Biggles and the Leopards of Zinn

by W E Johns

  ‘Good enough.’ Ginger went on: ‘What were you circling over just after you’d taken off?’

  Biggles helped himself to a cup of water. ‘You remember that hole Grandpa showed us this morning?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘It was another one of those I was looking at. There are several dotted about the landscape. They show up clearly—as if someone had been making holes for a post and rail fence. But where’s Grandpa now?’

  ‘There he is. Peeping out of the bungalow.’

  ‘Tell me what happened here.’

  Ginger told his story, starting with the explosions that he had gone down the lake to investigate, and ending with the arrival of the strangers at the rest-house demanding Grandpa.

  ‘This begins to look ugly,’ said Biggles, thoughtfully. ‘These people must be looking for something. It might be anything so it’s no use trying to guess what it is. If it isn’t that then someone is deliberately trying to unsettle the Zinns and so cause trouble. The same sort of thing is going on all over Africa. Well, if I catch them at it here they’ll get no change out of me. I hate these smart-alecs who go about doing nothing but harm.’

  Bertie chipped in. ‘It’s a thundering shame people can’t be left alone to live as they like and do what they like. From what we’ve been told these Zinns have always been a decent enough folk. After all, they don’t ask much from life—a few miserable fish. I’ll bet that stinking witch-doctor who came here is behind the trouble. He’d find a way of making the Zinns do what he wants them to. Why do these coloured people put up with this superstitious skulduggery?’

  Biggles smiled cynically. ‘For the same reason that a good many white people are slaves to superstition. It’s been in their bones for thousands of years and they can’t get rid of it. It’s bad luck they say, to do this or that. You see people who have spilt the salt throw a pinch over their shoulder. Others won’t sit down thirteen to a meal. Some throw up their hands in alarm if they see a new moon through glass. Don’t ask me why. Even a tough ship’s captain will jib at sailing on a Friday the thirteenth—and so on. At home fortune-tellers still do a brisk business. Bunk. Sheer unadulterated superstition. If people who call themselves civilized can behave like that who are we to criticize backward races?’

  ‘Absolutely, old boy,’ confirmed Bertie. ‘I couldn’t agree more. I once read that Julius Caesar used to consult the oracle before he did anything, but that didn’t save him from having daggers slipped into his ribs. An iron shirt would have done him more good than all the bally soothsayers—if you get my meaning.’

  ‘Never mind superstition, let’s get down to facts,’ said Ginger, impatiently. ‘Did the safari that brought Sergeant Abdullah here know he had been murdered?’

  ‘No. When I told them they looked as if they’d been stricken with paralysis—that is, all except Charlie, which was one of the reasons why I cottoned on to him. There were seven of ‘em apart from him, all coloured men, of course; an Askari corporal with two others and four bearers. They told me they stayed the night at the rest-house. Nothing happened, so in the morning the sergeant told them, as there was nothing for them to do, they might as well get back to Nabula. They started right away, and had been on the march for three days when I overtook them crossing some open country. I asked if anyone would come back with me to the lake and the first man to volunteer was Charlie. As his heart seemed to be in the right place I brought him. I gave the corporal an account of what we had found here, with Abdullah’s identity disc. I also wrote a short note to the R.M. telling him that I intended to investigate and had borrowed Charlie primarily to act as interpreter with the Zinns when I located them. It didn’t seem worth while using precious petrol going on to Nabula myself. That’s all.’

  ‘And now what are you going to do?’ asked Ginger.

  ‘I shall go down the lake and ask these bomb-throwers who they are, where they’ve come from, and what they’re doing here. I don’t feel like wasting time on long-distance spying. But for a start we’ll get Charlie to have a word with Grandpa, who I’m hoping will be able to tell us something. What’s he doing in the rest-house?’

  ‘He shot in like a scalded cat when those men appeared.’

  ‘That means he was scared of them.’

  ‘That was obvious. He wouldn’t come out while they were here.’

