Adventure, November 1915 — page 169: what you’re looking at

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

Gold at Sea But as I crushed him to me, exerting my full strength upon the stranglehold, I felt his head suddenly give. There was a little crunching snap, and he slumped in my arms as if a bullet had struck him. I lowered the sagging form to the deck. His head lolled grotesquely upon his shoulder. I knew he was done for—that his neck was broken. There was a sick, sinking feeling in my stomach, but I had no time for reflection. Action pressed. I heard voices and foot- steps approaching from forward. The gun gleamed where it had fallen upon the deck. It caught my eye, and im- pulsively I picked it up. It was a heavy service revolver, and I thrust it between my body and waistband. - I cast a swift, reconnoitering glance across the space between myself and the cabin hatch. It wasempty. Ralder’s body had disappeared, and only an ugly spot, black in the moonlight, told where he had fallen. The voices from forward sounded nearer. I sped swiftly across the open square of deck. In safety I gained the hatch and plunged down the ladder to the passageway below. Mary’s door was open, and she stood before it with an alarmed and questioning face. Her eyes widened as I appeared, and she started towards me with an exclamation I did not catch. I waved her back, with a finger to my lips to enjoin silence. Through the hatch came voices. I gained the entrance to my own room, flashed a reassuring glance to Mary and swung my door shut behind me. I fell panting into a chair, my scattered wits swimming. The thought of that sick- ening crunch when Henderson’s head fell awry was uppermost in my mind. The thought was nauseating. From the passage without came the dull rustle and tramp of men, and the murmur of their rough voices. The sounds receded, and I knew they had entered the ward-room. Their passage forced me to a fevered re- flection. They had Podd, without doubt. They had taken him into the ward-room. But Dooin? Had the little man got clear? Would Podd talk? A multitude of ques- tions raced through my mind. ~ And through the turmoil of thought ran an exultant note. For we had succeeded! We had flung into the night a far-spreading cry for help, an appeal that must find lodge- ment and response. Come what might to 167 Dooin or me, there was a chance for the girl. A chance for the girl! It was thought for her, rather than faith in Dooin, that had impelled me to help in the rash act. Did Mary want the chance? She said not. She trusted to Dacy. My heart contracted at the thought, the bitter thought of her relations with Dacy. What was she to him? I cared not what she was. She loved me, and I loved her. The struggle with Henderson had disar- ranged the shirt-sleeve bandage around the cut upon my shoulder. I became conscious that the blood was streaming down my arm and dripping upon the floor. The sight banished my mood and brought me to my feet. I opened my coat and discarded the old wrapping, and made' shift to bind the wound afresh with a folded towel. I was rinsing the stains from my hands when there came from without sounds that were pregnant with meaning. A great voice shouted “Captain! Captain!” and then there was the trampling of men’s feet de- scending the ladder and traversing the pas- sage, and last, a faint chorus of exclama- tions. — I listened with a quickened heart. I tip- toed to the door and pressed my ear against it. Intuitively [knew what was the ado, vi- sioned the scene without—the still warm body of Henderson being carried into the ward-room, and the startled cries. greeting its appearance. For several moments I stood by the door, tense and agitated. I could hear nothing but a murmur. The suspense grew intolerable. Swiftly I reasoned that my safest move was to appear in their midst, convey an impres- sion of surprise and ignorance and then re- turn to my duty in the engine-room. Mentally I rehearsed my part—an air of boldness and frank, indifferent replies to questions. Ilooked at my reflection in the glass to assure myself that my bearing was composed. The bulk of Henderson’s gun, thrust in my waistband, caught my eye. I trans- ferred it to my hip, and it still bulged. No- where about the suit of thin dungaree could I conceal it so that it would not be noticea- ble to a discerning eye. I reflected that it could do me little good in the event of un- pleasantness in the ward-room, and with reluctance thrust it beneath the mattress of my bunk. (E€) IOOK (EO)