Biggles In The Jungle Part 7

Biggles went forward, and a moment later stood looking down at the dead body of a native; he wore blue dungaree trousers, and was clearly one of the more or less civilised natives of the coast. Biggles was still staring at the ugly scene, wondering what it portended, when a groan made him start, and a brief search revealed another native near the edge of the water. This one was not dead, but was obviously dying. Biggles knelt beside him and discovered a gunshot wound in his chest.

Ask him who he is,' he told Dusky.

Dusky knelt beside the wounded man and spoke quickly in a language the others did not understand. The stranger answered weakly, and thereafter followed a disjointed conversation which went on for some minutes-in fact, until the wounded man expired.

Dusky stood up and turned a startled face to his companions. 'Dese men bring de petrol in one big canoe,' he announced. 'Dey get as far as dis and make camp; den Bogat's men come and dey all killed.'

'But where is the canoe, and the petrol?' asked Biggles in a tense voice.

Dusky pointed to the river, not far from the bank. 'De canoe sink dere,' he said. 'When Bogat's men rush de camp de paddlers try to get away, but bullets. .h.i.t canoe and it sink.'

'When did this happen?'

'Last night, ma.s.sa.'

Biggles turned to Algy and shrugged his shoulders helplessly. 'This is bad,' he said quietly. 'The petrol was our only chance of getting away.'

'But how on earth did the Tiger know that petrol was coming up the river?' demanded Algy.

Biggles laughed bitterly. 'Have you forgotten Chorro, Carruthers' a.s.sistant? He'd know all about it. As soon as Carruthers got back and ordered the petrol to be brought up to us, Chorro would naturally send the Tiger a message by pigeon post.'

Algy nodded. 'Of course; that explains it; I'd forgotten that skunk Chorro.'

It looks as if we've only one chance,' went on Biggles. 'If the water isn't deep we might be able to save some of the petrol cans. Some would probably be punctured by bullets, but not all; if we can recover enough juice to get back to the coast, that's all that matters.'

He turned to Dusky. 'How far out was the canoe when it was sunk?'

Dusky picked up a piece of rotton wood and tossed it on the water about twenty yards from the bank.

Biggles started removing his clothes. 'I'll take a dive and try to locate it,' he said.

Dusky shook his head vigorously. 'Not yet,' he protested. 'Maybe alligator, maybe piranhas.'

'Piranhas?' queried Algy.

'Man-eating fish,' explained Biggles. 'They're not very big, but they're 'the most voracious creatures in the world. They swim about in shoals. They've been known to make a skeleton of a man in five minutes.'

'Charming little creatures,' sneered Algy. 'What are we going to do about it?'

Biggles thought for a moment. 'We can't get the machine down here, so we'd better make a raft, and work from that. We might be able to locate the canoe by dragging the bottom with our anchor. What do you think, Dusky?'

'Yes, make raft,' agreed the old man.

'Then let's go back to the machine and get some tools,' suggested Biggles. It shouldn't be a big job.'

'Suppose Bogat's crowd is still hanging about?'

I hadn't overlooked that possibility,' replied Biggles. 'We shall have to risk it. Come on, let's get back to the machine.'

They went back up the stream, and were relieved to find everything as they had left it. Ginger had just finished repairing the tank with a piece of sheet metal. They told him of their discovery and what they proposed to do, and in a few minutes the necessary equipment for making a raft had been brought ash.o.r.e-as well as weapons.

'I don't like the idea of leaving the machine,' muttered Algy.

'Nor do I, but we can't help it,' returned Biggles. awe work fast we ought to get the raft finished by nightfall, ready to start diving operations tomorrow as soon as 'it gets light.

Let's go.'

They marched back to the site of the burnt-out camp, and after burying the unfortunate natives, set about collecting timber suitable for their purpose, in which respect they were guided by Dusky, who knew which wood was light and easy to handle. Some, although Ginger could hardly believe this until he had proved it, was so hard that it turned the edge of an axe.

The sun was sinking in the west by the time the task was finished, and a rough but serviceable raft, moored to a tree, floated against the bank, ready for the morning.

Biggles decided that it was too late to start diving operations that day, so picking up the tools, they made their way back towards the Wanderer.

