by W E Johns
“What are the Japs doing now—I mean, how are they disposed?” asked Biggles.
“Four remain on the launch to guard it. The others are doing what the beasts always do—eating and drinking, looting and destroying.”
“Have they posted sentries?”
“I did not observe any. Why should they trouble to post sentries here? What have soldiers to fear from a handful of native workmen armed only with swords and spears?”
Biggles smiled faintly. “There are five of us now. We should be able to handle a simple operation like this. But I want one thing to be clearly understood. If we attack the Japanese here none must be allowed to escape to report our presence in the country. If that happened we should find it difficult, perhaps impossible, to get out. The failure of the Japs to return must be attributed to hostile natives.”
Said Lalla grimly: “If we can seize the launch I promise you that not one of them will reach the coast. My foresters will hunt them down one by one and cut them to pieces.”
“That suits me,” returned Biggles. “As a matter of fact, we could do with that launch ourselves. I have ideas about it. But let’s get mobile, before the devils cut your father to pieces.”
“Why did you come here?” asked Lalla curiously.
Li Chi answered. “They came to see your father about the scheme which we discussed some time ago.”
Lalla nodded. “Ah! I understand.”
Biggles beckoned, and dropping on all fours began to make his way through the standing rice towards the bungalow. The others followed. Nothing more was said. In five minutes they were all at the far side of the field, lying flat in the lush growth, with Shansie village in plain view. Facing them at fifty paces, across a square compound of sun-baked earth, level and open except for an occasional tree, was the bungalow. The sides of the square were occupied by palm-thatched houses of primitive design but good workmanship. With the exception of Major Marling, who had been lashed to a tree close by his own front door, the only living people in sight were Japanese soldiers. A number of dead natives, presumably servants, lay where they had fallen. The enemy troops were standing about without any sort of order, some of them drinking, some eating food which they held in their hands, watching sinister preparations which, under the direction of an officer, were being made near the prisoner.
A small fire had been lighted. Into it the point of a native spear had been thrust.
Laughing, the officer spoke. Biggles heard this, but not understanding the language he looked at Li Chi and raised his eyebrows.
“They know about the ruby mine,” translated Li Chi. “That, no doubt, is why they are here. Major Marling has refused to tell them where it is located. They will torture him until he does.”
“Where precisely is the launch?” Biggles asked Lalla.
Lalla pointed. “There, beyond the bungalow. You can’t see it because the river flows through low ground.”
Biggles spoke to Ginger. “Take Ayert with you and work your way round the back of the buildings to the launch. You ought to be able to take the guard by surprise. Scupper them, grab the launch, and stay on it. Your job then will be to prevent anyone from getting aboard. The general idea is to get the enemy between two fires. We ought to drop half this bunch at the first rush. Get going. If possible I’ll wait till I hear you shooting before I open up, but if they start on Marling I shall have to cut in. Get cracking.”
Li Chi explained the manoeuvre to Ayert, who grinned, showing his yellow teeth, and followed Ginger, who was now crawling away, taking care to keep well within the rice.
Biggles lay still, watching the scene in front of him with cold hostile eyes. He had heard a lot about Japanese methods of waging war. Now he was confronted with an example, and its effect on him was to induce a feeling of ruthlessness, as though he were dealing not with human beings, but with some form of dangerous vermin. His fear at the moment was that the Japanese would begin work on their helpless captive before Ginger was in a position to attack the launch. And this, in fact, did happen. Five or six minutes after Ginger had left the enemy officer drew the spear from the fire and examined the glowing point critically. It was clear from his manner that the next operation was going to provide him with considerable pleasure.
“So this is how the swine interrogate their prisoners?” muttered Biggles through his teeth. ‘My God! It makes me go cold when I think that some of our fellows may have been treated like this. Well, although he doesn’t know it, that little rat has finished his career as question master. For the first time in a long while shooting a man is going to give me the greatest satisfaction. This show has gone on long enough. Pick your man, and when I sound the gong, let drive.” He raised his rifle, snuggling the butt into his shoulder.
The officer approached his victim while the men, still eating and drinking, gathered round to form an appreciative audience.
Biggles’ rifle cracked.
The Jap jumped as though propelled by springs under his feet, throwing the spear high into the air. Landing, he spun round, staggered a little way and sprawled in the dust. Two of the spectators fell as the rifles of Li Chi and Lalla spoke. Biggles went on firing, quickly but deliberately, to take advantage of a situation that he knew could not last long.
So far it was evident that the enemy had no idea of where the shots were coming from, and after the first shock of surprise had passed none of them tarried to find out. There was a general rush for cover, in the nature of a stampede; but before this was achieved three more were down. Another, limping, cried aloud in pain and fear as he stumbled on after his companions, who did nothing to help him. The survivors disappeared into, or in the region of, the bungalow.
At this juncture shots from behind the building announced that Ginger and Ayert were in action, although what was happening at the launch could not of course be seen.
Biggles sprang to his feet. “Come on,” he called, “let’s finish the job.”
