TYPHOON TREASURE

Ashburton Guardian, Volume 58, Issue 185, 19 May 1938, Page 7

TYPHOON TREASURE

By JOHN McLEOD.

CHAPTER XVIV

Alan had no difficulty in locating the wreck of his lugger. She was lying on a nice sandy bed, and some distance away from the reef. There was a great jagged hole in the bottom where she had struck, and he was able to crawl through this. He was particularly careful not to get his airline caught on a sharp piece of planking, and it was while he was pulling on it to gain some slack that he discovered the loosely trailing lifeline. He tuggeu at it, but there was no resistance; it merely came floating through the water towards him, to settle at his feet. Ho stared at it with a sharp fear. There must have been trouble on board! Perhaps Buck had overcome Scotty. But if that was so why was the air still coming? Still, something must 'nave happened, and without his lifeline there was no way of signalling to the schooner.

He hesitated, not knowing what to do for the moment; but the air pressure was remaining steady and he gradually became reassured. There was just a possibility that Scotty had let the other end of the line'go somehow. True, it had been tied on securely to the rail; Alan had seen to that Himself. Perhaps he would) find another line when he got hack underneath the schooner. He looked at the loose end of the line again and noticed that it was .not long enough to reach from there to the schooner. The line had been cut. He was puzzled ; but he had no means of finding out what had happened. He decided that he might as well try. to get the pearls first, now that he was there. He turned again to the wreck and went through the hole in the side. It was awkward moving about the lugger; the tilt ma“Qe it hard to walk. He managed to reach the door of the cabin, only to find that the battering she had received had jammed the door tight, and all his efforts to open it were useless. In a locker underneath the steering post there was an axe. He made his way aft and got It. Half a dozen blows sent the door inward, and pulling it aside lie went into the cabin. Inside one of the drawers in the table he found the tin box containing the pearls. At last he had achieved his purpose, even if he never got away from the ocean bed. As he turned to go out again, the air bubbles ‘stopped. He paused, a terrible panic gripping him. There could be no doubt about it this time; Scotty was in trouble or he would never have .allowed the pump to stop working. Alan hurried out through the wreck, but just as he got to the hole by which lie had entered he saw large shadows fall across the seabed. He looked up then backed quickly into the lugger again. Two large sharks were fighting just above him. Their struggling ■ brought them closer and he saw that they were not fighting; they were ripping and tearing at something. It was a body! Alan almost fainted. He was sure that it was Scotty who had been thrown overboard. The sharks moved off, still biting and tearing. His head was getting light with the falling air pressure, ne was breathing the same air over and over again. Everything was beooming dim. Tor the moment he felt like letting himself go. The terrors of the past week flashed one after the other through his mind; the dangers they had met and overcome; the wonderful friendship of Scotty which had made the whole jourifey possible, and which had forged a bond between them. And now Scotty was gone, ripped and mangled in one of the most horrible deaths imaginable. Their effort had been worthy a better conclusion.

Alan pulled himself together with an effort. He fingered the knife at his belt. A wild idea occurred to him. There was just a possibility that by cutting his pipeline, doubling it over and holding it tightly, he might be able to walk ashore. The water was not very deep. Hive hundred yards f No, it couldn’t be done. The longest he could hope to remain conscious would be about three minutes, and he couldn’t walk five hundred yards in diving dress in that time. Anyhow, he had no idea in which direction the beach lay; he hadn’t bothered to take his hearings before coming down. By thrpwing off the lead weights on his feet he could have shot to the surface, but his position then would have been just as bad. xlo would merely float with his legs and arms outstretched, and unable to help himself in any

An Exciting Story of Pearling off Australia

(Copyright).

way. Whether on the surface or under the sea lie couldn’t get air. But it would be something to see the sky. He was just on the point of casting off? his weights when the air hubbies started again. He could have laughed aloud with relief. Immediately the air inside his suit began to clear. What was their gamo now It occurred to him that Buck and Webb might think it better to let him bring up the pearls. It would save them the trouble of going down themselves. Once on deck

ho would be at a- disadvantage in diving dress. They could take the pearls and push him back into the water again. If this was their intention there was nothing he could uo to frustrate it. He had to go up, and he wasn’t going up without the pearls now. Anyhow, lie had a respite, and that was something to he thankful for. He followed the angle of the airline along the bottom until he saw the shadow of the schooner above. He found the coil of the cut rope ladder heaped on the bottom. And there was no new lifeline! Alan turned his clumsy helmet and looked upwards again. ITe was trapped cm the sea-bottom! The bubbles were still rising, lint lor bow long would they, come? If they stopped again—■! He shuddered. There was nothing he could do; nothing hut wait, helpless. CHAPTER XX. Scotty was tiring fast. His trip through the jungle, the hardships he had undergone, and the spasmodic, varied meals, had all helped to weaken him. He felt as though his arms would break, and if he tried to straighten his back it ached painfully. The continual up and down movement became automatic. Buck was little better, but although he complained of the wound and that his back was almost breaking, Scotty noticed that his eyes were keen and he was ready to seize the slightest opportunity to attack him. But Scotty gave him no opportunity. They had been pumping for nearly twenty minutes now. Alan must be ready to come up. “I’m done!” grunted Buck at last. Scotty glared at him threateningly. “You are if you stop that pump!” “I can’t keep going. You can shoot me if you like.” Buck dropped the pump handle as he spoke. Scotty’s eyes flashed fire, lie raised! his gun and pointed' it at Buck’s heart.

