Biggles and Cruise of the Condor

by W E Johns

  'Crocs!' snapped Dickpa. 'The water's full of them. Had to shoot—one was trying to climb up on the tail. Get that engine going and let's get ashore; they'll knock the machine to pieces at this rate.'

  The others needed no second invitation; indeed, the necessity for instant action was apparent. Hard, heavy bodies were striking the machine with a force that threatened to shatter it. The self-starter whirred, the engine came to life, the machine skimmed across the water, and, as Biggles dropped his wheels, nosed up on the muddy beach. 'Keep going, Algy!' he cried, handing over the joystick and jumping ashore. 'Keep her straight—that's all right, you've plenty of room. Fine. You'll do. Come on, let's get a fire going.'

  Dickpa joined him, a can of petrol in his hand, and a blazing fire soon revealed their white and startled faces.

  'What sort of place do you call this, Dickpa?' almost snarled Biggles, thoroughly shaken. 'I thought you said you knew a good place! I should be sorry to see what you called a bad one. This river is about the limit— horrors, horrors everywhere.'

  Dickpa laughed. 'I believe I warned you that the trip wouldn't be a picnic,' he said.

  'And, by Jingo, you weren't far wrong,' conceded Biggles.

  The machine was hauled up clear of the bank and the engine shut off. Again the uncanny silence settled upon the forest.

  'Even the trees remind me of monsters about to spring,' declared Algy.

  'Let's talk about something else, before the place gets on my nerves,' muttered Biggles harshly as they unloaded some stores from the machine. 'How did those Indians get hold of you?'

  Around the camp fire, and over a satisfying meal,

  the story of the Indian raid was told.

  'I didn't hear a sound until Dickpa yelled,' admitted Algy. 'You'd been gone the best part of an hour,' he went on, turning to Biggles, 'and I had just looked along the beach to see if you were coming back when I heard a crash and a shout. I whipped round just as a mob of Indians jumped on me. I couldn't do anything; just went down with a bang, with the whole lot of 'em piled on top of me. I kicked and struggled, but it was no use; one man can't fight a crowd. They dragged me to my feet in a sort of a daze, and the first thing I saw was Dickpa and Smyth in the same plight as myself. I still don't know how they got hold of Smyth, because he was on board when they attacked.'

  'I was in the cabin unpacking some cases when I heard a shout,' explained Smyth. 'It didn't alarm me much, but I went up on deck to see what it was about, and the first thing I knew was an arrow flitting past my ear.'

  'That's right; I saw it. In fact, that's how I knew it was Indians,' confirmed Biggles.

  'It looked like a rugger scrum on the beach,' resumed Smyth, 'so I joined in. In my surprise I forgot all about the guns in the cabin—not that they would have been much good. The game was a bit too one-sided, though, and a big chap landed me one with a thing like a coconut on the end of a stick.' The ex-flight-sergeant felt the back of his head gingerly. 'I've a bump there as big as a hen's egg,' he concluded.

  'And that's about all there is to tell,' said Dickpa. 'They must have been stalking us for a long time, which shows the folly of not keeping a strict watch all the time when you are in a country like this. Out of the corner of my eye I saw something move, and I looked up just as they broke cover. I let out a yell to try and warn the others, but it was too late. However, all's well that ends well. That was a smart idea of yours, Biggles, using the Very pistol. Those flares put the wind up them more effectively than anything else could have done. They've never seen such things before; in fact, I very much doubt if they've ever heard a gun go off. They're getting over their fright by this time, and are probably thirsting for our blood. If you hadn't taken that stroll along the beach we should all have been nabbed, and then we should have been in a pretty mess.'

  'In the soup, all right,' grinned Biggles.

  'Well, we do at least know they're about, that's one thing,' said Dickpa. 'I didn't think they came as far south as this, but of course you can never really tell with these people. I am thankful they were too scared of the machine to go near it. Anyway, they are not likely to follow us here; they're scared stiff of the dark. And now we had better get some sleep; we've got a hard day in front of us tomorrow.'

