by W E Johns
‘What is it?’ he demanded sharply.
In a few words Algy reported the position.
‘Stiffen the crows!’ exclaimed Biggles furiously. ‘And I didn’t guess it. No matter. We should get him now. He can’t have got far.’
‘He’ll dive when he sees us,’ warned Algy.
‘If he’s out of the cove he will.’
‘What then?’
‘I’ll bring him up with depth-charges.’
‘You’ll be more likely to sink him — and he’s got the gold aboard.’
‘Okay, then I’ll sink him,’ rasped Biggles. ‘But I’m not letting him get away. He may still be in the cove, taking in oil or repairing his ship. If he is, we’ve got him. We’ll shut him in.’
‘How?’
‘By blasting the entrance of the cove. It’s very narrow. Or better still, we’ll bottle him in by using the whaler as a block ship. We’ll sink her across the entrance.’
‘The owners won’t be pleased if you sink their ship.’
‘What’s a whaler when five million pounds are at stake?’ rapped out Biggles. ‘I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. Taking depth-charges I’m going to the cove, dropping you at the whaler on the way. Tell Axel to turn his ship round, and under all the steam he can raise make back for the cove. He’s to get her crossways across the entrance and open his seacocks. If the sub tries to get out he must ram her. We shall already be there, holding her in. If von Schonbeck tries to get out I’ll lay a couple of depth-charges across his bows. The great thing now is speed.’
‘What do I do when the ship sinks under me?’ asked Algy coldly.
‘Swim,’ answered Biggles shortly. ‘But if you have any sense you’ll have a boat ready to take the ship’s company ashore. You should be able to hold the Nazis if they come for you. We’ll do our best to help you. But the first thing is to get the sub bottled up. It’s no use planning beyond that. Afterwards we’ll see how things go.’
‘And if the sub is already at sea?’
‘I’ll plaster her. If you see that happen tell Axel to bring the whaler here.’
‘Okay,’ agreed Algy.
‘Let’s get cracking,’ said Biggles.
CHAPTER XIV
The Pace Quickens
With full tanks, two depth-charges, and the entire party on board, Biggles took off and raced low towards the lastknown position of the whaler. It was still there, so he landed, and after a few words with Axel, outlining the plan and telling him what he wanted him to do, leaving Algy on board he took off again and headed for the submarine’s hiding-place. Fifteen minutes later it came into view, with oil spreading out in a broad fan-shaped stain from the narrow entrance, and from then on the action was swift and fierce.
It was at once evident that the aircraft had arrived just in time — in time, that is, to prevent the U-boat from gaining the open sea, where no doubt it would have submerged and perhaps disappeared for all time. The submarine, with von Schonbeck and several members of the crew on deck, was moving towards the channel at a speed which suggested that he had heard the aircraft coming and was now trying to extricate himself from a position that might well prove desperate. He had in fact almost reached the channel by the time the aircraft was over the scene.
The reception the Tarpon received was much as Biggles expected. No amount of camouflage could help the U-boat now. It could only fight. The crew jumped to their action stations and flak came streaming up. Biggles was ready for it. He promptly took evading action, and diving low dropped his first depth-charge in the channel, partly in the hope of blocking it by a landslide or to cause the U-boat to swerve. Not knowing the depth of the water in the cove, which might turn out to be too deep for salvage operations, he did not attempt to get a direct hit, which he might well have scored. In one respect he was successful. A great spout of water leapt high into the air. As it subsided it piled itself into a mighty wave which struck the U-boat a glancing blow across the bows before half burying her under foam which swept across her deck and carried overboard at least two members of a gun crew.
The effect of this was to throw the U-boat off its course so that for a little while it was in some risk of colliding head-on with the cliff. To save his ship von Schonbeck was forced to continue the turning movement. He made a half-circle, narrowly missing some rocks, so that by the time the manoeuvre was complete the U-boat was stern first to the entrance — a state of affairs which suited Biggles very well, for a start, anyway. All this time flak was coming up, and it continued to come up, so that conditions in the aircraft were far from comfortable. Indeed, as far as Ginger was concerned it looked like being the final showdown. Either the aircraft or the submarine, in service slang, was about to ‘have it.’
