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About Roseburg news-review. (Roseburg, Or.) 1920-1948 | View Entire Issue (Nov. 21, 1936)
. ROSEBURG NEWS-REVIEW. ROSEBURG. OREGON. $ATt!RpAY,. NOVEMBER 2U?36. The Blue Lagoon Mystery Of Micai Pearls Solved As Johnny Cardnal Returns Home From Quest Of Fathers Secret , FIVE STAR FICTION w By Whit Wellman Part II , (Conclusion) JOHNNY Cardnal moved un easily. "Father told me about you," he said. "You and mother. Mother is in San Francisco, alone. Father didn't leave her anything, Mr Harden. She has one black pearl, worth a lot, I guess. Hut she won't part with it. Even when he needed money badly, she wouldn't sell it." "She knows you came here?' Timothy's voice grew harsh. "No, I couldn't tell her. She wouldn't let me come." Timothy filled his glass again, his hands shaking a little. "Bet ter have a drink," he said. But the boy refused. The room grew darker as the sun fell. There wasn't much dusk in that part of the world no mar gin of half-light between day and night. Timothy raised his glass. He could find the pearls and go home to the States. To San Francisco and Carmel, who hadn't forgotten. She still wore his gift. He'd get Torcllo to go into the lagoon. It would be good to begin life again with the girl he'd loved. He didn't owe John Cardnal any thing, or his son, who now sat studying him, strangely sure that Timothy Harden would send div ers down for him.' Timothy recog nized that Micai was dead, that he'd been dying with It. Pearls from the Tiger Head lagoon would take him into the world again, where Carmel lived. "We'll start tomorrow," he said. Johnny Cardnal found Timothy at early brcakfaat, the sun strik ing red over the village. Torcllo served silently, padding around the table. Timothy said, "I've got two divers from the town. Tc ::llo will work with them." "It's good of you to help." John Cardnal smiled, sitting beside him. "Good for me," Timothy mut tered. His own pearls, for him self! TWO dugouts wore drawn up in the lagoon, a few natives grouped about them. Timothy called two of the men for the smaller dugout, and stepped into the larger one with Torcllo and the boy. "You won't need the map," Ti mothy said, as Johnny Cardnal spread it on the bottom. "If you know, without " "Just inside the natural break water. The spray coming over the reef hits the spot. Down in that dark blue patch." He gavo orders to Torello. A hundred yards wide, the la goon was shaped like an aspen leaf, Its stem opening into the hay. The boats moved toward the inlet, over the water of a deep basin. "Here" Timothy said. FIVE STAR WEEKLY will not be responsible fur any unsolicited manuscripts sub mitted to them, althoiich all due precaution will be taken that they will not he lost. abW il19'(" 5 The duguuu came close togetu er, Torellu fastened them end to end, making a shadow on the sur face, and let them drift. Johnny Cardnal leaned over the Bide. "Careful. You'll tip us out.'' Timothy warned. "What can you see?" "Don't have to see anything! The divers can see enough when they get down, if you don't spill the dugout." A yellow cloth about his middle, und a short knife stuck througlt it, Torello stood ready to dive. He threw overboard a weighted bas ket attached to a stout cord. The basket came to a stop thirty feet below. Torello dove after it. Tiny, steady bubbles drifted up. One of the natives in the second boat followed Torello. JOHNNY CARDNAL studied his map. "I don't think we're right, Mr. Harden. My map indi cates " . "Be quiet, will you? I knew this lagoon before your father thought of a map." It wasn't easy to re member a shell bed that long. But before he'd touch the boy's map . . . His memory, Torello's hands, those were sufficient. Torello, gasping, clung to the edge of the dugout. He grinned, taking in the air, resting. The na tive from the other boat broke the surface. It was deep, they could not stay down long. Timothy asked, "You found the place?" "No luck, senorl" Torello shook his head. No shells of merit in habited that spot. "It is the place, but empty . . ." "We can use the map, Mr. Har den," Johnny said. . Timothy muttered, "It was ex actly here. I can't be off very far. They haven't been taken from the lngoon in my time. Torello. what did you sec?" Torello's face was blank. A clean ship's deck, he suid, was like the floor of the lagoon. Some broken shells, thrown back years ago. Weeds, small fish . . . "We'll go in toward shore twen ty yurds." Hopefully, they puddled away from the coral reef. Torello and the native of the other dugout "Here Timothy said. The dugouts came-closer together. Torello fastened