  Chapter 9

  A Night of Horror

  'Well, what's the plan?' asked Biggles the following morning as he ripped the top off a tin of bully beef for breakfast.

  'I think we'll push straight along on foot for the cave; we are on the right side of the river for it,' replied Dickpa. 'We've only about a quarter of a mile of forest to get through and then we come out on to the matto. I don't think we can be more than seven or eight miles from the cave at most, and we could do that in three of four hours. That should give us time to break down the wall and get back again before nightfall. The first thing we've got to do is to find out what is behind the wall. If there's nothing, well, we just go home again, that's all. If we strike lucky, we shall have to make our plans according to what we find to bring away. I think the machine will be quite safe here; we couldn't find a better hiding place.'

  'Good enough,' replied Biggles. 'Then the sooner we get away the better.'

  Dawn, the impressive colourful dawn of the Amazon, was just breaking. Within half an hour loads had been made up, tasks allotted, and the entire party moved off in single file. Smyth, armed with a heavy knife for cutting a way through the undergrowth, took the lead, followed by Dickpa with a compass to keep him straight, knowing full well the danger of wandering from a direct course with such a restricted outlook. He also carried a 12-bore shot-gun under his arm. Algy came next. with a fairly heavy load of tools and stores they knew they would require, and Biggles, with another load and the Express rifle, brought up the rear.

  The going was not so bad as they expected. Lianas, it is true, had to be cut to form a path through the trackless forest, and detours often had to be made round great fallen trees which from time to time impeded their progress, but in a trifle under an hour they emerged into the open matto, proving that Dickpa's calculations had not been far wrong. In the near distance a great range of mountains lifted its gaunt peaks high into the sky.

  Progress was now much faster, and when they halted for their third rest, Dickpa announced that they were quite close to the stream up which he had wandered on the day of his discovery of the Inca rock carving, and not more than two miles from the cave itself. The insects caused them great inconvenience, frequent stops having to be made to remove persistent carrapatos from one or the other of them. Their faces, too, were soon covered with tiny black spots of congealed blood where these and other pests had left their marks. Nevertheless, they were in good spirits, for it seemed that nothing could now prevent the successful exploration of the cave.

  They reached the stream, and paused for a moment to refresh themselves and splash their steaming faces, and then pushed on, wading knee deep in the fresh, clear water. Dickpa, old experienced traveller that he was, was obviously as excited as any of them now that they were so near their goal.

  'Round the next corner,' he cried cheerfully, 'and there we are.'

  Panting from the heat and their exertions, they hurried round the next bend, which brought them face to face with a dull red cliff that rose in a sheer wall to a tremendous altitude. Dickpa, who had now taken the lead, suddenly began to slow up, at the same time staring at the rock with a puzzled expression on his face. Biggles noticed that he had turned a trifle pale under his tan.

  'Funny,' he heard him whisper to himself, 'that's funny; I could have sworn this was the place.' And then, 'It is,' he went on, 'but— '

  He turned to the others apologetically. 'Something has gone wrong here,' he said shortly. 'I can't quite see what it is, but I don't think it's anything to worry about. Ah, yes, I see. There's been a slight fall of rock which has buried the mouth of the cave. I'm afraid it's going to give us a bit of work, and it will take a bit of time to clear it. This is the place, there's no doubt of that.'
r />   'Well, we can't help it,' said Biggles quickly, feeling more sorry about his uncle's disappointment than his own. 'We'll soon have that stuff out of the way.'

  Dickpa was examining a pile of loose boulders that lay at the foot of the cliff and spread far into the stream, so far indeed that its course had been slightly altered.

  'Well, let's get at it,' went on Biggles, throwing down his bundle. 'It isn't such a bad spot; we've plenty of water, anyway.'

  The stores were heaped on the bank and all four of them were soon hard at work prising and dragging down the rocks that concealed the entrance of the cave.

