Adventure Magazine Cover — page 68: what you’re looking at

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

Pte a captain had fought the him over, “those pumps are the slobbering kind; they don’t suck.” The carpenter reported from sounding the well— “Eighteen inches, sir.”’ “Ah, that’s it; that’s it!” Plack nodded absently. The men spat on their hands. “Go at it, lads! There’s grog around; we can’t get tired now, boys.” When he turned his back some one laughed derisively. Plack swung about and struck an attitude. Charley flushed to the roots of his hair with the insult. They paid no attention to him, however; liberal curses of the “ rotten tub an’ them as sails ’er’” broke forth. The mate struck the first man he heard muttering; the others he pretended not to hear; he was too drugged with doing Leiken’s work in addi- tion to his own. The watch laughed at this sham and talked out boldly. Disaffection spreads without information; the starboard watch, Jahlet’s own, tumbled up complaining. Before noon Jahlet had gone down for his revolver; whereupon the atmosphere grew positively venomous. Charley moved through it all in romantic fervor. It was too good to be real; he only ‘imagined it, this glamour of spewing pumps and rumbling, nerve-whipped men and leaping, swallowing seas. He might have been dreaming, but for one thing. The captain was that one thing. The ’s luck until even the man’s soul of him could not bear him up. Upon this last crushing disaster he dwelt to the exclusion of all present urgencies. Charley tried to rouse him and could not; another case of the pitcher going too often to the well. Freely had he hoped before; buoyantly had he believed; zealously had he fought. “Tt won’t make any difference, Charley,” he said now. “Let ’em do what they want.” His voice was sick, sick. “I’d most rather she’d sink, my boy, than take me in to face it. It’s spoiled, son, just when I thought I’d show you how ef “Fiddle-sticks! Paper smells like bad cheese, anyway. What’s the odds? Buck up, dad! We’re both standing this. I don’t think it’s so bad.” By dint of belittling the estimated damage he lured Plack on deck. There they surveyed the mate’s work of investi- gation. Half a dozen boxes of goods had been hoisted up and opened. Paper shred- Adventure ded and crumpled lay about the deck; angrily flung bolts of variously colored cot- ton goods hopelessly smudged in a riot of hues mocked the haunted face of the master. Jahlet leaned against the fife rail emitting an uninterrupted stream of vile language. Presently he looked up. “Get out of my sight!” he roared at Charley, too engulfed in this.loss he shared to know what he said. ‘‘There’s the last of your work, and the last of us. By I'll take this hooker to Bombay, though, and cram it down their dirty necks that ordered it. Keep at that pump, —— you!’ he flung about. ‘“T’ve got a gun here!” “Who'll pay us off in Bombay?” rose a dogged voice from forward. ‘ “Eh? Who said that? What’s that?” And suddenly Jahlet burst into mad laughing. “Who’ll pay you off? Why this kid, of course! He’s paying you now; I’m getting mine. He’ll pay you off. Be sure you collect.” ‘ “Mr. Jahlet!”’ barked Plack. no talk like that! Silence!’ Habit of obedience muzzled Jahlet and gave him time to control himself. But in a group habit is not dependable; obedience is gone. ‘The crew talked loudly. ‘““A Jonah like ’e says. I seen im pipe the wind. right he’ll pay!” “Bosun, ain’t ’e? ’s bosun! Sellin’ us out; thet ’ere’s the tune ’e pipes.” And a long finger shot out. ‘Plug up the bot- tom er ll wring yer neck!’ Charley’s mouth hung half-open. They were eying him. They were hurling anath- ema at skim. He, Charley, had become all in a trice ,the center of this wild up- heaval. Swimming through this impos- sible jamboree of emotions and occurrences, he was not simply a spectator of astounding adventure; he was a principal. Mutinous wrath launched against the boisterous wind and beating back to kam! It was incredible. He laughed boyishly. Instantly a knife flashed past his head. At that Jahlet’s revolver whipped out and held the crew motionless. “None o’ that!’ he roared in furious haste. “You go doing in a Jonah and we're all dead men! That’s often enough proved. ’Vast there! Easy!’ Charley’s mind had sunk into a stupor with the flash of the knife. A sensitive- ness, bluntly, murderously attacked, was seared in the boy. He -woke from the “Tl have (EO) CoOnnieooolxs