them end to end, making a shadow on the surface, and let them drift. Johnny Cardnal leaned over the side. "What can you see?" went down again and again. Tor ello bobbed up, grinning, sputter ing. "No luck, senor!", and dis appeared. The dugouts moved in a circle which contracted until a fifty yard area had been covered. NOON, and a merciless sun drove them from the water. Timothy was silent, saying only that they would return. He knew valuable shell had been there, and -he felt queer about it In the cool shelter of the con sulate, Johnny Cardnal asked use less questions. Torello served lunch as the boy flung sugges tions. "Tomorrow," Timothy said. "We'll take the map and use it!" "Look at it now!" Timothy placed his finger on the cross marking the stem of the lagoon. Children's Charming Folk Tales Reviewed Drawing by Dorothy Baylcy from "The Man Who Was Going To Mind The House", included in "Stories To Shorten the A ci.occ.t) r nil till or menu a hot motor. En pi tie rfKrienry it ruined. CoMly trouble often result. It's ao eny to keep the rnd.nl or rlenn mid free of rill and sediment. Snni Flush removes sludge and lime do pus 111 . . . keeps the water running freely and the motor running con). ( nmxa &mlFluh yourself, for ten rents. Tour tome in the radiator (direction on the ran). Hun the motor. Drain. Htnli. Krfill with clean water. Srtn.Klnh U nfe. Cannot harm aluminum he.nl, block or motor tittinRt. Clran radiators rea:itlrlv, twice a Knr. You'll find Snni-Fht). in niot th rooms for fteanins: toilet ImwU, Sold br merry, drug, linrdnnre. and fiveand-ten-cent stores 2Sr and Mc fiies. The Hygienic Products Com puny, Canton. Ohio, Sam-Flush MIPS RADIATOR! GLIAN "Stories to Shorten the Road" by Kffte Tower (K. P. Dutton & Co.) MISS Power has gathered to gether in ono volume 15 folk tales of many lands Sweden, Norway, Czechoslovakia, Kngland, and Ireland. They are old, old stories that children have loved for generHtions, but most of them nro told in a charming new way. The most familiar old favorites included are "The Man Who Was Going To Mind the House." "Hans Who Made the Princess Laugh," "Jack the Giant Killer," and "The Three Golden Hairs of The Old Man Wevedc." Perhaps the most delightful story of the entire 15 is tho one entitled "Murdoch's liuth," a tale nf Irish origin. It concerns Pat, than whom there was no nicer boy in all Ire land, "Hut from his cradle he had learned nothing . , , so when he fame to years of discretion he earned his living hy running mes sage!! for his neighbors. And Pat could always he trusted to make the host of a bad bargain and bring back all the change, for he was the soul of honesty and good nature." So Pat was loved by everyone and got all the work he could do, but not much pay. Vie had, there fore, to carry his shoes in hit pocket and wear them in town only, for he had only one pair and running errands is hard on hoe leather. By Joan Rogers NE night on the way home wrong turn and found himself at Murdoch's Kath. There he saw the fnirics dancing, and forget ting tho wear and tear on his brogues, Pat took to dancing with them. Ho danced and (lanced until his feet wero sore and he wore out his shoe leather. The fairies lent him magic shoes that made his feet feathers for lightness and Pat was home in a twinkling. And along with the shoes, the fairies gave Tat furze-blossoms for luck and they turned into gold. Now Pat told this marvelous talo to the cobbler of the town, and the cobbler, a greedy man, went to dance with the fairies too. He wore out his shoes and borrowed a pair. And he took what he wanted instead of what he was given ind the jewels he got turned into pebbles. And he played a trick on the fairies and didn't return the marvelous brogues he had borrowed. So for his pains and his greed the fairies let him keep the magic dancing shoes, nnd they say that, worn out, the avaricious cobbler still dances from sunrise to ty'nset round Murdoch's Kath. "Stories to Shorten the Road" is a delightful collection, charm ingly Illustrated by Dorothy Bay ley, and should prove fascinating to children of almost any age. "We spent the morning there!" "The tide may have drifted the shell, Mr. Harden. Or, someone else must have known about it ..." Timothy talked through the af ternoon, trying to think what was wrong as he speke. He sipped whiskey and soda, told of the yel low pearls of Panama. He'd worked with a pearl fishery back in one of the early years, he'd gone down for shell himself. Pure white pearls came mostly from Ceylon, and pink pearls from around the West Indies. You didn't often make a fortune, but wages were good, and it was ex