Biggles nodded. 'I agree,' he murmured. 'It would need a dozen men to take that schooner by force, unless surprise tactics were employed. We've no proof that the schooner is still there, if it comes to that. There ought to be some way in which we can use these Marquesans.' Biggles thought for a moment. 'I don't like the idea of their going without us,' he continued. 'If there is a general attack Ginger is as likely to get hurt as anybody.'
`That's true,' remarked Sandy. 'Once they start on a job they're apt to go crazy. Why not taxi the machine across and take a bunch of them with us? We could get ten or a dozen in the cabin at a pinch.'
`Why not take the whole blessed war canoe in tow?' suggested Algy.
`By gosh! that's an idea!' cried Sandy.
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`We might as well do both,' Biggles pointed out. 'We could put some of them in the machine and tow the canoe as well. How many will the canoe hold, Sandy?'
Ì don't know; I haven't seen it; but judging from others I've seen it will probably carry thirty or forty. But we shall have to watch what we're doing. If we once set these boys on to Castanelli there will be no holding them, and if they kill him we shall be answerable for it.'
`That doesn't worry me,' declared Biggles. 'We've a witness to prove that Ginger is on board, a prisoner, so we should be justified in trying to get him off. What worries me most is the time limit. How long is Castanelli going to stay in the lagoon, even supposing he is still there? It's going to take us some time to get the machine clear, don't forget. It's after midday already. Whatever we do it is going to be dark before we get to the island.'
Àye, that's true enough,' admitted Sandy. 'I agree with you, I think it would be dangerous to let these Marquesans go without us. I reckon our best plan would be to explain the position to Roaring Wave; if he falls in with us he could lend us some men to get the "Scud" out of the creek. After that it wouldn't take us long to get to the island. We could tow the canoe most of the way. Then, when we got near the island, we could let the canoe tow the machine. In that way we should make no noise, and we might-be able to get right up to the schooner without being seen.'
Biggles nodded. 'That's it,' he said. 'If we towed the Marquesans nearly to the island they would still be fresh when we got there. If we find that the schooner has gone, the only thing we can do is to repair the wing as quickly as possible and fly round as long as we have any petrol left.'
`That sounds like common sense to me,' agreed Sandy. Ì'll go and have a word with Roaring Wave, or tell Shell-Breaker to go and fetch him.' He turned to Shell-Breaker, who still stood by him, and spoke to him at some length.
Shell-Breaker dashed off into the trees, where his voice could be heard raised in a long harangue. His speech was concluded in a pandemonium of yells, and a few moments later about threescore painted warriors, some carrying clubs and some spears, burst out of the bushes.
`They're a pretty tough-looking crowd to try to keep in 125
order,' observed Biggles, regarding the striped warriors with misgivings.
`You leave 'em to me,' said Sandy confidently, going to meet them. Somehow he managed to pick out Roaring Wave, and held a brief conversation with him. At the finish the Chief gave a shout and disappeared again into the bushes, followed by his pack. 'It's all right,' said Sandy, returning to the others. 'In fact, I believe the old man is tickled to death that we are going into the business with him. One thing is certain; they hate the sight of Castanelli, and once they get started there will be no stopping them.'
`Where have they gone now?' asked Algy.
`To get the canoe,' replied Sandy. 'Here they come.'
Both Biggles and Algy stared in astonishment as from underneath the trees appeared the grotesque painted prow of an enormous canoe. It was a beautiful piece of work, carved from end to end Tin a regular pattern, gleaming with oil. It was not less than forty feet long and needed nearly forty men to carry it. In dead silence the warriors carried it down to the water and launched it on the bay.
`Come on,' said Sandy.
`Where to?' asked Biggles.
`Back to the "Scud", of course. There is no sense in will walking. The canoe wi have us there in half the time.' `That suits me,' agreed Biggles. In a few minutes the three white men were seated in the stern of the canoe, staring at the broad painted backs of thirty natives, in a double row, fifteen on each side, each holding a beautifully carved paddle. Their weapons lay at their feet. Roaring Wave stood in the bows, looking ahead. He raised his spear and pointed. Instantly thirty paddles dug deeply into the water, and the canoe streaked forward like an arrow. Roaring Wave's spear fell, and the flashing paddles dipped again. And so it continued, the paddles keeping perfect time with the strokes of the spear.
