Biggles In the South Seas Page 6

  announced Sandy.

  `Does Biggles know where it is?'

  Ì gave him the bearing yesterday.'

  `Then if it was correct he'll find it,' declared Ginger.

  In ten minutes the island came into view, and in as' many more the 'Scud' was gliding down to an anchorage in a lagoon so perfect that Ginger was enchanted. He looked at Shell-Breaker and Full Moon and smiled, noting that they seemed to be taking their first flight not only calmly but as a matter of course. He remarked on this to Sandy. Èverything the white man does is marvellous,' Sandy told him. 'There can be nothing more wonderful to them

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  than a box of matches or a gramophone. They've seen so many wonders in their time that they are past being astonished.'

  Biggles turned round and laughed quietly as the machine ran to rest on the calm water of the lagoon. 'Well, here we are,' he said cheerfully. 'What did you think of my takeoff?'

  `Nothing,' declared Sandy. 'I was too scared even to yell.'

  `You were no more scared than I was,' returned Biggles. Ìf ever I was sure my number was up it was when that big wave reared up and grabbed at us. But let's forget it. I hope that now we are here we shall have a little peace. Where had we better moor the machine? The nearer it is to our camp the better.'

  `You can't do better than over there, near that group of palms,' replied Sandy. 'The water is fairly deep right up to the bank, so we can step straight out of the machine on to more or less dry land. That's where I had my hut—over there.' He pointed to a low, palmthatched shelter near the trees. Ànd you lived there for three months?' murmured Ginger, thoughtfully. Ì did,' agreed Sandy, as Biggles taxied the machine slowly to the place he had indicated. Presently the engines idled, and then stopped, leaving the machine floating on water so clear that it was hard to believe that it was there.

  Biggles climbed out on to a bank of coral. 'We'll tie up here,' he said. 'Then we'll get everything ashore we're likely to need and so be ready to start work in the morning.'

  The machine was accordingly made fast by the bows to a projecting piece of coral, a safe mooring as there was not a ripple on the water. Stores and spare petrol were put ashore and then carried to Sandy's hut, which on inspection was found to be serviceable enough to provide them with all the shelter they needed. Shell-Breaker and Full Moon helped in the work, their light-hearted chatter lending an atmosphere of gaiety to the scene. The diving-gear was left on board, as it would, be needed the next day.

  `Which way does the pearl-bed lie?' asked Biggles.

  Òver there,' answered Sandy, pointing. 'By this time to-morrow we ought to be raising the shell.'

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  `By jingo! I've just remembered something,' remarked Algy. 'Who is going to open all the oysters?'

  Sandy laughed. 'Open them? That's all right if you've only one or two, but you don't bother when you are dealing with the number we shall have to handle. We'd better rot them out, as it's called—that is, dump them on the beach. When the fish die the shells open. Then you feel inside to see if there is anything there. if not, you tip the - stuff into a bucket and stir it up. If you happen to have missed a pearl it falls to the bottom. Incidentally, you never open an oyster and throw the refuse into the sea while diving is in progress. It attracts undesirable visitors —such as sharks.'

  `Doesn't all this rotting fish stink?' questioned Algy. `Stinks like nothing on earth, but if we keep it to the lee-ward side of the island it won't worry us.'

  While this conversation had been going on they had been preparing a meal, and now they sat down and enjoyed it. Ginger was in favour of making a raid on the pearl-bed right away, but Biggles vetoed this, as he said he wanted to look over the machine and get everything arranged in camp. In any case, Sandy announced that he would be some time assembling the diving-kit.

  Ginger amused himself exploring the lagoon with Full Moon and Shell-Breaker. The only word that he could find to describe it was 'fairyland'. What impressed him most was the transparent blueness of the crystal-clear atmosphere and the delicate blue of the sky in contrast to the emerald green of the palms and deep clear turquoise of the water, through which swam hundreds of fish, some large, of every colour of the rainbow. Here and there, close to the reef, which was half hidden under a sun-filtered cloud of spray, great pieces of snow-white coral rose out of the sea; from where he stood they looked like icebergs. The floor of the lagoon was a kaleidoscopic world of mystery, the home of coral of every hue and shape—pink, blue, green, yellow, every colour of an artist's palette was there, unimaginably lovely; delicate antennae of rose or azure curled upwards like living plants; some were shaped like fans, some like cones, and others like gigantic toadstools. It was a brilliant world, yet soft and harmonious, magical, and almost unbelievable. Once Ginger saw a huge