citing. He was surprised to find that searching the Tiger Head lagoon had brought back the old restlessness . . . Not a lust for riches, but a new expectation of freedom. As he talked he thought of San Francisco. Fog, north winds, Carmel Laveaga. "How many colors do you find?" the boy asked. His glow ing eyes were fascinated. "As many as there are in a rainbow. You find some in clams, occasionally . . . They're not proud, the purple and light blue pearls." He went on until dinner time, to keep Johnny Cardnal quiet. For the finest, you went to Thursday Island, or the west coast of Australia, or the Persian Gulf. He'd been there. "Got plenty without a map," he said. JOHN CARDNAL'S son finally went up to bed. 'Tomorrow," Timothy said ev ery night. For weeks he had repeated it. They had swept the lagoon with the dugouts and the diving boys, but the shell was not located. Stubbornly he kept them at it, refusing to dismiss his dreams. With luck, he could give comfort, wealth, to. the girl with olive throat and eyes like the boy's who had come to Micai. Clarkson's steamer was due in the morning, gleaming white, puffing smoke, Torello would tnke the visitor's bags to the beach. "We've done everything but drain the lagoon," the boy said. 'If it wasn't for mother, 1 wouldn't care. I've got to take are of her, but there'll be other ways." , "Your mother wears a black pearl?" "She always wears it, I think she keeps it on when she goes to sleep." Johnny Cardnal stood up and stretched. "I'm off in the morning, Mr. Harden. And I want to say you've done all you could " "Good night," Timothy said. He hadn't thought of the boy as Car mel's son. The boy had meant John Cardnal to him, someone sent after pearls by a dead man Timothy didn't want' to re member. He'd been mistaken. The girl was alive, and her son wanted to take care of her. Alone in a strange country, she must love the boy, Torello padded in, clearing the table, filling Timothy's empty glass. "We'll take a last look before breakfast," Timothy said. "SI." Torello pointed to the celling. "He will go?" "Yes, on the steamer. If we're early at the lagoon, we might . . ." He knew it was hopeless to search the blue floor of weeds and sand, but it was hard to hive failed. In the las week hit plant had shaped. He'd wiped away the shoddy boarding house, and saw a great white home on a hill over looking San Francisco Bay. A wide drive, a green, rolled stretch of grass. He saw himself sitting in the garden in his bamboo chair, waiting for the carriage. It drove up, and a girl called to him. "To look more is not good." Torello said. "No shell is there." "I know it, fool. Haven't we proved it?" . "The young senor he goes?" Satisfied at Timothy's nod, Tor ello grinned, went to the fireplace. He reached above his head and pulled out a loose brick. His hand slid into the opening. A small, plump sack came from it, which he gave to Timothy. THE sack fell to the table. The cloth broke, spilled a hend ful of black and gray gems. Sev eral were large, magnificent spe cimens. "Why did you do it?" Timothy, asked sharply. He leaned over the table, gathering the pearls which rolled to the edge. "Torcllo, you damned fool!" Torello said softly, "In the dawn of the day he comes; I get dugout, go down. The senor speal of pearls before the white boat comes . . . When boat comes, the senor not like stranger. I watch from kitchen. When he smile nnd talk, you hate him, no? Many moming before sun up, I work in lagoon. Night time I open shell." ' "You thought I didn't want to find these?" "You think to give to him, sen or. These yours." Timothy muttered in relief. "Pack everything I have, Torello. Pack anything you want yourself. We're going north with Clarkson." "Torello, sencr?" "I can't get along without a nurse, fool." At breakfast, Timothy said, "I'm going with you. Need a change." He ate quickly, there were thing's to do before " the steamer . came. He'd keep quiet about the pearls, take them north himself ... do for Carmel La veaga what Johnny Cardnal had planned. He drank his coffee hur riedly. THE boy looked at him curious ly. "That's fine," he said. Pushing back his chair, Timothy was aware of weariness and of a new e'ation. The hours on the la goon hadn't done him any good, but there'd be no more of that. Heat drained the vitality of a man, and he'd soon be away. Tired or not, he began to feel comfort ably young again. What if his flesh was soft here and there? The tropics did that to anyone, and he was glad to leave. With Cardnal in his grave, there was nothing to hold him in Micai. He'd rend in his resignation from San Francisco, and a government clerk