Biggles' Second Case

by W E Johns

  After that they fell silent again. It grew a little lighter, but the mist still clung like a clammy veil to the knoll on which the party squatted. Biggles looked at his watch and got up.

  ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘I’m not waiting any longer. Let’s move along and see what goes on. We’ll form up in line, keeping in sight of each other, and move slowly clown the hill to approach the beach from the rear. If there’s trouble we can retreat back here. I don’t think von Schonbeck will risk trying to dislodge us because he would be bound to have casualties, and if he loses any more of his crew he won’t have enough to man his ship. All right, let’s move along. No talking. We shall be able to move quietly over this moss. With luck we ought to be able to get pretty close to the submarine without being seen. If we can pick off a few of them so well and good, but I don’t want any firing until I give the word. Is that clear, Axel?’

  Axel answered that he understood perfectly, and repeated the orders in his own language to those of his countrymen who knew no English. The party, keeping in line and with weapons at the ready, then moved off, descending a long incline which ended at the same level as the beach and perhaps a quarter of a mile from it, with a fold of rising ground between the two areas. Ginger moved next in line to Biggles. The uncanny silence persisted. With deep moss underfoot the advancing party might have been a line of slate-coloured ghosts.

  The first objective, the dip at the foot of the incline, was reached without incident. Still no sound came from the submarine, and to Ginger the eerie silence took on the unreal character of a dream. In the dip Biggles halted the line by a signal, and by a sweep of his arm swung it round directly towards the beach. The march was resumed. Still no sound came from the submarine.

  The near end of the beach came into view and the advance became more cautious. At the point where the moss gave way to shingle Biggles halted and peered ahead, eyes trying to probe the mist. He could just vaguely make out the shape of the U-boat, but it was still indistinct and there was no movement of any sort. He went on again, his body tense, pistol gripped in his right hand, halting for a moment after each step. Still nothing happened. Gradually things began to take shape — the hull of the submarine with the conning tower rising from it, a line of debris along the high-water mark and the squat stone houses beyond.

  Biggles beckoned Ginger nearer. ‘Pass word along the line to beware of booby traps,’ he said softly. ‘There may be an ambush. If firing starts remember that we retire on the knoll.’

  Ginger nodded and went off on his errand, leaving Biggles staring at the submarine.

  By single paces Biggles advanced again, eyes switching from one object to another, nerves braced from the strain of expecting every step to end the uncanny silence.

  Still nothing happened. A black-headed gull swung on rigid pinions over the steel hull and with a mournful cry soared into the mist whence it had appeared. Biggles went on until he stood near the water’s edge less than twenty paces from the U-boat. Dirty, oil and weather-stained, it had the appearance of an abandoned hulk. The conning tower was open. He stood there motionless, surveying the scene, for perhaps five minutes. Then he signalled to the party to rally on him. One by one they came, in silence.

  Said Biggles to Ginger, who was the first to arrive: ‘If this is a trap it ought to have been sprung by now. I don’t get it. There’s something unnatural about this set-up. What the devil is von Schonbeck doing? He can’t have just shut himself up in his ship.’

  ‘Maybe they’re in one of the huts,’ suggested Ginger.

  ‘Even so, you’d think they’d put out a guard, and a guard would have seen us by now — unless he’s asleep; and I can’t imagine anyone under von Schonbeck’s command going to sleep on duty. However, we’ll soon settle it. Stand fast while I have a look round.’

  Standing on the beach Ginger watched Biggles advance warily to the nearest hut, look inside, and pass on to the next. It seemed to be asking for trouble. Every second he expected to hear a shot and see Biggles fall, and cold as he was, perspiration broke out on his forehead from the strain of waiting. He drew a deep breath when Biggles came back and joined the party.

  ‘They’ve pulled out,’ he said shortly. ‘It’s the only possible answer. That’s something I did not expect... unless...?’ Biggles walked on a little way and then, stopping suddenly, pointed to a line of torn and buckled plates in the submarine’s side. ‘That must be the answer,’ he said. ‘That must have happened when she collided with the rock. Von Schonbeck daren’t take his ship to sea in that state, and I doubt, even if he had unlimited time at his disposal, whether he could make good the damage. Yes, that’s it. Bottled in by the whaler and with his ship out of action he must have decided that nothing was to be gained by staying here. He’s taken to the country. Watch your step. Don’t forget what happened the last time we were on this beach.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’ queried Ginger.

