by W E Johns
The work of unloading was put in hand.
Later, in the bungalow, Algy made a more detailed report. He had been in touch with Air Commodore Raymond through service radio, with the result that the remainder of the squadron would assemble with five Liberators and two Lightnings, at Madras, and there await orders to proceed to Elephant Island. In fact, Biggles’ instructions had been carried out to the letter. There had been no difficulty, no hitch.
‘I told the boys that it was unlikely they would be wanted here inside a week,’ stated Algy.
‘I’m not so sure about that,’ answered Biggles, and after relating what had happened during the Gosling’s absence, announced his intention of visiting Major Marling, taking Ginger and Li Chi with him. ‘You can either stay here with Bertie till we get back, or better still, make another trip across to Madras to fetch a load of stuff.’
Algy agreed.
Soon afterwards Ayert came in to say that he had found a kabang, owned by a family of Salones, of whom two men were willing to make the trip up the Pak Chan river. It would be better to wait for darkness though, before starting, in case the kabang was seen leaving the island by a Japanese patrol, which might result in the craft being intercepted and examined.
To this precaution Biggles readily agreed. It did not prevent them from making the necessary preparations.
These, which consisted chiefly of victualling the craft for the voyage, were soon made by the useful Ayert who, at Li Chi’s special request, was included in the party.
‘As there will be plenty of room, and Ayert is an invaluable fellow to have on an adventure of this sort, I strongly advise that we take him,’ said Li Chi. And so it was agreed.
‘What about weapons?’ asked Biggles. ‘I’ll take your advice on that, too.’
Li Chi reflected. ‘I always travel light. We have our pistols. To be on the safe side perhaps we ought to take rifles. They would occupy little room.’
After that there was nothing to do but wait for darkness. When the hour for departure came, Ayert led the way through the forest to the seashore, where, in a little cove, the Salones were waiting. It was the first time Ginger had seen the boat they were to use, and the sight of it made him wonder if he would have not done better to offer his place to Algy or Bertie. The kabang was in charge of two men and a small boy. One – as it was presently revealed – navigated the boat, using a long oar to steer, while the other manipulated a make-shift sail. Having hauled it to the masthead he sat in the stern with the mainsheet wound round his big toe. The boy, it turned out, was merely a human pump. His job was to bale out the water that trickled constantly through warped and rotten timbers. The Salones, Ayert had told Ginger, lived almost entirely on fish, their store of this commodity being kept in the bottom of the boat; and as fish in the tropics quickly becomes ‘ripe’, the smell of the bilge, when it was stirred up by the boy, nearly made Ginger sick. A roof of split bamboo and dilapidated canvas walls provided protection against the sun in daytime. Accommodation was simple. The passengers merely sat on a bamboo floor just far enough above the keel to keep them out of the slush. The kabang was, in fact, as Ginger now discovered, a houseboat, of design and manufacture as primitive as could be imagined. Considered as a conveyance it was at the opposite end of the scale from a modern flying-boat. However, the passengers were in no case to be particular, so they took their places and waved goodbye to those ashore. At a word of command from Ayert one of the Salones pushed off with his oar, and the crazy craft crept out across the darkened strait.
CHAPTER 6
UP THE RIVER
DAWN FOUND THE kabang far up the Pak Chan river, the sullen waterway that forms the boundary between Lower Burma and Siam,1 although as both countries were occupied by the enemy there was nothing to choose between them; both were hostile. Ginger, who had dozed, awoke to find that the boat was being poled by the two Salones through comparatively shallow water, near a bank fringed by tall reeds, beyond which towered the sombre tropic forest. The boy was still baling with a movement that had become automatic. A thin mist coiling and curling like steam over the surface of the winding river did nothing to enliven a scene that at best could only be described as dismal. The humid air was redolent with strange smells; predominating was the reek of river mud and rotting vegetables. Outside the boat the only movement was a V-shaped ripple that moved swiftly across the water a short distance ahead.
‘Boya,’ grunted the boy, observing that Ginger had noticed the ripple.
