Biggles and the Black Peril

by W E Johns

  With a suddenness that seemed impossible, the great fog belt had lifted. It was almost as if an unseen hand had raised the curtain of a mighty stage, exposing the scene that lay beyond it. The effect was stupefying, and for a full minute all four of them remained rooted to the ground in sheer astonishment whilst the Vandal floated lazily towards them under the impetus of the last pull on the rope. Biggles began to laugh, and the others joined in as the strain of their vigil ended abruptly and the humour of the situation struck them. They laughed and laughed again until Biggles leaned against the hull and sobbed.

  'That's enough,' he pleaded at last. 'Well, I've done some fool tricks in my life, but this is about the frozen limit. It just shows what you can do in a fog.'

  There was a good reason for their humour, for they all stood in the middle of a narrow river up which they had been towing the Vandal. Within thirty yards of them on either side were the banks, one steep and thickly wooded, but the other fairly open, although dotted here and there with stunted pine trees. About a mile behind them, in the direction from which they had come, the river widened into an estuary that opened out into the open sea, now ruffled by the slight breeze that blew away the last vestiges of the mist, and left only the blue sky above them from which the sun shone brightly.

  In the clear light of day it was easy to see what had happened. They had struck the sand-bar, such as one so often finds at the mouths of rivers, just beyond the estuary, and following it blindly, had dragged the Vandal up the river itself. As a matter of fact, the sand-bank actually ended a few yards farther on, so had they persisted in their efforts, they would have struck deep water, and climbing aboard, drifted back to the sea.

  There was no one in sight, not a house, or any sign of human habitation; nor could they see Blackbeard's seaplane.

  'Wade across to the bank and take a look out to sea, Ginger,' said Biggles.

  Ginger obediently splashed his way through the shallow water, and scrambled up the sand dune that formed the bank on the open side. Near the top he dropped on all fours and peeped over. Simultaneously, the roar of an aeroplane engine shattered the silence from somewhere near at hand, the sound coming from a point so close that they all started and rushed towards the Vandal in confusion. Ginger took one peep and then tore back to the machine. His eyes were round with wonderment when he reached it, and for a moment he seemed to have some difficulty in speaking.

  'How far away is it?' asked Biggles.

  'It! Not so much of the "it," ' gasped Ginger. "There are two of 'em. Blackbeard's machine is one, and the other—'

  'Go on.'

  'It's one of the giant bombers, and there's a crowd of people aboard.'

  'What!' Biggles sprang round as if he had been stung.

  'It's a fact, and it isn't more than a mile away. Blackbeard has just started his engine, and he's only just on the other side of the hill. The sea comes right in again round the corner.'

  'But how on earth did the big machine get here without us hearing it?' exclaimed Algy.

  'I should say one of the other machines called it up by radio as soon as we were spotted, and we didn't hear it coming for the noise of the other machines. The fog forced it down, no doubt, and it drifted in on the same current as ourselves. The thing is, what are we going to do about it? We can't hide the Vandal, and they'll spot it the moment they take off. I think our best plan is to moor up to the bank and then make for the nearest town. For the life of me, I can't see what the Huns can do now. After all, we're in Sweden, and they can't kick up a rumpus here without the authorities taking a hand. But let's get ashore.'

  It was the work of a moment to pull the Vandal to the far bank and tie her securely to the nearest tree.

  'Are we going to leave somebody with the machine?' asked Algy.

  'Not on your life,' retorted Biggles. 'They're not interested in the machine; it's us they want. The machine can't tell tales-we can. Anybody they get hold of will go back to Russia in the big machine; that's probably why they brought it. No! Safety first is the motto. We stick together this time; the machine will have to take care of itself-look out!'

  The crescendo bellow of Blackbeard's engine warned them that he was about to take off, and they ran up the slope into the wood just as the seaplane zoomed over the opposite bank. The pilot saw them-or it may have been that he saw the Vandal only-instantly, for he banked sharply and then circled above the spot. Then he straightened out and, heading off in a straight course over the wooded hill, disappeared from sight.

