by W E Johns
This produced a scramble for cover, the negroes diving behind scrub, trees, ant-hills, or anything that happened to be handy.
Silence fell, a curious hush after the noise that had preceded it. After a little while it was broken by a single shot fired from the aircraft.
‘I wonder what Algy’s shooting at?’ said Biggles, turning in the direction of the sound.
The lull persisted.
‘What do you think they’re doing?’ Biggles asked Bourgon.
‘Probably getting ready to charge,’ was the disconcerting reply.
CHAPTER 15
HOW IT ENDED
Half an hour passed.
Little was seen of the attacking force after the body of the witch-doctor had been carried out of sight behind some scrub, and had it not been for an inquisitive head which showed itself from time to time it might have been thought that the tribesmen had withdrawn altogether. A great cloud of smoke rising into the air lower down the lake showed that, as Biggles had predicted, the village had been set on fire.
Ginger looked at his watch. ‘If they’re coming why don’t they come?’ he muttered irritably. ‘What are they waiting for?’
‘Could be the silly blighters are thinking of a night attack?’ suggested Bertie, breathing on his monocle and giving it an extra polish. ‘They know what they’ll get if they charge in broad daylight.’
‘It is not usual for such people to attack by night,’ said Captain Bourgon. ‘As they are armed only with spears they like to see what they are doing. It is more likely they are holding a council of war, to decide from which direction to attack us. Knowing we are all inside and cannot get away they may have decided to starve us out. Time to them is no object.’
‘They’re not hoping we’re such fools as to go out to look for them?’ said Biggles.
‘No. It is more likely they are wondering how long we could endure a siege.’
‘We’re not short of food,’ stated Ginger.
‘We soon shall be with all those Zinns to feed,’ returned Biggles. ‘One good meal all round would about finish what we have.’
‘Oh Lord! I’d forgotten about the Zinns,’ confessed Ginger.
‘The enemy won’t have forgotten them, you can bet your life on that. Certainly not Batoun, if he’s in charge of operations. If he can keep us shut up in here there’s nothing to prevent him from continuing his search for diamonds. That’s what caused the friction between him and Ducard. Ducard wanted to go. Batoun wanted to stay. They had a row about it and it ended with Ducard being shot.’
‘Have you seen any diamonds?’ questioned Captain Bourgon.
‘Not one, nor a sign of one. In this sort of ground I wouldn’t expect to. I haven’t see any gravel that looks as if it might be diamondiferous. Had the soil or subsoil been blue clay instead of red earth it would be a different matter. Batoun can’t have had much experience of diamond-mining or he wouldn’t be wasting his time here. Ducard knew better. Having tested the ground over the whole area he realized he was on a wild goose chase.’
Another hour passed.
‘It looks as if we’re in for a siege or a night attack,’ opined Biggles.
‘Poor old Algy will be getting browned off sitting out there with only the bally crocs and hippos for company,’ averred Bertie.
‘If this goes on much longer I shall tell him to fly down to Nabula and let the R.M. know how we’re fixed,’ said Biggles.
‘How are you going to tell him? You can’t swim out to him and if he comes closer in spears will make the machine look like a bally porcupine—if you see what I mean, old boy.’
‘My voice should reach him if I shouted. Sound carries well over water and he’s switched off. I suppose I should have made allowances for this situation but to tell the truth it didn’t come into my calculations.’
‘If we opened up on them we might drive them back,’ suggested Ginger. ‘There are ten of us not counting Algy. They’re only hiding behind bushes and bushes won’t stop bullets.’
‘We can’t afford to waste cartridges shooting blind.’
Captain Bourgon shook his head. ‘We must avoid casualties for as long as possible. If we killed some of them you can imagine what a fuss there would be at home, made by people sitting comfortably by their fires not understanding such a situation as this. They are in no danger so they would say we were wrong: bad, wicked people, to shoot poor helpless natives.’
