by W E Johns
‘I’m afraid that’s your problem, although if you stay here long enough no doubt the Canadian police will provide you with transport. Think it over.’
The three men looked at each other.
It must be admitted that Biggles was only talking to gain time, to give himself an opportunity to think; apart from which he could see no way out of the present contretemps. He was afraid it could only end in violence in which he would be at a disadvantage. He gathered from the conversation that Bertie had found the launch and set fire to it, although his reason for doing this could only be conjectured. Knowing nothing about the Negro deckhand, he could only wonder what had become of Tommy. Could he have escaped? He felt certain the crooks had not yet found the jewels, or they would not be standing there wasting time in futile conversation. Not that they could get away without a boat of some sort. From the way they were behaving there was reason to think that they themselves were at a loss to know what to do next. Naturally, they would be reluctant to leave the island without getting what they had come for; but it could be they were now wondering what to do with the jewels if they did get their hands on them. They would not solve their present problem of how to get to the mainland. So reasoned Biggles.
But perhaps the most urgent question, and the one uppermost in his mind at this critical juncture, was what would happen if Bertie walked in; for this might happen at any moment. The crooks appeared to know it was he, and not Ginger, who had been responsible for the sabotaging of their boat. The arrival of Ginger on the scene might not therefore spark off the explosion that seemed imminent. But should Bertie join the party the balloon would almost certainly go up with a bang; and he braced himself for it.
Raulstein broke in on his thoughts. ‘I reckon we’ll stay here,’ he said.
Biggles shrugged. If this was their decision there was little he could do about it. He was in no position to force them to leave. He was not surprised. In fact, he had expected this would be the outcome. With no boat, and nowhere else on the island to find shelter for the night, what else could they do? The move was predictable. The explosion of violence, sooner or later, was now inevitable. Bertie, without a doubt, would return to the cabin and that would be it.
‘I’ll not pretend you’re welcome, but I hope you won’t find it too uncomfortable,’ he said with frosty sarcasm. ‘I’m sorry I can’t offer you any hospitality, but someone appears to have emptied the larder.’
‘That wasn’t us,’ declared Raulstein. ‘We were here, but we didn’t need all the grub. We had plenty of our own, on the boat.’
Biggles was genuinely surprised by this statement because if it were not true he could see no reason for it. ‘If it wasn’t you who left the litter of cans outside, who was it?’
‘How would I know? Some of ‘em were ours. We came here once or twice to eat. Brought ours with us.’
‘What does it matter?’ returned Biggles. ‘The problem of food may not arise as far as you’re concerned. To the best of my knowledge the Mounties are not in the habit of starving their prisoners.’
Nobody answered. Perhaps nobody could think of anything to say; or thought the point Biggles had made not worth arguing about. The Americans pocketed their guns, and after a brief hesitation Raulstein did the same. ‘Don’t you try anything,’ he warned, glaring at Biggles.
‘What is there to try?’ answered Biggles disarmingly. ‘I’m not frantic to spend a night out in this perishing fog.’ The words came automatically, for his muscles were taut. His eyes were looking past Raulstein at the door. Had he imagined it, or had it slowly opened an inch?
He watched, nerves tingling. The door opened another inch. Who was it? Bertie or Ginger? Or possibly Tommy?
Breathless, he waited.
CHAPTER 13
GINGER GETS A FRIGHT
GINGER had made the same cautious departure from the cabin as Bertie had done before him. As he now had reason to expect, nothing happened, and he proceeded on what in his heart he felt was a useless mission. Should the fog persist, there was no chance of the helicopter coming over; but there was always a possibility that it might clear suddenly, as occasionally fog will. Anyway, it was better to be doing something than killing time in the cabin.
He had no great difficulty in finding his way, at all events while he was in the wood. All he had to do was move downhill and he could not fail to arrive at his destination; the open ground in the middle of the island. It didn’t matter particularly where he struck it. Should the fog lift he would be able to see, or hear, the aircraft, should it arrive. It was, he thought, as simple as that. On his way down through the trees he dragged his feet in the soft leaf mould to leave a track that would guide him on his return to the cabin. This, he had decided, would be as soon as darkness began to close in. There would be no object in waiting after that.
