Biggles Flies South

by W E Johns

  Chapter 11

  The Horror in the Pool

  The bats did not pursue the airmen once they were in the open. For a minute or two they hung over the mouth of the cave like a dense black cloud, making a curious twittering noise; then, as suddenly as they had appeared, they streamed back into the cave as if they were being drawn by an invisible vortex, leaving the invaders of their domain to survey the scene that lay spread out before them. This they did without speaking.

  The hill on which they were seated was one of several that sloped down to a central plain, in the manner of a basin. There was nothing unusual about these hills; indeed, they were of a monotonous uniformity, consisting entirely of rock which had been burnt by the sun to a pale, slaty grey, and worn by erosion into the most fantastic shapes. It was no doubt due entirely to the natural circular water-shed thus formed that the centre of this depression was in startling contrast to the rest. It was, briefly, an oasis, and, judging be the verdancy of the palms and other foliage, one of particular fertility. In places the palms had been cleared, leaving open spaces in which flourished what appeared to be corn.

  From the centre of this refreshing prospect rose an impressive, dome-shaped hill, clothed for about half its height with palms and giant cacti; but then, due possibly to the failure of the essential water, they thinned out quickly, leaving the top of the dome bare of vegetation, so that the village which surmounted it stood out in high relief.

  ‘Village’ is, perhaps, a misleading word, for it was at once clear that most of the buildings were in ruins. For the rest, it consisted of a solid bank of dwellings set in the form of terraces, bleached grey by the sun so that the small square incisions in the structures that served for windows stood out sharply. There was no movement of any sort, which suggested that the place was uninhabited; indeed, the whole atmosphere suggested desertion, desolation, and decay.

  ‘Well, there it is,’ murmured Biggles at last.

  ‘The Lost Oasis,’ breathed Kadar.

  ‘It can’t be anything else, can it?’

  ‘No. Nothing is shown here on the map.’

  Biggles stood up and brushed the worst of the dust from his clothes. ‘It’s a pity Algy isn’t with us,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid we are in a hopeless mess, and, frankly, I don’t see how on earth we are going to get back, but it wouldn’t be so bad if we were all together. We’ve got to make an attempt to find Algy as quickly as we can, that’s certain, if for no other reason than that he probably thinks we are dead, whereas we do at least know that he is all right. At any rate, he has enough food and water to last him for some days. The thought that worries me is that he might start off to look for us, in which case he will probably get lost as we did, but without being so lucky as we were in finding water. In fact, I think it is almost a certainty that he will try to find us. Therefore, as I say, we ought to try to get back. All the same, I don’t know about you fellows, but I am passing out for want of food, and to start trying to find our way back to the machine in our present state would be dangerous. That village, or whatever it is over there, can’t be more than two or three miles away, so I suggest that as a first precaution we go over to it in the hope of finding some sort of food. There will certainly be dates on the trees, and if it is corn growing in those fields, which is what it looks like, then we shall at least be able to keep body and soul together. There should be water there, too. If there isn’t, then the only thing we can do is to go back through the cave to where we know there is some. I think we shall have to go back that way in any case. Bats or no bats, it will probably be easier to get through the cave than climb over the top of this hill, which, when the sun gets up, will be pretty nearly red-hot. I’m no mountaineer, anyway. What’s your idea of things, Kadar?’

  ‘I agree with you. We must find food before we do anything else. It is dreadful to get weak in the desert: one so soon gives up. I’ve had some of it, so I know. Let’s get across to the oasis and provide ourselves with some dates, if nothing else, and then try to find our way back to Algy. I don’t altogether agree with you about the cave, though. This hill behind us is a high one, and it must command a wide view. I would suggest that we attempt to scale it in the hope of seeing from the top the place where we left the machine. If there is no way down the other side, then we shall have to go through the cave whether we like it or not. And as far as getting back to civilization is concerned, I may be wrong, but I have a feeling that the Arabs sometimes come here, although the place may be known only to one or two.’

  ‘What makes you think that?’ asked Biggles sharply.

