by W E Johns
‘That’ll suit me,’ Biggles assured him. ‘Now let’s try to untangle things. I’ll start. I got a message from Raymond asking me to get information about Stavanger and bring it here. I was told if necessary to drop the information in a bottle. Instead, I dropped myself – I’ll tell you why presently. The bottle is still in my pocket. I’ve got the information and we’ve got to get it to Raymond. That’s all I have to say except that the last time I saw Algy he was a prisoner at Narvik. I helped him to get away – at least, I hoped he’d got away.’
Ginger nodded. ‘That’s right, he did.’
‘Before we go any farther, d’you reckon this is a safe spot?’ inquired Biggles.
‘I should say not; but nowhere in Norway is safe and this is as good as anywhere. We can’t be seen – except, of course, by a vessel coming up the fiord, and only then in daylight.’
‘Good. Now tell me about Algy.’
‘Well, what happened was this,’ explained Ginger. ‘To start with, Colonel Raymond brought us back home from France; he told us what you’d been doing and how you were fixed. I may say we were both pretty fed up about it, but that didn’t cut any ice. Naturally, we felt that we ought to be helping, but it wasn’t easy to see what we could do, or how we could get into touch with you. Raymond soon fixed things up though. He said a British force was on its way to Norway, but he wasn’t allowed to tell us where the landings would be made. The force would be supported by the Navy, and machines of the Fleet Air Arm, which would operate chiefly from aircraft carriers. Raymond was able to arrange for us to fly out to a carrier; he told us to keep an eye on Narvik, as if possible he would get a message through to you asking you to fly up to Narvik Fiord. If you could then make a smoke signal we might be able to pick you up. I must say it seemed a pretty wild hope, but it was all Raymond could do.’
‘I didn’t get any message asking me to go to Narvik,’ put in Biggles.
‘We suspected that – in fact, we knew it, because the agent sent a signal back to Raymond to say that you’d left Boda. At least, he couldn’t find you there. Obviously, if the fellow couldn’t get in touch with you he couldn’t give you the message.’
‘True enough,’ agreed Biggles.
‘Well, we joined the carrier off the coast of Norway’ continued Ginger. ‘We were flown out, but being supernumaries we couldn’t get machines of our own; consequently we could only get trips in other fellows’ machines. I did a trip, but saw nothing. Mind you, we were still hoping that the agent would find you and send you up. Algy then went off straight away as a gunner in a Shark. It got its engine shot up and was forced to land on the fiord. That’s how he came to be taken prisoner. Naturally, I didn’t know anything about it at the time. All I knew was that the Shark failed to return, and I reckoned poor old Algy was a goner. Dash my wig if he didn’t turn up with a tale that I found pretty hard to swallow.’
‘You mean – he got back to the carrier?’
‘Yes, he was picked up by a destroyer. He told me a fantastic tale about being taken prisoner, and with some other fellows being shoved into the schoolhouse at Narvik. Then who should blow along, as large as life, but you, acting as though you’d bought the whole outfit. You inspected the prisoners and went off again. Shortly afterwards our destroyers barged into the fiord and had a crack at the enemy. Upon this you came back and set the prisoners free. Algy said he kept with the crowd, expecting you to follow, but he didn’t see you again. He didn’t know what your game was, so when our destroyers steamed out, and the party had a chance of being picked up, he went aboard with the rest. There were three fellows off the carrier among the prisoners, so the destroyer dumped them back on board. That’s how Algy got back, and how I learnt all about this.’
‘What happened next?’
‘Well, we didn’t know what to do for the best, and we were still scratching our heads when Raymond got another message through to us. He said his man was still trying to make contact with you at Boda, because he felt certain that you’d return there sooner or later. If the agent did make contact with you he was to ask you to go to Stavanger and collect information, and then come on here, to Fiord 21. Raymond suggested that we should get an aircraft and come down here to wait for you. If you turned up we were to fly you home.’
‘That sounds as if Raymond has given me permission to leave the country.’
