"THE NEW WORLD."

Auckland Star, Volume LXI, Issue 187, 9 August 1930, Page 3 (Supplement)

"THE NEW WORLD."

(By AMfRED ANSLEY.J

All the world knew of the great discoveries of Malcolm Attcnbridge and all the civilised nations respected the greatness of the man. There were few who did not talk of bis wonderful journey through the hitherto unexplored heart of Africa in the winter of 1913; the memory of his crossing of the Sahara Desert in the July of 1912 was still fresh in all minds, and the new feat brought the acclamations of geographical societies, and the hero-worshipping public from 20 "different countries in 20 various languages. Fame was his; the world lay 'conquered at his feet, but still he was not satisfied. An extraordinary voyage up the great Amazon River and the further explorations of Southern America followed, until the disastrous news of the loss of his expedition burst upon the newspapers of the world. But Attenbridge was not dead, for three months later a rescue party found him wandering in dense jungle bush, a revolver in his hand and a faithful native guide by his side. All the terrors of the littleknown jungle he had experienced —fever, snakes, wild animals, dense undergrowth, impenetrable groves, swamp, creeping horrors, cannibal hunters—and he alone survived out of the brave party of 60 enthusiasts who had set out seven months before on a trip they believed would be a revelation to the geographical circles. Out of the fatal voyage came Attenbridge —alone, and the first words he said to his rescuers were: "I'm going back sooji to find the new world." A marvelling public clamoured for more when this startling announcement was flashed abroad, but Attenbridge would say nothing to anyone, except to his backers and his friend, Wallace Randall.

The scene is a warm, cosy little club room with a roaring fire lighting up the corners with a flickering glow. Outside a London fog fills the streets with a dark mantle of heavy, oppressive atmosphere. The only thing to be seen from the room is a faint light from a street corner lamp, a few feet from the closed windows. There are two men in the room, one a big, broad-shouldered chap with a regular-featured face; the other, a short, spare man, his skin tanned to a deep golden brown, his eyes a-very mild blue and his thin dips compressed to the lines that denote aggressiveness, determination and fighting will. The first man described is Wallace Randall, a millionaire, and well-known business fir-aneier; the second man is the famous explorer, Captain Attenbridge, known wherever the advancement of science and discovery is discussed. Attenbridge is speaking: "So you see, Randall, I must go back. There must be something in what the natives told me and I'm going to follow the clues to the bitter end. If I find my new world—l shall have done what I have lived for. You know, Randall, I believe we are all sent to earth to do- something and I have a feeling that my duty is to find this new world and throw it open to modern civilisation. I might seem crazy, talking of this to anybody but you, but, of course, you know me and my ways and you understand what life is worth to me. My sole interest is in discovery and the progress of exploration, and I

cannot conceive of a greater boost to the subject than that of finding a world hitherto lost to .the civilised nations and unknown to humanity as we define it to-day. The germ is in my blood and if it's the last thing Ido lll'find that new world."

The other man removed a pipe from his mouth to speak. "H'rn. You've got it badly," he remarked, "but I'll sec you through. You can start on your expedition right away so far as I'm concerned, and I don't mind telling you that I'd like to go 'with you."

"You can if you want to," cried Attenbridge joyously, "and I'm jolly pleased you've agreed to my plans. I suppose you'll see to the international passports, will vou?"

"Yes. certainly I will, old chap," replied Randall rising, a Heeling shadow of a frown Hitting over his rugged face. '•But let me tell you this," he added pensively, "with Germany kicking at France and a war brewing in Europe, it will be jolly hard to fix them."

That scene was enacted on a night in the year 1914, and the next scene of our little drama was in the same place on a bright morning eight days later. The door of the apartment opened and Attenbridge and Randall entered, dressed in morning attire. A worried look had settled on Randall's usually smiling face and his friend wore the same unscrutable mask, which hid his true feelings from the curious world. "Well," sighed Randall, stretching his limbs, "we've been and done it —as the Cockney says— and all of my worldly wealth I leave behind me."

