Part 19 (1/2)

Chapter 18.

How the Rendezvous Was Kept Nothing of interest occurred during the short swim, which was carried out with greater regard for quiet than for speed. Biggles and Ginger breasted the water together, leaving an ever-widening V to mark their pa.s.sage across the tranquil face of the harbour.

A silvery flush spreading upwards from beyond the distant Italian alps proclaiming the approach of the moon; reflected in the water, it caressed the ripples as they receded diagonal y on either hand to lap at last against the quay.

Reaching their objective, they pul ed themselves up on the rusty buoy to rest for a moment to listen, and wring the brine from their hair and eyes. Then Biggles grasped the mooring rope, and bracing himself, drew the big aircraft gently towards him. The rope coming within his reach, Ginger also pul ed, hand over hand, until the cabin was level with the buoy.

'That's it, hold her,' breathed Biggles, and reached for the door.

As he did so a medley of sounds occurred on the sh.o.r.e. They began with a shout, which was fol owed by a number of short blasts on a whistle. Footsteps could be heard, running. Someone rapped out orders in brittle Italian.

Ginger looked with askance at Biggles. He could think of only one reason for the alarm-that they had been seen. 'They've spotted us,' he said in a low voice.

Biggles looked around and then focussed his attention on the customs-house, where a number of men could be seen a.s.sembling as if for a parade.

Lights appeared, both moving and stationary.

'No, it isn't us,' he said. 'Those fel ows are not carrying rifles. It must be some sort of guard turn-out.

Listen.'

Someone appeared to be shouting names. An order was given. The party turned to the right.

Another order, and the men began marching along the Quai de Plaisance. By this time sounds of activity could also be heard on the Quai de Commerce opposite.

'I don't get it,' muttered Ginger. 'What is there on the Quai de Commerce?'

'Coal bunkers and gas-works mostly. It's the commercial side of the port. I don't know what's going on, but I don't think it has anything to do with us. Let's keep going. Give me your torch.'

Biggles opened the door of the aircraft and stepped inside. He switched on the torch, and deflecting the beam downwards, started to make a survey of the cabin. The light moved only a short way, then stopped.

Ginger, entering the aircraft behind Biggles, saw a sight both unexpected and disconcerting. Using an Italian Air Force tunic as a pil ow, on a bunk lay a man, dressed in trousers and a s.h.i.+rt. He was awake.

He had half raised himself on his elbow and was blinking into the glare. He had obviously been sleeping; awakened by the door being opened, he looked dazed at what must have seemed a strange intrusion. Suddenly he appeared to realize that he was in danger, for, letting out a yel , he started to get off the bunk.

Two swift strides took Biggles to him, gun in hand, whereupon the man, evidently a member of the crew, sat down again, stiff with fright.

Biggles tried him first in French, then in English, but the man apparently knew neither language. With a ghost of a smile he murmured to Ginger, 'Snag number one.'

'What are you going to do with him?'

'You keep an eye on him while I have a look at the c.o.c.kpit,' answered Biggles. 'I shan't be a minute.'

He went forward.

Ginger made signs to the Italian, by tapping his gun, that he would be wise to remain quiet. He could hear someone shouting, but who it was and what it was about he did not know.

Presently Biggles came back. 'I think everything's al right,' he said. 'We'd better get rid of this chap- we don't want any more pa.s.sengers.' He looked at the Italian and indicated the door.

The man needed no second invitation. He was out like a shot, making for the sh.o.r.e at a fast overarm stroke. Biggles cut the cable. As he came back into the cabin and closed the door a searchlight was switched on. The beam did not fal on the aircraft, but swept across the water near the harbour mouth.

'It was that fel ow shouting that did it,' muttered Ginger savagely.

'Possibly,' answered Biggles calmly. 'Come on, let's get away.' They went through to the c.o.c.kpit and took their places.

