by W E Johns
"I'd be content to leave everything to your discretion," announced the Air Commodore. "The thing is to get this devil buttoned up before he can kill anyone else. If he goes on as he is, he may soon have a small army behind him, and that would be a more serious matter still."
"All right; as long as we're clear about that," agreed Biggles. "It's the only sensible way. Don't expect me to invite suicide by employing lily-fingered tactics with a mass murderer. This Black Elephant reckons on brutality for success. We'll see how that lines up against modern methods. I'll take on the job on the understanding that there's no interference by bureaucrats at home. I want no bleating in the House of Commons about a poor innocent native being shot. I'll have my orders in writing too. I'm not being made a scapegoat for a political racket."
The Air Commodore smiled at Biggles's vehemence. "All right. You get this black devil and you can rely on me to back you up if anyone lets out so much as a squeak."
"Fair enough. I take on this job knowing that the Black Elephant will kill me if he can. Others have tried to do that. If they get hurt themselves in the process I don't saturate my pillow with tears worrying about it. In this case, if one of us has to get shot, I shall do my best to see that it isn't me. As long as we're clear about that, I'll go ahead."
"Very well. Let me know how I can help you."
"There's one thing I'd like to examine while I'm getting ready, and that's the complete list of outrages thought to have been committed by the Black Elephant. If, as I imagine, he's covering the ground he knows best, it may give me a line to work on."
The Air Commodore agreed. "I'll send you up the complete report right away."
Biggles rose. "Thanks. I'll go and get my maps out."
CHAPTER 2
PLANS AND PREPARATIONS
TEN days after his conversation with the Air Commodore, Biggles and his team were at Kampala, the largest township in Uganda, in Central Africa, on the northern littoral of Lake Victoria, where a furnished bungalow conveniently near the airport had been put at the disposal of Scotland Yard by British Overseas Airways. A native cook, an elderly negress named Lulu, had been "laid on" by the same company to attend to the kitchen arrangements.
Not knowing how long he would be in Africa Biggles had decided that it was essential that they should base themselves somewhere on the main trunk route down the continent where communications, maintenance, stores, and radio, as well as servicing facilities, were available for the three machines which he had selected as best suited for the work on hand. These were a Mosquito with full war armament, on loan from the R.A.F., a Proctor, and an Auster. All were fitted with long range tanks and high frequency radio telephony. A considerable amount of equipment, which need not be detailed but which covered everything Biggles thought he was likely to require, had been carried out by one of the big machines of the B.O.A.C regular service.
The aircraft, on account of their different speeds, had been flown out independently. Biggles, with Ginger as second pilot, had flown straight on in the Mosquito to make preparations for what might turn out to be a long stay at the bungalow. Algy and Bertie, following in their own time, had arrived three days later.
Kampala had been chosen as the most central spot from which to operate. To the north lay the Sudan, Ethiopia, and the most easterly point of French Equatorial Africa. To the west spread the vast territory of the Belgian Congo. To the east Kenya. To the south were Northern Rhodesia and Nyasaland. There had been rumours of Cetezulu being in all these countries. Kampala was, therefore, more or less in the middle of the area being threatened by him. Even so, the distances that might have to be covered were such that Ginger, on the way down, was appalled by the magnitude of the task they had undertaken. The half-million square miles in which the Black Elephant had been known to operate comprised every imaginable sort of country, from sea level to plateaus rising many thousands of feet, wherein were to be found plains, swamps, mountains, deserts, jungles and tropical forests, all on a gigantic scale. In a moment of pessimism he voiced to Biggles his doubts about the outcome of the expedition.
"I’ll give you a tip worth remembering," answered Biggles sagely. "It was given to me by a Nepalese who spent most of his life hauling loads on his back up the Himalayas. He said it was a mistake to look too far ahead. He admitted that if he looked too often at the top of the mountain up which he had to climb, he would sit down or go back. The size of the job would knock the heart out of him. So he never looked up. He only looked down—and kept on plodding. It was easier that way. Get the idea? You can apply that method to any stiff undertaking, such as the one we’re on now."
Ginger agreed that there might be something in it.
How the marauders were to be dealt with even if they were located had been more or less left in the air for the simple reason that the situation, and the method of handling it, would depend largely on where contact was made. In a rather vague sort of way it had been suggested, that the best course would be for Biggles to call up either police or native troops, or both, on the radio; and leave the ground forces to make the arrests. It was realised that this right be easier in theory than in practice. Military forces were few and far between, and even though they possessed light trucks and other mechanical transport it would probably take them days, or even weeks, to reach the objective, only to find that the raiders were no longer there. Trucks would be useless in rough country, anyway and if it came to foot slogging it was unlikely that a disciplined body of men, carrying the equipment they would require, would be able to overtake the lightly clad raiders, who could be kept under observation from the air by day but not by night. The method of dealing with them had therefore been left to Biggles’s discretion. Anyhow, as he remarked, the first thing was to find them.
