"All right. We can take it easy now," said Gimlet. "That doesn't mean you can wander about, you fellows. Keep well back. I have a feeling that we may not have seen the last of the enemy yet."
In this he was right. About an hour later, as the sun neared the distant rim of the sea, a destroyer appeared out of the north, steaming slowly southward along the coast.
"If that swipe spots us we're in fer trouble," said Copper in a husky whisper to Cub.
"Keep well back and sit still or he will spot us," said Gimlet. "I'll warrant someone is on the bridge of that destroyer with a telescope in his hand—and he won't be interested in the sea. This is the way he'll be looking."
No one moved. No one spoke. The party sat,
or lay, quite still, watching the sinister-looking craft steam slowly past, while the sun, looking like a monstrous toy balloon, sank into a sea of molten brass. The colours in the sky faded. Indigo shadows embraced the land and crept slowly out across the gently heaving water. A solitary star appeared. The only sound was the gentle lapping of little waves dying on the beach.
"If anyone wants to eat, now's the time," said Gimlet softly. "I reckon to move off at ten o'clock. We shall dump everything when we go. You'd better look over the dinghy, Copper, to make sure it's okay. No smoking, and no more talking than is necessary."
Copper rolled over on his side and whispered in Cub's ear. "Jest like ole times, ain't it?"
Cub nodded. As far as he was concerned it was too much like old times.
CHAPTER XV
THROUGH THE NET
THE time passed slowly, as always appears to be the case when there is nothing to do but wait for it to pass. A desultory meal was made, more as a matter of course than because anyone was really hungry. This finished, Copper and Trapper prepared the dinghy for sea. This did not take long, either, and afterwards, for an hour or more, there was nothing to do but count the minutes.
After a while, Trapper, who was near the entrace of the cave, turned to those inside and said: "Is there a lighthouse farther along the coast, to the south?"
Macgreggo answered. "There is no lighthouse for fifty miles or more, unless it is a new one." "What made you ask?" queried Gimlet.
"I can see a beam in the distance," replied Trapper. "It isn't there all the time. It comes and goes. That's why I think of a lighthouse."
"It might be that destroyer we saw, using its searchlight," suggested Gimlet uneasily. "If so, I hope it stays where it is," he added.
Another ten minutes passed, and then, somewhere above, a voice spoke, spoke in a sharp clear tone as if giving an order. This was followed by a clatter as if metal, or machinery of some sort, was being dumped.
In the cave nobody said a word, but attitudes became tense as everyone listened.
Then came more sounds, curious sounds, of a nature to invite speculation.
Still no one spoke. All those in the cave could do was listen, with mounting apprehension, to the murmur of several voices, intermingled with the scraping of metal on metal, and intermittent hammering. Once in a while a commanding voice spoke sharply.
Said Gimlet, at last, in a low voice to Macgreggo: "What do you make of it? Can you hear what they're talking about?"
"No. Only an occasional word. They seem to be putting something together," was the whispered answer.
Another five minutes passed, and then, to add to the mystery, a small engine of some sort was started up; and the noise this made allowed those in the cave to speak with less risk of discovery.
"What on earth are they doing?" breathed Cub.
"I don't know," answered Gimlet. "I only know that it's ten past nine, and if those fellows stay there it won't be possible for us to get away tonight without being seen. They're right on the edge of the cliff "
"If they remain there it's unlikely that we shall be able to get away at all," put in Macgreggo calmly. "Depend upon it, what they're doing has some connection with us.
When it gets daylight they'll probably come down to the beach, and if we're still here they are bound to see us."
"We shan't be here," asserted Gimlet. "It's tonight or never as far as we're concerned."
As he finished speaking the mystery was explained, explained in a manner as startling as it was unexpected. Cub's heart went down into his boots as the white beam of a searchlight leapt out across the water.