They had not gone very far when, with squeals and grunts, a party of small, hairy pigs came tearing madly down the riverbank. Ginger's first impression was that the animals intended to attack them, but the peccaries-for as such Dusky identified them-rushed past with scarcely a glance. Nevertheless Dusky eyed them apprehensively, and as they disappeared down the river he held up his hand for silence, at the same time adopting a listening att.i.tude.

In the sultry silence Ginger was aware of vague rustlings in the undergrowth around them, and, exploring with his eyes, soon located the cause. Small creatures, the presence of which had been unsuspected, were leaving their nests in the rotting vegetation and climbing rapidly up the trunks of the trees. He saw a white bloated centipede, a foot long, its numerous ribs rippling horribly under its loathsome skin, a tarantula, a hairy spider as big as his hand, went 'up a nearby tree in a series of rushes, seeming to watch the men suspiciously every time it halted. This sinister activity gave Ginger an unpleasant feeling of alarm, but he said nothing. He was looking at Dusky askance when, from a distance, came a curious sound, a murmur, like the movement of wind-blown leaves in autumn.

Dusky muttered something and hurried forward, and there was a nervousness in his manner that confirmed Ginger's sensation of impending danger.

'What is it?' he asked anxiously.

'De ants are coming,' answered Dusky.

At the same time he broke into a run, and it was with relief that Ginger saw the Wanderer just ahead of them, for by this time the clamour around them had increased alarmingly.

Insects and reptiles of many sorts were climbing trees or plunging through the undergrowth; monkeys howled as they swung themselves from branch to branch; birds screeched as they flew overhead. It was an unnecessary commotion about a few ants-or so it seemed to Ginger; but then he had not seen the ants.

It was not until they were within fifty yards of the machine that he saw them, and even then it was a little while before he realised that the wide black column which rolled like molten tar towards them just above the place where the machine was moored was, in fact, a ma.s.s of ants. Some, in the manner of an advance guard, were well out in front, and he saw that they were fully an inch and a half long. Nothing stopped the advance of the insects as they ran forward, surmounting with frantic speed every obstacle that lay across their path. The noise made by the main body, the movement of countless millions of tiny legs over the vegetation, was a harsh, terrifying hiss, that induced in Ginger a feeling of utter helplessness. This, he thought, was an enemy against which nothing could avail.

There was a wild rush for the Wanderer, and they reached it perhaps ten yards ahead of the insect army. Ginger gave an involuntary cry as a stinging pain, like a red-hot needle, shot into his leg; but he did not stop-he was much too frightened. He literally fell into the machine.

Biggles was the last to come aboard. The mooring-rope was already black with ants, so he cut it, allowing it to fall into the water. The machine at once began to drift with the current, so he ran forward, and dropping the anchor, managed to get it fast in weeds, or mud. At any rate, further progress was checked, for the current near the sh.o.r.e was not strong.

Ginger pulled up the leg of his trousers and saw a scarlet patch of inflammation where the ant had bitten him.

'Get some iodine on that,' Biggles told him crisply, and he lost no time in complying, for the pain was acute.

Having done so he joined the others on the deck, from where, in silence and in safety, they watched the incredible procession on the bank. Ginger could not have imagined such a spectacle. The ground was black. Every leaf, every twig, was in motion, as if a sticky fluid was flowing over it. It was little wonder that he stared aghast, not knowing what to say.

I've seen armies of foraging ants before, but never anything like this,' remarked Biggles.

'They clean up everything as they go. Heaven help the creature, man, beast or insect, that falls in their path.'

'How far do they stretch?' asked Ginger, for as yet he could not see the end of the procession.

Biggles asked Dusky, who announced that the column might extend for a mile, perhaps farther. He had seen the same thing many times, and a.s.sured them that if the ants were unmolested they would soon pa.s.s on.

The comrades sat on the deck and watched until it was dark, but it was some time later before the volume of sound began to diminish. They then retired to the cabin, where Biggles switched on a light and produced some tins of food.

'We may as well eat, and then get some sleep,' he suggested. 'We've got to make an early start tomorrow.'

