The Cruise Of The Condor Part 6

"I shan't be sorry to get back," admitted Algy, mopping the perspiration from his facer "

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 b.u.t.terflies you could make," he went on, pointing to a cloud of huge brilliant-coloured b.u.t.terflies 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.

d.i.c.kpa 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 b.u.t.t 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 n.o.body," interrupted Biggles crisply. "No one on earth could have antic.i.p.ated this. Who would think of camouflaging a machine in such a place? Pah, . don't be silly, d.i.c.kpa. 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 Indians, but it seemed so unlikely that the Condor could be seen from the main stream that I had no fears about leaving her there. Even if we had known what they were up to, it would have made no difference; 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 d.i.c.kpa; "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 d.i.c.kpa, 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.

"But you're crazy, man. You wouldn't get half-way without being pulled down by crocs.

This is where I come in," declared d.i.c.kpa. "Let's start and knock up a balsa."

"A what?"

"Balsa-a raft made of reeds. They use them a lot in Bolivia-in fact, they make their boats that way. It will only be rough, but it might float long enough to see you across to the other side. It's worth trying, anyway. I remember seeing plenty of reeds a little higher up. Algy, you bend a bamboo into a hoop and cover it with a piece of your shirt, or anything you like, to make a paddle.

Come on, Smyth, and you, Biggles," concluded d.i.c.kpa, leading the way into the bushes.

In five minutes they were hard at work cutting down the reeds, tying them into bundles, and binding them tightly with lianas, of which there were plenty to hand and which made quite pa.s.sable subst.i.tutes for ropes. The bundles were lashed together side by side and then another layer fastened on top. It was quite dark by the time the job was done and the improvised raft dragged down into the water. It floated-sluggishly, it is true, and settled fairly deep in the water when Biggles crawled cautiously on to it. "Give me that paddle, Algy," he said quickly; "she won't float long."

Algy pa.s.sed the primitive paddle, and Biggles pushed the frail craft away from the bank with a quick shove. "I shan't be long," came his voice from the darkness. "Wait where you are, and, if you hear me whistle, answer. Cheerio."

Once on the river proper, Biggles paddled furiously for the opposite bank about two hundred yards away. Half-way across he could feel that the flimsy raft had settled a lot deeper in the water, and progress became slower. It was difficult to keep straight, and for every few yards of headway he made he drifted farther downstream with the current. He was still fifty yards from the bank when it became completely submerged, but it still supported him, and he flung his weight behind the paddle.

A long, sinister shadow broke the surface of the water close behind him, a shadow that cut a fine ripple in the still water and began to overtake him. Biggles knew quite well what it was; a crocodile had scented him and was hard on his trail. The water was half-way up his body now, and, realising that the raft no longer afforded any protection against the impending attack of the monster, and that he could in fact travel faster by swimming, he flung the paddle aside and struck out in a swift overarm stroke for the sh.o.r.e. It was a racing stroke, and one that he could not keep up for long, but he had only a short distance to cover, and he flung himself ash.o.r.e in a last frantic spurt. Even as he did so something like an iron gate clashed just behind his heels.

He darted across the beach and then paused for breath, trembling slightly, for the strain of the last two months had been intense. Opportunely, the crescent moon rose above the tree-tops and shed a silvery radiance over the scene. He watched a long, log-like object slowly submerging in the water near the bank, and then, with a shudder, turned his face resolutely towards the hut and its grisly tenant. It was nervy work, this picking his way among the fantastic shadows on the sh.o.r.e of an uncharted river, more trying than flying through a sky swarming with enemy aircraft. They at least were tangible, real, and something he understood, but here he was faced with unknown dangers and factors outside his experience. The black, impenetrable forest wall was a curtain that concealed-what? He did not know, but furtive rustlings helped his imagination to visualise horrors that crawled and slithered through the ooze. Every shadow was a menace that might hold some denizen of the forest or the black oily river waiting and watching for its prey.

Once he stopped while a monstrous crab with tall, stilt-like legs and waving antennae marched with a curious clicking noise across the beach into the water, and a few moments later, pa.s.sing across the shadows of some tangled rope-like lianas, one of them came to life and glided, as silent as the shadows themselves, into the forest. For a second Biggles came near to panicking, but he set his teeth and hurried on, brushing away with his shirt-sleeve the beads of icy perspiration that gathered on his forehead.

