The War Terror by Arthur B. Reeve - HTML preview

The Sunken Treasure

"Get story Everson and bride yacht Belle Aventure

seeking treasure sunk Gulf liner Antilles."

Kennedy and I had proceeded after a few leisurely days in St. Thomas to Porto Rico. We

had no particular destination, and San Juan rather appealed to us as an objective point

because it was American.

It was there that I found waiting for me the above message by wireless from the Star in

New York.

San Juan was, as we had anticipated, a thoroughly Americanized town and I lost no time

in getting around at once to the office of the leading newspaper, the Colonial News. The

editor, Kenmore, proved to be a former New York reporter who had come out in answer

to an advertisement by the proprietors of the paper.

"What's the big story here now?" I asked by way of preface, expecting to find that

colonial newspapermen were provincial.

"What's the big story?" repeated Kenmore, impatiently pushing aside a long leader on

native politics and regarding me thoughtfully. "Well, I'm not superstitious, but a

honeymoon spent trying to break into Davy Jones's locker for sunken treasure--I guess

that's a good story, isn't it?"

I showed him my message and he smiled. "You see, I was right," he exclaimed. "They're

searching now at the Cay d'Or, the Golden Key, one of the southernmost of the Bahamas,

I suppose you would call it. I wish I was like you. I'd like to get away from this political

stuff long enough to get the story."

He puffed absently on a fragrant native cigar. "I met them all when they were here,

before they started," he resumed, reminiscently. "It was certainly a picturesque outfit--

three college chums--one of them on his honeymoon, and the couple chaperoning the

bride's sister. There was one of the college boys- -a fellow named Gage--who fairly made

news."

"How was that?" inquired Kennedy, who had accompanied me, full of zest at the prospect

of mixing in a story so romantic.

"Oh, I don't know that it was his fault--altogether," replied Kenmore. "There's a young

lady here in the city, the daughter of a pilot, Dolores Guiteras. She had been a friend of

some one in the expedition, I believe. I suppose that's how Gage met her. I don't think

either of them really cared for each other. Perhaps she was a bit jealous of the ladies of

the party. I don't know anything much about it, only I remember one night in the cafe of

the Palace Hotel, I thought Gage and another fellow would fight a duel-- almost--until

Everson dropped in and patched the affair up and the next day his yacht left for Golden

Key."

"I wish I'd been here to go with them," I considered. "How do you suppose I'll be able to

get out there, now?"

"You might be able to hire a tug," shrugged Kenmore. "The only one I know is that of

Captain Guiteras. He's the father of this Dolores I told you about."

The suggestion seemed good, and after a few moments more of conversation, absorbing

what little Kenmore knew, we threaded our way across the city to the home of the

redoubtable Guiteras and his pretty daughter.

Guiteras proved to be a man of about fifty, a sturdy, muscular fellow, his face bronzed by

the tropical sun.

I had scarcely broached the purpose of my visit when his restless brown eyes seemed

literally to flash. "No, sir," he exclaimed, emphatically. "You cannot get me to go on any

such expedition. Mr. Everson came here first and tried to hire my tug. I wouldn't do it.

No, sir--he had to get one from Havana. Why, the whole thing is unlucky--hoodooed, you

call it. I will not touch it."

"But," I remonstrated, surprised at his unexpected vehemence, "I am not asking you to

join the expedition. We are only going to--"

"No, no," he interrupted. "I will not consider it. I--"

He cut short his remarks as a young woman, radiant in her Latin- American beauty,

opened the door, hesitated at sight of us, then entered at a nod from him. We did not need

to be told that this was the Dolores whom Kenmore's rumor had credited with almost

wrecking Everson's expedition at the start. She was a striking type, her face, full of

animation and fire, betraying more of passion than of intellect.

A keen glance of inquiry from her wonderful eyes at her father was followed by a

momentary faraway look, and she remained silent, while Guiteras paused, as if

considering something.

"They say," he continued, slowly, his features drawn sharply, "that there was loot of

Mexican churches on that ship--the jewels of Our Lady of the Rosary at Puebla.... That

ship was cursed, I tell you!" he added, scowling darkly.

"No one was lost on it, though," I ventured at random.