But as it turned out the end was not yet, although it was getting close.
Biggles, feeling that he now had the whiphand, sheered off a little to see what von Schonbeck would do. He was too old a hand to take more chances than were demanded.
The Nazi did not keep him waiting. With its propellers creaming the water the U-boat turned again towards the entrance, as if determined at all costs to escape from the trap in which it now found itself. Biggles was equally determined that it should not get out. He waited a little while, turning constantly to spoil the aim of the gunners, and then went down in another steep dive. Von Schonbeck must have known what he intended, but there was nothing he could do about it. He had no room to manoeuvre, for any sort of turn would involve him in a collision with the cliffs guarding the entrance.
Biggles let go his second depth-charge, and this time it looked as if it would hit the U-boat. It nearly did. It burst so close that it half lifted the submarine out of the water, and at the same time threw her on her beam ends with such violence that before she could recover her steel hull had scraped against a projecting shoulder of rock with sufficient force to make her reel again. It was obvious to those in the air that she must have been damaged, and the action her commander took practically confirmed it. The U-boat began to travel hard astern towards the landing beach by the depot.
This Biggles only saw in a fleeting glance, for his attention was now fully occupied with the plane. A shell, one of the last to be fired, had burst under the tail unit, inflicting such damage as to cause it to become almost unmanageable. Indeed, for a minute or two, those on board thought they were quite out of control. Biggles managed to make some sort of recovery, but realising that it was not possible to remain airborne without risk of a serious crash he looked about for a place to get down. He might, of course, have landed on the water, but he felt it was almost certain that his keel had been damaged by shell splinters. Moreover, it would mean landing in the cove, in which case he would become a sitting target for the submarine’s guns. That, obviously, was out of the question. The only flat area round the actual cove was the beach for which the U-boat was making.
That, for equally obvious reasons, was no use. As far as the rest of the island within gliding distance was concerned there was only one reasonable area; this was what appeared to be a slightly undulating expanse of moss that topped the cliff near the entrance and fell back towards the main terrain of the island. It was on this that Biggles decided to put the aircraft down, so lowering his wheels he put the plan into execution. The aircraft bumped, bounced, bounced again, and then, dragging in the moss and squelching water under its wheels, it ran on to a groggy landing, to finish one wing down due to the wheel on that side sinking deep into the moss. A stream of machine-gun bullets whistling past the tip of the exposed wing made it abundantly clear that the airmen were not yet out of danger, although fortunately a long, low fold in the ground near the rim of the cliff protected the lower part of the aircraft, including most of the hull.
‘Outside, everybody,’ snapped Biggles. ‘Keep your heads down.’
Those in the machine jumped clear and dived for cover. A few more bullets came whizzing over, then an uneasy silence fell. With brackish peat water oozing through the moss under his we
ight, Biggles crawled to the top of the rising ground, and peeping over saw the U-boat, apparently beached, near the depot. Not a soul was in sight, so after watching for a little while he dropped back to the others.
‘We’ve given von Schonbeck something to think about, anyway,’ he announced, with satisfaction in his voice. ‘All the same, we’re not sitting very pretty ourselves. In fact, we seem to have arrived at a state of stalemate. The sub is damaged, no doubt of that, but how badly we don’t know. Unfortunately we’re on the carpet ourselves so there’s nothing more we can do. What I mean is, if von Schonbeck decides that his damage isn’t serious, and tries to rush the entrance, we’ve no means of stopping him. Our big chance is, right now, to block the entrance with the whaler and seal the submarine in before von Schonbeck can get moving again. The whaler isn’t due yet, but she must be getting close. The next two hours ought to settle things one way or another.’
‘In the meantime, old boy, what do we do?’ demanded Bertie.