  'Now what's his game, I wonder?' murmured Biggles from the cover of the trees. 'Where's he off to? No matter, let us push on and try to find a village of some sort. I cannot see that he can do any mischief now, but you never know,' he went on as they breasted the steep, timber-covered slope, and then stopped dead as the landscape beyond came into view. In front of them, but slightly below and about two miles away, were the outskirts of a large seaport town. The streets were thronged with traffic, and a fleet of small boats, with one or two large deep-sea craft amongst them, were at anchor in the harbour.

  'Well, there's our destination,' he continued, 'although I hardly expected to find such a big place so handy. Hullo! There's Blackbeard's machine just taxiing in; it will be interesting to see what his next move will be, although I have a nasty feeling that he has something up his sleeve. All the same, if we can get petrol here, I don't see why we shouldn't ask for police protection if necessary. It might be difficult to get away while he is hanging about here with that gun-but let us take one thing at a time; we'll deal with that difficulty when it arrives. A square meal is the first thing we want; if I don't soon get some food I shall pass out. After that we'll see about the petrol.'

  'You've sure said it,' declared Ginger emphatically.

  'Come on, then, let's go and see about it,' returned Biggles, starting forward.

  They soon struck a road, and, following it in the direction of the town, came out about half an hour later on the waterfront near the harbour. It was with mingled relief and curiosity that they once more mixed with the sights and sounds of civilization, but they did not pause to enjoy them; they were all far too hungry. They hurried along the street, and although they were rather self-conscious of their untidy condition, they attracted no attention.

  Biggles turned into the first restaurant they reached and seated himself at a table with a smile of satisfaction; it was not a very prepossessing place, but they were in no mood to be particular.

  'We shall have to report to the Customs Office, shan't we?' inquired Algy.

  'Certainly. As a matter of fact we ought to go straight there, but we'll leave it until after we've eaten. I shouldn't be surprised if we are asked some awkward questions. Where's Ginger, by the way?' he added, looking round.

  'He stopped at the shop outside to buy a postcard; he said he wanted to send one to his father,' replied Smyth.

  'But he hasn't any money, has he?'

  'He has a few German marks; he said he thought the people in the shop would change them into Swedish money for him.'

  'I see. He's a good kid to think of writing home; it's the last thing a good many would think of at this stage. Well, what are we going to eat? Strewth! Look who's here.'

  The glass-topped door of the restaurant had opened, and Blackbeard, with a heavily-built man beside him, entered. Two other men, who may or may not have been with them, followed them in, and seated themselves at a table just inside. Blackbeard, without the slightest hesitation, walked over to the table at which the three Englishmen were sitting, and pulling up a chair from the next table, sat down at Biggles' elbow. The other man did the same.

  Biggles did not so much as glance at them. He studied the menu carefully, and then gave an order to the waiter by the simple expedient of pointing on the card to the dishes he chose, although as he confessed to the others, his selection was largely a matter of guess-work.

  'There are two things you can always get easily when travelling abroad, whether you speak the lang
uage or not,' he said slowly. 'one is food, and the other is the unwelcome attention of strangers.'

  'But you wouldn't call me a stranger,' protested Blackbeard evenly.

  'I certainly shouldn't include you amongst my friends,' replied Biggles casually. 'My memory is get-ting bad, I'm afraid, but I cannot recall inviting you to join us at breakfast.'

  'No! I thought you might overlook it, so I invited myself,' Blackbeard told him with a curious smile.

  'Then I hope you will enjoy watching us eat. We are not really inhospitable, but we are very hungry, so we may be some time. You'll forgive us, I am sure, if we proceed.'

  'We are in no hurry. I'll wait for you to finish and then show you what our hospitality is like. Make a good meal, we have a long way to go.'

  'Really! In that case, why not start?'

  'No, we'll wait for you; you're coming with us.'

  'Don't you take rather a lot for granted?' observed Biggles, coldly, as he attacked his soup with gusto. Then, with a change of tone, 'Drop the bluff; it won't work here. We're in Sweden now.'