"I suppose you never heard the story of the Antilles?" he inquired, turning swiftly toward

me. Then, without stopping: "She had just sailed from San Juan before she was wrecked--

on her way to New York from Vera Cruz with several hundred Mexican refugees.

Treasure? Yes; perhaps millions, money that belonged to wealthy families in Mexico--

and some that had the curse on it.

"You asked a moment ago if everybody wasn't rescued. Well, everybody was rescued

from the wreck except Captain Driggs. I don't know what happened. No one knows. The

fire had got into the engine-room and the ship was sinking fast. Passengers saw him, pale,

like a ghost, some said. Others say there was blood streaming from his head. When the

last boat-load left they couldn't find him. They had to put off without him. It was a

miracle that no one else was lost."

"How did the fire start?" inquired Kennedy, much interested.

"No one knows that, either," answered Guiteras, shaking his head slowly. "I think it must

have been smoldering in the hold for hours before it was discovered. Then the pumps

either didn't work properly or it had gained too great headway for them. I've heard many

people talk of it and of the treasure. No, sir, you wouldn't get me to touch it. Maybe you'll

call it superstition. But I won't have anything to do with it. I wouldn't go with Mr.

Everson and I won't go with you. Perhaps you don't understand, but I can't help it."

Dolores had stood beside her father while he was speaking, but had said nothing, though

all the time she had been regarding us from beneath her long black eyelashes. Arguments

with the old pilot had no effect, but I could not help feeling that somehow she was on our

side, that whether she shared his fears and prejudices, her heart was really somewhere

near the Key of Gold.

There seemed to be nothing for us to do but wait until some other way turned up to get

out to the expedition, or perhaps Dolores succeeded in changing the captain's mind. We

bowed ourselves out, not a little puzzled by the enigma of the obdurate old man and his

pretty daughter. Try as I might among the busy shipping of the port, I could find no one

else willing at any reasonable price to change his plans to accommodate us.

It was early the next morning that a young lady, very much perturbed, called on us at our

hotel, scarcely waiting even the introduction of her plainly engraved card bearing the

name, Miss Norma Sanford.

"Perhaps you know of my sister, Asta Sanford, Mrs. Orrin Everson," she began, speaking

very rapidly as if under stress. "We're down here on Asta's honeymoon in Orrin's yacht,

the Belle Aventure." Craig and I exchanged glances, but she did not give us a chance to

interrupt.

"It all seems so sudden, so terrible," she cried, in a burst of wild, incoherent feeling.

"Yesterday Bertram Traynor died, and we've put back to San Juan with his body. I'm so

worried for Orrin and my sister. I heard you were here, Professor Kennedy, and I couldn't

rest until I saw you."

She was looking anxiously at Craig. I wondered whether she had heard of our visit to the

Guiterases and what she knew about that other woman.

"I don't quite understand," interposed Kennedy, with an effort to calm her. "Why do you

fear for your sister and Mr. Everson? Was there something--suspicious--about the death

of Mr. Traynor?"

"Indeed I think there was," she replied, quickly. "None of us has any idea how it

happened. Let me tell you about our party. You see, there are three college chums, Orrin

and two friends, Bertram Traynor and Donald Gage. They were all on a cruise down here

last winter, the year after they graduated. It was in San Juan that Orrin first met Mr.

Dominick, who was the purser on the Antilles-- you know, that big steamer of the Gulf

Line that was burned last year and went down with seven million dollars aboard?"

Kennedy nodded to the implied query, and she went on: "Mr. Dominick was among those

saved, but Captain Driggs was lost with his ship. Mr. Dominick had been trying to

interest some one here in seeking the treasure. They knew about where the Antilles went

down, and the first thing he wanted to do was to locate the wreck exactly. After that was

done of course Mr. Dominick knew about the location of the ship's strong room and all

that."

"That, of course, was common knowledge to any one interested enough to find out,

though," suggested Kennedy.

"Of course," she agreed. "Well, a few months later Orrin met Mr. Dominick again, in

New York. In the mean time he had been talking the thing over with various people and

had become acquainted with a man who had once been a diver for the Interocean Marine

Insurance Company--Owen Kinsale. Anyhow, so the scheme grew. They incorporated a

company, the Deep Sea Engineering Company, to search for the treasure. That is how

Orrin started. They are using his yacht and Mr. Dominick is really in command, though

Mr. Kinsale has the actual technical knowledge."