‘That’s pretty obvious.’
‘But how did Algy—’
‘Just a minute – I’m coming to that. There was a snag, and it was this. There was no great difficulty in our flying down here, but we didn’t know, and had no means of finding out, if you’d got the message asking you to come here. If you hadn’t got the message, then we might have sat here for the duration waiting for you. The result was that Algy, who knew you must be in a pretty tight spot and anxious to get away, got one of his bright ideas. It was that he should go to Boda to find you, and so make certain of getting you here.’
‘But how the dickens did he propose getting to Boda?’
‘His idea was to get one of the fellows on the carrier to fly him over, at night. He would step out with his parachute.’
Biggles stared aghast. ‘But he must have been crazy!’
Ginger shrugged his shoulders. ‘He always was, wasn’t he?’
‘And d’you mean to tell me that’s what he did?’
‘That, chief, is what he did.’
‘But surely not in his own uniform?’
‘More or less. He’d picked up a German greatcoat from somewhere, and he simply wore that over his uniform. The last I saw of him he was getting into the machine, bound for Boda. I was to come here and wait, and here I am.’
‘And you don’t know what’s happened to Algy?’
‘Absolutely nothing. I haven’t heard a word since he took off. Of course, I hoped you’d arrive together.’
Biggles squatted on the rock with his chin in the palms of his hands. ‘Well, this is a pretty kettle of fish, I must say,’ he muttered. ‘Here I am, at last able to get out, only to find that Algy has got himself stuck inside.’
‘When he finds you’re not at Boda he may be able to grab a machine and fly here.’
Biggles snorted. ‘Suffering crocodiles! Is he daft enough to think that the Boche leave their machines lying about for anybody to pick up?’
‘You seem to have managed it.’
‘That’s different. I’m an officer in the German Air Force. If that isn’t enough I’m also a member of the Gestapo, with a special pass, signed by the chief, in my pocket. It wasn’t hard for me to move about, although it was a bit risky because von Stalhein is in Norway looking for me. By a bit of bad luck it was learned that I was in Norway.’
Biggles gave a brief account of his adventures. ‘So you see,’ he concluded, ‘it was a lot easier for me to get a machine than it will be for Algy. If he’s in Boda, then I reckon he’s stuck there.’
Ginger stared moodily at the sombre surface of the fiord. ‘In that case the question is, what are we going to do about it?’
Biggles thought for a moment. ‘The most important thing of all is to get this information about Stavanger back to Colonel Raymond,’ he decided. ‘We can’t allow personal matters to interfere with our Service jobs. You’d better take this information back. Raymond will be expecting it.’
‘What about you?’
‘I shall have to stay here to see if Algy turns up. If he does, we’ll both be here when you return, so you’ll be able to pick us both up. You can leave the food here with me. What’s the time?’ Biggles looked at his watch. ‘It’s nearly midnight – let’s see – it’s nearly four hundred and fifty miles across the ditch – call it three hours. If you spend an hour with Raymond – no, I’m afraid you couldn’t get back here before daylight.’
‘What’s the matter with coming back after daylight?’
Biggles shook his head. ‘Too risky. There are too many eyes along the coast right now. It would be much safer to slip in after dark. You coul
d cut your engine well out to sea and glide in.’
‘But that would mean you’d be here all day tomorrow.’
‘That can’t be prevented.’
‘What about Algy? – I’m worried about him.’
‘Let’s leave it like this,’ suggested Biggles. ‘You get the information home – I’ve got it written out. You can also tell the Colonel what I’ve told you. I’ll wait here for Algy; otherwise, if he came back and found no one here, he’d wonder what had happened. When you come back bring a spare parachute. If Algy hasn’t turned up then you’ll have to fly me over to Boda. I’ll drop off and look for him. You could then fly back here and wait.’
‘Okay,’ agreed Ginger, ‘but I’m bound to say it sounds a sticky business to me,’ he added glumly.
‘All war is sticky business,’ Biggles reminded him. ‘Get off now and concentrate on getting home. That should give you plenty to think about without worrying about me.’
