28 Biggles In Borneo

by Captain W E Johns

  This left only one aircraft, the machine that had been under repair at the time of the second raid. All hands had been set to work to fill in the craters, but it was a long task, and work was still going on when the third raid had taken place. This was the attack that Algy and Ginger had seen from the air. In it, the last Beaufighter had been set on fire and destroyed.

  "Where was the Liberator all this time ? " asked Biggles at this stage of the story.

  Bertie broke the sad news that the Liberator had not come back from Australia. They had been expecting it every minute, but it had not come—which was just as well, asserted Bertie, or it would certainly have been destroyed. Nothing was known of it.

  "Which means," said Biggles grimly, "that we haven't a single machine here ? "

  "I'm afraid that's about it, old warrior," admitted Bertie sadly.

  "I can't understand why you didn't have serious casualties, particularly amongst the natives."

  Rex admitted that the native village had been pretty badly knocked about, but Suba didn't mind because new houses could easily be built. The absence of casualties was explained by the fact that there were caves running under the hill, although the existence of these was unknown to the white men until the raid had started, when the natives had fled to them.

  "I think that's about all," concluded Bertie.

  "It's enough to go on with, too," replied Biggles sarcastically. "I would go and get a dose of fever at a time like this," he added bitterly.

  "What with Japanese troops coming through the jungle, and air raids, it begins to look as if Lucky Strike is about washed up," put in Rex.

  "It may look that way to you," answered Biggles coldly. "Things aren't going to be easy, I must admit, but if this little yellow swine Yashnowada thinks he's going to knock us out—and that is evidently his intention

  —he's got another think coming. We must get a move on. Rex, you handle the natives ; set them to work filling in the bomb holes in case the Liberator turns up. Don't let the men work haphazard ; try to make a clear runway—we can mark it out with smudge fires if the Liberator comes. With or without it, we've got to get in touch with Australia to get some replacements. With some fighters, I still think we could hold this place indefinitely

  ; without them—well, as soon as the Japs realize that there's no opposition they'll come in at low level and blast the place off the face of the earth. We can expect them back pretty soon, anyway. Some of you go and look at the Cayman to see if there is any hope of getting it into the air. Rex, ask Suba to listen for drum messages that might give us the position of enemy troops. Tell the natives to make for the caves if there's another raid ; our lads had better shift all the stores into them. Get on with it."

  Ginger went outside with Algy. "Oh, for a bunch of Spitfires ! " he moaned. "With these bombers coming over here without escort we could give them the shock of their lives."

  Algy nodded. "A nice thought, but we haven't any fighters and we don't look like getting any," he said quietly. "It's no use kidding ourselves ; things are pretty serious. If the Liberator doesn't come back, and the Cayman turns out to be completely cheesed, we might as well start walking. Let's go and look at her."

  They walked over to the Cayman and found Flight Sergeant Smyth already there.

  "What do you make of her, Flight Sergeant ? " asked Algy.

  "I Won't say she'll never fly again, sir, but fixed as we are I wouldn't give much for her chance. The worst trouble is the undercarriage and a twisted airscrew. There's a hole in the hull, but that wouldn't matter unless a landing was made on water."

  Algy nodded moodily. "Well, you'd better see what you can do with her. We'll give a hand. For a start we'd better try to get her under the trees, or the Japs, if they come again, will scatter the pieces all over the aerodrome."

  The ground staff and most of the officers worked on the machine until noon, by which time the natives, under Rex's supervision, had filled in sufficient craters to form a fairly safe runway. A supply of poles had been cut to use as rollers, to get the machine to the trees.

  Ginger was snatching a mouthful of lunch when the distant hum of an aero engine sent him dashing outside, although a cheer from the mechanics gave him a clue to the truth.

  The Liberator was coming in, and men raced to light small fires to mark the runway.

  Knowing how much depended on it, Ginger held his breath while the machine landed, and gasped his relief when it ran in without mishap. He went to meet it as it taxied in.

  Angus looked down at him, his eyes wide with concern, for he had, of course, seen the bomb craters.

  "Get a move on ! " yelled Ginger. "What have you brought ? "

  "Petrol and oil," answered Angus. "What's been happening here ? "

  "Get down and I'll tell you," answered Ginger.

  In a few minutes the Liberator was the centre of furious activity as the oil and petrol drums were rolled out.

  Biggles appeared, his face still flushed with the fever. "Ginger, get that machine refuelled as quickly as you can," he ordered tersely. "Then get her under the trees out of sight until I decide who's to go to Australia."

  Ginger waited only long enough to hear the cause of the delay in the Liberator's return.

  There was nothing remarkable about it. The machine had been damaged by enemy fighters which it had encountered near the Australian coast, and Angus had decided to get the repairs effected at Darwin. These had taken two days.

  Ginger returned to the Liberator. He waited until the work of refuelling was complete, and then climbed into the cockpit to taxi the machine out of sight under its partly destroyed bough-shelter. Having started the engines, he was about to move forward when he noticed that the mechanics, who were still standing by the machine, were all staring into the sky. He guessed what was coming even as he pushed open the side window and shouted, "What is it ? "

  " Enemy bombers, sir," called the flight sergeant. "Twelve of them—coming in low."

