Biggles at World's End

by W E Johns

  ‘I suppose all we can do is stick around and wait for the letter to arrive,’ said Algy.

  ‘Or the ship. Meanwhile we’ll carry on as we intended. We’ll make one trip down the Strait to have a look at the stuff as soon as the weather takes up. Then we come back here and wait.’

  ‘Do you suppose the captain of the ship that’s coming knows what this is all about?’ Ginger asked the question.

  ‘He’ll have to know. It wouldn’t be left to us to tell him. The annoying thing is, we haven’t a clue as to when he’s due to arrive here.’

  ‘Will he call here, at Punta Arenas?’

  ‘Presumably, although we don’t even know that for sure. No doubt we shall get all the gen in the Air Commodore’s letter when it comes.’

  ‘Things would be in a nice mess if we ran into trouble down the Strait and weren’t here to meet the ship when it arrived.’

  ‘That, I admit, would throw the spanner in the works,’ said Biggles, frowning. ‘In the sort of weather they get here we might be grounded for a week or more by sleet, snow, fog— anything. Wind could blow up a sea that would make it impossible for us to get off. We can only operate from water. At least, there are few beaches, or flat ground, large enough to land on or take off from. But there’s an easy way over that snag. I mean, about meeting the ship should we be stuck somewhere.’

  ‘I don’t get it,’ said Algy.

  ‘How’s your ankle?’

  ‘Not too bad. It’s still a bit painful if I put any weight on it.’

  ‘The quickest way to get it right is to rest it.’

  Algy smiled. ‘I see. In other words you leave me here to meet the ship should she arrive before you get back from your trip to the island.’

  ‘You’ve got it. That seems to be a sane precaution. If we didn’t come back at all, and that’s always a possibility when operating in such conditions as we have here, you would be able to guide the skipper to the gold. What is even more important from my point of view you’d know roughly where we were and could lead a search party to rescue us. I hope it won’t come to that but I wouldn’t trust this weather for ten minutes together.’

  ‘That’s all right with me,’ agreed Algy. ‘I’d only have to twist my other ankle and you’d have to carry me.’

  ‘Another thing. If that letter comes from the chief before I’m back you’d better open it and see what it’s about. It should contain the whole plan of operation—the name of the ship, where it’s coming from and its estimated time of arrival.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ agreed Algy.

  ‘Very well. As the weather looks as if it might take up the rest of us will press on to the airfield,’ decided Biggles. ‘The sooner this part of the job is over the better I shall sleep at nights. This weather gives me the willies.’

  With those who were going on the trip he went out to the car and so to the airfield. The rain had stopped, but there was still a lot of low, misty cloud about, although it appeared to be lifting. However, as Biggles was anxious to go over the machine thoroughly there was no immediate urgency, and the next hour was spent looking for possible signs of sabotage. They found none, much to their relief, and just as they had satisfied themselves on this Gontermann walked in.

  ‘Are you thinking of flying?’ he asked.

  ‘We are.’

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Down the Strait.’

  ‘For what purpose? Looking for more castaways?’

  Gontermann couldn’t keep a slight sneer out of his voice.

  ‘No,’ returned Biggles evenly. ‘I’m going to try to locate the wreck of the Seaspray and perhaps bring some stuff Carter left behind.’

  ‘What sort of stuff?’

  ‘Botanical specimens and equipment.’

  ‘You’re using a lot of petrol.’

  Biggles grinned. ‘Fortunately I don’t have to pay for it. Would you care to come with us?’

  Gontermann failed to hide an expression of surprise at this invitation. ‘No thanks. I have work to do here.’ He walked away.

  ‘That was taking a chance, wasn’t it?’ murmured Ginger. ‘Suppose he’d said yes?’

  ‘I knew he wouldn’t. I fancy he has other ideas. A little bluff at the right time does no harm.’

  They still waited for a while with the weather slowly improving; for without good visibility anything in the nature of a sortie would have been a waste of time.

