by W E Johns
They saw two or three machines in the far distance as the sea came into sight, but the pilots were either not concerned with them or did not see them, for they made no move in the direction of the amphibian. The front main tank gave out just as they reached the coast, and Biggles switched over to the rear tank with a grimace at Algy, for he would have liked to have done better. The smoke of a steamer attracted his attention, and he saw with a shock that the wind, which had so opportunely blown Ginger across the lake when he had purloined Blackbeard's machine, had now swung right round in the opposite direction, and was directly in their teeth. This at once reduced their chances of reaching Sweden with a reasonable margin of fuel, but there was no help for it; they could only keep on.
The land faded away behind them, but they did not abandon their vigilance, knowing that both German and Russian sea and air craft operate over the Baltic, and there was still a chance that if the passage of the Vandal had been seen by watchers on the ground, a wireless message might send a machine, or machines, to intercept them. But as the day wore on into the afternoon, and still no aeroplanes were sighted, they began to congratulate themselves on their escape, and look joyfully ahead for land, which could only be Sweden, their objective. An exclamation of satisfaction escaped Biggles's lips when at last it appeared on the horizon.
'We've made it!' he shouted to Algy, and at that very moment the second tank failed. He switched over at once to the gravity tank, which contained about enough spirit to keep them in the air for another twenty minutes. 'I spoke too soon,' he went on grimly; 'it's going to be a close thing. If we can hold on long enough to get our wheels on Swedish soil, I don't mind.'
The coastline became more clearly defined, but they seemed to approach it with exasperating slow-ness, and all the time the precious petrol was being rapidly burnt up in the cylinders. Suddenly the engine coughed, spluttered and died away; the prop stopped, and the nose of the Vandal tilted down.
Biggles glanced at his altimeter and saw that the needle hovered on the five thousand mark. The shore was still a good five miles away. 'Can't do it,' he said calmly in the uncanny silence.
'We can-just,' contradicted Algy.
'We might if we were alone; we're four up, remember. We shall be about a quarter of a mile short. Still, if we can hit a town we shall be seen, and a boat will no doubt tow us in. Can you see a town anywhere-I can't.'
'Nor I,' replied Algy, 'I don't see a sign of life anywhere.'
"That's a pity,' answered Biggles, 'but we're lucky there isn't a big sea running, anyway. If the tide is right for us we may drift ashore; it looks low and sandy, thank goodness.'
He proved to be correct in his estimate as to how far the Vandal would glide with her heavy load, for she nosed down gently, and by holding her off as long as he could, Biggles at last touched the keel on the water about two or three hundred yards from the flat, sandy foreshore. 'So near and yet so far,' he muttered tritely. 'It seems silly to fail by such a narrow margin after coming so far, but we did our best. One would have thought there would have been a house of some sort about, even if it were only a fisherman's hut, but I can't see a blessed thing. I wonder which way the tide is running?'
'It's hard to tell,' replied Algy, climbing out of the cockpit to the top of the hull, where the other three joined him. 'Let's watch for a bit,' he suggested.
Half an hour later they were no nearer the shore, but they were some distance from the place where they had first landed, and it became clear that they were being carried down the coast, on a course parallel with it, by a strong current.
'We shall come to a village or something presently,' announced Algy confidently.
'I hope you're right. We shall soon have to start doing something.'
'Why-what do you mean?'
'Look at the sun!'
The others turned their eyes towards where the sun now glowed redly in the west.
'It's going to do something presently,' went on Biggles, 'but I am not quite sure what. That sun either means fog or wind.'
The others made no reply, but sat and watched the sun being slowly blotted out by a rapidly thickening haze. The horizon disappeared.
'Hark!' As Biggles spoke, he sprang to his feet, staring seaward. 'There they are, three of them,' he muttered tersely.
The others, following his outstretched arm, saw three tiny black specks against the grey sky, three specks that grew rapidly larger even as they watched.
