Biggles - Air Commodore

by W E Johns

  At the head of the companionway they met Lovell, who seemed to be labouring under a high degree of excitement. ‘I was just coming to fetch you,’ he exclaimed. ‘Come and take a look at this.’

  The others followed him quickly to where a hatch, with its cover thrown aside, lay like a square of black linoleum on the deck.

  ‘Cast your eyes down there,’ he invited them with a peculiar expression on his face, as a torch flashed in his hand, the beam probing the depths of the hold.

  Biggles looked, and Ginger, taking a pace forward, looked too. At first he could not make out what it was upon which the yellow rays of the torch flashed so brightly; there seemed to be four long steel tubes, about a foot in diameter. His eyes followed them along to the end, and he saw that each terminated in a point.

  ‘Torpedoes,’ said Biggles, in a funny sort of whisper.

  ‘Yes, they’re “mouldies” all right,’ grinned Lovell. ‘There are also some cases of small-arms ammunition in the forward hold, and some shells, large ones and small ones that look like anti-aircraft tackle.’

  Biggles glanced up to where the crew of the junk were huddled in the bows under the watchful eyes of the sailors. ‘I think we had better get those beauties below and batten them down,’ he suggested. ‘You remain here with your fellows while I go back and have a word with Sullivan about this.’

  Twenty minutes later he was telling the commander of the destroyer the result of the raid and what had been found on the junk. The documents from the safe, still unexamined, lay on the table.

  When he had finished Sullivan rubbed his chin reflectively. His face was grave. ‘We’re sailing in tricky waters, Bigglesworth, and no mistake,’ he said anxiously. ‘Goodness knows what might not happen if we make a blunder. I don’t want to go down to posterity as the man who plunged the world into a war of destruction, and it might be as bad as that if we slip up. But there, you’re in charge. It’s up to you to decide on a course of action, and to that I have only one thing to add. You can rely on me to stand by you to the bitter end.’

  ‘Thanks, Sullivan,’ answered Biggles simply. ‘I know how you feel about the frightful responsibility of this thing. In the ordinary way a matter as serious as this would be reported to the Admiralty and probably to the Cabinet. It’s their pigeon really, but we simply haven’t time to work through those channels. Finding those “mouldies” tells us what we want to know. These enemy operations are no myth. They’re a fact, and we’re within a few miles of the headquarters of the organization. I said I’d find it and blot it out, and those are the lines on which I’m going to proceed regardless of what the result may be. But first of all we’ve got to dispose of this junk and its crew. Obviously we can’t let them go loose or the fat would be in the fire before we could say Jack Robinson. Frankly, as far as I can see there’s only one thing we can do with them.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Set them ashore here on this island. Maroon them. Without a boat they wouldn’t be able to leave until some one picked them up, by which time we should either have finished the job or be where it wouldn’t matter much whether it was finished or not.’

  ‘And the junk?’

  ‘Bring one of the torpedoes aboard the Seafret for evidence in case it is ever needed, and then scuttle her.’

  Sullivan nodded. ‘Yes, I think that’s the best way,’ he agreed.

  ‘Then you’d better send a message to Lovell to ask him to bring the junk along. It’s easier to do that than for us to go round to her because it means moving the aircraft as well. Now let’s see what we’ve got here.’ He turned to the papers still lying on the table, and gave an exclamation of disgust when he saw that they were all penned in Oriental characters.

  ‘Any of your fellows able to read this stuff?’ he asked Sullivan.

  The naval officer shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘That’s an expert’s job, and a sailor who could do it wouldn’t be serving in a destroyer.’

  ‘Pity. You’d better put them in your safe, then, for the time being. I wonder if this will tell us anything.’ He picked up a chart that the Chief Petty Officer had brought over with the other papers. ‘Aha! Aha! What’s this?’ he went on quickly, pointing to a number of fine pencil lines that converged on a point amid a group of islands that he recognized instantly as part of the Mergui Archipelago. Indeed, he had looked at the same section of the globe so often of late that he could have drawn a chart from memory. He looked at Sullivan with eyes that held a sparkle of triumph. ‘So it’s Elephant Island,’ he said quietly.

