by W E Johns
CONTENTS
BRIEF GEOGRAPHICAL NOTE
CHAPTER I: BIGGLES HAS DOUBTS
CHAPTER II: MR. TIDORE
CHAPTER III: ORIENTAL TACTICS
CHAPTER IV: DEATH STRIKES IN THE DARK
CHAPTER V: TIGHT CORNERS
CHAPTER VI: BIGGLES TAKES A CHANCE
CHAPTER VII: THE COLONEL DROPS IN
CHAPTER VIII: BERTIE HAS SOME FUN
CHAPTER IX: BIGGLES GETS TOUGH
CHAPTER X: NATURE TAKES A HAND
CHAPTER XI: THE SUMATRAN
CHAPTER XII: A RECONNAISSANCE AND A BLOW
CHAPTER XIII: HARD GOING FOR ALGY
CHAPTER XIV: GINGER TAKES A TURN
CHAPTER XV: BIGGLES WALKS IN
CHAPTER XVII: TOTAL WAR
BRIEF GEOGRAPHICAL NOTE
THE Indian Ocean, whereon the following story is laid, has an approximate area of twenty-seven million square miles. It is the only one of the three great oceans that does not reach from Pole to Pole. With its tropic waters washing the shores of man’s earliest civilizations it is the true ocean of romance, lore and legend. Into it flow the rivers of biblical history. On it men first learned to use the wind as motive power, and on it still sail ships that have changed little through the ages. Thousands of years before men sailed westwards across the Atlantic from Europe, unwieldy-looking but seaworthy ships such as dhows and junks were making trading voyages with their fabulous cargoes of gold, spices, incense and Chinese silk.
Piracy is usually associated with the Spanish Main, perhaps because the names of some of the chief pirate captains have come down to us. Their reign was short. Pirates flourished on the Indian Ocean for thousands of years, almost to the present day. Indeed, one of the most successful pirates of all time, a Chinese woman who became known as Admiral Ching, operated between the East Indian Ocean and the China Sea as late as the first part of the nineteenth century. In 1813 she took three British ships and beheaded the captains with her own hands. In old age she retired to run a vast smuggling organization with spies everywhere. Another noted pirate of these waters was one Raga, who was finally run to earth by a frigate at Kuala Batu, on the west coast of Sumatra. Piracy and smuggling are not new occupations on the Indian Ocean.
One of the big centres of trade was the tropical island of Ceylon, known in the Golden Age as Taprobane, which hangs like one of the pearls for which it is famous on the southern tip of India. The old seaport and modern aerodrome of Jaffna, mentioned in the following pages, is an island off the north coast. Remains of the early Dutch fort, built for its protection, are still there.
On the same latitude, nine hundred miles to the east and just north of the equator, is the group of islands known as the Nicobars, twelve only of which are inhabited. Until not long ago they were the haunt of pirates lying in wait for the richly laden ships coming through the Malacca Strait from China.
Eastwards again, not far away, is the long coastline of the Malay Peninsula. Kuala Lumpur, an important air base, is the capital of the Malay State of Selangor.
South east of the Nicobars, and on the opposite side of the Malacca Strait from Malay, is the Indonesian island of Sumatra, more than a thousand miles long, with the airport of Kutaradja at its northern tip.
To these places came Biggles in his search for the perpetrators of a modern act of piracy.
CHAPTER I
BIGGLES HAS DOUBTS
AIR COMMODORE RAYMOND of the Special Air Police regarded his chief operational pilot with weary amiability. “You say I look tired, Bigglesworth,” he observed lugubriously. “Can you wonder at it? There are now more police in the world than ever before, yet in spite of that, in spite of the efforts of the fifty-two countries that have joined forces to form the International Police Bureau, in spite of radio, radar, and other scientific devices, there is today more large-scale organized crime than ever. And I’m expected to stop it.”