Nothing fresh had transpired since Biggles had accepted the assignment, although a study of the long list of outrages had produced a sort of pattern that provided for speculation. From the dates and locations of the raids it seemed—as Biggies pointed out to the others—that the Black Elephant worked in a definite cycle, travelling in a great circle, and striking at intervals. But—and this was the point—it was always following a raid far to the north that a lull occurred, as if the raiders were taking a rest from their considerable exertions.
While admitting that the gang would have to rest somewhere, sometime, Biggles claimed that this itinerary supported his view that Cetezulu had a hide-out for the accumulation of his loot. If the regular lull that followed a northern raid meant that the gang were resting, it followed that the hiding-place lay in that direction. It was, Biggles conceded, a slender clue considering the size of the country involved; but they had to start somewhere.
Bertie had an opinion on this aspect, based on his experience of foxes and fox-hunting. The fox, he said, was by general consent the most cunning of all animals, although some of the big game animals in Africa, after being hunted constantly, could run him pretty close. Cetezulu might be expected to employ the same sort of cunning. The fox did not kill on his own doorstep, thus betraying the whereabouts of his lair. He went far afield to make a kill. The place to look for him, therefore, was where his usual prey remained undisturbed, where there were no signs of him. Following this line of argument, the place to look for the Black Elephant's retreat was in a district where there had never been a raid.
Biggles admitted that there might be something in this and said he would bear it in mind, particularly as such an area occurred in the extreme north. An argument against this theory was, the Black Elephant would probably do most of his raiding in the south in any case, because the most valuable loot was to be found there. There was little in the north—merely native kraals and an occasional trader or prospector. Still, the Black Elephant had certainly been in the north, because one of his murders, that of Major Harvey, the game warden, had occurred near the Bunyoro Reserve, in Uganda.
Algy asked, if Cetezulu did not normally kill in the locality of his hide-out, why had he revealed his position by killing th
e game warden, for all he could have got of that was the dead man's rifle, and stores that had presumably been abandoned.
Biggles answered that Cetezulu had probably killed Harvey for the very reason that the game warden had by accident discovered him, so his whereabouts would have been reported in any case. By killing Harvey, Biggles asserted, Cetezulu had hoped to avoid the very thing he had succeeded in doing; which was to call attention to his position. This was due to the fortuitous arrival on the scene of the wounded buffalo, which had enabled Mishu, the gun-bearer, to escape and report the matter at Administrative Headquarters.
Actually, further light was thrown on this when Mishu was fetched from Nairobi by Algy in the Proctor. Mishu came willingly, and not only gave his version of the affair, but threw some interesting sidelights on the whole business.
He turned out to be a middle-aged man typical of the warlike Masai tribe to which he belonged—tall, sinewy, thin-lipped, proud, and somewhat taciturn. He had not, Ginger was pleased to note, adopted the semi-European style of dress affected by many natives, but still wore the simple loin-cloth with a few ornaments. His chest and arms bore the scars of more than one encounter with wild animals. There was nothing unusual about this, since in order to qualify for manhood a Masai must kill a lion with his spear. As a matter of detail, Biggles knew from reading some of Major Harvey's reports that Mishu had won a reputation even among his own people as a lion-killer, for which reason he had been taken on as a gun bearer, a job that calls for the highest courage, nerve and coolness, since in facing up to a charge by lion, buffalo or elephant, the gun bearer puts his life in the hands of his master, who does the shooting.
From his long employment by white hunters Mishu spoke English fairly well, although in a high-pitched, sing-song drawl that fascinated Ginger until he became accustomed to it. His manner was serious and reserved.
Apart from being able to describe the general appearance of the Black Elephant, he had little information that was not already in Biggles's possession. He confirmed that Cetezulu was an exceptionally big man whose height was exaggerated by an ostrich feather headdress. If the man carried firearms, Mishu said he did not see them. At the time of their brief encounter he had noticed only a broad-bladed assegai and the almond-shaped Zulu shield of oxhide. Mishu had certain opinions, however, to which Biggles paid close attention.
He said he believed the Black Elephant to be a man who, some years back, had caused a lot of trouble as a game poacher in the Semliki and Guru Reserves. To what tribe this man belonged he did not know, but he was certainly not a Zulu. He and Major Harvey had often looked for this poacher but had only once caught a glimpse of him. He killed practically all the rhinos in the district, mostly by trapping, or poisoning, or other revolting practices. They always knew his work, when carcasses were found, by the way the horns were sawn off.
When Biggles expressed some surprise at this Mishu went on to explain that rhino horn had a considerable value in China where it was held in high esteem as a medicine. The horn, ground up, was worth thirty shillings or more a pound. There was reason to believe that the poacher sold his stuff to a trader from Ethiopia or Italian Somaliland. Mishu was convinced that the Black Elephant was the poacher of that time. He had merely widened the scope of his nefarious activities. At all events, he knew the same country intimately, and used the same tracks. The poacher knew that he was being sought by Major Harvey, who eventually hounded him out of the district. That was why, Mishu thought, Major Harvey had been murdered on sight. The Black Elephant recognised him and took his revenge.
"I see," said Biggles slowly. This revenge motive was of course a new development.
