by W E Johns
‘I get plenty trouble,’ grumbled the guard, obviously torn between fear and the temptation to make some easy money.
Holding the notes in his left hand, Biggles took out his automatic with the other. ‘Which is it to be?’ he asked evenly.
The man hesitated only for a few seconds. He made a quick reconnaissance of the road, such as it was. There was no one in sight. He held out a hand towards the notes.
Biggles flipped off several and gave them to him. ‘Bring Captain to me here,’ he ordered. ‘Go with him, Laon.’
The guard took a bunch of keys from his pocket and followed by Laon went inside.
While they waited Biggles said to Bertie: ‘Governments that underpay their employees deserve the sort of untrustworthy servants they usually get. Men like this wretched fellow will nearly always take a bribe; so probably would we if we had to live on his pay. I don’t like bribery, but there are occasions when, if it will save violence, it’s the easier way to get what you want.’
The guard, and Laon returned, bringing Mac with them.
‘Losh, mon, but I’m glad to see you,’ said the Scot.
‘Thanks for sending Laon over to let us know what was going on,’ answered Biggles. ‘We haven’t any time to waste, so let’s talk fast. Tell me, do you want to stay here?’
‘Of course I don’t, but rather than get wrong with the Burmese Government I thought I’d better stick it out until my owners got in touch with Rangoon and settled this daft business.’
‘Your owners know nothing about it.’
‘I sent them a telegram.’
‘It was never dispatched.’
‘Why not?’
‘Yomas stopped it. Here it is. I thought that might happen, so I called at the post-office on my way here and frightened the truth out of the clerk.’
Mac swore.
‘If you’re not to be stuck here indefinitely you’ll have to get away under your own steam,’ Biggles told him. ‘That’s how it is. What are you going to do?’
‘If I break gaol I’ll never again be allowed to trade along the coast.’
‘And if you stay here, and that crook Yomas gets a conviction against you on this trumped-up charge of smuggling, you’ll be finished here anyway; so I don’t see what you have to lose by pulling up the Alora’s mudhook and slipping away while the going’s good. Yomas isn’t here, but I don’t know how soon he’ll be back.’
‘I see what you mean,’ said Mac thoughtfully.
‘I’m sorry about this. I’m afraid I’m to blame.’
‘How do you make that out? Yomas has had it in for me for some time.’
‘But he wouldn’t have dared to go as far as this but for your association with me. He’s not really concerned with you. It’s me he’s after. He must have found out that the stores you were buying were for me. By putting you under arrest he thinks he’s cut my supply line.’
‘But what’s the idea. What’s he got against you?’
‘I’ll put it in a nutshell. Feng, the man who saw you find the sovereigns, is here, with a junk, looking for the rest. He knows why I’m here. It’s the only explanation of his behaviour. I’m pretty sure he’s found out that the sovereigns were put aboard the Vagabond and that she was lost in these waters. We’ve already clashed with him. He wants us out of the way. He’s got Yomas on his side, but how far he’s taken him into his confidence I don’t know.’
‘So that’s the way the wind blows,’ muttered Mac. ‘What are you going to do?’
‘I shall carry on. Don’t worry about us. We shall manage. It’s you I’m worried about. After this I don’t expect you to unload the stores on Chang Island as we arranged. Feng is there now, so I shan’t be going back, anyway. When I leave here I shall make for Kampong Island, our other rendezvous.’
‘I’d just come from there when this happened. You’ll find your stores in the sand under the last hut at the western end. It includes six jerricans of petrol.’
‘Capital. That’s grand news.’
‘I’ve also got aboard the Alora the stuff intended for Chang Island. I bought some of it here. As it included things I don’t usually carry, Yomas must have guessed who it was for. What shall I do with it?’
‘I’ll take it off you—or as much as I can carry. But what are you going to do?’
‘What would you suggest?’
‘Yomas is away somewhere to the north. Why not pull out while you have the chance? I imagine Yomas’s launch is faster than the Alora, but reckoning on you getting a start of at least some hours, you should be off Penang before he catches up with you. You’d be out of Burmese territory, so the Alora would be safe. From Penang you could get in touch with your owners in Singapore. If you’d rather leave the Alora here I could fly you down to Penang.’
