Biggles In The Cruise Of The Condor (02) Read online

  "Going back into the enemy camp sounds a grim proposition to me," muttered Biggles doubtfully.

  "But I have friends there as well as enemies," replied Dickpa.

  "Well, you please yourself, but I should feel inclined to leave it alone if I were you," advised Biggles. "After all, you have plenty of money. Why risk a knife in the back to get more?"

  Dickpa shrugged his shoulders. "It isn't altogether the monetary value of the treasure that appeals to me; it is the historical value of what I know exists there."

  "I see," replied Biggles slowly. "Well, if you are determined to go back, the thing is to think of the quickest way of getting out there, getting the treasure, and then getting back.

  "

  "Precisely!"

  "Have you ever thought of flying?" enquired Biggles, after a moment's pause. It was Dickpa's turn to start. "I have not," he said emphatically. "Most certainly I have not. Do you for one moment suppose I am likely to risk my neck in one of your crazy contraptions?"

  "You might do worse," retorted Biggles, frowning. "I can't understand people like you. You take the most outrageous risks with crazy natives, poisonous reptiles, wild beasts, fever, and goodness knows what else, yet you jib at the safest form of transport in the world."

  "But

  "Never mind but," broke in Biggles. "It looks to me as if you haven't much choice if you don't want to be murdered en route, Dash it all, it seems to me the answer to the question.

  "

  "Where would we fly to from here?" asked Dickpa doubtfully.

  "To Liverpool, I expect, or to your point of embarkation, but, if it comes to that, I don't see why you shouldn't do the whole job by air—except, of course, the Atlantic crossing."

  "Good heavens, man!"

  "Well, why not?"

  "What about the Atlantic, though?"

  "Dash the Atlantic. I'm not flying over any oceans myself, so you needn't worry about that. We could fly to Liverpool, ship the plane to America, and go over ourselves by boat. We'd pick up our equipment again over the other side."

  "Why do you say 'we'?"

  "We three. Who else?"

  "Then you'd come?"

  "Of course we'd come. I was only saying to Algy as we came up the drive that I was about sick of loafing about. This proposition sounds interesting to me."

  "I don't know what to think about it," muttered Dickpa anxiously. "I think the best thing would be for you to work out a definite plan of action for the whole trip. Then we'll have a round-table conference about it, and I'll decide if it sounds practicable. How's that?"

  "Fine! But first of all you'd better tell me a few things about the Matey Grocer

  "The Matto Grosso."

  "Sorry. Well, tell us about it, so that Algy and I can' determine the best sort of aircraft to be employed."

  "Very well, let's take our coffee into the smoke-room. The atlas is there, and the windows command a better view of the grounds in case our besiegers try any funny stuff.

  "

  "They won't find it so funny if they do," growled Biggles, scowling, as they made their way to the long, low, oak-panelled hall which was used as a smoke-room.

  CHAPTER II

  DICKPA EXPLAINS

  "THE Matto Grosso," began Dickpa when they had made themselves comfortable, "is nominally a province of Brazil. Actually it is almost the whole vast centre of the South American continent. To the north lies the Amazon, to the west the great Cordillera of the Andean Range, and to the south lies another vast, tract of unexplored country. It is hard to describe, in terms of figures the magnitude of the place. You, see, Brazil is larger than the whole of the United States of America. Try and grasp what that means. The area of England is just over 50,000 square miles; Brazil covers 3.25 million square miles. The Matto Grosso is nearly a million square miles in extent, which means that it is nearly twenty times as large as England, and except for a few insignificant places it is unexplored. It is the wildest and least-known country in the world to-day. Mighty unnamed mountains rise to high heaven, and rivers, so huge that the Thames would be no more , than a ditch compared to them, thread their way across it. Its immensity is overpowering. It is a land of open plains and forests often larger than the United Kingdom, and inhabited by wild tribes, some of whom have not yet seen a white man. It is a land where distances are measured, not in miles or hundreds of miles, but thousands of miles and months of travel. It is a poor land and yet a rich land, poor in foodproducing plants and animals but rich beyond calculation in minerals. Gold, silver, platinum, mercury, tin, lead, iron, copper, not to speak of diamonds, rubies, and other precious stones, are found, but, owing to the difficulties of obtaining labour and supplies, these are barely touched. The forests are full of valuable timbers, which remain there for the same reason. The greatest wealth of the country has come from the rubber, which, as you know, is collected from the trees which exist near the banks of the rivers, which are the only highways."

