Biggles' Second Case

by W E Johns

  ‘You swine,’ rasped Ginger. He made a dash at the German, but one of the sailors caught him by the arm and swung him round.

  Thom laughed unpleasantly. His manner was easy and confident. He spoke to one of his men, jerking his head towards the aircraft.

  Ginger went to Biggles, took his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the blood from his face. He was still doing this when he was jerked roughly to his feet by the collar.

  Looking round he saw that the aircraft was in flames. Thom laughed again. The party began to move towards the boat, which was still waiting at the edge of the ice. Biggles, still unconscious, was dragged along by the jacket, and at the end bundled into the bottom of the boat. Ginger was pushed in.

  The fog closed in again as the boat was rowed towards its parent ship, and Ginger reflected bitterly on the evil luck that had caused it to lift at such an untimely moment.

  The boat was guided to its objective by frequent hails. The prisoners were taken aboard and locked in a reasonably decent cabin. Soon afterwards the timbers vibrated as the engines were started, and at the same time Biggles opened his eyes.

  He looked at Ginger and said: ‘Where are we — on the whaler?’

  Ginger nodded. ‘That swine Thom hit you as dirty a blow as ever I saw.’

  Biggles sat up, feeling his face tenderly. ‘He’s a Nazi,’ he said simply. ‘You must expect Nazis to do that sort of thing, just as you’d expect a mad dog to bite.’

  ‘Are you all right?’ asked Ginger anxiously.

  ‘No bones broken, anyway,’ answered Biggles, standing up and testing his limbs. ‘Don’t worry. We haven’t finished yet. With any luck at all I’ll hand back to Mr Thom what he gave me — with interest. What’s happening?’

  ‘Nothing, except that the ship is under way, moving dead slow on account of the fog, I suppose.’

  ‘Bound for Corbie Island, no doubt. We should soon know whether or not I hit the U-boat.’

  ‘Von Schonbeck isn’t going to greet you with open arms if he guesses it was you who dropped those depth-charges.’

  ‘From what we know of von Schonbeck he wouldn’t greet anyone with open arms, not even his dying mother,’ returned Biggles, moistening his bruised lips. Borrowing Ginger’s handkerchief he dipped it in a can of water and bathed his face.

  ‘Thom evidently guessed what we were after,’ offered Ginger.

  ‘Bound to. What else would we be doing here but looking for him? I should say these pirates have got the situation pretty well weighed up. One thing they may not guess is that we have a spare machine.’

  ‘Algy will wonder what has happened to us.’

  ‘He may find out. Let us hope so. He’s our trump card. Better not talk about him, though, in case anyone comes eavesdropping.’

  ‘Sure you’re not hurt?’

  Biggles smiled faintly. ‘Those two punches shook me up a bit,’ he admitted. ‘They’d have shaken anyone. I wasn’t ready. I shall be all right presently — a couple of black eyes and a bit stiff in the tummy, maybe.’ He sat down on one of the two bunks. ‘We might as well make ourselves comfortable until we get to where we’re going.’

  ‘You think Thom is going to make contact with von Schonbeck?’

  ‘I’m pretty sure of it. He wouldn’t have bothered about taking us with him unless he was due to meet a superior officer. He’d have left us on that ice-floe, stiff — or heaved us into the water. Did you see anything as we came aboard?’

  ‘Some sailors.’

  ‘Did any of them look like Norwegians?’

  Ginger shook his head. ‘Couldn’t say. They didn’t speak. Just stood watching.’

  ‘We shall soon know,’ murmured Biggles, stretching himself on the bunk.

  ‘They took our guns,’ said Ginger.

  ‘They wouldn’t be likely to overlook a simple precaution like that,’ returned Biggles dryly. ‘Not that guns would be much use to us now. Brains are the only things that’ll get us out of this jam. There’s this about it. We’re not rushed for time. We’re a long way from Corbie Island, if that’s our destination. At the rate we shall travel through this ice region we shan’t arrive much before dawn. That’ll give us time to think things over.’