  ‘The two things I’m most afraid of,’ said Biggles as they stood by the machine, ‘is fog and ice. Ice could put us down wherever we happened to be and that could only mean a crack-up. Fog would make it impossible to find the airfield, and there’s nowhere else I’d care to risk a landing.’

  ‘There goes Gontermann,’ observed Ginger, noticing the manager’s car going down the road.

  ‘I wonder where he’s off to,’ said Biggles, thoughtfully. ‘He’s doing nearly as much running about as we are.’

  ‘Probably with the same object in view, old boy,’ put in Bertie. ‘There’s nothing like gold to set people on the trot.’

  ‘How right you are,’ returned Biggles. ‘Well, let’s get airborne. By the time we’re down the Strait we should be able to see what we’re doing.’

  ‘What exactly are you going to do?’ asked Ginger.

  ‘Perfectly simple. Fly down to gold island, confirm that the bullion is there and come back home. I shall grab plenty of altitude to make sure we don’t bump into anything solid. As long as there are no growlers in the bay by the beach where we shall have to land there should be no difficulty.’

  ‘Okay.’

  Biggles took off, and climbing steeply for height flew down the Strait, an unmistakable landmark. There was still a certain amount of low cloud or mist about, particularly in the valleys, but with a watery sun beginning to break through this was slowly being dispersed. With the machine up to eight thousand, the two islands they knew, gold island and the one from which the botanists had been rescued, were picked up without difficulty. With engines throttled back Biggles had begun a long glide towards the former when Ginger suddenly leaned forward to stare through the windscreen.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Biggles.

  ‘There’s somebody there.’

  ‘You mean—on the island?’

  ‘Yes. I can see smoke. Look! A little to the left of the knoll.’

  ‘You’re right,’ agreed Biggles, after a good look.

  ‘And I can see something else,’ went on Ginger. ‘Isn’t that a small boat, a rowing-boat, pulled up on the beach?’

  I’m afraid you’re right again,’ muttered Biggles. ‘What a nuisance. This knocks our scheme on the head.’

  ‘What do you make of it?’

  ‘Quite obviously Gontermann has left those two toughs of his on the island. With the possible exception of a party of Indians it couldn’t very well be anyone else.’

  ‘It could be Indians.’

  ‘No. That craft on the beach isn’t a canoe. It isn’t long enough. It’s a ship’s boat. I’d say it’s the Wespe’s dinghy.’

  ‘What was the idea of leaving the men there?’

  ‘Surely that’s pretty obvious.’

  ‘To carry on trying to find the gold.’

  ‘That would be one reason, no doubt. What could be more important, to prevent us from landing there and looking for the gold ourselves.’

  ‘They couldn’t stop us.’

  ‘No, but they could watch us. What it boils down to is, we can’t go near that gold while they’re there.’

  ‘They may not stay there.’

  ‘They’ll have to stay there until Gontermann comes to fetch them in the Wespe. They’re not likely to try to row to Punta Arenas in a dinghy.’

  ‘What are you going to do about it?’

  ‘I don’t know. This needs thinking about.’ By this time, still without using his engines, Biggles had turned away from the island.

  ‘They may not have seen us,’ suggested Ginger, hopefully.

>   ‘It doesn’t matter whether they have or not. They’ll hear us when I open up, as I shall have to, presently. One thing’s certain. There’s no point in landing on that island while they’re there. We wouldn’t be able to do anything and it might lead to argument, possibly fighting. That won’t get us anywhere except perhaps in a Chilean gaol.’

  ‘Then what are we going to do?’

  ‘I can think of only one thing. If we go near that island Gontermann will know for certain that we’re here to look for the gold. He suspects that already, but he’s had no proof of it so there still may be a doubt in his mind. I’d prefer to leave him in doubt, because once he’s convinced he could make things difficult for us at the airfield. We said we were going to collect some stuff Carter and Barlow left behind. That could be on the island from which we picked them up, so that’s where I’m going. We know we can get down there. If we’ve been seen that would tie up with the story we’ve told, the reason for our coming back here. If nothing else it’ll give us an opportunity to work out a new scheme.’

