Biggles In the South Seas Read online

  Ginger regarded the scene through a side window, spellbound with delight. 'What a paradise! ' was all he could say.

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  `Yes, I reckon it's as near Paradise as anywhere on earth,' agreed Sandy. 'But like every paradise, there are serpents.'

  `Serpents?' queried Ginger. 'You said—'

  `Losh, I'm not thinking of snakes,' declared Sandy. 'It's a bit hard to explain,' he went on.

  'Nature is seldom prodigal without throwing in a snag or two. Breadfruit and bananas grow on those hills—but so do poisons. There are orchids in the woods—and there are also sandflies, which. bite like fury and leave a spot of blood where they bite. There are pearls in the sea, but there are also sharks, and other unpleasant things. Living coral is one of the loveliest things in the world, but don't scratch yourself on it, or you may be poisoned. And on top of all that, there's sickness. A hundred years ago there were more than ten thousand people on this island; now there aren't more than two hundred. The rest have died from the diseases white men have brought, like consumption, or from leprosy brought by the Chinese. A few more years, and all the natives will be gone; a tragedy, for they are just big lovable children, The curse of it is they know they're dying, and they don't care. They'll hardly bother to pick the breadfruit and coconuts. But don't let's talk about it.'

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  By this time the 'Scud' was on the water, taxi-ing towards the village where a little crowd of natives stood dancing with excitement.

  'This is the first time an aeroplane has landed here, I guess,' remarked Sandy, putting his head out of the window. 'Kaoha,' he roared.

  The excitement on the beach was intensified, and it was clear that Sandy had been recognized—not a difficult matter in view of his red hair. Several canoes were launched, and by the time the voyagers were near the beach ready to disembark the 'Scud' was surrounded by natives of both sexes and all ages, some swimming and some in canoes. They greeted Sandy joyfully by name, calling him Andie. He in turn spoke to several of them personally, and the air was full of delighted greetings of `Kaoha'. Leaving the '

  Scud' riding at anchor on the still water, the airmen climbed into the willing canoes and were soon on the palm-fringed beach.

  Sandy took an old, heavily tattooed native by the arm and pulled him towards Biggles. '

  Let me introduce you to Chief Roaring Wave,' he said, and shouted with laughter at the alarmed expression on Biggles's face as the Chief smelt him carefully before rubbing noses. 'The Chief doesn't speak much English, but he knows French, although he prefers to use his awn Marquesas,' went on Sandy. 'I know a bit of the lingo so we shall get on all right.'

  Biggles noticed that several young men kept in the background, and he called Sandy's attention to the fact. 'They look as if they'd rather hit us on the head with a war club than be friendly,' he observed.

  Sandy spoke to the Chief, who answered with a pantomime of actions; then he turned again to the others. 'Roaring Wave says they're afraid of being kidnapped,' he said. 'That'

  s the result of Castanelli coming here and running off with Shell-Breaker.'

  'Tell him that we are going to try to get Shell-Breaker back,' answered Biggles. Sandy spoke again to the Chief, and once more translated for the benefit of the others. '

  He says everything on the island is ours,' he announced. 'He means it, too—you needn't doubt that. They'll give you anything, these people.

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  He says he's having a house prepared for us right away, and will give a feast to-night.'

  Ìt's all right about the house, but I'm not so sure about the feast,' returned Biggles. 'If that was Castanelli's schooner we saw he ought to arrive here soon after dark. Rather than get involved in a party, we ought to watch for it.'

  Sandy had another long conversation with the Chief. `He understands,' he said, turning to Biggles. 'He is going to send some warriors up into the hills to keep watch, and will warn us when the Avarata shows up. Hello! There's little Full Moon, Shell-Breaker's girl friend. She was with him when they picked me up, you remember.'

  A pretty girl of about fifteen years of age, in a light blue pareu—the single garment common to both sexes—her brown skin glowing with health, ran up, laughing, and seized Sandy's hands without any suggestion of shyness. `Kaoha! Kaoha, Andie,' she said, over and over again.

  Sandy pulled her hair affectionately. 'We're going to get Shell-Breaker back,' he told her. At the mention of her lost friend her face clouded. Aue!, she said sadly. 'I weep for him.'

