Edgar Rice Burroughs

The Lost Continent Edgar Rice Burroughs

Since earliest childhood I have been strangely fascinated by the mystery surrounding thehistory of the last days of twentieth century Europe. My interest is keenest, perhaps, not so muchin relation to known facts as to speculation upon the unknowable of the two centuries that haverolled by since human intercourse between the Western and Eastern Hemispheres ceased-themystery of Europe's state following the termination of the Great War-provided, of course, thatthe war had been terminated. From out of the meagerness of our censored histories we learned that for fifteen years afterthe cessation of diplomatic relations between the United States of North America and thebelligerent nations of the Old World, news of more or less doubtful authenticity filtered, fromtime to time, into the Western Hemisphere from the Eastern. Then came the fruition of that historic propaganda which is best described by its own slogan: "The East for the East-the West for the West," and all further intercourse was stopped bystatute. Even prior to this, transoceanic commerce had practically ceased, owing to the perils andhazards of the mine-strewn waters of both the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. Just when submarineactivities ended we do not know but the last vessel of this type sighted by a Pan-Americanmerchantman was the huge Q 138, which discharged twenty-nine torpedoes at a Brazilian tanksteamer off the Bermudas in the fall of 1972. A heavy sea and the excellent seamanship of themaster of the Brazilian permitted the Pan-American to escape and report this last of a long seriesof outrages upon our commerce. God alone knows how many hundreds of our ancient ships fellprey to the roving steel sharks of blood-frenzied Europe. Countless were the vessels and men thatpassed over our eastern and western horizons never to return; but whether they met their fatesbefore the belching tubes of submarines or among the aimlessly drifting mine fields, no manlived to tell