What happened was, the particular area of ice chose that moment to break off. The man in charge didn't notice it until it was too late for him to do anything about it. He, and the gold, went adrift. You picked the man up—but not the gold. He was sitting on it. The gold is still on that same piece of ice. Now you know why I haven't got the gold -and why I'm still here. Laugh that off and clear out—and stay out."
If looks could kill Ginger would have been slain on the spot where he stood by the murderous scowl Lavinsky gave him. That he believed Biggles' story was not for a moment in doubt. It was so obviously true, not only from the way Biggles had told it but in his own experience. It explained exactly what must have been a puzzle to him all along. For a full minute he stood there staring malevolently from one to another. "Okay,"
he breathed at last. "Okay, brother, I'll get you yet—and the gold."
"All you have to do is find the ice floe," said Biggles smoothly.
"I'll do that," said Lavinsky through his teeth. "Before I go I'll give you a tip. Keep out of my way or you'll get what Larsen got. That goes for the lot of you."
"I'll bear it in mind," promised Biggles.
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Lavinsky turned on his heels and calling to his men strode away.
Biggles and his party watched them go, Biggles smiling faintly, the others with mixed expressions. Not until Lavinsky and his companions had topped the ridge and disappeared from sight did anyone speak. Then the Skipper said: "Why did you tell him that?"
"To get rid of him and gain time enough for us to finish the job. What I told him was obviously the truth, and he reacted just as I thought he would. By the time he's found the floe there'll be nothing on it—I hope. Anyway, had the man stayed here arguing the thing would have ended in shooting. I could see that coming—so could he. I decided it was better this way."
"Phew," breathed Ginger. "You were taking a chance. I nearly broke into a perspiration every time the floe bumped against the shelf. I was expecting every minute he'd see that stick. That's twice he's had the gold under his nose without knowing it. He'll go raving mad when he realises it."
"I shouldn't break my heart over that," asserted Biggles. "Let's get busy. The first thing is to get organised. The Skipper, Bertie and Grimy will haul the stuff here. Algy will help me to load up. Heavy stuff like gold can't just be chucked in anyhow. It will have to be distributed. Ginger, you'll take the glasses and watch Lavinsky. Let me know at once if he moves his ship or if you see any of his men coming this way. Let's get started."
The work began, and for nearly an hour proceeded at full speed without interruption. By the end of that time about half the gold had been moved to the aircraft. It was far from being a simple task, for a complication, a dangerous one, was caused by the constant movement of the ice floe against the solid pack. The floe did not, 127
of course, fit flush against the main ice-shelf; it only made actual contact at one or two places, and even here the two masses sometimes swung apart leaving a gap too wide to be stepped across with safety. Again, there were times when the two masses came together with an alarming crash; on such occasions the splinters flew in all directions, at no small risk of injury to anyone who happened to be near the spot.
During this period, Ginger, who was on guard, made several reports to Biggles. First, he was able to announce that Lavinsky and his party had rejoined the ship. He next reported that the Svelt was on the move; it had left the pack-ice and was cruising about among the floes that littered the open water. As a matter of detail, Biggles had noticed this himself, for the ship was sometimes in view. It brought a smile to his face, for Lavinsky's purpose was fairly obvious. He was looking for the gold. After a while, however, the Svelt returned to its original mooring near the hulk. Ginger next reported that from time to time there was a brilliant flash of light from the crows-nest on the mainmast, although what caused this he was unable to say. Biggles, being busy, paid little attention to it at the time. He was quite content while Lavinsky kept at a distance. Ginger's final report brought an end to the operation. Lavinsky, he said, was coming back, supported by a dozen men.
"I'm afraid that means war," remarked Biggles. He looked across the floe at the remaining gold bars which, as the top ones had been removed, were conspicuous. "We'd better not let him see that," he went on, pointing to the gold. "Grimy, slip out and cover the remainder up with snow; and as you come back you might brush some snow over the track we've made."
