Sandy looked round. 'Hi, don't touch that! ' he shouted. Ìt's puke.'
`What's puke, anyway?' inquired Ginger.
`You touch it and you'll know—and you'll never forget,' returned Sandy. 'It stings like fury. Stinging-nettles are balm compared with that stuff.'
Ginger went on thoughtfully, a trifle resentful that South Sea islands were not living up to the reputation with which he had credited them.
Another hour of steady walking, the last part accompanied by a heavy shower of rain, brought the party once more to the region of coconut palms. The natives stopped and put out their torches. One of them spoke quickly to Sandy.
`They say the bay is just ahead through this palm-grove,' he translated.
Ì'll go forward and reconnoitre,' said Biggles, and disappeared between the towering boles of the palms. He was soon back. 'They're quite right,' he said. 'The schooner's there, about a hundred yards from the beach. There's a light on her, but I can't hear a sound, so I don't know whether the crew is on board or not. I can see a bit of a village a little way along; they might be there.'
Ì should say Castanelli will be on the boat, and the boys in the village,' said Sandy. 'The boys would come ashore if Castanelli would let them, to drink brandy.'
`Brandy?'
Ì mean native brandy—they make it out of the coconut flowers.'
Ì see. Well, it doesn't matter. I'm not standing any nonsense from that swine Castanelli.
It's no use mincing matters with fellows of his kidney. If he wants trouble he can have it.
There are some canoes on the beach, so I propose taking one and going over to the schooner to demand Shell-Breaker. In fact, we can all go in one canoe. Ginger and I will tackle Castanelli. You, Algy, guard our rear in case his boys are about. And you, Sandy, had better remain in charge of the canoe. Tell our boys to stay where 41
they are until we come back.' When he had finished speaking Biggles began to move forward towards the sea, which was soon seen shimmering through the palms.
There was no sign of life as they finally emerged from a dense shade of breadfruit-trees near the beach. A fire smouldered near the village; only this and the schooner riding at anchor on the bay revealed that human beings were in the vicinity. Silently they made their way along the beach to where three rather dilapidated canoes were lying, and launched the one that appeared to be in the best state of repair. For a moment or two it floated on the moonlit water with hardly a ripple, and then, under the impetus of the paddle Sandy had picked up, it forged towards the schooner, leaving behind it a wake that gleamed like living fire. Nobody spoke as the canoe came quietly under the schooner's counter. The only sound was the soft drip of water from Sandy's paddle.
Biggles reached up and swung himself aboard. Ginger and Algy followed him. Sandy remained in the canoe. 'Stay here, and keep your gun handy; if you have to use it, be careful, or you may hit one of us,' Biggles told Algy, and then walked towards the companion.
`Who's that?' roared a voice, as they reached the bottom of the steps.
Biggles opened the door of the cabin from which the voice came, and was met by the reek of tobacco-smoke and brandy. The yellow light of an oil lamp was half smothered by the fumes. A cheap deal table occupied the centre of the cabin; on it was a chart which Castanelli had apparently been studying. He rose slowly to his feet, staring incredulously at Biggles and Ginger standing in the doorway. Then, ripping out an oath, he thrust the table aside. `What in thunder do you want?' he snarled.
Ì've come for that Rutuona boy you've got aboard,' answered Biggles curtly.
Òh, you have, have you?' grated Castanelli, panting with fury.
`That's it,' nodded Biggles. 'Are you going to hand him over or do we take him?'
Ì'll see you
,' began Castanelli.
Biggles cut him short. 'All right—that's enough,' he said. `We'll take him. Go and find him, Ginger.'
42
Ginger turned and walked along the narrow corridor, shouting the boy's name. He was answered almost at once by a weak voice from the direction of the stern. He found a door and tried it, but it was locked. 'Are you in there, Shell-Breaker?' he called.
`Yes, in here,' came the voice.
Ginger put his heel against the lock and, bracing himself against the far side of the corridor, kicked out with all his strength. The door burst open. A foul stench assailed his nostrils, but he could see nothing, for the place was in darkness. Striking a match, he saw a native boy facing him. He looked weak and emaciated. 'Are you Shell-Breaker?' asked Ginger.
