showed the forms of bare square-rigged masts.
Lower lights flickered, displaying a glimpse of a phantom ship. Then the
fog rolled downward like a final curtain, and blotted out the grotesque vision.
The man on the shore entertained no doubts as to the reality of the
ghostly ship. A superstitious sailor might have classed it as an appearance of
the Flying Dutchman, reputed haunter of the high seas. But to the landsman,
this passing glimpse was the very sight that he had hoped to see.
His guarded whistle was repeated. An electric torch clicked in his hand.
He turned the brilliant spot of light toward the unseen boat, and swung his arm
in a repeated signal.
Creaking sounds came across the water. A boat was being lowered from the
sailing ship. The diminishing of the noise indicated that the square-rigger was
drifting away from the danger of shoal water.
The waiting man turned out his light and made another short whistle. He
repeated this at intervals, to guide those who might be approaching.
The clicking of oarlocks was his reward. With oars muffled, the small boat
was heading toward the beach. The light was on again now, whirling in wide
sweeps, as the anxious man sought to give his exact position. The sullen fog
threw back the shaft of light, but rays were filtering through the gloom
sufficiently to guide those who were arriving.
A small boat landed with surprising suddenness, its prow grinding in the
sand. Less than twenty feet away from the man on the shore, the occupants of
the little boat were clearly outlined by the light.
Four men leaped over the side. Knee-deep in the water, they lifted a
heavy, cubical object from the center of the boat, and came staggering to the
shore. Dark-skinned, bare-legged Malays, these men were silent as they placed
the box directly in front of the glaring light.
With apparent unconcern, they waded back to the boat, and brought out a
second box - the replica of the first. A few minutes later, the two boxes were
side by side upon the beach.
During all this operation, the Malays had not glimpsed the man who stood
behind the light. They were working in accord with some prescribed arrangement.
Their task now finished, they splashed back to the little boat and climbed
aboard. The oarlocks creaked as the boat disappeared into the misty fog.
The man on shore listened, apparently anxious to be sure that the
mysterious visitors were gone. A faint whistle signal served to guide the
Malays back to their ship. Then came almost inaudible creaking as the little
boat was raised to the deck of the invisible square-rigger. After that, long
silence.
HIS torch no longer lighted, the man on the shore stood motionless. The
whole strange affair might have been nothing more than a fantasy - a strange
dream possessing no more solid substance than the hovering fog.
But now the torch came on again, its glare turned downward. Beneath its
light was the concrete evidence of what had occurred upon this lonely beach.
There rested the two square boxes - bulky containers composed of foam-sprayed
wood.
The man examined each of the boxes in turn. The heavy objects were
constructed to withstand rough shipment. The tops were indicated by lids that
