AN EERIE PLACE

Dominion, Volume 29, Issue 80, 28 December 1935, Page 16

AN EERIE PLACE

Night Terrors on Cocos Island

I know of an island, set iu the Southern Pacific, where pirate treasure, consisting of gold bars, jewels, and a golden image of the Virgin, stolen from the cathedral of Lima, lies hidden, writes Sir Malcolm Campbell, the world-famous racing motorist. And if any place is haunted it is lonely Cocos Island. The Incas lived there, and since those days the island has seen piracy and murder, and the scheming of men seeking the lost treasure. "Gold and precious stones to the value of over twelve million pounds are secreted on Cocos, deposited in three different places. The bulk is hidden in a cave, and it was this cave that I went to find.

I arrived at Cocos in February, 1926, on a yacht owned by my friend, K. Lee Guinness, and it was just after daybreak that we first saw the island. It has a skyline of harsh, rocky peaks, and its coastline is formed by ugly rocks; morning mist made the whole place seem eerie, and this sensation was heightened when we landed. We used a surf-boat—a rieketty cockleshell of a craft which, when laden, rode with its gunwale barely three inches out of the water. Twelve-foot sharks followed the boat, snapping at our oars. I sat in the stern, ready to use a revolver.

We discovered the ruins of huts which other treasure-seekers had erected. They stood derelict in the thick, tropical undergrowth, and on the bark of a tall palm tree were the names of ships which had visited the island during the past century. The jungle grows right down to highwater mark, and we had to hack our way forward with bush knives. Each night we returned to the yacht, but getting away and landing again was so difficult, and cost so much time, that I decided to camp on shore. Two members of the crew—Elmer and Jackham —volunteered to stay with me. To pitch camp, we had to cut a circle in the heavy undergrowth a few yards clear of the high-water mark. It was impossible to deny the uncanny atmosphere of the island. The air was so close, and the darknes so intense, that one had a sensation of being completely cut off from the world. The very cave we sought was said to hide the bones of one who had been done to death by a treacherous companion. There is a legend that, somewhere in the interior exists the remnants of an Inca colony and, although we found no traces of living men, we did discover paths, terraces, stone ramparts and indications both of the Incas and the pirates who came afterward. Searching the island was dangerous work; there were so many sudden declivities, loose boulders and steep ledges, but there were no snakes, and the only sign of life —apart from birds and insects —was wild pigs. One of them brought Elmer, Packham, and myself a dangerous moment when we were investigating a ledge, at the outer edge of which was a sheer drop of 300 feet.

This boar was huge, with red-rimmed eyes and ugly tusks, and it appeared on a shelf immediately above, running along it and trying to find some way of reaching us. We had with us a small dog, Pinto — a mongrel born aboard ship, and full of real courage. I had to hold him back or he would have tried to get at the animal. Fortunately the boar vanished momentarily into the undergrowth, and we took that chance to bolt; w.e had only our bush knives—now very blunted —and they

were not weapons which could fend off such an attack. This happening may serve to illustrate the courage of Pinto, and give point to what occurred during our second night iu camp. The two men were sound asleep, and I was dozing with Pinto curled up at my side when, suddenly, the dog gave a wild bowl, darting to the tent flap. He stopped there, barking, and, by the light from the fire burning outside, I saw that he was trembling. I grabbed my revolver, shouting to the men, who were already rousing. The three of us crouched, staring outside while Pinto remained at our feet, quivering yapping, and actually foaming at the mouth. He became quiet for a moment, standing with his fangs bared while he gazed into the darkness, and I have never known so uncanny a feeling as that which came to me then. There was nothing to be seen, yet I knew that someone—or something —stood in the fringe of the jungle. We could hear nothing, but something had frightened and alarmed the dog—something of which the courageous animal was so much afraid that he would not venture beyond the tent. The two men seemed to be affected by the same terror, and neither would move. The dog began to bark madly again, and I stepped to the opening of the tent. Pinto’s hair was standing on end, his eyes bulging as he stared straight ahead, and, with the revolver cocked, I went forward, following the direction he indicated. I stopped at the edge of the undergrowth, conscious of a sensation that I was very close to something which was dangerous and unnaturally evil. I stepped into the bushes, my linger on the trigger. If it had been a wild boar, the creature would have attacked ou the instant, but I heard no sound other than Pinto’s barking, which now began to die down to a series of terrified yelps. I searched all around the camp. There was no physical indication of any intruder, and yet, when I returned to the front of the tent, I felt that whatever had come there had now gone away. At daybreak I searched the undergrowth, but found no trace of man or beast.

Next night at the same time—just about midnight—precisely the same thing happened. Once more Pinto gave the alarm,. and again I searched the camp. All the while I had the unpleasant sensation of being in the presence of something unnatural. My search was fruitless. We remained on the island for two nights more, but we were not troubled again, and I have since wondered if it were possible that some scout from the supnosed descendants of the Incas, said to live in the interior, had come down in the darkness to look at us. Yet being spied upon by some human remnant of a long-gone civilisation could scarcely have scared Pinto so much, or have produced so real a sensatiou of fear as that which came to my companions and myself.

I know only that the island is said to be haunted, that ill-fortune attends all who seek its treasure, aud that ill-fortune was finally visited upon us. During our last day on the ishtfid we completely exhausted ourselves as we searched likely places in wllich treasure might be bidden. We feiind nothing, and the day finished with Elmer falling two hundred feet down a rocky slope, so wrenching the muscles and Ifcaments of one leg that he could no loiAer get about.