  Now in moments of great peril the human brain is capable of its best efforts. Under the urge of self-preservation it co-ordinates itself with nerve and muscle to a remarkable degree. Thus was it at this moment with Ginger. Action was practically simultaneous with thought, and his movements were swift. He realized that if the bombers were in view of the airmen on the ground, the aerodrome must be in view of the enemy pilots, in which case they must already have seen the Liberator. Clearly, there was no longer any point in trying to get it under the trees. Even if it had not been seen it was impossible that the aircraft could escape damage from the bombs that would soon be falling—and the Liberator was the last possible link with Australia. If it were destroyed, no matter how hard Biggles. worked, the squadron would be rendered noneffective, to say the least of it. Obviously, the thing to do was to get it out of the target area.

  Even while these thoughts crowded through Ginger's brain he was roaring round into the runway. He had a fleeting vision through a side window of the airmen racing for cover, and of Bertie gesticulating frantically as he pointed to the sky ; then, with his teeth clenched, he was tearing along the runway. He couldn't sec the enemy machines ; nor did he try ; he was much too occupied with what he was doing.

  The first bombs fell before he was off the ground. He did not hear them coming, but he heard the roar of the explosions and felt the blast hit the machine. It was only by sheer strength that he kept it on the runway. The instant his wheels were off the ground he banked steeply, and missing the tree-tops by a matter of a few feet, he raced away over the forest. Not until he had got the aircraft on even keel did he try to see the enemy bombers, but they were behind him, so he was unable to see anything of them. By turning slightly he could see bombs falling on the aerodrome, so he roared on, not caring much about direction, but concerned only with getting out of the danger zone.

  Nothing happened. If the enemy bombers pursued him, which he did not think likely, he was unaware of it. Presently he began to think more clearly. The first point that struc
k him was, that it would be no use going back to the aerodrome—at least not unless he was prepared to circle for hours while the inevitable craters were filled in. And if he was going to be in the air for hours he might as well try to do something useful. It was then that the idea of trying to reach Australia first struck him. If he could get to Darwin the authorities might release some delivery pilots to take new Beau-fighters out—or fighters of some sort. Yes, he decided, that was the thing to do. If he could get some machines to Lucky Strike the whole position would be changed.

  The aerodrome could be defended, and even though the bombers continued to come over, the squadron could take heavy toll of them, and carry on as a thorn in the side of the enemy's lines of communication, as Malta was doing in the Mediterranean.

  The prospect thrilled him, and he reached eagerly for Angus's maps, still reposing in their locker. He had only one fear. The Japs had seen him go. They would guess that he was making for Australia because there was no British landing-ground nearer. Yashnowada, as soon as he received their report, would radio to every squadron in Java and other islands to cut him off. By night it would be an easy matter to dodge them, but in broad daylight it would not be so easy, and several hours must elapse before night fell. If he were intercepted, with his gun turrets unmanned, he would need more than skill to escape, so with the map on his knees he began climbing steeply for height as the first obvious precaution. At the same time he settled down to watch the sky as far as his limited field of view permitted.

  Half an hour passed and found him, as far as he could make out, alone in the sky, on a straight course for Darwin at an altitude of twenty thousand feet. He had a long flight ahead of him, and he did not want to use the oxygen apparatus unless it became necessary. Once, out of curiosity, he donned the radio headphones ; he picked up several messages, but they were, he supposed, in Japanese ; at any rate, there was nothing in English, so he put the phones back on their peg.

  Presently it struck him that every plane looking for the Liberator would patrol on a direct course between Borneo and Darwin, so he edged a little to the west, hoping in this way to dodge them, although the new course would take him over Java.

  One o'clock found him over the Java Sea, with the long blue shape of the island filling the southern horizon. He knew that he was bound to fly over it, or another of the Japanese occupied islands, which now stretched for thousands of miles from the northern tip of Sumatra to New Guinea. The gaps between them were negligible and hardly worth bothering about, so he decided to fly straight on. Anxiously, now, he watched the sky ahead, for he had apparently passed over the area affected by the monsoon, and the sky in front of him was clear turquoise blue. Once he saw a formation in the distance, but it was far below him ; watching the machines, he edged away ; the formation held on its course, and eventually disappeared in the west.

  By two o'clock the southern coast of Java was fading astern, and by three he was far out over the Indian Ocean. There were no more islands. The ocean, a lonely, limitless expanse of unruffled blue, lay before him. He was safe. At any rate he considered that the chance of encountering hostile aircraft was now remote.

  Hardly had the thought passed through his mind when far ahead on his line of flight he saw a flash. It was gone in an instant, but he knew that the spark of light could have been caused by one thing only—an aeroplane, banking. Who could be flying a plane in such a place, and why, he could not imagine. Watching the spot closely, for there was as yet no sign of an aircraft, he turned a little to the east to give it a wide berth. For five minutes he stared at the spot fixedly, but when the plane still did not appear he drew a deep breath of relief and turned his eyes ahead. His whole body stiffened when, a bare two miles away, he saw a plane at his own height. From the way it grew more distinct he knew that it was standing towards him, which meant

  that the pilot had seen him. Looking at the aircraft head-on he could not recognize the type, but whatever it was he had no desire to meet it, so he decided to try to outclimb it, as his best chance of escape.