Biggles reached for a cigarette. “As the rewards of successful crime are also higher than ever before this state of affairs was inevitable. As for new devices, as they are made available to the police so also do they become available to the bad boys of this world. They have, moreover, produced a new type of law-breaker; the man with brains and organizing efficiency. Since taxation has made it almost impossible for a man to make a fortune honestly it’s only to be expected that some would turn to other methods. The more laws you make the more people you invite to break them.”
“I don’t know about that,” muttered the Air Commodore. “What I do know is, the running of contraband is becoming a major international industry. Some of these criminal organizations must be making millions a year. It’s no longer a matter of nylons, cigars and brandy. It’s diamonds, drugs, currency, forged travellers cheques, gold—all on a scale big enough to upset national economic arrangements.”
“Why this sudden burst of pessimism?” inquired Biggles, tapping the ash from his cigarette.
“I’ve just been going through the report of the General Assembly of the Commission. To give you an idea of what’s going on I read that last year forty thousand ounces of illicit gold, worth six million pounds, were intercepted and confiscated by Indian Customs officials alone. If the gangs can afford to lose that amount, and still carry on, one can imagine what the total turnover must be like.”
Biggles nodded. “The demand for gold in India, where people prefer one genuine piece of jewellery to a hundred imitations, is insatiable. Set gold free in the open market, as it was for thousands of years, and you stop the racket.”
“We must find other ways to stop it.”
“How?”
“You tell me.”
Biggles looked pained. “Have a heart, sir. How do you expect me, with a few pilots and half a dozen planes, to get on terms with agents and operatives scattered from one end of the world to the other? While there are Customs dues there will always be smuggling. If you searched everyone crossing a frontier no one would get anywhere.”
“I’m not talking about small-time stuff; the individual smuggler; I’m worried about these big gangs. And it isn’t only smuggling. We are, it seems, to be faced with a return to piracy on the high seas.”
Biggles smiled. “That, when they read about it, should delight the kids who have been fooled by story tellers into believing that piracy is a romantic occupation. Where has this rash broken out?”
“It isn’t a rash—yet. So far there has been only one case. But if it has happened once it will happen again, and before we know where we are small craft will have to sail in convoys for self-protection.”
“Where did it happen?”
“In the Indian Ocean.”
Biggles’ eyebrows went up. “Whereabouts?”
“In the region of the Nicobar Islands.”
“Sounds like history repeating itself. I believe the Nicobars always were a hideout for the merry mariners who preferred the black flag to any other.”
“The fact that the trouble has broken out there doesn’t necessarily mean that it will be confined to that area. It could spread to the Pacific, and if it did, it would need more ships and planes for patrol work than any country could afford.”
Biggles cocked an eyebrow. “You are not, I hope, going to suggest that I, with my little obsolete flotilla, should sweep the Jolly Roger from the Seven Seas?”
“We shall have to do something about it.”
“Why?”
“Because the craft molested was sailing under our flag. That gives us a duty in the matter. The owner of the ship expects our protection.”
“The deuce he does!”
“He is very angry, and he is, moreover, demanding compensation.”
“Well—well. What does he want—an escort of
the Grand Fleet? Who is this saucy sailor?”
“If you’ll listen I’ll tell you about it.”
“I’m all set, sir. Go ahead. I’ve always had a yen for a spot of piracy. The briny has lost something of its glamour since they did away with Execution Dock.”
“The craft concerned was a thoroughly seaworthy type known on the Indian Ocean as a sambuk. This particular vessel, of seventy tons, named Shima, is owned by a wealthy merchant in Ceylon, a Mr. Tidore. In their original form these ships travelled under sail and sweeps alone, but the modern versions, of which the Shima is an example, are fitted with an auxiliary engine. Since no sweeps are necessary this reduces the number of the crew required to man them. The Shima carried a crew of six. Its home port is Jaffna, on the northern tip of Ceylon. I must tell you that sambuks are used largely by the pearling industry, and the Shima was thus engaged when she was molested. Her owner was on board at the time.”