Attenbridge laughed and looked out of the window on to the bright, sunlit street. "I must say it was harder for me to give up my exploration for the new world than it was for you to give up your wealth," he remarked, "but after all, it's our duty to our King, country and Empire, and you know 'England expects,' and all that sort of rot."

"We're soldiers now," said Randall, "in the pay of our country and upon us rests the task of freeing poor troddendown France from beneath the heel of the Hun. Ha, ha! seems like a patriotic novel, doesn't it, old boy?" There was no reply to his laughing remark and lie lifted his head to see his companion still gazing out into the sunshine, a deep, faraway look in the still, blue eyes. "What is it?" he asked. "Are you sorry you've signed up now? I know it's an awful d:\sappointment to you to lose your chance of finding the new world, but there'll be plenty of time for that after the war," and he tossed off a whisky and soda. Attenbridge never moved his eyes from the window as he repeated, very slowly: "Yes, after—the war." "Come on, rhc-er up, old chap," murmured the other effusively. "You've talked enough about your new world. Forge* it a while and let's enjoy this scrap! You never leave off telling me about the wonderful place you are going to find and what you're going to do so for heaven's sake give it a rest now. Here's your health!" Attenbridge took the proffered glass and holding it up, he cried: "Here's a toast!" "A toast," echoed Randall. "To the new world!" cried the explorer and, drinking his whisky, broke the glass to pieces, while Randall looked on in curious wonderment.

In the front line at X— in the summer of 1915 was a well-known officers' mess called "The Tea Party." Imagine yourself transported to France to a dark, smelly dugout, rank with the mingled fumes of earth, tobacco smoke and recently-cooked bacon. Here we find Captains A tten bridge and Randall,, seated at a rough wooden table poring over a worn and tattered field map. "I'll take my n«cn here," Attenbridge said, pointing to a dark spot on the map, "and direct the raid into the enemy Irenches. It will all be over in about five minutes, so you'll have the company ready to retaliate and counteract any attack that may follow."

"T understand," ejaculated Captain Randall.- "Is that all?' - •'Well—" murmured Attenbriage,. and coiighedttiervoiisly. '-Well—it's usual for chaps going on a raid to leave their possessions" behind, but I haven't any and besides there's mi one to send them too—but, all the same, Wallace (and Randall gulped audibly, for his friend had nev.er spoken like this before) 1 would like to tell you that I have given up all hope of finding the new world. You see, after all the nights I've spent out here, thinking, thinking all the time, I'vo decided it was only a fool's dream. There's nothing much to be discovered on the earth, and —oh, hang it all! You know what I mean?" Randall nodded dumbly and his friend went on. "I guess that there's only one new world that is beyond mortal ken and I can't find that." He laughed nervously and glanced at his watch. "It ! s time now, Randall," he announced brusquely.

"Good-bye for the present," and he offered his hand. Randall took it blindly and murmured, "Good-bye and good luck," then averting his head: "Oh! for Cod's sake come back, man, and we'll find the new world together!" The other smiled, and, taking his revolver from its case, left the dugout. Outside the raiding party awaited his coming. "You know your orders, men?" he asked them. "Wait until the Verey light goes up then count ten and rush for the breach in the wire. You know what to do then. Well, are you ready? Thirty seconds to go." The second hand on his watch moved ever so slowly in those tense few*moments. All of the men were alert, ready to act on the signal, but their thoughts were with those at home. Ten seconds to go—would they come back to see their folks again? Oh, the time they took to send up that Verey light! Five seconds—there was a sudden swish and the countryside around was lit up with a ghostly green light, showing all the scars of war, the criss-cross wires and—the trenches beyond. A sickening apprehension—then,

"Go to it, boys!" And over the top they went. It might have been murder, for before they had gone ten paces, a rat-a-tat-tat of machine grins started. With a muttered oath, • their captain rallied them and they pressed on—nearer, nearer to their objective. Then came the sudden explosion. For a moment it looked as if a furnace itself had opened its jaws for them and the blazing fires were licking at their feet. Stumbling, Attenbridge, the great explorer, the fearless adventurer, threw up his hands and, falling, fell flat on his face; for him this was the journey's end. He' had attained his destination and was content that his heart's desire was satisfied, for in falling he had reached his —new world!