  ‘Looks like it,’ agreed the other. ‘That’s all we want to know, isn’t it?’

  ‘It would be, if we were quite sure,’ answered Biggles cautiously. ‘Unfortunately we daren’t take anything for granted in this affair. After all, for all we know, this point—’ he laid his forefinger on the chart—‘might merely be a sub-depot at which the skipper of the junk had been ordered to deliver his goods. We mustn’t overlook that.’

  ‘By jingo, yes. I’m afraid I had overlooked that possibility,’ confessed Sullivan, ‘That means —’

  ‘It means that before we dare strike we’ve got to confirm that Elephant Island is, in fact, the base we are looking for.’

  ‘How do you propose to do that?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ answered Biggles frankly. ‘I shall have to think about it. How far are we away from the place—forty miles?’

  ‘Nearer thirty, I should say at a rough guess.’

  ‘That’s plenty close enough to be healthy,’ declared Biggles. ‘I’ll think things over for a little while. Perhaps it would be better to sleep on it and have another conference in the morning. Meanwhile, let’s get this business of the junk settled.’

  ‘Right you are,’ agreed Sullivan. ‘Just a minute, though,’ he went on quickly, as Biggles turned away. ‘There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you, but what with one thing and another I haven’t had a chance. What about that seaplane? Did you find anything of importance?’

  Biggles nodded. ‘I know who made the aircraft,’ he said softly, giving the naval officer a queer look. He leaned forward and whispered something in his ear.

  ‘Was there nothing on the pilot?’ asked Sullivan.

  ‘There wasn’t any pilot,’ replied Biggles grimly. ‘The crocs —or a panther—got to him first.’

  Chapter 10

  A Risky Plan

  The pink of dawn was fast turning to azure the following morning as, watched by the three airmen and the entire ship’s company, the junk sank slowly out of sight beneath the limpid blue waters of the bay, carrying with her the body of her dead captain, which had seemed the most befitting burial they could give him.

  As the mainmast disappeared from view Biggles turned his eyes towards the island on which the crew had been put ashore, but not a soul was in sight. ‘You gave them plenty of stores, I suppose?’ he asked, looking at Sullivan.

  ‘Ample,’ was the brief reply.

  ‘Good! Then that’s that,’ observed Biggles, turning away from the rail.

  ‘Have you decided what you are going to do?’ inquired the naval officer.

  Biggles nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘but to tell you the truth, I am not absolutely convinced that it is the right thing. It’s rather a tricky problem, whichever way you look at it. As I see it, there are two courses open to us in this matter of getting confirmation that Elephant Island is the place we’re looking for. I think you’ll agree that we must do that before taking any action. I mean, it would be a dickens of a mess if we went and blew up a friendly village, or a bunch of innocent Salones, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘It certainly would,’ agreed Sullivan.

  ‘Very well, then. We’re agreed that we’ve got to have a look at this place. There are two ways in which we can do it. One is to fly over it, and the other is to tackle it from ground level. At first glance the flying method might strike you as being far and away the easier, the same as it did me; but is it? If our friends know we’
re about, and I have an inkling that they do, they’ll be watching the sky, that’s certain. At the worst they might shoot us down, for while I am not without experience in the business of air combat, I don’t feel in the least inclined to take on a bunch of single-seater fighters—or even one, if it comes to that—in an amphibian which, while it may be a good ship for our job, was never designed for fast combat work. Even one fast interceptor, flown by a determined pilot, could make things thundering uncomfortable for us; I’ve no delusions about that. Even if they didn’t succeed in shooting us down they would know from the very fact that we were flying over their hide-out that we had spotted it, in which case they would either abandon the place forthwith and start again somewhere else, or else clean things up to such an extent that we should have no apparent justification for tackling them. You see what I mean?’

  The others nodded.

