by W E Johns
Said Bertie: ‘I say, chaps, we’ve certainly come to the end of the world, and that’s a fact. Not even a bally telegraph pole in sight. Fair gives me the creeps.’
‘Let’s press on before another squall blows up. We’ll peg the machine down but someone will have to stay with it. Any volunteers?’
Algy held up a hand. ‘I’ll sit in the “office.” I’d better not risk spraining my other ankle. If I did I’d be sunk.’
‘That’s all right with me.’
In a few minutes, having made the machine secure and leaving Algy in the cockpit, the others were on their way inland towards the red tent, or its position as nearly as it could be judged.
Said Ginger, as they picked a way through rocks, lumps of ice and sticky mud: ‘That fellow we saw can’t be a white man. He must have seen us come down, in which case surely he would have come to meet us. I can’t imagine anyone, except possibly an Indian, being here from choice.’
‘We should soon know the answer to that,’ returned Biggles. ‘What beats me is why I go on undertaking jobs which even a lunatic would have enough sense to decline.’
They struggled on.
CHAPTER 6
THE CASTAWAYS
IT needed a stiff pull of nearly half an hour to bring the shore party within sight of the objective—the dark red tent with its smudge of smoke.
As they approached Biggles let out a hail. A man appeared with a rifle in his hands but he was still too far off to be recognized. All that could be seen was, he was a white man, bearded, and dressed in what looked like a lot of rags.
He raised a hand and shouted, in English: ‘Don’t come any closer or I’ll shoot.’
‘Well, blow me down! This is a rum do,’ said Bertie, adjusting his monocle.
Biggles shouted: ‘What’s the idea? Are you Mr Carter?’
‘Yes,’ came the answer.
‘We’ve come to rescue you,’ called Biggles.
‘Where have you come from?’
‘England.’
There was no reply so Biggles walked on, the others following.
The man waited, his rifle at the ready.
‘Is Mr Barlow with you?’ asked Biggles, when he was within talking distance.
‘Yes.’
‘Where is he?’
‘Inside. He’s been shot.’
Said Biggles in a low voice: ‘You’re right, Bertie. This is a rum do.’ He walked on to the tent. ‘Glad we’ve found you, Mr Carter. What’s this about Mr Barlow being shot? By the way, my name’s Bigglesworth, and these are friends of mine. We flew out, and we’ve been looking for you for the past two weeks.’
‘Thank God you’ve come,’ said Carter. ‘You’re only just in time. We were about finished.’
This to Ginger was all too apparent. Mr Carter, bearded, ungroomed, emaciated, with his hair over his collar, showed all the signs one would expect from such an ordeal as the one he had suffered. His clothes were in rags, and his hands and face were so grimed with dirt and grease that it was no matter for wonder he had looked, from a distance, like an Indian. His canvas home was merely the mains’l of the Seaspray, or part of it, stretched over some boughs and held down all round with lumps of rock. A fire of peats and pieces of dead wood smouldered in front of the entrance.
‘Where is Mr Barlow wounded?’ asked Biggles.
‘In the thigh. I’ve done all I can for him, but without any proper bandages or antiseptic I’m afraid of the wound going septic. He lost some blood, and altogether he’s in a pretty bad way.’
‘Can he walk?’
‘I doubt it, now. He hasn’t tried lately. I made him lie still to give the wound a chance to heal. He could hobble along before it stiffened.’
‘Is the bullet still in his leg?’
‘No. Luckily it went right through, just scraping the bone, as far as I can make out, without breaking it.’
‘Let’s have a look at him.’
The flap of the tent was thrown aside to permit Biggles to enter.
At first Ginger could see nothing of the man, for bracken had been piled all over him presumably with the object of keeping him as warm as possible. When this was pulled away Ginger was shocked by what he saw, although, as he realized, he should have been prepared for something of the sort. If Carter looked all in, the sick man could hardly be better. But his eyes were open and he seemed fully conscious.
There was an anxious silence while Biggles examined the wound. When he straightened his back he smiled encouragement.
‘Not too bad,’ he announced. ‘We should be able to fix you up,’ he told the patient. ‘I’d say it was the cold that saved your life. It would stop the bleeding quickly and keep the bugs away. A germ would have to be hardy to survive in this climate. Anyway, I can’t find any infection so far.’
‘Can he be moved?’ asked Carter.
‘Presently. We’ll get the wound tidied up and put some food into him to give him strength to stand the journey.’ Biggles turned to Ginger and Bertie. ‘Go back to the machine. Bring me the medicine chest, a blanket and a few cans of milk and soup. You might also bring some biscuits. Be as quick as you can.’
‘Okay,’ said Ginger, and with Bertie set off down the slope.
Biggles turned to Carter. ‘Why did you threaten us when you saw us coming?’
‘I thought you were somebody else.’
Biggles indicated the wounded man. ‘The people responsible for this?’
‘Yes.’
‘How did it happen?’
‘We were on an island not far from here when suddenly two men appeared. They opened fire on us.’
‘What sort of men were they?’
‘They were white men.’
‘What were you doing at the time?’