  ‘One thing only: the jewels I told you about. They must come from just such a place as this, and there can’t be many such places.’

  ‘Ah, you mean they are found in the tombs?’

  ‘Yes; jewels are not likely to be found anywhere in Egypt today except in tombs.’

  ‘Well, that’s hopeful, anyway,’ murmured Biggles. ‘But come on; if we are going across to that village the sooner we start the better, while it is still comparatively cool.’

  They set off without delay, but they had not gone far when a crash somewhere above them made them look back. A great stone was bounding down the hill towards them, followed by a number of smaller ones that had evidently been disturbed by its progress.

  ‘Look out!’ shouted Biggles, throwing himself flat under an overhanging ledge, and the others crowded into the narrow haven with him.

  The stone whirled over their heads and went plunging down into the depths.

  ‘Was that an accident, or is that animated mummy we saw in the cave trying to be unpleasant?’ muttered Biggles thoughtfully, as he crawled out of the refuge.

  They all stared back up the hill, but there was no sign of life, so, with an occasional apprehensive glance behind them, they resumed their march.

  It was soon clear that Biggles had been wrong in his estimate of the distance to the village, for what with the steepness of the hill, and the detours they were often compelled to make round difficult places, they were an hour reaching the bottom, and a further twenty minutes getting to the nearest of the palm-trees; yet the village still looked as far away as when they had started.

  ‘I’m afraid we shall have to alter our plans,’ declared Biggles. ‘By the time we get to that village it will be too late to think of looking for Algy today. I suggest that we leave the place until later on. We shall have plenty of time to explore it. I can see lots of dates, so let’s get a good supply and start back. Another point is, the side of the hill we came down is still in the shade; when the sun gets round a bit, later on, it will be nearly too hot to touch.’

  ‘Yes, I think that’s the best plan,’ agreed Ginger. ‘Let’s get together and muster up all our stores before we start any exploring.’

  While they had been talking Kadar had gone on ahead through the trees, and now an excited call sent the others forward at a run. They saw the reason for Kadar’s excitement even before they saw him. Set amid the luxuriant palms was a large pool of clear water, gleaming like a mirror.

  ‘This is fine,’ declared Biggles enthusiasically. and, lying down at the edge, they all had a long, refreshing drink.

  Ginger began stripping off his clothes, an operation which did not take him many seconds, and with a joyous yell he plunged in. But hardly had he struck the water when Biggles, who had sat down to take off his shoes preparatory to following suit, leapt to his feet as white as death.

  Ginger’s head came to the surface. He was grinning all over his face, and he burbled with his lips to show his contentment.

  ‘Come out!’ Biggles’s cry was almost a scream.

  The expression on Ginger’s face altered to one of alarm in an instant, and he struck out swiftly for the bank. He knew Biggles too well to ask questions before obeying, and it was fortunate for him that it was so.

  Biggles darted to the water’s edge, and whipping out his automatic, endeavoured to get the sight on a long black shadow that was shooting through the water i
mmediately behind Ginger, the displacement of water caused by its passage making a wide ripple on the surface. But he dared not shoot for fear of hitting Ginger, so he could only jump from one foot to the other in his agitation.

  Ginger reached the edge of the pool a mere three yards ahead of the thing that was following him. Biggles grabbed him by the arm and literally dragged him out of the water and flung him clear. Then he sprang back himself, while Ginger scrambled madly over the sand away from the death-trap into which he had so lightheartedly jumped.

  With the majestic stateliness of a battleship, an enormous crocodile surged up on to the bank and waddled forward several paces on rigid legs before it stopped, its great jaws open, and its crested back arched. And there it stood, blinking with its little eyes at the hastily-retreating airmen, and its massive tail gently stroking the surface of the water.

  ‘Great heaven! What a horror!’ gasped Biggles, for the creature was a good twenty feet long. ‘How in the name of goodness did a thing like that get here?’ He turned wondering eyes to Kadar, who had turned a horrible yellowish-green under his brown skin.