  ‘We might as well have a look inside the ship as we’re so close,’ answered Biggles.

  ‘But von Schonbeck wouldn’t leave the gold behind,’ asserted Ginger.

  ‘No. If they’ve gone I imagine they’ll have taken it with them, or buried it somewhere,’ returned Biggles. ‘But we’ll have a look round inside all the same.’

  Motioning the others to wait, taking Ginger with him, Biggles waded out to the U-boat, climbed on board the deck and made his way to the conning tower. At a distance of half a dozen paces he halted and called sharply. ‘Von Schonbeck!’

  There was no answer.

  Biggles called again. ‘I’m waiting for you,’ he added.

  Still no answer.

  Biggles shrugged. ‘I don’t think he’s here,’ he said in a low voice. ‘We’ll soon make sure.’

  He went on to the conning tower, mounted it and looked down. For perhaps half a minute he waited. Then he climbed in and disappeared from sight.

  Ginger hurried after him, and looking down saw Biggles standing pistol in hand at the foot of the steps near the periscope control. He went down and, joining his chief, looked about him with curiosity, conscious of a queer sensation now that he was actually standing in the ship they had come so far to find. All around were the intricate instruments and equipment of the U-boat. He noticed a conspicuous clock. It had stopped at one minute to twelve. An unnatural hush possessed the ship, unnatural because with so much mechanism about he felt that some of it should be working. But nothing moved. The silence was the dead utter silence of the tomb.

  It was perhaps on this account that a sound, when it came, was all the more noticeable.

  Without speaking Biggles moved forward a few paces, quietly, to get a clearer view of the gangway leading aft. It was as he did this that the sound came. The clock had begun to tick. Biggles’ eyes flashed to it, so did Ginger’s. Biggles looked at the steel floor on which they stood. Ginger’s eyes followed, wonderingly, surprised and not a little alarmed at the sudden stiffening in Biggles’ attitude. He saw, lying across the floor, a thin strand of copper wire, a strand so fine that had it not been for the light catching its untarnished surface it would not have been noticeable. It was broken, and lay curled back upon itself like a spring.

  Biggles spoke. He said one word. He uttered it in a voice so clipped that Ginger obeyed it on the instant. The word was; ‘Bolt!’

  Even as Ginger shot up the conning-tower steps he had a shrewd idea of what was happening, or what was about to happen. Reaching the deck he did not stop, but ran along to the nearest point of the beach, jumped ashore, and went on running. He could hear Biggles close behind him. ‘Bolt!’ he shouted to Axel, who, with his rifle half raised, was looking at him in astonishment.

  ‘Run for your lives!’ shouted Biggles, as he took a flying leap on to the shingle.

  The entire party raced along the beach.

  It had covered about a hundred yards when from behind there came such an explosion as Ginger had never heard. An instant later what felt like a solid wall of air struck him in the back
and threw him forward on his face. Half dazed by the shock he started to pick himself up, aware that there were others in positions similar to himself. A movement behind made him turn still further. He was just in time to see the submarine settling back into the water. The centre part was still raised high, but it had broken across the middle. Above it towered a mighty column of smoke. From the beach near the entrance of the cove sped a terrifying tidal wave. It struck the cliffs that guarded the entrance flinging spray nearly to the top, and then rebounded.

  ‘Look out!’ shouted Biggles, and scrambling to his feet made for the rising ground behind the camp.

  The wave, with the relentless force of an express train, came after them. It all but had them. The curling crest crashed forward and down some thirty yards behind them so that the spreading rush of water licked their heels. Then it was all over. The wave receded.

  The water in the cove boiled for a little while, then fell quiet. Hard against the beach lay the U-boat, its hull distorted, its back broken.

  Biggles sat and looked at it for a minute without speaking. Then he laughed quietly. ‘What a beauty,’ he murmured.