  ‘What did the fellow in charge of this party look like?’

  Ginger described him: ‘He wasn’t British—at all events not British born. He spoke English with an accent but I couldn’t place it. Not a bad-looking chap. He certainly wasn’t a hundred per cent white. He looked half Indian, or maybe Arab, to me.’

  ‘Okay. I’ll be seeing him myself presently. Fetch Grandpa and let’s hear what he has to say.’

  The old native was brought out. He looked thoroughly frightened, his little eyes glancing furtively up and down the beach. In fact, it was evident that his whole manner had changed in the last hour or two. Far from being garrulous he was now subdued, and it was some time before Charlie could get anything out of him.

  At the finish, the total sum of the information obtained was this: two white men had arrived at the village from the west (indicated by pointing) with some black men and a powerful witch-doctor. These were of an unknown tribe. They killed many fish by making a great noise. They gave the fish to the Zinns, who, in return, were made to dig holes in the ground. Then the white men wanted to go to a different place. The Zinns didn’t want to leave their village, but they had to go because at night the witch-doctor called up leopards from the forest to kill and eat them. He, Grandpa, had refused to go, and had run away to hide in the forest. When the strangers had gone, with all the people, he had returned to the village.

  This, translated from Grandpa’s native idiom into Charlie’s halting English, spoken in the high-pitched, sing-song voice so common with coloured Africans, took some time, and really did not convey much news that was not already known or surmised. But, as Biggles said, the picture of what was happening was beginning to take shape. That the strangers were engaged in a search for something, using the Zinns, was clear, but for what they were seeking there was still no indication. The only other factor to emerge was, at the talk of the witch-doctor and leopards, Charlie looked nearly as scared as Grandpa. His eyes rolled.

  ‘This terror of black magic mumbo-jumbo is in their blood. They can’t help it,’ said Biggles, sympathetically.

  ‘The question is, what can we do about it?’ murmured Bertie, breathing on his eye-glass and polishing it.

  ‘You won’t cure the mumbo-jumbo stuff, if that’s what you mean.’

  ‘How about tossing this witch-doctor exponent to the crocs to see if his magic works with them?’

  ‘It’s no joking matter,’ returned Biggles, moodily. ‘We have no authority to take the law into our own hands and throw these confounded invaders out, even if we were able to do that. I suppose what we should do is to report what we know, or suspect, and leave it to a higher authority to straighten things out. The only thing about that is, they’d say we should have found out exactly what was going on here. That was why we were sent. Until the facts are known definitely the government will be loath to take action for fear of making matters worse. You know how it is. Actually, I foresaw this situation; but the chief was chary of giving me firm orders to act on my own account. That, of course, is what he, or the Colonial Office, would like me to do, because then, if there was serious trouble, they could disclaim any responsibility. In other words, if things went wrong, we should be left to take the rap.’

  ‘But these perishing intruders have already brought hostility into our camp,’ argued Bertie. ‘If Ginger hadn’t turned up when he did I might have been shot. Surely we have a right to defend ourselves?’

  ‘Not to the extent that would warrant us declaring war on them.’

  ‘How about the murders here?’

  ‘We can’t prove they were murders.’

  Ginger stepped in. ‘You should ha
ve seen the way that fellow behaved this morning,’ he said hotly. ‘We were within an inch of shooting it out. They would have taken Grandpa by force if we hadn’t prevented it. They’ll get him yet if they can. They’re afraid he’ll talk.’

  Biggles lit a cigarette and pondered the problem. ‘I’ve reach the age when I don’t go looking for trouble, but as I see it there’s only one thing we can do to get to the bottom of this, and that is go down and see what these people are doing. Find out what it is they’re after.’

  ‘They’re not likely to tell you,’ contended Algy, sarcastically. ‘Nor are they likely to continue operations while they know we’re here watching them. Their main concern now will be to get us out of the way so that they can carry on. They’ll be after Grandpa’s blood, too, for fear he talks.’