“What nationality is Mr. Tidore?”
“He passes as an Indian but actually he’s a Syrian, long resident on the island. His crews are mostly Tamil Indians although his divers are Arabs from the Persian Gulf. As you know, they are some of the best skin divers in the world.”
Biggles nodded.
“As I’ve said,” resumed the Air Commodore, “the Shima was on a pearling venture when she was interfered with. Tidore says they had been to the region of the Nicobar Islands and shortly after noon were on their way home with a rich catch when, surprisingly, for they were far from any air route, an aeroplane appeared. It came low, circled them twice, and then made off in the direction from which it had come.”
“Did he get its registration marks?”
“Apparently not.”
“Why not, if the aircraft flew low?”
“Presumably he saw no reason for taking them.”
“Did he recognize the type?”
“No. You wouldn’t expect him to. All he can say is it had two engines. There’s no proof that this machine had any connection with that was to follow but it now looks as if it might have been acting as a spotter. At all events, the next day the Shima was overtaken by a fast launch, or motor yacht, which fired a shot across her bows to make her heave to, which she did. The Shima was then boarded by two masked white men supported by some Chinese or Japanese types armed with sub-machine guns. The entire catch of pearl oysters was transferred to the yacht, which then cast off.”
“Did Tidore recognize this ship—yacht, launch, or whatever it was?”
“He’d never seen it before.”
“But he got its name?”
“The name, he says, both fore and aft, had been covered with canvas.”
“So Mr. Tidore, having been robbed by a plane and a ship acting in consort, can give no worthwhile description of either of them. Not a very observant man.” Biggles’ tone was thinly cynical.
“He was lucky to get home, for the yacht had opened fire on the Shima with the obvious intention of sinking her when a steamer appeared and it made off at full speed. The Shima was badly damaged. One member of the crew was killed and three wounded, two seriously.”
“What was the name of the steamer?”
“Tidore didn’t wait to see. He hurried on home.”
“And that’s how he lost his oysters. So what?”
“He was insured with Lloyd’s and is now claiming ten thousand pounds’ compensation for his loss, his casualties, and the damage done to his ship. That’s why we can’t ignore the affair. If this sort of piracy is to continue it will have the effect of raising insurance premiums on all small craft in those waters, and that would be a serious matter for the local traders.”
“Has the insurance money been paid?”
“Not yet.”
“I should think not.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because if ever I heard a tale that sounded phoney that one does.”
“Are you suggesting that Tidore is not telling the truth?”
“I have a feeling that he isn’t telling all of it.”
“But why should he tell such a tale if it wasn’t true?”
“With a shell-shot ship, a crewman dead and others wounded, he’d have to tell a tale of some sort—particularly if he decided to claim the insurance.”
“But these are the very factors that confirm his story.”
Biggles smiled faintly. “Of course. Naturally, the story would have to fit the conditions that would be plain for all the world to see when the ship reached port. Any other sort of story would invite gossip, possibly suspicion that Tidore was a liar. The main factors might be true in substance. I’m prepared to concede that the Shima was overhauled and robbed; but I can’t believe there was not more to it than that.”
“Why not?”
“Because aside from Tidore being a singularly unobservant, dull-witted fellow, for a successful merchant, there are too many angles that strike me as unusual, not to say unnatural. When people behave unnaturally there’s usually a reason.”
“What’s unnatural about this?”
“In the first place, why did Tidore go hundreds of miles to the Nicobar Islands when some of the finest pearls in the world are found right on his doorstep—in the Palk Strait, between Ceylon and India?”
“He may have decided to explore new ground.”
“Would you go nine hundred miles or thereabouts to fetch some plums if you had plenty in your garden?”
“Er—probably not.”
“All right. Why did Tidore make this trip in person? If I know anything about rich merchants they sit around where life is safe and easy, and pay others to take the risks for them. They’d be fools if they didn’t.”