Mishu concluded by saying, quite calmly, that as he had lost his master, he himself was going to look for the Black Elephant, and kill him.
After a moment’s reflection Biggles asked him, as they both had the same object in view, if he would care to join them. It was obvious that such a man would be useful to them in many ways.
Mishu did not jump at the offer, but he said yes, he would go with them. Perhaps they could help each other. So he became one of the party, making himself a bivouac in the garden of the bungalow and more or less keeping to himself except when his advice was sought, as it often was.
For the moment there was little that any of them could do except wait for a clue as to the Black Elephant's whereabouts. Nothing had been heard of him for some time, so to start anything like a serious search would be a haphazard proceeding that would only tire them, and put wear and tear on the machines to no purpose. It was better to stand by, Biggles decided, until they had something definite to work on. The airport radio would let them know if anything happened. Meanwhile, traders, game rangers, white hunters, and many native tribes were keeping watch for the would-be Black Emperor.
Biggles spent a good deal of time studying the pattern formed by the many outrages committed by the bloodthirsty negro. These he had marked on a map, which was pinned to a wall of the living-room. Sometimes he would call Mishu in for his opinion, and on more than one occasion this resulted in useful details coming to light. Maps, Mishu said, were in his opinion unreliable, in that they did not make allowances for the seasons. The chief lakes, rivers and water-holes, were always there, of course; but there were periods when during the rains water became available in districts where, according to the maps, there was only desert. For information about water, therefore, it was better to rely on local knowledge. This was of great interest to Biggles, who was still thinking on the lines of a water supply in connection with the movements of the stolen cattle.
It was Mishu; too, who introduced the further possi1ity that Biggles had not taken into account: Biggles happened to remark that it was strange that the Black Elephant seemed to be able to move about unseen by native hunters, cow-herders and the like.
Mishu startled him by saying that it would be impossible for the Black Elephant to move about without being seen by such people. He was bound to be seen, and fairly often. If the Black Elephant himself was not seen, his tracks would certainly be seen, for the simple reason that it was impossible to move a large herd of cattle without leaving tracks. The cattle would have to be watered. Near water the ground is soft, and when the ground is soft it is impossible not to leave marks.
"Why, then, do people not report the presence of the Black Elephant when they see him?" demanded Biggles.
Mishu's explanation was simple. The Kaffirs—as he called Hottentots—were afraid to speak, for fear the Black Elephant would return and slay them. In their terror of him some native tribes, he did not doubt, would help him, and provide him and his followers with food if they were short. "You will remember, bwana," said Mishu simply, "this man tells everyone he will one day be king of Africa. They think this may be true. If he is one day king, then he will kill all people who did not help him to be king."
Biggles perceived that, from the natives' point of view, this was a sound argument. However, Mishu did not think that any of the natives who were comfortably settled in the reserves allotted to them would join the outlaws, unless they were forced to it by the threat of death. It was more likely, he thought, that Cetezulu's followers were men who had been in trouble in the big cities of the south. Such men were thieves by nature. But, of course, he added as an afterthought, if the Black Elephant became really powerful, then bad men from all over Africa might join him to make a big army.
Biggles became more and more glad that he had this shrewd Masai on hand to give him advice.
A week passed, and Ginger was beginning to get bored with doing nothing, when a runner arrived from the radio room with a message. It was brief and to the point. The Black Elephant had struck again. The place was Ulunga, Northern Rhodesia. A safari had been attacked and wiped out. A white hunter, two American sportsmen and some of their native porters, had been massacred. One wounded survivor had reached Kasama and reported the crime. It had taken him ten days.
"Lets get cracking," said Ginger crisply, after the message h
ad been read aloud.
Biggles shook his head. "No use. There would be nothing to see when we got there. These murders took place days ago. By this time the Black Elephant will be hundreds of miles away." He turned to the map and marked a spot with a finger. "Here's Ulunga, at the foot Lake Tanganyika. That's about eight hundred miles from here. While we were tearing down south Cetezulu would probably be heading north as fast as he could hook it. He wouldn't be likely to linger on the scene of his crime. That's if his previous record is anything to go by, and I see no reason why he should change his tactics. North Rhodesia seems to be about the southern limit of his operations. His next effort, I imagine, will be somewhere north of that, but in all probability still south of us. He should still be heading north. That means that he will travel up one side or the other of the lake, which, as you see, runs practically due north and south, a matter of four hundred and fifty miles. The question is, which side of the lake will he follow, the east bank or the west? Fortunately the lake is not very wide, between thirty and forty miles for the most part."
"D’you mean you're going to sit here and wait for this hound to kill somebody else?" cried Ginger in an astonished voice.
"I didn't say that," returned Biggles. "I said I could see no point in rushing eight hundred miles south while the man we're looking for is probably travelling north at full speed. We should do better, I think, to watch the shores of the lake. It's Belgian territory on the far side, but I don’t think that matters much. The Belgians must be as sick of this scoundrel as we are. The only thing is; if Cetezulu sees too many planes flying up and down, not being a fool he may guess what they're looking for and take extra precautions against being seen."