The Black Peril Part 9

The others did not answer. Ginger was chewing a gra.s.s-stalk reflectively.

The sun rose higher, and they were grateful for its warmth, but still there was no sign of the amphibian. The morning wore on, but still it did not come, and Biggles suddenly faced the others squarely.

"Something's gone wrong," he said shortly. "If he was coming he would be here by now.

It's no use pretending any longer; something has happened to him. Are you quite sure this was the place he meant, Smyth?"

"I'm certain of it, sir."

"This other lake-the one he was going to-isn't more than twenty miles away, is it?"

"Barely that, I should think."

"Well, we had better wait here a bit longer. Smyth, you watch the left bank, and you keep an eye on the right, Ginger. I'll guard the rear. If either of you see anyone, let me know."

CHAPTER XI.

WHAT HAPPENED TO ALGY.

ALGY'S troubles had begun almost immediately after his rush into the air to prevent the amphibian from falling into the hands of those he now cla.s.sed as "the enemy." On the face of it his plan seemed feasible enough, and so in ordinary circ.u.mstances it would have been; but the circ.u.mstances were far from ordinary. He knew, of course, that machines were out, watching for the British amphibian; that was obvious from the actions of those who had spotted it, but not until he was in the air did he realize how widespread was the hue and cry. He flew due west at first, flying back over the ground that the amphibian had covered on its way out, but the appearance of a machine on the horizon directly in front of him made him turn quickly. The wind, he noticed, had swung round to the south, and was bringing up a good deal of low cloud, a fact which did not please him, as he was by no means certain of the position of the small lake, and reduced visibility would not make the task of finding it any easier.

He kept a watchful eye on the solitary machine, and was presently relieved to see it disappear behind a ma.s.s of cloud, flying, as far as he could make out, on a course diagonally away from his own. He turned again to his original route, but had no sooner done so than a two-seater of military type emerged from a cloud not a mile away.

" Confound it," he muttered irritably, as he dived into the nearest cloud, wondering if he had been seen. He came out on the other side of it and once more began to veer round towards the lake. The country over which he was flying, being entirely new to him, furnished very little useful information, for there was an unusual dearth of roads and railways, and even buildings, a fact which tended to confirm Biggles' idea that they were actually in Russia.

_ He saw yet another machine, but it was a long way away, and with his old-time instinct he placed himself between it and the now sinking sun, knowing that in that position it was highly improbable that he would be seen by the other pilot. "My word," he mused, "

we've stirred up a hornet's nest and no mistake. This must be a pretty big thing if they have to turn out half the machines in Russia to look for us. We are going to have a bad time if we are caught, I can see that." The increasing urgency for getting the machine hidden, and then getting out of the country as quickly as possible, was apparent, and still flying with as much caution as he did during the war, he nearly collided head-on with a machine that burst out of the cloud in which he himself proposed to take cover whilst approaching his objective.

Which of the two pilots was the more surprised it is impossible to say. Both banked vertically to the right, as international regulations demanded in such circ.u.mstances, and then levelled out. Algy did not stop to examine the details of the machine that had nearly -rammed him; he shoved the stick forward and raced towards the wide belt of low cloud that stretched across the sky to the west. Visibility or no visibility, the lake became a matter of secondary consideration in the face of the new peril.

The other machine was much faster than the amphibian, however, so the pilot overtook him rapidly and soon roared up alongside. Algy saw it was a two-seater, but it bore no registration marks of any sort; what interested him far more was the man behind a wicked-looking machine-gun. The gunner, seeing that Algy was watching him, held up his hand and beckoned, making it clear that he was to follow; as an alternative he pointed to his gun in a manner that left no doubt as to his meaning.

Now, Algy had not the slightest desire to follow the other machine, but still less did he relish the idea of being shot to pieces by a modern quick-firing gun. Of the two evils he chose the lesser, and obediently altered his course to follow his captor, but he kept a watchful eye on the cloud-bank, now over his left shoulder, determined to make a dash for it the moment an opportunity presented itself. If the worst came to the worst he would try and show the menacing figure in the other plane a trick or two that he had acquired in the war-skies of Europe. Meanwhile his mind was working with its old-time rapidity, although the situation was a new one. He grinned at the other pilot, now not more than twenty yards away, but there was no answering smile.