The hut came into view at last, and he hesitated, striking irritably at a great white moth that hovered over his head. Somehow the flimsy walls looked very different in the pale light of the moon from what they had done in the bright light of day, but he knew it was the memory of what they concealed that prompted his misgivings. "Bah! Dead men don't bite," he muttered harshly, and, wondering vaguely where he had heard or read the words, he strode swiftly towards the canoe. He was bending over it, clearing the debris from the bottom, when a sound reached his ears that sent the blood draining from his face and seemed to freeze his heart into a ball of ice. Something had moved inside the hut.

He did not stir a finger, but turned his eyes towards it. They confirmed what his ears had told him; the roof of the hut was swaying-only slightly, but moving beyond all shadow of doubt. He ceased to breathe, listening. Silence. The scene, which was engraved on Biggles's memory for ever, was wrapped in a silence so complete and utter that it seemed to press on him. A . wave of unreality swept over him: that it was not true, that he was dreaming, a horrid nightmare from which he would presently awake. He felt that he was a detached spectator, something apart, watching, as it were, a silent film. How long he remained thus he did not know, for time had ceased to be. It might have been a minute, five minutes, or even ten; he was never able to say; but he was just beginning to breathe again when the silence was broken by a low choking moan that ended in something like a drawn-out sob.

For the first time in his life Biggles knew the meaning of the word fear-stark, paralysing fear. He tried to move, to run, to place himself as far as possible from the accursed place, but his limbs refused to function. His mouth had turned bone-dry, so that his tongue clove to it. He could only stare. Then, with a crash that broke the spell, the loose reeds parted, and a dark form leapt to the ground. At the same instant Biggles sprang to his feet. Before him, not ten yards away, stood a black panther, its eyes gleaming and its tail swishing to and fro like that of an angry cat. For perhaps a second man and beast faced each other, and then before the man could move, the beast bounded lightly away into the forest and disappeared.

In his relief Biggles laughed aloud, a sound so horrible that he broke off in the middle, realising with a shock that he was near hysteria. "This won't do," he snarled, furious with himself for so nearly breaking down, for the whole thing was plain enough now. The beast's presence in the hut was natural enough, and he had no doubt as to the ghastly object of its visit. "I shall feel better when I turn my back on this place," he muttered as he turned to the canoe.

It was in rather worse condition than he had expected. As usual with canoes used in such places, it had been cut out of a solid tree and was about twenty feet long. It was rotten in many places, as he quickly discovered when he tried to move it, for a piece of the freeboard came away in his hand, leaving an ugly gap. It was heavy, and he was afraid of using all his strength to move it in case it collapsed altogether. He hunted around and soon found two bamboo poles. Using these as rollers, he slipped the canoe smoothly across the narrow strip of beach, and floated it on the placid surface of the river.

There was only one paddle, but fortunately it was of hard wood and still in fairly good condition, so, taking his seat in the stern, he drove the canoe towards the opposite bank.

He found that the primitive craft had not been cut quite true, and at first steering was rather awkward, but he soon became accustomed to its peculiarities and was able to keep a fairly straight and speedy course towards the backwater where the others awaited him.

He experienced no difficulty in finding them, for they were evidently keeping a sharp look-out and his low whistle was immediately answered from the darkness.

"Good work," exclaimed d.i.c.kpa enthusiastically as the nose of the canoe grounded. "

You were gone rather a long time, though, and gave us a rare fright."

"Nothing to the fright I gave myself," Biggles a.s.sured him, pleased with the success of his mission.

"What happened?"

"I'll tell you about it some other time," answered Biggles. "If I talk about it now I shall have the heebie-jeebies. We've no time to lose, anyway. I've been thinking of our best plan as I paddled across, and this, I think, is it. If you can think of a better one, say so."

"Go ahead," invited d.i.c.kpa.

"Righto. Now, Silas & Co. are somewhere down- stream ",.

"Are you sure of that?"

"Pretty well sure. There were several nice landing-places below us-we pa.s.sed them on the way up-but there are only one or two rather risky places above us. They came up the river looking for us, and spotted the machine right away, as they were almost certain to. They landed and found no one at home. Fine. What did they do? They simply took the Condor in tow and pushed off to a place which would suit them as a base while they were looking for us. Now we've two things in our favour. In the first place, they will probably think we shall be away two or three days at least, and, secondly, they'll fancy themselves quite safe if they moor up on the opposite side of the river, because they will not imagine for a moment that we have any means of getting across. That's where they've b.o.o.bed. They won't be expecting us, and may not even keep a watch. Right! Our first business is to locate them, and that's got to be done before morning, before they set out to locate us. Having found them, we split up, one party to make a feint attack from the sh.o.r.e while the others cut out the machine. Algy and I will have a go for the machine; that's automatic, because we're pilots, and if one of us gets hurt the other can carry on.