‘How right you are,’ answered Biggles, moodily. ‘All the same, I don’t feel like sitting here waiting for those misguided fools to creep up on us under cover of darkness. Leopard-men are experts at that sort of thing. It wouldn’t be very difficult for them to set fire to the fence of the compound. That flimsy brushwood would blaze up in no time. If that happened we’d be in a nice mess. The Zinns would panic and we wouldn’t dare to shoot for fear of hitting them.’
‘Well, for goodness sake, let’s do something,’ pleaded Ginger. ‘This sitting here doing nothing is getting on my nerves.’
Biggles got up. ‘I’ll go and tell Algy to fly down to Nabula for advice. That would make the business their responsibility.’
‘I don’t see how they could help us. A safari would be days getting here.’
‘Algy might fly some troops up—if there are any available. I’ll tell him to fly down and ask for orders.’
‘Mind how you go. They’ll be watching.’
‘Give me covering fire if they try a rush.’
‘Okay.’
Biggles walked down to the edge of the water. One or two tribesmen broke cover, hesitated, and at the end did nothing. Cupping his hands round his mouth Biggles shouted: ‘Can you hear me?’
‘Yes,’ came the answer from Algy, standing up in the cockpit.
‘Fly to Nabula. Explain position and ask R.M. what we are to do.’
Algy waved to show he understood and sat down.
With an eye on the enemy position Biggles walked back to the bungalow.
The Gadfly’s engines sprang to life. All eyes were on the machine as it raced across the water, lifted almost at once being so lightly loaded, and swung away to the southward.
As the roar of the engines receded Biggles said: ‘I think that was the right thing to do. We couldn’t do anything here with the plane and we couldn’t leave Algy sitting out there indefinitely. I feel better now that’s off my mind.’
‘Listen!’ said Ginger, raising his head. ‘It sounds to me as if he’s coming back.’
‘You’re right,’ agreed Biggles, frowning. ‘He must be in trouble.’
Within a minute there was no doubt about it. The engine noise came nearer and presently the aircraft reappeared. It made a tight circuit, landed, and taxied back to its original position—perhaps a little closer in. The engines died as they were switched off.
‘I don’t get it,’ said Ginger.
‘The engines sounded all right to me,’ asserted Bertie.
Algy appeared, standing up in the cockpit. He beckoned urgently.
‘He has something to tell us—explain why he came back,’ said Biggles. ‘I’ll go and hear what he has to say.’ Again he walked down to the edge of the water. ‘What’s wrong?’ he yelled.
Algy shouted: ‘Stand fast...’ and that was as far as he got, for at this moment, with wild shouts that drowned all other sounds the mob of tribesmen rose up from their hiding places to begin a slow advance, in a long line, stamping their feet and brandishing their spears.
Algy, realizing he could not be heard, made signals with his arms; but they might have meant anything. Biggles had no alternative but to run back to the bungalow. ‘They must have thought we were up to some trick,’ he panted on arrival.
‘Well, chaps, this looks like it,’ said Bertie, cheerfully, as the blacks came stamping on, singing some sort of war song.
‘Yes, I’m afraid it has come to shooting after all,’ said Captain Bourgon, bitterly.
‘We’d better give them a chance to come to their senses,’ s
uggested Biggles. ‘A volley close over their heads might stop them.’
Before the order to fire could be given a curious thing happened. The natives stopped. The shouting died as if it had been a sound radio switched off. They seemed all to be staring in the same direction.
‘I can see Batoun in the rear,’ said Ginger, sharply. ‘He’s going back. He’s running away.’
‘I can see the rascal,’ rapped out Biggles. ‘Give me that rifle.’
Bertie passed him the Express.
Biggles brought it to his shoulder and took aim. He fired. Batoun stumbled and fell.
‘That settles his hash, the stinker,’ observed Bertie, approvingly.
The attack had fizzled out. Some of the invaders were retiring, looking back over their shoulders. The Gadfly’s engines were started and the machine began taxiing towards the shore.
‘What the deuce is happening?’ cried Biggles in an exasperated tone of voice. ‘Is Algy out of his mind?’
The machine came on.
Charlie appeared, grinning all over his face, as the saying is. ‘Bwana come,’ he announced.