"You miserable hound," he thought, "I should hate to serve in a squadron with a crowd of fellows like you."

Straight ahead the cloud-bank bulged out towards them, and he determined to make his attempt to escape as they pa.s.sed it, for such an opportunity might not occur again; but the pilot of the other machine seemed to suspect his intention, for he began edging him farther away from the opaque mist.

"Oh, dash this for a fool's game," snarled Algy, suddenly losing his patience, and kicking out his left foot he jammed the stick forward and dragged it round to the left at the same time. The amphibian shot straight underneath its escort. Now, Algy knew better than to run straight for the cloud, for he was aware that the gunner would have his weapon turned on him before he could get out of range, so, using the speed he had acc.u.mulated in his dive, he pulled the stick back into his stomach and twisted up into the " eye " of the sun.

For a moment the other pilot, unable to look in his direction without partially blinding himself, was at fault, as Algy hoped he would be, so seizing his chance, he pushed the stick forward and plunged down towards the cloud. The other saw him and gave chase immediately, but Algy's literally flying start had given him a lead of nearly a mile. Even so, it was touch-and-go, for once the other machine got into its stride it began to overtake him at an alarming rate, and bullets were whistling through the amphibian's planes as she roared down into the heart of the clammy moisture.

"Up, or down?" thought Algy, knowing that he could not hope to keep the machine on even keel for very long in such conditions without "blind" flying instruments-modern gadgets which Biggles disdained to use. "Down," he decided, and pressed gently on the stick. He found the ground about five hundred feet under the cloud, and after a swift glance around, during which he put the machine on even keel, he zoomed up into the cloud again, pointing the nose of the aircraft in the direction of the lake.

If necessary he was prepared to land anywhere, but he had a horror of piling the amphibian up on a hidden obstruction, and he preferred the lake if he could find it. He held on his way for a while, dropping down from time to time to s.n.a.t.c.h quick glimpses of the terrain below, and presently saw a small wood which his practised eye recognized for one over which they had pa.s.sed on their outward flight. It gave him his direction, and still skimming along in the gloom at the base of the cloud, he came suddenly upon that which he so anxiously sought, the small wood-locked lake which they had pa.s.sed that morning.

He s.n.a.t.c.hed a swift look around, but could still see no sign of the other machine, so without further delay he put the amphibian down on the black water, sideslipping over the trees and keeping as close to the edge of the lake as the strong southerly wind would permit. Without waiting for the amphibian to finish its run, he opened the throttle again and charged at the nearest point of land that offered a fair amount of cover. The silver wings of the machine would, he knew, show up against the black water like a white moth on a dark curtain, and give him away immediately should one of the searching machines happen to fly over.

He reached the bank at a swampy-looking place that ran well under the dismal fir-trees, with thick patches of reeds on either side; and dropping his wheels he forced the machine up it as far as she would go. Then he switched off, and leaping down into several inches of greasy mud, began tearing up armfuls of reeds and throwing them over his planes and elevators. Not until the machine was literally covered-to say nothing of being well besprinkled with mud-did he desist, and throw himself wearily on the fir needles under the trees to rest.

It was nearly dark, and he became faintly aware that he was both tired and hungry. There was no point in keeping watch, he decided; if anyone came along he could do nothing about it now. "If I try taking off from this black hole of Calcutta in the dark, I shall pile her up for certain," he mused. "And it's no use thinking about food; there isn't any, and that's that." So he tightened his belt and slithered back through the mud into the cabin, where presently, worn out after the day's excitement, he dropped off to sleep.

When he awoke he had no idea of the time, but he felt that it must be nearly morning, so in order that he should not drop off to sleep again, he sat up and waited for the dawn. In spite of his feeling that it was not far away, he found the waiting tedious, and he was heartily glad when at last the sky turned from black to grey. "Thank goodness!" he muttered. "Now I'll see about getting off." He crept through the hatchway into the c.o.c.kpit and looked out; the sight that met his gaze stunned him almost as effectively as a blow would have done. During the night, the amphibian had sunk down into the soft mud until her keel was resting on the ooze; her wheels had completely disappeared.