  "What are the weather conditions like?" asked Biggles with interest.

  "On the uplands it can be cold at night, but, being in the tropics, the days are usually very hot. Storms of rain, such as we do not understand in this country, sweep across the country in the rainy season."

  "Any wild beasts—lions or things like that?" asked Algy anxiously. Dickpa laughed. "No lions," he said. "The jaguar is about the only animal of the cat family one need fear. There are many other wild animals, of course—queer beasts, most of them—but none to cause alarm. The rivers are full of crocodiles, and pirhanas are found in many places."

  "What are they?" asked Giggles with interest.

  Dickpa looked grave for a moment. "They are quite small fish, about the size of herrings, but perhaps the most bloodthirsty little wretches in the world. They go about in huge shoals, and woe betide the unfortunate man who encounters them in the water. They are armed with sharp teeth, and have a grip like a bulldog that will take the piece right out of whatever they bite. They have been known to clean the flesh off a man's bones—or an animal's, if it comes to that —leaving only the white skeleton, in a matter of a few minutes. Even people wading have been attacked, and died from loss of blood before they could take the few steps necessary to reach the bank. The ferocity of their attack must be seen to be believed. One drop of blood in the water will fetch every pirhana for miles, and the natives fear them more than all the crocodiles and big water-snakes put together."

  "I can see I shan't do much swimming," muttered Biggles, with a grimace. "And did you say snakes?"

  "Oh, yes, you'll find snakes everywhere, both on the land and in the water, including some of the largest in the world. They often run upwards of twenty feet in length. I could tell you some queer tales about snakes," mused the old explorer reflectively.

  "I shouldn't, not unless you want me to change my mind about coming," interposed Biggles.

  "The snakes don't really matter; one soon gets accustomed to them," went on Dickpa. " The real pests, except the natives, who have the nasty habit of poisoning their weapons, are the insects, and they do scare me, I must confess. There are so many of them. There are bees which do not sting, but make your life a misery by crawling all over you—into your eyes, ears, nose, and even mouth."

  "We can fly higher than they can," observed Biggles confidently.

  "You might, but they'll be waiting for you when you land," observed Dickpa dryly. "The ants are the very dickens. They are everywhere in countless myriads, in all colours and sizes. Sometimes they march about in columns, and sometimes they work independently, but they are always on the rampage. I don't know which are the worst, the big saubas, which are over an inch long and bite like the very devil, or the cupim, which are the notorious white ants and the most destructive creatures in the world. Nothing is safe from them. Leave your hat or coat on the ground at night and it will be gone in the morning, carried away in thousands of tiny pieces. They eat the entire middles out of trees, which is one of the reasons why trees are always crash
ing down in the forest. You must never forget the ants—not that they give you much chance of forgetting them—for they are the real rulers of the country.

  "Then there are the piums, tiny beasts worse than

  mosquitoes, which squirt a sort of acid into your eyes, and the polvoras—the name really means 'powder', because they are so small. They fly about literally in billions and sting you all over. Worse still, perhaps, is the little horror known as the carrapato, which is a flat beast about the size of the end of a lead pencil. It has wonderful clinging powers by means of hooks on its feet. Its great object in life is to stick its head under your skin and suck your blood. The trouble is, you can't get it off. If you pull it the head breaks off and sticks in your skin and makes a nasty sore. The only way is to get it out with a pin." Dickpa paused to let his words sink in.

  "Any more horrors?" asked Biggles.

  "Plenty," replied Dickpa, grinning. "There are the carrapatinhos, which are the younger and perhaps more active brothers of the carrapatos."