  `Come on, let's get some food ashore,' broke in Biggles. `We'd better bring a few presents for the Chief, too. We can then make ourselves comfortable for the evening.'

  Many willing hands helped them with the light task, and they were soon in the 'house' the Chief had placed at their disposal.

  `How far are we now from your island?' Biggles asked Sandy.

  `Twenty to thirty miles, not more.'

  `Wouldn't it be better to use this place as a base?'

  Ì'm afraid we should use too much petrol going to and fro. We might have a lot of journeys to make, going out and back every day, and it would soon use up what we've got. If we go across to my island it wouldn't even be necessary for us to fly; we could just taxi out to the pearl-bed every morning—at least, in calm weather. Then again, I doubt if it would be wise to let too many people know what we are doing. There is always a chance of a schooner calling, and these people in all innocence might give our game away.'

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  Biggles nodded. 'I think you're right,' he said. 'We'll go on to your island as soon as we've settled our account with Castanelli.'

  The light meal was soon over, and Ginger, unable to contain his curiosity, strolled outside and walked slowly along the deserted beach to a point beyond the village, which consisted merely of a few palm-thatched huts set in a grove of towering coconut palms. The sea was flat calm. The sun was going down, leaving the sky a pale egg-shell blue. The fronds of the palms, quivering in the last breath of breeze, came gradually to rest. The silence was almost uncanny. Before him stretched the beach, devoid of life except for innumerable hermit crabs that snapped their shells at his approach before bolting into their holes among the rocks. Farther on, the way appeared to be barred by a huge landslide of rocks that had fallen from a cliff above. Remembering Sandy's warning he went no farther, but had stopped to gaze at the scene when there came a patter of footsteps behind him. Looking round he saw that it was Full Moon, carrying a primitive fishing-rod.

  `Plenty tupa,' she said, smiling, pointing at the crabs. `Plenty fish, too. You watch.' She took Ginger's hand and walked on to the rocks, clambering over them until she found a place that suited her, when, baiting her hook with pieces of shrimp, she soon had a number of small fish flopping on the rock, giving each one its native name as she hauled it out, making Ginger repeat the names after her.

  Ginger, enthralled, could-only gaze down through the crystal-clear water at the strange world below. He could see every cranny and crevice in the rocks, about which darted shoals of brightly coloured fish, appearing to float in air. Once he saw a huge eel, fully fifteen feet long, with a terrifying face, glide smoothly out of a dark cavern and disappear under an overhanging ledge. He was still watching the spot for it to reappear when he became aware that Full Moon was no longer chattering and, looking round to ascertain the cause of her silence, he saw that she was gazing fixedly at a gloomy cave in the rocks near to which they had passed in order to reach the place they now occupied, and which they would have to re-pass to reach the beach. He, too, stared at the cave, and experienced an

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  unpleasant sensation akin to fear when he saw something move. A wild shriek from Full Moon split the silence. Facing the village and cupping her hands round her mouth she screamed, `Feke—feke—feker

  Instantly four or five men dashed out of their houses and raced towards the spot, each carrying a long fish-spear. They shouted excitedly at Full Moon as they approached, but she only pointe
d to the cave. 'Feke,' she said again.

  The men formed a rough semicircle round the front of the cave, while Ginger, who was wishing himself farther from the scene, moved back, although he could not get very far on account of the face of cliff that backed the rocks. With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, he could only watch the cave, whence now darted out long arms towards the natives. Full Moon joined him. `Ta-ta-ta-ta,' she rattled out. 'We are not afraid of the ugly beast. See, that is my brother.' She pointed to one of the natives. 'He has killed many feke. Pakeka! We will kill this one, too.'

  `What is it?' asked Ginger, although he had already a pretty good idea.

  `Debil fish. Big Debil fish.'

  Ginger pressed himself back against the cliff as the huge octopus slowly emerged from the cave to give battle to the prancing warriors who menaced it. Never in his life had he seen such a horror. It was a huge, dark-purple mass of flesh, covered with warty excrescences, with a head rather like that of an elephant. In it were set two enormous slate-grey eyes, gleaming with demoniac hate. Eight arms coiled and groped out fourteen or fifteen feet in front of it. Ginger was only a few yards from their extremities. The natives stood their ground, slashing and stabbing furiously, but the octopus advanced. Once a slimy arm touched Ginger's leg, and at its icy touch he cried out. One of the warriors slashed it off, but the piece of tentacle still clung to his leg, until with a shuddering of loathing he tore it away.

