by W E Johns
‘Let’s head back to the fire for a start,’ suggested Biggles practically.
He led the way back to where a few twigs still burnt briskly and flopped down limply on the rock on which Ginger had sat during his brief guard. The others saw that he was pale, and knew that he had been more shaken than he had admitted.
‘Well?’ asked Ginger questioningly, looking at the others in turn.
‘Well, what?’ inquired Algy.
‘What are we going to do?’
‘Stay where we are,’ put in Biggles shortly.
‘What about the mosquitoes?’
‘What about them?’
‘You said you were going to get some more firewood.’
‘Quite right, so I did,’ confessed Biggles. ‘But I’ve changed my mind. Of course, there’s nothing to prevent you from going and getting some—’
‘Not me,’ interrupted Ginger decisively. ‘I’ve done all the exploring I’m going to do for one night.’
‘Look here, it’s no use going on like this,’ said Biggles seriously. ‘We shall have to try to get in a few winks of sleep or we shall all feel like death in the morning. Let’s keep double guards; that won’t be so nervy as doing it solo. Ginger and I will start. In an hour Ginger will lie down, and you, Algy, will take his place. An hour later I’ll lie down and Ginger will have to get up again; and so on. It’s heavy going, but it can’t be helped; it’s better than all of us sitting up all the time, anyway. We shall have to do the best we can with the fire; by keeping it a mere flicker we might be able to make it last for some time, and it can always be made up if any visitors start prowling round.’
‘Sounds a good idea to me,’ observed Algy.
‘And me,’ agreed Ginger.
And so it was agreed, and for the second time they settled down to pass the night.
CHAPTER XIII
WHAT NEXT?
THE stars were still in the sky the following morning when Ginger was awakened by the crackling of twigs to find Biggles and Algy busily warming up the remains of their unappetizing meat supply, and the realization of their position brought him to his feet immediately. It was bitterly cold, and he was glad to stretch his hands to the warmth of the fire.
‘Did you see anything during your watch?’ he asked Biggles, more for the sake of saying something than for anything else, after congratulations had been exchanged on their survival of a perilous night.
‘I didn’t see much, but I heard a lot,’ grinned Biggles.
‘Same here,’ nodded Ginger. ‘From the grunting, coughing, and splashing, there were enough animals round that water-hole to fill all the zoos in the world six times over.’
‘Yes, it was a bit alarming,’ agreed Biggles. ‘Just sink your teeth into some of this steak, you two, and make the most of it; it may be some time before we get another meal. And don’t be too long about it; the sooner we are on the move the farther we shall get before the sun becomes really hot. It’s going to be a scorcher again by the look of it, and I’m a bit stiff from the fond embrace of that overgrown worm last night.’
‘You’re lucky you aren’t completely stiff,’ grinned Ginger, as he helped himself to the uninviting fare.
It took them only a few minutes to clear up what was left of the meat; they washed it down with a small quantity of the brackish water, and then, tightening their belts, they prepared to march.
‘Which way?’ asked Algy.
‘We’ll cut across to the telephone wire again,’ replied Biggles. ‘It is certain to follow the easiest pass through the mountains. I expect we shall find Karuli the other side of them. If Stampoulos is growing tobacco, and I think he’s bound to put up some sort of pretence of doing it, even if the plantation isn’t genuine, it won’t be on these rocks, that’s certain. I don’t mind admitting that I’m a bit curious to see this place of his.’
They found the wire without difficulty, and following its course, came to a great gash in the mountains, the floor of which, nevertheless, ascended steeply. They could not see very far ahead, for the ravine pursued a winding course, but that did not worry them; in fact, they were relieved to find such an easy path, for the mountains had by now assumed alarming proportions, and they realized that, but for the telephone wire which showed them the way into the ravine, they would have found themselves faced with an obstacle beyond their power to cross.
