Biggles and the Deep Blue Sea

by Captain W E Johns

  He went on to where there was a surge of water into the lagoon and saw at once that he had been right in his conjecture. There was a definite break in the reef, not very wide, but wide enough to permit the passage of a ship of fair size. Why hadn’t Captain Grant discovered it? It would have saved him the trouble of manhandling a lifeboat over the coral. Biggles examined the gap carefully, going down on his hands and knees to peer into the depths. He marked the jagged sides, and loose boulders of coral lying about on the bottom of the shallow lagoon. Satisfied with his inspection he returned to the island by the way he had come to find Algy had laid a picnic lunch ashore on the rock.

  ‘There’s a break in the reef,’ he said, as he seated himself.

  ‘Is there, by jove? How wide?’

  ‘Wide enough to let a ship of fair size get into the lagoon.’

  ‘Strange that nobody seems to have spotted it.’

  ‘It wasn’t always there. It isn’t a natural break. It was blasted. I could see the bore holes where the explosive charges had been put in. Pieces of broken coral lay scattered about on the floor of the lagoon.’

  Algy stared. ‘How extraordinary. Who on earth would do that?’

  Biggles raised a shoulder. ‘Obviously somebody who had ideas of using the lagoon.’

  ‘Could it have been done when the island was in use during the war?’

  ‘I don’t think so. It looks too recent for that.’

  ‘Collingwood?’

  ‘Possibly. We’ve no means of knowing. But it goes some way to confirm my opinion that something’s going on here — or has been going on.’

  ‘What can we do about it?’

  ‘Not much at the moment. It’s too late to do anything today, anyhow, but tomorrow I’m going to have a closer look at the island to find what makes it worth while to bring a boat here. The weather seems set fair, so the machine can stay where it is for the time being. I shall sleep ashore. It’ll be less cramped than in the cabin.’ Biggles helped himself to the food that had been set out.

  ‘Collingwood must know what’s going on,’ declared Algy.

  ‘Of course he knows. He must know. I’d say he’s a party to whatever is going on here. That would account for him being so offhand with us. He doesn’t want us here, but he has a lot more interest in us than he pretends. From out on the reef I could see him at the door of his hut watching me.’

  ‘Then he must have seen you find the gap in the reef.’

  ‘Of course. And if he’s as shrewd as I fancy he is he’ll realize I know the entrance to the lagoon was dynamited. Still, I don’t see how he can do anything about it.’

  ‘He must be worried by the thought of us going back to London to report what we’ve found.’

  ‘Let him worry.’

  ‘He might try to stop us.’

  ‘I can’t see him going as far as that.’

  They sat talking over their meal, and afterwards drinking tea, while the sun sank into the ocean and a trance-like calm settled over the lonely little island. The breeze died. The fronds of the coconut palms came to rest. The gulls retired to their roosts. Only the ocean rollers still waged their everlasting war against the land. After a brief but deepening afterglow the day died and the curtain of night was drawn. But not for long. A full moon, huge, white and shining like burnished metal, soared into view, to throw a trail of gleaming quicksilver on the gently heaving waters beyond the reef. A million stars sparkled like diamonds in the sky.

  For a time Biggles and Algy sat in silence, entranced by the strange beauty of the scene. Then taking the cigarette from his lips, Biggles said: ‘This is the sort of picture that sends poets reaching for their pens. You know, Algy old boy, looking at this I’m not sure Collingwood hasn’t got something in settling here. Some people would give their ears to be where we’re sitting now. Peace and quiet is what half the world is looking for, but it gets harder and harder to find. If Collingwood hadn’t been so snooty with us I’d be tempted to fly straight home and say there was nothing here to report.’

  ‘If you feel like that why not do it?’

  ‘Because when a man is rude to me some streak of cussedness makes me look for something to cause him to regret it.’ Biggles got up. ‘I’m going to fetch one of the seat cushions for a pillow and doss down on this patch of sand.’

  This he did. Having made himself comfortable, his last words were: ‘If you’re awake and see any signs of a change in the weather let me know at once.’