For a moment or two his mind refused to act, so overcome was he at the calamity, for he knew that single-handed he could not hope to get her clear of the clinging slime. When the full horror of what he had done at last sank into his paralysed mind he nearly groaned aloud, and he sat back to try and collect his faculties, and think, if possible, of some manner in which the harm might be undone.

The fact that Biggles and the others were waiting for him at that very moment threw him into a frenzy, but it was of no avail, and by the time the sun was up he knew that he was helpless; the amphibian was anch.o.r.ed as securely as a lightship. He did not start the engine, knowing that it would be a sheer waste of time, besides running the risk of attracting the attention of foresters, or anyone who lived in the vicinity, who would no doubt report the presence of the aeroplane to the authorities.

The only thing he could hope for now, he decided, was that the others would guess that something tragic had happened to prevent his return, and would set off for the spot to which Smyth had no doubt told them he was going, on foot. He did the only thing he could do where the amphibian was concerned, and that was to collect fallen branches and thrust them down under the wheels to prevent the machine sinking any lower. He went as far as trying to dig the mud away from the wheels with his hands, and he did get one almost clear, but the ooze had seeped back again and filled up the hole before he could release the other.

Finally, plastered from head to foot with mud, he flung himself on the bank in utter dejection. Food was becoming a pressing question, and the lack of it aggravated his low spirits. He thought there might be fish in the lake, but he had no means of catching them.

Slowly the most miserable day that he could ever remember came to an end, and faint from the want of food he crept back into the cabin to wait for morning. He half regretted that he had not set out at once on foot for the larger lake as soon as he discovered that the amphibian was out of action, but it had been the thought that Biggles might have already started towards the smaller lake that deterred him. If they pa.s.sed each other on the way the position would simply be reversed and no good purpose served. At last, still racking his mind for a solution of the problem, he dropped off to sleep.

He was awakened by the reverberating roar of a low-flying aeroplane, and with his heart in his mouth he hurried through to the c.o.c.kpit and looked out. It was already daylight, although the sun had not yet risen, but it was not that which sent his heart down into his boots. It was the aeroplane that Ginger had once so well described, a low-wing monoplane with a biplane tail-Blackbeard's seaplane. What was worse, the pilot had obviously seen the amphibian, for the seaplane made a quick turn, the engine was throttled back, and it began gliding down towards him with the plain intention of landing.

Algy watched its floats cut twin streaks of white foam across the black water in silent misery.

CHAPTER XII.

TRAILED.

THE preceding day, twenty miles away, Biggles, Smyth and Ginger had spent an anxious day in their hiding-place while the forest was being combed for them by an army of men, a fact which cries and the crashing of bushes did not allow them to forget. By the afternoon they had given up all hope of Algy's arrival, knowing that only dire catastrophe could have prevented him from arriving at the rendezvous at the appointed hour; so they concentrated their efforts on evading capture until such time as they could decide on a course of action. They had more than one narrow escape, for search-parties came perilously close to them more than once. On one occasion, two men, carrying rifles, who had been beating the foresh.o.r.e, actually started towards their place of concealment, but at the last moment their attention was distracted to a different quarter by a pair of wild duck that arose into the air with loud quacks of alarm from some unseen cause.

With the approach of dusk the tension began to relax, and they gathered together to discuss the position.

"This is how I see things," began Biggles moodily. "Algy is down somewhere with the machine. Whether he has force-landed and crashed, or whether the machine is still all right, we do not know, but it seems pretty certain that he is not in a position to fly the machine or he would be here. Whether shortage of petrol or engine-failure is the cause does not matter; he isn't here and he can't get here by air. There is always a possibility that he landed safely, but was afterwards taken prisoner, and I am inclined to think that is what has happened, because if he himself was safe and sound he would get here somehow or other, even if he had to walk. That brings us to the crux of the problem with which we are faced. a.s.suming that he has managed to put the machine down somewhere, and has damaged it so that he cannot get off again, I doubt if he would try and get here in broad daylight. With all the activity that has been going on he would be caught before he had gone a mile. I think it is far more likely, now I come to think of it, that he would wait for darkness and then try and reach us. He may be on his way here at this very moment.

