by W E Johns
There were now two Lightnings on the island but the fuel was low in the tanks of both. This, however, was remedied when half an hour later the first Liberator arrived. Markers were put out for it. For Biggles, who stood watching, the actual landing was a brief period of a acute suspense, for as yet there had been no proof that the runway would stand up to the strain imposed on it by an aircraft of the weight of a Liberator. The timber landing area sagged a little, that was all, and he drew a deep breath of relief when the powerful wheel brakes came into action to pull the machine up with a fair margin of safety. He hurried down to greet the pilot, the others following. It was Angus. He climbed up beside him and directed him to the shelter.
‘I’m carrying a load of petrol,’ announced Angus. ‘Tex and Tug are following me,’ he went on, as they climbed down, Angus buffeting himself to restore circulation. ‘No doot Taffy told ye about Henry waiting for the Gosling? That leaves two Liberators at Madras waiting for pilots. I’m sorry aboot Algy. Taffy told us.’
Biggles nodded. ‘It’ll make us short-handed. I must have been crazy to think that ten of us could handle a job of this size. I didn’t allow for casualties. Still, having started, we shall have to go on. Sorry, Angus, but I’m afraid you’ll have to go straight back. It isn’t only a matter of getting a load of rubber across; we’ve got to get the others across so that we can start operating at full strength. Ginger will stay here with me. Now we’re all right for petrol we’ll handle the Lightnings – should it become necessary. But we’d better get the petrol unloaded; we may need it any time now. Ferocity shot down a Kawanishi a little while ago and I fancy the enemy will soon be sending another machine over to look for it.’
The petrol which the Liberator had brought was unloaded and dumped and the tanks of the two Lightnings were filled, these tasks occupying some time. Hardly were they finished when a drone in the west announced the arrival of another Liberator. They all stood waiting while the machine came in. Suddenly Biggles swung round and stared towards the east.
‘Confound it!’ he snapped. ‘Just what I didn’t want to happen.’ He pointed at a speck in the sky that was moving towards the island from the mainland. ‘If that Jap sees the Liberator land our game will soon be up,’ he went on tersely. ‘He mustn’t see it. I’ll go after him. Ginger, take the other Lightning and get out over the strait in case he dodges me.’
The two Lightnings took off one behind the other. Biggles swung round in a steep climbing turn to the north. Ginger, holding his machine low, tore out across the strait for some distance before starting to climb. By now it was possible to identify the enemy plane as a Zero, flying at about ten thousand feet; but this time the pilot was wide awake and not to be caught. He must have seen the Lightnings – or one of them – for he turned suddenly and made for home, nose down. With plenty of height to spare Ginger realised that pursuit was futile – unless he followed the Zero to its base, which he felt sure was not Biggles’ intention. He saw Biggles turning back towards the lake so he did the same thing. The Liberator was landing so they had to wait for it to get clear before they could get in. They found Tex O’Hara in the shelter.
‘What goes on?’ demanded Tex. ‘You seem kinda busy.’
‘We’re a sight too busy,’ answered Biggles. ‘Instead of a quiet little hide-out this place is developing into a major airport. Did you notice a ship heading south-west as you came over – she’d be about twenty miles out?’
‘Sure I saw her.’
‘Was she all right?’
‘I didn’t notice anything wrong.’
‘That’s something, anyway,’ murmured Biggles. ‘She’s carrying eleven hundred tons of rubber, which is so much less for us to lug across. Pity that Zero got away, but I don’t think it saw very much. What have you brought, Tex?’
‘Cookies. You asked for ’em. What in thunder do you want ’em for?’
‘I just thought they might be handy. Let’s get them down and out of the way. I want these machines out of the way, too. Angus, see about loading up with rubber. Taffy and Ferocity will go back with you. Same with you, Tex. You can take Bertie. Take turns at the stick and you’ll get a rest. Ginger, slip along to Ayert and tell him to get his boys hauling the rubber.’
‘What do we do when we get back to India?’ asked Tex.