‘Looking for botanical specimens, hoping to find something new.’
‘Why should these men attack you?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Didn’t it strike you as extraordinary behaviour—in a place like this?’
‘I suppose it did.’
‘You only suppose? Surely it was so extraordinary that they must have had a reason for it.’
‘No doubt they had.’
‘What did you do?’
‘We ran away.’
‘You didn’t shoot back?’
‘We had nothing to shoot with. We don’t usually carry weapons. We had a rifle but it was in the boat.’
‘So you ran back to the boat.’
‘Yes.’
‘Then what did you do?’
‘Nothing. That is, we started the engine and got away as fast as we could. The men saw us and fired again as we went. That was when Barlow was hit, before we could get out of range.’
‘How did these men get there?’
‘I’ve no idea.’
‘They could only have got there in a boat.’
‘Of course. I realize that.’
‘Didn’t you see one?’
‘No.’
That seems very odd. There aren’t many ships about here. I take it you landed at a beach?’
‘Yes.’
‘The only one on the island?’
‘I couldn’t say that. We landed at the only one we saw.’
‘Had you seen these men before?’
‘Never.’
‘Have you seen them since?’
‘No.’
‘And you have no idea of what they were doing on this particular island.’
‘Er—none at all.’ Carter’s brief hesitation was not lost on Biggles.
‘What brought you here?’
‘Naturally, not wanting to have any further trouble with these men we headed for Punta Arenas, but almost at once a blizzard blew up. We couldn’t see a thing, and to make a long story short we went on the rocks. We just had time to throw a few things ashore before she broke up. The mast snapped. That’s how we managed to save the sail which, as you see, we’ve used as a tent. Later, we moved here, to be out of the wind. It’s
fairly well sheltered. That’s about all. There was nothing more we could do. Every morning I go up to the top of the hill to see if there’s a ship in sight—not that I expect to see one.’
‘How is it you haven’t starved to death?’
‘Well, we salvaged a little food from our stores. With the rifle I’ve managed to shoot a bird or two, and once I got a deer near the timber. That, I think, saved our lives.’
‘So you saved the rifle?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why? I would have thought other things were more important.’
‘I was thinking of our protection, in case those two men found us again.’
‘You thought they might look for you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
Again there was a brief hesitation before Carter answered: ‘How would I know? Actually, our greatest difficulty has been to keep the fire going. Without it we would have frozen. We had only a few matches between us when we got ashore and some of those were spoiled by the salt water. We used the last one some time ago, since when I daren’t let the fire out. I spend most of my time collecting fuel and hunting. With only three cartridges left I daren’t risk a miss.’
Biggles lit a cigarette. ‘And in all the time you’ve been here you haven’t seen anyone?’
‘The only people we’ve seen were some Indians—five of them altogether. I think they must have seen the smoke of the fire. They were a nuisance. In fact, they became an absolute curse. They asked for food. With practically none for ourselves I couldn’t give them any. I tried to tell them that but they wouldn’t go away. They were such thieves that I daren’t take my eyes off them. I wrote a note to Mr Scott, of Punta Arenas, from whom we hired the boat, and tried to explain that if they would deliver it they would be well rewarded. I don’t think they could have understood. Anyway, I haven’t had an answer. One day I caught one of them cutting a piece of canvas from the back of our tent. In fact, he had it in his hand. That was going too far. I drove them away with the rifle. I’m sure they were only waiting for us to die so that they could help themselves to everything. They’ve never been back. I followed them to the beach to make sure they’d gone and saw them go off in their canoes after scraping some shell-fish off the rocks. I tried eating mussels but they made me sick.’
Biggles nodded. ‘We’ve seen that Indian who took the canvas. I showed it to Mr Scott and he confirmed that it had been part of the Seaspray’s sail.’
‘The Indian didn’t say he’d seen us?’
‘No. But I had an idea he knew more than he was prepared to admit.’
There was a short silence. Biggles drew heavily on his cigarette. Then he said, quietly: ‘Now, Mr Carter, suppose you tell me the rest of the story.’
Carter stared. ‘The rest? What do you mean?’
‘I mean the details you omitted from the narrative of your misfortunes.’
‘Why should you think there could be anything more?’
‘One or two little things. I hate to question your integrity but parts of your story don’t quite add up—anyway, not to my way of thinking.’
‘I don’t understand what you’re getting at.’
‘I think you do. You told me you didn’t know what those two men who shot at you were doing on that particular island.’
‘That is so.’
‘Or why they should drive you off.’
‘Well?’
‘I suggest that if you don’t know for a fact what those men were doing you have a pretty good idea. It would also account for them driving you away.’
‘Why should you think that?’
‘Because neither your behaviour, in the circumstances you have described, nor theirs, makes sense. And when things don’t make sense, having been around a bit I get suspicious and look for flaws. I don’t think there’s any need for me to go into details. In London I happen to be a police officer. I was sent here not only to look for you but for something else, not as important from your point of view, perhaps, but still, more important to some people. Forgive me if I’m wrong, but I fancy you know to what I refer. If we put that into the picture the whole thing begins to look a bit more realistic. Don’t you agree?’
