BIGGLES
FLIES SOUTH
by Captain W.
E. Johns
XV. CONDEMNED
TO THE CROCODILE (Pages 195 – 206)
Dawn comes and Biggles explains his
thoughts about any escape. Without
sufficient petrol how would they get away?
Algy asks Biggles what he will do if “they try to repeat this crocodile
stunt with us”. “Just fight as hard as
we can in the hope that they will club us over the head,” returned Biggles
briefly. The day passes and when the
moon is up another procession starts and guards arrive to take Biggles
away. There is nothing the others can
do. Biggles still has his gun hidden
under his arm and complies as meekly as a lamb and he wants to avoid being tied
up. The procession moves off, led by the
old hag. He is taken to the pool where
the crocodile awaits, “doubtless, it knew all about the procession and its
purpose, having been fed in this way for generations”. Biggles starts singing “Rule, Britannia” and
“as he sang he edged slowly along, with the mincing steps of a ballet dancer,
towards the right”. Having reached the
spot for which he was making, Biggles drops to his knees and begins scraping at
the sand while the crowd around him presses nearer to see what he is doing. The crowd gasps when he produces a can of
petrol, no doubt believing it was magic, having never seen such a thing
before. He unearths six cans and takes
the lids off three of them. Biggles
empties two cans around him and before he can empty the third, the crocodile
rushes at him. Biggles throws the third
can into it’s mouth and it bites through it, bellowing as petrol gushes
out. Biggles then pulls out his
automatic and fires into the crocodile’s open jaws. (Biggles took his automatic from under his
arm, and fired into the open jaws - is the illustration on page 205). “A sheet of flame shot out of its mouth so
far that is actually scorched Biggles’s legs”.
The crocodile then charges madly at the crowd. “Instantly all the loose petrol that Biggles
had splashed about went up in a great sheet of flame and the most appalling
pandemonium ensued that it was possible to imagine”. “Flames were everywhere. The very air seemed to be on fire – as indeed
it was, for it was saturated with petrol vapour”. Biggles has the reek of singeing hair in his
nostrils. “His own eyebrows had gone, as
had the front of his hair, but he did not realise it then”. The crowd has now
dispersed and snatching up the three remaining cans, Biggles runs down the path
that leads to the tombs of the dead.