  It was, in fact, in the grey light of dawn that the whaler arrived at a landfall which, watching through a porthole, Biggles recognised as Corbie Island. As he expected, the ship turned into the cove where the submarine had been moored. With what interest he watched to see if the U-boat was still there can be imagined. For a little while, as the whaler was coaxed in, travelling dead slow, he had reason to hope that he had sent the U-boat to the bottom with his depth-charges, for he could not see it — at least, at its original mooring. Then, to his intense disappointment, he made out the long, grey shape hard against the rocks farther in the cove. It was movement and sounds of human activity that revealed the submarine’s new berth, for the vessel had been so cleverly camouflaged that it was almost impossible to distinguish it from the rocks to which it was made fast. He noticed that rocks had even been strewn along the iron deck in such a way that it would be practically impossible to spot the submarine from the air, even from a low-flying aircraft. Indeed, as the whaler drew near he observed that it was against air observation in particular that the U-boat had been camouflaged. And presently he noticed something else. The submarine was not on even keel. Her knife-like bows were too far out of the water. This, he thought, could hardly be accidental. It was more likely, he decided, that the vessel had been damaged and was now being repaired — a supposition that was supported by activity around her. All this information he passed back to Ginger as the whaler glided on to an anchorage some sixty or seventy yards from the U-boat. He saw Thom go ashore, to be met by a man in naval uniform who now emerged from a small rock-built structure. It was still too dark to distinguish features or badges of rank, and in any case the newcomer had his coat collar turned up against the biting wind; but he had no doubt as to who it was.

  ‘Von Schonbeck is here,’ he told Ginger. ‘The next few minutes should be quite exciting.’

  He watched Thom and his captain while they stood for a short time in earnest conversation. Then Thom returned to the whaler. ‘This, I fancy, is it,’ Biggles told Ginger.

  His suspicions were confirmed when a minute later footsteps sounded in the gangway outside the cabin. The door was thrown open. Thom stood there, with two sailors armed with rifles.

  ‘This way,’ he ordered.

  The party made its way to the deck where a number of sailors stood by to watch the little procession. Biggles noticed that they stood in two groups, and he thought he could guess the reason. One party were Germans, originally members of the U-boat’s crew, for they were all dressed alike in the usual heavy trousers and sweaters worn by the crews of underwater-craft. Those comprising the other group, a smaller group, from their nondescript garments were ordinary sailors, probably Norwegians, the surviving members of the whaling-ship’s company. Their expressions were different from those of the Germans. On their faces could be perceived such emotions as sympathy, commiseration and encouragement. However, neither Germans nor Norwegians spoke as the party descended the ladder that had been lowered and entered a small boat which was rowed quickly to the shore.

  The man whom the prisoners had every reason to suppose was von Schonbeck stood waiting. He was younger than Biggles had imagined. Much younger, in fact. He might have been twenty-five years of age, not more; and as far as actual features were concerned no fault could be found. But here again, in the truculent bearing, the cold, humourless face and the hard, merciless mouth, Biggles recognised the typical Hitler fanatic. As he had on more than one occasion remarked to Ginger, they all appeared to have been cast in the same mould — as in fact, in a way, they were.

  The party assembled, von Schonbeck lost no time in coming to the point. Considering Biggles with frosty hostility he said, in good English: ‘You know who I am?’

  Biggles answered: ‘I think so. You’re von
Schonbeck, aren’t you?’

  ‘Captain von Schonbeck is my name,’ was the brittle rejoinder. ‘Of the German Navy.’

  ‘There is no German Navy,’ reminded Biggles quietly.

  ‘I am an officer of the German Navy,’ rasped von Schonbeck.

  ‘There is no such thing,’ returned Biggles coolly. ‘You may be on the high seas under arms, but that only makes you a common pirate.’

  Von Schonbeck drew a deep breath and changed the subject. He jerked a thumb towards the U-boat. ‘Are you the man who did this?’ he inquired, with anger hardening his voice.

  ‘Did what?’

  ‘Damaged my submarine.’

  ‘I tried to sink it, if that’s what you mean,’ returned Biggles calmly. ‘It’s some comfort to me to know that I damaged it. I was afraid I’d missed it altogether. I must be out of practice. Is the damage serious?’

