Adventure Magazine Cover — page 100: what you’re looking at

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

Q2 “°E’s a regular Davy Jones!” The little captain spat to the deck. “°F’s no prophet; ’e’s bad luck!” “T thought he was good luck,” the mate drawled. “T’ve changed my mind!” snapped Micky. NATI, more lovely, from a distance, than a novelist’s description, was 4 reached thirty-one days out of San Francisco. Micky took the wheel from the wheelman and set a course for the lagoon’s entrance—a narrow rapid of tidal water. He brought the Calipso through safely, floated across the lagoon and broadsided alongside a rotting wharf at the land end of which were two long warehouses built by a defunct Dutch trading company. Natives, headed by the white men of that port, came swarming out of the town. Head- ing the islanders was Micky’s son, Bob McMasters, who climbed over the schoon- er’s rail and embraced his father. Turning, resting his chin on the cockney skipper’s shoulder, the son asked as he counted the crew of the Calipso— “T hope for goodness’ sake you brought the divers?” “Gol blyme, yes!” Red Landyard heard Micky’s pointed question which followed his “Gol blyme!” “Lad, ’ow are th’ pearls?” “Not so good, father. We’ve cleaned the five-fathom reef.” Bob McMasters pointed a steady hand toward the south shore of the lagoon. ‘“‘We cleaned that beastly well, with the help of native divers. Then we’ve been getting some up from the six-fathom reef— over there.” Bob’s arm swung northward. “But the best of the lot are too deep— except for diving-gear and good men. I hope the men you brought are capable fellows.” Micky led his son to the galley-house, where they inspected the gear brought from San Francisco and talked with the three deep-reef white divers. The fourth man sat on a hatch forward and glared aft. Blue Peter towered above this man and cast a shadow upon him. Red Landyard, after inspecting the two shore lines—the schooner was to remain at Nati—stretched his lanky legs by visiting the American consul. “Do you calculate,” queried the mate, “that ‘McMasters and Son’ will clean up a fortune in their concession?” Adventure The American consul mopped a heated brow and closed one eye vigorously. “They may!” “What are their chances?” ““Deep-reef diving has been tried here—it didn’t work. There’s a pearl in about every thousand oysters. I wish they’d get the rotten mess ofi the beach.”’ Red Landyard went to the schooner. Micky and Son had gone to the pearl-sheds with the divers and gear. Blue Peter sat under an awning of his own making, sewing a patch on a sail. “Well, what do you think of Nati?” ques- tioned the Yankee. Blue Peter stopped sewing, palmed the needle and blinked toward the jungle’s fringe that came down to the still waters of the lagoon. The old salt’s eyes raised and fastened upon a line of mist-hidden hills that marked the island’s interior. He resumed sewing, closed his eyes, and muttered— ““There’s fever here—an’ somethin’ else.” ‘““What else, Blue Peter?” Slowly the shell-back’s head wagged. “T don’t fathom—what else—but it’s somethin’.”’ Red Landyard shivered slightly, although the sun was hot, and glanced at the rotten wharf. He noticed that both hawsers se- curing the Calipso dipped into stagnant lagoon, raised, and dipped again—as if there were an unseen swell upon the surface of the water. McMasters came back to the schooner at sundown; the little cockney skipper was enthusiastic. “We're goin’ to get th’ pearls this time!” he declared. “Red, there’s a lava reef, where my boy is workin’ with th’ three divers, that’s rich as th’ Bank o’ England. It’s that rich!” ‘“‘Look out for fever,’ cautioned the mate. ‘“‘Blue Peter senses it, I guess.”’ “Th’ lad’s immune; ’e’s tough with right livin’ an’ youth. ’E’s layin’ it hout to those divers, an’ they’re afraid of ’1m.”’ “T mean you should look out for fever.” The little skipper glared toward Blue Peter. “°F said that! ’E’s always croakin’. I wish I’d left ’im ashore at ’Frisco. Maybe we did wrong, Red, in bringin’ ’im with hus.”’ The ancient seaman came slowly down the cleared deck and stood beside Mc- Masters. C@ DOOLK S C@