Adventure, January 20, 1922 — page 24: what you’re looking at

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

22 9 “Anchor’s foul, cappen,’’ came a voice out of the darkness. “Then slip it. Take an ax to the haw- ser. Let’s away, —— ye. And douse all lights.” He bellowed the order regarding lights to every vessel, and lanterns winked and went out in answer. ‘The flag-ship gath- ered way, tacked, and crossed the bows of the smallest sloop, on board of which the lurid curses of the men at the pumps swelled the harsh chorus of the men at the crazy windlass as the anchor came home. “Follow as ye can;»my bold lads,” Cook roared with a chuckle of wicked sarcasm. “Tl have ye a fine ship ere Dominica’s dropped astern.’’ He laughed aloud at the volley of male- dictions that flew across the water in re- sponse. It ceased sharply; and, listening intently, he detected sounds which told him they were picking up the boat he had sent adrift. “A fair wind to ’em, and room in the boat!” he laughed, and applied himself to working his sloop out to sea. Slowly he ran out until the clanking pumps astern grew faint; but there was a suddenness in the stopping of the sound that made him peer more intently in the direction it had come from. For a minute he was tempted to stand back and see if all was well; then he heard faint voices from the island, answered by those on the small sloop, and again he stood seaward, not at all satisfied that all was well, but too much in fear of that square topsail beyond the island to linger. As he watched the bearing of the great flare astern, he fell into a black mood which promised little peace to his men until he had faced Davies and put him in his rightful place for his effrontery in taking away the captive whom Cook had reserved for him- self. The white sloop was a nebulous blur ahead and to windward, and was outfooting the flag-ship with ease. It was a hint that reprisals must. come, if at all, through strategy rather than by speed or force. “Answer me he shall, for all his heels,” growled the captain, taking a final bearing of the fire and setting his off-shore course. As if in answer the great fire sent aloft a plume of red sparks against which a single tall palm stood out in black relief, one long frond depending toward the fire in gruesome resemblance to a gallows. And Adventure from the white sloop came down the raucous squawk of Davies’ parrot: “There’s blood on th’ moo-oon! raw-awk!”’ “Davies shall eat that blasted fowl alive!” swore John Cook savagely. Rr- IX forth across the course the others must cover to raise Dominica, out of sight of the land, but near enough to keep the rendezvous within a couple of watches or so. Edward Davies lounged beside the long tiller, a striking figure in his panoply of the rover bent on business. The steersman kept his eyes upon the nock of the mainsail unwaveringly. Knots of idle men about the crowded narrow decks avoided sending direct glances toward the captain. Nell Clark, standing by, regard- ed the tall pirate curiously. “Tohn Cook took his hook— Now he hides on Aves!” screamed Davies’ parrot, ruffling up his feathers and scratching his ear on the pirate’s broad shoulder. Nell anaare shortly. “I was thinking about Cook,” she sad. “A plaguing itch seize Cook!” replied Davies with a pleasant grin. “I am think- ing rather on the great ship that slipped by us last night. That would have set us afloat in proper fashion, Nell.” “If she was a king’s ship, whether of Spain or England, ’twere well she passed us by,” retorted Nell, sharply. “If but a fat trader, she’s likely to have sisters close on her heels, ain’t she? Patience. I can not cast from my mind thought of the wench and her fortunes. ’Tis that which made me think of John Cook. Oh, what a settlement there'll be atween ye both when he boards ye and finds ye have no wench aboard but me!” Davies laughed outright, a roaring, merry guffaw that started his crowded ruffians to chuckling in sympathy. Not many ships so packed with all the elements of discord could have sailed a thousand miles so placidly as the white sloop under Edward Davies. . “And ye say ye’re no wench, but a man, by yr own choice,” Davies remarked. “Well, comrade, as ye say, as ye say! Gomicbook (E@)