Ginger cast off the mooring rope that held his machine close against the rocks and climbed into the cockpit. Biggles, putting his hands on a float, pushed the machine clear. For a few moments a brooding hush reigned, a hush broken only by the gentle lap of the dark water. Then the engine shattered the silence. The aircraft surged down the fiord and disappeared into the gloom.
Biggles put the food behind a rock and settled down to wait. From far away came the deep rumble of guns, but in the little fiord all was quiet. Nothing moved.
CHAPTER 9
BACK AT BODA
ALGY DID NOT come.
All through the long night hours Biggles waited, listening, hoping, for he had no wish to return to Boda. Several times he sat up, alert, as he heard the purr of aircraft. But they were only patrols – British or German, he knew not which – exploring the starlit heavens. Each time the sound died away he sank back again to wait. There was nothing he could do.
Dawn came, and with it still more aircraft, always flying very high. Only one, a German reconnaissance plane, came low over the silent fiord. Biggles took cover, and presently, apparently satisfied that the fiord was deserted, the German passed on. Occasionally Biggles ate a little of the food from the bag, but he ate mechanically and without relish, for he was too concerned with the state of affairs. The day wore on. The sun went down. Purple twilight, ever darkening, hung for a little while over the silent waters, and then gave way to night. Stars appeared, twinkling. Biggles munched a biscuit thoughtfully.
It was about half-past nine that he heard the sound for which he had been waiting, the musical hum of a gliding plane, and presently he saw its dark silhouette dropping slowly towards the water. There was a surging splash as it struck the surface and forged on towards the promontory formed by the landslide. Slowly it came to rest, and Ginger’s head appeared. He gave a low whistle.
Biggles answered and, reaching out, caught a float to steady the machine.
‘Everything all right?’ inquired Ginger.
‘Yes, nothing’s happened here.’
‘Did Algy come?’
‘No.’
‘Then it looks as if he’s in a jam.’
‘I’m afraid so. How did you get on? Any trouble?’
‘Nothing to speak of. I ran into a Hun over the North Sea, but I managed to lose him. I saw Raymond and told him how things stood here. He was in favour of your flying straight back home.’
‘But what about Algy?’
‘He said he’d try to arrange for one of his agents in the country to pick him up and get him across the frontier into Sweden.’
Biggles shook his head. ‘That won’t do. Raymond ought to know we don’t work like that. While Algy’s inside the country I’m not going to leave it.’
‘As a matter of fact, I think Raymond knew you’d take that attitude, and merely made his suggestion to let you know that if you wanted to come home he wouldn’t object. What are you going to do?’
‘It’s no use my sitting here any longer. I doubt if Algy will come now. I shall have to go to Boda and fetch him. You’ve got a brolly1?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then you can take me over to Boda right away.’
Ginger, who by this time had come ashore, looked glum. ‘I don’t like it,’ he muttered. ‘It would be safer for you to go and sit on the edge of a volcano than go to Boda. What are you going to say when they ask you why you pinched that Messerschmitt?’
‘They don’t know definitely that it was me.’
‘They’ll assume it was, I bet. They are certain to ask you about it.’
‘I shall have the answers ready.’
‘What about von Stalhein? I know you last saw him at Stavanger, but he may have gone back to Boda.’
Biggles shrugged his shoulders. ‘That’s a risk I shall have to take. I’ll keep my eyes open.’
‘You haven’t forgotten that von Stalhein knows Algy? If he spotted him and has had him arrested, he’ll be waiting for you to arrive. He knows by now that if he finds one of us it’s only a question of time before the others turn up. I—’
‘It’s no use raising objections,’ broke in Biggles impatiently. ‘Whether he’s got Algy or not, I’m going over to look for him. I’ve still got my Gestapo pass. After I drop off you come back here and wait; but if anyone spots you you’d better see about saving yourself.’
Ginger nodded.
‘Then let’s get away.’