In the shade offered by the towering sides of the gorge they made good progress, and a fresh turn showed them that they had nearly reached the highest point. In their anxiety to see over the great watershed they hurried forward, but just before they reached the top they pulled up with one accord as a distant sound was wafted to their ears. They looked at each other expectantly, for it was the hum of an aeroplane.
Biggles turned and raced to the summit, for the walls on either side of them restricted their field of view, and on reaching it turned about and looked back over the plain whence came the sound.
‘There he is!’ cried Ginger, pointing to a speck in the distance.
‘It ‘s the Dragon,’ exclaimed Algy as, notwithstanding the distance, his eyes picked out the familiar outline.
‘Leroux on his way home,’ said Biggles. ‘Keep under cover; at the height he’s flying he will pass over us very low, and we don’t want him to see us.’
In silence they stood and watched the aeroplane approach, roar past a few hundred feet over their heads, and then rapidly diminish in size as it sped on over the unknown country ahead. They were still watching it when the roar of the engine died away suddenly and the machine began to lose height.
‘He’s going down,’ said Biggles. ‘That leaves us in little doubt as to the position of Karuli.’
The machine was still in the air when it faded into the haze, but was losing height quickly, and they knew that their objective was not much more than a day’s march.
The subject of their attention having disappeared, they dropped their eyes to the country over which they would have to pass, and for some minutes they regarded its wild splendour with admiration. It was, broadly speaking, what is usually described as ‘rolling’ country: that is, undulating in rather a big way; and whereas the plain behind them had been arid in the real sense of the word, the new panorama on which they gazed was fertile; the herbage was a soft green, and from it rose magnificent trees, singly and in clumps, like the timber in an English park. The reason for such a striking contrast was clearly visible, for coiling across the landscape in mighty sweeps was a broad river. In a general way its course was from north to south, so that it formed as it were a dividing line between the mountains and the fertile country beyond. Indeed, so close to the mountains did it come in one of its serpentine detours that it actually disappeared from view near the foot of the elevation on which the three airmen stood looking down with questioning eyes, to reappear some distance farther on.
‘We shan’t be short of water again, that’s evident,’ remarked Biggles, looking down at the river. ‘On the contrary, it looks as if there might be more than we want. We’ve got to cross that river to get to Karuli, and while a bath wouldn’t do any of us any harm, in a country famous for its crocodiles, hippos, and other nuisances, I’d prefer to take mine in a nice enamelled tub. By James! Stampoulos tucked himself away all right while he was about it, didn’t he? If he’d searched the whole of Africa—which he may have done for all we know—he couldn’t have found a more inaccessible spot, a place less likely to be visited by anyone. On this side he is protected by a waterless plain, a range of mountains, and a river; on the other side by the Congo Basin which, from what I’ve heard of it, is pretty well impassable. No wonder he used air transport. We should never have got across these mountains if we hadn’t struck the pass.’ He broke off and glanced back at the towering crags. As he did so his eyes went round with astonishment. ‘Great Scott! Look at all this,’ he exclaimed.
The others turned quickly and beheld an extraordinary sight. In a wide semicircle amongst the mighty granite crags and b
oulders was a vast assembly of baboons. Some, most of them females, judging by the youngsters they held in their arms, were sitting still, but others were moving steadily forward with their almost-human eyes fixed on the intruders. Observing that they had been seen, some of these began to voice their indignation by uttering short, sharp barks.
Ginger laughed, for the spectacle was not without humour, and it was plain from their manner as they stood watching that not one of them suspected that they were in danger.
Then one of the baboons, an enormous creature that might have been the leader of the colony, ran forward, chattering with rage and showing its teeth viciously. Instantly, as if it were a signal for a general advance, many of the others began to move forward quickly, leaping from rock to rock with amazing agility.
The expression on Biggles’s face changed and he began to back away. ‘Let’s get out of this,’ he snapped. ‘I believe these brutes mean trouble. Algy, turn round with me and face them; Ginger, watch the path and tell us if there are any bad places. Look out! Mind your head!’
