Adventure Magazine Cover — page 178: what you’re looking at

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

‘170 Adventure b me. I’ve got to get alittle snooze. If either of them move this way wake me, quick.” Toward midnight he awoke, bidding her sleep, apologizing for having slept so long. Bock was asleep, but Billings was sitting wide awake, staring at Moses, through the moonlight. “Mister,” he said, “I’m perished for a drink— this big devil he swiped more nor his share today.” Moses made no reply. At dawn he passed their water forward; and Bock, taking the pannikin, put it to his lips, draining it, grin- ning. Billings screamed with fury and with fear. Nance begged Moses to give him more water; Moses shaking his head. Toward noon he bade Billings pass the pannikin and, the pistol in his hand, passed it back, a quarter full, saying— “Make it last.” Billings stared at the pistol, and scowling at Bock, sipped the tepid water, smacking his dry lips. “Wet your clothes—you’ll get a little water that way,” said Moses. Billings did so, drawing his shirt over his head, thrusting it deep in the sea. Moses, dipping a bucket overboard, wetted the awning that sheltered Nance; and served her regular allowances of food and of water. Nance, sitting with her head bowed, cried—thinking of the Fancy Nan, and of Mr. Tattersall; of her father who would wait between the cottonwoods. That night, when Moses lay down to sleep, she sat awake, staring across the water toward the shores of home; thinking of the things that had happened in her life—of the voyages she had made; and of the day that they picked up the Tekoa’s boat; and, so thinking, fell asleep. Bock was asleep; Billings lying in the bottom pretending to sleep, watching her. Seeing her head nod he waited a few min- utes, then, rising quietly, stole softly aft. He was all but at the water-beaker when Moses, sleeping as a weasel sleeps, awoke. Springing up, his pistol in his hand, point- ing it at Billings, he pulled the trigger. Laughing in his face, pushing him aside, Billings made for the water-beaker, snarling. Lo with you.” He bent over the beaker, his lips dry, his throat parching. The old cook, dropping the pistol over- board, put his hand under his coat, and, bringing out a short iron belaying-pin, paused a moment, staring around the horizon. There was nothing save the sea and the sky to be seen. With a swift mo- tion he brought the pin down upon the back of the thirst-maddened sailor’s head; and Billings, dropping in the bottom of the boat, crumpled and was still. Looking to where Bock lay sleeping, Moses bent down. With a great effort he raised the warm limp body to the gunwale; and holding it there a moment, let it go. With a splash it disappeared in the sea. Nance stirred in her sleep, and, sitting beside her, Moses watched until she slept soundly. Then, rising to his feet, stood watching Bock. Bock, lying outstretched, immense and hideous in the glow of the yellow moonlight on his sallow features, made no motion. When dawn returned three great fins cruised slowly to and fro, forward and back again, around the boat. Bock, awaking, looked about him, search- ing for his shipmate. His lips parted, his irregular teeth showing, he stared at the fins cruising around him; the cruisers, swim- ming close beneath the gunwale, watching him as he stood above them. Turning, he stared at Moses, and grinning, passed the pannikin aft. When Moses returned it, with half the previous allowance, he looked at the old cook from eyes that glistened strangely. That day Moses cut down his own allow- ance of water; wetting his clothing regularly in the sea. All day the sharks cruised to and fro, watching; coming so close that it be- came impossible to put a hand in the sea. When night fell Moses told Nance to lie down and sleep, and far into the night sat watching Bock. It was midnight, when, as the moon arose high above them, the big sailor began to nod, and Moses, watch- ing him, presently knew that he slept. For a long while he remained motionless, watching the sleeper, his eyes fixed steadily upon him. At length, creeping forward, slowly, every sense alert, he stole behind the snoring sailor and stood upright, peering into the moonlight, searching the sea. There was nothing save the sea and the sky to be seen. He waited a while, staring all around the far-off horizons; the sleeping man reclining against the side of the boat at his feet. CoOMmiicloookks (©