35 Biggles Takes A Holiday Read online

  "Have you travelled far today ? "questioned the Doctor, carelessly, as if the matter was of no real importance. "A fair distance," was Biggles'

  non-committal reply. "You had a fatiguing journey no doubt ? "

  "Not too bad."

  "You came by boat, of course ? "

  "A boat of sorts."

  "You tied it up securely, I hope, and in a safe place ? The river is subject to spates you know, and it might get carried away. Where did you leave it ? "

  "Down the river."

  "Will it be there long ? "

  "Not very long, I hope."

  "But it is available ? "

  "It will come back for me when I'm ready to go," explained Biggles.

  "I see. You were not molested on the way ? There are some rather unpleasant tribes of Indians, primitive little creatures, in the forest."

  "They didn't interfere with us, anyway," said Biggles nonchalantly. "In my experience people seldom trouble you unless you trouble them, and that goes for natives."

  "Yes, I think you are right," conceded the Doctor.

  By this time they were passing through the open gate, and Ginger, without making his interest conspicuous, took good stock of his surroundings. There was not much to see.

  The most noteworthy features was the hedge through which the gate was apparently the only way. It comprised the most ferocious looking cacti he had ever seen, and was not less than ten feet thick. A military barbed wire entanglement could not have been more effective had it been designed to keep people inside, or out. But after a few steps they emerged into a sylvan scene so delightful that it was hard to believe it could occur in the same district as the wilderness outside. It might have been a section of English parkland had it not been for the flamboyant tropical plants and shrubs that broke the vista. There were fruit trees, too, some of the commoner sorts, and others unknown to Ginger, who surveyed the scene with astonishment. The grounds were not large ; they embraced not more than three acres, for a guess. In the centre stood a white-painted house of some size, built in the style popular at the time of the early Spanish settlers in South America.

  There was another building some distance beyond, but just what it was could not easily be determined on account of intervening trees and shrubs. The owner offered no explanation. On the lawn in front of the house a black panther lay luxuriating in the hot sunshine like a contented cat. At the top of the steps which gave access to the front door there was a stand from which two macaws of incredibly beautiful colours watched the approach of the visitors with suspicious eyes. As the party neared the panther Ginger instinctively edged away a little until the Doctor, with a smile, told him that there was no danger. The animal was on a chain. "Elizabeth, that's her name, is quite friendly with those whom she knows," said the Doctor. "I wouldn't care to trust her with strangers, though. Like all her tribe, her apparent docility is only skin deep."

  Biggles said nothing as their host led the way up a broad flight of steps to the front door.

  The windows of the house, Ginger noticed in passing, were protected with the customary Spanish wrought-iron grilles.

  He was not surprised to find the interior of the house in keeping with the imposing exterior. The hall was furnished in simple yet impressive style, some fine old mahogany being much in evidence. Everything was beautifully kept, as if tended by a well-trained staff. A huge white vase of orchids made a spectacular display on an old polished chest which reflected their pristine beauty.

  The room into which the Doctor showed them was arranged with the same taste, yet with an eye to comfort. Long cane easy-chairs gave the apartment a cosy, lived-in appearance.

  A grand piano occupied a corner of the room. A massive safe occupied another.

  "Please sit down and make yourselves comfortable," invited the Doctor in his courteous cultured voice. ',What can I offer you ? A glass of wine perhaps ? I have some sherry that I can recommend. Or would you prefer your national British drink, beer ? "

  "So you've decided that we're British ? " murmured Biggles with a faint smile.

  " Pst ! How could I be mistaken ? But may I, without appearing impertinent, ask your name ? I don't think you mentioned it."

  Biggles supplied the information and introduced Ginger.

  The Doctor. bowed. "Thank you. There is no need for me to introduce myself. But how about some refreshment ? "

  "If you happen to have any lemons I'd like a long cold lemon squash," replied Biggles, who was, in fact, thirsty after the long walk.

  "Me too, please," put in Ginger.

  "You would like some ice in it ? " suggested the Doctor. "By all means, if it's available,"

  returned Biggles. "Why not ? Ice is not a difficult commodity to make, and in a climate like this it's indispensable." The Doctor clapped his hands twice.

