Adventure Magazine Cover, November 10, 1924 — page 162: what you’re looking at

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

160 “(Whatever you have to say, say it here and now—and say it in a hurry, because the sun’s nearly on the meridian and I want to catch it.” “Say it and get it over with—just like that, eh?” “Just like that.” “That’s the way I like to hear a man talk—straight from the shoulder! This great-circle style o’ chewin’ the rag be Now I’m going to talk to you the same way you talk tome. You say I’m going to Port- au-Prince; J say—I’m not! Hear me now— I say I’m not going to Port-au-Prince! My reason is my own—but I’m not going!” “The only way you can keep from going there,”’ said Captain Mac calmly, ‘“‘is to jump over the side. I can’t stop you from doing that; and to tell you the truth, I don’t care a of a lot whether you do or not. I like neither your looks or your style. I have neither the authority nor the desire to put you in irons as long as you’re peaceful, but if you get rough, start trouble, I’ll clap ?em on you so quick you won’t know how it happened.” Brown made his cat-like grimace, and pursed his lips. : “Besides,” continued the little captain, “T don’t put much stock in this Sabine story of yours about “s “ Sabine?”’ exclaimed Tommy Downs, star- ing from Brown to Captain Mac. “Sabine? Is he from the Sabine?” “Of course he is,” said Scott. ‘“Didn’t you see the name on the boat— Oh, that’s right; you were asleep. Sure he’s from the Sabine.” ‘‘Sabine—Brown—Breen! You’re Ted Breen, the dope-runner!” cried Tommy; and he put down his sextant and clutched “Brown” by the collar. “Let go!’ grunted Breen. scut!”’ He wrenched himself free, and sprang back. The skin of his flat, crooked nose became twitching brown ridges. One eye- brow lifted and the other dropped, and he sucked wind so fiercely that it whistled through his puckered lips. “T)’you see?” he cried to Captain Mac. “T ain’t botherin’ anybody; I’m keeping the peace—it’s this big cow that’s starting trouble!” And then to Tommy: “Stay ’way, now, you big lummox! Stay ’way— I warn you! All right, then, you fool; if you will have it . “Let go, you Adventure He set himself with wide-spread feet, and as Tommy, overcome by his anger, rushed, he drove one fist with terrific force to the third mate’s stomach and swung the other club-like across his face. Tommy went down rolled over and scrambled to his knees, but as he gained his feet Mr. Tenny and Scott pounced upon him and held him tight. : “You saw it, Cap’n, you saw it,” said Breen. ‘No irons, One-Two Mac, no irons—I didn’t start any trouble——”’ He stopped in amazement as he saw the expression on the little shipmaster’s face. For Captain Mac was smiling; a faint, thin, crooked little smile that was beyond Breen’s comprehension. What could it mean? Here was a man who smiled while other men were fighting. And then he saw that the smile was one of sarcasm, and that the sarcasm was directed at him; and in that instant, as they looked at each other, ignor- ing the three men struggling in the center of the bridge, there crowded into Breen’s mind all the wild, almost unbelievable tales he had heard of One-Two Mac, the fighting little bucko sea-captain, and he believed them. He saw that the smile was assured, the somber eyes calm, the lean chin firm and square; that the little man’s shoulders were broader than they seemed and his arms— loose-swinging and unusually long; and that the knuckles of the long hand holding the sextant so steadily were large and criss- crossed by many small scars. This was the man, Brown knew now, with whom he would have to deal in the end; this was the man who he would have to best if he were to carry through the scheme he had devised. And how much depended upon the success of that scheme! His liberty; more—his very life! Breen spoke, very quietly and deliber- ately, his gaze steady on Captain Mac’s face: “It looks like the cat’s out of the bag, One-Two Mac. He knows who I am—” indicating Tommy Downs—“‘though I don’t know how he found it out. He’s right—I’m Ted Breen. I owned and sailed the Sabine, and I burnt her to the water, and if it hadn’t been for the wind haulin’ on me, and me not having a compass, I’d ’ave got clean‘away. And I kind o’ think I’) get away yet. In fact, I’m sure of it. You'll never take Ted Breen into Port-au-Prince!’’ CoMmicboook Wh) (© 5}