Lalla raised his whistle to his lips and blew a succession of short blasts.
“What’s the idea?” demanded Biggles.
“That should bring our men into the fight,” was the answer. “They won’t be far away.”
This proved to be correct. A big man, sarong clad, dark-skinned, swinging a parang, dashed out of the forest yelling like a dervish.
“That’s Malong, my foreman,” said Lalla, and called to him. More natives appeared from various points.
Biggles did not wait to see what happened. He was anxious about Ginger and the launch.
Followed by Li Chi he ran on, dashing across the open spaces between the huts, all the time working towards the rear of the big bungalow. One or two shots were fired, but they were wild and did no damage.
“They’ve lost their heads,” said Biggles.
“They’ll lose their heads, literally, when Ayert and Malong get amongst them with their parangs,” prophesied Li Chi without emotion. “The Japs have lost their leader; the Shansians have found one. That will make a lot of difference.”
As it turned out, Ginger and Ayert were not in any need of help. When Biggles and Li Chi came into sight of the launch they were crouching behind the low bulwark. Seeing them, they stood up. Two Japs lay dead on the river bank—the head of one some distance from the body.
“I see Ayert has been busy with his razor blade,” remarked Biggles in passing. To Ginger he called, “Where’s the rest of the guard?”
“The other two dived overboard and made for the bungalow. I wounded one of them,” answered Ginger.
“Lalla and his men will take care of them,” said Li Chi. “It will probably be a gory business so I suggest we leave them to it.”
As if to confirm this statement shouts and cries came from the vicinity of the bungalow.
Ayert, parang in hand, raced away in that direction.
“Yes, it sounds as if Lalla’s boys are mopping up,” said Biggles. “As far as the Japs are concerned, I shan’t saturate my handkerchief with tears on their account.
They asked for what they’re getting. Let’s go and see how the big white chief has fared.”
By the time they reached the compound the only sounds were those of pursuit. They found Major Marling rubbing chafed wrists as he spoke to his son, who stood beside him and had apparently just cut him free. He seemed no worse for his unpleasant adventure, and very little perturbed. But his expression, as his eyes surveyed the compound, where with cries of lamentation the bodies of the slain servants were being carried away by women, was grim.
“Barbarians,” he muttered savagely. “These Japanese call themselves soldiers. Barbarians, that’s what they are.” He turned to Li Chi. “Did you see the way they used my people before they killed them?”
“No,” answered Li Chi softly.
“Prodded them with their bayonets. By God! I’ll make them pay for this.” With a visible effort Major Marling resumed his composure. He turned to Biggles. “I don’t know who you are, sir, but I thank you for your timely intervention, he said stiffly. “Things were just beginning to look decidedly nasty when you opened fire. Well, the devils are now getting what they deserve. Did you see the way they were swilling my brandy? Scandalous behaviour ! But come in, come in, and I’ll see what I can do in the way of hospitality. Lalla, try to get hold of any servants who are left. Malong will take care of the pursuit. I expect the devils have turned my house into a pigsty. No matter—we’ll soon have it cleared up. I must apologise for this reception, gentlemen.”
“Don’t mention it,” returned Biggles dryly, winking at Ginger who was regarding their host with curiosity and not a little surprise, for he did not fill the picture he had imagined.
What he imagined does not matter. Major Marling was, in fact, a man of between fifty and sixty years of age, of medium height, slim—one might say dapper. He was still a good-looking man in spite of the fact that his hair was snow white. His voice was crisp, brittle; he was obviously accustomed to being obeyed without question. He was dressed in a European flannel suit of semi-military cut, with white buckskin tennis shoes on his feet.
Apparently he became conscious of Ginger’s scrutiny. “What are you staring at, my boy? Don’t you know it’s rude to stare?” he asked sharply—so sharply that Ginger flushed.
“Yes, sir,” blurted Ginger.
“I should think so, by God!” snapped the major. “But what are we standing here for? Let’s get inside.” He led the way into the house.
CHAPTER VIII
DECISIONS
MAJOR MARLING was right about the bungalow being a pigsty. Signs of the brief Japanese occupation were everywhere apparent. Not only had cupboards, chests and other receptacles, been ransacked in a frenzied search for loot, but much of the furniture had been wantonly smashed. However, some natives of both sexes appeared, and under the direction of one of their number proceeded to tidy up. Major Marling clapped his hands and gave an order, as a result of which, after a short delay, refreshments were brought.
“It appeared that they were about to do you a personal injury when we arrived, sir,” said Biggles.
“That was undoubtedly the intention,” asserted the major. “The rascals had heard about my rubies. I have some very fine ones, you know. Apart from these there is some very valuable jewellery that belonged to my wife. That confounded officer wanted to know where I kept the valuables. I wouldn’t tell him—not me. No sir.”
“If they had learned about the rubies that would be sufficient reason for the raid,” opined Biggles. “The question is, how did they learn about them?”
“No idea—no idea at all,” answered the major. “My people are absolutely trustworthy. If it comes to that, they seldom go down the river.”