'Probably Swedish Air Force machines,' said Algy. 'They go in for seaplanes quite a lot'
'I hope you're right, but I am afraid you're wrong,' Biggles told him calmly. 'I don't like the way they just changed their direction. They were heading pretty well due east a moment ago, and then it almost seemed as if they had spotted us by the way they turned. Yes,' he went on after a moment's pause, 'that settles it; that's Blackbeard's machine in front; there's no mistaking it. Hi! Where are you going?'
The last remark was addressed to Ginger, who had swung one leg over the side of the Vandal.
'We'd better swim for it, hadn't we?'
'Don't be a young fool; come back. Look at the rate we're drifting. How much headway do you think you'd make against that five-knot current? Come back here. Stand fast, everybody.'
There was no longer any doubt about either the identity or intentions of the pilots of the three sea-planes, for their engines were cut off and they began to glide down towards the helpless amphibian. At the last moment, either by pre-arrangement, or in obedience to a signal made by Blackbeard, who was leading, the two rear machines opened up their engines again and began circling, evidently in order to act as escort to the third machine which was now surging through the water at the end of its landing run.
A curious expression crept over Biggles' face as Blackbeard's seaplane, now swinging round in a wide turn towards them, suddenly assumed a dim, ghostly appearance. 'The fog!' he cried excitedly, 'the fog-it's coming down!'
Blackbeard seemed to realize it, too, for his machine yawed violently as he tried to bring it round too quickly; but he was too late. The outline of the seaplane became a vague, grey shadow that merged swiftly into the mist until it was lost to view. A moment later, curling fingers of white mist reached out towards the Vandal's wing-tips, filtered through the bracing wires, and then enfolded the whole machine in its clammy embrace.
For a full minute the four watchers on the Vandal stood staring stupidly into the grey pall, and then with
'What had we better do?' inquired Algy.
'Can you think of anything to do?' asked Biggles inquiringly.
'No, I can't, and that's a fact'
'Neither can I except sit here and wait until some-thing happens. It seems to me that everything depends on what occurs between now and when the fog lifts, although personally I don't think it will lift this side of nightfall; it's a typical evening fog caused by a change of temperature following evaporation during the heat of the day. We were lucky; it came in the nick of time, but it's a bit worrying. We were drifting at a good rate when it came down, and day-light might find us out of sight of land; on the other hand, we might drift ashore during the night.'
'Pity we couldn't have made that last two hundred yards,' muttered Ginger regretfully. 'I wonder—'
'Listen, my lad,' interrupted Biggles quietly, 'never worry your head wondering what might have happened–that doesn't matter two hoots. Always stick to facts; they are the only things that count. We didn't reach the coast, so all the wondering in the world about what might have happened if we had is a sheer waste of time. Remember that'
'OK chief,' replied Ginger obediently.
'Well, it will soon be getting dark by the look of it,' went on Biggles, 'so some of us might as well see about taking a rest. We'll keep watches as before, two on duty and two off. If Blackbeard's machine is on the water we may drift together, so keep a good look-out. If we do collide, we'll try and fend him off; we'll avoid trouble as long as we can.'
one accord they turned toward
s each other. The roar of the engines of the two machines overhead made conversation almost impossible, but presently the noise began to recede, and Biggles grinned derisively. 'They're climbing out of it-and so should I,' he observed. 'This is about the rummiest state of affairs I ever struck in my life. What I should really like to know is, is Blackbeard still on the water, or did he take off again when he saw what was happening? I had an idea that he opened his throttle again at the last moment, but the other two machines were making such a row that I couldn't be sure.'
'Yes, he opened up again,' declared Smyth, 'but I think that was in order to try and reach us before the fog blotted us out. I don't think he took off.'
'Stand still, let's listen,' said Biggles.
They stood silent for a little while, but the only sound that reached them was the fast-diminishing drone of the machines in the air, but whether there were two or three of them it was impossible to say.