  ‘Okay, chaps. Sure you wouldn’t like me to stay awake to keep guard?’

  ‘I don’t think there’s any need for that,’ Biggles answered, and in a few minutes his steady breathing announced that he was asleep.

  Algy settled down to follow suit, but found, as many people accustomed to having a roof over their heads have discovered, that a canopy of a full moon and stars can in some strange way be disturbing; and although he courted sleep with all the methods he knew, it eluded him. Eventually, with his brain running tirelessly over the events of the day, he realized he had reached the stage when he was becoming more wide awake. In this condition there is only one thing to be done. Make a break. He sat up.

  Sitting there with his chin in his hands, presently he noticed something he could not understand. He tried to ignore it, but he found his eyes returning to it over and over again. It was a pinpoint of light on the rock close to him. At first he thought it might be a luminous insect, a firefly, a glow-worm, or something of that nature. But it never moved. Finally his curiosity got the better of him and he made the effort to rise to find out what it was. With the tiny light constant he was able to walk straight to it.

  To his surprise he found it was the piece of hard mud, or stone, which Biggles had put there. The object which Collingwood had said was phosphate. Not all of it glowed. Merely a tiny vein of something that ran through it. He examined it curiously. Was it moonlight reflected by certain particles? He turned the stone away from the light. If anything it glowed more brightly. Leaving the thing as it lay, but making a mental note to tell Biggles about it in the morning, he returned to his position on the sand.

  Before settling down in another attempt to get some sleep he had a last look across the lagoon, marvelling at the unearthly quality of the scene. As he did this he saw another strange thing. At least he thought it strange; indeed, so strange as to be impossible. A piece, a small portion of the reef, had moved. Had it really moved? He watched. Imagination? A trick of the moonlight? He rubbed his eyes and looked again. This time there was no mistake. Something on the reef was moving; a slow but definite movement. He stood up. Then he understood. It was not the coral that was moving, but something on it; a dark bulky object which, with a curious rolling motion, was coming nearer to the island. There was something horribly sinister about the silent, deliberate approach. He observed that if it continued it would arrive near him, and the aircraft, floating on the water like a sleeping duck.

  He watched for another minute, but as the thing came on he touched Biggles on the arm.

  Biggles raised himself on an elbow. ‘What’s the trouble?’

  ‘There’s something I think you should see.’ Algy pointed. ‘There it is, on the reef. It’s moving.’

  Biggles sat up and looked. ‘What do you make of it?’

  ‘I haven’t a clue. All I know is it’s coming this way.’

  At that moment a clue presented itself. For an instant an object like a serpent was clearly outlined against the moon-drenched sky.

  ‘Strewth!’ gasped Algy. ‘That was a tentacle. It’s an octopus, and a whopper.’

  ‘Keep still. Don’t make a noise.’

  ‘It’s coming here.’

  ‘So I see. If it comes much nearer we shall have to do something to discourage it. If it took a fancy to the machine it wouldn’t do it any good.’

  They watched. The creature came on. Once, as the moonlight caught its eyes, Algy had to strangle an exclamation. They were white, flat, like tea plates.

  �
�I don’t think it’s an octopus,’ Biggles said. ‘It’s too big. I fancy it must be a decapod; the sort I believe is called a cephalopod. I’ve never seen a live one, but there’s a model of one in the Oceanographic Museum in Monaco. It’s as long as the hall it’s displayed in. Enormous. It has eight arms and two tentacles, which can be up to forty feet long. They’re thought sometimes to come ashore at night. There are records of them seizing a canoe loaded with natives and dragging it under.’

  ‘Charming,’ murmured Algy. ‘Isn’t it time we were doing something about it?’

  ‘We haven’t time to get the machine ashore if that’s what you mean.’

  ‘Perhaps this is what Collingwood had in mind when he wished us joy,’ Algy said pointedly.

  ‘I can hardly believe that.’

  ‘He, doesn’t want us here, that’s obvious. It might suit him to see the plane wrecked so we couldn’t report back to London.’