  The summons was answered by a white man, a little man with a pale complexion and a face devoid of expression. He was dressed in a white steward's uniform. The Doctor spoke to him in Spanish and he withdrew, to reappear almost at once with a silver tray on which cut glass gleamed beside a silver sugar bowl and ice tongs. Ice clinked musically in a jug beside which lay several fine lemons. The man put the tray on a low table which the Doctor had brought forward and then went out. The Doctor himself cut the lemons and squeezed the juice into the glasses.

  "Please help yourself to water, or soda water if you prefer it," said he. "I will leave you to add sugar to your taste." He himself poured out a small glass of sherry from a long-necked decanter which stood with several others on a sideboard.

  "You seem to do yourself very well here, if I may say so," murmured Biggles, spilling a spoonful of sugar into his glass.

  "And why not ? " countered his host. "We only live once, so we might as well make the best of it."

  "It struck me as I came along that the people working in the valley don't seem to be getting much out of their lives," said Biggles pointedly.

  "That, my dear sir, is entirely their own fault," asserted the Doctor, with some warmth. "

  In this world, what a man gets is in direct ratio with his energy and mental capacity.

  Those who are satisfied with little, get little. Those who want more, strive until they get it. Unfortunately, there is an increasing tendancy with some people to expect a lot for little effort. They prefer to sit back and let others do their thinking for them, and then demand a share of whatever is going. You wouldn't deny that ? "

  "No, I wouldn't," agreed Biggles after a brief hesitation.

  "Take these people outside as a case in point," continued the Doctor. "What each is getting is in proportion to his productive ability. The same factors apply here as in civilisation. Give a man money, goods, pleasure, for doing nothing, and he will do nothing. To get the best out of him you must deny him what he wants ; only then will he have the industry to help himself."

  Ginger looked at the speaker curiously. He spoke earnestly, almost fervently, and his argument, on the face of it, seemed sound enough. It was hard to believe that he was not sincere.

  "It may be that these people expected something different when they came here," said Biggles, thoughtfully stirring his lemonade.

  "I can't accept that as a basis for argument," demurred the Doctor. "A man, if he is to be successful, must be able to adapt himself to the conditions he encounters. Adaptability is as important as education—perhaps more so. When you came through my garden just now you could see for yourself what is possible here. There is no reason why the entire valley should not be made to smile in the same way."

  "Is that your ambition ? "questioned Biggles.

  "Of course. What else ? Or perhaps it would be more correct to say that it was my ambition when I came here. I'm beginning to get a bit despondent though."

  "From which I gather that the project isn't working out quite as you planned ? "

  The Doctor sighed. "How can I deny it ? What is needed here is co-operation and a whole-hearted determination to succeed. I get neither. Each th
inks only of himself, hoping that the others will do the necessary work —which is, of course, a common failing in human nature. The task is not easy ; I will not pretend that it is. But then, nothing worth while is obtained easily. If it were, human endeavour would cease and progress cease with it." The Doctor's voice rose a tone in his enthusiasm. "I assure you, my dear sir, if I could get these people to put their hearts into their work, if I could induce them to expend one tenth of the energy that I do, you would soon see a big difference in the place. I even do their thinking for them. All they have to do is carry out my suggestions. Do they ? No! Some of them actually come to me with complaints, that the work is too hard, that they don't like the climate. What about me ? The climate is no kinder to me than it is to them, but I don't try td back out. As I point out to them, there is nothing to prevent me from going tomorrow, leaving them to carry on as best they can. I prefer to stay. I started the thing and I'll see it through. I may succeed yet. But good gracious, what am I doing, boring you with my difficulties ? May I ask you why I have been honoured with this visit—a visit which, I assure you, is a welcome diversion from my daily routine."

  "You may," returned Biggles frankly. "You have here a mutual friend of ours, one Angus Mackail. We would like to see him. We came for that purpose. You know him, of course

  ? "

  "Most certainly I know him," confirmed the Doctor. "He's a very good type. Had his health not let him down he would, I am sure, have made his mark here."