"You, d.i.c.kpa, and Smyth, make up the sh.o.r.e party. When we've spotted the machine, we'll pull into the bank and let you land. Algy and I will cross over to the other side, creep along the bank, and try to slip across without being spotted. We'll synchronise our watches, and at a certain time, which we'll fix, Algy and I will board the Condor and cut her loose. If we can do that and drift away without being discovered, well and good, but if we're spotted you will open fire from a position commanding their camp, which you will have already taken up. Get that clear, because in a show of this sort perfect timing and absolute adherence to plan is necessary. Zero hour will depend on what time we find them, provided, of course, we do find them. We can make twelve or fourteen miles before dawn, although they should not be all that far away. At the time we fix, Algy, and I will board the Condor. If an alarm is given, you must kick up the biggest row you can.

In the confusion we shall cut and run for it. Speed will be everything. If the engines start easily, we might even get away before they grasp what is going on, and if you keep up a fairly rapid fire that will keep them under cover. We may get a chance to damage their machine, but I shan't take any risks to do it; our job is to get our own. If we succeed in doing that, they won't see us for dust and small pebbles, Well, how does that sound to you?"

"I don't think I can better it," admitted d.i.c.kpa. "Surprise is the most valuable a.s.set in any attack, and we have that in our favour. a.s.suming that you get the Condor, what is the next move? What about Smyth and me?"

"We shall taxi the Condor up the river, and, a.s.suming that all goes well, pick you up where we put you ash.o.r.e. You may be pursued-or so may we, if it comes to that-but we shall have to leave that to Chance. We shall keep a look-out for you on the bank; I don't think we can fix anything more definite than that. What do you think about it, Algy? Can you think of anything we've overlooked, or you, Smyth?"

"What about weapons?" asked Algy.

"What have we got? The 12-bore and the rifle. d.i.c.kpa and Smyth will have to take those, of course. We shan't need any-or at least I don't think so. If the thing ends in a pitched battle at close range, the machine will be knocked about for a certainty, and we must avoid that at all costs. I expect we shall come in for a warm time if they spot us, and if they do we shall simply have to bolt for it. Anything else?"

The final question was greeted with silence, so Biggles turned in the direction of the canoe. "All aboard, then," he said. Without further ado they took their places in the dead negro's canoe. It carried them comfortably, for, although its crew had normally consisted of one member, it was designed to carry a fairly large cargo of rubber, which weighs heavily. So the canoe, while low in the water, accommodated them well. Biggles, with the rifle across his knees, took the lookout post in front, whilst d.i.c.kpa, on account of his long experience in handling such craft, took the paddle. The others sat between them, Algy watching the left bank and Smyth the right. Like a shadow they slipped out of the backwater, and, keeping in the heavy shade near the bank, were soon gliding swiftly downstream.

An hour pa.s.sed slowly. No one spoke; the steady swish of the paddle was the only sound that marked their progress. Each bend, as they approached it, was taken slowly and cautiously, Biggles straining his eyes forward into the gloom for signs of their enemies.

A quarter of an hour later he uttered a warning "Hist!" and raised his hand above his head. d.i.c.kpa twisted the paddle deep in the water and pulled the canoe up in its own length, edging in towards the sh.o.r.e.

"Easy all," breathed Biggles. "There they are."

"About half a mile away, I should judge," observed d.i.c.kpa quietly, with his eyes fixed on a fire on the opposite bank. It was only a small camp fire, but against the pitch-black silhouette of the forest it showed up like a beacon.

"What's the time by your watch, d.i.c.kpa?" asked 'Biggles.

"Twelve thirty-four."

"Good. I'll set mine the same. How will one-thirty a.m. suit for zero hour? That should give you ample time to reach them. You may have time to spare, but that's better than underdoing it. I suppose you can find your way through the forest?"

"I never move without my compa.s.s," replied d.i.c.kpa shortly. "One-thirty is the time, then."

"Righto! We all know what we have to do. Straight across to the other bank, d.i.c.kpa."

