"What about Biggles ? I "shouted Algy from the cockpit. " Where is he ? "
"I've no idea," replied Ginger. He got to his feet and took a look through a side window. All he could see below was a rolling sea of tree tops.
Turning back to Algy he went on. "Where are you making for ? "
"Nowhere in particular," answered Algy. "Give us a chance. I so nearly hit that perishing launch that I swallowed my tonsils. Where do you want me to go ? What am I to do about Biggles ? "
"He said he'd show up at the rendezvous, but he didn't," stated Ginger. "I don't know where he's most likely to be. You'd better get well away from that blighted river and I'll tell you what has happened. Let Angus take over for a bit. He knows all about it. Then I shall be able to talk to you and Bertie. We've got to do something pretty quickly, but until you know what the position is you won't be able to help."
"Does Angus feel fit enough to take over for a bit ? " asked Algy.
Angus said he did.
"Just keep cruising round in a wide circle," Ginger told him.
"I'll do that," agreed Angus, moving into the seat which Algy was vacating.
Algy joined Ginger and Bertie in the cabin. "Now, what goes on ? " he demanded.
In as few words as possible Ginger narrated all that had happened in Paradise Valley. "
We got Angus, and now we seem to have lost Biggles," he concluded wearily. "Now you know as much as I do you can form your own opinions as to where he's most likely to be.
We left him in the Doctor's house. Just what he intended doing after we left I don't know.
I suppose he couldn't say much for fear of showing his hand, but it was certainly his intention to turn up at the rendezvous. He didn't come, so he might be anywhere. It's no earthly use looking for him in that stinking jungle. What scares me stiff is the thought that he might have been captured. To make things more awkward there's a bunch of Indians prowling up and down the river bank."
"He might mark his position with a smoke signal," suggested Algy.
"He might, but I doubt if he'll dare to do that if he knows there are Indians about and that the launch is searching the river," replied Ginger dubiously.
"Something serious must have happened or he'd have been at the rendezvous," opined Algy.
"Absolutely—absolutely," murmured Bertie polishing his eyeglass.
"Well, what are we going to do about it ? " demanded Ginger. "We can't go on burning petrol indefinitely."
"It's dashed hard to know what to do for the best," brooded Algy. "Do you know if he intended pushing straight on home as soon as he had got Angus ? "
"I don't think so," returned Ginger. "He might have sent one of us home with Angus, but I'm pretty sure he wouldn't leave here himself without trying to get the rest of the Britishers out. In fact, he said so. He also said something about getting back the money they had put into the swindle. And on top of it all he was curious about the real racket which he swears is going on here." Ginger thought for a moment. "Come to think of it, it'
s quite possible that he deliberately hung back to have a look round before joining us, and in doing that got himself into a jam."
"Well, what do we do ? " asked Algy, looking at Ginger and Bertie in turn.
"I'm all for going down and pulling this cocky doctor's nose as long as a bally banana,"
said Bertie earnestly. "After all, I mean to say, who does the blighter think he is, keeping people in his dirty valley, and all that ? Infernal nerve. It's time somebody poked him on the nose. I'm flat out to do it, flat out like a cloud of steam—yes, by gad 1 What about it, chaps ? "
"It isn't going to be as easy as all that," warned Ginger grimly.
Bertie looked pained. "Here, I say old boy, don't tell me you're scared of the beastly scallywag ? " "It isn't one man. There's a bunch of them," reminded Fringer. "There's a bunch of us, too," argued Bertie. "Not a ery big bunch, of course, but enough to warm things up a it—if you see what I mean ? All we have to do is land ang in front of the house and make a frontal attack. hat's my idea—jolly good one, too. No messing about. an't go wrong. Every time a cocoanut."
