by W E Johns
A squat, bulky ship took shape in the darkness, not more than a cable’s length away. Evidently the look-out did not see him, for it ploughed straight on without altering course, chugging into the darkness of the night on its unknown mission. Drawing a deep breath, and cupping his hands round his mouth, he let out a hail.
It was answered immediately.
‘Ahoy there! Who are you?’ came a voice – in English.
Ginger fairly gasped with relief. ‘Friend!’ he yelled back. ‘I’m in an aircraft, on the water. I’ve run out of fuel.’
‘Stand by while we come about,’ sang the unseen sailor.
A bell rang and the black hull slowed down, churning the water as it swung round in a wide curve. In a few minutes it was alongside, and Ginger could just see a knot of figures near the rail discussing him in low tones. He heard someone say, ‘Blimey! Look out, it’s a Jerry bus.’ Whereupon he called out that the machine was, in fact, a German plane in which he had been trying to escape, but had landed on account of fuel shortage.
No doubt his voice did much to prove his assertion, and he was soon taken aboard what turned out to be a British armed trawler, under the command of a naval officer. The aircraft having been taken in tow, Ginger was led to a cabin, where he explained his plight to two keen-faced officers, one of whom was the captain. To them, hardly pausing for breath, he poured out his story, laying particular emphasis on the trap that had been laid in Westfiord for the British fleet. He also described the base which the Germans had established in Fiord 21, and mentioned the store-ship that was still there.
When he had finished he was given some refreshment while the naval officers withdrew to confer. ‘Whatever you do you must stop the fleet,’ he told them desperately. ‘I suppose you’ve got a wireless?’
‘We have, but we’re sailing under orders,’ replied the captain. ‘What’s more, we’re only supposed to use our radio in case of dire emergency. It’s dangerous. The enemy can pick a message up as well as our people, don’t forget.’
‘But you’ve got a code.’
‘Yes, we have,’ admitted the naval officer, who seemed to be rather worried.
And that is all Ginger was told. The officers departed and a steward brought into the cabin a square meal, which pleased Ginger not a little, for he felt that he could now safely leave things to the Navy. Somehow or other they would do what was required. What he himself was going to do he did not know. Engrossed in his meal, and thinking of the present rather than of the future, he had not even considered this aspect when he was flung across the cabin by a fearful explosion which took him completely unawares. Instantly all the lights went out.
As he picked himself up he heard shouts on the deck above, and other noises which convinced him in a vague sort of way – for he was too shaken for lucid thought – that the ship had blown up. His meal forgotten, he made his way – not without difficulty for the trawler had taken on a heavy list – to the deck. He realized that some sailors near him were lowering a boat, but the darkness was such that he could see nothing distinctly; nor could he make out what was happening. The trailer lurched again, and almost before he was aware of his danger water was swirling round his legs. A sailor hurried past him, shouting, ‘Swim for it, boys!’
Ginger would have asked him what had happened, but before he could do so the man had disappeared into the darkness. He moved forward, only to fall over what turned out to be a pile of lifebelts. Not knowing the ship, he had no idea where he was. There was no confusion; occasionally he saw forms in the gloom, but beyond the fact that the trawler was sinking he could not get a grasp on the situation. All he could see fairly clearly were the upper works of the vessel; they were leaning over at an angle so acute that they made him feel giddy. The doomed vessel lurched again, causing a great hissing of steam, and he realized that if he were to avoid being sucked down in the vortex, the sailor’s advice to ‘swim for it’ was not to be ignored. Sliding across the deck, he jumped blindly into the sea, and as soon as he came to the surface he started swimming as fast as he could to place as great a distance as possible between him and the vessel. He could still see nothing, but there were shouts in the darkness around him. They sounded strangely unreal.