  So concerned was he with avoiding hostile aircraft that it did not occur to him that the machine might be friendly, so his relief when, a moment later, he recognized a Fairey Fulmar was so great that he laughed aloud. A second Fulmar appeared, cutting across his bows, and he regarded them with no small curiosity. Then, suddenly, he guessed the answer to the problem of their unexpected appearance. The Fulmar was a two-seater fleet-fighter, which could only mean that an aircraft carrier was in the vicinity, for the Fulmars were too far from land to belong to a shore-based unit. One of the Fulmars came so close that he could see the pilot staring at him. He could not understand the interest. It seemed natural that as soon as the pilots identified the Liberator they would go their ways ; but it was soon clear that they had no such intention. Far from that, one of the gunners fired a burst of tracer across his nose. The pilot held up his hand in a signal that could not be misunderstood. It was an order to follow. Ginger noticed that he was wearing headphones, so he made haste to don his own. A minute later a voice was speaking in his ears : "Come along, Liberator, we want to look at you . . . Can you hear me, Liberator ? . . ."

  Ginger raised a hand to show that he understood, and turned obediently to follow. He was annoyed at the interruption because he was in a hurry to get to Australia, but he was in no condition to start an argument with one Fulmar, let alone two. The fleet-fighters took up positions on either side of him, and shepherded him like well-trained collies.

  Ten minutes later the aircraft carrier came into view

  on the southern horizon, and in another quarter of an hour Ginger was circling over it. He was not at all pleased at the prospect of having to put the big machine down on a steel deck, but there was nothing else for it, so he went in and made a reasonably good landing. His brakes soon brought him to a standstill. Airmen in dark blue uniforms ran out. Among them was an officer whom he took to be the duty officer.

  Ginger climbed down. "What's the idea ? " he asked in a voice that was by no means friendly. He still resented the waste of time.

  The officer grinned. "We just wanted to look you over."

  "Haven't you seen a Liberator before ? "

  "Plenty, but the pilots were not always white." Ginger frowned. He began to understand.

  "Do you mean that the Japs fly Liberators ? "

  The officer nodded. "Yes. They captured one or two in the Philippines." A puzzled look came over the officer's face. "You're not alone in that kite, are you ? "

  " I am."

  The officer's frown grew deeper. "That's a bit unusual, isn't it ? "

  "Yes, I suppose it is, but my squadron is an unusual squadron, and at the moment circumstances are even more unusual."

  The officer continued to look puzzled. It was plain that he was suspicious of a Liberator that operated over the Indian Ocean without a crew. "I think you had better come and have a word with the Old Man," he suggested.

  "Do you mind if I ask what ship this is ? " inquired Ginger.

  "Adelaide—Royal Australian Navy."

  Ginger followed the officer to the bridge, where he

  came face to face with an elderly, genial-looking, broad-shouldered man in captain's uniform.

  Ginger saluted. "Flying Officer Hebblethwaite, sir, Royal Air Force," he announced.

  "Captain Garnet. Sorry to pull you in, Mr. Hebblethwaite, but we can't afford to take chances. This is a queer place, and a queer time for you to be here, isn't it ? Queer idea, flying solo, too."

  "I think I had better explain, sir," said Ginger. "Yes, I think you had," answered Captain Garnet. Ginger told his story.

  CHAPTER XVI

  GINGER GOES BACK

  BIGGLES was worried. He had watched the Liberator's frenzied take-off with mixed feelings, for

  while he realized the purpose behind Ginger's action, he doubted his ability to run the gauntlet, solo, to Australia—assuming that that was his intention. Moreover, he had hoped to use the Liberator to take
detailed despatches to Australia, explaining his position and asking for instructions. The aircraft was his only connecting link. Now it had gone.

  There had been no time to ponder on this upsetting development at the moment. The enemy bombers had occupied his attention. For the first time they had come in at low level and there was no way of stopping them. In the circumstances the only thing Biggles could do was to take cover in the caves with the rest and so avoid casualties. Most of the stores, and the fuel brought by the Liberator, had already been carried in, which was, as Algy remarked, something to be thankful for. So the squadron, as well as the natives, sat under the hill while the ground quivered under the assault of high-explosive bombs. To have to sit and take it was a new experience for most of the members of Biggles's squadron, and there were glum faces as the bombardment proceeded without interruption.

  "Good thing Ginger got off," remarked Algy. "If he hadn't, by this time there would have been nothing left of the Liberator but splinters."

  Biggles nodded. "Yes. I was a bit peeved when I saw him go, but taking all the circumstances into consideration I think he did the right thing."

  "How's the fever ? "

  "Better, thanks—probably because with all this going on I haven't had time to think about it."

  "Ginger may come back when the raid is over."

  Biggles looked doubtful. "I don't think so. He'll have the sense to realize that it will be hours before we can fill in the craters."

  "Do you think we shall be able to hang on here ? "