  "Don't tell me about them," broke in Biggles quickly.

  "Sounds a good place for a picnic," observed Algy dryly. "What is the country itself like—I mean as far as possible landing-places are concerned?"

  "Well, that's a big question," answered Dickpa. "Like most other wild countries, yon get a bit of everything: forest, swamp, and plain. Some of the country has to be seen to be believed. It is nearly all volcanic. Once upon a time, it must have been one colossal roaring furnace, with great craters throwing up ashes and lava for great distances. You'll find cinders everywhere, and great, round, queer-shaped stones which were once molten rock, but have now solidified. In places the earth has sunk, leaving mighty masses of rock sticking up thousands of feet into the air. Goodness knows what is on top of them; in most places the walls rise sheer from the plain, so it is impossible to climb them. There are places where formations like churches, castles and other buildings can be seen. In my opinion, these are simply odd-shaped pinnacles of rock, but one or two of the very few people who have

  been there think differently. Colonel Fawcett, for instance, spent years in the country, and was firmly convinced they were the ruins of a lost civilization. Poor fellow, he did not come back from his last journey. It is now almost certain that he and his son Jack were killed by hostile tribes in the interior. They disappeared, leaving no trace behind them. A well-equipped expedition has been out to look for them or try and solve the mystery, but in vain." Dickpa paused to relight his pipe, which had gone out.

  "Tell me this," asked Biggles. "What are our chances of landing near the treasure? I mean, is there a flat plain handy, or a large river or lake where a flying-boat or seaplane could be put down?"

  "Both of them," replied Dickpa quickly. "The place is not far from a large river about a hundred yards wide, generally deep, but shallow in places. There are islands in it, and sandbanks at intervals. The actual ground in the district is flat enough, but there are boulders, ant-hills, and occasional patches of matto, or dwarf scrub and forest."

  "The boulders and ant-hills sound awkward," observed Biggles.

  "I'm afraid they are scattered about almost everywhere," nodded Dickpa, "although there are, of course, plenty of places where you could land an aeroplane, if you knew where they were."

  "It doesn't sound very inviting, all the same," mused Biggles. "If we bumped into a boulder and bust the machine we should be in a bonny mess. But go on, Dickpa."

  "Well, generally speaking, that is what most of the country over which we should have to fly is like," continued Dickpa. "I do not profess to understand aviation, but I should think the rivers would be the safest places to land on, although you would have to be careful of waterfalls, rapids, and cataracts. In any

  case, in order to reach the place we should have to fly up the river, at least as far as Manaos, which is the best part of a thousand miles from the sea, in order to start as near as possible to our final destination with a full load of stores and petrol. I can wire to my agent there to get those things ready for us. You must understand there is nothing anywhere else, absolutely nothing except what I have told you. There are no habitations or places where food can be obtained. Isn't there some sort of aeroplane which can come down on both land and water? I seem to remember seeing pictures of such a machine in the papers, a—a—what was it called?"

  "Amphibian," said Biggles quickly.

  "That's right," said Dickpa. "But perhaps I had better tell you that the actual treasure is on, or rather in, a hill. I'll tell you how I stumbled on it, then you'll get a better grasp of the whole thing." Dickpa filled his pipe and settled a little deeper in his chair before he continued. "I was exploring a tributary of the Madeira river, which in turn is a tributary of the Amazon, travelling, of course, by canoe. The difficulties of travelling overland are almost insurmountable. I had four porters with me, as I have told you, and a pretty lot of cut-throats they were. I had already overheard them discussing the possibility of murdering me and stealing my outfit, and you can readily imagine that travelling in these circumstances becomes a bit of a strain. We were in an interesting stretch of country. If you look at the maps of the district—such as they are—you will see mountain ranges dotted about. They are usually shown in the maps many miles from where they really are; indeed, I came to the conclusion years ago that most of the physical features shown on the maps are just stuck in by the map-makers for decoration.