  ‘If I thought he let us park ourselves here, knowing these monsters were in the habit of coming ashore, I’d knock his block off,’ muttered Biggles savagely. ‘I remember reading in a book by a sailor of a battle between one of these things and a whale; that’ll give you an idea of the size they can be. I think this one’s close enough. Fetch me a gun from the locker.’

  Algy went aboard and returned with two automatic pistols that were kept for emergencies. Handing one to Biggles he said: ‘It’s loaded.’

  Biggles took the weapon and walked slowly to the end of the reef, towards which the beast was still gliding.

  ‘Careful,’ warned Algy anxiously.

  Biggles did not answer. He did not stop until he was about fifty feet from the monster. Then he raised the gun, and taking deliberate aim, fired. The shot appeared to have no effect. The decapod continued to slither along the reef. He fired again. Still no effect. He fired a third time. The creature threw up two great tentacles, waving, and let out a cry so mournful that to Algy it was like a current of cold air. Then it fell off the reef with a splash, fortunately on the deep water side. Biggles watched for a minute and returned to Algy.

  ‘Did you kill it?’ asked Algy.

  ‘I don’t know. But I think I must have hurt it. I aimed between the eyes. If the horror has a brain I may have got it, but these deep-sea brutes take a lot of killing.’

  ‘This is what I may have seen in the pool earlier, to cause that swirl which you thought was a shoal of small fish,’ Algy said. ‘Small fish. That’s a joke.’

  ‘You can bet I shall think twice before I do any more swimming,’ returned Biggles, seriously.

  They kept watch for some time, but they saw no more of the monster. ‘We’ll get the machine on dry land before tomorrow night,’ stated Biggles.

  After a while Algy said: ‘I’ve something else to show you.’ He fetched the piece of alleged phosphate. ‘Take a look at that,’ he invited. ‘It’s luminous. Now what do you make of it?’

  Biggles studied the substance intently, turning it over and over in his hand before he answered. ‘I wouldn’t know. Might be some particles of gypsum in the stuff. This sort of thing isn’t in my line.’

  ‘It only shows in the dark. Could it be pitch-blende; the stuff that yields radium?’

  ‘No use asking me. I’ve never seen any.’

  ‘Collingwood is here for something. Could this be it?’

  ‘I suppose it could be. But this is guessing. That’s no use. If it wasn’t so far to go I’d take this stuff to London and get professional opinion on it. I shall see Collingwood again in the morning; I may be able to get something out of him. At present we’re working on suspicion. That isn’t enough. But that beast doesn’t seem to be coming back, so we might as well try to get some sleep. But I think it would be advisable to mount guard.’

  ‘Thank goodness it fell into deep water and not in the lagoon,’ Algy said. ‘Anything like an octopus gives me the willies.’

  ‘I’ve had a nap, so I’ll take first watch,’ offered Biggles.

  ‘Do you think that’s necessary?’

  ‘I’d rather not take chances. That decapod, or whatever it was, might have a pal. I’ll wake you in about four hours.’

  In the event, with their brains active after what had happened, there was little sleep for either of them, and dawn rose out of the ocean to find them unrefreshed.

  While Algy made coffee Biggles walked to the far side of the reef, and having surveyed the shore returned to say there was no sign of the creature that had ruined their night’s rest.

  CHAPTER 5

  MORE PROBLEMS

  Breakfast finished and toilet complete, Biggles said: ‘Right. Now let’s go and have a word with Collingwood.’

  ‘You won’t get much out of him,’ predicted Algy.

  ‘I wouldn’t be too sure of that. He may have had second thoughts. We’ll give him another chance. We’ve nothing to lose by trying.’

  ‘What about the plane ? Are you going to leave it on the water? You spoke of running it up on the sand.’

  Biggles took a quick glance round the sky. ‘That’ll do when we come back. I’m still in two minds about going home for orders, so in case I do, it might be as well to let it stay where it is, to be ready.’

  ‘What about that beast we saw last night?’ queried Algy.

  ‘I don’t think it’ll come into the lagoon. From what I’ve read they usually stay in deep water and they don’t normally come ashore in daylight. In fact, only rarely at night. I don’t think we need worry about that. The machine should be all right.’