‘Crocodile,’ translated Li Chi in a low voice. ‘The river is full of the beasts.’
Squatting on the bamboo floor, wearing a short kimono of yellow silk, into the wide sleeves of which his hands were thrust, he was now the complete Oriental, and Ginger found it hard to believe that this was the same man who, in London, had been so correctly dressed in western style.
A chuckle took Ginger’s eyes to Ayert, who was reclining in the stern. At first Ginger could not make out what he was doing. Then to his utter and complete amazement he saw that he was looking at a magazine. It was the title of the magazine that made Ginger’s eyes go round with wonder. It was a film paper.
‘For the love of Pete,’ he murmured, turning an astonished face to Li Chi. ‘Where did he get that?’
‘He bought it.’
‘Bought it – where?’
‘When we were in India. He has a stack of them.’ Li Chi smiled. ‘Didn’t you know that Ayert was a film fan?’
‘A film fan!’ Ginger was incredulous. ‘Do you mean he goes to films?’
‘On every possible occasion. In fact, before the war it was no uncommon thing for him to go hundreds of miles out of his way to visit a picture palace at Calcutta, Singapore, Penang, Renong, Rangoon – or any place within reach. He adores the films.’
Ginger blinked. ‘Ayert at the flicks – that’s a knockout. It’s a picture I can’t visualize. Can he actually read that paper he’s looking at?’
‘No, he can’t read English, but he loves to look at the pictures. He recognises the actors and actresses. Indeed, he knows all the stars by name.’
‘Who’s his favourite?’
‘Ask him.’
Ginger spoke to Ayert. ‘Who’s your favourite actor?’ he asked.
‘Donald Duck,’ returned Ayert without hesitation. ‘Very clever wise guy.’
Ginger looked at Biggles. ‘That beats cock fighting.’
‘In the thriller section he prefers westerns,’ volunteered Li Chi. ‘I make him leave his pistol with the cloakroom attendant, otherwise he’s liable to take part in the shooting.’
Ginger smiled. ‘I’d like to go with him some time. It should be fun.’
Biggles broke in. ‘You’re liable to get all the fun you want before this show is over. How much farther have we to go, Li Chi?’
‘As you could fly in an aeroplane the distance to the major’s bungalow is not more than eight miles; but as the river wanders we must travel twenty miles,’ was the reply. ‘We’re fortunate. Evidently there has been no rain at the headwaters of the river, so the current is slight. We have made good time.’
‘If it is only eight miles overland to the bungalow would it not be quicker to park the boat and walk?’ suggested Ginger.
Li Chi smiled. ‘No, it would not be quicker. The ground is a bog and the jungle is thick. Also, there are many leeches, and other creatures which it is well to avoid. In such country as this it is more comfortable to travel by the river.’
Biscuits were produced from the food bag. Ginger munched his ration moodily, watching the banks glide past with monotonous repetition. At each bend the same view was presented. Apart from an occasional bird, or the swirl of a crocodile sliding into the water, there was nothing of interest, nothing to attract the eye. An hour passed with hardly a word spoken. Then one of the Salones rested in a listening attitude. He said nothing. His expression did not change. The man who held the steering oar looked back down the river.
‘They hear something,’ s
aid Li Chi quietly.
Presently they all heard it – the distant chug-chug of an engine.
Li Chi spoke to one of the Salones in his own language. The man answered briefly. Li Chi switched his glance to Biggles. ‘A patrol boat is coming up the river,’ he announced. ‘The men, who are quick to recognize sounds, say it is the Lotus, a launch of about fifty tons with a shallow draft for river work. It was once owned by a trading company, but it is now, of course, in Japanese hands.’
‘What do you make of it?’ asked Biggles.
‘It may be merely on a routine patrol, although why the Japanese should patrol this river, where there is hardly a kampong, is hard to understand,’ answered Li Chi thoughtfully. ‘It may be that our passage has been reported by a spy, and they are following us to find out what a kabang is doing so far up the river. The alternative is that the launch is making for Shansie, the Major’s estate. There is nowhere else for it to go. I hope it is not.’