She paused, but again her feelings seemed to get the better of her. "Oh," she cried, "I've

been afraid all along, lately. It's dangerous work. And then, the stories that have been told

of the ship and the treasure. It seems ill-fated. Professor Kennedy," she appealed, "I wish

you would come and see us. We're not on the yacht just now. We came ashore as soon as

we arrived back, and Asta and Orrin are at the Palace Hotel now. Perhaps Orrin can tell

you more. If you can do nothing more than quiet my fears--"

Her eyes finished the sentence. Norma Sanford was one of those girls who impress you as

quite capable of taking care of themselves. But in the presence of the tragedy and a

danger which she felt but could not seem to define, she felt the need of outside assistance

and did not hesitate to ask it. Nor was Kennedy slow in responding. He seemed to

welcome a chance to help some one in distress.

We found Everson and his young wife at the hotel, quite different now from the care-free

adventurers who had set out only a few days before to wrest a fortune from chance.

I had often seen portraits of the two Sanford sisters in the society pages of the papers in

the States and knew that the courtship of Orrin Everson and Asta Sanford had been a true

bit of modern romance.

Asta Everson was a unique type of girl. She had begun by running fast motor cars and

boats. That had not satisfied her, and she had taken up aviation. Once, even, she had tried

deep-sea diving herself. It seemed as if she had been born with the spirit of adventure.

To win her, Everson had done about everything from Arctic exploration one summer

when he was in college to big-game hunting in Africa, and mountain-climbing in the

Andes. Odd though the romance might seem to be, one could not help feeling that the

young couple were splendidly matched in their tastes. Each had that spirit of restlessness

which, at least, sent them out playing at pioneering.

Everson had organized the expedition quite as much in the spirit of revolt against a

prosaic life of society at home as for gain. It had appealed strongly to Asta. She had

insisted that nothing so much as a treasure hunt would be appropriate for their wedding-trip and they had agreed on the unconventional. Accordingly, she and her sister had

joined Everson and his party, Norma, though a year younger, being quite like her sister in

her taste for excitement.

"Of course, you understand," explained Everson, as he hurriedly tried to give us some

idea of what had happened, "we knew that the Antilles had sunk somewhere off the Cay

d'Or. It was first a question of locating her. That was all that we had been doing when

Bertram died. It is terrible, terrible. I can't believe it. I can't understand it."

In spite of his iron nerve, the tragedy seemed to have shaken Everson profoundly.

"You had done nothing that might have been dangerous?" asked Kennedy, pointedly.

"Nothing," emphasized Everson. "You see, we located the wreck in a way somewhat

similar to the manner in which they sweep the seas for mines and submarines. It was

really very simple, though it took us some time. All we did was to drag a wire at a fixed

depth between the yacht and the tug, or rather, I suppose you'd almost call it a trawler,

which I chartered from Havana. What we were looking for was to have the wire catch on

some obstruction. It did, too, not once, but many times, due to the unevenness of the

ocean bed. Once we located a wreck, but it was in shallow water, a small boat, not the

one we were looking for."

"But you succeeded finally?"

"Yes, only day before yesterday we located her. We marked the spot with a buoy and

were getting ready for real work. It was just after that that Bertram was taken ill and died

so suddenly. We've left Dominick, Kinsale, Gage, and the rest on the trawler there, while

I came here with Traynor's body. God! but it was awful to have to send the news back to

New York. I don't know what to think or what to do."

"How did he die?" asked Kennedy, endeavoring to gain the confidence of young Everson.

"Do you recall any of his symptoms?"

"It came on him so suddenly," he replied, "that we hadn't much time to think. As nearly

as we could make out, it began with a faintness and difficulty in breathing. We asked him

how he felt-- but it seemed as if he was deaf. I thought it might be the 'bends'--you know,

caisson disease--and we started to put him in the medical lock which we had for the

divers, but before we could get it ready he was unconscious. It was all so sudden that it

stunned us. I can't make it out at all."

Neither Asta nor Norma seemed able to tell anything. In fact, the blow had been so swift

and unexpected, so incomprehensible, that it had left them thoroughly alarmed.