  ‘What’s a beauty?’ demanded Ginger.

  ‘That booby trap,’ answered Biggles. ‘I never saw a better one.’

  ‘We nearly didn’t see that one,’ growled Ginger.

  ‘You’re right. It was pretty close,’ admitted Biggles. ‘Had we been talking we shouldn’t have heard the clock start ticking, and had the clock not started ticking I shouldn’t have spotted that wire.’ He smiled. ‘If we hadn’t spotted the wire we should have made the fastest take-off ever. I should think the bomb, or whatever it was, exploded in the U-boat’s remaining store of torpedoes and shells. Von Schonbeck must have heard the bang. From where he is he can probably see the smoke. Only an intruder in the submarine could have set off the bomb, so by this time he is no doubt having a chuckle at our expense and patting himself on the back for his ingenuity. He’s justified, mind you. He might have got the lot of us at one go. He’s going to have a horrid disappointment though when we turn up again.’

  ‘Algy and Bertie must have heard that bang, too,’ remarked Ginger. ‘They’ll be worried.’

  Biggles glanced at the sky. ‘The murk’s lifting,’ he observed. ‘A clear sky will bring Algy along hotfoot to see what goes on. Hark!’ Faintly on the still air came the drone of an aircraft.

  Ginger cocked an ear and listened. ‘Okay — that’s the Tarpon,’ he announced. ‘Algy has only to make a dud landing now and we are in the soup.’

  ‘Let’s go back to the cliff and show ourselves,’ suggested Biggles.

  CHAPTER XVI

  Biggles Offers Terms

  The party hastened back to the top of the hill. By the time they had reached it the mist had been lifted by a watery sun and the aircraft was circling preparatory to coming in. To Ginger’s unspeakable relief it made a safe landing, whereupon the party moved forward to meet Algy and Bertie who now descended.

  Algy’s first words were: ‘What the deuce was that bang?’

  Biggles told him, jerking a thumb in the direction of the shattered U-boat. ‘Did you make contact with Raymond? That’s the important thing at the moment,’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, we got through without any trouble,’ returned Algy. ‘It took some time but I gave him the complete gen.’

  ‘What did he say to that?’ inquired Biggles.

  ‘He said okay, stand by.’

  Biggles frowned. ‘Stand by for what?’

  Algy shrugged. ‘He didn’t say.’

  ‘Well, I call that pretty good. How long does he expect us to stand here?’

  ‘I imagine he’d have to do some thinking before he made a plan of operation.’

  Biggles nodded. ‘Maybe he thought it unwise to announce his plans over the air in case the wrong people picked up the signal. All the same, I wish I knew what he intended doing. Von Schonbeck is on the move; he’s got the bullion with him so it won’t do to leave him too long to his own devices.’

  ‘But he can’t get off the island, old boy — if you see what I mean?’ put in Bertie.

  ‘I’m not so sure of that,’ answered Biggles, looking round. ‘That fellow will be a menace until he’s dead and buried.’

  ‘But even if he got away he couldn’t take the gold with him,’ said Algy.

  With his hands thrust deep in his pockets and his head bent, Biggles paced up and down. ‘Let’s try to get the thing in line,’ he said curtly. ‘Von Schonbeck knew that he was in a trap — there was no escape out of the cove, anyway. The only course for him, when you come to think about it, was to retire to the interior of the island taking the gold with him. What next? Well, five million in gold is something. A man with five million pounds’ worth of metal is in a position to bargain.’

  ‘For what, old lad? I don’t get it,’ murmured Bertie, polishing his eyeglass.

  ‘His life, for one thing. Suppose he buries that gold. Who is going to find it on an island this size? That you can’t dig up an entire island is proved by the fact that there is still a twelve-million-pound treasure on Cocos Island, although scores of people have tried to find it — and Cocos is nothing like the size of Kerguelen. Very well. Let us say we go after von Schonbeck and catch him. Or suppose the Government landed troops here and rounded him up. He just smiles blandly and says okay. Hang me if you like, but if you do bang goes your gold. He may say, let me go and I’ll tell you where the gold is. So what? The gold doesn’t mean much to us. For one thing it isn’t ours, anyway. But the people who actually own the gold might be willing to bargain. What is one man’s life to a fortune? But it may not come to that. The point is, von Schonbeck, by pulling out, is still at large with the gold. He’s gaining time if nothing else. If he could get away, get clear of the island, he might return later for the gold.’

