21 Biggles In The Baltic Page 7

  With a grunt of annoyance Biggles dragged the Willie-Willie round in its own length, and tore along after the Dornier, just in time to see Algy's machine whirl into sight, and nearly meet the Dornier head on, as he had done.

  The enemy pilot—wisely, perhaps, seeing that he was outnumbered—put his nose down for speed and streaked away to the south with the two British machines in hot pursuit.

  As he roared low over the cove Biggles glanced down, and seeing no sign of Ginger's machine, wondered where it was. An instant later he knew, for it suddenly flashed into sight across the Dornier's bows. There was a streak of tracer bullets, and then the Dornier went on, apparently unaffected.

  What had happened was this. In his desperate haste to get off Ginger had not thought of asking Briny which way the Boche had gone, so instead of turning to the left like the others, he had turned to the right, and in so doing had actually done what the others had intended doing. He had found himself behind the Dornier—in fact, behind all three machines ; but as they had dived he found himself above them, and was thus able to use his superior height to gain speed and intercept the machine with the black crosses on its wings. He had managed to get in a short burst of fire at it, but his shooting had been hurried, and it was with chagrin that he saw the Dornier proceed on its way, apparently untouched by his bullets. All he could do was join in the pursuit with the others.

  Biggles had no doubts about overhauling the Dornier, for their machines were built for speed whereas the flying-boat was designed primarily for coastal reconnaissance. And since it was soon apparent that they were, in fact, catching it, he had little doubt as to the ultimate result. What upset him was the thought that at that very moment the German wireless operator might be tapping out, as fast as he could, the circumstances of the combat—with, of course, the position of the secret base.

  The German pilot did all that he could do against three opponents, as did his gunner, who, facing the pursuers, made things very uncomfortable for them. But he could not shoot in three directions at once, for Biggles and Algy were old hands at the game. At a signal from Biggles they separated to press their attack from different directions. Algy, coming within range, opened fire, drawing the gunner's fire upon himself and so giving Biggles a clear field.

  The end came suddenly. Biggles swooped like a hawk and poured in a long decisive burst. He held his fire until collision seemed inevitable and then zoomed high, turning on the top of the zoom to see the result of his attack. Not that he had much doubt as to what it would be. With eight guns pouring out bullets at a rate of a thousand rounds a minute, the Boche must have been riddled.

  His supposition was correct. The Dornier was roaring straight up like a rocketing pheasant; for perhaps two seconds it hung on the top of its stall, its airscrews whirling; then its nose whipped down in a spin from which it never recovered. Biggles watched it dispassionately, for he had seen the end of too many combats to be disturbed in his mind; and he was too wise to take his eyes off his victim in case the spin was a ruse to deceive him. That the Dornier was not shamming, however, was confirmed when, with its engine still racing, it plunged nose first into the sea. It disappeared from sight instantly and did not reappear; only an ever widening circle of oil marked the spot where it had ended its fatal dive.

  Cutting his engine, Biggles glided down, and circled for some minutes in case there should be a survivor, but it was soon clear that the crew had perished in the machine, so he turned towards the island, anxious to find out from Roy if the radio operator in the Dornier had succeeded in getting out a message.

  A glance over his shoulder revealed the others taking up formation behind him, so he went on towards the base, now about six miles distant.

  Before he was half-way there Algy had rushed up beside him, beckoning furiously and jabbing downwards with his gloved hand.

  Looking down, Biggles saw the reason. Ginger was no longer in the formation ; he was gliding down towards the sea, which could only mean one thing—that he was having trouble with his engine.

  They could not leave him, so Biggles throttled back and began circling down, at the same time throwing a worried glance at the sky, the colour of which promised a change in the weather. He watched Ginger put his machine down on the water, and from its jerky movements saw what he already suspected—that the sea was getting rough. However, he landed within hail of the Dingo. `What 's wrong ?' he called.

  Ginger stood up in his cockpit, holding the edge to steady himself, for the machine was rocking dangerously. 'My engine has cut out,' he shouted. Ìt began to splutter after they shot at me.'

