21 Biggles In The Baltic

by Captain W E Johns

  `Not a hope,' answered Biggles promptly. 'What point would there be in using a code that could be deciphered by the enemy ? The only way official messages can be deciphered in war-time is with the official key, and that's something we're not likely to get hold of. I imagine the British government would be only too pleased to pay a million pounds for the German secret code at this moment. All the same, Roy, you can keep a record of any Morse you pick up—one never knows. Get that acknowledgement off right away.'

  `Very good, sir.'

  Biggles led the way back to the office and spread the map on the table. 'All we can do is memorize the spot,' he said, pointing with his forefinger, 'and work out the best way of getting to it. We shan't need three machines; two should be enough, one to do the job and the other to act as a reserve—and possibly a decoy. I'll think about that. If the weather is O.K. we may as well go to-night and get it over. Algy, go and dig out that box marked W.D. 6. I'll go and have a look at the sky. No,' he added as an afterthought, `there's no need for me to go. You go, Ginger, while I have a look at the map.'

  Leaving Biggles pondering over the map, Ginger made his way along the catwalk. He stopped for a few minutes to speak to the Flight-Sergeant, who was still working on the Dingo, and then went on towards the mouth of the cave.

  Even before he pulled the tarpaulin aside he was aware, from the shrill cries of the gulls, that something unusual was happening outside. Thinking that possibly the cause was a coming change in the weather, for he knew that gulls often get excited at such times, he moved the heavy tarpaulin and looked out. Instinctively his eyes turned upwards to the birds. Normally the majority sat placidly on the ledges on the face of the cliff, but now they all appeared to be on the wing, and he was amazed at the number of them. The air was full of whirling white forms, thousands of them, wheeling and at the same time uttering discordant cries of alarm.

  At first Ginger could see nothing on account of

  the birds, but as he stared he became aware that they seemed to be concentrating at two places, not very far apart. Focusing his eyes on the spot, he caught his breath sharply as he perceived the reason for the uproar. Two men in dark uniforms were creeping along a ledge ; in their hands they carried baskets in which they were putting something which they were picking up from the rocks.

  It did not take Ginger long to realize that they were collecting the eggs of the gulls, which were protesting at the outrage in the manner already described. For a full minute he stared at the two men as his brain strove to grasp the significance of their presence.

  Unprepared for anything of the sort, he was for the moment completely taken aback; but as his composure returned he realized that a boat of some sort must have brought them, and he looked along the foot of the cliffs to locate it. It was not hard to find. It was a small collapsible canoe. Sitting beside it, calmly smoking a pipe, was a third man.

  Again Ginger's eyes moved, for he knew that such a frail craft could not have made its way to the rock across the open sea, and what he saw turned him stiff with shock. Lying just off the entrance to the cove, not two hundred yards away, was a submarine, its grey conning-tower rising like a monument above the deck. There was no need to question its nationality, for on the side of the tower

  was painted, in white, the single letter U. Below it was the number 159.

  How long the submarine had been there, Ginger, of course, did not know, but it had evidently been there for some time, for several members of the crew were disposed about the deck, sunning themselves in the autumn sunshine, while a line of washing hung between the conning-tower and a circular gun turret.

  Ginger was still staring, half stunned by shock, when he heard a noise inside the cave that galvanized him into frantic activity. It was the swish-swish of an engine as its propeller was turned preparatory to starting, and he knew that Smyth was about to test the Dingo. Releasing the tarpaulin which he was still holding, he tore back along the catwalk and nearly knocked the Flight-Sergeant into the water with the violence of his approach. He was just in time, for the Flight-Sergeant's hand was already on the starter.

  `Stop!' he gasped. 'Don't make a sound.' Leaving the mechanic gazing after him, as if he had lost his reason, he dashed along to the records room, where he found Biggles and Algy still poring over the map.

  Their eyes opened wide at the expression on his face. `What's wrong ?' snapped Biggles.

  Ginger pointed down the cave. 'There 's a U-boat in the cove,' he panted.

  There was dead silence for a moment. Then Biggles sprang to his feet. 'The dickens there is,' he said tersely. 'What 's it doing ?'