would stop sending checks to the village. Timothy's worn suit case, strapped carefully, was ready for Clarkson's launch. Johnny Card nal's bags stood beside it. A large sealed box of Timothy's belong ings was carried down the beach by four natives. In it were curios, native implements, a collection of Indian knives, a silver bell from an old church. , Timothy called out as Clarkson landed: "I'm going north with you!" "Old town won't be the same," Clarkson laughed, "Be away long?" "Forever." He said to Torello, "Put in what the boat can carry, and come back for the rest of it. The box goes last. You, Johnny, go with Torello." "I'll see you aboard, Mr. Har den." The boy climbed into the motor launch. Clarkson and Timothy watched the boat meet the steamer, Torello and Johnny Cardnal go up the rope ladder. The sack of pearls was heavy in Timothy's pocket, seemed to weigh him down. His hand sought the bag, fingers clos ing around the secret of his new life. "Your steamer looks fast, Cap tain. How long do you make 't to port?" CLARKSON muttered some thing vague. The motor launch was chugging back to tha beach. It was hard to look around at the village. Timothy stared and turned away. The same town, homelike and still, undisturbed by change, impossible, before the vis itor had come, to think of sailing with Clarkson, Now his blood raced, a little, slowly at first, then surging, beating in hit throat. The boat scraped the sand, and Clarkson waved him aboard. "Ready? Then we're off!" "Wait," Timothy said. There was something unnatural, childish, about his going with Clarkson. Like a youth reaching out for ad venture, careless and confident of new countries and people. Micai had done that to him, made him unsure of everything but what he . knew. The sleepy days, the. sprawling village, had sapped his strength. Making up his mind to go had been more of an effort than he'd known, and it had left him tired. Remaining, he would live again with the illusion, the image of a girl's face. He was old, suddenly, remembering that her tweet face would be as worn as hit own. "Go along, Captain. I'm not coming with you." "The devil you're not!" Clark son exclaimed. "You change at fast as a woman " "But no faster," Timothy mur mured. She wouldn't want to see him, old and fat. He took the sack of pearls from his pocket. "Give these to the boy. Tell him they're for his mother." "I'll Jo that. You want another case of White Horse next trip?" "Same as always, Captain." Clarkson stepped into the launch, which immediately backed away. "Tell him," Timothy called, "for his mother . . ." The sound of the launch blurred his words. TIMOTHY walked up the curved rise of the sand, his body erect and straight. Then his broad shoulders sagged to thir slight stoop. He caught himself, brought them square. A few yards more and he forgot about it, content ing himself with getting nearer to the shadow of the consulate. A sense of peace and accustom?, I ness came to Timothy, he was alone again, safe. At the top of the beach, he turned to see the mail steamer churn its way north, move stead ily past the white foam of Tiger Head. A small figure ran to the rail and dove overboard: Timo'hy shaded his eyes, pulling down tiie palm hat. Torello was racing to ward the surf with long strokes. He splashed through the shall :iw. and came panting up the wet bor der of sand. The End My brother kneels, so saith Kabir, To stone and brass in heathen wise, But in my brother's voice I hear My own unanswered agonies, His God is as his fates assign His prayer is all the world's and mine. Ki-.lii,: s..i ! Kabir. Is there never a chink in the world above Where they listen for words from below '.' J,.n Inflow Srmm at th. Kill. God warms his hands at man's heart when he prays. Maacfjeld Widow in the Uje Street Can yon smoke your pipe all the way lo the heel and enjoy even the last puff? Wo? Then switch to that new tobacco sen mtonEdgevorth Junior, It's a special cut that stays street right down to the last puff In the heel of your pipe. Another big point i it matched to 1936 cigantte mild' nets. Try It today! Nolicri There's an Edge worth today for every smoker Edgewnrlh ReadyRubbrd and Plug Slice for the for.v pip smofcer, and Edgrwntih Junior, a different cat and proceaa, for the man who smoke m both pipm and eigtmtt. j It iia SPECIAL (NTRODUCrORr OFFER 'T'.'LU'T f "! ). Rl.-h.Mmd. Vi SO, SILK TOBACCO POUCH 1 0? " J m tasltia) wait f rW Snta Its of tmm Ik rwtwth Jnlar. Wi airWi ttWM ffi- 1 SMtoUtHpwl Mlk fMMarfcM J M ill m try I ' tW mm Afw(k mm. OSW g 4 Jy SO W I Q7- tmtm ik( 'Miurpm V HSfM m ssm rift 1 nt,m wlr tW.t,h rw fl f, PAGE SIX