  Biggles taxied closer, while Algy continued to circle low overhead.

  `What shall I do ?' asked Ginger.

  Biggles thought swiftly. To make repairs on the water was obviously out of the question.

  Had the sea been calm he would have dashed back to the base and sent the motor-boat out to tow the Dingo in, but low, ominous clouds were scudding across the sky and the sea was rising quickly. In the circumstances he decided to attempt to tow the Dingo in himself. 'Catch this line and make it fast!' he yelled, and swung his mooring-rope across the nose of the Dingo.

  Ginger caught the line and made it fast to his axle strut, and scrambled back into his seat as Biggles started taxi-ing towards the base.

  Before they had gone a quarter of a mile, however, Biggles knew that they would never reach it, for the sea, now capped with vicious-looking white crests, was throwing both machines about in a manner that was definitely dangerous. A nasty cross-wind was dragging at the Dingo, and more than once brought it up short with a jerk on the tow-line that threatened to tear both machines to pieces.

  He eased the throttle back, for the question of saving the Dingo had become of secondary importance ; it was now a matter of saving their lives, for he was by no means sure that he would be able to get the Willie-Willie off the water. 'Cut the towline!' he yelled. 'Get ready to jump. I'm coming round to pick you up.'

  Ginger obeyed the orders unquestioningly, although he realized that they implied the loss of his machine. Climbing out of his seat, he clung to a float, waiting for Biggles to bring the Willie-Willie alongside.

  It was no easy matter, for both machines were now tossing wildly, and should they be thrown together it would mean the end of them. Blipping his engine, Biggles brought the Willie-Willie nearer.

  `Jump for it as I go past,' he shouted.

  Ginger, balanced on the float, jumped for his life. But his weight, as he jumped, was sufficient

  to cause the Dingo to yaw violently, and instead of landing on Biggles's float, as he hoped, he landed short and disappeared under the water. His head broke the surface almost at once, and he clutched at the float. He managed to grasp it, and endeavoured to drag himself on it, but the weight of his thick, water-soaked clothing held him back.

  Seeing his plight, Biggles climbed out, and seizing him by the collar, gave him the assistance he needed. He then helped him into the rear scat.

  There was still one more thing to be done. He dared not leave the Dingo floating derelict on the water, for not only would it certainly lead to inquiries, but it embodied features which German designers would no doubt be pleased to possess. So as soon as he was back in his cockpit he reached for his signalling pistol, and was taking aim at the Dingo's petrol tank when Algy roared low overhead —so low that it was obvious he was trying to attract attention.

  Biggles looked up, and saw Algy's gloved hand jabbing frantically towards the south-east. So occupied had he been with his task that he had paid no attention to the horizon ; now, looking in the direction indicated, he saw a sight that brought a scowl to his face.

  Racing towards them through rain that was beginning to fall was a German destroyer.

  CHAPTER VIII

  DISCOVERIES

  IT was typical of him that he finished what he had begun. He took quick aim and sent a flare into the Dingo's petrol tank. A tongue of flame spurted out. Satisfied that the destruction of t
he machine was assured, he pushed his throttle open. Simultaneously a spout of water leapt into the air about fifty yards in front. He had heard the scream of a shell, so he was in no doubt as to what it was. The destroyer, seeing that they were about to escape, had opened fire.

  Straight along a trough in the sea roared the Willie-Willie, flinging spray high into the air, with spouts of water rising behind it as the German gunners tried in vain to hit the small, fast-moving target. A giant wave loomed up in front, its crest curling ominously, and it was in sheer desperation that Biggles dragged the joystick back, for he knew that the Willie-Willie could not meet such a sea head-on, and survive. Its floats left the water, and then sank down again as if loath to leave it; they cut through the foaming wave-crest; the machine shuddered and Biggles thought the end had come. An inch lower, and the Willie-Willie must have been dragged down, but as it was the crest thrust the machine upward. For a few seconds it hung

  perilously near a stall ; then the racing propeller lifted the nose and it staggered into the air.