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  slug, two feet long, crawling on the bottom, and he shuddered, remembering Sandy's words about beauty and horror going hand in hand. Full Moon, noting his disgust, dived into the water and, swimming without effort to the bottom, picked up the slug and brought it to the surface, laughing loudly at Ginger's expression of loathing. She threw it away and climbed out, shaking the water from her skin like a dog. Ginger judged that the island was three or four miles - long, but not more than three hundred yards across at its widest part. On the lagoon side the water was as smooth as a lake, but on the other side the surf thundered in a cloud of glinting spray, and the coral was strewn with countless thousands of shells, of all shapes, sizes, and colours, with the skeletons of fish, and even the teeth of sea-monsters. The waves were constantly throwing up more.

  On the island itself there was not much vegetation except for the palms, which often grew to the water's edge, within reach of the spray. Lush grass and flowering shrubs covered the highest part of the atoll, however, although it was not more than twenty-five feet above water-level, recalling to Ginger's mind Sandy's remark about atolls sometimes being swept by hurricane seas. For the rest, the island was empty of life except for thousands of hermit crabs, that snapped in and out of their shells with a noise like hailstones falling, and a few sea birds. Towards evening, when the tide began to ebb, the silence was eerie, and in the trance-like calm that fell, Ginger, depressed by the utter loneliness of the scene, walked slowly back to the others. Even Full Moon and ShellBreaker were subdued. He found a brisk fire burning, and the cheerful atmosphere of a picnic about the camp.

  Biggles called to him. 'You're taking the first watch,' he said. 'I'm not risking Castanelli creeping in on us in the dark.'

  `Good enough, Chief,' acknowledged Ginger, squatting down on the coral sand with the others. 'This place is certainly the end of the world,' he observed, thoughtfully. 'I'm not so sure that I should like to be stranded here, after all.'

  T HE following morning, at break of day, after a night made restless by crabs which insisted on invading the hut, the party boarded the flying-boat with the object of visiting the pearl-bed. Sandy, Full Moon, and Shell-Breaker had paid no attention whatever to the crabs, but the others, moving about, had disturbed them, so they were all rather tired. However, it was a perfect morning for their project, for even the open sea was flat calm, as could be seen by the complete absence of spray on the reef surrounding the lagoon. Under Sandy's guidance Biggles taxied cautiously towards the opening, for although there were no waves the tide poured through the narrow passage with considerable force. It was, Sandy declared, the only opening in the reef, so as the tide ebbed and flowed the water poured in and out with the power of a mill-race. However, Biggles held the flyingboat's bows in the current without difficulty, for he had two engines, and owing to its shallow draught the flying-boat did not feel the tide as a boat would have done. As soon as they were on the open sea Sandy pointed. `That's the direction,' he said. 'It's hardly worth taking off. It will be easier to stay on the water, but we must keep a lookout for reefs—you never know where they are going to pop up in these coral seas.'

  To Ginger, sitting astride the nace
lle, this taxi-ing over blue water in the manner of a speed-boat was exhilarating, and he sang with joy as he gazed at the water ahead for possible obstructions. For a quarter of an hour they drove steadily towards their unseen objective, and then Sandy told Biggles to slow down, for they were near the spot. Naturally, as it was not marked in any way he could not be certain of it to within a few hundred yards, for at sea even instrument-reading are only approximate; so Biggles throttled back to dead slow to allow Sandy to take sound55

  ings. But Sandy did not succeed in finding the bottom. 'It must be somewhere about here,

  ' he said. 'Cruise around for a bit; keep her slow.'

  Biggles manoeuvred the flying-boat as Sandy had requested while the others, choosing what they thought the best positions, gazed down into the tranquil depths, looking for the sea-bed.

  Àll right, Biggles, stop her! ' called Sandy. 'Let her drift. We needn't waste petrol.' He took a. long look at the island and compared it with their position. 'It's just about here somewhere,' he said again. 'The trouble is, the sea is normal; there's no swell—at least, not as much as when I was here last. That ought to make diving easier, but it makes the place harder to find.'

