BIGGLES
AND THE LITTLE GREEN GOD
by Captain W.
E. Johns
3. THE AIR COMMODORE
CONCLUDES (Pages 24 – 33)
“This particular work of art we’ve been
talking about – because that’s what it is quite apart from the remarkable jewel
that decorates its forehead – has been bought and sold several times since it
was brought to light in the East End of London.
Always the price paid has gone up”.
“The last time it was sold, by public auction at one of the leading
London sale-rooms, it was knocked down for £75,000, which is pretty steep even
for what is sometimes called a “collector’s” piece. (£75,000 in 1969 is worth £1,037,259 in
2024). Biggles observes there must
have been several bidders to send it up to that sort of figure. In the end it sold to a South American
multi-millionaire named Don Carlos Ricardo Pallimo, from Santiago in Chile. Pallimo chartered an aircraft to fly his new
possession home to Chile. An
eight-seater Caravana had brought over a member of the Chilean Embassy and his
family and was due to fly back empty.
Pallimo engaged a man to carry the package personally. The idol was insured with a London firm for a
hundred thousand pounds and Raymond adds “Nothing could replace an object that
is in fact irreplaceable. If the plane
went down in the sea the god would be lost for ever, anyway”. Biggles asks about Pallimo and is told that
he claims to be of Spanish ancestry and that a Pallimo was one of the
conquistadores who were with Pizarro when he took that part of South America in
1531. (Francisco Pizarro, born around
1478, murdered 26th June 1541, was a Spanish conquistador, best
known for his expeditions that led to the Spanish conquest of the Inca Empire). Raymond says “I imagine the pure Spanish
blood has got a little mixed with the native over the centuries”. The aircraft left “Heath Row” about six weeks
ago. It arrived safely at its first port
of call, “Beunos Aires” (It’s actually spelt Buenos Aires, meaning fair
winds in Spanish, and is the capital of Argentina) and was checked and
refuelled at the main international airport of Ezeiza. It then took off on the last leg of its
journey to Santiago and never arrived.
“The company that owns the plane, as well as machines of the Chilean Air
Force, have made a thorough search, but all report no trace. The search has now been called off”. “Naturally, Don Pallimo is very upset”. “So much be the relatives of the missing
crew, who can have no interest in a lump of carved jade,” Biggles pointed out
with a touch of asperity (harshness of tone or manner). Asking how many people were in the crew,
Biggles is told four. Two pilots, a
navigator who also operated the radio and an air hostess. That doesn’t include the man carrying the
parcel. Raymond says they have been
asked to do something about it because “a London firm will have to fork out a
little matter of a hundred thousand pounds in insurance” and “with the country
short of cash you may be sure the government doesn’t take kindly to the idea of
handing over so much British currency to a foreigner”. “Pallimo has it in his head there’s been foul
play somewhere”. Biggles asks “Are you
seriously suggesting that I fly to South America and undertake a private search
for an aircraft that might have lost itself anywhere between the Atlantic Ocean
and the Pacific?” Raymond says he
thought Biggles might make a few inquiries nearer home. The insurance company are offering a reward
of ten per cent for the safe return of the green masterpiece. Biggles asks “Do I get the money if I find
Old Joe?”. Raymond answers with “You
know perfectly well that as a police officer you are not allowed to accept a
reward for services rendered”. “Not
exactly an inducement for me to stick my neck out by flying over three thousand
miles of salt water and another couple of thousand of tropical jungle backed by
the highest mountains in the world”.
“You’re being awkward again,” chided the Air Commodore. Biggles says he has thought about it and
there is more to this than anyone – except perhaps Pallimo – suspects. “Somebody wanted this idol. Wanted it badly. Why?
This person, who so far hasn’t appeared in the picture, could have been
the man who pushed the price up to what Pallimo had to pay to get it. I imagine he tried to buy it. When that failed, presumably because he
hadn’t as much money as Pallimo, he resorted to more desperate methods to get
it”. Biggles decides to speak to Pallimo
and he tells Raymond “Anyone who starts fiddling about with a pagan god is
asking for trouble, which could be a dose of poison or a poke in the ribs with
a long sharp knife. Mad Carew tried it,
and we know what happened to him”. (Mad
Carew is a reference to the character in the poem “The Green Eye of the Little
Yellow God” written in 1911 by J. Milton Hayes.
You can find out what happened to him by reading the poem below).
There's a one-eyed yellow idol to the
north of Khatmandu,
There's a little marble cross below the town;
There's a broken-hearted woman tends the grave of Mad Carew,
And the Yellow God forever gazes down.
He was known as "Mad Carew" by the subs at Khatmandu,
He was hotter than they felt inclined to tell;
But for all his foolish pranks, he was worshipped in the ranks,
And the Colonel's daughter smiled on him as well.
He had loved her all along, with a passion of the strong,
The fact that she loved him was plain to all.
She was nearly twenty-one and arrangements had begun
To celebrate her birthday with a ball.
He wrote to ask what present she would like from Mad Carew;
They met next day as he dismissed a squad;
And jestingly she told him then that nothing else would do
But the green eye of the little Yellow God.
On the night before the dance, Mad Carew seemed in a trance,
And they chaffed him as they puffed at their cigars:
But for once he failed to smile, and he sat alone awhile,
Then went out into the night beneath the stars.
He returned before the dawn, with his shirt and tunic torn,
And a gash across his temple dripping red;
He was patched up right away, and he slept through all the day,
And the Colonel's daughter watched beside his bed.
He woke at last and asked if they could send his tunic through;
She brought it, and he thanked her with a nod;
He bade her search the pocket saying "That's from Mad Carew,"
And she found the little green eye of the god.
She upbraided poor Carew in the way that women do,
Though both her eyes were strangely hot and wet;
But she wouldn't take the stone and Mad Carew was left alone
With the jewel that he'd chanced his life to get.
When the ball was at its height, on that still and tropic night,
She thought of him and hurried to his room;
As she crossed the barrack square she could hear the dreamy air
Of a waltz tune softly stealing thro' the gloom.
His door was open wide, with silver moonlight shining through;
The place was wet and slipp'ry where she trod;
An ugly knife lay buried in the heart of Mad Carew,
'Twas the "Vengeance of the Little Yellow God."
There's a one-eyed yellow idol to the north of Khatmandu,
There's a little marble cross below the town;
There's a broken-hearted woman tends the grave of Mad Carew,
And the Yellow God forever gazes down.