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About Capital journal. (Salem, Or.) 1919-1980 | View Entire Issue (Nov. 21, 1936)
The Blue Lagoon By Whit Wellman v. cbv, FIVE STAR FICTION mv w Mystery Of Micai Pearls Solved As Johnny Cardnal Returns Home From Quest Of Fathers Secret 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. But 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 aun 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 Torello 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. "Well start tomorrow," he said. Johnny Cardnal found Timothy at early breakfast, the sun strik ing red over the village. Torello served silently, padding around the table. Timothy said, "I've got two divers from the town. To: tillo will work with them." "It's good of you to help." John Cardnal smiled, sitting beside him. "Good for mo," Timothy mut tered. His own pearls, for him self! TWO dugouts were 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 Torello 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 gave orders to Torello. . A hundred yards wide, the la goon was shaped like an aspen leaf, its stem opening into the bay. The boat moved toward the inlet, over the water of a deep basin. Here" Timothy said. FIVE STAR WEF.KLY will not be responsible for any unsolicited manuscripts sub mitted to them, although all due precaution will be taken that they will not be lost. ABOUT .9T 1 ' 4 A CLOccko radiator meant a hot motor Engine efficiency it rained. Costly trouble often results. Iti so easy to keep the radiator clean and free of ruat and sediment, Sanl Flush removei sludge and lime depos lu . . keep the water running freely and the motor running cool. Use tomt Sani'Hnshyourtelf, for ten cents. Pom some In the radiator (directions on the ran). Run the motor. Drain. Fluh. Refill with dean water. Pant-Flash la safe. Cannot harm aluminum bead, block or motor finings. Clean radiators regularly, twice a year. You'll find Snl-Huh In most bathrooms for cleaning toilet bowl. Sold by grocery, drug, hardware, and fire4ndteivrent stores 25c and 10c lies. The Hygienic Products Com pany. Canton, Ohio. Sim-Hush A6I MX The dugouts came close togeth er, Torello fastened them end to end, making a shadow on the sur face, and let them drift Johnny Cardnal leaned over the side. "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, and a short knife stuck through 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, senor!" 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 lagoon in my time. Torello. what did you see ?" Torello's face was blank. A clean ship's deck, he said, 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 yards." Hopefully, they paddled away from the coral reef. Torello and the native of the other dugout Children's Folk Tales Drawing by Dorothy Baylcy from Mind The House", included in By Joan "Stories to Shorten the Road" by Kffie Power (K. P. Dutton ft Co.) MISS Power has gathered to gether in one volume 16 folk talcs of many lands Sweden, Norway. Czechoslovakia, England, and Ireland. They are old, old stories that children have loved for generations, but most of them are 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 tlnirs of The Old Man Vsevede." Perhaps the most delightful story of the entire 16 is the one entitled "Murdoch's Rath," a tale of Irish origin. It concerns Pat, than whom there was no nicer boy in all Ire land, "But from his cradle he had learned nothing ... so when he came to years of discretion he earned his living by running mes sages for his neighbors. And Pat could always be trusted to make the best of a bad bargain and bring bark 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. He had, there fore, to carry his shoes in his pocket and wear them in town only, for ha had only on pair and running errands is hard on shoe leather. "Here . . .", Timothy said. The and let 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. Charming Reviewed "The Man Who Was Going To "Stories To Shorten the Road." Rogers NE night on the way home Va from town Pat took the wrong turn and found himself at Murdoch's Rath. There he saw the fairies dancing, and forget ting the wear and tear on his brogues, Pat took to dancing with them. He danced and danced until his feet were 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 Pat furze-blossoms for luck and they turned into gold. Now Pat told this marvelous tale 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 and 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, and they say that, wom out, the avaricious cobbler still dances from sunrise to sunset round Murdoch's Rath. "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. dugouts came closer together. Torello fastened them end to end, making a shadow on the surface, them drift. Johnny Cardnal leaned over the side. "What can you see?" "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 spoke.' He sipped whiskey and soda, told of the yel low pearls of Panama. He'd worked with a pearl fishery bock 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 take the visitor's bags to the beach. "We've done everything but drain the lagoon," the boy said. "If it wasn't for mother, I wouldn't care. I've got to take care 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'a son. The boy had meant John Cardnal to him, someone sent after pearls by a dead man Timothy didn't WBnt to re member. He'd been mistaken. The girl was alive, and her son wanted to take rare of her. Alone in a strange country, she must love the boy. Torello padded in, clearing the table, filling Timothy's empty glass. "Well take a last look before breakfast," Timothy said. "SI." Torello pointed to the ceiling. "He will go?" "Yea, on the steamer. If we're early at the lagoon, w might . ." He knew it waa hopeless to search the blue floor of weeds and sand, but it was hard to have failed. In the last week hii plans 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 hand 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. "Torello, you damned fool!" Torello said softly, "In the dawn of the day he comes, I get dugout, go down. The senor spcal of pearls before the white boat comes . . When boat comes, the senor not like stranger. I watch from kitchen. When he smile and talk, you hate him, no? Many morning before sun up, 1 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." "Torellolsencr?" "I can't get along without a nurse, fool." At breakfast, Timothy said, "I'm going with you. Need change." He ate quickly, there were things to do before the proeeaa, hoth SO SILK TOiACCO POUCH 9mmalmtfw4 rife tmm s iwiSi ftm vm mm 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 elation. The hours on the la goon hadn't done him any good, but there'd be no more of that. Kent 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 tlesh 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 inal's bags stood beside it A large sealed box of Timothy's belong ings was carried down the beaoh 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 Can yon moke your pipe all the way to the b eeland enjoy erea the last pnflfT No? Then twitch to that new tobacco sen aatioB Edgworth Junior, Ita a special cat that $Utyt aieeet right down to the laat puff In the heel of your pipe. Another big point: it i Blrnea to 1936 cigarette mUUL nose. Try H today! Notice i There's an Edgeworth today for every smoker Edgeworth Ready-Rub hod and Pfag Slice for the steady pipe aaoair, and Edgeworth Junior a different cot and for the man who smoke. pip mmd cigi r 1W M w S2Araa7 sta. ing around the secret of his new life. "Your steamer looks fast, Cap tain. How long do you make ft to port?" CLARKSON muttered some thing vague. The motor launch was chugging back to the beach. It was hard to look around at the village. Timothy stared and turned away. The same town. nomeiiK ami .tin, uuuisiuruvu vj 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 his 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 w.a old, suddenly, remembering that, her sweet face would be as worn as his own. "Go along, Captain. I'm not coming with you." "The devil you're not!" Clark son exclaimed. "You change as 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 do that. You want another case of White Horse next trip?" "Same as always. Captain." Clrrkson stepped into the launch, which immediately backed away. "Tell him," Timothy called, "for his mo. her . . ." 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 thoir 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 accustomo.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. Timothy shaded his eyes, pulling down the palm hat Torello was racing to ward the surf with long strokes. He splashed through the shallow 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 assirn M ,: ,, i .... V mi prayer ib au rne worm s and mine. Klptin:i-Mhg ut Kablr. Is there never a chink in the world above Where they listen for words from below ? inn Inflow giipprr tt tin UiU. God warms his hands at man's heart when he prays. Ilatcfittd Widow in Ui By Strtft i-, 15 a f am KCIAt INTRODUCTORY OFF! u" C. fHapi.O). M,MI. Ya ' 1. and mm I iili whjta Kr.m rprr trm m Mm af Mowarth Hpa Uk (abate pmnm. (Omtr ana M a Paa. SI, f.Ji