Whether he swam into the submarine, or whether it rose up under him, he never knew. He was suddenly aware of a black bulk right beside him, and, instinctively, he tried to climb on to it; but his clawing fingers could get no grip on the smooth metal. After that the whole thing became a nightmare. He didn’t know what was happening and he didn’t much care. The fact was that exhaustion and shock had reduced him to a state of semi-consciousness. In a dreamy sort of way he was aware of hands clutching at his jacket, and dragging him up. What happened after that he did not know.
1 German twin-engine fighter, often abbreviated to ME110.
CHAPTER 14
TRAPPED!
AFTER HE HAD watched Ginger out of sight Biggles made his way cautiously to the fiord. It took him some time to reach it, and if he had entertained any doubts about its still being occupied they were dispelled even before he reached the rim. Judging from numerous voices, and a certain amount of hammering, it sounded as if salvage work was in progress.
From the edge of the cliff, which by this time he knew well, he looked down; but all was shrouded in darkness, and except for a cluster of lights near the stranded store-ship, whence came the noise of hammering, he could see nothing. It was towards this ship that Algy had been led, so he assumed – and hoped – that he would be in it. All his plans for rescue depended on that one fact. If Algy was not there, then he would not know where to look for him; but if he had been confined in the ship, then one factor was in his favour. He had not failed to note that the airmen and the sailors went about their work almost unmindful of each other, so there seemed a reasonable chance that, although the German airmen had been informed by Schaffer of his suspicions concerning Biggles’s real identity, the sailors knew nothing about it. After all, he thought, as far as the officers of the Air Squadron were concerned, he, Biggles, was by this time safely lodged in Oslo; and there appeared to be no reason why they should discuss the matter with the sailors. If that were so, then the sailors would know nothing about him. They would not know him by sight even if they saw him, and they certainly would not be prepared for an attempt to rescue their prisoner.
Biggles made his way down the landslide without any great difficulty, but he took no chances and moved with extreme caution. Having reached the water-level, he then had to make his way along it to the rock on which the ship was beached. Fortunately it lay between him and the airmen’s camp, so he was saved the difficult business of getting through that. Looking along the beach, he could just make out the silhouette of a Dornier flying-boat riding at anchor a few yards from the shore, and he noted its position carefully.
What concerned him now was the fact that the ship lay a short distance out – perhaps thirty or forty yards. In order that the sailors could get to and fro, an improvised gangway, consisting of a number of planks, had been erected. This gangway was in constant use, and on the face of it, it appeared to be out of the question to get on board without coming face to face with some of the sailors. Admittedly, he was wearing a German officer’s uniform, so there was a chance that the seamen would take no notice of him. Even if he were questioned, he thought, he might be able to bluff his way through. Nevertheless, this involved a certain amount of risk which would be better avoided if it were possible. After considering the problem for a little while he decided he would only use the gangway if he could find no other means of getting on board.
Moving nearer, he was delighted but not altogether surprised to see on the water, close to the narrow strip of beach, a small collapsible canoe, of the sort used by the marine branch of the German Air Force; that is to say, it was of the pneumatic type, to be inflated when required. Such boats were standard equipment in all German seagoing aircraft. Evidently it had been required for some purpose, presumably to enable the s
ailors to get to and from the ship without using the gangway – or else to enable them to examine the far side of the ship from water-level. Biggles felt that if he could secure this useful craft without being observed it would serve his purpose admirably.
The fact that it was dark simplified his task; and that the sailors were too concerned with their respective duties to notice what others were doing, was another factor in his favour. So, taking every opportunity when the coast was clear, he worked his way along the beach, drawing ever closer to his objective, until at last he slipped quietly into the frail craft and pushed himself clear. Any noise that he made, and it was negligible, was drowned in the hammering that was still going on. Picking up the paddle, he worked his way round to the far side of the ship – that is, the side farthest from the shore, and from which, of course, he could not be seen from the beach. Here he felt comparatively safe, and he experienced that thrill of satisfaction which comes when a difficult job has been well begun.