Biggles accepted a drink and looked at Li Chi. “You may have been indirectly responsible,” he remarked.
Li Chi raised his eyebrows.
“You knew about the rubies,” Biggles pointed out. “So, presumably, did Ayert, since he came here with you. Did you ever speak of them when you returned to Elephant Island?”
“We may have done.”
“Then Pamboo may have overheard you talking. I’m beginning to wonder how much that fellow does know. One spy in a camp can learn a lot if he has the run of the place.”
Li Chi admitted the truth of this.
“What brought you fellows here, anyway?” demanded Major Marling. “I don’t encourage visitors, you know. I see by your uniforms that you’re in the Air Force. Had a forced landing, perhaps?”
“No. We made a special trip to see you,” said Biggles.
Li Chi explained the object of the visit. “Of course, this raid has altered the entire situation,” he concluded.
“Why has it?” asked the major curtly.
“I imagine you won’t stay on here now, after what has happened today,” observed Biggles.
Major Marling flared up. “And why not, sir? What the deuce do you take me for? Do I look the sort of man who would bolt at the first spot of bother—eh?”
“No,” conceded Biggles. “But in view of what has just happened it may be supposed that you will have more unwelcome visitors at Shansie. I imagined—”
“Imagined what, sir?” broke in the major indignantly. “My place is with my people, so here I stay. There’s nothing more to be said about it.”
Biggles shrugged. “That’s up to you, sir. I’ve nothing more to say. Sorry I raised the subject.”
“There’s another reason why I should stay,” declared the major. “You want more rubber, don’t you?”
“Yes—if you can get it.”
“Of course I can get it.”
“That’s fine,” returned Biggles. “But I can’t see that it is going to be easy. You’ll have more Japs here. They’re bound to send another party to find out what has become of this lot.”
“I shall be ready for them. They won’t catch me napping twice. No sir.”
“Then the only problem that remains to be solved is this. How are we going to maintain contact with you? I’m thinking particularly of the rubber. I question whether your people will be able to get down to the coast and it’s unlikely that we shall be able to get up the river a second time.”
“The enemy may not find it easy to discover what has happened to their first raiding party,” argued the major. “All traces of the visit will be removed.”
“But the fact that you are British will be enough to warrant your arrest.”
“I may find it expedient to take steps to conceal my nationality—and I should have no difficulty in doing that.”
“How are you going to dispose of the launch?”
Major Marling rubbed his chin. “Yes, that’s a bit of a poser,” he admitted. “No use trying to sink it. The river here isn’t deep enough to cover it.”
“In that case we had better take it with us when we go,” announced Biggles. “As a matter of fact I could probably find a use for it. Anyway, by using it we should make much faster time home than if we used the kabang. I understand the launch has a burden of fifty tons. We could take that much rubber with us if you feel inclined to let us have it.”
It was Li Chi’s turn to look at Biggles with askance. “Are you thinking seriously of trying to take that vessel through the enemy forces stationed at the estuary? Tamashoa’s headquarters is at Victoria Point, at the mouth of the river.”
“If we start fairly soon we should be at the estuary just before dawn, the darkest part of the night,” answered Biggles evenly. “The usual river mist at that hour should also help to provide us with cover.”
“The Japanese will hear the engine even if they don’t see the launch.”
“What of it? They’ll be expecting the launch back, won’t they?” Biggles smiled. “The last thing to occur to them will be that it has changed hands.”
“Suppose we are challenged ?”
“You mean—from the shore ?”
“Yes.”
“You speak Japanese?”
“Yes.”
“Very well, you
can answer.”
“And say what?”
“Anything you like. Say that we have orders to move to a new berth. By the time inquiries have been made we should be well out in the strait.”
Li Chi smiled his Oriental smile. “I once fooled a British gunboat like that. It might be done.”
“Then let’s try it.”
“It’s an audacious trick,” put in Major Marling.
“In my experience the more audacious the scheme the more likely it is to succeed,” returned Biggles. “It’s the little things that go wrong—things within the limit of the enemy’s imagination. What does exercise my mind is not getting out, but how we are to get back should occasion arise. We ought to have a line of communication with Shanshie. A landing ground for aircraft would be the ideal thing, but I’m afraid the river here is too narrow, and winds about too much for a flying boat to get down on it.”
“I haven’t a landing ground at the moment because the last thing I wanted here was any of those noisy devils’ contraptions that you call aeroplanes,” said Major Marling. “But no doubt something could be done.”
“What have you in mind?” asked Biggles curiously.
“By digging a trench I could drain the paddy-fields to provide a hard level surface; if that is what you want. It would mean cutting the rice, but that doesn’t matter. Alternatively I could break through the river bank just above here and flood the fields to a depth of two or three feet. Years ago we used to have serious floods, but by building an embankment we have been able to keep the river in its bed. A charge of dynamite would soon alter that.”
Biggles looked pleased. “That’s excellent, sir. It’s all we should need. The machine I’m using at the moment for communication work is an amphibian, so I don’t care whether the airfield is land or water.”