  "Has he been sick, then ? "

  "He suffers badly from fever, as do we all, more or less. The malarial mosquito is one of the curses science has not yet been able to eradicate."

  "It's pretty bad here, eh ? "

  "No worse, I think, than in most tropical countries. But as in West Africa, Burma, and many other countries, it is the greatest obstacle to development. It not only lowers the constitution, but impairs the will to succeed."

  "Is Mackail sick now ? "

  "I don't think so. At least, he was working on his land yesterday, and doing very well with it. He has just harvested quite a good crop of grain. Would you like to see him right away ? "

  "I would," said Biggles. "If you'll tell me where he is

  "My dear sir, there's no need for you to exhaust yourself by walking about in the heat of the day. Besides, it's nearly lunch time. I'll send for him and he can join us here for lunch.

  "

  "I'd rather—" began Biggles, but the Doctor went on.

  "Don't mention it. It's no trouble at all. Mackail is often here to see me." The Doctor clapped his hands again and the summons produced the same man as before. "We would like to see Mr. Mackail," he ordered. "Send for him and bring him here as soon as he arrives." As before the Doctor spoke in Spanish, a language understood by both Biggles and Ginger, so neither questioned the sincerity of the message, which sounded as straightforward as anything could be.

  Ginger glanced at Biggles, wondering what he was really thinking. For his own part, he hardly knew what to make of a situation which was developing on lines very different from what he had expected. He even found himself apologising mentally to the Doctor for suspicions which were, he thought, exaggerated, if not unfounded.

  Their host turned back to them. "Your friend should be along in about half an hour," he stated. "You will take lunch with me here, I hope ? "

  "If it isn't trespassing on your hospitality, thank you," answered Biggles.

  "Not in the least. A visitor is always a welcome diversion. We don't have enough.

  Moreover, you do not appear to have brought any provisions with you. Was that an oversight ? "

  "Not exactly," replied Biggles. "We didn't expect to be here long."

  "Just how long do you intend staying, if I may ask ? "

  "I haven't really thought about it," returned Biggles who, like Ginger, if the truth must be told, was not a little puzzled by this reception. He smiled. "Of course, if you are going to treat us like royalty you may find that we outstay our welcome." He looked hard at the Doctor as he spoke, for it irritated him slightly when he suddenly realised that he, who had come to ask questions, had been systematically questioned, although without being downright rude he could not see how it could have been avoided. Not once had the Doctor given him an opportunity to steer the conversation into the channel he had planned. Far from that, he had been frankness itself.

  "I'm afraid we haven't managed to build an hotel yet," said the Doctor, smiling and showing his unorthodox dentures. "I should be honoured if you would stay with me here for as long as you are in the valley. Stay as long as you like. I seldom have a visitor and there is no lack of accommodation."

  "That's very kind of you," answered Biggles slowly. But he was thinking fast. "Do you mind if I defer my answer to the invitation until after I have seen Mackail ? "

  "Not in the least, my dear sir. Why should I? Have another drink ? "

  "Not at the moment, thanks. Tell me, how long do you intend to go on with this very interesting experiment ? "

  " Experiment ? "

  "In colonisation."

  The Doctor laughed. "Of course ! For a moment I wondered what you meant. It is an experiment, I suppose.

  I shall stay here until I am satisfied that the thing is, or is not, possible. Sometimes I think I have had enough ; then something happens to revive my hopes of success. I have put a lot into the place—all I have, in fact—and I dislike very much the idea of having to admit failure."

  "You must have spent a lot of money," murmured Biggles.

  "Not so much as you might think," answered the Doctor smoothly. "The initial outlay was considerable, I must confess, and all my savings went into it. But it was no use half doing the thing. Actually, the financial side no longer interests me. I am concerned only with the success of the enterprise, and what that will mean to those who have helped me.

  After all, what is money ? It's the curse of civilisation, although as things are organised it cannot be entirely dispensed with. If I can make the valley self-supporting, which is my ultimate goal, the question of money need not arise. I have tried to make the people here see that. At this juncture a certain amount of money is essential to keep the thing going.

