Biggles and the Pirate Treasure by W E Johns

Author:W E Johns [Johns, W E]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Adventure
Published: 2011-12-11T22:29:31+00:00

Two aircraft, a Proctor and an Auster, droned at a sober speed across the weary waste of Africa that lies northeast of Kenya. In the Proctor were Biggles and Ginger: in the Auster, Algy and Bertie. Both machines, modified for police work, were equipped with long range tanks and high frequency radio telephony. They were, in fact, two of the machines that had been used in the search for the fanatical negro who had called himself The Black Elephant.1

Biggles’s plan, if it could be called a plan, was to fly direct to Klookerstein in the Proctor and begin his enquiries there. If the people were willing to co-operate, so well and good. If they were not, then they would lay themselves open to suspicion. Algy and Bertie, in the slow-flying Auster, were to search the area for signs of the missing pilot Harley.

Biggles thought they had a reasonable chance of finding him, for if Harley had been sufficiently badly hurt to die or faint in his cockpit, assuming that it was he who had sent out the strange message, he could not have flown far from his base. As things turned out this surmise proved to be correct.

‘All right. Carry on,’ Biggles told Algy over the radio when they were within fifty miles of the objective. ‘Concentrate on the eastern side. Harley would head towards the nearest settlements, not away from them, if he was hurt. I’ll pick you up later if you don’t hear from me.’

The Auster turned away to begin its search. The Proctor went on, and a quarter of an hour later put down its wheels on the sun-dried grass of the Klookerstein airstrip, its arrival being watched by several men, both black and white, from the entrance of a canvas hangar that still showed the brown and green of war-time camouflage. Inside the hangar Ginger could just make out the shape of a Puss Moth. There were one or two other tents, smaller ones, and a native compound. A wind-stocking hung limply from a pole.

None of the watchers moved as the Proctor taxied up and its crew got down. They all stood watching, and from their attitudes Ginger sensed at once an atmosphere of guarded hostility — or, at least, it was clear that the Proctor was not welcome.

As he walked up, Biggles gave no indication that he was aware of anything unusual. Nor did his attitude change when he was greeted with a surly: ‘If you’re looking for petrol we’ve none to spare.’

‘As it happens I’m not looking for petrol,’ answered Biggles evenly. ‘I’m looking for a friend of mine named Harley.’

‘He’s gone,’ was the curt reply.

‘Do you know where he is?’

‘No, I wish I did. He took one of my machines, and the pay-roll.’

Biggles looked at the spokesman. ‘Are you by any chance Mr. de Goot?’

‘General de Goot.’

‘Sorry. You don’t mind if we stretch our legs for a little while?’

De Goot hesitated. ‘Don’t make it too long. We’ve just had word that a big locust swarm is heading south and we plan to intercept it.

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