  ‘On the other hand,’ continued Biggles, ‘if, by scouting on foot, I could prove beyond all possible doubt that Elephant Island is the nest from which our ships have been sunk, the immediate result would be quite different. They would not know they had been spotted, and we should catch them red-handed, as it were. If their suspicions have been aroused they’ll be far less likely to expect us to land on the island than choose the more obvious course of flying over it, or sailing round it in a ship.’

  ‘I’m not anxious to sail my ship round it,’ declared Sullivan emphatically.

  ‘You’d be a fool if you did, and deserve what you’d probably get,’ Biggles assured him. ‘That’s why I vote for the “on foot” method, although, coming from a pilot, that may strike you as odd. In my experience, though, the unorthodox, the unexpected, is always preferable to the obvious.’

  ‘It seems to be asking for trouble, to land on the very island that the enemy have made their perishing headquarters,’ murmured Algy doubtfully.

  ‘I suppose it is,’ agreed Biggles, ‘but then so is anything else that we could do. And, anyway, we expected that we should have to take risks when we started, didn’t we? In fact, whenever a job has been offered us that involved no risk, you’ve usually been the first to turn your nose up. But we’re wasting time. I’m going to Elephant Island.’

  ‘What, alone?’

  ‘No, I’m taking Ginger with me.’

  ‘And what about me?’ asked Algy.

  ‘Oh, there’ll be a job for you, don’t you worry,’ Biggles told him. ‘Now listen; I’ve given a good deal of thought to this proposition and this is my idea. We lie low here until it gets dark, when, provided the weather remains fine, the Seafret will take us—that is, the Nemesis—in tow to Hastings Island. We shall then be a lot nearer to Elephant Island than we are here. According to Sailing Directions, which I have looked up, there is a lagoon with a good anchorage at the eastern end of Hastings Island that should suit us very well as a temporary base. It’s rather close to the enemy, I know, and it would be out of the question for a prolonged stay, but I’m hoping that we shan’t be there many hours. Anyway, it wouldn’t do for the Seafret to drift about on the open sea, or the next thing will be a torpedo in her ribs.’ Biggles glanced at Sullivan, who nodded agreement.

  ‘I hadn’t overlooked the possibility of that,’ he observed drily.

  ‘All right, then,’ continued Biggles. ‘Now somebody has got to stay with the Nemesis. That’s definite. I’m going ashore, so it will have to be you, Algy. The next move will be made as soon as it gets dark, when the Seafret will steam slowly to within a mile or two of the south-east corner of Elephant Island, where she will lower a dinghy in which Ginger and I will row ashore. If you look at the chart you will notice that just off that particular piece of coast there are a number of small islets, bare rocks for the most part, I fancy. Some of them almost touch the main island. We—that is, Ginger and I—will make for those islets and find a good hiding-place. Having settled that, Ginger will then put me ashore, and afterwards return to the hiding-place, where he will lie doggo until he gets my signal to come and fetch me. You get the idea? We daren’t risk leaving the boat on the actual beach of the main island in case any one happens to come along. By parking it behind one of the islets it will be out of sight. Naturally, the Seafret will return to Hastings Island as soon as she has dropped Ginger and me in the dinghy. So the position will be this. I shall be ashore, scouting. Ginger will be with the dinghy hiding behind the islet waiting to pick me up. You, Algy, will be at Hastings Island with the Nemesis, where the Seafret will rejoin you as soon as she can.’

  ‘And after that?’ asked Algy.

  ‘As soon as I discover what I hope to discover,’ went on Biggles, ‘I shall return to the beach and whistle for Ginger to pick me up, whereupon we return to the hiding-place behind the islet and remain there all day. As soon as it gets dark, and, before the moon rises, the Seafret will come back and pick us both up.’

  ‘But wait a minute,’ cried Algy. ‘I don’t get the hang of this. Why not let the Seafret dump us all ashore and stand by until we’ve finished the job? It can then pick us up again and the whole thing will be over in one go.’