  The natives now launched a furious attack, ripping and slashing with their knives as well as spears. Several of the coiling arms were severed or mutilated, and to Ginger's unspeakable horror the beast began moaning and groaning

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  in a dreadfully human manner. But the fight was nearly over. The warriors rushed in and thrust again and again into the quivering body until it ceased to move. Full Moon danced with joy. 'We will eat him,' she cried, laughing into Ginger's face.

  `You can—but not me,' declared Ginger, who was nearly sick at the thought. 'Phew, what a brute! I think I'll go back and join the others.'

  Leaving Full Moon helping to cut up the carcass, he returned to the house through the gathering twilight. But before he could describe his adventure a tattooed warrior came racing down the hill towards them. ',Atanelli, he come! ' he cried.

  `He means Castanelli,' declared Sandy. 'We'd better go and hear the news.'

  T HERE was no need to go far, for most of the village had assembled on the beach, and the warriors were chattering with excitement. Sandy listened for a moment or two. 'That'

  s awkward,' he said, turning to the others. 'It's Castanelli all right, but he has put into a bay on the far side of the island. I ought to have thought of that. He is probably afraid to come in here, in case somebody sticks a spear into him. Some of the young bloods are talking about doing it. I've told them not to; we don't want murder done—at least, not while we're here.'

  `Well, what's the best thing to do?' asked Biggles. 'How far is it round the coast to this bay?'

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  `You can't get round the coast—except, of course, by canoe. I should say it would be between fifteen and twenty miles.'

  Biggles whistled. 'As much as that? How far if we cut across the island?'

  `Seven or eight miles, but it isn't easy going. I've never done it, but I've been part of the way. It's the dickens of a pull across that central ridge; it goes up to over three thousand feet, you know. And it's dangerous; not only on account of falling, although if you miss your step you might drop a thousand feet before you hit the jungle underneath, but there are wild animals.'

  `What sort of wild animals?' asked Ginger.

  `Bulls and dogs. The dogs are the worst. I'm only speaking from hearsay, but I've heard tales about a pack of white dogs that run wild on a plateau somewhere up there. It's a tame breed gone wild; the dogs must have been left behind by a trader or a whaling-ship years ago. Cats go wild in the same way on many of the islands.'

  Ì can't think that they'd be likely to worry us,' replied Biggles. 'But I leave it to you. Is the trip practicable? We don't want Castanelli to get away with that boy if we can prevent it.'

  Ì'll ask Roaring Wave,' answered Sandy, walking over to the Chief. He was soon back. '

  Yes, he says it can be done,' he announced, 'but it's tough going. He will let us have some boys who know the way to guide us.'

  `Then the sooner we start the better,' declared Biggles. `What about weapons—had we better take rifles?'

  `We don't want to clutter ourselves up more than is necessary,' returned Sandy. 'And we don't want to start a gun battle. We've all got revolvers. They ought to be enough.'

  Àll right. Then tell the Chief we are ready to start.'

  In a few minutes they were on their way, escorted by half-a-dozen warriors with torches, and soon found themselves following a trail up a steep mountain-side, hemmed in on both sides by impenetrable jungle, all the more sinister on account of the flickering torches.

  Crossing a brook Ginger felt a hand slip into his, and

  looking down to see who it was he was amazed to find

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  Full Moon. `Kaoha,' she said, smiling, showing her white teeth. `Me come.'

  Ginger regarded her bare feet in alarm. 'You'll get your feet cut to pieces,' he said.

  `No cut,' declared Full Moon. 'Plenty hard—run on coral.'

  Biggles, hearing talking, turned round. 'Here, what are you doing?' he asked, as his eyes fell on Full Moon.

  Òh, leave her alone,' put in Sandy. 'You needn't worry about her. In fact, she may come in useful. Shell-Breaker is her friend, don't forget.'