The next step was to discover, if possible, the cabin in which Algy was confined. That it would be fitted with a porthole he felt sure, but even so there was no indication of the side of the ship it would be on. He had simply gone to the far side because it presented less danger than the near side. If he could not locate Algy, then he would have to go aboard to seek him, trusting in his uniform, or the Gestapo pass, to carry him through if he were questioned.
He spent nearly half an hour working up and down the side of the vessel, trying each porthole in turn, peeping into those that were open and tapping on the glass of those which were not. But it was all in vain, and finally he was compelled reluctantly to conclude that Algy must be on the other side of the ship; either that or in a central hold unprovided with any direct communication with the outer air. It was clear that no further progress could be made unless he actually went on board the ship, and this he now determined to do. A rope ladder hung conveniently – too conveniently he afterwards realized – from the rail, and up this he now proceeded. As his eyes drew level with the deck he looked around. Not a soul was about. In a moment he had swung a leg over the bulwarks and was aboard. A ventilator offered a handy hiding-place, but he had not taken more than two paces towards it when a voice spoke.
‘Welcome aboard, Major Bigglesworth,’ it said mockingly.
Biggles spun round. And that was all he could do, for menacing him from half a dozen places were as many weapons. He could not distinguish the features of the man who had spoken, but he recognized the voice only too well: it was that of von Stalhein.
The German stepped forward. ‘We were expecting you,’ he said suavely.
‘And just why were you expecting me?’ inquired Biggles.
Von Stalhein laughed softly. ‘With Lacey here, a prisoner, it was obviously only a question of time before you arrived.’
Biggles perceived the truth of this assertion, and bit his lip in vexation.
‘I was so sure that you’d come,’ continued von Stalhein pleasantly, ‘that I arranged for a boat to be convenient, and for a rope ladder to enable you to get aboard. So you see, Major Bigglesworth, we can do a little planning – as well as you.’
‘You’ve been so slow about it this time that I’d almost forgotten it,’ rejoined Biggles smoothly. ‘I’ll be more careful on future occasions.’
‘It is unlikely that there will be any future occasions,’ said von Stalhein softly.
‘I seem to have heard you say that before, too,’ Biggles told him.
‘Quite right,’ admitted the German frankly, ‘but we all learn from experience – or we should. As far as you are concerned, I’m afraid the opportunity has passed. Hitherto it has always been a source of irritation to me that at least one of you was at large, even though I held the other two; but at last, as was bound to happen sooner or later, I have you all in the net together. You cannot imagine the satisfaction that it gives me.’
Biggles did not understand. He knew, of course, that Algy was a prisoner, but von Stalhein spoke as if he held Ginger, too, and that, surely, was impossible. He suspected a trap, and was careful to be non-committal in his reply. ‘Congratulations,’ was all he said.
‘Ah, I see there is a doubt in your mind,’ continued von Stalhein imperturbably. ‘A doubt about our young friend with the difficult name – Hebblethwaite. You will be sorry to learn that he has had a piece of bad luck.’
‘Really?’ Biggles was still taking no chances of giving information away.
‘Yes,’ went on the other, fitting a cigarette into a long holder. ‘He had the misfortune to fall into the sea, where he would certainly have drowned had it not been for the timely arrival of one of our submarines, which rescued him. The commander of the submarine that picked him up signalled to his base for instructions, so, naturally, as the boat was not far away, I asked for him to be brought here. Presently you will all be together, when you will be able to compare notes, and ascertain, perhaps, how and where your plan went wrong.’
Biggles did not know whether to believe him or not, but it was not like the German to lie over such a matter; there appeared to be no point in it; moreover, there was a ring of confidence in his voice that made the statement sound like the truth. Biggles realized that such a state of affairs as the one von Stalhein had described might easily have come to pass.
‘You certainly seem to hold all the cards,’ he conceded. ‘What are you going to do about it?’
Von Stalhein ignored the question. ‘How would you like to have a chat with Lacey?’ he suggested.