  ‘Do you think Gontermann is playing his own hand in this business or has he got someone behind him?’

  ‘It’s impossible to say. No doubt he’ll have a financial interest; but in view of the hint the Air Commodore gave us in that radiogram, that we might have visitors, there’s a chance that Russia or East Germany may have a finger in the pie. However, let’s not worry about that yet. We’ve plenty on our plate as it is, without getting in a flap about things that might happen. Tell Bertie we’ve had to change the plan and where I’m making for.’

  Ginger went aft to the cabin.

  The Gadfly, still gliding, was now circling over the place where it had landed to pick up Carter and his companion, easily recognizable by the snake-shaped glacier. After flying low over the water two or three times to make sure there were no growlers Biggles made a safe landing, and having taxied on to the beach, the same spot they had used on the previous occasion, switched off. They all got out. Biggles lit a cigarette.

  ‘Now what?’ inquired Bertie. ‘Bit of a bind, those blighters being there—if you see what I mean.’

  For a minute or two Biggles didn’t answer. Then he said: ‘Instead of standing here twiddling our thumbs let’s see if we can locate the remains of the Seaspray. Carter pointed out to me the place where she went aground.’

  ‘Suppose we did find her? What use would that be?’ asked Ginger, somewhat disconsolately.

  ‘If we took something home with us it would prove to Gontermann that we really came here to look for some stuff Carter and his pal had left behind. Anyhow, it could do no harm. Even if we found no more than a few pieces of wreckage it would prove to Mr Scott’s insurance people that the Seaspray has been lost. Moreover, if those two stiffs on gold island did spot us, and watched us come down, they’ll suppose they’ll know what we’re doing. After all, for all they know to the contrary the gold, or some of it, might have been aboard the Seaspray when she broke up.’

  So saying Biggles strode along the beach. It was no great distance to the rocks; a matter of a few hundred yards, which was why Biggles had not thought it necessary to leave anyone with the aircraft. The water was calm, with hardly a ripple.

  There was no difficulty in finding the spot where the Seaspray had met her end for small pieces of wreckage still lay about with odds and ends of her equipment and stores, although these objects would hardly have been noticed by anyone on the water. They lay between the rocks, or in pools between them, and may have been washed ashore by heavy seas after the survivors had made their way to higher ground. The actual spot where the vessel had struck was within a few feet of where the rocks gave way to sand, so that with a little luck she might have been thrown high and dry on the beach. Advancing to the edge of the rocks they could just see the hull lying on its side, in two pieces, in about fifteen or twenty feet of water. Biggles remarked that had the water not been so cold they might have dived down to her to salvage anything worthwhile. As it was, all they could do, as they were there, was cast about for anything the survivors might be glad to have.

  Almost at once Ginger picked up a small notebook that turned out to be a diary with Carter’s name on the first page. It was in a bad state, but the notes, having been written with a pencil, had not blurred, as would have been the case with ink, which would have run on coming in contact with water.

  ‘We’ll take care of that,’ said Biggles. ‘It can be dried, and Carter will probably be delighted to have it. What may be more important from our angle, I’ll show it to Gontermann so that he can see we really have looked for the wreck, and found it.’

  They continued the search for some time, but the only other object of interest they found was some sheets of paper between stiff cardboard covers held together by rubber bands. The whole thing had evidently been in a press, for it was stuck together in a mass. Examination revealed that between the papers were botanical specimens, leaves, moss and flowers. It was put with the notebook to be taken home.

  ‘That seems to be about the lot,’ decided Biggles. ‘We might as well be getting back.’

  ‘Just a minute,’ said Ginger, in a queer voice. ‘We’re being watched. Don’t look. Just go on pottering about.’

  ‘Tell us about it, anyway,’ requested Biggles.

  ‘I was looking round to see what the weather was doing and is my eyes passed over the ridge of the island opposite I saw a movement. I could swear it was a man. He’s lying down now so you can’t see him. Or he may have come over the skyline. I’m not sure which.’