`Yes—me Shell-Breaker.'
`Good! ' Ginger told him. 'I've come to take you away. Come on.' He walked back down the corridor with the boy following him.
Ìt's all right, here he is,' he told Biggles, who was still standing at the door of Castanelli's cabin, now holding an automatic in his hand.
Castanelli was mouthing like an animal, spitting out the most blood-curdling threats.
Ìf I have any further trouble with you, you blackguard, I'll close your foul mouth for good and all,' said Biggles coldly. 'Stay where you are. You show your head on deck and I'll knock it off.' He turned to Ginger. 'Get the boy into the canoe,' he ordered.
They went up on deck and found Sandy staring towards the beach, where a canoe was just being launched by several shadowy figures. 'Looks like Castanelli's crew coming back,' observed Sandy. 'What shall we do about it? They'll make trouble.'
`No trouble,' said a small voice from the water, near the side of the canoe.
Looking down, Ginger saw the smiling face of Full Moon. 'What are you doing here, you little monkey?' he asked.
Ì show you,' said the girl, and disappeared under the water like a fish.
Ìnto the canoe, everybody,' ordered Biggles. 'We'll get back to the beach.'
By the time they had pushed off, the other canoe was 43
already moving rapidly towards the schooner. Castanelli appeared at the rail of the ship and, seeing the other canoe coming, shouted something.
`What did he say, Sandy?' asked Biggles, for Castanelli had used a language unknown to him.
`He told his boys to sink us.'
Ìs that all? Well, let them try it.'
The battle which appeared imminent did not take place, however. The schooner-bound canoe, in accordance with Castanelli's order, swung round to intercept the other, but when it was still several yards away a commotion occurred which those in the other canoe could not at first understand. There was a sudden splashing in the water, a sharp crack of breaking wood, and the canoe capsized, throwing its occupants into the water. A peal of girlish laughter floated across the water above the guttural cries of the Solomon Island boys.
`Ta-ta-to-ta. Full Moon Sink canoe,' chuckled Shell-Breaker, and slid into the water.
Ginger watched for him to reappear but did not see him. `My gosh, Sandy, you were right when you said these people were like fish,' he remarked.
They left Castanelli's crew swimming towards the, schooner and went on to the beach.
When they reached it they found Full Moon and Shell-Breaker waiting for them.
`Good! ' said Biggles. 'I think that settles our business, so we may as well start back.'
Several natives had appeared from the direction of the village, but they were disposed to be friendly, and after a short conversation with Shell-Breaker they returned to their huts.
Biggles led the way back to where their own boys were waiting for them, Shell-Breaker's appearance causing a minor sensation.
Before starting on the return journey Sandy distributed some biscuits and chocolate which he had brought for the purpose. Àtanelli, he ask plenty question, eh?' he asked Shell-Breaker.
`Yes, he say I show him island where you stay long time.'
Did you tell him where it was?'
44
`No. I say island plenty far, but he say me plenty liar. Say make me show.'
`Well, you won't have to show him now,' an
swered Sandy, patting the boy's shoulder. '
You are coming back to the village with us.'
Castanelli's voice, still cursing, reached them faintly as they set off up the hill-side.
Dawn had broken by the time they reached the central crater, and this may have accounted for the fact that they saw no signs of the wild dogs. Moreover, being daylight, their task was much easier than it had been in the dark. Nevertheless, it was a weary party that finally marched down through the coconut-grove into the village, where Shell-Breaker was received like one returned from the grave.
Tired out, the others retired to their hut, and having arranged with Roaring Wave for a watch to be kept for Castanelli's schooner, should it come that way, they passed the rest of the day in sleep, having postponed departure for Sandy's island until dawn the following day.
G INGER woke up with a wild shout ringing in his ears. Startled, and still in a daze, he sprang to his feet, conscious of impending trouble. Running to the door, which overlooked the bay, he stared out, and saw that dawn had not long broken, for a faint flush of pink still diffused the pale azure sky; the palms stirred uneasily and a ripple spread across the face of the tranquil water as the 45
dawn-wind caressed it. He looked first at thèScud , it was still at its moorings, rocking gently as the ripple reached it. Then another movement caught his eyes. A brown figure was racing along the beach. It was Full Moon. Àtanelli, he come! ' she cried.