To his disappointment, as he went downhill to the lower ground the fog became worse instead of better; but that, he realized, was to be expected. The moisture-laden atmosphere was certain to hang in the central basin.
When in due course he reached his objective, seeing nothing more interesting than a prowling fox, he was brought to a halt by an almost solid wall of fog. It was obviously futile to go any farther. It might be dangerous in that he would be practically certain to lose his bearings. He had had enough experience of fogs to be only too well aware of that. He had no wish to find himself up to the neck in a bog. There was nothing else for it than to remain where he was, and that being so he thought he might as well sit down. Which he did, half regretting he had left the comparative comfort of the cabin with its log fire, to serve, as now seemed probable, no useful purpose.
Some time dragged past. He did not doze, he was too uncomfortable for that; but convinced that he had nothing to fear, he fell to thinking about the situation that had developed, and with nothing whatever to distract his attention he may have sunk into the kind of stupor such conditions tend to produce. He could see nothing. The silence was absolute.
His awakening to reality was a rude one. It came when, without warning, hands closed round his neck and throat, choking him and forcing him down on his back. From this position he found himself staring up into a face so horrible that fear became the horror of a nightmare; a pale, thin, haggard face, with a tangle of matted beard, from which, under a mop of unkempt hair topped by a piece of blood-stained rag, two eyes ablaze with hate glared into his own. There was no sound apart from his own frenzied gasping.
It is hardly necessary to say that he struggled. He fought as if he had suddenly found himself in the grip of a madman — as indeed he thought he had. He kicked, he squirmed, he tore at the fingers that met round his neck threatening to choke the life out of him. Fighting with the fury of despair, he managed to raise a foot to the man’s stomach; then he straightened his leg in a kick into which he put every ounce of his failing strength. It worked. The grip on his throat was broken. His assailant somersaulted over him and sprawled down the bank.
Before he could get up to renew the attack, Ginger, still half dazed by the shock of it all, had struggled to his feet, his gun in hand. And he was prepared to use it, too. In fact, he nearly did use it; and would have done so had not the man, seeing the gun pointing at him at a range of a few feet, remained still, panting, staring.
Ginger was panting, too, for that matter. ‘What the devil do you think you’re doing?’ he rapped out with iron in his voice. ‘One step and I’ll put a hole through you.’
For perhaps five seconds the two stood glaring at each other, breathing heavily, neither speaking nor moving. Then it was the stranger who spoke first. ‘Who are you?’ he said.
‘What’s that got to do with you?’ snapped back Ginger. ‘Are you out of your mind?’
‘What are you doing here?’
‘That’s my business.’
‘It’s mine, too.’
‘How do you work that out?’
‘I happen to be the owner of this island.’
‘You own...’ Ginge
r’s eyes saucered as the only possible meaning of the words penetrated his still-reeling brain. ‘What’s your name?’ he managed to get out.
‘Campbell.’
‘Angus Campbell?’
‘That’s right.’
‘For heaven’s sake!’ Ginger exclaimed weakly. ‘I’d forgotten about you.’ He forced a smile as, putting the gun back in his pocket, he went on: ‘I thought you must be a lunatic Crusoe.’
‘That’s just about what I am.’
‘Well, there was no need to set about me. I may turn out to be your man Friday. I and some friends of mine are here to help you.’ This of course was not strictly true, but to Ginger at that moment it seemed near enough.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘So you should be,’ Ginger growled, straightening his collar and tie and fast coming back to normal. ‘Who did you think I was?’
‘One of a gang of villains who have taken possession of my property.’
‘I know all about them. You know you’re supposed to be dead?’
‘So, but for luck I should be. A scoundrel named Raulstein tried to murder me.’