  Briefly, Ginger described the situation.

  Ì'd better have a look,' muttered Biggles. 'There seems to be nothing we can do except sit quiet in the hope that it will soon clear off.'

  `Suppose these bird-nesters find the cave ?' asked Ginger.

  Ìt'll be the last birds'-nesting they do for a long time,' promised Biggles grimly.

  Ìt's the U 159; Ginger informed him.

  Biggles clenched his fists. 'By thunder,' he swore, 'here's a chance. It was the U 159 that sank the liner Ar thurnia without warning, so it would be just retribution if we handed it a basinful of the same medicine. It must be on its way back to its depot. Come on.'

  He dashed off down the catwalk closely followed by the others, but nearing the tarpaulin he slowed down and peered cautiously round the end of it.

  The U-boat was still in the same position, but the men who had been ashore, evidently having filled their baskets, were making their way back in the canoe. Reaching the submarine, they climbed leisurely on board.

  `They seem to be in no hurry,' observed Biggles anxiously. 'I'm afraid we're going to have them

  hanging about for some time. Ginger, send the Flight-Sergeant to me.'

  Presently the Flight-Sergeant came at the double, and Biggles gave him orders in a low voice. 'Get an armour-piercing bomb on each machine and cast off ready for instant action.' He turned to the others. 'If she finds the cave we shall have to go for her,' he explained. 'There are probably forty or fifty men on board, so if they once got ashore we shouldn't have a chance. They'd radio our position to Germany, anyway, and probably plaster us with that heavy gun on the bows. Our machine-guns wouldn't be much use against that. I'm still hoping they'll go without finding us.'

  An hour passed, and still the submarine gave no indication of departure. Another hour went by; the washing was taken in and the deck cleared, but not until mid-afternoon did the sinister craft begin to turn slowly towards the open sea.

  Biggles breathed a sigh of relief. `She's going,' he said. 'That 's the best thing that could happen for everybody.'

  With her steel deck awash, the submarine ploughed its way slowly towards the south, the airmen watching it with mixed feelings of relief and regret, for such a mark might never again present itself.

  Ginger, who had fetched a pair of binoculars, steadied himself against the rock and brought them

  into focus. `How far is it away do you think ?' he asked Biggles.

  Àbout a couple of miles—why ?'

  Ìt's stopped—at least, I think so. Yes, it has,' declared Ginger. `There seem to be some officers on deck—they're looking at something on the water. By gosh 1 It's coming back.'

  Biggles grabbed the glasses—not that they were really necessary, for what Ginger had said was obviously correct. The submarine had swung round in a wide circle and was returning over its course.

  `What's the idea ?' asked Algy. `What could they have seen to bring them back ?'

  Biggles snapped his fingers. Ì've got it,' he cried. `Look!' He pointed at an iridescent stain that drifted from the mouth of the cave and spread in a long wavy line towards the southern horizon. `They've spotted that oil,' he added sharply. `They're on their way back to see where it's coming from. It'll bring them straight to the cave. Quick! The machines!

  We've got to get that sub. or it's all up with us. Pull that tarpaulin out of the way,
Smyth.'

  There was a rush for the machines. Biggles was away first, as he was bound to be, for the Willie-Willie was nearest the entrance and blocked the way of the others. The roar of its engine drowned all other sounds. Leaving a wake of churning water behind it, the machine shot through the entrance to the cave and raced on over the cove.

  It bumped once or twice as it struck the swell of the open sea, and then, after climbing for a moment or two at a steep angle, made straight for the U-boat.

  Biggles knew that there was no time for tactics. In the first place the members of the submarine crew must have heard his engine start, and no doubt they could now see him.

  That was not all. He knew that he had got to send the U-boat to the bottom before a wireless message could be sent to the shore, or a flotilla of destroyers would be round the islet like a pack of wolves round a wounded deer. It was in an attempt to prevent this happening that Biggles roared straight at the submarine.