"What is our position? Every moment we delay here is fraught with danger, yet as far as I can see we have no alternative but to remain. If we left, where should we go? There is only one place where we could hope to find him, and that is the other lake, but we have no reason to suppose that he ever reached it. Moreover, if we started now the odds are that we should pa.s.s each other in the dark. Bear in mind that we could not afford to hail, or even allow ourselves to be seen by any casual strangers we may meet, in the hope that it might be him. On the contrary, we should have to do our best to avoid such an encounter, for fear of its being one of the soldiers-or whatever they are."

"There is just a chance, of course, that he may have had a temporary breakdown, something that he can repair himself, but that will take time," suggested Smyth. "In that case, he's bound to come on here as soon as he can."

"That's feasible," admitted Biggles.

"The only thing you do not seem to have considered is this," put in Ginger. "What about those machines that made him leave here in the first place? Suppose he barged into them, what then? Even if they didn't shoot him down, which they might, they'd simply follow him until he landed, knowing that sooner or later he would have to come down for more petrol."

"My word! I never thought of that," muttered Biggles, his frown deepening. "Lord, yes!

That would put the tin hat on it."

"Well, we can't help it," went on Ginger, philosophically. "If he had stayed here the result would have been the same."

"It all boils down to this," continued Biggles. "The only thing we can do for the moment is to stay here in the hope that he will turn up somehow or other, but there is a limit to how long we can stay. Quite apart from the danger of being found, we can't go on without food much longer. If he isn't here by dawn tomorrow, we shall have to go. We'll make for the other lake, and if he isn't there, try to reach a railway and go to Danzig. The only thing we could do then would be to report the matter to the British Consul. After all, our papers are in order, and if questions were asked as to what we were doing here, who is to say that we did not simply lose our way or get blown off our course by bad weather?

I'm beginning to wish that we had left this affair to the right people."

"I guess you're right," agreed Ginger, "but we won't give up hope yet. Something will turn up, you'll find; it usually does when things look as bad as they can be."

"I hope you're right," replied Biggles. "I don't know about you, but it's taking me all my time to keep awake. It seems weeks since I slept or had a square meal. We've got to spend the night here, so I suggest we take watches in turn while the others sleep; if we don't get some sleep we shall be dead on our feet tomorrow. Ginger, you're all in, I can see. Lie down and try to get a nap-you do the same, Smyth. I'll take the first watch. You'll take the second watch, Smyth; I'll wake you in three hours, as near as I can judge. You do three hours and then wake Ginger. If anyone hears anything suspicious he will wake up the others at once."

It seemed to Ginger that he had only just closed his eyes when he was awakened by a slight pressure on his shoulder. Accustomed to sleeping in strange places, often under the stars, he had dropped off to sleep as soon as his head touched the ground, and for the same reason he awoke just as easily.

"S-s-h! Don't make a noise," came Smyth's voice; "it's your watch; take over."

"O.K.," muttered Ginger, with a glance at Biggles' sleeping form.

The moon was up and cast an eerie light over the scene as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and began his vigil. All was quiet in the forest except for the soughing of the wind in the trees and the lap of water on the beach, which was now littered with small pieces of squared timber and fabric that had either drifted down or been blown before the wind from the workshops. He gazed far across the rippling moonlit waters of the lake in the direction of the seaplane-base, but no lights were showing. "There," he reflected, "is food in abundance." The thought, prompted, no doubt, by the gnawing pain under his belt, persisted, and he regarded the distant sh.o.r.e meditatively. The thought quickly grew to a longing that was not to be denied.

For ten days, up to the time Biggles had found him in the railway-hut, he had lived by "

scrounging," as he called it, and he had acquired a good deal of experience in the art. " I can't help them very much by staying here," he mused; "in fact, I'm really only in the way. If I could get hold of some grub I should feel that I was earning my keep." His conscience p.r.i.c.ked him over the matter of leaving the others without a guard, but they were sleeping quietly and the search-parties seemed to have been withdrawn; a long time had elapsed since they had heard the last calls in the forest. Perhaps, if he was lucky, he could get back before they awoke. He had a pencil and an old notebook in his pocket; he would leave them a note, telling them of his project, in case he was delayed or did not return. What a treat it would give them to wake up and find food set before them!

The thought decided him, and he rose stealthily to his feet. The gloomy blackness of the forest rather appalled him; what wild beasts did it harbour? He thrust the thought aside, and, after a last glance at the sleeping figures of his companions, crept silently away. The sombre fir-trees closed in around him, and he was alone in the forest.

