"It's too small for a man. Great Scot, it's Ginger!" burst out Biggles, suddenly understanding. "He must have cut it adrift, and the wind has blown him across. He's brilliant, is that boy! That isn't cleverness, it's genius-genius," he repeated in his enthusiasm. "Look! He's trying to keep her straight with that piece of plank. Let's give him a hail so that he'll know we've seen him."
The voice of the hound echoed weirdly through the trees not far away, and there was a crashing in the undergrowth.
"Hi, Ginger!" cried Biggles. "Good boy-keep going!"
There was an answering wave from Ginger, whom they could now see was sitting astride a float, with his feet dangling in the water, wielding a piece of wood like a paddle. He had little control over the machine, however, which was drifting sideways before the wind at a good speed; he would have been powerless, of course, to travel in any other direction.
He was still fifty yards away from them when the deep bay of the hound burst out so close that Biggles turned, whipping out his revolver. Ginger must have heard it, too, for he redoubled his efforts to hasten the progress of the machine.
"This is going to be touch-and-go, Smyth," said Biggles quietly, cool and alert now that the prospect of action was so close. "Stand fast; we must avoid getting wet through if we can prevent it. When she comes near enough, get into the cabin as quickly as you can and get Ginger in with you; he must be frozen stiff with cold."
The crashing in the bushes was now right upon them, and the hound broke cover at the spot where they themselves the previous evening had struck the lake. A shot rang out and several men appeared at the edge of the forest just as Biggles grabbed the toe of the nearest float and swung the machine round. "Hang on, Ginger!" he yelled, seeing that the boy was nearly exhausted, and sprang into the cockpit. He fumbled with the unusual controls for a moment, but found the petrol-cock and turned it on. "Keep your heads, everybody!" he shouted.
A rifle cracked and the bullet ricocheted off the engine cowling with a shrill whang.
The engine started with a bellow that awoke the sleeping echoes, and drowned the reports of the weapons on the bank. Biggles saw Smyth stagger and knew that he had been hit, but he dared not wait to investigate. With rudder hard over he roared round in a whirlpool of foam, and as the nose of the machine pointed towards the open water jerked the throttle wide open and skimmed across the surface of the lake. He took her off as soon as he dared, for bullets were now cutting long, vicious-looking weals in the water around them, and zooming over the tree-tops turned its nose towards the west. Only when he had put her on even keel, and set his course to his satisfaction, did he turn to see how badly Smyth was hurt; but the mechanic made a deprecating gesture as he pointed to his shoulder, indicating that the bullet had only grazed him, so Biggles turned again to his task of flying the machine.
Presently he felt someone nudge him in the back, and half-turning saw Ginger offering him a good-sized hunk of bread and an onion. He took them with a sign of surprise and thanks, and with the stick in one hand and his breakfast in the other, headed for the smaller lake. The food was primitive in its simplicity, but he could not remember enjoying a meal so much. It put new life into him, and with his old self-assurance reasserting itself he looked around the sky for possible enemies. He did not see another machine, however, during the ten minutes it took him to reach the lake. He circled it once, looking for the amphibian, and at last, to his great relief, picked it out in spite of its protective covering of weeds and rushes.
He landed and saw Algy watching him morosely, but as he taxied towards him he saw him jump down on to the bank and run towards the wood. Not until then did Biggles remember that Algy had no means of knowing who was in the machine, so he raced tail-up towards the amphibian, switching off only at the last moment. "Get out and stop him, Ginger," he snapped, "or we shall lose him again."
"Hi, Algy!" shouted Ginger, as he leapt down into the mud.
Algy heard him at once, and the expression of comical amazement on his face as he turned set them all laughing.
" What the-who the-where the--? " he stammered.
"We'll tell you about it later; we've got to move quickly now," replied Biggles. "What's wrong with the machine? "
"Nothing except that she is bogged."
"Thank goodness. That's why you didn't come back?"
"Of course."
"Is she in very deep?"
