Adventure Magazine Cover — page 110: what you’re looking at

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

866 was confronted by chief master-at-arms Joseph ‘“‘Dopey”? Desmond, whom chance and the navy regulations designated as the man of the hour. “Boys, there’s somethin’ gone wrong aft,” he announced succinctly. ‘‘Looks like all the officers had been dosed with laughin’ gas orsomethin’. They’re all out of their heads and dangerously sick. They may all die, but not if Howard Berwyn knows his busi- ness, and he’s one of the hospital stewards that does. With no warrant officers aboard and the commissioned ones all out of com- mission, I’m next in command, and you'll - understand that I’m goin’ to be a real com- mander, a warranted six-ply, wire-hawser captain!” “Spoof! Get the hook!” The utterer of this sedition, from his covert in the thick of the company, flattered himself that he was safeguarding himself from detection by the calm eye and sober face with which he was watching the new captain. The words were hardly out, how- ever, before a man of his own rating, but detailed as acting master-at-arms, caught him by the collar from behind. Desmond nodded approval. ‘Take him to the brig, Mason!” he or- dered, and turned to Gerlack: ‘Bo’sun, give Dugan solitary B. and W. until further notice!”’ Dugan was struggling to break away, but another deputy came to Mason’s aid and the malcontent was hurled roughly to the deck, jerked violently to his feet again, and rushed forward, his quick vanishing down the screw’s hatch being followed by a thud and an oath from below. “Trouble-breeders will be handled with- out gloves on this packet while [’m It,” went on Desmond. “If I smash the regula- tions with corporal punishments, I’ll be ex- cused on the ground of ignorance, which Captain Peppiter wouldn’t be. I know there ain’t many like Dugan among you, but if there’s anybody else wants to be a hard guy, he’ll get the same as Dugan and then some. It’s up to us to make good, boys, and we won’t shoot any hot air about it. We know what Captain Peppiter’s orders are and we'll carry ’em out! Doc Berwynd is the medicine man and he’I look out for the sick folks. Nauheim is the engineer officer now, and him and the black gang ’Il run the underground works without a hitch. Quin- lan’s the navigator, and he can navigate Adventure all right. Gerlack’s first-lufi—don’t forget that particular item; and Spyle’s ordnance officer, and you gunner’s mates mustn’t kick if there’s a little work-out of watches with the batteries while we’re in this game, con- siderin’ there might be somethin’ doin’ with the guns before we’re through, you know. That’s all; pipe down, Gerly.” The six-ply commander at once repaired to the bridge, where his chief concern rested, but he took heart from the nonchalant air with which Quinlan was pacing the bridge. “T told ’em you’s a navigator, Quinny,” he confessed in a low voice, an eye on the helmsman, ‘but Idunno. You're a sort of one, ain’t you?” Quinlan smiled. “I’m a paper one,” he modestly admitted; ‘‘corespondence school and not yet graduated. But don’t you worry. If I can’t navigate this ark of lunatics fifty miles up the coast, even if I’ve never been in the port we’re bound for, I'll —well, Pll follow the Old Man’s lead and navigate her in a circle until something busts!” If the quartermaster had made oath in legal phrases as to his capability for the work in hand, the master-at-arms would have had his doubts. As it was, he was completely reassured, and returned to the maindeck with a heavy burden lifted from his mind. “Nothing to the east’ard, helmsman,”’ directed Quinlan, peering through a tele- scope at the misty headlands off the star- board beam. ‘Nothin’ to the east’ard, sir,” precisely pronounced Looky, in whose disciplined mind, as a result of recent events, the quar- termaster had suddenly evoluted from friv- olous “Binoculars” to awesome “‘sir.”’ 7 WHILE Quinlan did not doubt his own ability to take the ship to the desired port by pure navigation, he was wisely purposing to keep the coast in sight. After comparing the trend of the shore-line with the compass course that Lieutenant Treater had penciled on the chart and calculating the distance made by the patent log readings, he brought the rough log-book out of the pilot-house and started entering therein a concise record of weather conditions, ship’s work done and events that had occurred since meridian. At the master-at-arms’ desk on the berth- deck, Desmond, Gerlack and Spyles held cComiclbooks (©