Adventure Magazine Cover, November 10, 1924 — page 159: what you’re looking at

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

Eight Seconds “Time!” he called after nearly a minute had passed. The third mate wrote on the paper the hours, minutes and seconds that he read on the face on the chronometer. “Altitude,” called Captain Mac, holding his sextant in the oval of light that shone from the compass binnacle, “39-03-30.” The third mate repeated it, and wrote it down. “Jupiter next,” said Captain Mac, and he turned his back on the Pole Star, over the stern, and faced forward. Again Tommy Downs took the time and the altitude and wrote them down; then Captain Mac took the paper and} the chro- nometer and went into the chart room to work out his observations. : “Has the wireless operator been able to get in touch with the cutter yet?” he called through the open door. “No, sir,” answered Tommy. “He says the cutter was talking all afternoon, and now, he says, she won’t answer.” “Humph!”’ snorted the little captain; then, after a moment, “Let me know when the time warning goes, Mr. Downs.” “Ves, sir.”’ Tommy Downs glanced at his cheap nickel-plated watch, then fell to pacing the bridge. The night being clear, the lookout was standing his watch on the forecastle- head, and only Tommy and the wheelman were on the bridge. The oval of light from the binnacle shone full on the wheel- man’s square, Scandinavian face, leaving the rest of him invisible, and now and then a big hand gripping a spoke passed through the beam of light as he took or gave a spoke. Soon the light in the chart room went out as the captain finished working his sight and retired to his cabin, abaft the chart room, and Tommy Downs, after a hurried sweep of the horizon, started for the door. “Keep an eye ahead, Larken,”’ he said to the Dane at the wheel. “I want to get my pipe from the chart table drawer.” “Ay, sir,” answered Larken; and before Tommy reached the door, “Light on the port bow, sir, I think.” : “T think that’s a star just popped over the horizon,” said Tommy, turning back, “‘but T’ll take a look with the glasses.”’ He took the glasses from the box and put them to his eyes, and stood for a while looking at the light on the eastern horizon; 157 then, satisfied, he put the glasses back in their box. “Looks like Venus,” he said, and strode to the chart room door. With his foot on the threshold, he halted, and started back. Some one was there, leaning over the chart table and studying the chart by the faint light that filtered be- tween his fingers from an electric torch cupped in one hand. With the other hand the man was stepping off distances with a pair of dividers. Tommy silently withdrew the foot he had placed on the threshold; for by leaving the bridge while on watch, even for an instant, he was breaking a sea law, and the man by the chart table was probably Captain Mac; though why, thought Tommy, should he strain his eyes the way he was doing when he could flood the table with light by pushing a button not two feet from his hand? Curi- ous, he hesitated, and stood for a moment looking into the room. And then, just as he was about to tiptoe back to the bridge, a ray of light broke be- tween the man’s fingers and Tommy saw that the man was not the captain, but a stranger. In the instant that the light flickered upon the man’s face there stood out a flat, crooked nose, a ghastly white forehead and a lean brown cheek. Tommy stepped boldly into the room, clutched the stranger with one hand and snapped on the light with the other. ‘“‘Now who the are your” he de- manded. The man did not start at the touch of Tommy’s hand; in fact, he remained as still -and motionless as the table he was leaning upon. Then, very slowly, he faced about. He was calm and unperturbed, almost in- different; nevertheless, in the set of his body, and in his slow movement, there was a suggestion of tenseness and alertness. His gaze rested first on Tommy’s shoes, then traveled slowly up the youth’s six feet of bony frame to a point between his eyes. “Mer” he said then. “I’m—Brown.” “Brown? ‘That doesn’t mean anything to me.” “No-o? Well, you see, I was the—a member of the crew of the Sabine, and I was picked up in a boat by——” “Oh! So you’re the fellow we picked up today! I was asleep, but I heard about it. But what’s that got to do with sneaking in here and pawing over our charts?”’ CoOMmicbhook Wh) (© 5}