Adventure Magazine Cover, November 10, 1924 — page 155: what you’re looking at

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

Eight Seconds that make shipmasters old before their time. Captain Mac’s frown suddenly deepened; he stood for a moment with his head on one side and his eyes half-closed, then turned to the second mate. ‘“‘What did you hear?” he asked sharply. ‘“‘I—I thought I heard a steamer, sir,” answered the .second mate, slightly be- wildered. “In which direction?” “Ahead, sir—I think,” and he pointed over the bow. ‘“‘No, no,” said the captain impatiently; and he called to the lookout, in the port wing—‘‘Hear anything” “No, sir.” The little captain lowered the weather- cloth by casting off the stops that held it suspended from the ridge-rope; then he leaned far over the bridge rail and stared fiercely ahead and over the port bow. The second mate tightened his grip on the handle of the engine-room telegraph and glanced at the space on the indicator marked “Full astern.” The lookout in the port wing stood stiffly, motionless, and with a fixed forward tilt of his head. The man at the wheel spread wide his feet, braced him- self, and with upturned palms tensely gripped a spoke on each side of the big wheel. He expected an order, a sudden order, and was prepared to start the helm in either direction at the first syllable. It seemed, in spite of the slow, steady throb of the engine, that the Hawk was stationary; that she was merely teetering seesaw-like on an axle run_ thwartship through her middle. She was stationary; it was the world of fog that was moving, passing astern. Again the second mate leaned on the whistle-lever; again the whistle loosed its mournful howl. The sound had hardly died when there came an answer, a startled, frightened blast from close off the port bow. It was fol- lowed quickly by four short blasts, and out of the sea of gray slid an oblong of white— the bow of a ship. “Hard aport—full ahead!’ cried Cap- tain Mac; and he snatched the whistle- lever from the second mate’s hand and gave one short blast, to tell the stranger-ship what he was doing to avoid the impending collision. “The darn fools will take chances,” grunted the captain. 153 The Hawk’s stern swung to port, her bow to starboard. The engine throbbed faster; the vessel trembled and her speed began to increase. The other ship was backing frantically. Swiftly the two ships came together; but as they neared each other the Hawk swung so that she was nearly parallel with the other’s course and heading in almost the same direction. Only a few seconds passed, it seemed, before the Hawk’s port quarter was so close to the stranger’s starboard bow that an agile man could have leaped the intervening distance, and the distance was decreasing. “Hard a-starboard!” ordered the captain then. The Hawk’s stern swung to starboard, and she rushed ahead, and passed around the other vessel’s bow like a vehicle going around a corner. “Stop!” ordered Captain Mac when the ships were clear. ; The stranger ceased backing, swung about and came slowly after the Hawk; and as she approached, a man appeared in the wing of the bridge with a megaphone. “Good work, cap’n!” cried the officer when he was within hearing distance. “What the —-— have you got a whistle for?” retorted Captain Mac, ignoring the compliment. “Why don’t you use it? D’you want to be cut in two?” “This is the United States Coast Guard Cutter Binghampion. Have you seen a man adrift in a small boat?”’ CONT Oo The cutter was sheering off now, and the man’s voice came faintly; part of what he shouted next was lost. “Well, we’re looking for him. If you see him . The officer gave a final wave of his mega- phone, and the cutter disappeared in the enveloping fog. “Now, why the didn’t he give fog signals before we almost ran him downp” asked Captain Mac thoughtfully. ‘““Maybe he did,” said the second mate. “Tn this fog, you know——” ‘Rot! Sound carries as far in fog as it does in clear weather—sometimes farther. Why, I could hear the pound of his engine and the thrash of his propeller before I saw him. Slow ahead, Mr. Scott, and sound your whistle.” An answering jingle came from the Comicbook (© 5}