  From a distance of a quarter of a mile he could see the gun-crew feverishly loading their weapon, and more in the hope of delaying them than hitting anybody, he brought his nose in line and fired a series of short bursts from his machine-guns. Whether it was due to this or an order from the commander he did not know, but the men suddenly abandoned their weapon and bundled into the conning-tower. The top closed and the U-boat began to submerge.

  But by this time Biggles was over it. His bomb hurtled down. He zoomed away swiftly, banking steeply on the turn so that he could see what happened. What he saw brought a grim smile to

  his lips. As quick as he had been, the others were not far behind him. The Didgeree-du and the Dingo, in line, swept over the patch of swirling water. Two great columns of smoke and spray shot upwards. The stern of the U-boat rose high out of the water, the propellers racing ; higher and higher it rose until it was almost vertical ; then it plunged downwards and disappeared from sight.

  For a little while Biggles continued to circle, the other machines following him, in case there should be any survivors ; but there were none, and in his heart he was relieved, for they were in no condition to take care of prisoners. A final glance at the wide patch of oil that marked the last resting-place of the U-boat and he turned back towards the islet.

  Without waiting for the others to land, he raced straight on into the cave, and, jumping out, ran on to the radio room.

  `Did that submarine manage to get out a signal ?' he asked Roy sharply.

  `Yes, sir. It was very short though—not more than three or four words, I should say, although as they were in code I don't know what they mean. I've got a record of the letters though.'

  Ì see,' said Biggles slowly, and returned to the catwalk where the others were just coming ashore.

  `What you might call short and sweet,' remarked Algy.

  `Short, but not very sweet,' answered Biggles.

  Ah, well, that's war. If it hadn't been them it would have been us. That's what they've been handing out to unarmed ships so they could hardly complain. The Admiralty will be glad to know that one raider is out of the way. It seems to be a case where we might risk transmitting a signal. But come on, we'd better get ready for this show tonight.'

  CHAPTER VI

  A DANGEROUS MISSION

  THE plan for the blowing up of the Albeck tunnel, as finally decided by Biggles and accepted without demur by the others, was completed, and as the weather remained favourable it was agreed to put it into operation that night. Two machines would go over, the first to be the Willie-Willie converted into a two-seater, with Biggles and Ginger in it. This was actually the operative aircraft. It would carry the explosive charge—a time bomb—with which they hoped to destroy the tunnel, and fly at its maximum ceiling, which Biggles thought could not be less than 25,000 feet. This would, of course, involve the use of oxygen apparatus, which had not been overlooked by the Admiralty in fitting out the base. Algy, in the Didgeree-du, also converted into a two-seater, was to take of twenty minutes after the others and fly at io,000 feet with a dual role to play. Primarily, his purpose was to act as a decoy to distract attention from the operative machine by drowning the noise of its engine with its own. Secondly, it could act as a reserve plane to pick up the occupants of the first machine if by any chance it should be damaged in landing. If its services were required Biggles would signal to it by means of a red light; otherwise, it was to return home independently.

  Biggles saw clearly that the greatest difficulty to be overcome was to reach the landing-field undetected, for it was too far inland to be reached in a glide after the manner adopted in the attack on the ammunition dump. He knew that if once the machine was picked up by the ever-questing searchlights it would not only be futile to land, but suicidal ; so, after giving the matter considerable thought, he had decided on the scheme just outlined as the most likely way of escaping observation. Algy was to fly straight towards the landing-field, drawing both the searchlights and the anti-aircraft gunfire. In this way it was hoped that the other machine, flying 15,000 feet above it, would, by cutting its engine some distance away, be able to reach the field more or less silently.

  Once the Willie-Willie was on the ground matters would have to take their course.

  Biggles would have to open his engine in order to get off again, but this he did not mind, trusting to his ability to get back in the face of anything the enemy might do to prevent it.

  To start with, the watches of both machines would be synchronized; both aircraft were to rendezvous over the islet at a prearranged time, at their respective altitudes, and fly on the same compass course at the same speed. This should (as Biggles explained) keep them together, for they would not be able to see each other. He, having to climb to a greater height, would take off first. The scheme was not entirely satisfactory, but he was convinced that it was the best they could do in the circumstances.