  Biggles lit a cigarette. ‘I expected you’d suggest that,’ he murmured. ‘Admittedly, at first glance there seems much to recommend that plan, but if you examine it closely you’ll see that there are certain difficulties. In the first place, there is a time factor, and it is very important. The Seafret can only approach Elephant Island while there is no moon; it would be absolutely fatal for her to be within five miles of the place after that. You know what tropical moonlight is like as well as I do—we might as well go in daylight. Anyone on the island would only have to look out to sea to spot her. I don’t think I could possibly hope to explore the island and get back to the boat in sufficient time to enable the Seafret to get over the horizon before moonrise.’

  ‘Why not let her hide amongst those islets you’ve spoken about?’

  Biggles frowned. ‘Be reasonable, my dear fellow,’ he said. ‘It would take more nerve than I’ve got to ask Sullivan to take his ship amongst a maze of strange rocks and reefs, many no doubt uncharted, in the pitch dark. The Seafret would probably rip her bottom off inside five minutes, and that would just about put the tin hat on everything. I’ve taken all that into account, and that’s why I’m of opinion that the plan I have outlined is the best. Besides, Ginger and I in a little boat would make a very mobile unit, able to dodge about anywhere with very little risk of being seen.’

  ‘Then there’s nothing I can do?’ asked Algy.

  ‘I’m coming to that,’ answered Biggles. ‘Now if we—that is, Ginger and I—do our job, and the Seafret picks us up as per schedule, all so well and good. The Nemesis won’t be needed for the moment. But suppose something goes wrong. Suppose I got delayed on the island for some reason or other. If the worst came to the worst you’d have to fly over and look for me. Naturally, if I was free to do so I should make for a place where you could get the machine down. I couldn’t ask Sullivan to charge round the island looking for me, but at a pinch you could do that, although you’d be taking a tidy risk. It would be a case where you would have to use your initiative and act for the best, but I must say it would be a big consolation to me to know that if for any reason I couldn’t get back to the boat, there was a second string to our fiddle in the shape of the Nemesis.’

  ‘Yes, I see that,’ admitted Algy; ‘but I can’t help feeling that there are a lot of loose joints in this scheme.’

  ‘I know; that’s why I’m not infatuated with it myself,’ confessed Biggles. ‘But it’s the best plan I can think of. We’ve got to know what’s happening on Elephant Island, and we’ve got to know pretty soon. It won’t be long before the enemy will be wondering what has happened to the junk, which presumably was a supply ship, and while I don’t think it’s likely, there is always a risk of one of those men we put ashore getting down to Elephant Island and spilling the beans good and proper—as they say on the films.’

  ‘But how could he do that?’

  ‘T
hey might make a raft, or a dug-out canoe.’

  ‘Then why did you turn them loose?’

  ‘What else could we do with them? Had I been a hard-baked pirate I could have bumped the whole lot off, shot them, hung them, or sent them to Davy Jones in the hold of their junk; but wholesale murder isn’t in our line, not even though we are virtually at war. There were too many of them to keep as prisoners on the Seafret.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose you’re right,’ agreed Algy doubtfully. ‘When is this programme due to start?’

  ‘This evening, as soon as it’s dark. As we’re so close to the enemy’s stronghold we should be crazy to start cruising about either on the water or in the air in broad daylight.’

  ‘And suppose Elephant Island is the enemy stronghold, what then?’ asked Ginger.

  ‘Let’s do one thing at a time,’ suggested Biggles. ‘It’s always sound policy.’

  Chapter 11

  Horrors from the Deep

  When Biggles and Ginger set out the following evening in accordance with the carefully considered plan of campaign, Biggles—although he did not say so—felt that the end of the affair might well be in sight, and he derived some relief from the thought, for both the importance of his task and the magnitude of his responsibilities weighed heavily upon him, and filled him with an unusual nervousness concerning the issue. The reason may have been that, whereas most of his adventures hitherto had been of a personal nature, the present one involved considerations so momentous that they appalled him. A single indiscretion might, he knew, embarrass the leaders of the Empire at a singularly inopportune time, and failure at the crucial moment would almost certainly precipitate a world war.