where is Shell-Breaker?' he asked suddenly.
`He take dinghy and go Rutuona plenty quick,' returned Full Moon.
`But how did you get on the schooner?'
Full Moon explained. 'When you get hit on head. by Atanelli, Shell-Breaker swim fast under water. He tell me. We go back. Shell-Breaker take dinghy. I stay to see what Atanelli do. Me hide in sail, see everything. See Solomon boys throw you overboard. Me swim down, but you kick like debil-debil. I cut rope, but reckon you die plenty quick, so I pull you on reef.'
Ginger was still inclined to believe that the whole thing had been a ghastly nightmare, but he saw that the rope was still round his waist, with a short end hanging to it, and he knew that it must have happened. For a little while he was so overcome by the simple devotion of the two Marquesans that he could not trust himself to speak. 'Full Moon, one day I thank you for this,' he said at last, huskily. 'I think you'r
e wonderful.'
Full Moon laughed. 'What for wonderful?' she asked,
naïvely. 'Me no run away when plenty trouble. Me glad
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when you go overboard; no longer wonder how save you from schooner.'
`Well, I reckon you're a brick,' declared Ginger. `What is brick?' inquired Full Moon curiously.
Ginger could not find an adequate answer. 'Never mind,'
he said, and stood up, shakily.
`We stay here,' said Full Moon. 'Shell-Breaker he come back bymeby with long canoe.'
Ginger looked round. 'Did you say we were on the reef?' `Yes, on reef.'
Atanelli gone?'
`Yes, he make sail'
Òne day I'm going to give myself the pleasure of shooting that scoundrel,' declared Ginger.
`Yes, me kill, too,' answered Full Moon, cheerfully.
Ginger had to kneel down again as he was shaken by another spasm of retching. He still felt deadly sick as a result of all the salt water he had swallowed, but after a time he got up and announced that he was able to get to the island. The moon had just come up, and he looked along the reef, which hitherto he had not examined very closely. He had a horror of entering the water again, but examining the reef he saw that it was possible to get to the island without swimming. He suggested this to Full Moon, who agreed that it was the best way.
Àny feke on these rocks?' asked Ginger, cautiously.
Full Moon saw nothing unusual in the question. 'Maybe,' she said, eyeing the reef with professional eyes. Then she shook her head. `No feke,' she decided. 'Plenty crab. No crab if feke here.'
`Well, that's something to be thankful for, at any rate,' muttered Ginger, to whom an octopus was one degree worse than a shark.
`We walk now,' suggested Full Moon. 'You drink plenty coconut water you feel better bymeby.'
`Yes, I could do with a drink,' agreed Ginger, whose mouth was parched from swallowing salt water.
Full Moon cut the remains of the rope from his waist. Then, hand in hand, they walked slowly up the moonlit coral to the top of the reef, where they pulled up dead, staring unbelievably. Instead of finding only the sea stretching to the horizon they saw a schooner standing straight to-132
21 Biggles In the South Seas Page 14