Ginger went to sleep, to dream of ants. The forest had taken on a new horror.

o SWIFT DEVELOPMENTS.

GINGER was awakened in the morning by a wild shout from Biggles, a shout that brought him, still half dazed with sleep, to the deck. It was just beginning to get light, and it did not take him long to see what was amiss. The water, which normally was black, was now streaked with yellow, and was swirling past at a speed sufficient to cause the Wanderer to drag her anchor. There was, as far as he could see, no reason for this, and he said so.

It must be raining higher up the river,' declared Biggles. 'The water is rising fast. We shall have to tie up to the bank-the anchor won't hold.'

By this time they were all on deck, and between them the machine was soon made fast to a tree-stump. Biggles stared for A minute at the sky, and then at the river.

'We've no time to lose ifwe're going to get that petrol,' he said urgently. 'Apart from the current, with all this mud coming down we soon shan't be able to see a thing under the water. Algy, you stay here and look after things. Ginger, Dusky come with me.' So saying, Biggles picked ill) a length of line, jumped ash.o.r.e, and set off down the riverbank at a run, Ginger and Dusky following behind. Ginger noted that there was little, if anything, to mark the pa.s.sage of the ants.

It did not take them long to reach the raft, where the water was only just becoming discoloured. Biggles carried a large piece of loose rock on board, and pushed off; then using the rock as an anchor, he brought the raft to a stop over the spot where the canoe had sunk-or as near to it as he.could judge. Throwing off his jacket, and holding a spare piece of line, he prepared to dive.

'Here! What about the alligators?' cried Ginger in alarm.

I shall have to risk it,' answered Biggles curtly. 'We've got to get some petrol, or, we're sunk. Dusky, you keep your eyes open for danger.' With this Biggles disappeared under the' water.

He had to make three dives before he located the sunken canoe. After this there was a short delay while the raft was moored directly over it. Then the work was fairly straightforward, and had it not been for the rising water, and the discoloration, it would probably have been possible to salve every petrol-can, for Biggles had only to tie the line to a handle while the others hauled it up. As it was, by the time seven cans had been recovered the river was in full spate, and the raft straining at its moorings in a manner which told them that their position was already perilous. With some difficulty they got the raft, with its precious load, to the bank, after which began the work of transporting the cans to the aircraft. By the time this was done the river was a swirling flood, bringing down with it debris of all sorts.

It's getting worse,' announced Algy, with a worried frown, as they poured the petrol into the tank. 'We shall never hold the machine here in this, and if she gets into the rapids she'

s a gonne r. '

'We'll go down the river to the coast and report to Carruthers,' declared Biggles. 'It's no use going on with our job while that rat Chorro is at large, advising the Tiger of all our movements. We've got just about enough petrol to do it. Get those empty cans ash.o.r.e, and stand by to cast off.' So saying, Biggles went through to the c.o.c.kpit.

Algy went forward to cast off the mooring-rope, but seeing that he was having difficulty with it, for the Wanderer was pulling hard, Ginger went to his help. At the same time Dusky started throwing the empty cans on the bank. In view of what happened, these details are important. Actually, just what did happen, or how it happened, none of them knew-beyond the fact that the line suddenly snapped. Ginger made a despairing grab at it, slipped, clutched at Algy, and dragged him overboard with him. The Wanderer, breaking free, bucked, and Dusky, caught in the act of throwing, also went overboard.

All three managed to reach the bank, while the Wanderer went careering downstream.

From the bank, Algy, Ginger and Dusky stared at it with horror-stricken eyes, too stunned to speak, helpless to do anything.

Ginger felt certain that the machine would be wrecked in the rapids. Not for a moment did he doubt it. And it was not until he heard the Wanderer's engines come to life that he realised that Biggles still had a chance. He could no longer see the machine, for overhanging trees, and a bend in the river, hid it from view. But when, presently, the aircraft appeared in the air above them, and he knew that Biggles had succeeded in getting off, he sat down limply, weak from shock.

Algy looked at the machine, and then at the river. 'He'll never dare to land again,' he announced.

'He'd be a fool to try,' declared Ginger: 'At least, not until the flood had subsided,' he added.

