Chapter 10
Back to Vicuna
"Where are we bound for?" asked Algy, as they reached the junction of the road to the airstrip and the village street.
"Take the right here. Then right again at the crossroads. We're heading for the British & Imperial Pastoral Company airstrip at Vicuna, about 30 miles north of here. An old friend of ours is in charge there - you remember Pat O'Neilson?"
Algy nodded, and put his foot on the accelerator. The jeep raced forward. As they sped up the road towards Vicuna, Biggles gave Algy a brief account of their adventures since they had last seen him, and Algy described his, although there was little that Biggles had not guessed. By the time these notes had been exchanged they had gone some miles, and there was no sign of pursuit.
Within an hour they had reached the sign indicating the turn off to Vicuna.
"This will do," Biggles said. "Stop here. We need to work out our next move."
Algy obediently turned the jeep off the road and allowed it to run quietly in between some of the bushes that hemmed them in on both sides. Not until the vehicle was a good twenty yards from the road did he apply the brakes and switch off the lights.
For a moment they sat in silence. Then Algy spoke. "What's the scheme?" he demanded.
"I think for a start we'll go back to Puerto Guano," replied Biggles.
"Have you taken leave of your senses?" exclaimed Algy.
Biggles smiled. "I think that must be the answer," he replied.
He continued, more seriously. "We know now that Puerto Guano is the place being used as the diamond dump. Good. But to finish the job we were sent to do we need to know the location of the diamond mine."
He paused. The others nodded their agreement.
He continued, "Algy, what's the position at Puerto Guano? How many troops are stationed there?"
"Only four soldiers; the ones you saw nab me on the beach. There's a couple of other fellows as well; a mechanic and a wireless operator."
"What sort of men are they?"
Algy shrugged. "You saw 'em. A scruffy-looking lot - typical Spanish Americans."
Biggles lighted a cigarette and flicked the dead match away. "I've got the glimmering of an idea. Tomorrow is Thursday. As you know, the Argentinian Air Ministry lays on a Dragon Moth to run mails and despatches down the coast from San Julian to Rio Grande, in Tierra del Fuego. It pulls into Puerto Guano on a Thursday afternoon, somewhere between four and five o'clock in the afternoon. It's pretty clear that Dragon Moth is the diamond transport. It must slip over to the diamond mine - which I'm guessing is located somewhere along the headwaters of the Brizo Sur - and pick up a load of diamonds before landing at Puerto Guano. Tomorrow, we shall be waiting for it. We'll grab it. We may discover something important in the machine - maps - log-books - orders - you never know. Few pilots trust to memory - for which reason maps captured from airmen are highly esteemed by the Intelligence Branch. It's ten to one the pilot of the Dragon Moth will have made some notes or pencil marks which will indicate his course. In fact, it was through carelessness of that kind on my part that von Stalhein tracked us down to Bergen Ait, when we were up in the Baltic."
"And how exactly do you intend to manage this?" queried Algy sarcastically.
Biggles smiled. "Pat O'Neilson has a Dragon Moth at Vicuna. Ginger and I shall borrow it. We'll land at Puerto Guano at about three o'clock. If I know anything about Spanish Americans, the Argentinians will all be taking it easy digesting their lunch. As you should know, in South America practically everything closes down from about one o'clock until four. The Argentinians will assume our Dragon Moth is the one that they're expecting, although they may wonder why it's a bit early. Once we've locked them up - probably in that place we got you out of - I shall put on an old pair of overalls, because then I shall look like an Agentinian mechanic when the diamond transport lands."
"That sounds a pretty wild scheme to me," stated Ginger. "What about von Stalhein? He may go back to Puerto Guano."
"It's time you knew that the wilder the scheme the more likely it is to click," said Biggles calmly. "Further, von Stalhein is a German, consequently there is one quality that he lacks and that's imagination. Though he searches the whole country, there is one place in which he will not expect to find us, and that's Puerto Guano. By tomorrow morning he'll know that Algy has escaped and he'll also know that we know that Puerto Guano is the place being used for the diamond dump. From his point of view, we've got what we came for so he'll expect us to head back to Buenos Aires, to the British Embassy there."