  ‘What about Collingwood? I suppose he wouldn’t interfere with it?’

  ‘I can’t see him doing anything as dirty as that. Besides, as we shall be with him I don’t see how he could do anything, even if he contemplated it.’

  They made their way again to the relics of the war, the huts, to find the man they wanted to see having a breakfast of cereals and tea with condensed milk.

  ‘Now what do you want?’ he inquired coldly as they appeared in the doorway. ‘Can’t you leave me alone?’

  ‘No,’ answered Biggles, bluntly. ‘I’ve come to ask you a question and I expect a straight answer. Did you know that decapods were in the habit of coming ashore along the reef?’

  ‘What about it?’

  Biggles’ expression hardened. ‘By thunder! You’ve got a crust. So you did know.’

  ‘I’ve seen them, but they don’t interfere with me.’

  ‘They might have interfered with us, or our machine.’

  ‘Did they?’

  ‘Not to any great extent.’

  ‘I wondered if that was what the shooting was about. I heard shots.’

  ‘Why didn’t you warn us?’

  Collingwood’s eyes opened wide with affected surprise. ‘Why should I? I didn’t invite you to come here. I thought you’d find out. I’m not a baby-sitter.’ The last words were said with a sneer.

  ‘A baby-sitter is something we shan’t need, as you’ll learn,’ retorted Biggles grimly. ‘You were hoping our aircraft would be damaged. Was that it?’

  ‘Why should I pretend to be sorry if it had been?’

  ‘I see. So that’s how you feel. Then let me take this opportunity of saying you’re a stinker of a lower order than a skunk.’ Biggles spoke with ice in his voice. Collingwood sipped his tea, apparently unconcerned.

  ‘Have you finished?’

  ‘No, I haven’t. Not by a long shot,’ rapped back Biggles. ‘Now you listen to me, Collingwood, and listen hard. I don’t know what you’re doing here, but if you wanted to be left alone you’ve gone the wrong way about it. Had you behaved like a civilized human being, I’d probably have gone home with nothing to report; but as you’ve chosen to be cantankerous, I shall stay here until I know just what sort of crooked business you’re engaged in.’

  ‘Be careful. I could sue you for slander.’

  ‘Go ahead and try it. That would suit me. If I’m forced to conclude that you’re in some dishonest racket you’ve only your
self to blame. Come clean and I’ll reconsider my decision, otherwise I shall stay.’

  ‘You hope.’

  ‘Am I to take that as a threat?’

  ‘You can take it how you like; but if you go on sticking your nose into my affairs you’ll wish you’d never seen Jean Bonney Island.’

  ‘One more crack like that and I’ll put you under arrest.’

  That made Collingwood look up from his breakfast. ‘Indeed, and who are you to talk about arresting anyone?’

  ‘We’re police officers from Scotland Yard.’ Biggles held up his authority. ‘Now you know.’

  ‘Know what?’

  ‘Why I’m here.’

  ‘You’re a long way from Scotland Yard,’ taunted Collingwood.

  ‘Not too far, as you’ll learn. That’s all.’ Turning to Algy Biggles said: ‘We’re wasting our time.’ He walked away.

  Presently, Algy, who had gone with him, said: ‘So he’s one of these smart guys.’

  ‘Maybe not as smart as he thinks he is. We shall see. Did you notice a queer smell in that hut?’

  ‘Yes, I did notice something, vaguely.’

  ‘Did you recognize it?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Nor I. It reminded me of something. It’ll come to me presently.’

  ‘What do we do now?’

  ‘Explore the island. That shouldn’t take long.’ Biggles headed for the lagoon. ‘But before we do that we’ll get the machine up high and dry,’ he added, as they topped the rise overlooking the blue water. He stopped abruptly, staring at it. The next moment he was running flat out.

  Algy did not have to look for the reason for this sudden burst of speed. It was the Gadfly. No longer fast at its mooring, it was free, in the middle of the lagoon, being wafted towards the outer perimeter of the reef by a gentle breeze that was now ruffling the water.