‘Thanks.’
‘I am sorry Hebblethwaite is not here yet, but his arrival cannot be long delayed. When he comes I’ll send him down to join you. I’m sure he will be overjoyed to see you again, even though, of course, the reunion will be for a short time only. I am very busy at the moment, as you will readily believe, but I can give you until the morning to write any messages that you may wish to send home. Colonel Raymond, for example, will doubtless be anxious to hear how it all came about – unless he is too overwhelmed by the disaster which by that time will have overtaken the British naval forces operating on the Norwegian coast. With your admirable knack of learning things, no doubt you have heard about the little surprise we have in store.’
‘Mind your scheme doesn’t go off in your hand and burn your fingers,’ warned Biggles coolly. ‘The ships aren’t in the fiord yet.’
He spoke mockingly, but his heart was sick, for if what von Stalhein had said was indeed true, and there seemed little reason to doubt it, then he could not imagine how the fleet could escape.
Von Stalhein went on. ‘After your recent feverish activities – carried out, I must confess, with your customary initiative and zeal – you must be weary. Come below and join Lacey. Oh, we’d better have that pistol of yours, if you don’t mind.’
Biggles had no alternative but to hand over the weapon. To attempt to use it at this juncture would have been suicidal, for he was still covered by half a dozen weapons at point-blank range. Having handed it over, he proceeded with an escort down the companionway.
As he had already begun to suspect, the cabin in which Algy was confined turned out to be in the middle of the ship. Light was admitted during the day through a heavy glass skylight in the deck immediately overhead. An armed sentry was on duty outside the door.
Von Stalhein opened it and went in. The cabin was lighted by a single unprotected electric-light globe. ‘A friend of yours to see you,’ he said, with just a trace of cold humour in his voice.
Algy was sitting on a bunk, but he jumped up when he saw Biggles. ‘Hello! I expected you’d be along,’ he said cheerfully.
Von Stalhein screwed his monocle into his eye. ‘This is a picture I’ve always wanted to see,’ he remarked softly. ‘Well, I shall have to leave you now. Make the most of your time. The fiord will be abandoned first thing in the morning, but as our accommodation is limited you will not be coming with us.’
‘Quite so,’ answered Biggles calmly.
�
�Your young friend will be joining you shortly,’ promised von Stalhein, and went out.
The door was bolted on the outside, and the sentry resumed his pacing up and down.
Biggles seated himself on the bunk. ‘So here we are,’ he murmured.
‘How did it happen?’ asked Algy – referring, of course, to Biggles’s capture.
‘I was trying to get to you, but unfortunately von Stalhein anticipated the move and was waiting for me. I should have come anyway, of course.’
‘I was afraid of that,’ said Algy sadly. ‘I suppose he told you about Ginger being captured?’
Biggles nodded.
‘D’you think it’s true?’
‘I’m afraid it is. I don’t see what purpose he could have in lying to us.’
‘How did they get hold of him, I wonder?’
‘We got together during the day,’ explained Biggles. ‘You saw me take off with Schaffer? As soon as we were in the air I grabbed the machine. Ginger was hanging about outside the fiord, and in trying to shoot us down got shot down himself. I picked him up, and then came ashore while he went off in the machine to look for the fleet. Presumably he was shot down, or ran out of petrol; anyway, he must have found himself on the water, and was picked up by a U-boat. It’s this business of the fleet that upsets me more than anything.’
‘He might have got through to it.’
Biggles shook his head. ‘I doubt it. If he did, it’s unlikely that he would have been captured.’
‘He might have delivered the message and then started back to pick us up, hoping that we’d got away.’
‘There’s just a chance of that,’ agreed Biggles, ‘but somehow it doesn’t strike me as being the answer. If he was picked up by a U-boat, then he must have been in the water, and had all been well he wouldn’t have been in that position.’
Algy shook his head. ‘I still think he might have been prowling about the coast looking for us, and ran into trouble.’