  Gasping his relief, Biggles looked for Algy, and saw him about a thousand feet above, firing long-range shots at the destroyer—not, of course, with any hope of causing damage, but to irritate the gunners and perhaps spoil their aim. Seeing that Biggles was safely off the water, he desisted, and roared down alongside the Willie-Willie.

  Biggles, after a last regretful glance at the

  destroyer—regretful because he had neither bomb

  nor torpedo with which to attack it—beckoned to

  Algy and turned his nose to the west with the idea of leading the captain of the enemy ship to think

  that they were on their way to England. For one

  thing was certain: under the eyes that he knew

  would be watching them he dare not return to the

  base. In any case, with the sea that was by this

  time running, he doubted if a landing in the cove

  was possible. So through a mist of driving rain

  the two machines roared on into the western sky.

  Not until he was satisfied that they were out of

  earshot of the destroyer did Biggles begin turning in a wide curve, for it was not his intention to get a great distance away from the base ; indeed, as he had only about an hour's petrol left in his tanks

  he dare not go far. He was, in fact, in a quandary, and his problem was this. If the rough sea per

  and they returned to the base, it was likely'

  evidently in Germany. The only word I knew was verboten, but I made a note of the rest.'

  He recited the words.

  `That simply means "landing forbidden—anyone trespassing will get it in the neck"—or words to that effect.'

  `Why should people be forbidden to land on a place like this ? Who would want to land, anyway ?'

  Ìt's no use asking me,' returned Biggles briefly. `Wait a minute though,' he added. 'There must be something here people are not allowed to see, and if that is so we ought to find out what it is—although goodness knows what it can be.'

  They watched the liner disappear into the mist and then returned to the machines.

  Algy greeted them impatiently. 'I reckon we could get off now,' he said, jerking his thumb in the direction of the sky. 'It has started to get dark, so if we hang about much longer we shall have to stay all night.'

  `Yes, we'll go,' agreed Biggles. 'All the same, there's something queer about this place, so I think we ought to come back later on—probably to-morrow—and give it the once-over.

  Just a minute.' He climbed into the cockpit of the Willie-Willie and took his map from its pocket. Opening it fiat on the ground, he studied it closely. 'This must be where we are,'

  he announced, pointing to

  the coast of East Prussia. 'This island here must be the island we're on—here's the strait—see ? That gives us a line to Bergen Mt. Come on, let 's get home.'

  In a few minutes both machines were in the air, racing low over the uneasy water on a northwesterly course. The weather was still thick, but the clouds had lifted somewhat and were broken in many places, a condition which suited Biggles well, for although he flew through the open spaces, he kept close to the clouds, prepared to take cover in them should danger threaten.

  However, they saw no craft of any sort, either in the air or on the sea, and twenty minutes' flying on full throttle brought them to within sight of their rocky home. The sea, while by no means as tranquil as they would have wished, had gone down considerably, and landing in the cove presented no great difficulty or danger.

  Not a little satisfied at their safe return, Biggles taxied into the cave, calling loudly for Briny. Instead, the Flight-Sergeant answered his hail. `Where 's Briny ?' asked Biggles.

  `He 's gone, sir,' answered Flight-Sergeant Smyth.

  `Gone ? What do you mean—gone ?'

  `We thought you were down on the water somewhere. I told him you hadn't enough petrol to remain up all this time, so he took the launch and went to see if he could find you. I stood by here in case you returned.'

  Biggles regarded the Flight-Sergeant seriously. `Then heaven only knows what 's happened to him,' he muttered. 'What time did he start ?'

  Ìt'd be just before lunch-time, sir.'

  Biggles made a despairing gesture. 'Then he must have run out of petrol by this time. I expect he found the sea got too rough for him and had to run before the wind. Well, we can't do anything about it now,' he added after a glance at the mouth of the cave. 'It 's nearly dark. We'll look for him in the morning—that is, if he doesn't come back during the night. You'd better look over these machines. We've lost the Dingo. By the way, before we left I told Roy to send a signal that we had got hold of the German naval code.