"So that's it," said Gimlet evenly. "They're fixing up portable searchlights along the coast, and by sheer bad luck for us they've decided on one right over our heads. That must have been one you saw farther to the south some time ago, Trapper. Well, I'm afraid it definitely knocks on the head any chance of getting away unseen."
"I told you we had stirred things up," murmured Macgreggo. "It's plain enough to see what has happened. Word has got back to headquarters in Baku of today's doing at the fort. No doubt they have learned there that the trouble was caused by foreigners entering the country. They will know by now why they came, and that they have the man they came to fetch.
Supposing them to have come by sea, they will expect them to leave the same way, and are doing everything in their power to prevent them from getting out.
Obviously, the coast is now being patrolled by day and night, by land, sea and air."
"Then let's do somethin' about it," said Copper bluntly. "I'll go and put that perishin' light out fer a start."
"Just a minute," Gimlet told him curtly. "We had better know what we are taking on before we do anything. Trapper, go and find out how many men are up there. I have an idea there are not
as many as there were. Now the searchlight is working the men who fixed it up may have gone on."
At this juncture, the searchlight, which had been sweeping the sea, was doused. But the engine continued running.
Trapper disappeared, and it was twenty anxious minutes before he came back. "There is a tent," he reported. "The searchlight is in front of it.
I could see only four men. Three are working the light. One sits by the tent. There is also a wire, a field telegraph, I think. I have cut it in a way that will make them think, when they find the place, that it was broken by accident in the rocks."
"Good," answered Gimlet. "Only four. We should be able to manage them.
We've no time to lose so let's get on with it." He got up. "We shall have to do this quietly," he went on. "No doubt there are mobile patrols moving up and down the coast, but if we can get twenty minutes clear start we ought to be all right. That should see us out of sight of anyone on the cliff—I mean, without the searchlight. At any cost we've got to put that light out of action."
Cub had started to get up, but Gimlet checked him. "You'll stay and take charge here," he ordered. "It'll take us a little while to get back, and we've none to waste, so as soon as you hear my okay whistle get the dinghy on the water and stand by to move fast." With that, followed by Copper and Trapper, he crept out into the night.
If Cub had found the waiting irksome before
this, and he had, he now found it almost intolerable. Not a sound came from outside to indicate what was happening—not that he expected to hear anything. Once, the searchlight came on, stabbing the darkness like a white-hot dagger. It swept the sea, near and far, and then swung round in a fiery arc to explore the land. Cub could see the reflection of it on the water, from which, again, the reflection was cast on their pallid faces.
Macgreggo, with his plaid round his shoulders, sat gazing moodily at the sea. The Pasha rested his face in his hands.
Cub's nerves jangled like broken banjo strings as the silence was suddenly shattered by a medley of noises that spoke of violence. There was a cry, a shot, a shout that ended abruptly, and then a fearful clatter of metal on metal. The engine stopped. Then came a tremendous crash in which could be heard the tinkle of breaking glass. Following this there was a minute of palpitating silence in which Cub forgot to breathe. Then, clear and unmistakable, came Gimlet's okay signal.
Cub sprang to his feet as if he had been pr
opelled by a spring. "Come on!" he cried, in a voice fervent with thankfulness that there was something to do at last. "The boat! Lay hold! Lift!"
Staggering over the uneven ground they carried the dinghy to the water and launched it. "
In you get," Cub told the others. "Grab a paddle, Macgreggo." He got in himself, picked up a paddle, and sat ready to use it.
Rocks rattling down the landslide told him that the raiding party was on its way back in a hurry; but it was some time before it appeared.
When it did, he noted that there were three figures. He could hear Copper muttering.
They came straight to the dinghy and scrambled in. Gimlet was last. "Dig water," he snapped. "Dig deep and dig hard, but watch your blades."
Cub dug deep. The unwieldy craft surged forward, but Copper was not satisfied. He snatched the paddle from Cub's hands and his great shoulders bent as he picked up the stroke. "Watch me tear water," he grunted.
