Adventure Magazine Cover, April 1916 — page 96: what you’re looking at

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

94 der to make sure that his dory-mate was still alive. He did not need todo that, as he could see the blades of Collins’ oars at the end of his stroke, but he wanted to see his face. The sight was not encouraging. Westley was smiling and smoking and very much alive. ‘“‘___!__ There’s something wrong,” mut- tered Anderson savagely. ‘“Th’ p’izen don’t seem to hurt him.” The wind was going down and the sea ran in long swells, over which they pulled monotonously. They sighted a _ vessel, but she was far off and making a passage. Anderson was feeling the lack of a drink, and suffered acutely. He was beginning to think that the poison was neutralized to some extent by the amount of water it was mixed with. Later on he would take a small drink himself. If West Collins was strong enough to be proof against the poi- son, so was he, and a small drink would relieve his agonies. They pulled, with but a short spell now and again for a rest, until late in the after- noon. Not a vessel was to be seen, and around them rolled the blank expanse of tumbling blue-green sea. ‘Better hev another little drink,’’ said Anderson throatily. ‘“‘Go ahead, an’ pass me th’ jug.” Collins hove in his oars, reached for the dory-jar and took a good mouthful. “‘Thar’s plenty water left,’ he said, giving the jar a shake before handing it to the other. Anderson turned around in his seat and grasped the jug with his mittened hand. His fingers were almost frozen inside: his mittens, and he failed to hold the handle tight enough, and it slipped from his hands. Striking the dory gunwale as the little craft gave a lurch, the precious water-jar plopped into the sea and vanished with but a few bubbles marking where it disappeared. “God!” almost screamed Anderson. “It’s gone!” “It sure is!’ grunted Collins dolefully. Thirty-six hours without water made Anderson endure the torments of Dives. The hard work of pulling the dory made him sweat all the moisture out of his body. He was suffering, and Collins noticed it. “Feelin’ bad, Tommy, boy?” he asked kindly. “Yes, blast you, yes!’ snarled the other, and Westley looked at him curiously. Adventure “H’m,” he murmured sadly. ‘Poor Tommy’s breakin’ up quick. I sh’d ha’ thought he’d have hung out better’n this. He’s had th’ same as me, and I ain’t feelin’ anyways weak yit. Hope we sight a vessel soon, fur I can’t tell when we’ll make th’ land with them queer tides swingin’ us all ways.” Aloud he said: ‘Throw in yer oars, Tom. I'll pull her along, an’ you take a rest——”’ “I don’t want a rest!’ snapped the other. ‘““We’ve got to git out o’ this. Gimme that compass aft here——”’ He was going to say more, but his articu- lation failed him. When night shut down they were still rowing, and the wind was beginning to breeze again from the northeast. Collins noticed it, and shook his head. “A bad quarter. We’re goin’ to git another blow,” he said. V DAYLIGHT revealed a dory lift- ing and tumbling over a wind- whipped sea flecked with roaring crests of foam. The drogue was out again, and Westley Collins sat on the bow thwart and watched the line. In the stern crouched Tom Anderson, red-eyed and panting like a dog, his tongue was swollen and clove to the roof of his mouth. Every now and again, in spite of his dory-mate’s objections, he sucked at a handful of sleet. “Tommy, old man, don’t suck that stuff,” pleaded Collins. “It’s salty, an’ ’twill make ye feel worse.”’ Anderson answered with a hoarse, throaty growl. He was suffering intense agony, and his brain whirled with the idea that he owed his tortures to his companion. The mad hate which imbued him was increased a thousandfold now, and he longed to kill the man who was his successful rival in love and who seemed to be invulnerable against the various attempts he had made on his life. Strange it was that a man’s love for a flighty girl should conjure murderous thoughts and actions and result in such implacable hatred. Anderson was going mad. Throughout the long day the dory rode to the drogue while the wind blew a bitter gale from the northeast and a heavy sea tossed the frail craft like a chip. Sleet and snow fell at intervals, and Collins collected COMmichoooks CO