‘First of all we’ll have a look at the machine to see how bad the damage is,’ answered Biggles. ‘If we can’t get her off again we’re going to have an awful long walk home. If you like, Bertie, you can take a rifle and try sniping anybody you see moving about the sub, but they’re either inside or else they’ve taken cover in one of the huts. Keep watch, but don’t get sniped yourself.’
‘Not me — no bally fear,’ declared Bertie, going off to fetch the rifle.
Biggles and Ginger examined the machine. The damage was serious but not vital. Elevator controls had been cut and there were some nasty holes through the tailplanes, fin and rudder; but there was nothing that could not be repaired, temporarily, given time.
Biggles decided to start work right away.
From time to time Bertie, from his selected position, passed back information. ‘I think the blighters are inside their beastly sardine can,’ he called. ‘I can hear ‘em banging about. Straightening things out, and so on. There’s a lot of oil round her.’
‘I should say von Schonbeck is doing some quick patching up with a view to getting out before we hit him again,’ said Biggles. ‘He must have seen us go down. He may think he has plenty of time. Our trump card, the whaler, will shake him when it turns up and sinks itself in the entrance of his bolthole. Keep an eye open for the ship, Bertie, and let me know when she turns up.’
Biggles and Ginger carried on with their work. Time wore on without any new development. A feeble sun, blinking mistily through the clouds, climbed over its zenith and began to sink towards the west.
‘The tide’s coming in. I believe it’s floated the sub off the beach,’ called Bertie.
A quarter of an hour later he spoke again. ‘She’s started her engines. She’s moving.’
Biggles frowned. ‘I shall be sick if she manages to slip out after all,’ he muttered to Ginger.
‘Is there nothing we can do stop her?’
‘Not a thing,’ returned Biggles. ‘If the whaler doesn’t turn up we’re helpless — anyway, until we can get back to base for more depth-charges.’
‘Here they come!’ shouted Bertie. His rifle cracked, and cracked again.
The bang of a gun and the scream of a shell made Ginger jump. ‘What goes on?’ called Biggles.
‘It’s the whaler!’ yelled Bertie. ‘She’s nosing into the entrance — didn’t see her before — bally cliff was in the way. Jolly good show.’
Biggles and Ginger dropped what they were doing and, crouching low, ran to the top of the rise. Biggles took one look and snapped: ‘Get another rifle, Ginger.’
A three-sided battle, if battle it can be called, now developed. The U-boat directed its fire against the whaler, whose purpose by this time must have been apparent. A machine-gunner, from behind a steel shield, directed his fire along the top of the cliff to protect the submarine’s gun crews at whom Biggles and Bertie were sniping. This state of affairs, however, did not last long, one reason being that the whaler was now in the channel, and it was evident that should a collision occur between the whaler and the U-boat, the latter would get the worst of the deal. The submarine stopped, and then began to back towards the beach she had just left. Its guns continued firing and the whaler came in for a good deal of punishment.
‘They’ve done their stuff,’ said Biggles suddenly. ‘Axel has opened his seacocks. The whaler’s settling down. Von Schonbeck must realise it. He knows it’s all up. At least, he knows he’ll never get out of that cove without a lot of high explosive to shift our block-ship. I can see Algy. They’re lowering a boat — about time, too. Not seeing the machine Algy will wonder what has happened to us. We’d better let him know where we are so that he can join us.’ Dropping back and crouching low to keep out of sight of those on the U-boat, Biggles ran along the top of the cliff to a point immediately above the whaler.
Then, by shouting, he made contact.
It was half an hour before the crew of the whaler joined those on the cliff, for as they were unable to scale the cliff with two wounded men the boat had to be taken to a beach outside the entrance and a landing effected there. However, at the end, the two parties were united on the cliff near the aircraft.
Algy arrived smiling. ‘We’ve put the cork in the bottle,’ he announced. ‘Von Schonbeck is inside for keeps.’
‘He’s inside for some time, anyway,’ agreed Biggles. ‘But I wouldn’t bet too much on keeping him there indefinitely. He’s a cunning devil.’ Briefly he explained how the aircraft came to be grounded.
‘What’s the next move, then?’ asked Algy.
