Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 23, 1924 — page 9: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

SHIFTING SANDS. “Looks like something to do is the main thing not to be had at home now,” commented Watson, reading a dozen dis- - appointing letters on steamer day. He had been trying to get something himself. “JT swear I don’t know what to do,” said Clay ruefully. ‘“ Checking freight in a hot warehouse all day and working on a set of books half the night is not my idea of a merry life.” “But, boy, we’re eating regular, saving a bit, and don’t owe anybody anything. That’s more than millions are doing in the States now.” “Funny, isn’t it,” mused Clay, “ how one suddenly realizes he ought to be thank- ful for those things he usually takes as a matter of course?” They were sitting on the porch at the Tivoli. A man named Morrill, whom they had met a few evenings before, came up and flopped into one of the rocking chairs. He was rather a fat, flashy and flamboyant in- dividual, a great braggart, and the two friends did not welcome his advent with any marked cordiality. “ Well, boys, my fortune’s made!” Mor- rill began, putting his feet up on the rail and lighting a cigar with a grand air. “Fine! How did you do it? We are looking for one, too,” suggested Ted Clay. “Oh, by just keeping my eyes and ears open.” Morrill winked one of his porcine optics knowingly. “Will you give us some lessons, please, sir?” inquired’ Watson with mock hu- mility. “ No, but I’ll tell you how I put two and two together which makes a fortune, in- stead of merely twice two.” “Shoot! That’s the kind of arithmetic that interests me strangely,” urged -Clay. ““ Well, I came up from Santiago ten days ago on a ship loaded with nitrate. Heard some fellows in the smoking room talking about the fortunes some of their friends were making pulling ships off the rocks and selling ’em to the Scandihoovians who are blockade-running stuff into Germany. Seems this gang has a regular ship salvaging outfit and are working their way up the coast. One of these birds says: ‘ Well, the juiciest plum of the whole lot they 167 will have will be the Loreli, up above Pan- ama—if they can get her afloat.’ ” “Most interesting! But how do you come in?” ‘asked Watson. ‘So I starts pumping this bird next day, kinda casual like, and find out where this Loreli ship is located.” “ Did you get the dope?” “« Sure! place called La Paz, about five hundred miles north of here. So I gets here, noses around, find the tip is straight, cables a wrecking outfit in the States, and they are coming down and float her. We'll mop up —J]’'ll take a third for mine—and that’ means a half a million for me!” “ But how do you get in?” demanded the puzzled Clay. ‘‘ Who does the boat belong to?” ‘“ Belongs to anybody who can take pos- session of her and float her. She’s a forty- nine hundred and fifty ton vessel, German built; was out on her second trip coming down from ’Frisco to South America; ran into one of these Pacific storms that last two or three days. The captain got on a spree and the ship lost her bearings. Fi- nally she got to running right before the wind, and on top of that a tidal wave comes along, too, and lifts her high and dry nearly a quarter of a mile up the beach.” ‘When was all that?” asked Watson. “ Why, about three years ago. But she was a brand new boat, a dandy, according to. Lloyd’s Register. I looked it all up.” “ Getting a ship afloat from dry land is some job,’ mused Clay. “It has been done!” asserted Morrill. “Worse cases than this. Why, the U. S. Cruiser Monongahela was carried ashore at Santa Cruz in eighteen sixty seven—a wave so big it took her clear over the tops of cocoanut trees along the shore and put her down away inland—but they floated her.” “ But still I don’t see where you get in on this?” persisted Watson. “ Where’d you get any right to make a deal with the wrecking outfit?” “Why, dammit—can’t you understand that I’ve as much right to her as anybody— only I beat ’em to it?” ‘Have you been up there?” innocently asked Clay. “co She’s high and dry up at alittle — co vOoOK - = =~ ’ ath 2 ‘. a nae ee .,