  Von Schonbeck’s cold blue eyes remained on Biggles’ face. Into them crept a suspicion of curiosity, as if the prisoner’s nonchalant manner puzzled him. ‘I was afraid at first that it was,’ he said slowly. ‘However, my chief engineer assures me that we shall not be delayed more than twenty-four hours.’

  ‘I’ll try to do better next time,’ promised Biggles.

  ‘There will be no next time,’ answered von Schonbeck grimly. ‘When I have finished with you, you will be shot.’

  Biggles raised his eyebrows. ‘Finished with me?’

  ‘No doubt you are wondering why you were brought here?’

  ‘No.’ A ghost of a smile crossed Biggles’ face. ‘I hadn’t even given it a thought.’

  Von Schonbeck stared hard for a little while. ‘There is a confidence in your manner that excites my curiosity,’ he admitted.

  ‘It would be still more excited if you knew what I know,’ replied Biggles.

  ‘Indeed! Then let us proceed to find out what that is. You will be well advised to answer my questions truthfully. Who sent you out on this errand?’

  ‘What errand?’ inquired Biggles blandly.

  ‘Your errand was to find me, was it not?’ snapped von Schonbeck, who seemed to be on the way to losing his temper.

  ‘As a matter of fact it was,’ admitted Biggles.

  ‘Who sent you?’

  ‘The British Government.’

  ‘Ah! How did the British Government learn that I was coming here?’

  ‘You’d be surprised if you knew how much they do know about you.’

  Von Schonbeck’s mouth set in even harder lines. The corners came down. ‘Very interesting,’ he grated. ‘How did your Government get this information?’

  ‘That, I’m afraid, I shall have to leave you to find out from some other source.’

  ‘Be careful not to drive me too far.’

  ‘From what I know of you, von Schonbeck, you need no driving to do anything — and as that includes murder you can’t go much further,’ said Biggles evenly.

  The Nazi stared. For a few seconds he seemed to be at a loss for words. Then, with an obvious effort, he recovered his composure. ‘So you don’t feel inclined to talk, eh?’

  Biggles shook his head. ‘Not at the moment, and when I do I like to choose my company. But isn’t it rather cold standing here? We’ve had no breakfast, you know.’

  At this juncture Thom broke into a spate of words, as if he could no longer contain his fury; but von Schonbeck silenced him with a gesture. Not for a moment did he take his eyes from Biggles’ face. ‘You are what you English would call a cool customer,’ he remarked. ‘But that won’t help you now,’ he added. ‘What other ships, if any, are looking for me?’

  ‘I can well understand how anxious you must be to know that, but you can’t seriously expect me to tell you,’ rejoined Biggles.

  ‘It would make things easier for you if you changed your mind,’ suggested the Nazi.

  ‘I doubt it,’ murmured Biggles sceptically.

  Again von Schonbeck hesitated. ‘I’ll give you a little while to think it over. I realise, of course, that you must find your present position vexatious.’

  Biggles shrugged. ‘Please yourself. For the moment my time is yours. But if you must keep us hanging about I’d appreciate some coffee.’

  ‘I’ll see that you get some,’ promised von Schonbeck. Turning to Thom he went on, in German: ‘Take them back to the ship. I’ll talk to them again later.’

  The prisoners were returned to their cabin where, soon afterwards, sure enough, the coffee arrived – coffee, biscuits and a small tin of butter. The man who brought these refreshments departed, locking the door behind him.

  ‘Von Schonbeck isn’t such a bad sort after all,’ remarked Ginger, pouring the coffee.

  ‘Pah! Don’t let yourself be taken in by this boloney,’ muttered Biggles. ‘Make no mistake, von Schonbeck hates the sight of us. No doubt he always did hate anything British, but now we’ve beaten Germany he must hate us with a hate you and I could scarcely understand. He’ll shoot us when it suits him. The only reason we aren’t stiff now is because we possess information he must be desperately anxious to have. He wants to know how much we know, and what steps the British Government have taken to round him up. Upon that information his life depends, and he jolly well knows it. He’s put us here while he thinks of a trick to wheedle the information out of us – either that or he hopes we’ll lose our nerve and squeal. I’m not complaining. That suits me fine, because it gives us more time to find a way out of this jam.’