  Indeed, it is shortage of capital that is holding us back. With ample funds modern agricultural machinery could be acquired, and that would go far to eliminate the manual labour which is so trying in a climate such as this. Not that it is any worse here than in most places in the tropics. It is merely the lack of facilities to counteract it that makes life more tedious than it need be. Think how different it would be with an attractive clubhouse, with electric fans and other devices for keeping the air sweet and cool. Given the necessary funds, better accommodation and better transportation, this valley would soon be the envy of every city in so-called civilisation. It would be a living pattern of what could be done. People would come from far and near to see it. In fact, in a project such as this, run on cosmopolitan lines, may be found the answer to the great problem humanity has to face—how to ensure permanent peace. But here. . . ." The Doctor made a gesture. "Forgive me. Sometimes I allow my dreams to run away with me. I only wish I could inspire some of the people here with them." The Doctor's voice ended on such a note of sadness that Ginger stared at the man. In spite of all that he knew he found it almost impossible to believe that this was all an act, put on for their benefit.

  The Doctor turned to Biggles and went on. "What I really need here is an able lieutenant, someone like yourself, someone with vision and vitality, to get the thing going again, for I'm afraid I'm losing heart, and despondency is infectious. I suppose you wouldn't care to stay for a while, and think the thing over ? Later, perhaps, we could discuss the scheme in more detail."

  Fortunately perhaps for Biggles, before he could answer, the man who had been sent to fetch Angus returned. His manner was slightly agitated and apologetic. He spoke quickly to the Doctor, who threw up his hands before turning to Biggles.

  "How very
provoking " he exclaimed. " Mackail cannot be found."

  Biggles' expression hardened. "What do you mean—cannot be found ? Isn't he on his—

  er—farm ? "

  "Apparently not. No one has seen him since last night. I can't think what could have happened to him. Surely he wouldn't decide to leave without saying good-bye to me ? "

  "What leads you to think that he might have left ? " asked Biggles slowly, his eyes on the Doctor's face.

  "His things have gone."

  " What things ? "

  "I'm thinking particularly of the grain he has just harvested—I mentioned it to you you may remember ? It is no longer in his house. He had borrowed from me a short axe for clearing some ground. That cannot be found, either. Dear, dear ; how very unfortunate that he should choose this moment to go off without leaving word of where he was going. A most lamentable coincidence."

  Biggles tapped a cigarette thoughtfully on the back of his hand. "As you say, a most unfortunate—er—coincidence. Still, he can't have gone far. We may find him."

  "I sincerely hope so, for my sake," said the Doctor fervently.

  "I hope so, too, for everybody's sake," returned Biggles softly.

  "I'll see what can be done," declared the Doctor, with a sudden urgency. "Will you forgive me if I leave you for a moment while I make further inquiries ? I shall not be long. Please make yourselves at home. Clap your hands if you need anything. My man will be at your service."

  Biggles nodded. "Go ahead," he said. "Having come so far to see my friend I wouldn't think of leaving without having made contact with him."

  "Naturally," agreed the Doctor warmly as he walked to the door.

  V

  SECTION TWENTY-THREE

  AS soon as Liebgarten had left the room Ginger turned questioning eyes to Biggles, glad to have an opportunity of unburdening himself of the problems that now exercised his mind. "Well," he said softly, "what do you make of that ? I must say he seems genuine enough."

  "Of course he does," returned Biggles, tapping the ash off his cigarette. "We knew he would. Linton impressed that on me. He had some of it. But I agree with you ; his story, as he puts it, not only has a ring of truth in it, but is in the main literally true, and for that reason it is not easy for me, without being offensive, to demand an explanation of his conduct here, as I intended. In spite of all Linton told me there were moments when I found myself feeling sorry for the man. There is, of course, a different version of the story—the version that people outside could tell ; but you can't call a man a liar when you know that what he is saying is true. Put it this way. If he was one hundred per cent genuine his story might well present the true state of affairs here. Had I not been forewarned I should have been taken in by it. But there's another side to the picture ; naturally, he has tried to keep us from seeing that, but we must always keep it in mind."