Adventure Magazine Cover, October 1911 — page 86: what you’re looking at

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

1032 room, drinking coffee, with the dog beside him. ‘There was an Irishman at the wheel and the sails were bellying to a light air from the west. Every now and then York bent down and scratched the dog behind the ears. He did not see me at first. When I said good-morning, he jumped like a guilty man. “Tt’s you, is it?” he said. “Have some coffee. It’s beenalong night.” — His face—partly from lack of sleep, of course, but not altogether on that account— was deeply lined and the boy-look was ab- sent from his eyes for the first time since I had known him. After coffee we went on deck together. At the forward hatch a few of the men were hauling some of the dead steers from the hold, for some of the weakest had died in the night. There was no steam in the donkey-engine, and the men pulled away at the tackles in silence, looking now and then at the bridge. It seemed that the whole ship was standing on tiptoe, wait- ing for something—something ominous, portentous. One of the sailors tripped over a rope and fell sprawling; his fellows turned and cursed him vehemently, their voices rising high. York frowned down at them but made no move to stop them. “Ten dead,” said York. “Only ten and there are eight hundred of them. Some of them will last for a week yet. This ship is a hell adrift. And all because I’m afraid to have a red cross after my name at Lloyd’s!”’ The last carcass swung outboard and plumped into the sea. The men, moving slowly, stowed the tackle. The warm odor of a barnyard came up out of the open hatch and, though that was the only natural thing in the whole nightmare, yet it seemed the most distorted of all. It should have been an odor of death. I saw the Finn standing by the forecastle, looking at the bridge. Presently the dog threw his nose in the air and howled. York jumped to the forward rail of the bridge. ‘For God’s sake, close that hatch!’* he shouted. The Finn smiled as the watch on deck be- gan to replace the grating and the tarpaulin; then he turned and went into the forecastle. THE wind blew hard that night. When it had blown a few days before the cattle had been frightened and noisy, but now they remained silent as the grave. ‘The men were all busy most of the Adventure time, and I don’t suppose they noticed it. York did, and so did that uncanny Fu.nn. I gave up all effort to sleep about four in the morning, and came on deck, where I met York with a lantern in his hand, bound for the hold. ‘““Tve got to go below,” he said. got to see, and try to stop thinking.” I went down with him. The cattle were lying down for the most part—some of them dead—but here and there a gaunt steer was standing, his eyes gleaming in the lantern light as no steer’s eyes have a right to gleam. The fancy came over me that they had ceased to be mere oxen, the most patient and un- emotional things on God’s earth, and had become human by suffering. York paused by one of the bodies, and looked down at it for some moments. ‘“‘T was in Canton once,” he said, “during an outbreak of the plague. Let’s get on!” He moved away quickly, I after him. We passed down the runway between the stalls, almost to the end. There one of the stronger brutes, who had been standing with his thickened tongue hanging out, dropped as if he had been pole-axed and groaned and died where he fell. York turned and, without a word, ran for the ladder that led out of the hold. That struck me with a kind of panic and I ran also, jostling him and trying to pass him in the runway. At the foot of the ladder he paused for a moment trying to find the bot- tom rung, and there I caught up with him. We wrestled for the privilege of going first up that ladder; wrestled insensately, till he relaxed his grip with a little staccato laugh. A woman’s hysterical laugh, it was, or a boy’s. It brought us back to our senses and we climbed to the deck where the dawn was lightening. ‘The dog was waiting for us at the top of the ladder, whining and steady eyed. “*T’ll kill them all to-day!” said York. “The insurance?”’ I queried. “*T’ll kill them to-day! I’ve had enough!” One by one they took the brutes out of the hold, when the sea had become quiet enough to make it possible. A cattleman stood by with a sledge-hammer and knocked them on the head as they swung over the deck. Most of them sank like stones. Almost the last was a monstrous fellow, with five-foot horns. ‘The rope parted before the cattle- man had hit him. He landed on the deck on his feet, and the men scattered. He (7 I’ve cComicloooks (©