1,
"Now you listen to me, you silly ass," requested Ginger curtly. "That valley's a death trap. Get that fixed in your jam-pot for a start. We're not dealing with wops, but with a pretty ropey bunch of ex-Nazis, unless I've inissed my guess. They'd shoot the machine to splinters before you could get to the bank, and where should we be if we lost the machine ? "
"Up the blooming creek without a paddle I suppose," admitted Bertie reluctantly. "Yes, I can see that. I'm no use at this sort of thing—no bally use at all. Too much organizing about it. Never was any use at organizing. You tell me what to do."
"Yes, let's do something," urged Algy. "We're wasting time and fuel."
"All right. I'll tell you what I suggest," answered Ginger. "They're looking for us down the river, because that's the way they assume we've gone. Very well. We'll go on up for a few miles—make a wide detour round the actual valley and strike the river, say, five or six miles upstream. Where we land will depend of course on what sort of place we can find to get down on. Having got down, two can stay with the machine while the other two walk down to find out what's happened. How's that ? "
"Sounds top hole to me," asserted Bertie.
"Suits me," concurred Algy. "The only thing I can see against it is, what happens if Biggles turns up late at the rendezvous ? He'd probably wait there, expecting me to come."
"There's nothing to stop you from taking off and having a look there from time to time,"
Ginger pointed out.
"Okay then, let's go," concluded Algy. "I'll take over again." He went forward and relieved Angus at the stick
Angus came aft, and Ginger went forward and took the spare seat beside Algy.
For a little while Algy allowed the Navigator to crui on an easterly course ; then he began to swing round in wide turn that was checked only when the nose of the flying boat pointed west. Presently the river came into vie , afar off. Algy throttled back to half throttle and began a. long shallow glide towards it. Ginger took the binoculars from their pocket under the seat. Focussing them, he could just make out, far to the south, the contours of the valley, with its squalid huts scattered about the open area between them.
At his suggestion, for he realized that to be seen or heard would be fatal to their plan, Algy edged a little farther to the north, where the river offered several long reaches any one of which appeared suitable for their purpose provided it was free from obstructions.
As far as the general depth of the water was concerned he had no great fear, but he was well aware of the risks they took every time they touched down on water not previously explored. Still, as Biggles had more than once remarked on similar occasions, there was always something that had to be taken on chance.
Algy was also uncomfortably aware of the responsibility that now rested on his shoulders. Normally it was Biggles, as captain of the ship, who accepted the onus. Now he, as deputy leader, would have to bear the burden.
He flew low up and down the river, over a stretch of perhaps two miles, several times before making his choice. No one offered advice unless it was asked for, as occasionally it was ; for example, when it was a matter of scrutinizing a piece of water for possible obstructions. This, obviously, was a matter wherein four pairs of eyes were better than one pair. Fortunately there was little to be feared from rocks, as the river did not flow through rocky country. The greatest danger lay in striking a submerged, or partly submerged, tree, for these were all too plentiful, particularly in the shallows near the banks, where they had been deposited by the frequent spates. There were islands, but as these could be seen they could be avoided.
At last Algy was satisfied. He selected a long smooth reach into which a small tributary flowed, and cutting his engines, glided down. His face was a trifle pale, and the muscles of his cheeks tense with strain, as he dropped slowly towards his objective.
"Yell if you see anything," he requested.
But his fears proved groundless. The keel of the flying-boat hissed viciously as it gashed the placid but muddy water. The aircraft settled down as it lost way, and came slowly to rest, rocking gently, not far from the confluence of the tributary.
Algy mopped imaginary perspiration from his brow. "Thank goodness for that," he muttered.
Ginger was making a quick survey of the bank for danger. But the trees marched as stiff as a row of exclamation marks right down to the water's edge, and their shadows hid everything more than a yard or two back. The river was, in fact, a green canyon, punctuated by strips of light where the glaring tropical sun poured down. The steamy atmosphere was redolent with jungle odours, weedy and dank. "I think it's okay," he said.
"Who's going down the river ? " asked Algy, reaching for the throttle, for by this time the aircraft was beginning to drift with the current.
