Adventure Magazine Cover, November 10, 1924 — page 170: what you’re looking at

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

168 to the east’ard. Let ’er go east-sou’east, when she gets around to it. There’s a nasty reef reaches out even this side of White Cay.”’ “But how did we get this far south, sir?’ “That’s it! How did wer” At that instant the four-to-eight wheel- man came up the bridge ladder, and as usual reported the reading of the taffrail log: ‘“‘One-three-six and nine-tenths, sir.” ‘“‘A hundred and thirty-seven miles since noon yesterday!’ exclaimed the captain. “And actually we’ve run about a hundred and sixty-five! We’ve overrun the log by twenty-eight miles. Has that log been oiled regularly?”’ “Yes, sir,” answered Scott. “I’ve oiled it myself every day before coming on watch.” “I'd think nothing of the log under- running a mile, or even two or three—but twenty-eight!” He turned to the seaman who had reported the reading, ‘Are you sure of that?” “Yes, sir,” answered the man promptly. Mr. Tenny came on the bridge as eight bells rang, and took over the watch from Scott. “Come along aft with me, Mr. Scott,” said the captain, “‘and we'll have a look at that log.” The patent log is a mechanical device that registers the distance—not the speed— that a ship has run through the water. It consists of a ‘“‘clock”’ and a rotator, the latter a propeller-like contrivance that is towed through the water, usually from the lee quarter, transmitting its revolutions, by means of a stout cord, to the “clock,”’ which is a series of gears and dials. The Hawk’s log was a true “taffrail” log; that is, it was towed from the taffrail—the after rail. “Haul it in,” ordered Captain Mac. “Perhaps the rotator is clogged with sea~ weed.” Scott passed the bight of the log-line through the quarter chock and hauled in hand under hand, Captain Mac standing behind him and coiling the line neatly as he received the slack. As they worked, the whistled notes of a sea chantey floated from the after store- room, on the port quarter abaft the after lifeboat; and soon a brown face became framed in one.of the port holes. Breen, no Adventure trace of sleep in his eyes, calmly watched them as they worked. Captain Mac knew the drug smuggler was at the port, had heard the whistling and the clink of handcuffs, but he went on with the coiling of the line and did not look up. | The rotator finally came in through the chock, and Mr. Scott held it up. “No, sir—it’s clear,” he said. “Ves,” said Captain Mac, straightening. He did not look at the rotator; instead, he looked calculatingly at the log-line that lay uncoiled on the deck. “Ves,” he repeated. “It’s not the ro- tator; it’s the line—it’s short.” “Short, sir?” “Ves; I fathomed it off with my arms as I coiled it down.” He stepped to the clock and looked at where the line was made fast to the ring of the hook. “The eye has been cut off,’ he said. ‘Then the line was shortened, half-hitched, and seized with a bit of marline. A good ‘sailor could have done that in thirty seconds.” “But who— Oh! Do you think——” “Yes, I do. He must have done it yesterday afternoon. He knew enough to wait till after we took our noon sights for latitude.” Leaving the rotator and line on deck, they started forward. As they came abreast of the face in the port hole Captain Mac stopped abruptly, and faced toward it. ‘“Two anchors to windward, eh, Breen?” he said. ‘‘And neither one of them held. See here?” He pointed a-beam to where White Cay, and behind it Watling Island, stood out against the lightening sky. “That’s Watling. Take a good look at it. The next time you see it you’ll be bound north, with a Department of Justice agent at your elbow. I'll turn you over to justice if it’s the last thing I do on this earth! You'll not escape—make up your mind to that!” “Aw, go to ——!’’_ said Breen calmly; and pursing his lips, he withdrew his face from the port. But Breen, for all of his air of non- chalance, was really worried now. His schemes, the schemes that he had had such confidence in, that he had given such earnest thought to, had failed; and here he was, with irons on his wrists, a prisoner. CoOMmicbhoolk Wh) CO 5}