  ‘I should have guessed it,’ he answered severely. ‘This is quite a common thing. The crocodile played a big part in the religious ceremonies of the ancients in this part of the world, as is shown by many of the old inscriptions and sculptures. Models made of gold have also been found.’

  ‘Well, that puts an end to the bathing party,’ muttered Biggles disgustedly, sitting down and fanning his face with his helmet when he saw that the crocodile attempted to come no farther ashore. ‘Shall I shoot the brute?’ he inquired, looking at Kadar for advice.

  ‘Please yourself. You won’t kill him with that pop-gun, though, and there seems to be no object in wounding him. Perhaps it would be better to save what few bullets we have for emergencies. Now that we know that this ugly customer is here it can do us no harm.’

  Ginger was putting on his clothes with trembling fingers, regardless of the water that still glistened on his body. He was still pale from shock. ‘Let’s go back and find Algy,’ he said bitterly. ‘Scorpions in the sand, crocodiles in the drinking water, bats in the cave— I shall have bats in the belfry if this goes on.’

  Keeping a watchful eye on the monster, Biggles walked farther along the pool and filled the water-bottle with fresh water. ‘Let’s get some dates,’ he suggested dispassionately.

  ‘We shall probably find they’ve got poisonous bugs in them,’ grumbled Ginger. Nevertheless, he swung himself up into a palm that had been blown over at an acute angle by some long-forgotten storm. Not without difficulty, he crawled into the fronds, and from there tossed down several bunches of dates into the waiting hands of those below. This done, they ate as many as they needed, and, each carrying a bunch of the fruit in his left hand, they began retracing their steps.

  Ginger turned to where the crocodile was still watching them with an expression suggestive of disappointment on its face, and placing his thumb to his nose, extended his fingers. ‘That to you,’ he sneered.

  Thereafter they began the long climb back up the hill. They started in the shade, but before they reached the entrance to the tombs of the dead the sun was striking the hillside with its fierce rays. A quick survey disclosed a not-too-difficult way to the top of the hill, so they scrambled on towards the serrated crest that cut into the sky like a row of broken yellow teeth. Biggles was first to reach the top, and, regardless of the heat of the rock, he dropped quickly on his hands and knees when he saw the terrifying abyss that yawned before him. Peering cautiously over the edge, he saw that they were on the top of the cliff immediately above the fissure that gave access to the pool inside, a fact which he was able to ascertain from the position of the ‘forest of petrified fungi’, and the faint trail of footprints leading from it. All around lay spread out a wild jumble of sun-parched hills, valleys, and gorges, destitute of life, unnerving in their stark barrenness. It reminded Ginger, as he crawled up and looked over the edge, of an enlarged photograph he had once seen of the moon’s surface.

  Yet in the distance could be seen the end of the rocks and the beginning of the open desert, and Biggles pointed it out. ‘Look!’ he said. ‘There is the palm we nearly hit as we came down. I don’t see any palms elsewhere in that direction, so it must be the place.’

  ‘I can’t see the machine,’ declared Ginger.

  ‘You couldn’t expect to,’ Biggles told him. ‘It was so smothered up with sand that it would be hard enough to see it from a hundred yards, never mind five or six miles. Well, that is the direction we must make for.’

  ‘Yes, that is the palm, without doubt,’ put in Kadar. ‘You can just see the wadi we walked down, this side of it.’

  From their bird’s-eye view it was, in fact, possible to see the tortured earth in the form of a map, and thus follow with the eyes several routes that would take them back to the place they were so anxious to reach. Biggles took out a pencil, and on one of the few remaining pages of his note-book commenced making a sketch-map, rough, but sufficient for the purpose of finding their way back to the machine. This did not occupy many minutes, and, the task completed, he backed away from the chasm and stood up.

  ‘We can’t get down the face of this cliff, that’s certain,’ he said, ‘so, whether we like it or not, we shall have to go back through the cave.’

  ‘What about the bats?’ asked Ginger, a trifle nervously.

  ‘We shall have to take our chance with them,’ observed Biggles. ‘By this time they may have settled down again and be as docile as they were when we first went into the cave. It was that bag of skin and bones that set them on to us, I’m sure.’