`By Jove! This is something like travelling,' murmured Algy admiringly.
`You bet it is,' answered Sandy. 'Think what this bay must have looked like years ago, with perhaps fifty canoes like this one all sweeping out to sea in formation to make a raid on a neighbouring island. It must have been a sight worth watching.'
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In less than an hour they were at the creek, where Sandy, pointing to the 'Scud', explained to the Chief what was required. After that there was nothing more to do than sit in the canoe and watch the natives hacking at the brushwood and other debris with their heavy, keen-edged knives. At first they worked from the canoe, but as the `Scud'
was neared many of them got into the water and tore the stuff away with their hands. As soon as a fairway had been made Biggles climbed on board, and the others followed him. He went forward into the cockpit and made ready to start the engines, knowing that this would not alarm the natives, who had already seen the machine on the water near the village.
It was a long, tedious business getting the machine entirely clear, and darkness was closing in by the time the work was nearly complete. At length a line was thrown to the canoe; the natives took their places and towed the aircraft into the clear water in the middle of the creek. The canoe cast off, and was eased alongside, whereupon Sandy climbed up on to the centre section and explained the plan in detail, to make sure that it was understood. The engines were then started. Ten of the natives were transferred to the
'Scud' to reduce the drag of the canoe, which was then taken in tow. Slowly, with her engines roaring, the aircraft taxied towards the open sea. The ancient war-chant of the Marquesans rose into the still air.
Biggles glanced at Sandy and smiled; but he would not have done so if he had known that at that very moment Ginger was just being dragged down to the bottom of the lagoon.
WHEN Ginger had been dragged down to the bed of the lagoon he knew that nothing short of a miracle could save him, and although he still struggled to free himself he felt that it was hopeless. From the moment he had realized Castanelli's intention he had given himself up for lost, and he can hardly be blamed for that. But there is an old saying to the effect that while there is life there is hope, and never was the truth of it better demonstrated.
His senses were fast leaving him when his outflung arms collided with something soft. It might be thought that with death imminent his fear could not be greater than it already was, but at the touch of that unseen body his fear became blind terror, which in the circumstances is hardly to be wondered at, for he knew only too well what horrors dwelt in the warm waters of that sapphire sea. Again came the touch; he struggled violently, but, nevertheless, something long and soft wrapped itself about his legs, gripping them firmly. That it was an octopus he had no doubt whatever. It was the culminating horror, and as far as he was concerned, it was the end. There is a limit to what human consciousness can stand without collapsing.
His next sensation would be difficult to describe. It was, perhaps, more curiosity than anything else. He was quite sure that he was now dead; he did not see how it could be otherwise; but death appeared to be taking a form so strange that he was amazed. In the first place, he was still conscious of his body, for his stomach hurt him excruciatingly. And he
was still able to think, although his thoughts were vague and disjointed. Where was he? What was happening? He wondered. It was all very confused. But presently he found himself able to think more clearly, and he discovered that his eyes were open. Or he thought they were—he was by no means sure. As far as he could make 129
out he was lying head downwards on a shelving slope of coral. That seemed natural enough. It was only to be expected. But what was his face doing out of the water? He was sure it was out of the water, but not more than an inch or two. Phosphorescent wavelets were lapping against the coral just below his eyes. He could hear them as well as see them. Water was also running down the coral and dripping into the wavelets. He noticed with surprise that it was coming out of his mouth and nostrils, but on thinking it over he realized that there was nothing strange about that, after all, for he must have swallowed vast quantities of water.