  Biggles throttled right hack, leaving the engines just ticking over, so that the 'Scud' rested motionless on the limpid surface of the water, her drift being imperceptible. Several minutes passed in silence, while the whole party gazed down into the depths beneath them.

  Ìf any one could see us they'd think we were crazy,' declared Biggles at last, laughing. '

  Looking for the bottom of the sea in a flying-boat. That would make a funny picture.'

  `You don't doubt that it's here?' demanded Sandy stiffly.

  `Good gracious, no,' replied Biggles promptly. 'I just struck me as funny, that's all.'

  `Hello, what was that? I think I saw something,' cried Ginger. Full Moon looked up into his face and smiled. 'Me see,' she said, and with hardly a ripple slipped into the water.

  Ginger watched spellbound as the girl lay on her face on the surface, her head below the water, scrutinizing the depths. Then, suddenly, she sank, and started swimming down with an easy breast-stroke, and a barely perceptible movement of her legs. Ginger could see her clearly, for the water was of such purity that it seemed to be neither air nor water; but he found it difficult to believe his eyes as he watched Full Moon behaving as though the water was her natural home. She went so low that her body became no more than a shadow, a disembodied wraith; occasion56

  ally a shoal of fish would pass about her. For a moment she actually disappeared from sight, and Ginger drew a deep breath of relief when he saw her coming swiftly upward. He hand broke the surface first; in it she held a huge oyster. Her head appeared, and she drew in her breath with a long whistling sound that Ginger was to come to know well. Sandy let out a yell of triumph when he saw the shell. `There you are! ' he cried. 'The bottom can't be more than twenty fathoms. I know why we can't see it. The sun is still too low. It was straight overhead when I first spotted the bed.'

  `Yes, that might account for it,' agreed Biggles.

  Full Moon tossed the shell on board, and scrambled up herself. She spoke excitedly to Sandy in Marquesan, pointing at the same time.

  `She says the bottom under us slopes like the side of a hill,' Sandy translated. He pointed towards where the girl had indicated. 'She says it's shallower over there. It must be as I thought. The place I spotted is the top of an underwater mountain. Take the machine over a bit, Biggles.'

  As requested, Biggles gave the engines a burst of power which carried the 'Scud' towards the desired locality. 'Stop her—you'll do! ' cried Sandy. 'I can see bottom. There it is. I should say it isn't more than six or seven fathoms.'

  The other, looking over the side, saw that he was right. The bottom of the sea could be seen plainly, exactly as Sandy had described it, gleaming with half-open oyster-shells. Sandy turned at once to his diving-suit and began to get into it. His face was serious. '

  Diving is a dangerous business,' he said gravely. 'Never forget that. There isn't an insurance company in the world that will insure a diver. We needn't dwell on what might happen—there are all sorts of things down there that it's best not to think about. There's only one thing I must mention. One of the worst dangers is the big clams, as big as a bath and weighing over half a ton. The trouble is, they sometimes lie wide open to feed. If a diver steps into one of those—well, he's down for good unless somebody comes down and cuts his leg off. That's why I'm glad we've got Shell-Breaker and Full Moon with us; they'll know what to do if that happens.' He

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  gave each of them a hatchet and spoke a few words in Marquesan. They both nodded. Their faces, too, were now serious.

  Algy and Ginger had already been trained in the business of fastening up the diving-suit.

  'Remember the signals,' said Sandy, as he picked up the heavy helmet. 'There's one I hope you'll never get, and that is four tugs on the line. That means pull till the rope breaks. It's the forlorn chance. It's a million to ,one against it's ever being needed, but ifyou do get it you'll know that I'm fast on the bottom, so pull—and pull till the rope breaks. But don't ever pull unless you get a signal. You heard that, Biggles?'

  `Yes, I heard you, Sandy,' replied Biggles quietly. `Good. Right-ho, screw me up,'

  continued Sandy, and the helmet sank down into its socket. Ginger and Algy screwed up the nuts, and Sandy dragged his lead-soled feet to the ladder that had been let down beside the hull. He stopped for a moment while his head remained above water, and smiled through the glass. Then he disappeared. Algy was already turning the handle of the air-pump that was part of the equipment. Ginger paid out the life-line.

