Disclaimer: I do not own, or claim to own, any of the Biggles series characters used in this work. This fan fiction was written for entertainment purposes only and should not be considered part of the official storyline.
“It shouldn’t be far now,” announced Robbs.
Ginger paused to wipe the sweat off his brow. “Thank
goodness for that,” he panted. “I can’t take much more of this. I think I just
trod on a snake or something a few yards back.”
“If you trod on a snake you would jolly well know it,”
said Robbs. “They don’t take that sort of thing very well, you know. But
anyway, the diamond area should be just over the ridge. At least it was when I
was last there. Watch your step.”
“Why is it so perishing hot?” muttered Biggles.
“It’s the steam from the volcanoes,” said Robbs,
matter-of-factly.
Ginger stopped dead in his tracks. “You don’t mean—the
volcanoes are still working?”
“Working?” echoed Robbs. “Of course they’re still
working. They’re not engines, you know. They never really stop working.”
Ginger started to look apprehensive. “They won’t blow
up while we’re there, will they?”
“Oh,” said Robbs. “I didn’t realize that’s what you
meant. I should say the odds of that happening are fairly low. To my belief
these things have been dormant for several hundred years, and are quite likely
to go on being dormant for several hundred years more.”
“That’s good news, at any rate,” remarked Biggles,
trying to lighten the mood.
“Here we are,” said Robbs, after about ten minutes of
silent walking. “The diamonds are down there.”
Ginger looked. If he had been expecting to see an
ocean of sparkling diamonds, he was sorely disappointed. Everything before him
was the same uniform color of brown. “It doesn’t look like much,” he remarked.
Robbs stooped and picked up what seemed to be a
pebble. “Here’s one.”
“That little piece of dirt?” said Biggles,
incredulously.
“I’m no expert, but I should say it would fetch a few
hundred pounds after it’s been cut.”
Ginger gazed at the pebble with new eyes.
“We’d better take some back to keep Lord Whathisname
happy,” said Biggles. “Has anyone got a bag of some sort? You’d better do the
actual looking, Robbs. Neither of us have the slightest idea what to look for.”
A small cloth bag was produced, and Robbs set about
his task while the two airmen looked on anxiously. Ginger wiped a hand across
his brow. “It seems to be hotter here,” he muttered to Biggles.
“Steam from the volcano. But you’re right, all the
same. I’ll tell Robbs to get a move on. We don’t need to fill the bag, just get
one or two nice ones to pacify Raymond.” Biggles started towards Robbs and just
as he did so, the ground rumbled a little under their feet.
“Wh-what was that?” stammered Ginger, turning pale.
“Nothing to worry about,” called Robbs, who by now was
coming back towards them. “Just the volcano rolling over and going back to
sleep.”
“This place will turn my hair gray if it hasn’t
already,” growled Ginger. “What next?”
“I think we’re about to find out,” replied Biggles
seriously.
“What d’you mean?”
Biggles pointed skywards. There was no need to say
anything. At least half a dozen planes were approaching the island, making more
or less for the spot on which the three airmen stood. “That can’t be Algy. He
knows nothing about this landing ground. Which means it can only be the crooks.
Keep your heads down. This is going to be a hot spot in a minute.”
&&&
Algy and Bertie burst out through the front door. They
made for the front for the front gate, but a few minutes before they had
reached it, a car pulled up in front of the gate, blocking their way. The men
in the car started to get out, and one look at their grim faces and the guns in
their hands was enough to send the two airmen running for the side of the
house.
“Which way?” panted Algy, glancing at Bertie as they
ran.
“Any way, old boy. It’s all the same to me.”
Algy was too out of breath to retort.
Gunshots rang out behind them, and they instinctively
ducked. “Dash it,” murmured Bertie, peevishly. “That one jolly nearly hit me.”
“Here!” gasped Algy, making for a wooden building that
stood a little to the left. The door had been left partially open and Algy made
for it like a drowning man might make for a twig in the middle of a river.
Stumbling through the door, he took a second to catch his breath and recover
his senses. But what he saw almost made him wonder if he was hallucinating. “I
don’t believe it,” he muttered. “It’s our Penguin!”
Bertie, standing in the doorway, looked. “By jove,
you’re right!” he exclaimed. “I wonder what it’s doing here?”
“I’ll tell you what it’s doing here,” replied Algy
grimly. “Von Stalhein must have stolen it after we left the aerodrome. Either
that or Thompson stole it and gave it to him, which amounts to the same thing.”
“Well,” said Bertie. “What are we going to do about
it, if you see what I mean?”
“I know what I’m
going to do about it,” said Algy, striding towards the machine. “I’m stealing
it back. Hop in.”
&&&
“They look like they’re going to land here,” said
Biggles, glancing anxiously at the machines above their heads. “We’d better get
back to Wilks while the going’s good.”
“Shouldn’t we stop to see what they’re up to?”
objected Ginger, as Biggles took the lead and began hurrying back the way they
had come.
“Not on your life. There’re six of them and only three
of us, and I suspect they’re better equipped than we are for a fight. If it
came right down to it, we would find ourselves on the losing side. Besides, we
know what they’re doing. Or at any rate, we have a very good idea. They’re here
for the diamonds. They certainly can’t be here for the view.”
“One of them’s landing,” reported Robbs, who was
bringing up the rear of the procession.
“Well there’s not much we can do about it,” observed
Biggles. “This feels a bit too much like running away for my liking, but I
honestly can’t see what else we should do. We certainly can’t stop them doing
whatever it is they’re here to do.”
“Why are there so many of them?” wondered Robbs aloud,
as they scrambled onto the ridge that ran around the edge of the volcanic area.
“No idea. Come on. What the--!” Biggles’ words trailed
off in a shout as a plane dove down on them, guns spitting fire. Behind them,
they could hear shouting, and a snatched glance back revealed guns pointed in
their direction. “Get down!” snapped Biggles, dragging Ginger aside.
“I think they’ve seen us,” said Robbs, unnecessarily.
“This is what they call caught between two fires,”
muttered Ginger.
“Not quite,” said Biggles, in a curious voice. Ginger
gave him a sharp look, to find him gazing skyward. “Well, well,” he said. “Look
who’s here.”
Ginger looked. Two planes were approaching from the
direction of the mainland. One of them was the plane Algy had been flying when
he had made his hurried retreat.
The other was the Penguin.
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