  `We'll start as soon as it's dark,' he concluded. Ìt may take us some time to get into the tunnel, and it wouldn't do to be caught out in daylight.'

  Accordingly, the machines were made ready, and at nine p.m. the Willie-Willie, with Biggles in the pilot's seat and Ginger crouching over a gun behind him, taxied out to the cove. Another minute and they were in the air, spiralling steadily upwards.

  For twenty minutes the steel airscrew of the Willie-Willie clawed its way into the starlit heavens, by which time the altimeter needle registered 22,000 feet, and the airmen adjusted their oxygen apparatus ; then, still climbing slightly, Biggles struck off to the south-west at a steady speed of 28o miles an hour. Half an hour later the German mainland appeared ahead, black, sinister, as mysterious as another world. A finger of gleaming silver stabbed the darkness, and soon the air was cut into sections by the ever-alert searchlights.

  Biggles's voice reached Ginger over the telephone. 'Look down,' he said. 'Poor old Algy seems to be copping it.'

  Ginger looked over the side. Far below, so far that they appeared to be on the ground, a hundred flickering points of light danced in the darkness, and he knew it was the archie barrage throwing a curtain of fire round Algy's machine. It was hard to believe that the bursting shells were 10,000 feet above the earth. For a time he watched the barrage moving along below them, and from it was able to judge roughly the position of the Didgeree-du. Algy was getting the worst of it now, he reflected, but their turn would come later.

  Once a probing beam swept perilously close to the Willie-Willie, but Biggles side-slipped away, sacrificing a little height in the slip, but keeping on his course.

  The minutes passed ; one by one the searchlights went out and the barrage thinned, as the coastal batteries were left behind. Below, the earth was wrapped in profound darkness, but the roads showed dimly, like pale threads snaking across the vast panorama. Woods and forests showed as inky stains on the vague background of the earth. Occasional flashes still followed the course of Algy's machine, and the cunning of Biggles's plan became apparent, for so far not a single shell had come near the Willie-Willie, and it seemed
fairly certain that its presence had not been suspected by the watchers on the ground. Shortly afterwards the archie trail swung away to the left, and Ginger knew that Algy

  had begun to circle away in accordance with their plan. That Biggles had noticed it, too, was made apparent when the Willie-Willie's engine died, leaving the machine to glide silently along its lonely course.

  Standing up to look immediately below them, Ginger saw what he expected to find—the railway; a long straight line that began in the indistinct distance behind them and vanished into the black horizon ahead. He considered it seriously, knowing that Biggles'

  s skill in pilotage would now be severely tested, for to bring a machine down from such a height on a given landing-ground, at night, without touching the throttle, required more skill than the average pilot possessed.

  Once a curious, nebulous ball of fire rolled along the line, and he knew that it must be a train ; the lights in the carriages were out, but the fireman could not prevent the glow from reflecting on the smoke as he stoked his furnace.

  Ginger thought the glide would never end. It seemed interminable, the more so because, owing to their great height, they did not appear to be moving ; nor did they seem to get any lower, although he knew that this was not the case, for the altimeter told a true story and the needle was swinging back all the time.

  Staring fixedly ahead, he saw the thin line of the railway end abruptly, as if it were cut off short in

  open country, and he knew they had at last reached the tunnel. A moment later the machine began a wide, flat spiral, and the details on the ground soon showed up more clearly. The moon had risen, and in its cold blue light he could even see the farm-building at the northern end of the tunnel which he knew must be the guard-house.

  Quickly now the greys became less dim, and the outlines of woods and hedges stood out more sharply. A wide river, which he knew must be the Elbe, meandered across a deserted landscape to the north-west, for villages were few and far between.

  A current of air on his left cheek interrupted his survey as the machine went into a steep side-slip, and he realized that Biggles must have arrived over the objective with plenty of height to spare; he noted it with satisfaction, for had they undershot they could only have reached the landing-ground by opening the engine. Looking ahead he could see it, a large field roughly triangular in shape, with a group of trees at the apex. He glanced at Biggles, and saw that he was leaning forward as he operated the gear that lowered the undercarriage wheels.