`What's that?' asked Biggles, from inside the hut. He had risen, and was putting on his jacket.
Ìt's Full Moon. She says Castanelli is coming,' answered Ginger.
Two steps brought Biggles to the door. 'Where is he?' he asked.
Ì don't see him,' replied Ginger. 'Yes—look!' He pointed to a rugged mass of rock, a small islet which stood near the mouth of the bay, from behind which now appeared the schooner, all sails set to catch the light breeze before which it moved over the water as silently and gracefully as a bird. It heeled a little as the wind freshened, and came straight towards the beach as if Castanelli intended coming close inshore before dropping anchor.
`What's he doing? Why doesn't he shorten sail?' asked Sandy. who had now joined the others outside the door.
The schooner itself supplied the answer. It suddenly swung round and bore down on the '
Scud'.
`Look out! He's going to ram us!' cried Biggles.
For a moment a sort of panic prevailed, everybody acting as he thought best. Ginger dashed down to the water and struck out for the 'Scud', for the nearest canoe was some distance away. Full Moon joined him, slipping through the water with the effortless ease of a fish, the blue pareu she wore clinging to her lithe body like a skin. 'What you do?'
she asked Ginger naively.
`Cut the cable,' gasped Ginger. Àtanelli ram her.'
`Me cut,' said Full Moon, smiling, and went on at a speed which left Ginger far behind.
It was only about a hundred yards to the 'Scud', but to Ginger, in his haste. it seemed more like a mile. Long before he reached the machine he saw Full Moon swarm nimbly up the anchor rope and sit astride the nacelle. Her knife flashed in the bright sunlight.
But by this time the schooner was only a cable's length away and travelling fast before the swiftly freshening breeze.
Fortunately, the wind came from the sea, so as soon as 46
the cable was severed the 'Scud' began to drift inshore. Instantly the Avarata altered its course to follow, leaving no possible room for doubt as to Castanelli's intention. The direction of the 'Scud's' drift being inshore, however, lessened the distance Ginger had to travel. It came towards him broadside-on, threatening to force him under water, but he grabbed a wing-float and hung on. His weight on the float caused the wing to tilt down, and upon it he now climbed, squelching water and gasping for breath, for the fast swim had taken the wind out of him. Full Moon was still sitting on the nose of the machine watching the approaching schooner helplessly. Yelling to her to hold tight, Ginger ran up the wing, across the centre-section, and then to the tip of the far wing, which was, of course, nearer to the schooner. He knew that if the Avarata struck the flying boat her sharp bows would crush it beyond all hope of repair, and for a moment or two it seemed as if nothing could prevent this from happening. There was no means by which Ginger could move the 'Scud' out of the track of the schooner. There was no time to start the engines. Castanelli evidently realized this, for his swarthy face was wreathed in smiles as he stood at the wheel with his boys around him.
—But Ginger knew something that Castanelli did not know; that a flying-boat, owing to its shallow draught, rests on water as lightly as a feather, so that a child standing on a firm platform can move it. Ginger had no platform to stand on, for he was standing on the machine itself and therefore unable to move it. But he knew that if he could reach the schooner's bows before they struck the machine he would be able to fend the flying-boat away. It was now clear that the schooner would strike the 'Scud's' seaward wing, so he stood still, hands out, waiting. He nearly went into the sea when the machine tilted suddenly, as somebody else climbed on board, but there was no time to see who it was.
At the last moment the bows of the schooner seemed to bear down on him like a monstrous guillotine. With the curious faculty for noticing details which comes to one in such moments, he saw that the iron anchor was still dripping water and mud. Bracing his feet as far as he was able on the main spar, which he could feel under the fabric, 47
he leaned outwards and clutched at the schooner's bows with both hands. Instantly the wing under his feet seemed to slide away from him as it took the weight of the schooner transmitted through his body. For a second he hung on, his body as rigid as a steel spring; then the 'Scud' began to swing round and he knew that he must fall. Even so he gave a final thrust with his feet. The wing shot away from under him and he fell headlong into the sea. A noise of rushing water filled his ears. A great black shape swept past him, and he struck out away from it into a strange world of profound blue. His lungs felt as if they must burst. He became sure of it. They could not endure such agony. He felt his body rising, but by this time he was too far gone to swim. Flashes of white light began to dance in, front of his eyes; they grew brighter and brighter; then, almost with the violence of an explosion, his head broke the surface of the water and he filled his lungs with a mighty gasp.