  A minute later a sudden slackening of the line told him that Sandy was on the bottom, and he nodded to Shell-Breaker, who at once lowered a large wire basket for the shell, Full Moon, hatchet in hand, lay staring down into the depths. Several minutes passed; then Ginger felt a single tug on the line. 'Haul up the basket,' he told Shell-Breaker, and presently it came into view with twenty or thirty huge oysters in it. Under Biggles's direction Shell-Breaker tipped them out on the cabin floor and again lowered the basket.

  This was repeated several times, so that by the end of an hour there was a considerable pile of oysters in the cabin, spread about to balance the weight. Sandy had cleared the '

  very shallow place, and had moved a short distance away into rather deeper water, but not deep enough to inconvenience him. Occasionally he could be seen crossing a patch of light-coloured coral, or sand, Ginger was not sure which; but against the darker background it was no longer possible to see him. Comparatively speaking, the water was still shallow, which had this advantage: Sandy

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  could be brought up quickly without risk of the paralysing cramp which is the bane of diving in deep water, and involves long delays while the diver is brought up in stages so that his body may become accustomed to the change in pressure. Ginger was relieved when he got the signal that Sandy was coming up. A few minutes later his head broke the surface and he climbed laboriously into the flying-boat. , His helmet was unscrewed and removed. 'We're not doing so badly, eh?' were his first words, accompanied by a smile. 'I've come up for a wee bit of a rest.'

  `What's it like down there?' asked Ginger.

  `Pretty fair,' replied Sandy non-committally. 'There are one or two nasty precipices that it wouldn't do to fall over —just like you get on an ordinary mountain. The coral worried me a bit. It's all shapes, some of it bad—sort of craggy. I have to keep my eye on the lifeline and air-tube all the time to make sure they don't get fouled. It's surprising how the current drags them about. You'd better keep them fairly taut. It's the easiest thing in the world to get your line tangled round a lump of coral.'

  Sandy did not remove his diving-suit as he declared his intention of going down again. '

  Another spell like the last should see us with about as much shell as we can carry,' he remarked. 'Keep an
eye on the weather, Shell-Breaker. You'll know when it's likely to start blowing. We don't want to get caught in a squall.'

  Actually, there was no sign of a change in the weather. The sea remained dead calm, and after a short rest Sandy stood up and prepared to resume his task. Three-quarters of an hour passed. It seemed much longer to those waiting on the aircraft; but, as Biggles remarked, it probably seemed even longer to Sandy. However, the shells continued to come up, the 'Scud' noticeably settling deeper under their weight.

  `We've got enough,' said Biggles, at last, regarding the pile. 'I'm not sure that we haven't got too much.' `Too much?' queried Ginger.

  Ìf it started to blow we might find ourselves in a mess. I don't think we could get the machine off the water with this load, and that, to my way of thinking, is going a bit too far beyond the margin of safety. However, the weather

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  looks settled enough,' he added, glancing round the sky.

  `Sandy will be up any minute now,' said Ginger, feeling the life-line as though he were fishing, hoping to receive the expected signal.

  Several minutes passed, but there was no signal.

  Ìt's a long time since we had any shell up,' observed Ginger at last. Nobody answered. The minutes passed slowly. Biggles glanced at the watch on the instrument-board. 'He's been down over an hour,' he said, presently.

  `He seems to be moving about; 1 can feel the line twitching,' said Ginger. 'He isn't caught by one of those confounded clams, anyway, or he wouldn't be able to move.'

  Full Moon was lying on the hull, staring down into the water. She had not spoken for some time. Suddenly she drew the knife which she carried inside her pareu, and putting it between her teeth, slipped over the side. Her head dipped downwards, and she began to swim.

  Ginger looked at Biggles.

  Biggles shrugged his shoulders. 'I suppose she knows what she's doing,' he said.

  `By gosh! she's coming back in a hurry,' said Ginger, sharply. Full Moon literally flung herself out of the water on to the flying-boat. Feke! she cried shrilly. 'Big feke!'