"Not so far that the four of us can't get her out, I think, but I couldn't do it single-handed."
"Let's have a look at her. Smyth, take a look and see how much petrol there is in the tanks of this machine. If we can get the amphibian clear we'll transfer it."
It took them an hour, working like Trojans, to get the amphibian clear of her slimy bed, and they all breathed more freely as she floated out on to the water, filthier than she had ever been in all her travels. It took them another twenty minutes to transfer the petrol.
The tanks were not so full as they had hoped, but they contained a fair amount, which augmented the amphibian's now very scanty supply.
Somewhat to their surprise, but to their great relief, they were not molested, although more than once they heard the drone of an aero-engine in the distance; but it was not until they were all on board the amphibian, with Algy munching a dry crust ravenously, that they began to feel really safe.
"Which way are you going?" he asked, as they waited for the engine to warm up.
"I'm going to make for Sweden," replied Biggles. "I want to get out of this country as soon as I can, and we should be mad to try and fly back over Germany. We should be seen and stopped before we had gone ten miles. I'll warrant every policeman in the country is on the lookout for us, and the first town we pass over will set the telephones ringing; it's a case of any port in a storm, and Sweden is the nearest. I don't think they dare touch us there. Once we strike the coast, we'll cruise down it until we come to a town, where we'll fill up with petrol and push on for home. Where's that case you had, Ginger?"
"I threw it away, but the papers are in my pocket."
"Good. I'm anxious to hear how you managed to steal an aeroplane, but we shall have to postpone that story until we get somewhere where there is no risk of being blown up or shot down."
He pushed the throttle open, and the amphibian soared into the air like a bird.
CHAPTER XIII.
FOG.
THEY began their long flight with a good deal of trepidation, but as the time passed and they saw no signs of pursuit the tension which they all felt became less severe and they looked forward to reaching their destination without being molested. With less petrol in the tanks than he would have liked, Biggles could not afford to make detours round frontiers, so he flew in a straight line, keeping slightly to the east of north-east.
They saw two or three machines in the far distance as the sea came into sight, but the pilots were either not concerned with them or did not see them, for they made no move in the direction of the amphibian. The front main tank gave out just as they reached the coast, and Biggles switched over to the rear tank with a grimace at Algy, for he would have liked to do better. The smoke of a steamer attracted his attention, and he saw with a shock that the wind, which had so opportunely blown Ginger across the lake when he had purloined Black-beard's machine, had now swung right round in the opposite direction, and was directly in their teeth. This at once reduced their chances of reaching Sweden with a reasonable margin of fuel, but there was no help for it; they could only keep on.
The land faded away behind them, but they did not abandon their vigilance, knowing that Russian sea and air craft operate over the Baltic, and that there was still a chance that if the passage of the amphibian had been seen by watchers on the ground a wireless message might send a machine, or machines, to intercept them. But as the day wore on into the afternoon, and still no aeroplanes were sighted, they began to congratulate themselves on their escape, and look joyfully ahead for land, which could only be Sweden, their objective. An exclamation of satisfaction escaped Biggles' lips when at last it appeared on the horizon.
"We've made it!" he shouted to Algy, and at that very moment the second tank failed. He switched over at once to the gravity tank, which contained about enough spirit to keep them in the air for another twenty minutes. "I spoke too soon," he went on grimly; "it's going to be a close thing. If we can hold on long enough to get our wheels on Swedish soil, I don't mind."
The coastline became more clearly defined, but they seemed to approach it with exasperating slowness, and all the time the precious petrol was being rapidly burnt up in the cylinders. Suddenly the engine coughed, spluttered and died away; the prop stopped, and the nose of the amphibian tilted down.
Biggles glanced at his altimeter and saw that the needle hovered on the five thousand mark. The shore was still a good five miles away. "Can't do it," he said calmly in the uncanny silence.
"We can-just," contradicted Algy.
