Part 19 (2/2)

As the Savoia started to climb more searchlights thrust long white fingers into the starlit sky. Lines of tracer bul ets*2 glittered in the beams. Bursting shel s began to tear the sky with flame. Biggles pushed the control column forward for speed, and then zoomed high, leaving the searchlights below him. For a few minutes he flew on, turning first one way then another to mislead the gunners. Then, suddenly, he laughed aloud.

'By gos.h.!.+ I thought we were into that leading destroyer. We can't grumble, but it was foul luck. It shows how the best scheme can come unstuck- one can't make al owances for that sort of thing. Just imagine it. I don't think there has been a s.h.i.+p in that harbour for days, yet those blighters had to come in at the very moment we chose to go out. Had they been one minute earlier, or we a minute later, there would have been an almighty splash.'

'You're tel ing me,' muttered Ginger.

Biggles chuckled. 'I'l bet that skipper's using some language.'

some language.'

'He was probably struck dumb, like I was,' growled Ginger. 'By the way, where are we going?'

'I'm trying to lead those sharpshooters to believe that we're heading out to sea,' returned Biggles. 'I daren't turn too soon or they'd know we were coming back. I think it's al right now.'

He turned in a wide half circle. The roar of the motors faded, and the flying boat settled down in a steady glide towards the nearest point of land-the tip of Cap Martin, now visible in the light of the moon some miles to the north. Ginger did not fail to notice the wisdom of Biggles's choice in the matter of time.

They had worked under cover of darkness when they most needed it; now they had the light of the moon to enable them to pick up Francois' boat.

'Have you noticed the petrol gauges?' inquired Biggles.

Ginger admitted that he had not.

'Take a look.'

Not knowing quite what Biggles meant, but aware that there must be a reason for the remark, Ginger looked at the instrument panel. Then he understood.

The tanks were less than quarter ful .

'What a mob,' he muttered, in a voice heavy with disgust. 'Fancy being in port al that time and not fil ing up.'

'Perhaps they couldn't,' replied Biggles drily.

'Maybe it was because they were short of juice that they put in at Monaco. Since the machines were due to leave in the morning, obviously they were expecting to refuel before then. If that were so it would answer several questions. That was a tanker just gone in. I'd say that's what they were waiting for -hence the activity on the Quai de Commerce. It didn't occur to me to look to see if anything was coming, but the Italians were evidently expecting the s.h.i.+ps. Not that it matters now. Can you see the boat?'

Away to the left searchlights were stil quartering the sky, seeking the aircraft, but Ginger wasted no time on them. Concentrating his attention on the sea off Cap Martin he made out a smal black speck.

'There she is!' he cried. 'They've made it.'

Biggles did not answer, but devoted himself to the difficult task of putting the flying-boat on the water in moonlight made deceptive by the waving arms of searchlights. Ginger said no more, knowing that it was no time for talking. He sat quite stil , his eyes on the little boat that grew steadily larger and more definite in outline. Occasional y the water reflected a distant burst of flak, and he wondered vaguely what the Italians were shooting at. He had a curious sensation that this was not real y happening-that he was watching a film.

They were now low enough for the s.h.i.+mmer on the water to break up into isolated ripples, and the conical hil s behind Cap Martin rose ever higher as the flying-boat continued to lose height. As it neared the sea its nose lifted a little, and then, as Biggles flattened out, Francois' boat was hidden behind the sweeping bows. There came a splash. Spray flew.

Another splash that was drawn out into a long hiss.

Powerful brakes seemed to hold the Savoia back.

Rocking a little it came to rest.

'Get the door open,' ordered Biggles crisply. 'Ask Algy for my uniform-I'm none too warm.'

Ginger opened the door. A searchlight was groping dangerously close, and in the reflection of its light he saw the Bluebird Bluebird skimming over the dancing ripples towards the machine, leaving a creamy wake to mark its course and reveal that it was running under power. It was about a hundred yards away. skimming over the dancing ripples towards the machine, leaving a creamy wake to mark its course and reveal that it was running under power. It was about a hundred yards away.

Ginger waited, keeping an anxious eye on the questing beams, some of which were now raking the water. He supposed that the machine had been picked up by the sound-detectors-or it might have been the throb of the Bluebird Bluebird's powerful engine.

The motor-boat surged alongside.

'Nice work,' cal ed Algy.

'Nice work yourself,' answered Ginger. 'Make it snappy-we've sort of stirred up things where we've come from. If one of those beams. .h.i.ts us the Italians wil start throwing things.'

Chapter 19.

Farewell To France As if to confirm Ginger's prediction a deflected beam swept over them, halted, came back, and then held them in a flood of blinding radiance.

'Biggles wants his kit!' shouted Ginger. 'He's flying in his pants.'

'Coming up.' Algy threw a bundle aboard, and Ginger, with a shout to Biggles, tossed it into the cabin.

The pa.s.sengers fol owed. First, Henri was lifted in.

He was fol owed by his mother, sister, and the princess. Biggles, who had managed to get into his slacks, appeared, cal ing for Francois.

'If you'l take my advice, Francois,' he said, as the others came aboard, 'you'l run that boat into Mentone. Say you were lobstering when the row started and you made for land to get out of the way. If they question you you can tel them that you saw a flying-boat pick up a party of people from Cap Martin. Adieu. Adieu. I'l see that your good work is put on record.' I'l see that your good work is put on record.'

'Come back after the war!' shouted Francois. ' Au Au revoir. Au revoir revoir. Au revoir, milord, et bon voyage et bon voyage*1.' With its propel er churning, the motor-boat backed away, turned, and sped like an arrow towards the land.

As Ginger slammed the door a shel screamed overhead and flung up a plume of water a hundred yards beyond. He hurried through to the c.o.c.kpit and saw that Biggles was back in his seat. Glancing out of a side window he observed little tongues of fire spurting from the sombre ma.s.s of Mont Agel. More shel s screamed.

'Let's get out of this,' he told Biggles.

The motors roared; the aircraft raced seaward, tearing a long white scar across the face of the water.

Ginger waited for the aircraft to lift before he spoke again. 'It's annoying to be so short of juice,'

he remarked. 'Where are you making for?'

'Algeria.'

Ginger started. 'Strewth! Why Algeria?'

'Our chaps are there-or at least I hope they are.

There's nowhere else within range of our petrol. I'm by no means sure that we shal get to Algeria, if it by no means sure that we shal get to Algeria, if it comes to that. If we make it, we ought to arrive about dawn. Take over while I get into my tunic.'

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