  'This isn't the only place where the rock has fallen, by the look of it,' said Dickpa once, during a brief rest, pointing farther along the base of the cliff where several piles of rock, similar to the one on which they were working, lay strewn about. 'I fancy there must have been a bit of an earthquake, since I was here last, to bring all this stuff down.'

  'Well, as long as there isn't another, to bring another lot down on our heads while we're here, I don't mind,' observed Biggles, resuming his task. 'Do they get many earthquakes here?'

  'I don't think anybody's been here long enough to see,' replied Dickpa with a smile, 'but I don't think so; at least, not in recent years. The whole country is volcanic, of course, and once upon a time it must have been pretty bad. It was an earthquake that split these mountains about like that,' he went on, pointing at several wide fissures higher up in the face of the cliff. 'There's not much more to shift, thank goodness; we're lucky it's no worse,' he concluded.

  But appearances were deceptive, and with only their hands, a small crowbar, a hammer, and a chisel, that had been brought to break down the wall inside, to work with, it was well into the afternoon before the Inca rock carving was exposed to full view.

  'You see the luck of it,' said Dickpa during another pause. 'For hundreds of years this place has stood just as it was when the Incas left it. Then I happened to come along—perhaps the first man since they went away—and I spotted that tell-tale mark. Then, before the year is out, down comes all this rock and hides the whole thing up. But for the fact that I had already seen the carving and the cave, and knew they were here, what chance would there have been of anyone ever finding them under all this stuff? It would probably have remained undiscovered until eternity. Well, one thing is certain; we shan't have time to break down the wall today. We dare not risk being benighted so far away from the machine,' he continued, glancing up at the now sinking sun. 'Naturally I didn't expect this or we might have brought the hammocks and enough food to last us a day or two. But that's Brazil all over; the unexpected is always happening—'

  'Hark!' The exclamation came from Biggles, on whose face appeared a look of utter incredulous amazement.

  Faint but clear from the far distance came the unmistakable hum of a powerful aero engine. They all stared in the direction from which the sound came in stupefied astonishment, and for some time nobody spoke.

  'I'm not dreaming, Algy, am I?' asked Biggles anxiously. 'Can you hear it too?'

  'There's no question about it,' replied Algy promptly. 'It's the machine all right.'

  'But who on earth could have found it, and, what is more miraculous, who in these parts could fly it even if they found it?' cried Biggles angrily. 'It isn't sense.'

  'Sense or not,' snapped Algy, 'I can see it—there she is. Look!' He pointed with a trembling finger.

  'They must have followed us up the river,' muttered Dickpa through set teeth, 'and they've brought a pilot with them.'

  'No!' yelled Biggles, who had been staring fixedly at the distant speck in the sky. 'That isn't the Condor, it's a twin engine job. It's too far off to say for certain, but it looks to me like one of those American Curtiss flying-boats.'

  'So that's why they went to New Orleans,' said Dickpa quickly, with a flash of understanding. 'The devils! They saw us fly away and guessed what we were going to do. If they made enquiries they'd find we had bought a machine. They cut across to New Orleans and got another—with a pilot, too, for none of them could fly. This is going to complicate matters.'

  'Complicate!' cried Biggles. 'It's going to do more than that, if I'm any judge. They're not coming this way, thank goodness. They're looking for us, no doubt, but they are going back down the river now, I think. We'd better get back ourselves, and quickly, too.'

  Dickpa took a swift look around the work they had done. 'Yes, I think so,' he replied. 'We've only a few more minutes' work here and we shall have a hole large enough to enable us to get in. It's really better that it should be left as it is until we have coped with this new development.'

  'All right, let's get away then,' returned Biggles. 'I shan't feel happy until I feel the Condor under my feet again. We shall have to hide her from aerial observation in future, although that shouldn't be difficult in a place like this. As soon as we have done that, we can come back here and go on working quietly. They won't be likely to see us; we shall be more likely to see them.'

  'It seems a pity,' said Dickpa, looking reflectively at the top of the cave, which they could now see. 'So near and yet so far. Well, it can't be helped. We might as well leave the tools here; there is no need to carry them backwards and forwards.'