The last warning came as a result of an unexpected action on the part of the leader of the apes. It had seized a piece of rock and, with unbelievable ferocity, sent it hurtling down towards the now rapidly retreating airmen. It was followed by a dozen others, and presently the side of the mountain was alive with leaping rocks of all sizes.
Biggles abandoned all pretence at finesse. ‘Run for it!’ he yelled. ‘If one of those rocks hits any of us it will mean broken bones at least.’
In something not far removed from panic they set off down the path at a speed which normally they would have regarded as suicidal, for it began to fall away steeply and sheer drops of several feet were common. At one such place, where they could only scramble down one at a time, Biggles whirled round, and seeing that the apes were still following, whipped out his automatic and let drive at the leader. The range was too long for accurate shooting, and the bullets missed their mark, but they made a startling noise as they ricochetted off the rocks, and the apes, who seemed to be fully aware of the danger, slowed down.
‘Keep going,’ panted Biggles as he raced on after the others.
The ravine had now broken down into comparatively open hillside although the path was still clearly defined; in fact, there were places where rough steps had been hewn in the granite.
A glance backward showed that the apes were still following, but they had dropped a good way behind and it was clear that the immediate danger was past.
‘I don’t think they’ll follow us much farther now that they see we’re going,’ muttered Biggles, wiping his forehead with his handkerchief. ‘We’d better not stop, though. What a swine of a place this is. What will be next, I wonder?’
He was soon to know.
Breathing heavily, knuckles and shins barked by the swift descent over the rough rock, they reached the level of the river and, turning a corner, saw it almost at their feet, the near side actually washing the rocks on which they stood.
Biggles pulled up with a cry of dismay, looking anxiously from left to right, for although the telephone wire spanned the river, secured on each side by heavy posts, there was no bridge, and the river was a good fifty yards wide.
Without speaking, they walked on until they reached the edge of the water.
‘It looks as if we shall have to swim, after all,’ observed Algy.
Biggles picked up a piece of loose rock and threw it at what appeared to be a strip of bark floating down the middle of the river. There were several such strips. It submerged instantly, leaving a line of bubbles to mark the place where it had been.
‘I’m not swimming in that river,’ he declared emphatically. ‘I’d sooner go back and face the apes. But surely there must be some way across, or the path wouldn’t be here. People—those warriors we saw, for instance—must use it. They must have come this way. I’ve got it! There must be a boat.’
‘It’s probably over on the other side,’ suggested Algy pessimistically.
‘No, I won’t have that,’ replied Biggles warmly. ‘Stampoulos and his dart-throwers we know are over this side, so assuming they crossed here, the boat must be over this side, too. We shall have to look for it.’
He was quite right; there was a boat, but it took them half an hour to find it, and even then it could hardly be called a boat. Actually, it was a dug-out canoe of the most primitive sort, being merely a hollowed-out tree-trunk with the ends shaped roughly to points. Moreover, it was rotten, with the freeboard broken down in places almost to the water’s edge.
They found it in a peculiar place some distance below the point where the path ended by the river. At the particular spot where they discovered it, lying half in and half out of the water, the river actually flowed through a rift in the foot-hills of the mountains, so that not only was there a steep rocky bank on the side on which they stood, but the wall on the other side was even steeper, making a direct crossing impossible. The distance to the place where the wall broke down again and became the usual reed-fringed bank was not great, but this was in the direction from which they had come, and therefore up-stream.
How far it was before the bank occurred again down-stream they had no means of knowing, for a bend hid it from view ; nor could they, owing to the interruption of an unscalable cliff, work their way along to a point from which they would be able to see how far they would have to travel that way before they could effect a landing.
For this reason Biggles hesitated after they had tilted the water out of the crazy craft and re-launched it. He eyed the current, which, owing to the narrowing of the river caused by the rocks, was fairly fast, with disfavour. ‘Well, which is it to be, up-stream or down?’ he asked, unable to make up his mind.
