In Search of an Unknown Race — page 29: what you’re looking at

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

VAN. a1 abject terror, had set three tumblers and a bottle of brandy before them on the head of the capstan, about which the villainous trio had gathered. With a gesture of despair, Van turned to the wheel, where the gigantic negro was standing. Tom had only just come on deck. He knew nothing of the mutiny, or of the disappearance of Captain Peterson, and did not seem to understand the situation. As Van faced him, Tom placed his fingers on his thick lips and motioned in the direction of the open companionway, at which the voices from the cabin be- low were plainly discernible. ‘‘T tell you,” Bates was saying, ‘‘it shan’t be done. The young fellow has always treated us decently, and I'm not going to have him chucked over the side, to please you or anybody else, without there’s need for it.” Van had heard enough. With a sickening sensation of loathing and dread, he turned from the companion- way. Oh, if he only had some sort of weapon ! Almost as though divining his thoughts the negro, glancing swiftly about him, placed his huge black paw into the breast of his ragged shirt, and withdrawing it quickly, thrust into Van’s hand one of those clumsy yet effective weapons known as “‘ British bulldogs.” With a thrill of joy, Van hastily concealed the pistol, the possession of which gave him a certain sense of security. ‘* But_you, Tom,” he whispered. The negro grinned significantly. ‘‘T look out for myself—don’ you be ’fraid,” he mut- tered, as Bates, followed by the dwarfed seaman, came up the companionway steps. Gomichooks (E(@) im