‘That would be awkward.’
‘Awkward for us, but probably worse for Major Marling.’
‘What had we better do about it?’
‘For the moment there is only one thing ‘we can do. The launch will quickly overtake us; we must not be seen, so obviously we must hide.’ Li Chi spoke quickly to the Salones who, clearly, understood the danger. One man took the pole and put his weight on it, while the other, leaning on the oar, turned the boat towards the reeds. He then ran forward, and parting the weeds with his hands enabled the boat to enter in such a way that it left practically no sign. It came to rest with a thick screen of reeds between it and the river.
‘Quiet, please, now,’ said Li Chi in a low voice. ‘Sound travels far over smooth water.’
Biggles dropped his cigarette into the ooze. Silence fell. The only sound was the throb of the screw of the approaching river craft. Minutes passed, with the launch drawing ever near, but it seemed a long time before it entered the stretch where the kabang had taken cover. Voices could then be heard. Ayert, regardless of the foul mud that came nearly to his waist, stepped overboard and made his way cautiously forward through the reeds until only a thin screen remained between him and the river, a position in which he remained while the launch passed. The others saw nothing. As the sounds began to recede Ayert came back, and with significant gestures whispered something to Li Chi, who allowed a little while to elapse before he translated. It turned out that the gist of Ayert’s report was this: the Salones had been right. It was the Lotus, manned by a Japanese crew. There were about eighteen or twenty soldiers on board, with an officer. The launch was proceeding at full speed as if on a definite errand. ‘It was not looking for us, though,’ asserted Li Chi.
‘How do you know that?’ asked Biggles.
‘Because had it been in pursuit of anyone, watchers would have been posted. The soldiers, Ayert says, were lounging on the deck, which suggests that the vessel is still some way from its objective. It must be going to Shansie – there is nowhere else. I’m afraid something has happened to send it there at such short notice. Had the trip been a routine affair it would have been arranged some days ago, in which case I should have heard of it through my spies. Only yesterday one of my men came to me from Victoria Point and there was no talk then of a visit to Shansie. I confess this unexpected development alarms me – not for myself, but for Major Marling.’
‘Has he anything to fear?’ inquired Biggles.
Li Chi shrugged. ‘We don’t know, but it is not unlikely. If the major is taken by surprise, and the place searched before certain things can be hidden, it will be bad for him – bad for everyone at Shansie. I don’t like this. I have an uneasy feeling that the major has been betrayed by a spy:’
‘Did that fellow Pamboo know of your association with Major Marling?’
‘I could not say for certain,’ answered Li Chi slowly. ‘It is possible. Some of my men know. They were bound to know. Pamboo may have heard them talking amongst themselves. One thing is certain. The major must be warned of the approach of the launch.’
‘How? We can’t overtake it.’
‘Ayert will have to go on, travel direct overland. It is the only way.’
‘Let us all go.’
‘No. Alone, Ayert, who knows the jungle, will travel fast. We should only be a hindrance. Wait, please, while I speak to him.’ Li Chi addressed the Malay in his native tongue. Ayert answered with a single word, whereupon the Salones, who had been listening, thrust the kabang out of the reeds and soon had it moving towards the opposite bank. As soon as the boat touched the side, Ayert sprang ashore, and without a backward glance plunged into the jungle.
Ginger could see no path, no track. ‘Will he be able to find his way through that maze?’ he asked.
‘A panther needs no signposts,’ returned Li Chi scornfully. A sharp word to the Salones and the kabang proceeded on its way up the river. ‘Ayert will know where to find us when he has accomplished his mission,’ stated Li Chi confidently, as he resumed his seat on the bamboo floor. ‘And there is no fear of our meeting the Lotus coming back, for we shall hear it long before it comes into sight,’ he added.
For about an hour no one spoke. Then Biggles remarked, ‘Are we going right up to the estate in this boat?’