  'Bluff?' murmured Blackbeard, raising his eye-brows, and glancing significantly towards the two men just inside the door, and then at several others who could be seen on the pavement outside through the plate-glass windows of the shop front. 'Really, Bigglesworth, you do me less than justice.'

  Biggles smiled, but inwardly he knew that the position was more serious than he had at first supposed. It looked as if the crew of the big flying boat had come ashore to support the German, and if that was so, the crew of the Vandal were by no means out of the wood, for Biggles did not need telling that their enemies would stick at nothing to silence them. He saw Ginger walk past the shop front, swing breezily through the door and start towards them, and then hesitate as his eyes fell on Blackbeard. He altered his course abruptly, and without another glance in their direction went straight on through a door at the back of the dining-room that appeared to lead to the rear of the building.

  Not by a flicker of an eyelid did Biggles betray that he was one of his party, and Blackbeard, whose back was turned towards the room, did not see him.

  Neither Algy nor Smyth had so far taken part in the conversation; they had concentrated their attention on the food that was being set before them with an interest that was by no means feigned. Algy now looked up. 'This is a good pie,' he declared.

  'Eat it while you may, my friend,' returned Black-beard suavely, 'it may be your last.' Then his manner changed. 'I think this has gone on long enough,' he went on coldly. 'In case it is in your minds to do anything foolish, I warn you that it is quite impossible for any of you to leave this room alive except in my company.'

  'But you can't—' began Biggles.

  Blackbeard waved his hand in a deprecating gesture. 'Can't,' he sneered, 'can't? What word is this? Pish! The issues in which I am interested and in which you have so ill-advisedly meddled, are too big for such words, or to permit a small matter like your removal to stand in the way. Whatever may be demanded as a result of the subsequent investigation, whether it be compensation or merely an apology to the Swedish or even the British Government-these things can be dealt with by those whose work it is. Our object will have been achieved. What has been done cannot be undone. You know too much, Bigglesworth. Incidentally, it may save some unpleasantness if you will return the documents you took from my office.'

  For a moment Biggles did not understand, then he remembered the papers that had been in the port-folio which Ginger had taken, and which no doubt still reposed in his pocket. Evidently they were of importance. He looked Blackbeard straight in the face.

  'I've no papers of yours,' he said.

  Blackbeard shrugged his shoulders. 'Have it that way if you like; it will all be the same in the end,' he said shortly. 'And now, if you have finished your meal, perhaps you are ready to go?'

  'Purely as a matter of interest-where?'

  'We have a machine waiting,' was the evasive reply.

  'In that case I prefer to remain here.'

  'As you will. I, however, shall go, so this will be your last opportunity of leaving with safety. Remember that I gave you fair warning. You cannot remain here indefinitely. While you are here you can do no harm; sooner or later you will try to leave, and then-well, my men have their instructions. I might mention that the house is surrounded.'

  Biggles lit a cigarette and quietly considered the position, for he knew that Blackbeard was speaking the truth. As the German had said, they knew too much, and they would not be allowed to leave the place alive except to return to Russia. Outrageous though it may seem, murder would be committed. The fact that the murderer, or murderers, might at some future date be apprehended by the police would make no difference as far as they were concerned, or, for that matter, where Russia or Germany were concerned. The governments of those countries would sacrifice the instruments of their nefarious plans with-out a qualm. The position was desperate, and it was no use blinking at it, he thought. He glanced up at the proprietor of the restaurant who was counting some money on his desk, on which rested a telephone.

  'It would be unwise to look for assistance in that direction,' murmured Blackbeard, following his eyes. 'If you attempted to leave this table the move would be your last. My men—'

  He was interrupted by a sudden outcry from the door, which was flung open from the outside, and Ginger, followed by half a dozen uniformed police-men, entered.

  'There they are!' he cried shrilly, pointing towards the table; 'Those are the fellows who did it.' He indicated Biggles furiously. 'He's the one who's got my purse!'