While this was being done the Skipper questioned the advisability of waiting for what promised to be an attack
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in force, supporting his argument by pointing out that as they had half the gold they had reason to be satisfied. "We can't take on that bunch and expect to get away with it," he concluded, not without justification.
Biggles would not hear of it. "I'm not leaving one bar, not half a bar, for that rascal," he asserted. "If we lose sight of the stuff we shall never find it again. Apart from that, I'm here on official business and refuse to be intimidated by that gang of sea-crooks." He thought for a moment. "I think we might compromise, though," he resumed. "We needn't risk losing the half we've already got. Algy, you might as well take it straight away to the Falklands. I shall have to ask you to go alone because if it comes to a rough house here, and things begin to look that way, I shall need as many hands as I can muster. If Lavinsky saw he had only two or three to deal with it might encourage him to try to wipe us out."
"As you say, chief," agreed Algy. "I'll unload as fast as I can, refuel, and come straight back to help you with the rest. Otherwise, with the remainder of the gold and everybody else you look like being overloaded."
"Fair enough," agreed Biggles.
Ginger, who had been watching the advancing men, reported that they all seemed to be carrying weapons of some sort, guns or rifles.
Biggles shrugged. "Two can play at that game."
"Absolutely—absolutely," murmured Bertie. "I've promised to join Gimlet King for a spot of deer-stalking in the Highlands when I get back so I could do with a bit of practice. Pity the blighters haven't a decent head of antlers; I'd take one home to show Gimlet the sort of beasts we shoot in the lowest of the bally lowlands—if you see what I mean."
"Lavinsky will get his horns in the next world, no 129
doubt," was Algy's parting remark as he walked over to his machine. In a minute or two he took off and headed out to sea.
Shortly afterwards Lavinsky and his supporters came into sight as they topped the ridge; and from the purposeful manner of their approach it was clear that the storm was about to break. Biggles took steps to meet it by telling the others to get weapons from the arms store, but warned them to keep them out of sight. He then placed them in strategical positions. So far there was nothing in the manner of Lavinsky's advance to suggest an immediate attack, but it was fairly evident that one might develop—particularly, as Biggles told the others, if the man thought he had them at a disadvantage.
Ginger, seating himself behind a case of bully beef with a rifle across his knees, noticed that Algy, instead of carrying straight on his homeward course, had turned, and was now flying up and down as if engaged in a photographic survey of the area below him. Why he was doing this he could not imagine, and before he could arrive at a solution his atention was brought nearer to hand by Biggles calling out to Lavinsky not to come any closer. Lavinsky stopped at a distance of about ten yards with his men lined up on either side of him.
"Now what's biting you?" demanded Biggles curtly.
"You know why I've come here," answered Lavinsky in a thin, rasping voice.
"Have you still got _the gold bug in your brain?" enquired Biggles.
"Quit talking through your hat," came back Lavinsky harshly. "Thought you could fool me, eh. Well, think again, smart guy. I've been watching you from the mast through my glasses," he added, thereby explaining the flashes that Ginger had reported. Apparently they had
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been cau
sed by the sun catching the lens.
"I hope you enjoyed the picture," replied Biggles evenly.
"The metal was here all the time. I saw you loading it up," challenged Lavinsky
"In that case you've nothing more to worry about," answered Biggles. "What you saw being loaded up is now on its way home."
"Not all of it," answered Lavinsky. "I'll have the rest. Are you going to hand it over?"
"I most certainly am not."
"Then- I'll—" Lavinsky glanced up as, with a roar, Algy's machine raced low over the camp. A small object hurtled down. Then the aircraft zoomed, turned, and stood out to sea.
"Ginger, pick that thing up and see what it is," ordered Biggles.
There was silence while Ginger ran to the object and brought it back. Biggles took it. It was a small cigarette tin, the sort made to hold twenty cigarettes. He opened it and took out a slip of paper. He looked at it, smiled, rolled it into a ball and tossed the tin away. "
You were about to say something, Lavinsky, when we were interrupted," he prompted.