'Everybody keep his eyes skinned,' ordered Biggles sharply. 'If Blackbeard is on the water, we don't want him barging into us in this murk. I wonder how he got his machine back? Somebody must have seen it on the lake after we left, I expect, and somebody else told the authorities the direction we were taking. Could anybody see how many people there were in the cabin?'
'Two, I think,' put in Ginger. 'I saw a face looking at us out of the side cabin window, and I thought there was another face behind, but I couldn't be quite sure.'
'All right, but we must be quiet. Sound carries a long way in this atmosphere.'
Chapter 14
Blackbeard Speaks
It was pitch dark when Biggles, whose turn it was to rest, was awakened by Ginger shaking his shoulder. 'What is it?' he asked quickly.
'We're drifting ashore.'
'Are you certain?'
'Positive. I can hear waves lapping.'
Biggles hurried through to the cockpit just as the machine gave a lurch and remained tilted on its side. 'You're right,' he said softly, 'we're aground. What's about the time?'
'I don't know, but it must be getting on towards daylight,' answered Smyth, who was keeping watch with Ginger.
'I see; wake up Mr Lacey, one of you, will you?' Biggles climbed over the side and found he could stand in about two feet of water. The fog was, if any-thing, more dense than ever, and in the darkness it was impossible to see a yard.
'What about it?' asked Algy, joining him.
Biggles drew a deep breath and shook his head doubtfully. 'God knows,' he said, 'this has got me baffled. We may be on the mainland and we may be on an island; we may be just aground in shoal water. We daren't risk leaving the machine; we should never find it again in this muck, and if we happen to be on a sandbank we should be in a mess. I don't think anybody could go five yards in this without losing all sense of direction. The machine might even drift away and leave us stranded if we left her. I don't even know whether the tide is going in or out, so inside ten minutes the machine may be either afloat again, or high and dry.'
'Someone might stay with the machine and keep in touch with the others by shouting.'
'Useless! It's hopeless to try and locate a sound in this sort of stuff; one moment it seems to come from one direction and the next from somewhere else. We can't afford to lose the Vandal. I'm afraid we shall have to sit tight until the fog lifts. How long is our anchor line? We might tie someone on to the end of it and let him do a bit of exploring.'
'About fifty or sixty feet'
'Get it out, will you.'
'I'll do the exploring,' suggested Ginger.
'No, you don't, my lad, not this time. Tie the rope round your waist, Algy, and we'll pay it out from here. You give a tug when you want to come back-we'd better not do any shouting. Go straight ahead and try to find out if we're on the shore. If we are, we've nothing to fear from Blackbeard, because we could make a bolt for it if it came to the worst, although I should be sorry to have to leave the machine.'
Algy tied the rope to his belt and disappeared into the darkness on the shallow side of the machine. He remained away for so long without any sort of signal that the others began to get anxious, for the line was out at its full length. At last the expected tug came, and he reappeared, soaked to the skin, and his teeth chattered with cold. 'I can't make it out,' he said as he scrambled aboard. 'There's dry sand a few yards ahead, but I can hear water on the other side. I'm afraid it's a sandbank. I went up to the right after-wards, as far as the line would permit, and I heard someone talking. It sounded like two or three people having an argument.'
'How far away?' asked Biggles quickly.
'It's impossible to say, but not more than a hundred yards at the outside, I should think. The fog, when you are out in it, is simply appalling. I got so giddy that I fell down two or three times.'
'That's Blackbeard, and if you could hear them, then they've probably heard us.'
'I don't think so. What little breeze there is is blowing this way, and we've kept our voices fairly low.'
'Great Scot' muttered Biggles irritably, 'I shall go crazy before this trip is over. I've been in some funny jams, but I've never seen anything so absolutely foot-ling as this. I've been lost before, but this is about the limit. You say you could hear water the other side of the sand?'
'It sounded like it to me.'
'Then we must be on a sandbank.'