"I hope you're right," muttered Ginger.
"What about me?" put in Algy. "Why not let me go?"
"No," Biggles was definite. "I'll get Bertie to slip over from the Falklands and pick you up. There's a place near Vicuna where he can get the flying-boat down. As second-in-command, I shall have to ask you to remain at the Falklands."
"This being second-in-command does me out of all the fun that's going," protested Algy.
"I'm aware of it," admitted Biggles. "But in a military operation either the first or second in command should remain in reserve in case things come unstuck. If by any chance we don't turn up you'll have to use your own initiative about what to do. Now let's press on to Vicuna."
By the time the jeep pulled into the little settlement of Vicuna, it was close to midnight. Biggles gave Algy instructions to head for the landing strip. No lights showed at the windows of the houses, but a number of dogs, presumably sheep-dogs, could be heard barking in the distance. The jeep was concealed in the hangar housing O'Neilson's Dragon Moth, and Biggles ordered Algy and Ginger to stay with it while he made his way over to O'Neilson's house and made contact with him.
"We'll have to get rid of this jeep before anyone sees it. It's got Argentinian military markings," he said tersely. "I'm sure Pat will help us, but I don't want to drag him into this business any more than I have to. I'll explain the plan to him and get back here as soon as I can."
Presently, Biggles returned. With him was Pat O\rquote Neilson, carrying a bundle of blankets, some food - bread, cheese and ham - tied up in a cloth, and a water bottle.
He recognised Algy and smiled a greeting. "Hullo, Algy. Biggles told me you tracked down the Hun diamond dump. Good show."
Algy returned the smile. "Nothing to it," he declared.
Biggles cut in. "Algy, you and Pat will take the jeep down to the jetty I told you about. There's a cliff there that you can drive the jeep over and sink it in deep water. Pat will show you the place, then come back here on foot. It's only a couple of miles. You stay there and keep your head down until Bertie can get over to pick you up. Ginger and I will send a signal to Port Stanley telling Bertie to come over as soon as he can. We'll stay here, in the hangar, until it's time to leave for Puerto Guano. It would be best if Pat is the only person who knows anything about this business for as long as possible."
"Okay," agreed Algy. "We'd better get off, then."
"A couple of other things. First, when you get to the Falklands, send Raymond an urgent message telling him that Puerto Guano is the place that von Stalhein is using to load the U-boats, and we're running on a hot scent. Ask him to organise some military machines for us. Whatever he can get in a hurry. I have a feeling we will be needing them soon. Second, Ginger and I should be back from Puerto Guano by tomorrow evening. We'll be waiting at the jetty for you to pick us up in the flying-boat by dawn the day after tomorrow."
Brief goodbyes were exchanged and the jeep drove off. Biggles and Ginger went to the radio building, which housed a modern wireless transmitter. Ginger was of course already familiar with the equipment. It was by this time shortly after one o'clock in the morning.
"At this hour, hopefully no-one will be listening in," remarked Biggles. "I don't want anything going wrong, so tell the night radio operator to get Bertie out of bed. I want to be sure he understands what he's got to do."
Fifteen minutes later an answering message was received to say that Flight Lieutenant Lissie was standing by for orders. Bertie was given instructions to come over as soon as he could in the morning to collect Algy. This done, Biggles and Ginger returned to the hangar.
"Right. I'm going to roost in the Dragon Moth. Pat told me the seats have been taken out, so there'll be plenty of room," said Biggles. "I'm too tired to eat anything now."
He looked hard at Ginger's face. "Are you feeling all right?"
"Right as rain - why?"
"I thought you looked a bit pale, that's all."
Ginger forced a grin, for in fact he was feeling a little unwell. "Must be all the excitement on an empty stomach," he said casually.