“Maybe Tidore fancied a long sea trip.”
Biggles’ lip curled. “To fancy a long sea trip in a small craft on a dangerous ocean would be such unusual behaviour for an Oriental tycoon that if it were true one might suspect he was out of his mind. Oh, no. Tidore didn’t make that trip for fun, not even for a few whiffs of ozone. But we’ll let it pass. According to your story Tidore says he had made a rich catch.”
“Correct.”
“How did he know he had made a rich catch?”
“I imagine the man has eyes, and is able to recognize a pearl when he sees one.”
“I believe there’s some arrangement in Ceylon for pearl oysters to be brought in unopened. The shells are then counted into heaps, one of which is taken by the government by way of tax. No man knows what’s inside an oyster until it has been opened.”
“Tidore may have meant that he had a big load of oysters.”
“Fair enough. Now tell me this. As only one oyster in thousands contains a pearl of any value, why should a pirate go to the risk, trouble and expense of laying on an aircraft, and a ship, in order to collect shells that might contain only a few seed pearls? That doesn’t make sense to me. Even if Tidore knew what he had under his hatches the pirate couldn’t have known. Or could he?”
“What do you think?”
“I think the Shima was carrying a valuable cargo of some sort; and the pirate knew it.”
“The value of the shell alone, without any pearls, would be fairly considerable.”
“Chicken feed. Men don’t commit piracy for shirt buttons. If this affair took place west of the Nicobar Group, as is alleged, if my geography is any good that plane must have been at least four hundred miles from the nearest official aerodrome; so unless Tidore is the luckiest pearl fisher alive the shells he’d collect on that trip wouldn’t pay for the petrol that plane would burn. Wherefore I suspect Tidore had on board something more valuable than oysters, and the pirate knew it. At least that’s how it looks to me.”
“What else could he have had on board?”
“If I knew that I should know all the answers.”
“It boils down to this. You don’t believe Tidore’s story.”
“Not entirely. Much of it could be true; but I fancy Tidore has forgotten to mention the most important pa
rt—the real purpose of his trip. Naturally, my chief interest is in the air angle, and I agree with you that an air-sea piracy racket could become dangerous.”
“I’m glad you agree with something,” murmured the Air Commodore with gentle sarcasm. “Would you like to run out to Ceylon and check your opinion on the spot?”
“Not particularly. As far as Tidore’s activities are concerned I couldn’t care less.”
“We shall have to do something about it for no other reason than no one could then accuse us of allowing the thing to slide. If you went out you’d be on the spot should there be a repetition of this skull-and-crossbones business.”
“I doubt if there will be—not with Tidore, anyway. If he’s telling the truth it’ll be some time before he quits dry land again. But I’ll take a look round, sir. You won’t forget that the Indian Ocean embraces quite a lot of water, so I hope you won’t be looking for quick results.”
“Find out what Tidore’s doing, and what’s more important, try to get the low-down on this pirate.”
Biggles got up. “I’ll go and tell my boys the story and we’ll have a look at the map.”
Deep in thought Biggles made his way back to his own office where, to his team of pilots, he related the story narrated by the Air Commodore.
“This sounds like another little needle in a very large haystack,” remarked Algy, when he had finished.
“It could be worse,” returned Biggles. “We have at least two ends to what I suspect is a tangle of truths, half-truths and lies, so the first thing to decide is at which end do we start. One end is in Ceylon, the other on the far side of the Indian Ocean, exact position unknown.”
“But why should Tidore lie about this, old boy?” put in Bertie. “I mean to say, when a bloke has been robbed he’s usually flat out to help the police to swipe the blighter who pinched his purse.”
“Not if he himself has something to hide.”
“You think that’s the way the wind blows?”
“I’m pretty sure of it. The obvious answer to your question is this. Tidore might lie, or withhold certain facts—which amounts to the same thing—if he was not on legitimate business, for in that case he would forfeit his right to insurance compensation.”