Biggles donned the parachute, adjusted the harness, and took his place in the spare seat.
‘You know better than I do where the aerodrome is, so keep me on my course if I look like going astray,’ said Ginger as he got into the cockpit. ‘I expect we shall get a good plastering from flak2.’
‘Head out to sea first and get plenty of height,’ advised Biggles. ‘Switch off your engine when I tell you, and glide.’
‘Will the aerodrome be blacked out?’
‘I expect so, but I know too well where it is to have any difficulty in finding it. Go ahead.’
In a few minutes they were in the air, standing out to sea, climbing steadily for height. Not until they were at fifteen thousand feet did Ginger turn and head back towards the questing searchlight beams that marked the positions of enemy forces. These positions were avoided as far as possible, but more than once a beam leapt up and passed close enough to the machine to reflect on it a ghostly radiance. On such occasions Ginger throttled back and employed such ruses as Biggles had taught him.
‘You’re getting a little too far north,’ Biggles said once, and that was the only remark he made until they were nearing their objective, when he gave more detailed instructions. They were now at twenty thousand feet.
‘Hold her as she is and you’ll pass right over the aerodrome,’ he said finally. ‘As soon as you feel me go off get back to the fiord. After that you’ll have to use your discretion. Well, here we go.’
‘S’long, chief,’ called Ginger huskily.
‘S’long, laddie.’ The machine rocked as Biggles dived overboard.
Ginger instinctively looked down, but he could see nothing except the inevitable searchlight beams that were still seeking him. It was with a heavy heart that he turned back towards the coast.
Biggles was still falling through the war-stricken sky. He had deliberately delayed pulling the ripcord for several seconds, but when he did so, and the fabric ballooned out above him, he gazed down at the darkened earth beneath. He could see the aerodrome now, and was satisfied that his jump had been well timed; he would touch down not more than a few hundred yards to the east of it.
He fell when he landed, but he was on his feet in a moment. He could still hear the drone of Ginger’s machine fading away to the west, otherwise all was silent. Working quickly, he folded the parachute into a ball and looked round for a place to hide it. There appeared to be only one, and that was a ditch. There was water in the bottom of it, and into this he thrust the parachute and trod on it. This done, he made his way towards the aerodrome, aware that he was taking the most appalling ri
sk he had ever willingly undertaken, a risk compared with which his original task was as nothing. If von Stalhein had returned to Boda, then he was virtually committing suicide.
Nobody challenged him as he walked towards his quarters, for this, he decided, might be the safest place for him until he had made certain inquiries that he had in mind, inquiries concerning Algy and von Stalhein. Near the officers’ mess he met a German whom he knew slightly, and he was about to accost him when Kristen appeared. Kristen stopped dead when he saw Biggles.
Where have you come from?’ he demanded in an amazed voice.
‘What do you mean – where have I come from?’ returned Biggles.
‘Where were you all day yesterday?’
‘I’ve been doing a job for the Gestapo – I thought I told you that?’
‘Yes, you did, but – well, I thought – people have been looking for you.’
‘People? For me? Why?’ Biggles feigned bland surprise.
‘But wasn’t it you who took the machine from here, the Messerchmitt, and made off with it?’
‘Machine? What on earth are you talking about?’
‘Somebody took a Messerschmitt from here without permission, and as you couldn’t be found it was thought that you had taken it. A fellow named von Stalhein was here looking for you. The word came that the missing machine had landed at Stavanger, so he went on there.’
‘Then I’d better have a word with him – that is, if he is back here,’ said Biggles calmly. ‘D’you happen to know if he came back?’
‘He may have done, but I haven’t seen him.’
‘Then I’ll ring up my chief in Oslo and find out.’
Biggles moved on towards the orderly room, but stopped suddenly. ‘By the way, what is this rumour I hear about an English spy being captured here?’
Kristen shook his head. ‘I haven’t heard anything about it. What did you hear?’
‘Only that a strange Englishman had been found prowling about the aerodrome.’
‘Well, I’ve heard nothing of it.’