Carter moistened his lips. ‘Yes, I suppose it does. But you will understand why I didn’t want to discuss the matter with strangers.’
‘I understand that perfectly well, Mr Carter, and in your position I would probably be as careful as you have been not to say too much. We’re talking about a commodity that too often leads to trouble.’
‘Had you told me at the beginning who you were, and that you were here in an official capacity, I would have been more frank with you,’ complained Carter.
‘Quite. But I also have reasons for not wanting strangers to know what I’m really doing here, and in view of what you tell me it seems a good thing I kept that under my hat. Now let’s get down to brass tacks. You know what those two men were after.’
‘Let’s say I suspect. I have no means of knowing for certain.’
‘You know, or suspect, they were looking for a quantity of gold that was lost here some time ago.’
‘Yes.’
‘How did you come to hear about this?’
‘Neither of us had heard a word about it when we came here.’
‘Then how do you know about it?’
‘Because,’ answered Carter simply, ‘we found it.’
Biggles blinked. ‘Do you mean you found it by accident?’ he asked incredulously.
‘As we knew nothing of it we couldn’t have come upon it any other way.’
‘But this is fantastic. I believe you, but how on earth could you have found it by accident? Were you digging up a plant or something?’
‘No.’
‘But surely it was under the ground!’
‘I think it had been. It was on the side of a rough sand-dune facing the channel. Originally, I imagine it had been buried, but either there had been a subsidence or else heavy rain had washed the soil away. At all events, there it lay, for all the world to see, a loose heap of gold bars and some white metal which I take to be platinum. We could hardly believe our eyes.’
‘I can believe that,’ murmured Biggles. ‘You still don’t know how it came to be there?’
‘I haven’t the foggiest notion.’
Biggles stubbed his cigarette on a rock. ‘I’ve heard some treasure hunting stories but this one caps the lot. It must be the first time someone has found a treasure of this size not only without looking for it but not even knowing of its existence. Have you any idea how much this stuff is worth?’
‘No. Have you?’
‘Not exactly, but it must be millions.’
Carter whistled.
‘Suppose you tell me the story again, all of it this time,’ suggested Biggles.
‘Very well,’ agreed Carter.
CHAPTER 7
MR CARTER TELLS HIS TALE
‘TELL me this before you start,’ said Biggles. ‘In view of the presence on the island of these two men it’s important. Did you touch the gold or did you leave it as you found it?’
‘We didn’t like the idea of leaving it lying there like that so we moved it. It was a bit of a job, but being excited, as you will imagine, we didn’t mind. We dug a hole in the beach itself, about a hundred yards away, put the metal in it bar by bar and then covered it up.’
‘Good. You could find the spot again?’
‘I could go straight to it.’
‘What about the place where you moved it from? Does it look like an excavation?’
‘Naturally, we left it looking a bit rough, but there has been a lot of rain since then and that might have flattened the ground.’
‘One other thing. How long ago did this happen?’
Carter pursed his lips. ‘Well, I’m a bit hazy as to dates, but it must be a couple of months.’
Biggles nodded. ‘I see. Now tell me exactly what happened. Take your time. My friends won’t be back for a while yet
. Have a cigarette?’
‘I don’t smoke, thanks.’
‘As you wish.’
‘It all came about like this,’ began Carter. ‘We were pottering about the islands without any fixed itinerary, taking notes and specimens, always on the lookout for something new, when suddenly Barlow called out: “What the dickens is all this?” I joined him, and there lay the gold. There was no mistaking what it was. We were flabbergasted. Naturally, having got over the shock we sat there and discussed the matter. With absolutely nothing to go on we didn’t know what to make of it. There was no indication of how long the stuff had been there. It might have been weeks or it might have been hundreds of years. We knew of course that in the old days Spanish galleons used the Magellan Strait to reach the Pacific, as did most of the well-known pirates and buccaneers at some time or other. I recalled that when Morgan had marched across the Isthmus of Panama to sack the city on the Pacific coast the Spaniards had loaded a lot of treasure in ships lying in the harbour and that these had escaped. We concluded that one of them must have been wrecked here. We knew nothing of any recent cargo of gold being lost. What puzzled us was the white metal. At first we thought it must be silver but we weren’t sure. I don’t profess to be a metallurgist. Anyway, after some discussion we decided to hide the stuff in case anyone else came along.’
‘You didn’t think of taking any of it away with you?’
‘We thought of it but decided against it. We realized that there would be difficulties in getting it home. It would almost certainly be claimed either by Chile or Argentina. We were not sure who the island belonged to. As no doubt you know, some of the islands belong to one country and some to the other. Some are claimed by both countries, and if news of the gold had got out it might have started trouble between them. At the finish we resolved to hide the stuff, say nothing to anyone about it, and make inquiries when we got back to England.’
‘I’d say that was a sensible decision,’ put in Biggles. ‘As the finders you would be entitled to a share.’
‘That’s what we thought. Well, we fetched from our boat the tools we used for digging out stubborn plants, made a hole in the sand nearer the water, and buried everything in a new place.’
‘Did you make a chart showing the place?’
