Adventure Magazine, April 10, 1924 — page 85: what you’re looking at

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

The Professor’s Bomb as stiff as the main-mast, an’ in a few minutes more he keels over fin out—dead.” “‘Set-fire! Ye don’t say!” exclaimed Mr. Deedham his eyes flaring with the light of interest. “What kinder powder d’yer s’pose is inside the bomb to make it perform them miracles?” “Tt ain’t powder at all,” explained the captain, surveying the lethal instrument proudly. “It’s full o’ chem’cals er—a mixture 0’ salts o’ strychnine an’ bi-oxide o’ oxalic sunthin’, an’ another ingrediunt which o’ course the inventor wouldn’t tell an’ you can’t blame him. But it’s some invention, I tell ye, Mr. Deedham, an’ it’s come in the right time too, for whale-ile is bound to rise when them min’ral ile wells run dry.” ‘“‘When they do,” the mate modified. ‘‘Who’s the inventor of this wonder, I’d like to know? Couldn’t been a whaleman; they ain’t extra larned about chem’cals I should say.” “‘Perfesser Enderby’s his name. I never seen him before one mornin’ we was all a-settin’ in the back of Kelley’s shop, the place ye know where us cap’ns hang out in New Bedford, when in walks a tall, fun’ral- lookin’ critter an’ bows to all hands. He introduces hisself as a gran’son of old Dick Enderby what was cap’n o’ a New London whaler in the early forties. He explains that, in cons’quence he’s turrible interested in whales an’ has resigned his job as perfess- er o’ chem’stry in the Mass’chusetts In’- stoot o’ Tecology to invent these here bombs which he has six 0’ ’em wrapped up in a newspaper onder his arm. “The perfesser soon has us cap’ns inter- ested for he was one o’ the most convincin’ talkers I ever see an’ he showed us as plain as day just how them there bombs would fix a fractious whale. But sho, I didn’t go altogether by that jaw-tackle o’ his for. if I do say it myself ’'ma mighty good judge o’ human nater, Mr. Deedham. An’ so I sizes this perfesser up fore an’ aft an’ ath-wartships-like an’ I could tell he was gen’wine all right. “He didn’t offer to sell the bombs—just wanted us to take ’em an’ try ’em on a whale an’ write him the result. But as we could see plain ’nuff he’d spent all his money exper’mentin’ an’ such-like, an’ takin’ into consideration that if them bombs would do what he said, they meant from one to eight thousan’ dollars ev’ry shot, us six skippers 83 each took one an’ give him ten dollars apiece for ’°em. Then he gives us his address—I got it below somewhere—asks us all to be sure an’ write an’ goes out mighty perlite an’ thankful.” “‘Set-fire! Ten dollars!” The mate regarded the bomb dubiously. “Wal, cap’n, if this here bomb is such a tremenjous weapon as ye say how is it ye ain’t tried it out? You had a chance when we got inter that pod o’ whales on the Western grounds—off the Azores—an’ got three o’ em. I should ’a’ thought then was the time to shoot them chem’cals.” Captain Mallett smiled tolerantly. ““Mebbe so, but it’s like this, Mr. Deed- | ham. While I’m dead sure in my own mind that them bombs will do all the perfesser claims still, ye see, I got the owners to con- sider. For if there is sech a possible thing that this here bomb ain’t nothin’ extra- ord’nary an’ I should use it on a sperm whale an’ he got clean away in cons’quence -—-well, ye can see how ’tis yourself. I’m a-waitin’ to try it out on a fin-back or a sulphur-bottom, or I might use it in a *mergency-like. We'll see.”’ He lighted another cigar, regarded his mate thoughtfully for a long moment, and then remarked— “‘Considerin’ all the circumstances, Mr Deedham, what’s your opinion of this re- mark’ble invention?” Mr. Deedham stopped fumbling with his iron-gray side-whiskers, cast a look aloft to the lookouts at the mastheads and turned a lugubrious countenance to the captain. _ “Set-fire, cap’n! Bein’ as you’ve asked my opinion [’ll tell ye right out I don’t think that there bomb is wuth a ——!” “No? What’s wrong with it?” flashed back the captain, his broad, red face flaring up like a sunset. ‘Tell me, sir, what’s wrong with it?” He bounced up angrily from his chair and snatched the bomb from the mate’s hand. ‘“What’s wrong with it?’ he demanded again. ‘‘Set-fire, I dunno!’ returned the mate, also rising and biting off a huge chew of tobacco. ‘We'll probably find ¢haé out when we try it. Jlain’t got no faith in them inventor - cranks no-way, nor chem’eals neither unless mebbe it’s Epsom salts.” Captain Mallett snorted in disgust. “Hey, Smuts!” he barked to the steward who happened to be passing, “take this GomiGcdooksEeo