The body of Traynor had already been brought ashore and placed in a local undertaking

shop. With Everson, Kennedy and I hastened to visit it.

Traynor had been an athlete and powerfully built, which made his sudden death seem all

the more strange. Without a word, Craig set to work immediately examining his body,

while we stood aside, watching him in anxious silence. Kennedy consumed the greater

part of the morning in his careful investigation, and after some time Everson began to get

restless, wondering how his wife and sister- in-law were getting on in his absence. To

keep him company I returned to the hotel with him, leaving Kennedy to pursue his work

alone.

There was nothing much that either of us could say or do, but I thought I observed, on

closer acquaintance with Norma, that she had something weighing on her mind. Was it a

suspicion of which she had not told us? Evidently she was not prepared to say anything

yet, but I determined, rather than try to quiz her, to tell Kennedy, in the hope that she

might confide in him what she would not breathe to any one else.

It was perhaps an hour or more later that we returned to Craig. He was still at work,

though from his manner it was evident that his investigations had begun to show

something, however slight.

"Have you found anything?" asked Everson, eagerly.

"I think I have," returned Craig, measuring his words carefully. "Of course you know the

dangers of diving and the view now accepted regarding the rapid effervescence of the

gases which are absorbed in the body fluids during exposure to pressure. I think you

know that experiment has proved that when the pressure is suddenly relieved the gas is

liberated in bubbles within the body. That is what seems to do the harm. His symptoms,

as you described them, seemed to indicate that. It is like charged water in a bottle. Take

out the cork and the gas inside which has been under pressure bubbles up. In the human

body, air and particularly the nitrogen in the air, literally form death bubbles."

Everson said nothing as he regarded Kennedy's face searchingly, and Craig went on: "Set

free in the spinal cord, for instance, such bubbles may cause partial paralysis, or in the

heart may lead to stoppage of the circulation. In this case I am quite sure that what I have

found indicates air in the arteries, the heart, and the blood vessels of the brain. It must

have been a case of air embolism, insufflation."

Though Everson seemed all along to have suspected something of the sort, Kennedy's

judgment left him quite as much at a loss for an explanation. Kennedy seemed to

understand, as he went on:

"I have tried to consider all the ways such a thing could have happened," he considered.

"It is possible that air might have been introduced into the veins by a hypodermic needle

or other instrument. But I find no puncture of the skin or other evidence that would

support that theory. I have looked for a lesion of the lungs, but find none. Then how

could it have occurred? Had he done any real deep diving?"

Everson shook his head slowly. "No," he replied. "As I said, it wouldn't have been so

incomprehensible if he had. Besides, if we had been diving, we should have been on the

lookout. No, Bertram had only tested the apparatus once, after we located the wreck. He

didn't much more than go under the surface--nothing like the practice dives we all made

up in Long Island Sound before we came down here. He was only testing the pumps and

other things to see whether they had stood the voyage. Why, it was nothing at all! I don't

see how it could have given any one the 'bends'--much less a fellow like Traynor. Why, I

think he could have stood more than Kinsale with a little practice. Kennedy, I can't get it

out of my mind that there's something about this that isn't RIGHT."

Craig regarded Everson gravely. "Frankly," he confessed, "I must say that I don't

understand it myself--at this distance."

"Would you come out to the Key with me?" hastened Everson, as though grasping at a

possible solution.

"I should be delighted to help you in any manner that I can," returned Craig, heartily.

Everson could not find words to express his gratitude as we hurried back to the hotel. In

the excitement, I had completely forgotten the despatch from the Star, but now I suddenly

realized that here, ready to hand, was the only way of getting out to the Key of Gold and

securing the story.

Asta Everson and Norma, especially, were overjoyed at the news that Kennedy had

consented to accompany them back to the wreck. Evidently they had great faith in him,

from what they had heard at home.

Accordingly, Everson lost no time in preparing to return to the yacht. Nothing more now

could be done for poor Traynor, and delay might mean much in clearing up the mystery,

if mystery it should prove. We were well on our way toward the landing place before I

realized that we were going over much the same route that Kennedy and I had taken the

day before to reach the home of Guiteras.

I was just about to say something about it to Kennedy, and of the impression that Norma

had made on me, when suddenly a figure darted from around a corner and confronted us.