  A cache was quickly made of the equipment they had brought with them and they set out on their journey back to the machine. Biggles climbed up on the bank of the stream and surveyed the rolling prairie abstractedly.

  'What are you looking at?' asked Algy casually.

  'Oh, I was just wondering,' answered Biggles.

  'Wondering what?'

  'As a matter of fact, I was wondering if it was possible to put the machine down here,' replied Biggles, removing a bee from his ear. 'This new development is a bit of a boneshaker. Who would have thought they'd do such a thing? I wonder what sort of pilot they've got.'

  'They'd have no difficulty in getting a pilot with the machine, particularly if the prospect of treasure was mentioned,' declared Dickpa, leading the way through the shallows on the edge of the stream. 'But come on, we shall have to put our best foot forward or we shall be caught in the dark. It's no joke groping your way through the forest after dark, I can assure you. I've had some of it.'

  With their own trail to follow back and unencumbered with the tools, they reached the edge of the forest belt in good time, and, following the path they had cut in the morning through the forest, were able to keep up a steady pace.

  'I shan't be sorry to get back,' admitted Algy, mopping the perspiration from his face. 'Gosh, isn't it hot? But for these confounded flies this would be a really nice place to spend a holiday. Think what a collection of butterflies you could make,' he went on, pointing to a cloud of huge brilliant-coloured butterflies that rose from the path in front of him.

  'Well, here we are—' began Biggles as they emerged into the clearing, but he stopped dead, staring. The others lined up beside him and stood silent; there was no need for words. The Condor had gone.

  Dickpa was the first to recover from the shock of this staggering discovery. He darted forward and peered up and down the river. 'Not a sign of it,' he snapped, and then turned to examine the ground on the edge of the water. He stooped, picked up the butt end of a cigar, and then pitched it carelessly into the water with an expressive shrug of his shoulders. 'That tells us all we need to know,' he said quietly. 'I blame myself—'

  'Blame nobody,' interrupted Biggles crisply. 'No one on earth could have anticipated this. Who would think of camouflaging a machine in such a place? Pah, don't be silly, Dickpa. There's a limit to the foresight one might be expected to have, and this is outside it, by a long way. We might have guessed they would see the Condor when we were over there at the cave, but, quite frankly, the thought never occurred to me. The only possible danger that crossed my mind was the Indians, but it seemed so unlikely that the Condor could be seen from the main stream that I had no fears about leaving her here. Even if we had known what they were up to, it would have made no diff
erence; we couldn't have got back in time to do anything. It's no use talking about blame or what might have been.'

  'That's right,' agreed Dickpa; 'let's face the facts. What they amount to is this: we're stranded high and dry, without food and without a boat, in what is just about the hardest place in the world to get out of. The position is serious, very serious, and it's no use pretending it isn't, but we're not dead yet— '

  'Not by a long chalk,' broke in Biggles savagely. 'There's only one thing to do, so we might as well set about it. We've got to get the machine back.'

  'An admirable plan, but one which seems to present a little difficulty,' observed Dickpa, a trifle sarcastically. 'By working really hard we might make two or three miles a day along the river bank. You can work it out yourself how long it will take us to get five hundred miles. I don't want to appear pessimistic, but, as you say, we must face the facts.'

  'I'm not doing any walking back,' replied Biggles shortly. 'You don't suppose I was thinking of walking back to Manaos, to be chucked into prison when I got there?' he went on grimly. 'We've got to see about getting a boat.'

  'All right. We'd better start making one. I—'

  'Hold hard, let me finish,' interrupted Biggles. 'I've just remembered something, and it might be a trump card. I believe we can get the Condor back, but let's take one thing at a time. The first thing we've got to have is a canoe. Well, there happens to be one lying on the beach on the opposite bank, a mile or two higher up. I'll tell you later how I know it's there. Wait here while I go and fetch it.'

  'You're not thinking of trying to swim the river, are you?'

  'As I can neither fly nor walk on water without sinking, I can't think of any alternative,' replied Biggles, stripping off his jacket.