  ‘There it goes now. Look!’ cried Ginger excitedly, pointing a quivering forefinger at a small, brown, ape-like creature that was scrambling down the hill towards the oasis far beyond the entrance to the tombs.

  ‘I hope he—or she— falls into the pond,’ wished Ginger viciously.

  ‘Perhaps it thinks it is following us, not knowing that we came back up here,’ suggested Kadar.

  ‘It doesn’t matter much what it thinks so long as it keeps out of our way,’ said Biggles. ‘Frankly, I am glad it is out of the way; there is no knowing what mischief it might be up to if it found us in the cave. The place is unpleasant enough as it is, without any added complications. Come on.’

  They made the best speed possible down to the entrance, and the gruesome knowledge of what it held was in some degree compensated for by the cool shade within. Just inside the entrance Biggles mustered his remaining spills, which he had thrust into his pocket when they fled before the bats, and, in spite of Kadar’s protests, augmented them with some of his newspaper clippings. Thus provided with means of illumination, they started on their unpleasant journey.

  Reaching the tombs, Biggles pointed, without speaking, to the walls, which were festooned with countless sleeping bats, all hanging head downwards. Placing his finger on his lips, he went on through the chamber, and breathed a sigh of relief when they reached the other cave on the opposite side. Along this they hurried, stopping occasionally to light fresh spills, and at length, without incident, they reached the silent pool, now looking indescribably beautiful in a slant of pure white sunshine. There was no sign of the scorpions, which apparently visited the pool only by night— unless it had been, as Kadar had, suggested, that they were seeking human flesh —so, after a fortifying drink, they proceeded on the last part of their journey.

  With the map to guide them, finding their way through the desolation became a comparatively simple matter, although they took care to mark their trail by dragging their feet through the sand, and sometimes building small cairns with pieces of loose rock.

  An hour’s steady plodding saw them at the end of the wadi, and in their anxiety they traversed it in quick time.

  ‘I don’t see him,’ said Biggles anxiously, as they approached the machine. Then, raising his voice, ‘Hi! Algy!’ he called.

  There was no answer, so they br
oke into a run. Panting, they reached the Tourer, still exactly as they had left it, and stared about them.

  ‘Algy!’ shouted Biggles again, but only the echoes replied.

  Ginger ran to the cabin door and opened it. ‘He’s not here,’ he said. Then he went inside. Presently he returned. ‘The rifle’s gone,’ he said, ‘but nothing else seems to have been touched.’

  They called again several times, but there was no answering hail, and at length Biggles squatted on one of the undercarriage wheels in the shade afforded by the wings.

  ‘It is as I feared,’ he said quietly. ‘He’s gone. No doubt he went to look for us.’

  ‘Maybe he isn’t far away, and will come back presently,’ suggested Ginger optimistically.

  “That is the best we can hope for,’ returned Biggles briefly.

  Chapter 12

  Trapped

  All through the heat of the late afternoon they waited, and experienced for the first time the full force of the desert sun. The sand shimmered and the rocks quivered like live things. The wadi became a furnace in which the tortured airmen could only cower under the machine, keeping life in their fast-drying bodies by taking frequent sips of water. As the sun moved round, so they moved with it, in order to keep in the narrow shade provided by the Tourer’s wings, augmented by the dust-covers which they brought out of the cabin. Even so, the sand on which the sun had been playing was too hot to touch with the bare hand, and they were compelled to spread about their spare kit and sit on that. Once Ginger, driven to desperation, bolted into the cabin, but he was soon out again, declaring that the heat inside had nearly shrivelled him to a cinder.

  ‘Whether Algy returns or not, we shan’t be able to stand much of this,’ declared Biggles, during one of the many silences.

  ‘Our skins would soon peel off, and we should probably go blind,’ Kadar informed them with disconcerting frankness. ‘I have seen—’

  ‘Don’t tell us what you’ve seen,’ interrupted Biggles. ‘Leave us to guess. It shouldn’t be difficult.’