We stopped in surprise. It was no other than Dolores herself--not the quiet, subdued

Dolores we had seen the day before, but an almost wild, passionate creature. What it was

that had transformed her I could not imagine. It was not ourselves that she seemed to

seek, nor yet the Eversons. She did not pause until she had come close to Norma herself.

For a moment the two women, so different in type, faced each other, Dolores fiery with

the ardent beauty of her race, Norma pulsating with life and vigor, yet always mistress of

herself.

"I warn you!" cried Dolores, unable to restrain herself. "You thought the other was yours-

-and he was not. Do not seek revenge. He is mine--MINE, I tell you. Win your own back

again. I was only making sport of him. But mine--beware!"

For a moment Norma gazed at her, then, without a word, turned aside and walked on.

Another instant and Dolores was gone as suddenly as she had appeared. Asta looked

inquiringly, but Norma made no attempt at explanation. What did it mean? Had it

anything to do with the dispute in the hotel which Kenmore had witnessed?

At the landing we parted for a time with Everson, to return to our hotel and get what little

we needed, including Kennedy's traveling laboratory, while Everson prepared quarters

for our reception on the yacht.

"What do you make of that Dolores incident?" I hastened to ask the moment we were

alone.

"I don't know," he replied, "except that I feel it has an important bearing on the case.

There is something that Norma hasn't told us, I fear."

While we waited for a wagon to transfer our goods to the dock, Kennedy took a moment

to call up Kenmore on the News. As he turned to me from the telephone, I saw that what

he had learned had not helped him much in his idea of the case.

"It was the Interocean Company which had insured the Antilles," was all he said.

Instantly I thought of Kinsale and his former connection. Was he secretly working with

them still? Was there a plot to frustrate Everson's plans? At least the best thing to do was

to get out to the wreck and answer our many questions at first hand.

The Belle Aventure was a trim yacht of perhaps seventy feet, low, slim, and graceful,

driven by a powerful gas-engine and capable of going almost anywhere. An hour later we

were aboard and settled in a handsomely appointed room, where Craig lost no time in

establishing his temporary traveling crime clinic.

It was quite late before we were able to start, for Everson had a number of commissions

to attend to on this his first visit to port since he had set out so blithely. Finally, however,

we had taken aboard all that he needed and we slipped out quietly past the castle on the

point guarding the entrance to the harbor. All night we plowed ahead over the brilliant,

starry, tropical sea, making splendid time, for the yacht was one of the fastest that had

ever been turned out by the builders.

Now and then I could see that Kennedy was furtively watching Norma, in the hope that

she might betray whatever secret it was she was guarding so jealously. Though she

betrayed nothing, I felt sure that it had to do with some member of the expedition and that

it was a more than ordinarily complicated affair of the heart. The ladies had retired,

leaving us with Everson in the easy wicker chairs on the after-deck.

"I can't seem to get out of my mind, Everson, that meeting with the Spanish girl on the

street," suddenly remarked Kennedy, in the hope of getting something by surprise. "You

see, I had already heard of a little unpleasantness in a hotel cafe, before the expedition

started. Somehow I feel that there must be some connection."

For a moment Everson regarded Kennedy under the soft rays of the electric light under

the awning as it swayed in the gentle air, then looked out over the easy swell of the

summer sea.

"I don't understand it myself," he remarked, at length, lowering his voice. "When we

came down here Dominick knew that girl, Dolores, and of course Kinsale met her right

away, too. I thought Gage was head over ears in love with Norma--and I guess he is.

Only that night in the cafe I just didn't like the way he proposed a toast to Dolores. He

must have met her that day. Maybe he was a bit excited. What she said to-day might

mean that it was her fault. I don't know. But since we've been out to the Key I fancy

Norma has been pretty interested in Dominick. And Kinsale doesn't hesitate to show that

he likes her. It all sets Donald crazy. It's so mixed up. I can't make anything of it. And

Norma--well, even Asta can't get anything out of her. I wish to Heaven you could

straighten the thing out."

We talked for some time, without getting much more light than Everson had been able at

first to shed on the affair, and finally we retired, having concluded that only time and

events would enable us to get at the truth.

It was early in the morning that I was wakened by a change in the motion of the boat.

There was very little vibration from the engine, but this motion was different. I looked

out of the port- hole which