Adventure Magazine Cover — page 44: what you’re looking at

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

36 “T’ll go cook for you, sir,” said Pete once more. “You'll go cook for me!” Gedge turned and stared at Filson as if in doubt about what Pete had said and the mate must verify what the captain’s ears had heard. Then a smile of appreciation broke over his face, and he thumped his hand down on the counter with such force that the vinegar cruets all leaped from the board. “Now that’s the ticket!’ he cried. “I heave a bottle at a black, and he wants to go cook for me! Who says a nigger don’t know a master when he sees one? Pete, you’re black, and you know your place. That’s the kind of a cook I want, my eyes!” The Greek edged back alongside Black Pete; and, turning, he said in a low voice: “Vou are a fool! want to go to sea with this man! crazy!” Gedge grinned. It suited his present humor to take Sinker Joe’s cook away from him. So the captain prodded Filson in the ribs, as if there was the beginning of a gor- geous joke on the Greek restaurant owner— and on Pete. “Can’t your nigger go where he wants to?” demanded Gedge. ‘You don’t own him, do you? What is this place? A slave joint? You foreigners think that when you pay wages to a man he’s your property like a truck-horse! What business is it of yours what Black Pete wants to do, if it suits him and he’s paid for it, hey?” The Greek scowled at Gedge and waddled through the curtain which shut off his living-quarters from the restaurant. Gedge turned his attention to Pete. “Have you ever been to sea?” he de- manded. Pete now brought the captain’s steak. “Ves, sir,’ he said. “When I was younger I was in a ship a long time. [ don’t like it here. You say, sir, you will go to Tangeru?”’ “Sure,” said Gedge. “But I won’t bring you back. You'll sign for the pas- sage out, with a bonus for passage money up to Manila. You'll have to git a new ship there. I’m taking this schooner out to her new owners.” “T’ll go, sir,” said Pete. He took off his apron and his napkin- I pay you well, and you You are Adventure cap and threw them over a line on which towels were drying. ‘You know how to make up your mind, I'll say that for you,” said Gedge. “It’s all settled.” The Greek came shuffling out again. He had evidently been listening behind the curtain, for he was sulky. He stood frowning at Pete, and then snatched the apron off the line and tied it about himself. “The Seeker is right across the road there,” said Gedge, pointing over his shoul- der with his thumb in the direction of the fog-hidden docks across the Embarcadero. ‘“‘Be aboard in twenty minutes if you want to go, cook—we won’t bother about the commissioner; you can go on the name of the grub-spoiler who jumped out on me.” “Yes, sir,” and Pete disappeared through the curtain into the back room with the obvious intention of packing his goods and quitting the Battleship Lunch without more ado. Gedge and Filson finished their meals hastily and paid the disgruntled Greek, whereupon they slipped out into the fog and made their way toward the pier where the Seeker was lying. Black Pete came out through the curtain with a bundle slung over his shoulder, and wearing a coat and hat. “For why you go?” Sinker Joe assailed him. “Have I not been like a father for you seex year? And you talk the English better as I do after the school of nights! For why you leave me, now that this man of ——, Gedge, comes by my place?” “You have been good, yes,” said Pete with something of sadness in his voice and manner. “But I am tired of the city, I am tired of the cold fogs, I am tired of the land. The time has come for me to go.” “But that Gedge!”’ cried the Greek, his anger growing over the captain winning away the cook. “If you likes to go to sea—go! But not with Gedge. He is— Oh, you black men have nothing of sense in your heads! Gedge! Everybody knows Gedge! He is a bad man!” “Yes, I know—but I don’t care,” said Pete wearily. He looked about the restaurant as if he knew this was the last time he should see it —the grimy walls, the stale odors of cooked food, the faded and dirty placards and posters pinned to the dingy, painted plaster. ‘The Greek threw his hands over his head GOMIIGooOo S (©