For a moment or two he could only paddle feebly, just able to keep himself afloat; but then, as his strength returned to him, he looked round, and'saw the scene through a sort of hazy blur. Full Moon was a few yards away, streaking towards him. Nearer to the beach was the 'Scud', undamaged, with Biggles standing on the wing looking in his direction. The schooner was some, distance away, her canvas fluttering as she came round.
Ginger would never have got to the machine or the beach unaided, for he was completely exhausted; indeed, he was half drowned; but Full Moon came to his assistance and made him put his hand on her shoulder. Biggles, seeing them coming, disappeared into the cockpit of the machine, and a moment later, to Ginger's surprise, the engines started up.
As he reached the 'Scud', Sandy dragged him on board; Full Moon followed; and not until then did he see the need for urgency. The Avarata had turned about, and was once more bearing down on them.
`Good work, laddie,' said Sandy. 'And that goes for Full Moon, too.'
`Why doesn't somebody shoot that skunk?' gasped Ginger, in a pained voice, staring at Castanelli, who was still at the wheel of the schooner.
49
`Because we don't want to start a pitched battle,' returned Algy, who was busy stowing gear into place.
Ginger saw that Shell-Breaker was also in the machine, and looked at Sandy inquiringly.
Ìf we leave him behind Castanelli may get hold of him,' explained Sandy, as the engines roared and the machine began to move forward.
`Gosh! we're taking off,' cried Ginger.
`There's no sense in sitting here and letting Castanelli ram
us,' shouted Algy. 'He means business. Biggles says he's going to clear out and save any further trouble.'
Ginger nodded and sat down with a jolt as the machine bumped badly. 'What's going on?'
he asked anxiously.
Algy was staring forward over Biggles's shoulder, a startled expression on his face.
`What is it?' asked Ginger; now thoroughly alarmed, and got up to look.
One glance, and there was no need to ask further questions. The 'Scud' was taking off straight into a sea which, except for a miracle or superb pilotage, would capsize them. He could guess what had happened. On account of the direction of the wind, Biggles had been compelled to take off towards the open ocean, unaware that outside the bay a choppy sea was running. And because the machine was heavily loaded it was taking an unusually long run. Now, when the size of the waves could be seen, it was too late to stop. To attempt to turn the machine at the rate it was now travelling would have been the most certain way to wreck it. So Biggles dared not turn, nor dared he throttle back, for the way the machine now had on it was sufficient to carry it into the white-crested breakers that surged across the mouth of the bay. So he could only go on, trusting that the machine would lift before it struck the curling cambers.
Ginger held his breath as the machine tore on at ever-increasing speed to what looked like certain destruction. Neither Sandy nor Algy spoke. Not a muscle of Biggles's face moved. Twice he jerked the joystick back in an attempt to 'unstick' the machine, but here again, by a sort of bitter irony, the very calmness of the water in the bay defeated- him; for a heavily loaded machine needs the
50
tick' of a small wave to break it clear from the surface of the water.
The machine roared on, over water that was now suddenly turbulent. A green-flecked, foam-crested breaker, curling over at the top, reared high in front of it, and then swept down as if determined on the flying-boat's destruction. Biggles jerked the stick back into his stomach in a last effort to avoid the liquid avalanche. The machine lifted, but only sluggishly. The wave broke. There was a mighty cloud of spray. The machine shuddered and rocked. Then a force seemed to rise up beneath it and fling it into the air. For a moment it hung, rocking, like a bird that has been wounded, while the propellers threshed the air; then, just as it seemed that it must stall and fall into the breakers, the engines picked it up and it rose into the air. The danger was past.
21 Biggles In the South Seas Page 5
