Part 13 (1/2)

'What are you going to do with that wire?'

'I'll show you. What I want you to do now is lie here, just inside the door, and groan.

When the sentry comes in he's bound to look at you-enough light will come in from the corridor for him to see you. I shall then proceed to throttle him with the noose I'm making in this flex. All right, go ahead with the groaning; I'm all ready, and we've no time to waste.'

Algy did as he was told, and his groans echoed pitifully in the little cabin. Biggles waited until he heard the sentry's footsteps approaching and then hammered on the door.

The sentry stopped. 'What is it?' he demanded.

'My friend is ill-I think he's dying,' answered Biggles, and Algy's groans seemed to confirm his statement.

A key sc.r.a.ped in the lock and the German looked in, bayonet at the ready. It was obvious from his att.i.tude that he was taking no risks. 'What's happened to the light?' he asked, glancing up.

It went out,' replied Biggles vaguely.

The sentry looked at Biggles, who was standing in a pa.s.sive, dejected att.i.tude, and then took a pace nearer to Algy, who was curled up on the floor, still groaning. He leaned towards him. 'What's the matter with you?' he asked gruffly.

Biggles jumped like a cat, slipped the noose over the man's head, and in a single jerk pulled it taut round his bare throat, cutting short the cry that rose to his lips. The rifle clattered to the floor as instinctively he clutched with both hands at the wire which was throttling him.

'Shut the door,' snapped Biggles.

Algy jumped to the door and closed it.

Biggles forced the sentry to the floor. 'Keep still or I'll choke you,' he snarled. Then to Algy. 'Get that sheet. Tear it into strips and tie him while I hold him.'

The sentry made no resistance. Indeed, as he was already nearly dead, he was in no condition to do so.

'Buck up,' urged Biggles. 'I don't want to kill the wretched fellow.'

For a minute or two, after he had loosened the wire, he really thought he had killed him, for the man's eyes were projecting and his tongue hanging out. His body was limp. However, by applying artificial respiration they restored him, after which Biggles relieved him of his jacket and trousers. This done, he was securely bound and gagged, and lifted into the bunk. The blanket was spread over him.

'Why all this performance?' queried Algy. 'There's nothing to prevent us making a bolt for it, is there?'

'You seem to have forgotten Ginger,' Biggles reminded him. 'We can't go without him.

From now on I'm the sentry. As he spoke Biggles threw off his officer's uniform and put on that of the soldier. 'You stay here and keep an eye on Fritz,' he ordered. 'I'm going outside.'

I get it,' answered Algy, as Biggles picked up the rifle and went out into the corridor.

All clear,' he whispered; then he locked the door and took up the sentry's duties.

It was clear that everything now depended upon Ginger's early arrival, for should this be delayed a dozen contingencies might arise to betray the plot. The sentry might be relieved; von Stalhein might come and recognition follow; the N.C.O. in charge of the guard might come along and perceive that the sentry was not the man he had posted. Still it did not occur to Biggles to leave the boat without Ginger. The minutes ticked by. All seemed quiet. The men who had been working outside had evidently been dismissed.

Chapter 15.

The Last Round It was a good half-hour before Biggles heard with satisfaction the sound that he had so anxiously awaited; it was the tramp of feet coming up the gangway. There was a challenge; it was answered; the footsteps came on again, now on the deck, towards the head of the companion-way. Biggles walked up and down past the cabin door.

A minute later there appeared at the end of the corridor a procession consisting of four persons. First came a naval officer, in oilskins, a belt on the outside carrying a revolver-holster. He was followed by two seamen, also in oilskins, carrying rifles. Between them, looking very forlorn, marched Ginger. He did not even glance up as the party came to a halt in front of the door where Biggles awaited it.

Biggles saluted, unlocked the door, and threw it wide open. The party went on inside. All eyes were on Algy, for enough light entered from the corridor for him to be seen. Biggles brought up the rear.

As soon as he was across the threshold he dropped the point of his bayonet until it was pointing at the officer's back. 'The first man who moves or makes a sound dies,' he said quietly, but distinctly.

Every head, including Ginger's, turned.

Biggles stood like a statue just inside the doorway. His eyes met those of the officer. '

One sound and it will be your last,' he said coldly. 'We're desperate men. Algy, take his revolver. Ginger, collect the rifles.'

None of the Germans made a sound, nor did they protest; they seemed stunned, which was hardly surprising. Such movements as they made were slow, and they were disarmed almost before they realized what was happening.

Biggles now came inside and closed the door. 'Take thier oilskins and caps, then tie them up,' he ordered. use the rest of the sheet, and the flex.'

As soon as this had been done he took the blanket, cut it into three pieces with his bayonet, and tied them over the prisoners' heads. 'They'll do,' he said shortly. 'Let's go.

We've no time to talk now, but there's one thing I must know.' He turned to Ginger. 'Did you get that message through to the fleet?'

Ginger started. He seemed to be in a dream. 'No, I didn't,' he confessed. 'I looked for it until I ran out of petrol, then-'

'Never mind the rest,' cut in Biggles. 'That's all I want to know. We've got to get that message through somehow. There's still time, but there's only one way. A hundred yards along the beach there's a Dornier flying-boat. We've got to get to it. If there's trouble on the way and I drop out, don't wait for me. Go on to the machine. One of us at least ought to reach it. The fleet must come first. Let's get into these oilskins and caps; in the dark we ought to pa.s.s for the escort returning ash.o.r.e having delivered the prisoner. We'll try to bluff our way through. If that fails we shall have to fight.'

He put on the officer's oilskins and cap. As the others followed suit with the remaining garments he looked them over critically. 'You'll do,' he announced. 'Let's march of With Biggles at the head, the little party marched along the corridor to the companionway. A dozen steps took them to the deck. Biggles did not stop, but went straight on to the gangway where a guard stood on duty. The night was cloudy, with rain threatening, so it was not until he was almost within touching distance of the guard that he saw, just beyond, near the stern, in the dim glow of a partly obscured lamp, two other men. One he recognized instantly by his figure; it was von Stalhein. The other appeared to be the captain. Biggles distinctly heard von Stalhein say, 'I must go below now; I want a few words with this new prisoner.'

Biggles did not alter his pace. The man on duty stiffened to attention as he pa.s.sed, but said nothing. They went on down the narrow gangway to the rocks, which were deserted.

Here Biggles paused for a moment to get his bearings, and it was while they stood thus, in the silence, that he heard von Stalhein speak to the man at the head of the gangway.

Said he, in the harsh peremptory tones which German officers employ when addressing subordinates, 'Did somebody go ash.o.r.e just then?'

'Yes, sir,' answered the man. 'It was the guard that brought the prisoner aboard.'

Von Stalhein uttered an exclamation of annoyance. I wanted to speak to that officer,' he snapped, presumably to the captain. Footsteps moved swiftly towards the companionway.

'We've got to get a move on,' said Biggles softly. 'He's going below. In three minutes he'

ll discover that his birds have flown. We'll make for the aircraft. Keep close, and don't make any noise unless it becomes necessary.'

They walked quickly along the beach to the point where the air squadron was stationed.

Biggles hoped that no sentry would have been posted actually on the beach, but in this he was disappointed. A figure loomed up in the darkness.

'Halt! Who goes there?' rapped out a voice.

A split second later, before Biggles could reply, there was a shout from the boat, now some seventy or eighty yards away. 'Stop those men!' roared a voice.

The sentry took a pace nearer. 'Who are you?' he asked suspiciously, for he had, of course, heard the shout.