"I was going to say that unless you hand over the metal I'm going to take it," said Lavinsky viciously. "And having got it—what then?"
Lavinsky hesitated for a moment as if he suspected that there was more behind Biggles'
question than the mere words implied. "I'll clear out and you can do what the hell you like," he answered, his eyes on Biggles' face.
Biggles shook his head. "You wouldn't get far, I'm afraid."
"What do you mean by that? Do you reckon you
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could stop us?" Lavinsky grinned as if he found the idea amusing.
"If I didn't the ice would," returned Biggles. "Your ship's shut in. Between it and open water there's a half-mile barrier of floes and bergs jammed together."
Lavinsky's expression changed. "Pah! You can't bluff me," he answered; but there was no conviction in his voice.
Biggles raised a shoulder. "Have it your own way." "How do you know?"
"You saw that message dropped a moment ago? The pilot is a friend of mine and he doesn't make mistakes. Please yourself whether you believe it or not. Personally, I couldn't care less."
Ginger realised now the meaning of Algy's reconnaissance. The barrier could not be seen from where they were, but he had spotted it from the air and realised its significance. So did Ginger. It put a new complexion on the entire situation. If the ice barrier did in fact prove impassable it looked as if the Svelt would share the fate of the Starry Crown. In that case they would be in the curious position of having to take Lavinsky and his crew home.
Lavinsky ran his tongue over his lips. He was probably thinking on the same lines, for Biggles was obviously telling the truth.
"It's no use standing there gaping at me," resumed Biggles. "I couldn't help you to get your ship clear even if I wanted to. Instead of yammering about getting the gold out you'
d better see about getting yourselves out before it's too late. You can see which way the wind's blowing. That ice must be coming in this direction."
"It'll pack tighter, too, and get thicker as the reef shortens," put in the Skipper. "Once it closes in on you and nips you, you're finished."
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Lavinsky's eyes wandered to the aircraft and then came back to Biggles. It was almost possible to read his thoughts. "If I stay you stay," he snarled. "I could soon shoot enough holes in that kite of yours, to keep it on the ground."
"That would be really clever," scoffed Biggles. "Anyway, what do you suppose we should be doing while you were shooting?"
Lavinsky tried another tack. "If we start shooting at each other we're all sunk," he muttered, with a change of voice. "There's no. sense in that."
"I was hoping that trivial point would occur to you," returned Biggles.
"You wouldn't go off and leave me and the boys stranded here, I reckon?" There was a hint of anxiety in the question.
Biggles laughed shortly. "Wouldn't I, by thunder! You don't know me. Why should I clutter myself up with a lot of useless scum that would be better in Davy Jones' locker?
That's enough talking, Lavinsky. You're trapped. You've asked for it and you've got it.
But because I've got a streak of weakness in me, if you'll obey my orders I'll give you a chance. You must have plenty of stores in your ship. Go back to it and stay there. There's a British naval sloop at the Falklands. As soon as I'm in the air I'll radio a signal and ask it to come here and take you off. Of course, I shall make a full report of what's happened here so you'd better be able to account for Larsen. That's as far as I'm prepared to go.
Make up your mind what you're going to do, and make it up quickly. That's all."
For a minute Lavinsky did not move. He glared at Biggles with hate smouldering in his eyes. Then, without another word he turned and strode away. His men followed, muttering among themselves. When he reached
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the ridge he stopped, and with his crew gathered round him, held what appeared to be a conference. It did not last long. Lavinsky and half a dozen men walked on towards the Svelt. The remainder sat down on the ridge facing the camp.
"So that's the game," murmured Biggles.
XIII
BIGGLES PLAYS FOR TIME
BIGGLES, sitting on a packing case, regarded the opposing force with thoughtful consideration.