Five minutes later the canoe sc.r.a.ped her nose on the sandy bank of a bend, which afforded a good landing-place out of sight of the enemy camp. Like many South American rivers, this one had sand or mud beaches on alternative sides at bends, due to silt being brought down in time of floods.

An almost inaudible "Cheerio-good luck!" came from the bank, and then d.i.c.kpa and Smyth were swallowed up in the Stygian darkness of the forest belt. For some minutes Biggles and Algy were silent.

"No hurry," said Biggles at last. "We must give them a good start. They're bound to be a lot longer getting down than we shall. It's better to hang about here than lower down, where we might be seen. My word, isn't it hot?"

"I don't mind the heat so much; it's the mosquitoes that get me down," groaned Algy. "

They're tearing me to pieces."

Again silence fell. Occasionally a noise reached them from farther down the river of firewood being cut, or the rattle of a tin can or plate. The waiting, as is always the case, was a weary and nerve-trying period, and Algy was thankful when Biggles at last announced that it was time they were moving.

They backed the canoe high enough up the river to ensure that it could not be seen from the enemy camp as they crossed over to the opposite bank, and then began stealthily edging along in the deepest shadows. They were soon in line with the now smouldering embers of the camp fire, and they pointed the nose of the canoe towards it. They were half-way over before the dim outlines of two aeroplanes became dimly visible, and Biggles rested on his paddle to study the position of the enemy camp. The fire had been built on a flat, sandy beach, and around it were four rec.u.mbent human forms. A fifth, who had evidently been left on guard, was sitting upright with a gun across his knees; as they watched, he added a handful of fuel to the fire, which caused it to burn up brightly and cast a ruddy glow over the scene, across which danced fantastic flickering shadows.

Near the group was a pile of stores, and a little farther away a good-sized stack of familiar, square petrol-tins.

About ten yards from the sh.o.r.e a four-engined flying-boat was moored, the one they had seen in the air and which could now be identified as an American. Near it, so close that their wing-tips almost touched, was the Condor. The sentry was obviously not keeping a very good look-out, which did not surprise them, for the enemy had little reason to suppose that they had anything to fear from the stranded treasure-seekers. Nevertheless, the pilots realised that in the dead silence of the tropic night the slightest sound could not fail to be heard.

Biggles glanced at his wrist.w.a.tch. "Ten minutes to go," he breathed in Algy's ear, manoeuvring the canoe so that the aeroplanes came between the sentry's line of vision and themselves. Very slowly, and with hardly a ripple, they crept nearer, until at last the canoe gently touched the side of the Condor. Algy, who had already removed his boots and hung them round his neck by the laces, crept aboard. Biggles looked again at his watch; the time was one twenty-nine, one minute to zero hour. With infinite patience he began edging the canoe towards the nose of the amphibian, and, reaching it he quietly sawed through the rope by which it was moored. Then, still keeping on the off side from the sentry, he crept like a wraith into the c.o.c.kpit. A fleeting glance showed the abandoned canoe, clear of the hull, drifting slowly down the stream.

For perhaps a couple of minutes Biggles thought they were going to float away un.o.bserved without a shot being fired, but in this he was doomed to disappointment.

Just as they were almost clear of the other flying-boat a stray slant of wind swung them round slightly, so that the wing-tip touched the elevators of the other machine. The noise made was negligible, merely a sc.r.a.ping jar that ended in a soft splash as the other machine righted itself, but it was sufficient to bring the sentry to his feet. For an instant he stared at the amphibian, now moving perceptibly as it felt the current, and then he let out a wild yell. He flung up his gun, and its report blended with two others that roared out from the pitch-black forest wall. Simultaneously pandemonium broke loose. Above a shrill medley of sounds punctuated with the crashing reports of guns and the clanging of metal as some bullets struck the stack of petrol-tins, Biggles heard Algy's sharp, "Contact!" He pressed the self-starter and the engines came to life with a bellow of sound that added to the frightful uproar.

The men on the bank, awakened from a deep sleep, and clearly at a loss to know exactly what was happening except that they were obviously being attacked from the land, now turned their attention to this new development. A volley of shots now -rang out, and one or two bullets ripped through the fabric of the Condor.