‘I’ll no’ leave my ship.’
‘That’s up to you.’
‘I’ll get her away before Yomas thinks up some more devilment,’ decided Mac.
‘Fair enough. Laon tells me your dinghy is still on the beach. He can row you out and stay with you. I shan’t want him again. Better still, he can tow my aircraft over to the Alora, so that I can take those stores off you without having to start my engines. The less noise we make the better.’
‘That suits me. What are we going to do about this fellow?’ Mac jerked a thumb in the direction of the guard.
‘I’ll lock him inside his own gaol. I don’t think he’ll make a fuss. He might find it hard to explain how he got the money in his pocket.’
When Biggles took the keys, and the man realized what was intended, he protested, but it was only a half-hearted demonstration and at the finish he accepted his predicament with oriental resignation. The keys were left in the outside door.
On the way to the beach Biggles said: ‘There’s something you can tell me, Mac. On Chang Island we found one of the Vagabond’s lifebuoys. It had been thrown high and dry by a storm at some time. We couldn’t find a wreck, so I can only conclude it drifted in to where we found it. Do you happen to know from which direction the currents run to Chang Island?’
‘The general flow all through the islands is from the north. The seas swing round the Bay of Bengal; when they hit land they come straight down the Malay Peninsula.’
‘Would Kampong Island be on that line?’
‘Bound to be.’
‘Fine. That’s just what I wanted to know. I hoped the lifebuoy would give us a clue.’
They reached the waterfront. A full moon was rising out of the sea like a gigantic silver balloon, throwing a flare-path of what looked like molten metal across the face of the water. A few people could be seen moving in the distance, but the beach was deserted. Laon launched the dinghy.
‘There’s going to be a fine old stink about this,’ predicted Mac gloomily.
‘Forget it,’ advised Biggles. ‘I’d wager the Burmese Government knows nothing about your arrest. Yomas won’t talk about it. He may be an official, but at the moment he’s trying to get some money for himself. You get away and argue about it later.’
Mac said: ‘Laon can take me out to my ship. It may take a little while to raise steam. You get along to your plane. When I’m aboard Laon will come over and give you a tow. While I’m getting up steam you can take in the stores I’ve got for you.’
‘That seems to be the thing to do,’ agreed Biggles.
So they parted, Mac and Laon in the dinghy making for the Alora, Biggles and Bertie walking along the beach towards the aircraft. Coming opposite they waded out and, joining Ginger and Chintoo in the cabin, narrated briefly what had happened and explained the present plan.
Presently Laon arrived in the dinghy. Ginger pulled in the light anchor that had been dropped to keep the aircraft steady and made fast the tow line. Chintoo got into the dinghy with Laon to take an oar and the Gadfly began a slow journey across the bay to where the Alora lay with a column of smoke rising from her funnel.
Mac was waiting with the stores ready to be handed down. By th
e time the several items had been transferred to the aircraft the beat of the ship’s engine announced her readiness to move off. The chain rattled as the anchor was weighed. The dinghy was hauled aboard. Mac’s head appeared above the rail.
‘Right,’ he called. ‘Where shall I see you?’
Biggles answered. ‘I shall go to Kampong Island, but if I run short of petrol I shall have to run down to Penang. If you haven’t left I’ll see you there.’
Mac waved acknowledgment. ‘Fine. Stand clear. I’m awa’.’
The aircraft was pushed out of danger. Aboard the Alora the engine room bell clanged. Her propeller churned, and the Gadfly rocked gently in her wake as, showing no light, she moved slowly towards the open sea.
‘Well, we’ve done what we came to do,’ said Biggles, as those in the aircraft watched her go, leaving a trail of liquid silver as moonlight played on the disturbed water.
‘And where do we go from here?’ inquired Ginger. ‘If it’s Kampong Island we may burn a lot of petrol trying to find it in the dark, even with a moon.’