  ‘That must be our friends from gold island—or one of them,’ answered Biggles. ‘They must have spotted us in the air, and seeing us come down decided to have a look at what we’re doing. It can’t be more than two or three miles from gold island to that island opposite. We know they have a boat, so it would be a simple matter to row across. When you think about it that’s what you’d expect them to do. No doubt they landed on the far side of the island and climbed to the highest point. How far away is it as the crow flies? Not much more than a quarter of a mile, if that. They’d be able to see us plainly from where they are. You’re quite sure you saw somebody, Ginger?’

  ‘Absolutely certain.’

  ‘What about Indians?’ queried Bertie.

  ‘No, definitely,’ replied Biggles. ‘In the first place, as they get their food on the seashore they could have no possible reason for climbing that hill opposite. Secondly, if they saw us, they’d be over here as fast as they could paddle to try to cadge some grub. That’s their reputation, and we know from our own experience they make a practice of it.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’ inquired Ginger.

  Biggles lit a cigarette. As he tossed the match aside a slow smile spread over his face. ‘How about giving them something to look at, something to think about? I see possibilities here.’

  ‘Out with it, old boy; don’t keep us in suspense,’ complained Bertie.

  ‘I think this is where we could usefully trail a red herring; one which would alter their ideas and perhaps bring them over here instead of getting in our way on gold island.’

  ‘I still don’t get it.’

  ‘Well, Gontermann knows the Seaspray went ashore on this island. That means his pals would know that. They haven’t been able to find the gold so there must be a lingering thought in their minds that Carter and Barlow lifted it, in which case it might well have been in the Seaspray when she went down. Do you follow me so far?’

  ‘Yes,’ answered Ginger and Bertie together.

  ‘Very well. If that was so, Carter would be almost certain to tell us about it when we rescued them. They wouldn’t just go home, saying nothing about it, leaving a few million quid lying on the sea floor to sink into the mud and be lost for ever. Right?’

  ‘Correct,’ agreed Ginger.

  ‘If those fellows opposite see us poking about here they’ll jump to the conclusion this is where the Seaspray went down, as in fact it did. They’re bound to w
onder why we should be so interested in a wreck.’

  ‘They may think we really are looking for Carter’s botanical specimens.’

  ‘Not on your life! They don’t think on those lines. As they’d see it, anyone who took chances to save a few pressed leaves would need his head examining. All they’ve got on their minds is gold. They’ll think it’s here, either in the wreck or on shore. If they see us digging, or probing about with a crow-bar, they’ll think—well, what would you think?’

  Ginger answered: ‘I’d think the Seaspray held together long enough for the gold to be carried ashore and buried in the nearest convenient place, which is this sand next to the rocks.’

  ‘Fine. Now you’re keeping pace with me. If we throw some sand about and then head for home what will the boys on the island opposite do—bearing in mind that we couldn’t carry all that gold in the aircraft?’

  ‘They’ll come over, flat out, to have a look at the yellow metal.’

  ‘Which would leave the way open for us to slip across to gold island and have a look at the real thing.’

  Bertie grinned. ‘Top hole, old boy. What a lad you are for bright ideas. How you think of ‘em beats me—absolutely.’

  ‘All right,’ said Biggles, briskly. ‘Let’s get busy. Ginger, slip along to the machine and fetch the spade and the crowbar. We might as well do the job properly.’

  CHAPTER 11

  RISKY WORK

  THE business of making a pretence to look for the gold was soon in full swing, Biggles probing the sand with the light crow-bar and one of the others digging at places suggested by him. For the benefit of the watchers on the opposite side of the channel some pieces of wreckage were collected from among the adjacent rocks, examined and then thrown down again, the purpose of which was to indicate that this was where the Seaspray ended her career. From time to time, without making it obvious what he was doing, Ginger surveyed the island opposite, concentrating on the spot where he had seen the figure move; but he saw no more of it. This, however, was not surprising, Biggles pointing out that the man, or men, should they both be there, would take good care not to be seen. The spot where this would be most difficult was on the skyline, where the movement had caught Ginger’s eye.