'I'm afraid you're right, but why take it for granted that the voices are those of Blackbeard and his passengers?'
'Because it stands to reason that we should drift at the same rate. The machines weren't a hundred yards apart when the mist blotted us out. If Blackbeard shut off his engine for fear of colliding with us, as he probably would for fear of smashing his prop, we should both drift along at the same rate and come ashore pretty well at the same spot.'
'Yes, I suppose we should,' admitted Algy, 'but if that is the case they must be as helpless as we are.'
'Of course they are. They've got an engine, but it isn't much use to them, and it won't be until the fog lifts. They couldn't hope to find us in this stuff, and there would be a good chance of them getting out of the locality altogether. They are bound to wait until it gets light before they do anything.'
'In which case we shall be in a nasty mess. They'll shoot us up with their machine-gun,' muttered Ginger.
'Machine-gun!'
'Yes, didn't you see it; the fellow in the cabin shoved it through the window just as the fog came.'
'That puts a different complexion on matters,' said Biggles slowly. 'I see the idea now. I was wondering how they proposed to take us back with them if they did catch us, but, of course, it would be easier to sink us. We might have expected it. They wouldn't have bothered to have followed us if they hadn't decided on drastic action. Unfortunately they must know we are out of petrol, too, or have had a breakdown, otherwise we shouldn't have landed where we did. It will be interesting to see what happens when the curtain goes up.'
'Did you say interesting?' asked Ginger incredulously. 'Sitting here and being shot by two Huns with a machine-gun isn't my idea of an interesting performance. Why stay here, anyway. Why not attack them now while they are unprepared?'
Biggles smiled. 'That sort of thing may be all right in books,' he said, 'but it doesn't work in real life. This is nineteen thirty-four. What on earth should we do with them if we caught them? Kill them? That's murder. No, we can't do that, and we can't take prisoners, even supposing we had that opportunity. On the other hand, if they happened to be wide awake, and met us with a tune out of their gun, we should look pretty foolish. Suppose we found that we couldn't reach them after all, and then found that we'd lost the Vandal, what four silly asses we should look in the morning marooned on a sandbank with the tide coming in.'
'I wasn't thinking of anything so daft as leaving the Vandal,' answered Ginger. 'We could take her with us.'
'That's an idea,' agreed Biggles quickly, 'but this attack scheme is no use. All the same, we might try towing the machine in the other direction, ke
eping in shallow water. If we find it runs deep, we can climb aboard and let her drift, although there would be a risk of being blown out to sea, but the farther we get from our Boche friends before daylight, the happier I shall feel. Well, if we're going to try it, we may as well make a start, or it won't be worth while; it seems to be getting grey already, so it can't be far off morning. Towing a flying boat through this stuff without knowing where we are or where we are going, is just about the maddest thing I ever heard of, but it's better than doing nothing. Come on, get that rope over her nose. She's only just resting on the sand, so we can easily haul her off.'
The task of towing the Vandal proved to be more awkward than fatiguing. Once afloat, she moved easily through the water, but without a visible mark to guide them, they often floundered into deep water as the machine swung from side to side at the slightest uneven pressure on the tow rope. Gradually the mist turned from grey to white, but still it showed no signs of lifting, so it was impossible for them to judge the progress they were making or how far they had travelled. From time to time they halted, while one or the other tested the depth of the water on either side, but the sandbank seemed to run on for ever.
'I may be mistaken, but I'm beginning to feel that we're going round in circles,' panted Algy at last. 'I suppose it isn't possible for us to work our way right round this sandbank or island, or whatever it is, and barge into Blackbeard's machine from the other side.'
'My word! I should think there is a jolly good chance of it,' muttered Biggles. 'It's easy enough to travel in circles in a fog like this. I'm getting perished, anyway, so let's lay up for a bit. We must have travelled quite a distance, although whether we've got farther out to sea or nearer to shore is more than I can say. I think it's getting lighter now-well I'm—!'