Nothing was said for some time. Cub had no questions to ask, for it was evident from the absence of the light that the sortie had been successful. It was Gimlet who at last broke the silence. "Ten past ten,"
he announced. "We're all right for time, but drive on until we'
re clear of the coast. We spotted another patrol coming along just as we left."
Then Cub understood the urgency.
Luck, on the whole, was about even, he thought, now that he had time to look around.
Conditions were as perfect as could have been wished for the business on hand. The air was still. The sea was calm except for a long sleek swell which did not worry them, and there was just enough light, with a short-range visibility, to enable them to see what they were doing. Too much light would have been dangerous, and absolute darkness inconvenient. A light of some sort was moving along the cliff. Apart from that there was nothing to suggest that enemy troops were on the move.
"What happened to the searchlight?" asked Cub, although he had a pretty good idea.
"Copper pushed it off its platform," answered Gimlet. "It'll take a little time to get it working again, so we needn't worry any more about that."
"What happened to the men?" inquired Cub. "Did they give you any trouble?"
"They didn't get much chance," informed Copper grimly. "One of 'em'll
'ave a bit of a skullache when 'e wakes up, I reckon—but there, 'is pals'll see to 'im when they come along."
Cub was not interested in the details so he let it go at that.
On the whole, he thought, they had reason to be well satisfied with the state of affairs.
The only disconcerting note came from the Pasha, who, after a long look at the sky, remarked that he didn't trust the weather. The fact that the water was now placid was no proof that it would remain so. Storms could come suddenly and be severe, such as the one that had wrecked his yacht and cast him on a hostile shore. As he knew the sea better than anyone else, having spent so much time on it, his words were not to be ignored.
Cub wished he had kept his opinion to himself. However, as the weather was something beyond their control nothing more was said about it. Cub was content to see the start made in such favourable conditions.
The dinghy was urged on, through the dark water, with its blunt nose pointing seaward, by Copper and Trapper, who now had the paddles. All they needed now, opined Gimlet, was a couple of hours without interference.
By the end of half an hour it was estimated that a quarter of the distance to the rendezvous had been covered. The high coast line was beginning to fade, and Gimlet held the course by his pocket compass.
Around, all was gloom, and a silence broken only by the monotonous swirl of paddles as they dipped into the water.
It was soon after this that Cub's attention was drawn to a star low down over the southern horizon. At least, at first he took it to be a star; but looking at it again after a time he thought it had moved its position in relation to what was certainly a star above it. There was a yellowish look about it, too, that raised a doubt in his mind. He called Gimlet's attention to it. "Is that a star or a light?" he asked.
There was a long silence. Then Gimlet answered: "I don't know. It's hard to say."
"I had an idea that it moved," remarked Cub.
Nothing more was said about it, but when, some time later, a ghostly ray of light appeared far to the south, Cub observed: "They've got another of their searchlights going.
"
More time passed. Cub's attention remained focussed on the south. He had a suspicion, but was not prepared to voice it until he was sure. At length he stated, quietly but positively: "That thing we thought might be a star is a light. It's on a vessel of some sort, and the vessel is using a searchlight. I've been watching it for some time. It's moving."
"In that case it must be the destroyer we saw, coming back," answered Gimlet.
"It's bound to see us."
"Not necessarily. That will depend on how fast it's travelling, and even then, to some extent, how close to us it passes."
There the matter ended, although the danger was evident to everyone. Cub watched the light, and any slight doubt that remained was banished. The light was moving. Also, it was brighter. The ship was heading north, and if it held its course it would certainly pass at no great distance from the dinghy. The time was still a little short of eleven o'clock, which meant that the flying-boat could not be expected at the rendezvous for another hour.
The paddles rose and fell. The clumsy craft, deep laden, surged heavily through the water, appearing to make little progress. The yellow light low down in the southern sky grew slowly brighter, and, like an evil eye, ever more menacing. The pale flickering searchlight beam became a rigid finger of white light probing deep into the darkness, sometimes towards the land, sometimes seaward. Cub's eyes never left it. There was nothing else to look at, anyway. One thing was now plain. The factor governing the situation was time, and to Cub, in his anxiety, it seemed to stand still.