Biggles climbed into the aircraft, kicked off his shoes, wrapped himself in a blanket and lay down to sleep. Ginger followed his example.
He was tired and expected to fall asleep at once without difficulty; but this did not happen. For a long time he lay still with his eyes closed, hoping that the spasm of nausea from which he was suffering would pass off. It did not. On the contrary, it became worse. He became aware that his left arm was throbbing painfully. Having always enjoyed good health he could not imagine what was wrong; and the fact that something was wrong only served to irritate him. But this aspect of the matter was forgotten, to be replaced by real fear, when he tried to rise but found that he had lost the power of movement. His bones and muscles had turned to jelly. He tried to shout, but he could only croak. An icy chill began to creep through his limbs, yet he shivered with fever. A deadly weariness came over him and he fell into a dream in which he saw Jeanette Ducoste, close enough to touch. He reached out to her and called her name over and over again but she faded away and the dream became a ghastly nightmare in which Erich von Stalhein was searing the flesh from the bone of his arm with a red-hot iron.
Suddenly Ginger became conscious that he was drinking; that water, cool refreshing water was splashing on his face. He heard Biggles' voice, but it sounded far away.
"Hold hard, Ginger, I shall have to cut them out."
Ginger felt a sudden sharp pain in his left arm. Then darkness rushed in upon him. His head was spinning and he felt himself falling - falling - falling ...
When Ginger awoke the sun was casting slanting shafts of yellow light through the skylights in the hangar roof. It took him some time to remember where he was and what had happened. Gradually consciousness returned, and with it a mild throbbing ache in his arm, which he now saw was bandaged. But his head was clearer. Biggles was squatting in the doorway of the machine, smoking a cigarette. He must have heard Ginger move, for in a flash he turned round.
"How are you feeling?" he asked.
"Not too bad. What happened?"
Biggles' eyes took on a far-away look that Ginger had never see before and which made him feel distinctly uncomfortable.
"I heard you calling out Jeanette's name last night," he said quietly. "You were delirious. I realised that you must have come down with tick fever. I had to dig two of the filthy little brutes out of your arm with my jack-knife."
Rather awkwardly, Ginger changed the subject. "Has Bertie been over?"
"I heard aero engines at about six o'clock. I didn't see the machine but it sounded like the flying-boat. It seemed to get away without any trouble. I was afraid that if our message was picked up the air might be stiff with Messerschmitts this morning."
"Is there much of that grub left?"
"Yes. I've had my breakfast. You can polish off the rest of it."
The next few hours passed slowly, as is always the case when important events are impending. Ginger, in response to Biggles' questioning, declared that he felt much better for having eaten some food. Indeed, he did feel better, but his left arm troubled him a good deal more than he was prepared to admit. This was understandable. Ginger could not bear to think that physical weakness on his part should result in the failure of the mission.
Biggles and Ginger did not see O'Neilson until nearly two o'clock, when he appeared with some sandwiches and a flask of tea. "Better have lunch before you go," he said cheerfully. "We're all set. Nobody knows you're here. I've sent my mechanics off on an errand to Santa Cruz. They won't be back until tomorrow afternoon. I don't think anybody else here will think anything of it when you take off."
O'Neilson stayed chatting with Biggles and Ginger until it was three o'clock, then helped them to open the hangar doors and pull the Dragon Moth out.
"It's time we were moving," declared Biggles, glancing at his wrist-watch. "We should be back before it gets dark. In case we're not, can you put some flares out for us?"
"Of course," replied O'Neilson. "I must be mad to have allowed myself to get tangled up with you, Biggles," he continued, shaking his head. "I shall get fired for this if you don't bring my machine back in one piece."
"I'll do my best," promised Biggles.
"Stout fellow, O'Neilson," commented Ginger as the Dragon Moth taxied down the airstrip.
"It's just because any Britisher would do what he's done that the old Empire goes on," returned Biggles quietly.