‘Turn round and come back. You’ll have to rest, of course, but don’t waste time. Sorry to rush you, boys, but we’ve got to get the job going – and going fast. Once the Japs rumble what’s happening here, and as far as they’re concerned Elephant Island must be beginning to stink, this place is going to be anything but a health resort.’
With the help of Ayert’s men the bombs were unloaded and rubber was being packed into both machines when the next Liberator arrived, and landed, with Tug Carrington at the controls. There was no room for it in the shelter so it had to wait outside. Biggles stood and watched the eastern sky with a worried frown until Angus announced that he was ready. Biggles waved him away. With Angus went Taffy and Ferocity. Tug taxied in. Soon afterwards Tex went off, taking Bertie. Tug’s Liberator was relieved of its burden of fuel and oil.
‘Shall I ask Ayert to load her up with rubber?’ asked Ginger.
Biggles sat on a log and mopped his face. ‘Just a minute. I’m getting dizzy. Gosh! This is navvies’ work. Let me think. How are you, Tug?’
Tug grinned. ‘Right as rain. Want me to carry on after the others?’
‘Not just yet,’ decided Biggles. ‘You know we’ve lost Algy and the Gosling? That leaves us only the two Lightnings, and I don’t like being stuck here without sufficient transport to get us all away should things come unstuck. I think you’d better hang around for a bit and rest – anyway, until Harry arrives with the new Gosling. I ought to go and see Major Marling but with all this going on here I don’t like leaving. Ginger, I think you’d better go to see Marling. Take one of the Lightnings. It’ll be more likely to get you out of trouble if you run into any than the Gosling, even if you waited for it. Marling said he’d have a landing ground ready and I don’t think he’s the sort of chap to let us down. Anyhow, if you can’t find a place to land you’ll have to come back.’
‘Okay. Just what do you want me to tell him?’
‘For a start, you’d better tell him about Algy, and these destroyers. I’m going to try to get Algy tonight. The destroyers will be in the estuary, I think. They’ll turn their guns on us, to say nothing of putting sailors ashore if there is a rumpus – and there’s likely to be one. I don’t see how it can be avoided. Ask Marling to break down or blow up that embankment that keeps the water in the river. Soon after sundown would be the best time because that would give the destroyers plenty of time to get in. Explain to him that the idea is to get them aground on the mud. It may not work but we can try it.’
‘Shall I go right away?’ asked Ginger.
‘You might as well. Keep clear of Victoria Point. Head north for a bit and then shoot straight across the jungle. Keep your eyes skinned for those destroyers; they must be getting close, and you don’t want to have any truck with them. Come straight back after you’ve explained things to Marling. If I’m not here you’ll find me on the hill watching for the destroyers through Li Chi’s glasses. I shall have to see just where they go.’
‘Shan’t be long,’ said Ginger, and walked down to his machine. In five minutes he was off, heading north preparatory to turning east.
Biggles spoke to Tug. ‘You’d better get some sleep,’ he advised. ‘You’ll find a bed in the bungalow. The cook will give you something to eat.’
‘So you’ve decided to leave my machine where it is?’
‘For the time being. She can’t be seen from topsides.’
‘I’m not really tired,’ declared Tug. ‘Sure there’s nothing you’d like me to do?’
‘Thanks, Tug. There’s one thing you can do if you feel up to it.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Take the spare Lightning and slip out and have a dekko at th
e Sumatran, to make sure she’s all right. You should find her on a course just south of west, getting on for a hundred miles out. It would be a load off my mind to know that she’s running out of the real danger zone.’
‘It’s as good as done,’ said Tug, and walked off to the aircraft.
1 High explosive.
2 Approximately three metres.
3 Artillery and anti-aircraft guns.
4 Slang: parachutes.
CHAPTER 15
SHOCKS FOR BIGGLES
AFTER WATCHING TUG take off, Biggles looked at his watch and saw that the time was after one o’clock. He realised that he was now the only one of the team left on the island.