"Have you any grub on board ? " asked Ginger. "Of course."
"In that case I vote we have a bite before we do anything. Then I'll take Bertie with me down to the valley. You're in charge of the machine so you'd better stay with it. Angus needs rest, and a good dose of quinine. I know my way about the valley pretty well now, so I ought to go."
"Fair enough," consented Algy, and opening his port engine sent the machine surging towards the bank—or rather, towards the little bay formed by the estuary of the tributary.
The aircraft ran a few yards. Then its nose tilted sharply. Very slowly it listed until the port wing nearly touched the water.
"What the dickens has happened ? 1" cried Ginger.
"We're aground," answered Algy, in a voice in which incredulity and alarm were blended. Then he nodded sadly as the explanation struck him. "I must be out of my mind,
" he said dully. "I should have known there would be a mud bar across the mouth of a tributary that runs through soft ground. There always is."
XIII
A STAGGERING ANNOUNCEMENT
FOR a full minute Algy sat and contemplated the treacherous river with hostile eyes, feeling that he had been tricked. It was, he knew, a stroke of bad luck, but he did not claim this as an excuse for his misfortune. "I suppose I might as well switch off," he remarked, in a voice flat with resignation. He suited the action to the word. The air-screws stopped. Silence fell.
"Let's see if we can rock her off," suggested Ginger. "It sometimes works."
By this time Bertie and Angus had ascertained what had gone wrong. They agreed that rocking might do the trick, so the plan was put into operation forthwith. It consisted of shifting the weight of the passengers from fore to aft, and vice versa, as quickly as possible—a proceeding which produced from Bertie some facetious remarks that did nothing to improve Algy's frame of mind. When, to mark the time—as he explained—
Bertie burst into song, choosing the not inappropriate kindergarten one about "oranges and lemons," Algy desisted with a snort of disgust. "Let's stop this nonsense," he muttered angrily.
The trouble, as Ginger pointed out, was that there was not enough room in the cabin for the scheme to be effective.
"But look here, I say, if it rains the jolly old river will rise again and float us off 1" cried Bertie in a burst of inspiration.
Algy glowered. "If it rains! Can you make it rain ? "
Bertie looked a trifle astonished at the question. "Why no, old boy," he admitted frankly. "Can you ? "
"I—can—not," answered Algy emphatically.
"But it might rain," protested Bertie.
"It might snow, but it's thundering unlikely," sneered Algy. "Are you suggesting that we just sit here and wait for it to rain ?
" Why not ? "
"Well I don't want it to rain," asserted Algy positively.
Bertie adjusted his eyeglass. "You don't want it to ? "
"No. I'll bet when this river comes down in spate it brings all the muck imaginable. I don't want to have to take off through a sort of Sargasso Sea of dead trees." "Definitely not. I'm with you there, old lad, absolutely,
every time," agreed Bertie warmly.
"Oh, stop rotting," put in Angus. "Let's all get in the stern and jump together. I've known that to work in a small boat."
"We might try it," consented Algy.
They all walked to the tail end of the cabin, and at a word given by Algy they began jumping in unison.
Nothing happened, except that Bertie's eyeglass somehow got jerked out of his face and took a little time to find, during which period the operation had to be suspended.
"Do you know what I think ? " said Bertie, polishing the recovered monocle.
"Something terrific, I'll bet," returned Algy scathingly. "We're not jumping high enough,"
announced Bertie in the voice of a judge delivering a verdict.
Algy tapped him on the chest. "Do you know what would happen if we jumped any harder ? "
" No—what ? "
"We should go through the bottom of the boat into the drink—that's all."
"Then it's no use—no use at all," acknowledged Bertie. "Silly ass I am, I didn't think of that. But you needn't be so bally peevish, old boy. After all, I'm only trying to help."
"If you really want to help, do you know what you can do ? "
"Tell me," requested Bertie. "Just tell me and it's as good as done."
"You can go and take a running jump into the river," said Algy, with brutal frankness.