  Do you know if he sent it ?'

  `Yes, sir. The message was acknowledged.'

  `Good.' Biggles turned to Ginger. 'You go and get some dry clothes on,' he ordered, 'then join us in the mess. It 's about time we had something to eat.'

  CHAPTER IX

  WHAT HAPPENED TO ALGY

  WHEN at daybreak the following morning Biggles was informed that Briny had not returned he made immediate arrangements for a search. Ìt's a nuisance because there are other things we should be doing,' he told Algy, for Ginger, tired out, had not awakened. '

  We ought to explore that Sandbank to see what the notice is about,' he continued. 'And there is a chance that we might overtake the Leipzig and plunk a mouldy in her ribs.

  Further, I don't like this flying about in daylight; we are bound to be spotted sooner or later if we go on like this ; the original idea was that we should only fly at night.

  However, while there's still a chance that Briny is drifting about in the boat we can't do other than try to find him. There 's no need to wake Ginger. He can do with a rest. Two machines will be enough, anyway ; there should always be one in reserve. I'll leave orders that Ginger is to stay where he is until we return.'

  `We'd better go in different directions,' suggested Algy.

  `More or less,' agreed Biggles. 'The gale came down from the north so the boat should be somewhere south of here. I'll cover the south-west.

  You take the south-east.' So that there could be no mistake, he marked the two sections lightly on his map with a pencil. 'If we find the boat, and it isn't too far away, we might try to tow it back—providing, of course, that the water is calm. Otherwise we shall just have to pick Briny up and abandon the boat. Come on, let's get off. I'm glad the weather is better, but it's getting late in the year and I wouldn't trust it too far. By the way, I've got Roy on decoding all the Boche messages that he has picked up ; they may reveal something that needs our urgent attention so we'd better not be too long away.'

  In a few minutes both machines—the Willie-Willie and the Didgeree-du—were in the air, heading away from the base on their respective courses. The sky was clear except for wind-torn streaks of cirrus cloud at a great altitude, but it was not long before the machines were out of
sight of each other.

  Algy, as arranged, continued to fly south-east, and, having climbed to 5,000 feet, settled down to study the surface of the ocean, which stretched away to the horizon, unbroken as far as he could see by a vessel of any sort.

  For twenty minutes he cruised on, and then began turning in ever-widening circles, but no sign of the missing boat could he see. Far to the southward a dark grey line marked the position of

  the enemy coast, and for some time he kept away from it, for he was anxious to avoid being seen from the shore. But presently some floating wreckage attracted his attention, and in order to investigate it he had to approach nearer to the coast. He soon ascertained that the wreckage was not that of the motor-boat, and he was about to turn back towards the open sea when he perceived —what he had already suspected—that the land to the south was not the mainland, but the desolate sandbank on which they had landed the previous day.

  Thinking the matter over, it struck him that it was by no means unlikely that Briny had been driven on to it, for the weather had come from the north, and as he knew from their visit that the sandbank was uninhabited, there seemed to be little or no danger in examining it more closely. With this object in view he began edging cautiously towards it, keeping as far out to sea as would permit a survey of the sandy beach.

  He had followed it for perhaps three miles, and could see in the distance the bay in which they had landed, when a dark-coloured speck that could only be a human being detached itself from the dunes and ran down to the water's edge.

  Algy could only fly nearer, for, from where he was, recognition was out of the question, but he felt that it was extremely unlikely that an enemy coast-guard would expose himself in such a way, or behave in such a manner, for the figure was now gesticulating in a way that could only mean one thing. So he cut his engine and began to glide down; not with the intention of landing immediately, but in order to satisfy himself that the figure was actually that of the missing sailor. He felt pretty certain that it was, for he could not imagine who else it could be, but a doubt still lingered in his mind because there was no sign of the motor-boat.