‘Murder is his line. Have we finished fighting?’
‘Sure.’
‘Good. Apart from choking me you nearly frightened me to death. It might be a good thing if we had a chat to get things straightened out.’
‘Okay. I was about ready to strangle anyone when I saw you. I was hoping to find Raulstein, the skunk. After all I’d done for him, he coshed me from behind and threw me off my boat into the sea. Must have been the shock of the cold water that brought me round. Being a strong swimmer I managed to get ashore. Raulstein saw me and fired at me with the gun he carries. I had to hide up in the woods.’
‘And you’ve been here ever since?’
‘Couldn’t get away. Raulstein had my boat moored in a cove, but I daren’t go near it for fear of being shot.’
‘How have you managed for food?’
‘Not too bad. I grabbed some from my cabin when Raulstein was out of the way searching for something. With that, and shellfish off the rocks, I’ve made do.’
‘Why didn’t you make a smoke signal to let people in Rankinton know where you were?’
‘I’d no means of lighting a fire. Everything was soaking wet, like it is now. I had matches in my pocket, but they’d been in the sea and I couldn’t get ‘em dry.’
‘So you’ve been living rough ever since you came ashore.’
‘Look at me. How do you think I got in this state?’
‘So having once rescued Raulstein you brought him back here?’
‘Aye.’
‘Did he tell you why he wanted to come back?’
‘Aye. He told me he’d lost his old mother’s last present to him. A gold watch. He thought he knew where he must have dropped it.’
‘And you believed him?’
‘At the time I had no reason to disbelieve him.’
Ginger spoke slowly. ‘What he was looking for was a quarter of a million pounds’ worth of jewellery which he’d stolen in London. It had been hidden on the island, stuffed down a foxhole.’
Campbell stared. ‘So that was it! The liar. Now it all begins to add up. Is this stuff still here?’
‘As far as we know.’
‘Who do you mean by we?’
‘Police officers from London. Three of us. There’s another man in the party. When you first picked up Raulstein here he had a lad with him.’
‘Boy called Tommy?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Nice lad. I’ve often wondered why he ran away from me in Rankinton.’
‘He wasn’t running away from you. He was trying to get clear of Raulstein, not without reason. He was afraid of being murdered.’
‘Murdered! Why?’
‘Because it was he who’d hidden the jewellery. He got back to England and told us the whole story. He’s here with us to recover the stolen property. Or he was. I say was because Raulstein grabbed him this morning and is holding him; but he’s not likely to murder him.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because he’s the only man alive who can say where the stuff is.’
‘Gosh! What a tale. Do you know this guy Raulstein?’
‘I’ve met him.’
‘So he’s still here?’
‘Too true. We had a set-to earlier in the day. That’s why I’m here, watching for Jack Fraser to come over should the fog clear. He won’t come in these conditions, that’s for sure. But we might as well sit down.’
They sat together on the soaking ground.
‘Are you going to join us, or do you prefer to work on your own?’ inquired Ginger.
‘Join you, of course. Where’s the rest of your party?’
‘Inspector Bigglesworth, my chief, is standing by in the cabin in case Tommy makes a break. Bertie Lissie, my half-section, went out to look for Raulstein’s launch hoping to get some food. We brought none with us expecting to go straight back to Rankinton; but the fog came down and we’re stuck here.’
‘I doubt if your chum is likely to get any food even if he locates Raulstein’s boat in this murk.’
‘Why not?’
‘There’s a big Negro left on board.’
‘The deuce there is!’
‘Bertie won’t get much change out of him.’
‘You’d be surprised. You don’t know Bertie.’
‘What do you reckon to do next?’
‘That’s something my chief will decide.’ Ginger went on to fill in any gaps in his story. ‘Now, what happened to you?’ he concluded.