  Before Biggles had time to recover from his astonishment, or Blackbeard to intervene, the policemen had dashed to the table and seized Biggles by the arms.

  A man in civilian clothes joined the party, 'I am interpreter,' he said harshly, 'which is Bigglesworth?'

  'I am,' replied Biggles quickly, suddenly under-standing.

  'Yes, that's him-he's the one that's got my money,' joined in Ginger.

  'What nonsense is this?' cried Biggles, rising to the occasion. 'I—'

  'You better keep explanation for the Chief,' interrupted the interpreter.

  The proprietor, the waiters, and even the patrons of the restaurant had by this time all crowded round the scene being enacted at Biggles's table, so it was out of the question for Blackbeard's men to even consider using their weapons. Indeed, in the general scramble it was as much as they could do to see what was going on. Blackbeard himself watched the three prisoners led out through the quickly-growing crowd with impotent rage written on his face.

  Through the door and up the street, stared at by all and sundry, the prisoners were led by their police escort. What happened to Blackbeard they could not see.

  'All right, we'll come quietly,' Biggles told the interpreter. 'There is no need for your fellows to wrench my arms off. It's all a mistake; we shan't run away. That's the last thing we should be likely to do,' he added meaningly in an undertone.

  The party, still watched by an interested group of spectators, reached an imposing building in the main street and passed through the forbidding portal. There were no formalities; they were hurried along a corridor to the cells, and it was with some satisfaction that they saw they were not to be separated. Biggles laughed as the door clanged behind them-he couldn't help it.

  'I've said it before and I'll say it again,' he observed cheerfully, 'that kid's a genius. He's got more "nouse"* than any man I ever met. That idea of his to give us in charge for robbery, and have us led out under police escort, was a brainwave. We were in a nasty jam, and I couldn't see how we were going to get out of it.'

  * Slang: common sense.

  'But this is a bit steep, being clapped into jail,' protested Algy.

  'Not so steep as being clapped in a coffin, believe me,' declared Biggles.

  Chapter 15

  Biggles Explains

  Barely two hours passed before the door was opened by one of the police officers who h
ad arrested them, but he now looked at them with undisguised curiosity as he beckoned them to follow.

  They passed up a short flight of stone steps and quickly found themselves in a spacious, well-appointed office. Behind a large mahogany writing-desk near the window sat a broad-shouldered man in uniform, whose natural severity of expression was intensified by piercing blue eyes and close-cropped hair. A little to one side of him sat a man whose black coat and striped trousers were obviously of English cut; a bowler hat rested on the desk in front of him. In an enormous chair at the far side of the room, looking ridiculously out of place, sat Ginger; he grin-ned sheepishly as they entered.

  At a nod from the Chief of Police; for such they rightly judged the uniformed man to be, the police-man who had brought them up departed, leaving the three airmen standing in line in front of the desk. The Commissioner of Police looked at them queerly for a moment, and then said something to the man in the black coat, who cleared his throat and addressed them.

  'The Chief does not speak English,' he began, 'so as we assume you do not speak Swedish, I have been asked to talk to you. Which of you is Major Bigglesworth?'

  'I am, sir,' replied Biggles.

  'And you are the leader of this–er–party?'

  Biggles bowed slightly.

  'I thought so. My name is Hesterley, and I am personal assistant to Sir Harding Boyce, his Majesty's Consul at Stockholm.'

  'Is this Stockholm?' asked Biggles in surprise.

  'No, this is Christianbad. I came here as quickly as possible from Stockholm at the request of the Commissioner of Police in response to the pleadings of the junior member of your party, with whom I may say we have already had a conversation. He has explained to me personally his reason for giving you in charge. The Chief,' - he glanced at the officer - 'has accepted my explanation of the affair, and is satisfied that a mistake has been made. Further, he has been good enough to put a private room at our disposal. The circumstances are extraordinarily difficult, as you will no doubt realize. Whatever the true facts of the case may be, we-that is, my office-can only regard you as ordinary British subjects who have got into trouble, so I must have a full explanation. The police, naturally, will expect a report. You have your passports?'