Pirate Treasure

Southland Times, Issue 22915, 13 June 1936, Page 22 (Supplement)

Pirate Treasure

VERY HIGHLY COMMENDED. Low and slanting, the sun’s rays rested on the low island, once a sinister place where volcanoes burst and erupted every twenty-four hours, a place of which all were afraid. For years now, it had been silent, the dead black lava was cold now, and hard, but nothing grew there, it was black and dead. Men had shunned it, and hated it. They feared it too, for many times it had been said that one day it would burst again and kill many people, but in the years of its silence, it had been the lair of desperate pirates, men cruel and ruthless as the island itself could be, and that island had been the place of terrible deeds. None dared to hunt out the band in its fastnesses, but with the passing years, the terror had faded somewhat and men were whispering strange rumours. Rumours of gigantic treasure stores spread, and men became fired with the desire to visit it. “Pirate Treasure,” strange words. So the rumours grew until Rugged, and sharp, and bare, as those last, low rays outlined it, that grim dark island rose, sinister foreboding. So sullen, so dark, that the crew of the yacht which had at last come questing the treasure, became afraid, and steered away again. Then, as the sun plunged down behind the island, they steered in again and went on. They dared not take the yacht too

close, for fear of rocks but when they deemed it wise to stop the yacht, they went on in motor boats carrying with them a portable wireless set, but as they grew nearer a feeling of awe grew greater than their fear, for it was indeed a striking spectacle. All had left the yacht because none wished to be left alone, and as they reached the island they were glad to be in numbers. The lava had hardened into the shape of great castles and fortresses, but it was completely barren. As soon as it was possible, they picked up a station, and sent out a wireless message to say that they had arrived. They set out on a tour of exploration and in a few-minutes had completely lost sight of the sea behind a huge buttress of rock. For perhaps a quarter of an hour they wandered about until the increasing darkness warned them to depart. But as they came out from the shelter of the rock, the wind was so strong that it was only by clinging together that they could fight their way to the sea. The great breakers were thundering on the beach and the men cursed the impulse that had led them to explore. It was impossible to reach the yacht, for t their boat was gone.

They had a small supply of food with them, but that would not last long, and the darkness had grown intense. Strange and terrible sounds filled the night and the men crouched together

in the most sheltered spot they could find to try to sleep. It was a terrible night, but towards morning the storm grew less, and at about nine o’clock the sun broke through and the gaunt, weary men gazed out to sea, but their yacht had disappeared. However they had brought the wireless ashore, together with such tools as they deemed they would require for treasure hunting. After a scanty breakfast they wirelessed their plight to a home station and set out to seek the treasure. The question which had not entered theit heads till the moment was, where to look. It was not until late afternoon, that, weary and dispirited they were scrambling up a deep rock valley and by purest chance they struck the ancient ruins of the pirate camp in a terraced cleft running up the side of the great rock pinacle. Here, at last was some goal to start from, and their hopes revived, After a long search they discovered a cave, and in it, golden treasure. But exhaustion forced them to rest after the news had been wirelessed home, and they built a large fire in the biggest driftwood hut and rested. Next day, fresh ships arrived and streams of adventurers arrived. Hundreds of them, spread in a wave over the island, for the time the old warning forgotten, “some day it will burst again” and then it happened The old volcano burst again, and streams of red hot lava poured, hissing and steaming, down the great rock buttresses. A few escaped, but many were killed and the treasure buried for ever. “Pirate treasure” was once more a myth that men would yearn and die for, and the island once again was a land of terror and of death. —3 marks to Cousin Isabel McKenzie (14), Dipton.