Bertie looked shocked. "But I say, old boy, are you serious ? "
"We've one chance left to get this ship afloat," declared Algy. "The water is still falling so by tonight we're likely to be high and dry. We've got to get some weight out of her, and as we don't want to chuck the equipment overboard we shall have to jettison some human freight. With one or two bodies over the side she should lift several inches. That should be enough. After all, I didn't shove her into the mud very hard."
"Well, if that's all you want, laddie, nothing could be easier," averred Bertie. He sniffed.
" In any case I don't like the fug in here." And before the others realised his intention he had opened the cabin door and taken a flying leap into the turgid water. It closed over his head, but he was up in a moment, striking out in a strong overarm stroke for the bank.
"Look out ! Watch for crocs ! " said Algy tersely, whipping out his pistol.
His fears did not materialize, however. Bertie reached the bank without mishap ; but the final few yards were made through a few inches of water and apparently several feet of mud. As a result he looked not unlike a crocodile himself, at least, as far as colour was concerned, when he pulled himself up on the bank. Having reached a suitable spot he turned and waved, to be greeted by three grinning faces.
Bertie Seemed suddenly to realize the mess he was in. "Look at me " he cried plaintively.
"We're looking," jeered Algy.
"You're an ungrateful lot I " called Bertie sadly, and going back to the water he started to wash the worst of the mud from his person.
Algy returned his attention to the aircraft. That the relief from Bertie's weight had had an effect was instantly apparent, for the aircraft rocked much more easily.
"One more should about do it," said Ginger. "As I've got to go ashore I might as well go."
He paused, however, to take off his jacket and throw it on the floor. This done he took a header and swam to the land, wasting no time on the way. As he remarked to Bertie when he joined him, nothing encourages fast swimming more than the thought of a crocodile in the same water. When he turned to look at the machine he saw to his great satisfaction that this time the trick had succeeded. The aircraft was afloat and drifting slowly with the stream.
After that it was all plain sailing. Algy allowed the aircraft to drift well clear of the danger spot, and then, starting his engines, he felt his way cautiously to the bank, where those already ashore made the machine fast. Finding a suitable spot they washed the worst of the mud out of their trousers, after whi
ch they foregathered to partake of the food Algy was bringing ashore.
Now all this had taken up a good deal of time, and it was after noon by the time Bertie and Ginger were able to set off on their foray into the valley. And before they had gone far it became evident that progress was going to be slower than they had expected, for at this part of the river there was no track to make the going easier. They were compelled to force a passage through sheer jungle. Naturally, they chose the easiest way, but they were handicapped by having always to keep the river in sight at their left hand. Neither needed telling that without any other
features to serve as a guide, in the labyrinth of lianas and fallen trees through which they groped, a few minutes would be enough to see them hopelessly lost.
Just what progress they were actually making it was impossible to judge. According to Ginger's recollection of the terrain from the air, the distance to the more or less open mesa of the valley was about three miles. Sometimes, when they became involved in an exceptionally difficult patch of matted vegetation, he feared they might not get through at all. At the best the advance was never more than two miles an hour, and that only for short distances. Bogs and fallen trees occurred with monotonous regularity to hinder them.
Ginger's concern at this loss of valuable time grew with each succeeding hour, and more than once he feared that the project would turn out to be a colossal blunder. When he had made this suggestion he had assumed that there would be a track of sorts ; and he could not forget that the struggle would have to be repeated when they made the return trip.
That it would have to be made in daylight was certain. It would be madness to attempt it in darkness.
The end came when blue sky appeared through the trees ahead, a welcome relief from the usual dense shadows. Ginger looked at his watch. The time was half past three. And he was about to pass this unwelcome piece of information to his companion when Bertie caught him by the arm with his left hand and at the same time pointed with the other.
"What is it ? " whispered Ginger, coming to a halt. "There's somebody there."
35 Biggles Takes A Holiday Page 14