He could see the wavelets more clearly now, and discovered that the scene around him was becoming more solid, and at the same time the pain in his stomach became more intense. He realized that it was due to a heavy weight on his back, a weight that rose and fell regularly. He was lying face downwards, and every time the weight fell the i
pain in his stomach became almost unbearable. At last it became so bad that he groaned. He knew that he had groaned because he distinctly heard the sound, and it added to his amazement. Instantly the weight on his back occurred again with increased violence, and at the same time something seized his arms and dragged them upwards. It had the result of sending more water gushing from his mouth. His arm were lowered and then raised again, as if some one was using them as pump-handles; and all the time the dreadful weight was on his back, forcing his stomach against the hard coral. He groaned again with the agony of it.
At last he could stand it no longer. Not even in death could he endure such agony. With a sudden wrench he tore his arms free from the grip that held them by the wrists, and with a tremendous effort flung the weight off his back. Clutching at the coral he dragged himself back from the water and at the same time twisted into a more horizontal position. He looked up. At first he could see nothing except a star-spangled sky, and the black silhouette of rocks against it. Then, close at hand, a dark form moved like a shadow. 'You plenty better bymeby,' said a small voice.
Again it would be difficult to describe Ginger's sensa130
tions at the sound of that well-remembered voice. For a moment he could do nothing but vomit water in a fearful fit of retching, but when the spasm passed he felt more normal, and he looked again at the dark figure. 'Full Moon! ' was all he could say, in a voice heavy with wonderment.
Full Moon knelt down beside him. 'You feelum better bymeby,' she whispered. 'One time I reckon you plenty dead—'
`But where have you 'come from?' asked Ginger, sitting up, and feeling his stomach tenderly. He saw that a jagged piece of coral pressing into it had caused the pain.
`Me on schooner all long time,' answered Full Moon.
Ginger sat silent for a moment, trying to force his aching brain to assimilate this piece of information. 'On the schooner?' he got out at last. 'You mean you were on the schooner when they threw me over?'
`Yes, I stay on schooner all day, hide under sail.'
Ginger shook his head. The business was becoming more and more unbelievable. 'Where is Shell-Breaker?' he asked suddenly.
`He take dinghy and go Rutuona plenty quick,' returned Full Moon.
`But how did you get on the schooner?'
Full Moon explained. 'When you get hit on head. by Atanelli, Shell-Breaker swim fast under water. He tell me. We go back. Shell-Breaker take dinghy. I stay to see what Atanelli do. Me hide in sail, see everything. See Solomon boys throw you overboard. Me swim down, but you kick like debil-debil. I cut rope, but reckon you die plenty quick, so I pull you on reef.'
Ginger was still inclined to believe that the whole thing had been a ghastly nightmare, but he saw that the rope was still round his waist, with a short end hanging to it, and he knew that it must have happened. For a little while he was so overcome by the simple devotion of the two Marquesans that he could not trust himself to speak. 'Full Moon, one day I thank you for this,' he said at last, huskily. 'I think you're wonderful.'
Full Moon laughed. 'What for wonderful?' she asked,
naïvely. 'Me no run away when plenty trouble. Me glad
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when you go overboard; no longer wonder how save you from schooner.'
`Well, I reckon you're a brick,' declared Ginger. `What is brick?' inquired Full Moon curiously.
Ginger could not find an adequate answer. 'Never mind,'
he said, and stood up, shakily.
`We stay here,' said Full Moon. 'Shell-Breaker he come back bymeby with long canoe.'
Ginger looked round. 'Did you say we were on the reef?' `Yes, on reef.'
Atanelli gone?'
`Yes, he make sail'
Òne day I'm going to give myself the pleasure of shooting that scoundrel,' declared Ginger.
`Yes, me kill, too,' answered Full Moon, cheerfully.
Ginger had to kneel down again as he was shaken by another spasm of retching. He still felt deadly sick as a result of all the salt water he had swallowed, but after a time he got up and announced that he was able to get to the island. The moon had just come up, and he looked along the reef, which hitherto he had not examined very closely. He had a horror of entering the water again, but examining the reef he saw that it was possible to get to the island without swimming. He suggested this to Full Moon, who agreed that it was the best way.
Àny feke on these rocks?' asked Ginger, cautiously.
Full Moon saw nothing unusual in the question. 'Maybe,' she said, eyeing the reef with professional eyes. Then she shook her head. `No feke,' she decided. 'Plenty crab. No crab if feke here.'