  ‘How could he get away?’ asked Algy. ‘If we leave him here he’s likely to be marooned for the rest of his life.’

  ‘Don’t you believe it,’ said Biggles scornfully. ‘To start with I’ve got an idea that he’s got a boat with him. They were using a collapsible boat to repair the damage round the stern of the U-boat at Corbie Island. That boat was housed just aft of the conning tower — but it wasn’t on the sub when we boarded her just now. Von Schonbeck may have that boat with him. The scoundrel is a seaman — we must grant him that. With decent weather he might push off and make a landfall at some other island. Long trips have more than once been made in an open boat. Of course, he wouldn’t be so crazy as to attempt to take the gold; but if he got away he’d find it easy enough to come back later on, in a ship of some size, and collect the bullion. Amongst the German settlements in South America he’d find plenty of ships’ captains willing to take a chance on that.’

  ‘This is all supposing that he has a small boat,’ put in Axel, who had followed Biggles’ argument with profound interest.

  ‘All right, let’s suppose he hasn’t a boat,’ replied Biggles. ‘That doesn’t mean we can just stand bye waiting for Raymond to do something. If once von Schonbeck gets into the mountains of the interior it would need an army to get him out. To bring here the number of men that would be required for the search, together with stores and equipment, would cost nearly as much in cash as the gold is worth. What would be the alternative? To leave him here, marooned? To leave that bunch of Nazis on the loose would be like leaving a pack of wolves. Don’t forget that once in a while ships call here — whalers, sealers, and so on. Von Schonbeck and his bunch would grab the first one to come in, scupper the crew and get away with it. One factor which we must never forget is this; von Schonbeck knows that his neck is practically in a noose if he is caught, and desperate men take chances.’

  ‘So what’s the answer?’ asked Ginger helplessly.

  ‘There can be only one,’ returned Biggles. ‘We’ve got to go after von Schonbeck. We’ve got to locate him, watch him, and if possible keep him on the move, so that he gets no chance to bury the gold. I needn�
��t point out the snag in that. We’ve got to find him and catch up with him before darkness falls. Give von Schonbeck one night in these hills and if I know the man he’ll appear tomorrow without the gold. He can’t have got a great way yet. Hearing the explosion he may take his time, supposing that we’ve been blown sky-high as he intended, and as we jolly nearly were.’

  ‘And having spotted him what do we do about it?’ asked Ginger, a trifle sarcastically. ‘Our rifles and pistols will make a poor showing against the machine-guns which we know they’ve got — at least, I imagine they won’t have left them behind.’

  ‘I’ll grant you that,’ agreed Biggles. ‘All I can say is, we’ll deal with that situation when the time comes. Man for man we must be pretty evenly matched.’

  ‘The first thing is to find the blighters — find ‘em, that’s the thing,’ declared Bertie.

  ‘Bertie,’ said Biggles evenly, ‘you’ve said it. Let’s get mobile.’

  ‘We can’t all get in the plane,’ Axel pointed out.

  ‘There’s no need — yet. I’ll take my three friends with me. You’ll stay here with your party, Axel, and keep guard over the remains of the submarine. Should by any remote chance reinforcements arrive from my chief, Air Commodore Raymond, you can tell them where we are and what we are doing.’

  Leaving the Norwegians on the cliff the others climbed into the aircraft. Biggles took off and headed for the interior of the island.

  ‘See what I mean about looking for a few men in that mess,’ he remarked to Ginger, indicating the gaunt rugged mountains which piled up behind rolling foothills that came down nearly to the sea. ‘Finding a needle in a haystack would be easy compared with digging out a handful of men from that mass of rock. But von Schonbeck can’t have reached the mountains yet.’

  ‘This is not going to be a very nice place for a forced landing,’ murmured Ginger, regarding the terrain below and in front of them with misgivings, and remembering the patched-up condition of their aircraft.