  ‘And it gives Algy a little more time—’

  ‘Ssh!’ Biggles raised a warning hand, glancing at the door. ‘I wouldn’t talk about that now,’ he said softly. ‘They may be listening. We’ll confine this conversation to things that don’t matter. If you have anything to say that does matter, whisper it.’

  ‘How long is this going on do you think?’ asked Ginger.

  ‘Not long. Until tonight perhaps — or tomorrow morning. Remember what von Schonbeck said about the damage. His engineer said it would delay the sub for twenty-four hours. I take that to mean if she hadn’t been damaged she’d be away by now. It also means that as soon as the sub is ready to travel she’ll go. That’s when the showdown, as far as we are concerned, will come. Meanwhile, let’s keep an eye open through that porthole to see what happens ashore. We may learn something.’

  CHAPTER X

  Algy Carries On

  Meanwhile, Algy and Bertie were having an adventure of their own.

  After sighting the bears, from which they drew natural but quite wrong conclusions, they did not stay long on the iceberg. There was inevitably a brief debate as to what course they should pursue, for Bertie could see no point in returning to Corbie Island after having drawn blank there earlier in the day. But Algy was not so convinced by this line of argument, pointing out that if Biggles had been shelled by the submarine he must have been pretty close to it, in which case von Schonbeck would take every possible precaution to hide his ship from air observation. This, at Corbie Island, would not be difficult, he averred. He was therefore in favour of making another, a closer inspection of the island, and the water surrounding it.

  In the end a compromise was reached. In any case it would be necessary to return to Kerguelen for more petrol before going to Corbie Island. So it was decided that they should make a reconnaissance of all the icebergs in the region, for which they had sufficient fuel, on the off-chance of finding Biggles and Ginger; failing in this they would return to Kerguelen for petrol and then, conditions permitting, make another trip to Corbie Island. This settled, the aircraft was taken into the air and the survey of the ice-floes begun.

  It was a dismal business, for while not admitting it neither entertained any real hope of finding anything of interest. Visibility was far from good, but it might have been worse, although even in bright sunshine the scene would not have induced high spirits. On all sides lay a restless ocean of dark, cold-looking water, dotted by ‘bergs, floes and fragments of ice of all shapes and sizes. The picture was one of utter
desolation. Apart from an occasional seal there was no sign of life.

  For half an hour Algy maintained his patrol, flying in wide circles, examining each piece of ice methodically but without result. Arriving at the extremity of the ice he turned towards Kerguelen with the disconsolate remark: ‘No use.’

  ‘Better have a look at that odd ‘berg, old boy — the big fellow over there,’ suggested Bertie, pointing to a solitary mass of ice that floated a little apart from the main field.

  ‘Okay,’ agreed Algy, without enthusiasm; and he was bringing the machine round in a shallow turn when he saw something that caused him — to use his own expression — to stiffen on the stick. From behind a rugged pyramid of ice piled up in the middle of the ‘berg had appeared a figure, the figure of a man.

  ‘There’s one of them!’ shouted Bertie.

  As Algy flew, now with the nose of the aircraft well down, a second figure appeared and joined the first. Another followed, and another and another, until by the time the ‘berg was reached five men stood staring upward. With one accord they waved.

  ‘Good Lord!’ ejaculated Bertie. ‘What do you make of that?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ answered Algy slowly. ‘They may be some of von Schonbeck’s men,’ he added cautiously.

  ‘Go nearer,’ suggested Bertie. ‘They can’t hurt us.’

  Algy went lower. ‘I don’t see any ship,’ he muttered. ‘There’s something mighty queer about this. Who on earth are they, and how did they get there?’

  ‘Let’s ask them — what?’ suggested Bertie cheerfully.

  Algy flew lower over the little group, tilting a wing so that he could get a clear view.

  Upon this the men waved more vigorously, making beckoning signs that could only mean they were anxious for the machine to land.

  ‘I’m going to risk it,’ decided Algy, and after making another turn put the machine down on the water to finish its run not far from the ice. The five men came scrambling towards it.