  "I had wandered away along such a range of mountains and came to the side of a steep cliff, which rose

  perhaps a thousand feet or so above the small stream along which I was walking. As far as I knew, no living people had ever been there before, the nearest being the Bororo Indians, who at that time had a settlement about a hundred miles to the north. These Indian tribes are nomadic; that is, they wander about the country choosing new sites for their camp from time to time. They burn the undergrowth, scratch the earth, plant their mingao, or corn, and then, as the jungle closes in on it, which it soon does, they move along to a fresh place. The only clothes they wear are big macaw and parrot feathers stuck in their hair. They are a treacherous lot, and I was quite glad they were some way away and that I was in a district where, as far as I knew, they never came.

  "I was just passing a big fissure, or crack in the rock, when my eye fell on something that pulled me up with a jerk. It was a rock carving, quite small and simple—the sort of device a schoolboy might make with a penknife while he was idly waiting for somebody. I took a closer look and nearly let out a yell, for the design, which represented the rising sun, was characteristically of Inca origin. It was definite proof of my theories, as it showed conclusively that an Inca army, or a soldier at least, had penetrated as far westward. I hunted around looking for more, but in vain, and then I thought that something might be found in the cleft itself, so in I went. The first thing I stumbled on was a piece of pottery, also unmistakably of Inca manufacture. Striking matches, I advanced, and soon picked up a copper spear. That settled it, for the Incas were the only people to discover the secret of tempering copper to steel-like hardness.

  "As you can imagine, I began to see I was on the track of something. The cleft had by this time widened out into quite a cave, and I went on slowly. Then I saw a small oblongshaped article lying at my feet. I picked it up, and when I felt its weight I didn't have to look to see what it was." Dickpa leaned forward dramatically. "Gold," he whispered, " a lump of solid gold. It was, in fact, the piece I have already shown you. Then I got a facer. The cave came to an abrupt end. From side to side and from floor to ceiling was a wall that had obviously been built by the hand of man. It was formed of great blocks of stone mortised together without mortar, and fitting so tightly that you couldn't get a knife-blade between them. Only one race in the world could do that. Incas! Bolivia and Peru abound in walls and buildings constructed in the same way.

  "Well, there it was. What lay behind the wall? I didn't know, but I could guess. Obviously they hadn't built a wall like
that just there for fun. No, it hid something the builders were anxious to hide, and the bar of gold I had found told its own story. They had left a guard at the entrance while they were working, and he, in a fit of absentmindedness, had carelessly left a mark that betrayed the secret.

  "Trembling with excitement, I hurried back to the entrance of the cave, and reached it just as my last match went out. I had been in there longer than I thought, and it was nearly dark outside. However, I reached camp and found things in a serious state; my men were having one of their regular mutinies, but one glance showed me it was worse than usual. Philippe came up to me with a nasty scowl on his face and told me he wouldn'

  t go on any farther; the men wanted their pay and were going home. I gave them their money and told them they could get off as soon as they liked and I hoped they'd enjoy being killed and eaten by Indians. That was the usual way I met their demands, and from experience I knew perfectly well that when it came to the pinch they wouldn't go, because without me they knew they'd stand a jolly poor chance of getting through.

  "Then a tragedy happened. I was taking off my coat, to wash, when the material, rotten with the damp

  heat, broke under the weight of the gold which was in the pocket and the lump of yellow metal fell to the ground. Philippe broke off in the middle of a sentence and stared at it, fascinated. Then he dragged his eyes away and looked at me. He knew what it was, for I saw a look of greed and hatred in his eyes. I picked it up carelessly, as if it was nothing important, but it didn't deceive him, and presently I saw him in earnest conversation with the others. I was in a pretty pickle, and I knew it. It was out of the question to think of breaking down the wall in the cave, for my men would never now let me out of their sight, and if once they saw what I suspected was behind that wall my life wouldn't be worth a moment's purchase. Luckily they did not know where the place was. What to do I didn't know, but finally I slung my hammock as usual some distance from the men and went to bed to think it over.