For a little-while he sat still, deep in thought. He had no appetite for food. His face, with one of those rare complexions that never seem to get sunburned, was beginning to show signs of the strain imposed by the fast-moving events of the last forty-eight hours. The strain, of course, fell on all, but the responsibility of leadership was his alone. He was driving his pilots hard and he knew it. They had not complained and probably never would complain, but he did not need telling that they would not be able to stand the present pace for very long. The sultry heat was enervating and did not make for clear thinking. Yet decisions, important decisions involving risk of life to others, would have to be made – had already been made, almost from hour to hour.
The thought of Algy a prisoner in enemy hands affected him far more than he was prepared to reveal to the others. Probably they felt the same. While he did not allow himself to dwell upon the possibility of Algy or Ginger becoming a casualty there was always a fear of it lurking in the background of his mind. If one of them went it would make a difference. The others would go on and the war would go on but things would not be the same. In war, duty, as defined by the High Command, made no allowance for personal feelings; they were supposed not to exist, and the British fighting forces in their many wars had established a sort of tradition in this respect. However a man might feel, it was considered weak to let others see any sort of emotion. The whole thing was of course a pose. Everyone who had fought an action knew it – commanding officers more than anyone, although the rank and file did not always realise it; did not suspect that behind the dispassionate voice giving orders that would send men to their deaths, a man’s heart was being mauled. Perhaps it was a good thing. If men were going to break down every time a comrade failed to return, the will to win would soon break down. After it was all over – well, a man might let himself go. Alexander the Great had shut himself up in his tent for three days. Julius Caesar . . . Mark Antony . . . they had broken down and wept, and they were soldiers. Wellington had been unable to restrain his tears after Waterloo – and his troops called him the Iron Duke. Thus pondered Biggles, with gnawing anxiety in his heart, but with hardly a word of reference to Algy on his lips. His job was to get rubber, not indulge in private enterprises to satisfy personal feelings. Nevertheless, he mused, without comradeship a war would be hard to fight, and while he was not prepared to jeopardise his mission to save anyone, least of all himself, he was not prepared to let Algy go without making a desperate effort to save him.
He perceived clearly now the magnitude of the task he had undertaken. It had never looked easy even from the start; but now, with unforeseen difficulties cropping up at every turn it began to look hopeless. He had not made the admission to the others but he had very little hope of getting all the rubber away. The enemy knew that a force led by British officers was on Elephant Island. Obviously, a man like Tamashoa would not allow it to remain there – right on his doorstep, so to speak. An attack in force could be expected almost any time. Even if a landing on Elephant Island was not made it seemed likely that enemy bombers would soon be in action; the opportunity for their employment was too plain to be overlooked. The destroyers, unless they were put out of action, would almost certainly shell the island.1 Their arrival on the scene was an unexpected complication. The only bright spots that Biggles could see were the completion of the runway, which at least enabled him to operate, and the seizure of the Sumatran, which had cleared nearly a quarter of the rubber immediately available at one stroke.
Still thinking, with a movement that had become automatic, he tapped the ash from his cigarette. Presently, with Li Chi’s binoculars in his hand, he got up and walked to the end of the runway where he expected to find Ayert supervising its extension. The work was going on more slowly now that the logs at the water’s edge had been used; but the men had worked hard and had done a good job. The men were still there, working, but Ayers was not with them. Biggles mentioned his name, whereupon the nearest workman pointed to the shore. Ayert was there, talking with an almost naked coolie.
Biggles turned to go across to him, but before reaching the spot, he heard Tug coming back, so he waited for the Lightning to land to hear what he had to say. His nerves tightened when he saw the expression on Tug’s face. He ran the last few yards.
‘Sorry, chief, but I’m afraid it’s bad news,’ said Tug apologetically, as if it were his fault.
‘Go on,’ ordered Biggles tersely.
‘The Japs have collected the Sumatran – or it looks like it,’ said Tug. ‘She’s stopped, with another ship, a bigger ship, drawing up to her. It was hard to see exactly what was happening and I didn’t like to go too close in case they opened up on me . . . I thought I’d better come straight back to let you know.’
‘Thanks, Tug,’ said Biggles quietly. ‘It’s a nasty crack, but we did all we could. I suppose we were hoping for a lot, to think she might get away. I’d better stick to planes in future. You go and get some rest while you can. Ginger should be back any time now.’