“You bet I’ll, shoot! Get hold of that pump handle!” - Buck glowered murderously, but he took hold of the handle again and started pumping. “Ye can tell me where tae get the new line if ye’re too tired tae pump.” “Listen, you runt ! If I knew where to find a line I wouldn’t tell you. Richards is just where I want him now' — and neither you nor anybody else can keep this pump going forever. Sooner or later it’s goin’ to stop—get that?— It’s goin’ to stop—arid then Richards’ll get what’s cornin’ to him!” “Buck!” Scotty’s voice was soft and menacing now. “You got Alan and me intae this mess. If it liadna’ been for yqp we wouldn’t have .needed, tae come through the jungle tae stop ye. Ten per cent wisn’a enough for ye; ye wanted tae steal the lot. Maybe we canna get Alan up again. As you say, the pump’s got tae stop some time—hut when it does—you’re goin’ out!”

Just then the Customs butter swung around the 'headland into the bay, the two feathery wings of spray almost hiding her from sight. Buck saw her first. He dropped the pump handle again in his amazement and stared at it. The cutter was the last boat he wanted to see at the moment. Scotty wheeled around quickly to see what had attracted his attention. He could have whooped for joy. Buck knew on the instant what the cutter had come for. It was no chance cruise. They had called at the trading post and found dope there. He looked wildly around) as though for some means of escape. He might have dived into the water and made an effort to swim ashore, hut after what he had seen happen to Webb he knew it was just suicide, and anyhow, the cutter would pick him up before he had got properly away from the schooner. He was caught. Scotty’s back was turned as he waved to the oncoming cutter. All the ferocity in Buck’s nature came uppermost. He saw Alan getting his pearls after all and heard Scotty taunting him with defeat. At least he could give them something to remember him by. He

aimed a savage blow r across the pump at Scotty, catching him under the ear. At the same time he leaped on him, bearing him to the deck. Scotty was dazed, but unconsciously he held the revolver at the fullest extent of his arm where Buck’s clutching fingers tried to reach it, give his wrist a flick which sent it slithering along the deck. He then concentrated his attention on holding Buck’s face close down near his own, to prevent him getting his punches home. Meantime, the cutter had slowed down to half speed. Jean was standing beside the officer on the bridge. They had seen the struggle on the deck of the schooner, and recognised Scotty. “It’s Buck! He’s fighting with Scotty. He’ll kill him!” The officer turned to the sailors who were standing by. “Get ready to board her!”

The sailors lifted grappling irons, and as the cutter ran alongside of the schooner they gripped the gunwale, and pulled her in dose. Almost before it had stopped the officer was clambering over the schooner’s side and was rushing to the assistance of Scotty.

Buck had Scotty by the hair and was smashing his head on the deck. As the officer approached he tore himself free and made a dive for the revolver, which was lying about three yards away. . . He picked it up and turned, only to run right in to an uppercut from the officer. That was the finish of Buck. The revolver clattered to the deck as he fell. The officer turned his attention to Scotty, who was sitting up groggilv. Jean came up and bent over him.

“Are you alright, Scotty?” she asked.

Scotty shook his head vigorously from side to side to clear his vision. Then his eye caught the pressure guage.

“Alan!” he cried. “He’s down below! The pump somebody—quick!”

“Down below!” echoed Jean “Without air!”

She dived to the pump herself, hut willing hands pushed her aside gently. Soon a plentiful supply of air was being forced clown to Alan. “The line’s been cut!” cried Scotty, rising to his feet and coming toward the side.

Just then Alan shot to the surface: He had made a last desperate effort and had succeeded in throwing the weights from his feet just as the bubbles start-. ed to leave his exhaust tube once more. A little more of the rope ladder was lowered over the side and one of the sailors climbed down to help him aboard. Clutched firmly in his hand was the tin box of pearls he had risked so much to recover.

He staggered slightly when he was brought aboard and had to be supported while his diving suit was removed, but with great draughts of fresh air filling his lungs he came round quickly. He stared at Jean, unbelievingly for a moment; then at the officers and sailors.

“Thank God you’re all right, Alan!” cried Jean, throwing her arms round his neck.

“How did you get here?” asked Alan, bewilderedly. Jean motioned toward the officer and smiled.

“I’m under arrest for being found in charge of premises which were being used for distributing cocaine. They came here after Buck and uncle—where is uncle?” Alan shook his head. He looked around the deck; then his eyes fell on Scotty.

“Scotty!—You’re still alive?” “Only jist!” answered Scotty, grinning.

“But I thought—then who were the sharks—” and then he understood.

“Aye,” muttered Scotty, reading his thoughts. Then lie turned to Jean. “Your uncle met wi’ an accident, Jean.” Jean nodded her head slowly. She had never had any great affection for Webb, but she would have been unnatural indeed had news of his death failed to upset her. Alan, who was gaining strength every minute, put a comforting arm around her. Some time later a happy group were collected forward on the racing cutter's deck. Alan and Jean were standing at the rail looking at the fast receding coastline of Pakema Bay. Alan had an arm around Jean’s waist and he was telling her of Scotty’s and his journey through the jungle. Behind them, the officer was standing, looking ahead. Presently Jean turned and looked at him. “Am I still under arrest?” she asked.

The officer glanced at Alan before replying, and smiled. “I think you are,” he replied. “But not so far as I’m concerned!”

He turned and winked at Scotty and both of them discreetly moved aft.

THE END