But Biggles was taxi-ing now, swinging round in a wide circle to face upstream. Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat tat-he' caught himself flinching as a machine-gun started its erratic stutter, spraying the amphibian and the surrounding water with a shower of lead. He opened the throttles a little wider, racing as fast as he dared without actually leaving the water, to escape the leaden hail. With his eyes fixed intently ahead, he caught his breath as they fell upon a big, black object lying right across their path. A broken, jagged arm flung itself upwards, and he knew it was a great tree turning slowly over and over as it floated towards the sea. He knew that to strike such an obstacle at the rate they were travelling would tear the keel out of the amphibian as if it were so much tissue paper.

Stop he could not, neither was there time to turn to avoid it. Automatically he took the only course open to him; he thrust the throttles wide open and, as the machine leapt forward, jerked the joystick back into his stomach. The threshing smother of foam dropped away below and astern as the Condor soared upwards like a bird into the starry tropic sky.

At a thousand feet Biggles flattened out and looked about him. Below lay the river, gleaming in the silvery radiance of the moon. On both sides, stretching away into the infinite distance, was the forest, black and forbidding. Below he could see the camp with the fire shining like a red star that had fallen upon the beach. He glanced round at the low door that communicated with the cabin, wondering why Algy did not join him, at the same time heading for their old landing-place higher up the river. He was anxious to put the machine down as quickly as possible, not because there was any particular danger in staying aloft, but because he wished to pick up d.i.c.kpa and Smyth, and in any case they could not afford to go on using petrol. Their only real danger lay in the landing, which, without flares, would have been difficult enough at night in a land plane; but in the present circ.u.mstances called for much greater skill and judgment. Presently he saw their old landing-place about two miles ahead, and started to side-slip down. Near the water he throttled back and flattened out over the lagoon. The keel swished lightly over the surface, and Biggles breathed freely again. It had been ticklish work in the dark, but the luck had been with him.

"Now where are d.i.c.kpa and Smyth?" said Algy.

"My word, yes, we shall have to go back for them. The show went off all right, but, as usual, the unforeseen happened. I didn't reckon on tree-trunks."

"Tree-trunk, was it? I couldn't think what you were up to when we shot into the air. I thought you'd gone balmy."

"I nearly did, and so would you. We seem to have had a merry evening, one way and another."

"But what had we better do about the others?" "There's only one thing we can do-taxi slowly down the bank looking for them. What's the matter?"

Algy, who was sniffing the air, looked around slowly.

"Can you smell petrol?" he asked anxiously.

Biggles started. "I can," he said briefly. "There's a leak somewhere. Confound it! That's going to be awkward."

A few minutes' search disclosed the trouble; a bullet had pa.s.sed clean through the main tank. frantically they began plugging the hole, but presently gave it up, realising it was too late to do any good; the precious liquid had gone beyond recovery, leaving the tank dry.

"That's just about torn it," observed Biggles calmly. "I've been flying on the special tank, so there can't be much left in it. There may be enough in the gravity tank for half an hour'

s flying, and there is a little in the tins in the cabin. It's better than nothing, but it isn't enough-not half enough-to get us back."

Algy did not speak.

"Never mind; it can't be helped," went on Biggles. "Let's settle one thing at a time.

Before we do anything else we must find d.i.c.kpa and Smyth. We'll settle what we're going to do afterwards."

They turned the machine and taxied quickly but carefully down the river. Presently Biggles throttled back and cruised more slowly, while Algy watched the bank closely.

"There they are!" he called suddenly.

The Condor swung round almost in its own length and nosed in towards the bank, where two figures were gesticulating frantically. They ceased when they saw the machine standing in towards them, and a minute later d.i.c.kpa and Smyth clambered over the side.

Without waiting for explanations, Biggles turned again and taxied upstream as quickly as he dared to their original landing-place, taking care to moor on the bank opposite to the one where the Indians had made their unexpected attack.

"Well, here we are," announced Biggles. "Are you all right, d.i.c.kpa-and you, Smyth?"

"Right as rain," came the reply. "We had no trouble at all. You seem to have had all the fun."

"Fun!" cried Biggles incredulously. "Fun, you call it! If you call aviating in the middle of the night across an unknown forest fun, you've got a queer sense of humour."

Briefly he related all that had happened. "I don't know about you," he concluded, "but before I can do anything else I must have some sleep. I'm about all in. Smyth, you'd better see about repairing the hole in the tank at the crack of dawn."

Smyth nodded.

"We'd better sleep on board as best we can," observed d.i.c.kpa, "and we shall have to take turns to keep watch. We can't afford to take any more chances with those gentry down the river."