Tug taxied on to the shelter while Biggles went across to Ayert, whom he imagined was talking to one of Li Chi’s spies that arrived from the mainland from time to time. The bosun saw him coming and walked to meet him.
‘Bad,’ said Ayert. ‘Velly much bad.’
‘What’s bad?’ asked Biggles.
‘Shansie finish. Marling tuan gone. Lalla gone. All gone. All finish. Japs take. Japs stay.’
Biggles steadied himself. This second blow, coming right on top of the one Tug had just given him, was hard to take. ‘How do you know this?’ he asked Ayert.
‘Man come. He speak.’
‘What man?’
‘Spy man from Victoria Point. He swim out in old canoe to north side of island then come walking. Man say Japs all talking. Say Shansie finish.’
‘And the Japs are still there?’
‘Yes, tuan. Japs there. Planes – many planes.’
‘I wish I’d known this half an hour ago,’ muttered Biggles. He was thinking of Ginger. ‘Thanks for the information, Ayert. Thank that man for coming. Good work.’
Ayert grinned. It was clear that as far as he was concerned this was all part of the day’s work.
But Biggles did not smile. The situation was too serious, and seemed to be deteriorating, as the official bulletins put it, faster than he could cope with it. Ginger had gone to Shansie and there was nothing he could do about it. However, it did not seem sufficient reason for abandoning his plan. On the contrary, there was now all the more reason why he should go on with it. He asked Ayert if he would go with him to the top of the hill to watch for the destroyers. Ayert, who knew every inch of the water, would be able to tell him what might not be apparent through the glasses. The big bosun acquiesced readily, and they were walking towards the track that led up the hill when the roar of an aircraft flying flat out brought Biggles round, staring, hoping. His face lit up when a Lightning came skimming over the treetops to make a quick, rather risky landing on the runway. Biggles dashed down to intercept it. As he drew near he noted bullet boles in the tail unit, but Ginger held up his thumbs to show that he was all right.
‘Watch your flying,’ commanded Biggles crisply. ‘We can’t afford crack-ups here.’
‘Sorry, I was in a hurry,’ said Ginger, jumping down.
�
�I know – that’s when you make mistakes. Bear it in mind. I hear the Japs are at Shansie.’
Ginger’s eyebrows went up. ‘How did you know?’
‘One of Li Chi’s spies just came in with the news. It is a fact, then?’
Ginger nodded. ‘Too true.’
‘Away goes my plan for busting the embankment and spilling the water.’
‘ ’Fraid so.’
‘What happened to you at Shansie?’
‘Nothing very much – except that I had the shock of my life. I got there all right, and seeing that the rice had been cut I was going down, thinking Marling had fixed the landing ground like he promised, when some silly fool opened up on me with a machine gun. If that hadn’t happened I should have landed and stepped right into it – the last thing I was thinking about was Japs. As it was I grabbed altitude in a hurry, I don’t mind admitting. Looking down I spotted Jap planes parked about under the trees. Zeros, I think they were, but I couldn’t be sure – I was in too much of a hurry. Some machines were starting up so I skidded out of the locality.’
‘Considering you didn’t land you’ve been a long time.’
‘I did a few circuits round the jungle and explored the river for quite a way to see if I could see anything of Marling or Lalla,’ explained Ginger.
‘Did you?’
‘Not a sign. I could see some machines in the distance, looking for me, I fancy, so I came home – not direct, in case I was followed, but via the northern end of the archipelago. I saw the destroyers. They were south of me, heading down the strait towards Victoria Point.’
‘Good enough,’ said Biggles. ‘You’d better put some patches on those holes in your tail. Then if you like you can join me. You’ll find me on the hill with Ayert. By the way, I’m afraid we’ve lost the Sumatran.’
‘What!’ Ginger looked shocked.
‘Tug went out to have a look at her – found her hove to with a big transport beside her.’
‘Heck! After all our sweat—’
‘I know. It’s a bad show. I don’t know what we shall do about Li Chi. I may get Tug to slip out again presently before it gets dark, to see what the ships are doing – which way they’re going. I must get along now.’ Biggles strode off to Ayert, who had waited.
