Imperial Valley press., 1936-11-15

THROUGH a mist of black murky clouds a
| wan yellow ray of moonlight sifted momen-
tarily Illuminating the blight of the beach turning
the slithering breakers into a lacework of silver
froth Beyond the coral reef a China bound
tramp steamer up from Sydney rode at anchor.
Outlined clearly in the moonlight, the ship
brought an almost overpowering impatience to
Evan Warwick as he gazed seaward at the rusty
vagabond. He watched the foam-scarred waters
of the Torres Strait break against the ships
side until a swarthy bank of clouds swept across
the moon, leaving only the blinking orange eyes
of the ships lights visible. Warwick felt rain
drops against his face. With barely perceptible
sigh, he gave a reluctant parting glance seaward,
dug his hands deep into the pockets of soiled
white ducks, and started up the beach toward the
town.
The lights of Thursday Island wedged into a
narrow section of the night stretching back
from the waterfront. For two years Warwick
had been a part of this melting pot Of men
men white, yellow brown and black, lured from
the worlds four corners to the pearling grounds
hoping for quick fortunes From where he came
no one had ever bothered to inquire and War
wick himself was a silent man. But in the two
years he had been on Thursday Island, he had
gained for himself the reputation of being an
honest dependable trader His presence was un-
questioned in the community. Starting with a
small boat and two Indifferent native divers,
Warwick had done very well indeed. There was
no record of his ever bringing up any stones of
unusual value, but he had done better than
ordinary for an individual operator. For the
past year he had owned his own diving appara-
tus employed several Japanese divers, and made
a comfortable profit in beche-de-ner aside from
his pearling activities. He lived alone with
Papuan boy to look after him, and seldom fire.
quented the bars and resorts where life at
Thursday Island was lived to the fullest He had
Tx;a o,,d Vie ~ har orf
than Thursday Island, he might have been sim
gled out as a mysterious recluse, but the traders
and adventures here were interested only in
pearl and shell-not men. They never bothered
to think about Warwick except as one of them
HE trudged along the waterfront the rain
u began to fall in a tropical torrent. The white
shirt he wore, open at the throat, stuck to his
body and, with each step, his canvas sneakers
oozed water with sloshing sound. The big
drops pounded against his pith helmet like the
beating of drums. With a long drawn, eerie
moan the wind sWelled The force and fury of
the downpour took his breath. Gasping. half
drowned he stumbled into Malay bar for shell
ter. He removed his helmet, shook it, and ran
a hand over his dripping face. Leaving a stream
of water in his wake he walked over + the bar
and ordered drink Downing it at gulp, he
turned his gaze around the room. 1t half
filled with Filipinos, East Indians and a few
Chinese There was one other white man pres
ent besides himself-a beachcomber from all
appearances. He sat, apparently in a drunken
stupor his head on the table his fingers wound
around a half-empty glass.
About to turn back to the bar to repeat his
order, Warwick suddenly stopped dead in his
tracks. His searching eyes riveted upon ring
on the white mans finger. For a brief instant
an amazing expression spread over his face, a
strange mingling of surprise elation and some
thing mysteriously menacing. He glanced about
him quickly as thouga>h >he suspected someone Of
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