‘I haven’t decided yet,’ answered Biggles. He glanced at the sky. ‘It’s getting dark. We look like being here for the night. Von Schonbeck may not be content to leave us here though, covering the submarine, and the entrance to the channel, as we do; so we’d better get into some sort of position for defence.’ Biggles broke off and thought for a moment. ‘I think the time has come to let Raymond know how things stand,’ he continued. ‘With the U-boat immobilised, von Schonbeck could do nothing even if he picked up the signal. Yes, I think that’s the best thing. I shall have to remain here to see what happens. The machine should fly all right now, although it wouldn’t do to chuck it about. I’ll tell you what, Algy. Take Bertie and the wounded Norwegians with you and push along to the base. Make radio contact with Raymond. Tell him the story and how we’re fixed. Ask him for instructions, or, alternatively, ask him to do something about it. Daylight should last just about long enough to see you home. In the morning you’d better come back here to let me know what Raymond says. Meanwhile, the rest of us will stay here and keep an eye on things. Von Schonbeck may try something. A Nazi of his type isn’t finished until he’s dead.’
‘Okay,’ agreed Algy. ‘You’re sure the machine’s all right?’
‘She’ll fly, and your engines are okay, but you may find her a bit groggy on rudder control.’
Algy nodded, and moved quickly to carry out his instructions, for the light was fast fading. The wounded Norwegians were lifted into the machine. Bertie followed.
‘Don’t let that blighter do us out of the gold,’ he adjured Biggles. ‘I’ve always wanted a nice big piece of gold to play with.’
‘I’ll watch it,’ promised Biggles smiling.
With no small anxiety those who were to stay watched the machine take off and disappear into the northern sky. No flak came up. In the vicinity of the submarine all remained quiet. The only sounds were the murmur of the eternal waves fretting along the shore, and the plaintive cries of the gulls.
‘Tomorrow, I think, should see the showdown,’ opined Biggles.
CHAPTER XV
The Clock That Ticked Again
Dawn broke dull and drear, with a suspicion of frost and a threat of snow in the air. It found the little party on the cliff chattering with cold, and, with the exception of Biggles, who appeared oblivious to weather conditions, with small enthusiasm for the work ahead. Even Axel, who was on watch, glowered into the thin grey mi
st that enveloped them, reducing visibility to a hundred yards so that the submarine could not be seen, although its position could, with fair accuracy, be judged. No sound came from the U-boat. In fact, it was a long time since any sound had been heard, apart from the lap of water against rock.
Ginger spoke. His face was pale and nipped from the penetrating cold. ‘I wish this infernal mist would lift,’ he muttered. ‘Algy will never risk flying in this stuff.’
‘The trouble is, at this time of the year it may go on for days,’ answered Biggles. ‘We’ve got to be prepared for that. On the other hand it may blow away. It only needs a slant of wind to shift it, and wind is a common commodity in these parts.’
‘What the dickens are we going to do?’ asked Ginger. ‘If we go on sitting here I’m liable to die of starvation — if I don’t freeze to death first.’
‘I’ve no intention of staying here,’ returned Biggles. ‘That silence across the cove isn’t natural. Von Schonbeck should be doing something. Dash it, he must be doing something. But what? I’m going to find out.’
Ginger’s eyebrows went up. “You mean, you’re going to have a crack at him?’
‘Not necessarily,’ answered Biggles. ‘But if this fog doesn’t clear in an hour I’m going to make a reconnaissance of the beach to find out what is going on there.’
‘Alone?’
Biggles considered the question. ‘No,’ he decided. ‘In this sort of weather I’m all against breaking up my force while it can be kept intact. There are nine of us all told, and with pistols and rifles we’re pretty well armed. Just how many men von Schonbeck has available we don’t know, but he hasn’t as many as he had. We’ve whittled them down a bit. Assuming that he started with twenty he can’t have more than ten or a dozen left. Of course, they’re better equipped than we are because they’ve got machine-guns, but even so I think we ought to be able to put up a fair show if it comes to a scrap.’