Chapter 2
A Testing Time
"You shouldn't have let him go on his own! What on earth were you thinking of? For heaven's sake!" The raised voice was Algy's from the co-pilot's seat. Biggles was surprised at his vehemence. He had seldom heard his cousin so worked up.
"Ginger is no longer a child, Algy," expostulated Biggles in his defence. "He'll be 19 in September. Besides," he added, "I offered to go with him. He insisted we carried on and completed the mission. The Air Commodore did stress how urgent it was."
"Of course he insisted!" exclaimed Algy. "What else would you expect? He'd rather die than interfere with a mission, especially as Raymond made such a big thing of it. It doesn't mean that it's right to let him face this alone."
"You forget, Algy," countered Biggles uncomfortably. "Ginger has a lot more experience of the world now than when we first met him. He's seen men die – he's even had to kill them himself."
"That doesn't excuse it," accused Algy, "and he found that upsetting enough, in all conscience, even with us to turn to. Besides, it's not the same as when your last remaining relative has to be buried," he added. "Ginger is completely alone now apart from us."
Biggles shifted uneasily in his seat. He had not been happy with his decision to let Ginger go north alone to bury his father, but he knew that there was no other choice. In his heart of hearts, Biggles knew that Algy, too, acknowledged that there was no alternative, despite his ranting at the situation once he had realised they had taken off and left the lad behind. Even the usually imperturbable Smyth had expressed misgivings, Biggles recalled, when he had boarded without the youngster. He admitted to himself that his reassurances to the mechanic had sounded as hollow then as his attempts to set Algy's mind at rest did now.
"I don't like it any more than you do," he confessed, "but given the importance of the professor's work, could we really do otherwise? The Air Commodore was most insistent that time was of the essence."
Algy looked far from mollified, but he conceded grudgingly, "yes, I suppose you're right. I don't like to think of Ginger dealing with it all by himself, though," he concluded. "He's a good kid, he doesn't deserve that."
Biggles stifled his own misgivings, contenting himself with saying, "don't worry about him, Algy, he's grown up now. It won't be pleasant for him, but he'll cope."
Algy fell silent, keeping any further thoughts to himself. The monotonous drone of the engines remained the only sound in the cockpit as the miles passed. Eventually it was Biggles who broke the lull.
"Keep a sharp lookout," he warned, "and tell Smyth to watch our tail. We should be getting close to the border with Germany now. I'm aiming to stay on the Swiss side, but you never know if the Huns might be putting out patrols."
Algy gave him the thumbs up and disappeared into the cabin to warn the mechanic. When he had returned and settled himself in his seat once more, he started to scan the sky methodically as Biggles flew down the valley and over the lakes towards Basle. Altering course to swing away from the danger zone as he neared the German border, Biggles skilfully began to weave his way through the mountains of Switzerland, heading towards Austria.
Algy glanced at the unfriendly terrain below and listened more acutely to the throb of the engines. Any problems now would mean almost certain disaster among the peaks that crowded beside the aircraft. Thankfully, the Rolls Royce engines never missed a beat.
Soon they were flying through the passes of the Alps, threading their way past the Italian border and following the contours into Innsbruck. Algy yawned, as much from tension as tiredness, but did not relax his vigilance; they might have slipped safely past the Italians, but he knew that they were nearing the point where the German border intruded into Austria near Salzburg, and that therein lay their greatest risk of being intercepted.
Biggles altered course again. It was physically as well as mentally tiring weaving the aircraft through the valleys and passes. One miscalculation and their mission would end on the side of a mountain. Algy stole a look at his cousin; Biggles' face was impassive as he concentrated on the job in hand. Algy's eyes swept the skies again. The tension in the cockpit was almost palpable.
A small dot on the port side caught Algy's attention. He rubbed his eyes, looked away and focussed on it again. It was still there; definitely another aircraft. He reached across and touched Biggles on the arm, pointing to what from its position could only be an enemy.
"I've seen it," Biggles acknowledged tersely, altering his course slightly to present as small a target as possible.
For a moment Algy thought they had been spotted. The small dot grew larger, heading towards them, but then he saw it change shape as the pilot turned away. Unable to relax, he watched it for several minutes until it disappeared from sight.
Unaware that he'd been holding his breath, he let it out in a small sigh as he informed Biggles of their escape.
"Keep your eyes peeled," was Biggles' only response. "He may have friends and their eyesight might be a bit better."
Algy nodded and went back to sweeping the sky. It was monotonous, demanding and hard on the eyes, he thought, but absolutely vital to their mission. If they were shot down on the way into Austria, they would let everybody down, he reflected. So many lives were depending on their success. He was reassured that Smyth was in the cabin, doing exactly the same. Four eyes were better than two when it came to this game.
Several times Algy thought he saw another aircraft, but when he looked away and looked back it had disappeared, his eyes playing tricks on him. He dare not relax his vigilance. That these had proved to be false alarms was no guarantee that the next speck would not turn out to be an interceptor. The minutes passed, each seeming longer than the last. An aircraft is the swiftest means of transport, but its progress across the sky seen from the ground often seems to be at a snail's pace. So it seemed for Algy now, longing for an end to the aching tension as he methodically swept each sector of sky in turn.
The Cormorant droned on, each minute bringing it nearer to its destination, each second that they were not detected increasing their chances of reaching Linz safely.
The scenery began to change. Ahead and to their left, the mountains flattened out, the plain stretching out invitingly towards the Bavarian border, but Biggles edged away, keeping to the defiles and narrow passes. It was more demanding flying, but it lessened their chance of discovery.
They were nearly at their destination now. Algy risked a swift glance at his watch and spared a thought for Ginger. The lad must be well on his way north by now, he guessed, as his eyes meticulously swept the horizon for the hundredth time.