"Well, old boy, what are we going to do about it—if you see what I mean?" inquired Bertie presently.
"I can see what you mean all right," answered Biggles.
"I'm just trying to work it out."
"What are those blighters doing, sitting on the hill?"
"Watching us."
"But what joy will they get out of that?"
"None."
"How long will they go on doing it?"
"As long as we don't make a move."
"You mean, to load up the rest of the gold?"
"That's it."
"But dash it all, we've as good as got it."
"Yes, but not quite. Our problem is how to get the metal into the machine."
"But is it as difficult as all that?"
"It's a lot more difficult than it looks," asserted Biggles. "Of course, there's a way out of the difficulty; there
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always is. The problem is to find it—or, shall we say, the best way. By which I mean the safest way. Actually, there are several things we can do."
Bertie looked disappointed. "But look here, I don't get it. By telling that scallywag that the ice had put a cork in his bottle—if you see what I mean—I should have thought you'd have knocked his middle stump clean out of the ground."
Biggles smiled lugubriously. "Yes, you would think so," answered Biggles. "But I'm afraid he isn't the sort to accept the umpire's decision. He's got .the gold fever too badly to listen to reason. He's going to get the gold, if he can, at any cost. If it would suit his book, in order to get it he'd bump us off without the slightest compunction. He's got a considerable force to back him up—and, in fact, he may have come here just now with that very object in view. But when he learned that he might have to depend on us to get him off the ice he had to think again. But that doesn't mean to say he's -ready to pack up.
Oh no."
"But what can he do?" put in Ginger. "It isn't likely that he's got an air pilot on board, so whatever happens he's bound to rely on one of us to get him home; and whoever did that would report him to the police as soon as his wheels touched the ground."
"He isn't prepared to accept that—yet," returned Biggles. "I think what he's most likely to do next is confirm Algy's report that he's shut in. The fact that he's shut in now doesn't necessarily mean that he'll stay shut in. The ice may move again and give him a passage out, and he isn't likely to overlook that possibility. Even if that doesn't happen, as I see it he still has two chances of getting out. The first is to blast a gap through the ice with dynamite—I imagine he wouldn't come to this part of the world without any."
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"Quite right," interposed the Skipper. "We had dynamite on board when I had the ship."
"His second resort, a more desperate one, might be to do what Last did. Last, you remember, fixed up a small boat, loaded it with stores and dragged it across the ice to open water—or at least he said he did, and I see no reason to disbelieve it. It was possible. And if it was possible for Last to do it single-handed, Lavinsky, with several boats to choose from and twenty men to handle them, should have no great difficulty in doing it. My guess is that he's gone off to have a dekko. If he decides he can get out he'll come back here with all hands to try to wipe us out."
"But he couldn't do that without getting some of his own men knocked out," protested Ginger.
"Huh! That wouldn't be likely to worry him as long as he escaped himself," replied Biggles.
"But half a minute, old boy, what's come over you?" cried Bertie. "It isn't like you to talk as if Lavinsky and his thugs have only to come here and pop off a gun for us all to drop dead. He wouldn't get us as easy as that—no, by gad."
"There are times, Bertie, when I think you must be sheer bone from one ear to the other,"
said Biggles sadly. "I'm not worried overmuch about Lavinsky shooting at us, as individuals. It would be easier to hit the aircraft, and there's nothing we can do to prevent that. We can't put the machine under cover. He has only to put a few holes through the tanks and we shall be the ones to stay here, not him. He knows that, too. My talk just now to Lavinsky, about him being stuck here, was mostly bluff. Lavinsky may not have seen through it at the time, but when he's thought the matter over, he will. He just wants to confirm that he can't get out before he takes steps to make sure that we can't. Of course, if he decides he's
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caught in the ice, good and proper, he'll have to rely on us to get him out, whether he likes it or not."
"Hadn't we better push off while the going's good?" suggested the Skipper tentatively.
36 Biggles Breaks The Silence Page 12