‘Bwana! What bwana?’
‘Soldiers.’
No further explanation was necessary, for round the corner of the bungalow, at the double, came a white officer at the head of a double line of men of the King’s African Rifles. Behind them were twenty or more porters carrying loads.
‘What the devil’s going on here?’ demanded the officer.
‘I shall be happy to tell you,’ replied Biggles, warmly, realizing now why Algy had turned back. From the air he would of course have seen the relief force coming.
‘Who are all these blacks I see running?’ asked the officer.
‘Raiders from the Congo.’
‘I knew nothing about that.’
‘I hadn’t time to let you know.’
The officer looked at Captain Bourgon. Apparently he recognized the uniform, for he said, rather sharply: ‘What are you doing here?’
Biggles answered. ‘Give me time and I’ll tell you all about it. My name’s...’
‘Yes, I know. The R.M. at Nabula was warned you were coming out. He got your note.’
‘These are my friends and assistants,’ went on Biggles, introducing them. ‘And this is Captain Bourgon. He came to the frontier in pursuit of the two men who were causing trouble here. When we were attacked, as we stood talking, we joined forces for mutual assistance.’
‘My name’s Lieutenant Lomax,’ said the new arrival as the two officers saluted. ‘Where are these two men, who caused the trouble, now?’
‘One is certainly dead and I think the other one is, too,’ replied Biggles.
‘Have you any casualties?’
‘No—not counting Sergeant Abdullah I’Mobo, whom we found dead when we arrived here. But I’m afraid there would have been casualties on both sides if you hadn’t turned up when you did. We were on the point of being attacked in some strength.’
‘I heard the shouting. As I’ve told you, we got your note and I was detailed to start right away in case you needed help. We had trucks for part of the way. What about the Zinns?’
‘They’re all right. We’ve got them in the compound. I think they’ve lost their village. We saw smoke. The raiders must have set fire to it.’
‘Yes. We saw that smoke. I was afraid it was the bungalow and we should be too late. It caused us to put on an extra spurt.’
‘Much obliged. Things were getting difficult. Come inside and have a drink and I’ll tell you all about it.’
With drinks and a snack on the table Biggles related the story of the events since his arrival. He did not mention his belief that the ground under their feet was heavy with bauxite. ‘That’s about the lot,’ he concluded.
‘So the trouble was leopard-men, and not real leopards,’ murmured Lieutenant Lomax thoughtfully. ‘We thought as much. What are you going to do now?’
‘There’s nothing more we can do so I might as well hand over to you and get along home. I imagine Captain Bourgon will do the same. It’s rather late for me to start today so if it’s okay with you we’ll stay the night and make an early start tomorrow. Nabula will get a copy of my report in due course.’
‘That suits me. I can give Captain Bourgon an escort as far as the frontier in case any of these raiders are hanging about. Meanwhile, let’s see what’s happening outside.’
They found all was quiet, with no sign of the raiders. The body of the witch-doctor could not be found so apparently it had been carried away or hidden. They found the half-breed, Batoun. He was dead. His corpse had been mutilated by spear thrusts, from which it was clear that the men he had led far from their homes had lost their respect for him, if they ever had any.
‘Ducard’s body is lying at his old camp at the far end of the lake. If it’s still there you might see about burying it,’ requested Biggles.
‘Is there any reason why it shouldn’t still be there?’
Biggles grimaced. ‘The raiders will pass it on their way home; and even if they leave it alone the lake is crawling with crocodiles.’
‘I see. Well, let’s get back to the rest-house. Tomorrow I’ll get my fellows to help the Zinns to build a new village, probably nearer the compound. They can stay there for the time being.’
In the glow of sunset the party returned to the bungalow.
There is little more to tell. Four days later after an uneventful trip home the Gadfly was in its hangar, and the following morning found Biggles in his office writing his report for the Air Commodore.
‘What are you going to say about the bauxite, since we know now that’s what it is?’ asked Ginger.
Biggles had had the metal tested at Marseilles on the way home. ‘I shan’t mention it,’ he answered.
