by W E Johns
Major Marling was still at Shansie when the squadron left Elephant Island, and there, presumably, he remains, the white father of his people. Lalla accompanied the squadron to India, having obtained his father’s consent to join the R.A.F.. He took with him a valuable collection of rubies, which were to be sold and the proceeds handed to the Red Cross—a contribution, as his father put it, from loyal friends in Burma.
Li Chi and his supporters, unwilling to change their way of life, elected to remain in the Archipelago. Apart from wishing to finish the junk for post-war work (and here Li Chi smiled his subtle smile) they would best help the Allied cause, he asserted, by collecting more rubber for shipment at a later date. It was possible, he added naively, glancing at Ayert, who was singing quietly as he sharpened his parang, that they might collect a few more Japanese heads at the same time. Biggles told him that if he would send word to India when the rubber was ready he would come and fetch it—but not the heads.
And with that they left their strange allies; one, a self-exiled Englishman, and the other a Chinese adventurer, two men poles apart who had been brought together by a common cause.
“As Li Chi says,” remarked Biggles, as the Mergui Archipelago faded astern, “it takes all sorts to make a war. There are probably thousands of men like Marling and Li Chi each fighting the war his own way. Some we shall never hear of. They may not deal the enemy a mortal wound, but they can set up a nasty irritation. They may not win big battles, but they may make it possible for others to win them.”
“Absolutely, old boy—absolutely,” agreed Bertie.
THE END