  ‘I shall go and ask them point-blank what they’re doing here,’ decided Biggles. ‘If their business is straightforward...’

  ‘It isn’t. That’s pretty evident.’

  Then let us say, if it was straightforward in the first instance they should have papers to prove it. They may hold prospectors’ licences, in which case they’d be in order in digging up the whole landscape if they felt like it.’

  ‘Oh come off it; let’s not fool ourselves by trying to find excuses for them,’ said Algy, impatiently. ‘They’ve no business here. The way they behaved this morning, barging into our camp as they did, is proof of that. They don’t want anyone here. They’ve got the wretched Zinns where they want them by importing this leopard wizardry. Whatever it is they’re after must be valuable since they’re prepared to commit murder to get it.’

  ‘I’ve told you before, we’ve no proof...’

  ‘I know. We can’t prove the deaths here were murders.’

  ‘All the evidence points to death by leopards. Don’t forget we’ve shot one ourselves. From the way it came for me it might well have been a man-eater.’

  ‘Rot! That beast had been wounded, and in the state it was in would have attacked anybody. You don’t seriously believe the deaths here were caused by leopards?’

  ‘Of course I don’t. That we ourselves were attacked by one was pure coincidence. But I’m considering, if we started a first-class row, how it would look to other people. The natives know the truth, of course, but you won’t get one of them to give evidence against that witch-doctor because it would be tantamount to suicide. The fellow would die of fright if nothing else.’

  ‘We might discredit him.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The witch-doctor.’

  ‘You’d have a job to do that.’

  ‘But listen here, old boy,’ broke in Bertie. ‘Don’t say we’re going to be stumped by a bally trickster. He doesn’t scare me, no jolly fear. I’m all against seeing these wretched Zinns given the run-around by a sharper armed with a few old bones and what have you.’

  ‘Wait a minute,’ protested Biggles. ‘I haven’t said anything about going home, have I? I’ve been trying to think out the best way to go to work without causing trouble for anyone. What would you do?’

  ‘As you said. Go down and have it out with ‘em, and then wait for ‘em to show their hand.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘They’ll try to do to us, or Grandpa, what they’ve done to other people here.’

  ‘Are you suggesting they’d try to bump off all four of us?’

  They might try it, one at a time. They’ll certainly try to get Grandpa, and Charlie when they know he’s here to act as an interpreter.’

  Ginger gave his views. ‘I say we owe some protection to the Zinns who were as right as rain until this bunch of blackguards interfered with them.’

  ‘They’re providing them with plenty of fish.’

  ‘Fish! Pah! If they’re using them to dig holes they can’t let them starve.’

  ‘All right,’ agreed Biggles. ‘That’s enough. It’s too late to do anything today but tomorrow morning we’ll go down the lake and ask a few questions. In a couple of days the R.M. should have got my note telling him what I suspect. He may take some action. Meanwhile the enemy may try to pull a trick—get Grandpa, for instance. I’d rather they kicked off.’

  ‘You really think they may try to grab Grandpa?’ queried Ginger.

  ‘It wouldn’t surprise me. The poor old man doesn’t realize it but he’s evidently regarded as an important pawn in this dirty business, presumably because he knows more than is good for him. Anyway, we’d better keep our eyes skinned, particularly after dark. The leopard we shot may not be the only one about. Now let’s see about something to eat.’

  * * *

  1 King’s African Rifles.

  CHAPTER 8

  THE NIGHT WATCH

  For the remainder of the day all was quiet. The hippos made rings well out in the lake. Long-legged birds stood or walked up and down in the shallows. A few crocodiles crawled out of the water and lay on the bank, but none as large as the one Biggles had shot. Grandpa sat with his back to the wall of the compound watching Charlie, who found odd jobs to do, tidying up, collecting firewood and the like. No more bombing was heard. No one from the far end of the lake was seen. The Gadfly’s tanks were topped up from the extra fuel and the cans discarded—all this while strict watch was kept, but, as Ginger remarked, they might have had the lake to themselves.