On one occasion the questing beam swung low over the dinghy, so that for a moment he could see
the faces of his companions, ash-grey in the ghostly luminosity. Not a sound came from the sky.
At long last Gimlet spoke again. "Okay. Easy all," he said softly. "This is about it. All we can do now is wait. I make it ten minutes to go."
Cub was still staring at the hateful light. To form anything like an accurate estimate of its distance away was not possible, but he judged it to be something between two and three miles. Then, for the first time since they had put to sea, a little breeze played on his cheek. Ripples slapped the dinghy, breaking into wisps of spray. Stars that had been shining in the north were no longer there.
"There is weather coming," said the Pasha. "I was afraid of it. I could smell it in the air."
"By the time it gets here we shall either be in the aircraft or in that destroyer," returned Gimlet, without emotion.
"I hope this pilot of yours is on time," remarked Macgreggo, with a hint of anxiety in his voice. "Much depends on it."
"He said twelve o'clock, and at twelve he'll be here if it's humanly possible. You can rely on that," asserted Gimlet. "There are still five minutes to go, and an aircraft can travel a long way in that time."
Two minutes passed, and then, from some indefinable point overhead, came the sound that all ears had been straining to catch—the whisper of a gliding aeroplane.
Gimlet moved quickly. "Make a shield with your jackets," he ordered crisply. And when this had been done, his torch, held upright, sent its silent message to the sky.
Cub's heart sank as the murmur of the aircraft, instead of coming nearer, began to fade.
He stared upward, but, of course, could see nothing. Then he looked at the lights of the destroyer, now desperately close, and still coming on.
"What's Biggles doing?" he muttered. "He must have seen the signal. Why doesn't he come down?"
"E must be able ter see that perishin' ship, too," growled Copper.
"Maybe that'
s why he hasn't come straight in," replied Gimlet. "Don't get in a flap. He knows what he's doing."
Cub's voice cut in sharply. "Look! There he is! He's down—miles away." He could have groaned in his consternation and despair as he pointed at a light that had now appeared on the water some distance to seaward of the destroyer. The vessel had obviously seen it too, for it had already begun to turn, it's searchlight swinging like a flail to cover the spot.
"It looks as if your man has mistaken the location," said Macgreggo, a hint of bitterness in his voice.
"I don't think so," returned Gimlet. "He must have seen my signal. There is this about it,"
he went on after a short pause, "whatever has happened he's taking that confounded ship to a safer distance from us."
This was clearly the case. The destroyer's lights were now moving fast, but no longer towards the dinghy. Then a gun flashed, and a split second later the air vibrated with the explosion.
Cub saw a feather of spray leap into the air. In the glaring white beam of the searchlight, now resting on the water, the spray looked like snow.
Again the destroyer's gun flashed.
"Not much sense taking the ship out of the way if he gets himself sunk doing it,"
remarked the Pasha.
Two or three minutes passed. The destroyer raced on, its guns hammering.
The light at which it had first fired was no longer there. Cub thought it had been hit, for shells had burst very close to it. Then, above the gunfire, came a sound that sent his heart leaping. It was the deep purr of aero engines.
A light began dotting and dashing in the darkness not far away. Gimlet's torch flashed back. The noise of aero engines swelled to a crescendo. And then, out of the darkness, appeared a great shape darker than the rest, water feathering from its bows.
The noise died abruptly to a gentle swishing. The aircraft lost way and came slowly to rest. Copper drove in his paddle and sent the dinghy towards it. Gimlet stood up, grabbed a wing-tip and drew the two vehicles together.
"Sorry to keep you waiting," said a voice, curiously dispassionate considering the circumstances. "How's things?" it added.
07 Gimlet Bores In Page 13