‘We shall make slow headway against that current if we try to go up-stream,’ declared Algy, ‘and this tub leaks like a sieve. I say let’s go down.’
‘What about carrying the boat higher up and going straight across,’ suggested Ginger.
‘That’s a good idea,’ agreed Biggles.
It was, and they attempted to put it into execution, only to abandon the project at once when they found that not by their united strength could they lift the water-soaked craft.
‘It’s no use,’ muttered Biggles disgustedly. ‘It would need a dozen men to carry it.’
He picked up the crude paddle and, not without difficulty, they took their places—Algy in the bows, Ginger in the middle, and Biggles in the stern. At first they turned the nose up-stream, but the difficulty of making progress combined with the waywardness of the dug-out, which, not being dead straight, went in any direction but the one desired, caused Biggles to change his mind, and as the nose swung he allowed it to come right round until it pointed down-stream, when forward progress became easier.
It was not long before they had an escort. It took the shape of a crocodile which appeared suddenly on the surface of the water a few yards away and watched them malevolently with cold, unwinking eyes. As they passed it turned and followed them.
Algy and Ginger watched it with a sort of fascinated horror.
‘Can’t you put a bit more beef behind that paddle?’ muttered Algy impatiently. ‘I don’t like the look of that customer.’
‘If I push any harder the confounded boat will turn over,’ answered Biggles shortly. ‘Keep your hands in the boat, both of you.’
Another crocodile appeared, then another and another until the water was literally swarming with them. The canoe rounded the bend, only to face another one fifty yards farther on, so it was now impossible to land on either side of the gulch.
They all turned pale as one of the saurians deliberately pushed its nose against the side of the canoe, causing it to rock and ship water through one of the gaps in the freeboard; and Ginger did not help to keep the boat steady by reaching for his automatic.
‘Put that thing away, you fool,’ grated Biggles harshly. ‘Wound one, and one swish of its tail would sink us—Ah! you swine!’ He raised
the paddle out of the water and shifted it over to the other side as one of the crocodiles made a grab at it.
Thereafter, the going, short as it was, became a nightmare of horror that none of them could ever recall without a shudder. They passed through a pool that seemed to be the head-quarters of all the crocodiles in Africa, and they surged about the canoe in a manner that made disaster seem only a matter of seconds. Yet somehow they managed to keep it afloat, and it swerved sideways round the bend to reveal the end of the rock on the far bank only a short distance away. At the same moment the dug-out quivered as if a giant rasp had been drawn across the keel, and instinctively a cry broke from Ginger’s lips.
‘Keep your head, everybody,’ snapped Biggles. ‘We’re nearly there.’
With agonizing slowness the canoe drifted towards the bank, with Biggles making quick strokes with the paddle as occasion offered, for the crocodiles were now making regular attempts to seize it and pull it into the water.
‘Take it gently when we ground,’ warned Biggles. ‘If any one tries jumping out we shall capsize.’
Several crocodiles were on the bank, but they all ran down to the water when they saw the canoe approaching. The surge they made as they plunged in caused the water to pour over the side of the canoe, and it began to sink bodily. Realizing the desperateness of the situation, Biggles risked everything on one final effort. He thrust the blade of the paddle deep into the water and hurled his weight behind it. He nearly went overboard as it was torn from his hands, but the stroke had had the desired effect, and the nose of the frail vessel swished softly into the muddy bank. ‘Out you go, Ginger,’ he cried.
Algy leapt ashore just as the canoe sank, but the water was shallow and the others found themselves standing only a little more than knee-deep. A splashing rush and they, too, were on the bank, pale and trembling, while a line of cold eyes watched them from the river.
Biggles passed his hand wearily over his face. ‘I’ve had just about as much of this sort of thing as I can stand,’ he murmured.