‘I shan’t attempt it,’ answered Biggles. ‘We can afford to sit here and think it over. A cup of coffee and a bite to eat seems indicated.’
‘Shall we be all right here?’ questioned Bertie dubiously. ‘I mean to say, in all this bally moonlight we must be as conspicuous as a swan on a duckpond.’
‘What else can we do? I don’t like it any more than you do, but where else can we go? There’s no cover anywhere. Moreover, if we start up we shall attract the attention of everyone on the waterfront. I don’t feel like spending the night on the open sea, anyway. I don’t think anyone is likely to interfere with us or it would have happened already. Still, we’d better mount a guard in case a kabang or a sampan comes along without looking where it’s going. We don’t want anyone barging into us.’
‘At the present rate of progress we’re going to be an awful long time finding those perishing sovereigns,’ prophesied Ginger lugubriously.
‘We’ll get cracking tomorrow,’ promised Biggles. ‘You might drop the anchor. We don’t want to wake up and find ourselves stuck in the mud somewhere on the beach.’
CHAPTER 12
YOMAS TRIES AGAIN
Ginger, asleep on the cabin floor with one of the recently loaded bags of rice for a pillow, was awakened by the murmur of voices near at hand. As full consciousness banished sleep he raised himself on an elbow to listen. The gibberish of an unknown language floated in through portholes blue with moonlight. He looked at the watch on his wrist. Half past three. Chintoo would be on guard duty. He was talking. To whom? Apparently it was some person known to him or he would have raised an alarm.
Actuated more by curiosity than anxiety Ginger got up. Stepping between the recumbent figures of Biggles and Bertie, he went forward to the bulkhead door which had been left open to let in some air, for the humid heat thrown off by the sun-soaked water, absorbed during the day, was stifling. In the cockpit he found Chintoo talking to someone over the side. A bamboo mast and a foul smell of bilge and rotten fish told him a kabang was alongside.
‘Who is it?’ he asked.
‘The Salones who took Laon to Chang Island, Tuan.’
‘What are they doing here?’
‘They have just got back. Seeing the plane they came to ask if Laon is here with us.’
‘They have been a long time.’
‘The sails of their boats are no use unless the wind is dead behind.’
‘Why are they here? Why haven’t they gone back to their tribe?’
‘They have come for their wives,’ Chintoo explained. ‘These men find a pearl. They came here to sell it. Their wives came with them to spend the money on things they need. No doubt they were cheated. They do not understand money. Laon must have paid them well to take him to Chang Island. Now they find their wives. Then they will go back to their people.’
Biggles’s voice came from the cabin. ‘What’s going on?’
‘It’s the Salones who took Laon to Chang Island. They’ve just got back.’
‘Don’t let them go. I want to talk to them.’
Biggles appeared, shirt open, hair tousled. To Chintoo he said: ‘Ask them where they last saw that junk.’
Chintoo put the question. ‘It went to Chang Island and anchored off the beach.’
‘Ah! That’s what I expected. Now ask the Salones where their main party is now.’
‘Their people are at King Island.’
‘Is that anywhere near Kampong Island?’
‘Not far away.’
‘Do they know of any wrecked ships at the northern end of the islands?’
It took some time to get an answer to the question, the Salones discussing it between themselves. ‘They say there are many wrecks, some very old,’ informed Chintoo at last.
‘Any wooden ships? Iron ones are no use.’
Another delay. Yes, there were some wooden ships. They knew of two on Elephant Island, one on Shark Island and one on the rocks at Kampong.
‘I suppose it’s no use asking them for details,’ Biggles said to Ginger in an aside. ‘But it’s something to know there are wrecks there. I can’t think of anything else to ask them. All right, Chintoo. Would they like some cigarettes?’
‘Yes, Tuan.’
‘Fetch half a dozen packets,’ Biggles told Ginger.
While he waited Chintoo went on talking to the Salones. He looked at Biggles. ‘They say not land on Shark Island, which is very close to Kampong.’
‘Why not?’
‘They say there is a man there who shoots at anyone who lands.’
‘Why?’
‘He is mad.’