"We might if we were alone; we're four up, remember. We shall be about a quarter of a mile short. Still, if we can hit a town we shall be seen, and a boat will no doubt tow us in.
Can you see a town anywhere? I can't."
"Nor I," replied Algy. "I don't see a sign of life anywhere."
"That's a pity," answered Biggles, "but we're lucky there isn't a big sea running, anyway. If the tide is right for us we may drift ashore; it looks low and sandy, thank goodness."
He proved to be correct in his estimate as to how far the amphibian would glide with her heavy load, for she nosed down gently, and by holding her off as long as he could Biggles at last touched the keel on the water about two or three hundred yards from the flat, sandy foreshore.
"So near and yet so far," he muttered tritely. "It seems silly to fail by such a narrow margin after coming so far, but we did our best. One would have thought there would be a house of some sort about, even if it were only a fisherman's hut, but I can't see a blessed thing. I wonder which way the tide is running? "
"It's hard to tell," replied Algy, climbing out of the cockpit to the top of the hull, where the other three joined him. "Let's watch for a bit," he suggested.
Half an hour later they were no nearer the shore, but they were some distance from the place where they had first landed, and it became clear that they were being carried down the coast, on a course parallel with it, by a strong current.
"We shall come to a village or something presently," announced Algy confidently.
"I hope you're right. We shall soon have to start doing something."
"Why-what do you mean? "
"Look at the sun!"
The others turned their eyes towards where the sun now glowed redly in the west.
"It's going to do something presently," went on Biggles, "but I am not quite sure what.
That sun either means fog or wind."
The others made no reply, but sat and watched the sun being slowly blotted out by a rapidly thickening haze. The horizon disappeared.
" Hark ! " As Biggles spoke, he sprang to his feet, staring seaward. "There they are, three of them," he muttered tersely.
The others, following his outstretched arm, saw three tiny black specks against the grey sky, three specks that grew rapidly larger even as they watched.
"Probably Swedish Air Force machines," said Algy. "They go in for seaplanes quite a lot."
"I hope you're right, but I am afraid you're wrong," Biggles told him calmly. "I don't like the way they just changed their direction. They were heading pretty well due east a moment ago, and then it almost seemed as if they had spotted us by the way they turned.
Yes," he went on after a moment's pause, "that settles it; that's Blackbeard's machine in front; there's no mistaking it. Hi! Where are you going?"
The last remark was addressed to Ginger, who had swung one leg over the side of the amphibian.
"We'd better swim for it, hadn't we?"
"Don't be a young fool; come back. Look at the rate we're drifting. How much headway do you think you'd make against that five-knot current? Come back here. Stand fast, everybody."
There was no longer any doubt about either the identity or intentions of the pilots of the three seaplanes, for their engines were cut off and they began to glide down towards the helpless amphibian. At the last moment, either by pre-arrangement, or in obedience to a signal made by Blackbeard, who was leading, the two rear machines opened up their engines again and began circling, evidently in order to act as escort to the third machine, which was now surging through the water at the end of its landing run.
A curious expression crept over Biggles' face as Black-beard's seaplane, now swinging round in a wide turn towards them, suddenly assumed a dim, ghostly appearance. "The fog!" he cried excitedly. "The fog-it's coming down!"
Blackbeard seemed to realize it, too, for his machine yawed violently as he tried to bring it round too quickly; but he was too late. The outline of the seaplane became a vague, grey shadow that merged swiftly into the mist until it was lost to view. A moment later, curling fingers of white mist reached out towards the amphibian's wing-tips, and then enfolded the whole machine in its clammy embrace.
For a full minute the four watchers on the amphibian stood staring stupidly into the grey pall, and then with one accord they turned towards each other. The roar of the engines of the two machines overhead made conversation almost impossible, but presently the noise began to recede, and Biggles grinned derisively. "They're climbing out of it-and so should I," he observed. "This is about the rummiest state of affairs I ever struck in my life. What I should really like to know is, is Blackbeard still on the water, or did he take off again when he saw what was happening? I had an idea that he opened his throttle again at the last moment, but the other two machines were making such a row that I couldn't be sure."
