Biggles - Charter Pilot by Johns Capt W E

By Johns Capt W E

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Anyway, there we were, and there appeared to be nothing for us to do except wait for Donald to finish his investigations and then take him home. He wasn't long making his first discovery. It was an eel, but such a monster as no one had ever seen before. It was about forty feet long. Luckily, it was dead. It had split up the middle; Donald said this was where it had burst when it had come to the surface. When the enormous pressure of water to which it was accustomed had been relaxed, it had exploded like a balloon in thin air.

By taking these in certain proportions they could arrest the advance of age, or, conversely, expedite it. Mind you, I'm not saying that I believe this. I'm just telling you what Wedson told Donald. It seems that Wedson had been prospecting for gold in the Andes, and was trying to reach the Amazon when he came upon the desert. There was nothing remarkable about it except that the cacti were extraordinary both in shape and size. He spotted the plateau. There was nothing singular about that, either, because if you care to read books on the subject you'll learn that this formation is common in South America, due to the subsidence of the land at some time in the remote past.

Picking our way between the nesting birds, we made for the village. I mention this picking our way because the penguins would not move for us, and if you got too close you were liable to get a dagger in your foot—the dagger being a penguin's beak. Apart from penguins and sea-birds, we saw a few seals on the beach, but nothing else. The village was a melancholy looking place, grass-grown, windows- out, doors flapping in the wind. I'm not soft, but there's something sad about an abandoned human habitation.

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