EM EM : monthly magazine - 01.09.1941, Qupperneq 30

30
Em Em
"Tori't. j. ve tnea tm i m prac-
t'cally screwy. Pour me anothei
shot of that Scotch."
We found the Andegoyan gun-
boat Juarto cruising about more
or less aimlessly in the approxi-
mate vicinity of the liner’s sink-
ing. She was dragging a grap-
pling hook and, in response to our
hail, reported the Alderbaron stili
unlocated. Hoffman and I went
into the emergency cabin abaft
the bridge, held a consultation
over the chart and set out on our
own.
‘‘The sooner we find her and get
this business over,” I said, “the
sooner we may be able to figure
out an explanation.”
Hoffman grunted. “Yes, and the
sooner we’U get back to Panama.
Ijet’s go.”
The area of shoal water was lim-
ited. While the Juarto cruised
around in circles, retracing her
tracks time and again, Hoffman
put out a grappling hook and be-
gan to make a careful and syste-
matic exploration of the bottom.
At dusk that evening, after only
eight hours of work, the hook
íouled.
“It’s here, all right,” Hoffman
remarked jubilantly. “It can't be
a rock, because the bottom is all
mud. It’s either the Alderbaron
or some other foundered ship."
“Why not haul up your hook
and see what you got?” I sug-
gested.
“A pregnant idea!” He faced aft
and shouted: “Roberts, bend that
line on a winch and haul it up.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
The line was passed around a
winch and hauled to the surface.
The hook brought up a long stretch
of heavy canvas, plainly a section
of deck awning, and Hoffman and
I gave a cheer.
We dropped our anchor in 15
fathoms of water, signaled the
Juarto that we had found the
scuttled liner and secured ship for
the night. There could be no div-
ing until daylight.
Well after daybreak the follow-
ing morning the Juarto drew over
to the scene and prepared to send
down a diver. After considerable
delay, the man went over the side,
while Hoffman and I watched pro-
ceedings from the deck of the de-
stroyer.
A half hour later the tenders on
the Juarto started to haul up their
diver. Considering the depth and
the length of his dive, he was
given a lot more decompression
than was necessary. It was near-
ly noon before they finally got him
to the surface.
*‘S?omethinor tells me.” T said to
ijjick Hoirman, - tnai tnose guys
are stalling.”
“And something teils me,” Dick
said to me, “that you are right.”
I had a boat lowered and was
rowed over to the rust-caked, dingy
gunboat. Captain Huertas, the
short, unkempt, greasy-looking
commander of the Juarto, received
me on the quarterdeck.
Huertas was cordial and patro-
nizing. He was grateful for the
interest the United States navy
was taking in the salvage work.
He was only too glad to co-oper-
ate in every way. He welcomed
the advice of the lieutenant.
But—he showed no inclination
to discuss the findings of his diver!
I stood on the steel deck in the
burning sun, shifting from one foot
to the other, and felt myself grow-
ing as hot under the collar as the
plates under foot. Not even two
years in Andegoya had accustomed
me to the Latin convention of beat-
ing around the bush. I finally de-
manded:
“Well, captain, what did your
diver find below?”
Huertas shook his head with
great sadness and waved his plump
arms in a gesture of resignation.
“I am afraid, lieutenant, eet ees
thees bullion may never be re-
covered.”
“Nonsense!” I snorted. “Of
course it will be recovered. Good
heavens, man! The water is only
90 feet deep.”
“Ah, but you do not know the
deeficulties, lieutenant. The sheep
ees lie on her side.”
“On which side?”
“The port side, lieutenant. The
side on wheech ees locate the pur-
ser’s office and the safe een wheech
ees thees bullion.”
Oh, yes? Some one was lying,
either Huertas or the diver, for I
knew that the liner lay on her
starboard side. She had listed to
starboard when she first started
to go down and had turned that
way when she finally rolled under.
The captain went on, emphasiz-
ing each phase with a graphic ges-
ture. “Thees purser’s office ees
now buried een the mud. Wreck-
age, tangled rigging, danger to the
diver ees everywhere. Oh, we
shall try, lieutenant. Si, si, si! We
shall do everything posseeble.
But—” he shrugged his pudgy
shoulders—“one cannot expect me
to risk the life of my diver to sal-
vage thees bullion. Already too
many lives have been lost in thees
so unfortunate disaster. Eef eet
ees possible, si! Eet shall be done.
But—” Again the fat shoulders
shrugged resignedly.
“Okav. cantain!” I retorted. 'TÖ
go aown myBCii ana xook ovcr uxe
situation.”
“You!” Huertas gasped.
“Nobody else,” I told him, and
tumed to the accommodation lad-
der.
Back aboard the Whipple I founc
Dick Hoffman in the wardroom. 1
must have looked pretty sore, be-
cause Dick asked with a grin:
“Who’s been ruffling your feath-
er, now, big boy?”
“That alleged seaman ovei
there.”
: “Captain Huertas?”
“Yeah.”
“How come?”
“He has the nerve to tell me th<
bullion probably can’t be salvaged.’
“Well, maybe he’s right.”
“Don’t be a sap! Of course ii
can be salvaged. In the first place,
he says the ship is lying on her
port side, with the purser’s cabin
buried in the mud. Aa it happens,
I went down with her and I’ll bet
my next year’s pay that she’s lying
on her starboard side.”
“Why should Huertas lie about
it?”
“Ask me something easy,” I
growled. “Ask me why she was
bcuttled in the first place, for in-
stance. . . . Dick, that Huertas fel-
íow convinced me he doesn’t want
to bring up the bullion. What his
game is I don’t know. But I do
know that the gold is coming up
if I have to bring it up myself."
“More power to you, boy!” Dick
grinned.
“From the looks of things, I’ll
need it.”
* * *
After lunch we dropped a small
kedge anchor, fouled it on the
sunken ship and at 2 that after-
noon I slid down the line. A few
moments later my feet struck
something solid and I brought up
short.
I stood motionless for a time,
while my eyes became accustomcd
to the faint greenish light. Then
I saw that I was standing on the
side of the Alderbaron. The ship
lay almost on her beam ends and
the steel plates under my lead-
soled shoes were nearly horizontal.
Moving slowly ahead, feeling
each step, I came at last to the
ship's rail. I did not attempt to
slide over onto the deck, but moved
along the rail in an effort to de-
termine which way she was lying.
I came at last to the break in
the superstructure and, peering
over the rail, made out the for-
ward hatches. The ship lay just
as I had known I’d find her, on her
starboard side. The purser’s of-
fice, instead of being buried in the
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