04 Biggles Flies Again by Captain W E Johns

Author:Captain W E Johns
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2010-09-13T23:00:00+00:00

allowed him another twenty minutes' grace. It was impossible to tell which way the river flowed, but he turned the nose of the machine towards its broader end in the hope of reaching the sea, knowing that the nearer he was to the coast the safer he would be. He breathed a sigh of relief as presently the sea rose up on the horizon, but he was still some distance away when the steady roar of his engine became an intermittent splutter and then died away completely. The propeller gave a final kick and then stopped.

The pilot coolly studied the river to pick out the best spot within range for the inevitable landing. There were several straight reaches, and he automatically chose the longest, which fortunately happened to be the one nearest the sea. At a thousand feet he passed over a native village standing on stilt-like legs in the mud on the edge of the river, and he noted with satisfaction that it seemed deserted.

The tree-tops were motionless, so he concluded that there was little wind, if any, to be taken into account, and he flattened out confidently over the middle of the river. He skimmed over a great tree floating in the water and hoped desperately that there were no more; but his fears were groundless. The "Vandal" surged slowly to a standstill on the muddy water, and then commenced to float slowly downstream with the current. The pilot could do no more; he was even powerless to reach the bank, so after a swift glance around he hurried through into the cabin.

Dawne was lying on his side on the floor just as he

had left him. His face was ashen, but his eyes were open.

"Don't take it out," he said quietly, as he saw the pilot's eyes turn towards the spear in his back. "It will be all over if you do. It will soon be all over, anyway," he went on, "but before I go topsides I want to apologise to you, Bigglesworth

"

"Don't worry about that, Dawne," said Biggles softly, as he folded his jacket and placed it under the wounded man's head. "I'm sorry I couldn't make Moresby, but they holed my tank."

"Where are we now?" asked Dawne.

"On the river," replied Biggles.

"Do you mean the big river east of where I landed?" Biggles nodded. A drum began beating fitfully in the bush not far away.

"You'll be all right then, if you are fairly near the sea," went on Dawne. "Most of the villages are friendly here."

There was silence for a few minutes, and the pilot, squatting on the floor, watched the stricken man compassionately.

"Just my luck," muttered the ex-pilot bitterly. "I would get this just as I had my hands on that." His eyes sought the bag of gold-dust lying on the floor. "I never did have much luck," he concluded ruefully.

"It's tough, very tough, I'll admit," agreed Biggles, "but you were asking for trouble the way you went to work."

"There wasn't any other way," muttered the wounded man.

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