Biggles awoke with a start, feeling that something was amiss, and sprang to his feet. He glanced down at the sleeping figure of Smyth, and then looked quickly to right and left.

"Ginger!" be said sharply.

There was no reply, but the sound awoke Smyth, who sat up abruptly.

"Where's that lad?" asked Biggles, looking down at him.

"Why, isn't he here?"

"I can't see him."

"I left him on guard when I turned in."

"Then what the d.i.c.kens is he up to; scouting, I suppose, the young a.s.s. Ginger!" he called again, but there was no answering hail.

"The young fool! I'll clip his ear when he comes back-hullo, what's this?" A small square of white paper had fluttered from his chest to the ground. He picked it up and saw that it was a leaf torn from a small notebook, and holding it up to the now fading moon-light saw that there was writing on one side. "This looks like a note," Biggles went on. "

Hold your coat round me while I strike a match."

"Dere Biggles," he read, "I've gon for some grubb. If I am not back by one houre after daylite go without me. Ginger."

Biggles blew out the match and ground the spark under his heel.

"What d'you know about that, eh?" asked Smyth.

Biggles shrugged his shoulders helplessly. "I don't know what to think about it," he said despairingly. "It's what in the old days would be called 'acting on one's own initiative.' It'

s a sort of mad thing that if it comes off makes the fellow a hero and gets him a decoration. If he fails he gets court-martialled and reprimanded for acting without orders.

You can't help admiring the kid's pluck; it's the last thing I should have thought of doing, I must admit. Where on earth does he think he's going to get grub from about here?

Surely he wouldn't be so absolutely crazy as to go back into the town."

"That's where he's gone," muttered Smyth; "you can bet your life on that; there's nowhere else for him to go."

"Well, we need food badly enough, and if he manages to get some it would be unfair to blame him for going; but this scattering of the party all over Russia is wrong, and the sooner we all get together again the better. I wish he hadn't gone; what are we going to do if he doesn't come back? We can't leave him here. I'll give him a ticking-off about leaving his post, you may be sure of that, but I shall be relieved to see the young beggar back here. If anything happens to him-but there, it's no use worrying. I wonder what the time is."

"Pretty nearly morning I should think, by the look of the sky. It will be light in another half-hour."

" I wonder if they will think we have escaped or if they will go on searching again as soon as it is light? " mused Biggles.

As if in answer, a sound reached them that made Smyth clutch at Biggles' arm, and even he turned pale. It was the deep, long-drawn howl of a hound on a blood-scent.

"By George!" breathed Biggles. "They've put hounds on our trail."

Again the dreadful sound was borne on the breeze to their straining ears. In the dim light of the false dawn it seemed to hold a quality of sinister finality that turned their blood to ice.

"I remember that animal," muttered Biggles. "I heard it when I was walking along the railway-track. Well, there's only one thing to do."

"What shall we do?"

"Get into the water-wade out into the rushes. We'll try to work our way round to the other side. It's no use trying to hide now; that beast will bring the guards straight here.

Come on."

Side by side they waded out into the cold water and started off along the edge of the lake, but Biggles realized at once that the task was almost hopeless. Under the water, the mud was several inches deep, and this, combined with the tangled roots of rushes and water weeds, made progress well-nigh impossible.

"It's no use, Smyth," said Biggles quietly. "We shall never get anywhere at this rate."

But Smyth was not listening. He was staring out over the water of the lake, now pale-grey with the approach of dawn, at a dark object that seemed to be drifting towards them.

"It's a machine," said Biggles in a strangled voice"Blackbeard's machine; I'd know it anywhere. This looks like the end."

"No!" cried Smyth suddenly. "The prop's stationary. It's adrift."

There is an old saying that the darkest hour comes before the dawn, and never was it more graphically demonstrated. From hopeless despair their emotions swung round in a flash to joy and hope. If they could only reach the machine, the whole business would a.s.sume a very different aspect.

"What's that on the port float?" cried Biggles sharply.

"It looks to me as if it's somebody on that float," replied Smyth in a queer voice, peering forward. "It's hard to see, but it looks like somebody splashing."