  At length the sun sank into the horizon, bringing a welcome relief after the heat of the day, and after a brief equatorial twilight the curtain of night was drawn across the land.

  After supper Grandpa and Charlie retired into the compound and for the others began the wearisome business of night watches. As it was their turn Biggles and Algy took the first spell, and when in due course Ginger and Bertie were roused from their beds to take over, there was nothing to report except that the mosquitoes seemed particularly voracious, wherefore Ginger and Bertie anointed themselves thoroughly with insect repellent before going on duty. When they went out they found the glowing African moon well past its zenith, but still giving enough light to flood the lonely scene with its pale serenity.

  After a brief discussion they took up their positions, Bertie near the door of the bungalow, which had been left open to permit the entrance of the cool night air. He found an empty petrol can for a seat. From this position it would be impossible for anyone to approach the verandah, or the aircraft, without being seen. To guard the aircraft was vital. It was their only link with civilization. The enemy, Biggles reasoned, would know that, and might attempt to interfere with it, so he insisted that it should not be left for a moment. Bertie sat with the Express rifle, loaded, across his knees.

  There had been some talk of calling on Charlie to take a turn at guard, but Biggles had dismissed the idea, saying that whereas in the ordinary way he would be prepared to trust the man, in the present peculiar circumstances, in which the superstitious fear of a witchdoctor was involved, it might be asking too much to expect the man to keep his nerve in the darkness that would follow the setting of the moon.

  Ginger, also using an empty petrol can for a seat, chose a position a little farther along, near the open entrance to the compound which no one would then be able to enter without being seen, and giving a fair view of the open ground along the edge of the lake in the direction of the abandoned Zinn village. For a weapon, in case one should be needed, he had taken the ten-bore shotgun, its wide spread of shot making it ideal for close work in a bad light. He was not more than twenty yards from Bertie, and therefore in close touch should trouble occur. He could in fact just discern Bertie’s silhouette, although as he himself sat with his back to the high brushwood fence, a dark background, he thought it unlikely that Bertie would be able to see him. However, they were well within call of each other.

  The important factor about double guards, as any soldier who has been on active service knows, is the moral support each gives to the other. To anyone who has never undertaken such duties a night guard may seem a simple operation. It is never that. In dangerous or hostile country it is alwa
ys a period of strain. Tough and experienced though the guard may be, nerves inevitably become tightened in a manner that does not occur in broad daylight. Perhaps this fear of what darkness may hold is something we have inherited from our remote ancestors. However, there it is, and sounds, however slight, which would mean nothing, or even pass unnoticed, in broad daylight, take on a sinister quality.

  Inanimate objects, too, have a strange way of moving, of altering their shape, of appearing and disappearing. A flower or seedhead on a long stalk needs only a breath of air to cause it to nod. It becomes an eye. The result of this sort of thing is, doubts arise. One stares, blinks, peers, and stares again into the gloom in an effort to get a clear picture and so identify the object for what it really is. But more often than not the object which has attracted attention, and on which one has focused, becomes more confused.

  Again, when nothing happens the desire to sleep must be fought. In spite of all one can do to keep awake it is the easiest thing in the world to fall asleep. One nod and the watcher is no longer watching. He is asleep. It is even possible to fall asleep for a few seconds without being aware of it. Only a fleeting memory of a dream may warn the watcher, with a shock, that he had for a little while failed in his duty. Time seems interminable. More and more often one looks at the time to see how much longer the night can last. These are facts which no one who has undertaken such duties will deny.

  Ginger, to whom a night guard was no new experience, was well aware of this. He knew that at the first suspicion of a nod there is only one thing to do, and that is get up and move about. As time wore on Ginger did this more than once. He deliberately refrained from making himself comfortable, for this can be fatal. Only when he was sure he was wide-awake did he return to his seat. He could still see Bertie, sometimes seated, sometimes standing.