‘There doesn’t seem to be much you don’t know,’ rejoined Campbell. ‘You know how I first picked up Raulstein and Tommy from the island, so we needn’t go over that again. I put them up in my house at Rankinton. Tommy stayed only one night, then he vanished. I understand now why Raulstein was so upset about it. He spent a day or two looking for him. Then I had to tell him that as I had to go away on business, I couldn’t do with him any longer. I suggested he went to the Blue Dolphin, Charley Murray’s place. Which he did. As he said he was broke, I gave him some money to tide him over. Then he came back and told me the tale about losing his gold watch. That explained the rumour I’d heard about him trying to make arrangements to go back to the island. He asked me if as a special favour I’d run him across. This was the evening before I was due to leave early the following morning, so it was inconvenient. However, I try to help fellers down on their luck, so I agreed to take him; but it would mean starting before daylight and I wouldn’t be able to wait for more than an hour almost. He said a few minutes should be enough. So I brought him here. We started an hour before dawn.’
‘I imagine that was why no one in Rankinton seemed to know anything about it,’ put in Ginger.
‘I suppose so. There’s no one about at that time.’
‘Raulstein must have planned what he intended to do when you got here.’
‘Of course. That’s obvious now. He wanted to stay on the island, but he couldn’t without a boat; so he decided to steal mine. Which he did. I’ve told you how.’
‘He must have stayed here for a while. Then, failing to find the jewels, he pushed off to fetch help.’
‘That’s it. I didn’t see him go. I was hiding in the woods, feeling pretty sick from having been bashed on the head. I didn’t know where he’d hidden my boat, so I couldn’t get away. If I had known where it was I wouldn’t have dared to go near it for fear of being shot. It would have suited him to silence me for good. I did my best to watch him, but it wasn’t easy in a place like this. It was during one of his trips, to look for the jewels I suppose, that I slipped into the cabin and collected a load of food. I had to eat. Meanwhile I went on looking for my boat, not realizing he’d gone off in it. The devil knew I couldn’t get away. The next thing I knew was when a strange launch turned up. It brought Raulstein and his pals.’
‘What happened to your boat?’
‘I’ve no ide
a. He must have left it somewhere down the coast; maybe sold it. Your guess is as good as mine.’
‘Didn’t you see the helicopter come over this morning?’
‘Yes. From a distance. Unfortunately I was at the far end of the island. Before I could get along it had gone. I couldn’t imagine what it was doing.’
‘What’s happening about your foxes?’
‘I don’t know. No doubt they’ll manage to live somehow. I’ve been more concerned with how I was going to keep alive.’
Ginger nodded. ‘I can understand that.’ He looked up at the fog. It was turning grey with the approach of twilight. ‘I think it’s time we were moving,’ he said, getting up. ‘It’s no use waiting here any longer.’
‘What are you going to do?’ asked Campbell, also rising.
‘I shall go back to the cabin to find out what’s happening there. It’s the only thing I can do. Anything might have happened while I’ve been away, so I shall have to do a bit of scouting before I show myself.’
‘Okay. I’ll come with you.’
They set off up the slope, Ginger back-tracking his own foot-marks. Just before they came to within sight of the cabin he said: ‘Bertie might be back. Perhaps not.’ He pointed. ‘He’d go that way to keep clear of Raulstein’s lot. No doubt he’ll come back the same way. While I have a scout round the cabin, I think it’d be a good idea if you waited here to catch him, should he come, and tell him who you are. If he’s already back at the cabin I’ll let you know. If he isn’t, I’ll tell my chief I’ve met you and then come along to fetch you, anyway.’
‘Right you are.’
‘You’d better keep under cover. You don’t want to get in a mix-up with Raulstein. There are three of ‘em and they’ve all got guns, so you’d better keep clear. Without a weapon you wouldn’t be able to do anything.’
‘Don’t worry about me. I’ll fix myself a club. I’ve got my hunting knife. I never come here without it. Good thing too; I don’t know how I’d have managed without it.’
‘Well, don’t go looking for trouble, that’s all.’
‘If he shoots me now, at least you’ll know about it,’ returned Campbell cheerfully.