  Àll right, if you say so,' returned Biggles briefly, and went on up the trail, which now followed the course of the brook. Wild flowers, including many species of orchids, grew in luxuriant profusion among giant maidenhair ferns, and hung in garlands from treeferns. Thousands of guinea-pigs scampered away in front of them. The path became steeper and steeper, climbing higher and higher above deep gorges, and skirting fearful precipices. The breadfruit-trees and coconut palms were left far below. The trail disappeared under enormous boulders, and it was often necessary to leap from rock to rock.

  Looking back while passing across an open space, Ginger saw that they were on the saw-like ridge of what must once have been the crater of a volcano. Far below lay the anchorage, the 'Scud', her white wings reflecting the moonlight, looking like a minute winged insect inside the sweep of the bay. Beyond, the open sea gleamed like quicksilver, stretching, it seemed, to eternity, far beyond the concern of mortal men. The path went on up. Ginger had climbed many mountains, but never one like this. It seemed as if the earth itself had exploded, pouring out its rocky heart and leaving it in every conceivable fantastic shape. Now in single file, the torch-bearers, unconcerned, skirted a chasm so deep that Ginger dared not look down it. He remembered it afterwards for a long time. It haunted him in his sleep. But he struggled on along the jagged ridge, clutching at handholds whenever they offered. Full Moon leapt lightly from rock to rock, laughing at Ginger's nervousness.

  It was the summit, or rather the apex, of the ridge, and

  thereafter the trail began to fall quickly towards a deep, 39

  basin-like depression, clear of trees, which Ginger suspected was the crater of the extinct volcano. Reaching the centre of it, the warriors extinguished their fast-expiring torches and sat down to rest. Ginger was glad of it, and threw himself down beside the others. Hardly had he done so when he was brought to his feet again by the bloodcurdling howls of what sounded like a wolf-pack in full cry. The warriors also sprang up in alarm, and took refuge behind the white men. 'The dogs—the dogs! ' cried one.

  `By gosh! They're right. Here they come!' snapped Biggles, jumping up and taking out his automatic as a pack of white dogs, ghostly in the moonlight, burst into view. They ran straight at the party.

  Ginger grabbed Full Moon and thrust her behind him, at the same time levelling his weapon. Shots rang out. A great white beast was ne
arly on him. He fired point blank, and then side-stepped, dragging Full Moon with him away from the howling animal, which was instantly set upon by others and torn to pieces.

  The crater rang with the crash of shots and the snarls of wounded animals. The warriors had lighted their torches again, and flinging handfuls of dry grass on them soon had a fire blazing. The dogs backed away and sat down in a circle, tongues lolling, like a ring of ghosts; some had dragged away their wounded companions, and these they now devoured with much snarling.

  `Well, what do we do next?' Biggles asked Sandy, who was in earnest conversation with the warriors.

  `The boys say they will have to make fresh torches; the dogs won't face fire,' answered Sandy.

  Ì'm pleased to hear it,' returned Biggles grimly. 'Otherwise we look like being stuck here till morning.'

  The natives were already collecting bunches of dry grass, and these they now tied on the ends of sticks while others kept guard. However, the dogs made no attempt to attack again, and when the fresh torches were lighted, flooding the scene with a ruddy glare, they began to slink away. The retirement became a rout when the natives began hurling firebrands and rocks at them.

  Once the crater had been crossed the path dropped quickly, and the party was soon once more hemmed in by jungle. Soft moss flourished under foot. Nothing more was 40

  seen of the dogs. Ginger reached for an exquisite feathery flower, intending to give it to Full Moon; but the girl seized his arm and pulled it away. 'Puke,' she said quickly. `Puke.'

  Sandy looked round. 'Hi, don't touch that! ' he shouted. Ìt's puke.'

  `What's puke, anyway?' inquired Ginger.

  `You touch it and you'll know—and you'll never forget,' returned Sandy. 'It stings like fury. Stinging-nettles are balm compared with that stuff.'

  Ginger went on thoughtfully, a trifle resentful that South Sea islands were not living up to the reputation with which he had credited them.

  Another hour of steady walking, the last part accompanied by a heavy shower of rain, brought the party once more to the region of coconut palms. The natives stopped and put out their torches. One of them spoke quickly to Sandy.