"Yes, he opened up again," declared Smyth, "but I think that was in order to try and reach us before the fog blotted us out. I don't think he took off."
"Stand still; let's listen," said Biggles.
They stood silent for a little while, but the only sound that reached them was the fast-diminishing drone of the machines in the air, and whether there were two or three of them it was impossible to say.
"Everybody keep his eyes skinned," ordered Biggles sharply. "If Blackbeard is on the water, we don't want him barging into us in this murk. I wonder how he got his machine back? Somebody must have seen it on the ,lake after we left, I expect, and somebody else told the authorities the, direction we were taking. Could anybody see how many people there were in the cabin? "
"Two, I think," put in Ginger. "I saw a face looking at us out of the side cabin window, and I thought there was another face behind, but I couldn't be quite sure."
"All right, but we must be quiet. Sound carries a long way in this atmosphere."
"What had we better do?" inquired Algy.
"Can you think of anything to do?" asked Biggles inquiringly.
"No, I can't, and that's a fact."
"Neither can I, except sit here and wait until something happens. It seems to me that everything depends on what occurs between now and when the fog lifts, although personally I don't think it will lift this side of nightfall; it's a typical evening fog caused by a change of temperature following evaporation during the heat of the day. We were lucky; it came in the nick of time, but it's a bit worrying. We were drifting at a good rate when it came down, and daylight might find us out of sight of land; on the other hand, we might drift ashore during the night."
"Pity we couldn't have made that last two hundred yards," muttered Ginger regretfully. "I wonder-"
"Listen, my lad," interrupted Biggles quietly; "never worry your head wondering what might have happened -that doesn't matter two hoots. Always stick to facts; they are the only things that count. We didn't reach the coast, so all the wondering in the world about what might have happened if we had is a sheer waste of time. Remember that."
"O.K., chief," replied Ginger obediently.
"Well, it will soon be getting dark, by the look of it," went on Biggles, "so some of us might as well see about taking a rest. We'll keep watches as before, two on duty and two off. If Blackbeard's machine is on the water we may drift together, so keep a good lookout. If we do collide, we'll try and fend him off; we'll avoid trouble as long as we can."
CHAPTER XIV.
BLACKBEARD SPEAKS.
IT was pitch-dark when Biggles, whose turn it was to rest, was awakened by Ginger shaking his shoulder. " What is it? " he asked quickly.
" We're drifting ashore."
"Are you certain? "
"Positive. I can hear waves lapping."
Biggles hurried through to the cockpit just as the machine gave a lurch and remained tilted on its side. "You're right," he said softly; "we're aground. What's about the time?"
"I don't know, but it must be getting on towards daylight," answered Smyth, who was keeping watch with Ginger.
"I see; wake up Mr. Lacey, one of you, will you?" Biggles climbed over the side and found he could stand in about two feet of water. The fog was, if anything, more dense than ever, and in the darkness it was impossible to see a yard.
"What about it?" asked Algy, joining him.
Biggles drew a deep breath and shook his head doubtfully. "Goodness knows," he said. "
This has got me baffled. We may be on the mainland and we may be on an island; we may be just aground in shoal-water. We daren't risk leaving the machine; we should never find it again in this murk, and if we happen to be on a sandbank we should be in a mess. I don't think anybody could go five yards in this without losing all sense of direction. The machine might even drift away and leave us stranded if we left her. I don't even know whether the tide is going in or out, so inside ten minutes the machine may be either afloat again, or high and dry."
"Someone might stay with the machine and keep in touch with the others by shouting."
"Useless ! It's hopeless to try and locate a sound in this sort of stuff; one moment it seems to come from one direction and the next from somewhere else. We can't afford to lose the aircraft. I'm afraid we shall have to sit tight until the fog lifts. How long is our anchor line? We might tie someone on to the end of it and let him do a bit of exploring."