‘Practically,’ replied Li Chi. ‘When we get so near that it would be incautious to stay on the open river we will go ashore and proceed on foot to a point where Ayert will come to us and report what is happening. If the alarm turns out to be a false one, and the Lotus returns down the river, we will go forward to the major as if nothing had happened.’
‘But surely the Japanese will recognize him for an Englishman?’ put in Ginger.
‘That will depend largely on how he is dressed,’ averred Li Chi. ‘He has lived so long among the locals that he might easily pass for one if he so wished. But sometimes he has things lying about – English books, for instance – which would betray him, if he is not warned in time to hide them. The last time I was there I saw such things – a violin which his son had been playing; I told him then that he should be more careful, but he seemed to think there was no risk of the Japanese coming so far up the river. You must understand that he rules like a king, and it is not easy to advise a king without giving offence. I told you that he can be a difficult man. And,’ added Li Chi as an afterthought, ‘his son can be a difficult fellow, too. He has courage, but also the pride of a prince – as perhaps you will see.’
Again silence fell. No sound came to indicate what was happening on the river or in the jungle. The Salones, conscious that the expedition had become urgent, laboured in heat that became more sultry as the sun climbed towards its zenith. Sweat glistened on their brown bodies. For nearly two hours the kabang forged on through the sluggish current, and then, rounding a bend, Li Chi spoke tersely. The Salones responded by turning from the main stream into a narrow backwater almost choked by water lilies. Up this they proceeded, not without difficulty, for some fifty yards, when the backwater broadened out and ended in a stagnant pool about the size of a tennis court. Evidently it had been used previously for the same purpose, for at the far end there was the mouldering remains of a landing stage. Behind it, a track, much overgrown, gaped like the mouth of a tunnel in liana-festooned casuarina trees. There was also a narrow mossy path round the pool.
‘Ayert will find us here,’ said Li Chi, rising. ‘This is where, years ago, Major Marling kept his boat. We are about a quarter of a mile from the bungalow, but less from the cultivated land which surrounds it.’
‘The Lotus must have been here for some time,’ remarked Biggles.
‘Not so long as you might think, because, before approaching the bungalow, the river makes a big sweep,’ answered Li Chi. ‘As I expected, the Japanese did not know of this short cut.’
‘What had we better do?’ queried Biggles. ‘Shall we have a scout round or wait here for Ayert to come?’
‘I think we had better wait,’ decided Li Chi.
The words had hardly left h
is lips when from some distance ahead came a sharp fusillade of rifle shots. There were shouts, a few more sporadic shots, and again, silence.
Biggles looked at Li Chi. ‘I don’t like the sound of that,’ he said in a tense voice.
‘Nor I. I’m afraid there is trouble,’ muttered Li Chi anxiously.
From no great distance came the patter of footsteps, swift with the desperate urgency of a man running for his life. Branches crackled. Twigs swished as they were flung aside. Biggles drew his pistol, and jumping ashore took up a position behind a tree. Ginger did the same. The Salones crouched in their boat, knives in their hands.
With a final spurt the runner crashed into the clearing. It was Ayert. He was panting through lips that were drawn back showing the teeth: his manner was as savage as that of a tiger brought to bay. Seeing the others, who now stepped out from cover, he came to a skidding stop, and addressing his master, broke into furious speech.
Li Chi listened with the impassive calm of his race until Ayert had finished – or until he had to stop to draw breath. Then he turned to Biggles. ‘It is worse than we feared,’ he said quietly. ‘Much worse.’
‘What’s happened?’ asked Biggles shortly.
‘As I supposed, the Japanese objective was the bungalow at Shansie. They burst in upon Major Marling, giving him no time to hide things which he could have put away had he known the Japanese were coming. He has been arrested.’
‘But I thought the object of Ayert going ahead was to warn him?’
‘It was. Unfortunately some of the Japanese also disembarked higher up the river, and by marching overland, forestalled him. They marched along a track, which compelled Ayert to keep in the jungle. He was just too late to be of any use.’