They watched the Wanderer circle twice; then, as it pa.s.sed low over them, something white fluttered down, and they made haste to collect it. It was an empty tin; in it was a slip of paper on which Biggles had written, 'Wait. Going to coast.'

'That's the wisest thing he could do-go down and fill the tank, and let Carruthers know about Chorro,' remarked Ginger. 'We shan't take any harm here for a few hours.'

I hope you realise that we've no food, and that we haven't a weapon between us except Dusky's knife,' muttered Algy.

In that case we shall have to manage without,' returned Ginger.

'Food-me find,' put in Dusky confidently, indicating the forest with a sweep of his arm.

'You mean you can find food in the forest?' asked Algy hopefully.

'Sure, boss, I find.'

'What sort of food?'

'Honey-roots--fruit, maybe.'

'Good. In that case we might as well start looking for lunch.' 'You stay-I find,'

answered Dusky. 'Plenty fever in forest. I go now.'

All right, if that's how you want it,' agreed Algy. Dusky disappeared into the gloomy aisles of the jungle.

For some time Algy and Ginger sat on a log gazing moodily at the broad surface of the river. There was little else they could do, for they dare not risk leaving the spot, in case Dusky should return and wonder what had become of them. It did not occur to either of them that they were in any danger. Perhaps they felt that in such a case Dusky would have warned them, although later they agreed that they were both to blame for what happened-but then it was too late.

They did not even see where the natives came from. There was a sudden rush, and before they realised what was happening they were both on their backs, held down by a score or more of savage-looking Indians armed with spears and clubs, bows and arrows. It all happened in a moment of time. Still dazed by the suddenness of the attack they were dragged to their feet and marched away into the forest, menaced fiercely by the spears of their captors. They could do nothing but submit.

In this manner they covered some five miles, as near as they could judge, straight into the heart of the forest before the party halted in an open s.p.a.ce on the bank of a narrow stream on which several canoes floated. A few primitive huts comprised the native village. Into one of these they were thrown, and a sentry was placed on guard at the entrance.

Inside, the light was so dim that they could see nothing distinctly, and Ginger was about to throw himself down to rest, for the long march through the oven-like atmosphere had reduced him to a state of exhaustion, when, to his utter amazement, a voice addressed him in English.

'Say, who are you?' inquired the voice, with a strong American drawl.

'Who on earth areyou?' gasped Ginger when he had recovered sufficiently from his surprise to speak.

Eddie Rockwell's the name,' came the reply.

'What the d.i.c.kens are you doing here?' demanded Algy. 'Guess that's what I should ask you.'

Algy thought for a moment or two. 'We're explorers,' he announced, somewhat vaguely. '

We've got a plane, but our chief has gone to the coast for petrol. While he was away this mob set on us and brought us here. That's all. What about you?'

'My tale is as near yours as makes no difference,' answered Eddie quietly.

As their eyes became accustomed to the gloom the comrades saw that he was a young man in the early twenties, but in a sad state of emaciation. His clothes were filthy, and hung on him in rags.

'Having more money than sense, I was fool enough to allow myself to be persuaded to start on a treasure-hunt,' continued Eddie. 'My father told me that the whole thing was a racket, and I reckon he was about right-but of course I wouldn't believe it.

A treasure-hunt?' queried Ginger.

I saw an advertis.e.m.e.nt in a paper that a couple of guys knew where a treasure was waiting to be picked up. The map they had looked genuine enough, and I fell for it. I financed the expedition, and everything was swell until we got here. Then my two crooked partners just beat it with the stores and left me stranded. If you've tried getting about in this cursed jungle, you'll know what I was up against. However, I did what I could. I blundered about till I struck a stream, and then started down it, figuring that sooner or later, if I could hold out, I'd come to the sea. Instead, I b.u.mped into a bunch of Indians and they brought me here. I didn't care much, because I was pretty well all in. I'd been staggering about without grub for a fortnight, and the Indians did at least give me something to eat. They brought me here, and here I've been ever since. That's all there is to it.'

An idea struck Ginger. He realised that these must be the three Americans about whom Carruthers was so concerned. 'You've been here for some time, haven't you?' he asked.

'Sure.'

'How long?'