When the twin engines came to life the noise, after the silence, was shattering. Biggles sat with one hand on the master throttle and the other on the control column, giving the motors a chance to warm up, until the searchlight swept back and came to rest on the machine, flooding it with radiance. Looking out of a side window, just beyond the beam, Ginger could see people running about on the quay.

'I think it's time we were moving,' he remarked.

'Our engines have sort of stirred things up.'

'I rather expected they would,' replied Biggles, smiling. 'Stil , I don't think they dare to do much shooting here for fear of hitting the other machines.

Al the same, we'd better be getting along.'

He eased the throttle open. His face was expressionless as his eyes focused on the narrow harbour entrance beyond which lay the open sea.

The flying-boat began to surge forward, increasing its speed as he advanced the throttle. Fifty yards from the harbour entrance it was skimming the water, flinging clouds of spray on either side.

water, flinging clouds of spray on either side.

'We've done it!' shouted Ginger triumphantly.

Biggles did not answer. His body suddenly went rigid. With a quick movement he leaned forward to bring his face nearer to the windscreen.

Dazzled by the light, which was playing on the side of the machine, for a moment Ginger could see nothing; then he made out a black bulk, seeming to fil the opening through which they must pa.s.s. He realized at once what it was. High masts left him in no doubt. A vessel of some sort was coming in.

Instantly he understood the commotion on the quay.

The s.h.i.+p had been signal ed, and arrangements were being made for its reception. From their low position they had been unable to see it. He went cold with shock. In the tricky light he found it impossible to tel just how far away the s.h.i.+p actual y was, but it looked horribly close.

Biggles thrust the throttle wide open. The engines bel owed. Spray flew. The hul quivered. The aircraft tore on to what seemed certain destruction. Ginger sat stil , petrified. There was nothing he could do. He stared at the black silhouette as though it had mesmerized him.

'Unexpected snag number two,' said Biggles, through set teeth.

Now it had seemed to Ginger, when he first saw the vessel, that it was actual y coming into the harbour, but as the aircraft raced on he perceived that this was not the case. It was close, but, natural y, so near the harbour, it was travel ing dead slow. The impression that it was travel ing fast was created by the high speed of the aircraft, and as it turned out, the destroyer-as the vessel now revealed itself to be-was stil a cable's length*1 from the entrance.

Biggles could not turn, of course, until he was out of the harbour, otherwise he must have col ided with the sea wal . Neither could he take off, for the machine, running on a flat surface without a wave to give it a 'kick' into the air, was only just beginning to lift. He might have cut the throttle, in which case the machine would have slowed up, so that the force of impact, when the col ision occurred, would have been trivial. But that would have ended any chance of escape. So he raced on, stil on ful throttle, and as he shot through the harbour mouth he kicked on ful right rudder. There was nothing else for it, for by this time the black hul was towering above them. Even time the black hul was towering above them. Even so, it was a desperate expedient. The aircraft yawed so violently that Ginger clutched at the side, thinking they were going right over. The port wing came down on the water with a smack, flinging up a cloud of spray that blotted everything from sight. He braced himself for the shock of col ision which he stil thought was unavoidable. Instead, the aircraft righted itself; the spray disappeared aft, and the machine, on a new course, shot past the destroyer with a few feet to spare.

He had another shock when he saw that there were three s.h.i.+ps-two destroyers, and what he took to be a tanker. The fact that they were in line ahead had prevented the two rear vessels from being seen.

For the same reason there was no risk of col ision with them, for the aircraft was now travel ing diagonal y away from them. Ginger let out his pent-up breath with a gasp, but stil he did not speak. A sidelong glance revealed Biggles stil sitting as though nothing untoward had happened.

But the incident was not yet over. From the leading destroyer a searchlight stabbed the night. It found them at once. The sh.o.r.e searchlight joined in, and the aircraft, and the water round it, were transformed to polished silver. A moment later al vibration ceased, and Ginger knew they were airborne.