‘Is he white, brown, yellow...?’
‘Brown they think. They are not sure.’
‘That’s a new angle,’ said Ginger, who had returned with the cigarettes in time to hear this conversation. ‘Tigers, crocodiles, snakes, now a lunatic. We shall soon have had the lot.’
Biggles handed the cigarettes to Chintoo, who passed them on. The Salones then went on towards the beach. Ginger was not sorry to see them go. The smell of their boat nearly made him sick.
‘Now we see the advantage of having an interpreter with us,’ said Biggles. ‘How right Mac was. Without Chintoo we’d have missed an interesting piece of information.’
‘About a maniac on Shark Island? Jolly good.’ Bertie spoke.
‘There’s more to it than that. According to Mac the dead Salone he found, wearing the sovereigns, had been shot. That’s been a puzzle to me all along. Who would shoot a Salone, and why? Except on the rare occasions when they find a pearl, they’re not worth a bad penny between ’em.’
‘What you mean is, the Salone may have been shot by this alleged lunatic on Shark Island.’
‘That’s the thought that occurred to me. Anyway, it’s useful to know that if we set foot on Shark Island we’re liable to be shot.’
‘Do you believe this?’
Biggles shrugged. ‘It sounds a bit far-fetched, but the Salones should know. Why make up such a tale?’ He looked at his watch. ‘Half past four. I don’t think it’s worth while trying to get any more sleep. I’m wide awake for the day. It’ll be light by six. By the time we’ve had a wash and some breakfast we might move off to locate Kampong Island. With stores there, and some on board, the only thing we’re likely to be short of is petrol.’
‘Tell me something, old boy,’ requested Bertie. ‘According to these Salone lads there’s a wreck of a wooden ship on Shark Island.’
‘What of it?’
‘If all else fails I imagine we shall go to have a dekko at it.’
‘Well?’
‘How do we find out if there really is a crazy bloke there? I mean to say, do we just toddle ashore and let him have first crack at us?’
‘I wish you wouldn’t choose awkward moments to ask awkward questions,’ remonstrated Biggles. ‘Let’s take one thing at a time. How we tackle Shark Island, should we find it necessary to
go there, will depend largely on the size of the place, and—’
‘Just a minute,’ cut in Ginger, cocking an ear as the saying is. ‘Listen. Can you hear what I can hear?’
Through the silence that followed, from some distance away beyond the curve of the bay, came the exhaust noise of a motor.
‘That’s an oil engine,’ declared Ginger. ‘I haven’t noticed many craft in these parts equipped with’ them. But I remember one. Yomas. Could he be coming back?’
Biggles frowned, eyes probing the direction from which the sound was coming. ‘I suppose it could be, although I didn’t reckon on it so soon. But on this jaunt it doesn’t do to reckon on anything. If it is Yomas the first thing he’ll see is that the Alora has gone. That won’t improve his temper. He’ll also see us and guess who was responsible. We don’t want any more trouble with him if it can be avoided, but if he catches us here there’s likely to be plenty. We’d better be ready to move fast. Ginger, get the anchor in.’ So saying Biggles dropped into his seat with his hands on the controls.
In a matter of minutes a launch, white in the moonlight, had rounded the point and turned into the bay.
‘It’s Yomas,’ muttered Biggles. ‘Confound the fellow. Why did he have to choose this moment to come back? He’s seen us, too,’ he went on, as the launch altered course a trifle to head straight for the aircraft. ‘I don’t think we’ll wait for him.’ His left hand moved to start the engines, but to the surprise of everyone the vessel suddenly swung round and made for the shore.
‘He’s changed his mind,’ said Bertie.
‘It won’t be for long if I know anything,’ returned Biggles grimly. ‘He’ll change it again when he finds out what has happened at the police-station. I’d say that’s where he’s going now, to check if Mac is still here.’
‘He’ll be hopping mad when he finds he isn’t,’ asserted Bertie cheerfully.
‘We’d better not laugh too soon,’ said Biggles seriously. ‘He may have a card up his sleeve. Keep your eyes open for the next move.’