`Well, that's something to be thankful for, at any rate,' muttered Ginger, to whom an octopus was one degree worse than a shark.
`We walk now,' suggested Full Moon. 'You drink plenty coconut water you feel better bymeby.'
`Yes, I could do with a drink,' agreed Ginger, whose mouth was parched from swallowing salt water.
Full Moon cut the remains of the rope from his waist. Then, hand in hand, they walked slowly up the moonlit coral to the top of the reef, where they pulled up dead, staring unbelievably. Instead of finding only the sea stretching to the horizon they saw a schooner standing straight to132
wards the entrance to the lagoon. It was not more than a hundred yards away. Full Moon recovered her presence of mind first. Àtanelli, he come back,' she hissed, and dropped behind a large piece of coral.
Ginger was too stunned to speak. It was the very last thing he expected. Taking his cue from Full Moon, he dropped behind another large piece of coral, but quick as he had been he was too late. A yell on the schooner told him that they had been seen. Full Moon sprang to her feet. 'We run plenty quick,' she said tersely and set off along the reef towards the island, jumping from rock to rock with the sure-footedness of a mountain goat.
Ginger followed as fast as he could, but he had by no means recovered from his recent terrible experience, and his legs tottered under him. Seeing his condition, Full Moon waited and helped him over the most difficult places, but they were still some distance from the place
j
where the reef joined the island when a rifle barked, and a shot tore away a piece of coral unpleasantly close to them. Looking back, Ginger saw that the schooner was already passing through the entrance to the lagoon, and although it was moving slowly the longboat was swinging over the side. Another shot zipped viciously into the coral - and he ran on. He knew all about the difficulty of shooting accurately by moonlight, but he took no chances. Actually, he was more concerned for Full Moon than for himself. Jumping from rock to rock they sped on, taking advantage of such cover as was available, and Ginger's weakness was almost forgotten in the face of the new peril. Castanelli—for Ginger had no doubt as to who wa
s doing the shooting—continued to fire from time to time, but although some of the shots came close they did no damage. But by the time the two fugitives had reached the island the longboat was racing across the lagoon, the rowers bending to their oars under Castanelli's furious encouragement. Ginger and Full Moon did not stop. The reef joined the island at its narrowest end, and it was clear that if Castanelli and his crew reached the island in time to cut them off from the wider end their capture was only a matter of
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minutes. The far end of the island was not only wider, but more rugged, and offered better hiding-places.
Ginger now led the way, making for the far side of the ridge where they could not be seen from the lagoon, and were therefore out of the danger of Castanelli's rifle. The going was not easy, for debris flung up by the hurricane lay everywhere—palm-fronds, piles of seaweed, and masses of coral—and detours had often to be made. However, they reached the wide end of the island, where Ginger, risking a peep over the ridge, saw the longboat being hauled up on the beach. Castanelli was already standing on the white sand, his rifle under his arm.
`Confound the fellow, what the dickens does he want to come back here for?' muttered Ginger angrily. 'I wish to goodness I had a rifle.'
Full Moon made no comment. Perhaps she knew the futility of wishing. Ginger thought rapidly. To remain hidden indefinitely on the island was clearly impossible. They might climb up into one of the few remaining palms, or find a place among the coral that would offer them cover for a little while; but once daylight came discovery would only be a matter of time. Had their presence on-the island not been known to Castanelli the matter would not have been so difficult. In that case there would be no deliberate search. But now it was known that they were there, it was obvious that the schooner captain would search every nook and cranny; and he would not desist until he .had found them. The Corsican had already revealed himself to be a cold-blooded murderer, so in the event of capture Ginger knew what to expect. Castanelli would make certain next time. On the whole island there was only one place where they would be safe, and that was in the grotto. Even the Solomon Island boys might search for weeks without finding it. It was their only chance, and he told Full Moon so in a low voice. She had already realized it, and now set off towards the cove, picking up coconuts on the way. Ginger, perceiving the wisdom of this precaution, did the same. He knew that they might have to stay in the grotto for several days.
Biggles In the South Seas Page 14