The others looked astonished. ‘Do you really mean that?’ questioned Algy.
‘I do. Anyway, that’s how I feel at the moment.’
‘But there must be thousands of tons of aluminium there waiting to be picked up!’
‘More like tens of thousands. That’s the trouble.’
Then what’s the idea?’
A smile spread slowly over Biggles’ face. ‘Do you realize what our knowledge would be worth to certain people?’
Ginger chipped in. ‘But the stuff’s no use to us! We can’t go and dig it.’
‘I hadn’t contemplated doing anything so daft. But one day, if I live, I shall be an old man, and it would be nice to have a nest-egg tucked away.’
‘How? I don’t get it. Sooner or later someone else will discover the stuff.’
‘That may be, but if I held a mining concession on the Lake Jumu area they wouldn’t be able to touch it. If anyone wanted the mining rights they’d have to come to me and either buy the concession outright or pay me a royalty on every ton of aluminium raised. That means that such a concession would be worth an awful lot of money.’
‘Do you seriously mean you’re thinking of applying for a concession?’
‘Why not?’
Algy came back. ‘It wouldn’t work.’
‘Why wouldn’t it?’
‘Because it would be said you’d made the discovery in the course of your official duties, while you were being paid by the government.’
‘The bauxite has nothing whatever to do with the purpose for which we were sent to Africa. Apart from that angle there’s nothing to prevent me from resigning this job if I felt like it. An alternative would be for me to get a friend, someone I could trust, to take out the concession—what is called a nominee—and hand it to me later on.’
Bertie was looking suspicious. ‘Well, blow me down! This is the first time I’ve heard you take an interest in money. Are you sure that’s the real reason why you’re keeping this information up your sleeve?’
Biggles’ smile broadened. ‘No, I’m not sure. At least, it isn’t the whole reason.’
‘Then come clean,’ requested Ginger. ‘What are you trying to give us?’
/> Biggles became serious. ‘We were sent to Africa to help the Zinns. I like them. They’ve never done anyone any harm. I wouldn’t like it on my conscience that we’d let them down.’
‘Let them down! How? Go on.’
‘Do you realize what would happen if one of the big metal operating companies knew what we know? Armies of workmen and engineers would arrive at Lake Jumu. The place would become a maze of factories and chimneys covered in red dust. The bowels would be torn out of the ground. Engines and cranes would thump and thunder day and night. A railway would appear. The lake would be polluted. The fish would die, and so would the poor old hippos. The Zinns, instead of living quiet, peaceful lives in a little world of their own, far from the scares of hydrogen bombs and other horrors civilization is producing, would be wiped out, or what would be even worse, find themselves slaves, digging holes in the ground for stuff that’s no use to them for purposes they couldn’t begin to understand. Why should we inflict that on them? I say let’s leave ‘em alone, happy and content with their fishing.’
The others stared.
Then Bertie spoke. ‘Hear-hear! Absolutely, old boy. You’re dead right. I’m with you all the way.’
‘Yes, there’s something in that,’ agreed AJgy.
Ginger nodded. ‘Okay with me. Then you won’t take out a concession?’
‘Ha! You bet your life I will. While I hold it no one will be able to dig one shovelful of the red earth of Lake Jumu without first coming to me. Why do you suppose I said nothing about the bauxite to Captain Bourgon or that officer, Lomax, who came up from Nabula? I kept that under my hat until I’d given it some thought.’
‘You’re an artful old fox,’ said Bertie with a chuckle.
‘I wondered why you’d kept the soft pedal on that,’ declared Algy.
‘Well, now you know. I’ve decided it would be a shame to upset the lives of the Zinns simply because of an experiment I’d done at school. Not a word to a soul about aluminium. What I’ve just said is between these four walls. Mum’s the word. Is that understood?’
‘Of course. But aren’t you going to tell the Air Commodore?’
‘I shan’t say a word about it in my report. Why should I? Prospecting for metals didn’t come into our assignment. I may tell him later on, on the quiet, when I’ve got my concession.’