Adventure Magazine, December 10, 1924 — page 192: what you’re looking at

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

170 in the confusion of a series of scraping sounds along the door-coaming. There were sounds of scuffling. Wade disregarded all this, content that the mate had been stabbed. It was evident that Doxey was seriously wounded, though the noises told of a desperate struggle. “Both done for!” breathed Wade and turned his thoughts toward doing something on his own account. Now that Doxey was out of the way, the duel with Jessup could be resumed. In the few seconds of time that had elapsed since Doxey shot past him, Wade had been seeking again to locate Jessup for a snap shot. He had not gone up the companionway, Wade was sure, for against the bit of sky that appeared at . intervals through the scuttle when the schooner’s bows dropped between swells, Wade could see the outline of the brown and almost naked figure of the helmsman braced on the steps, peering down into the main-cabin, his teeth shining whitely through the murk of curling smoke that swirled upward. The draft through the open skylight tucked the powder fumes up in crazy eddies, and once more the gimbal-lamp shed a muddied illumination over the pit of the main-cabin. Wade was aware now of shouts and sounds of running bare feet out on deck. There came a confused babble of native voices. The door of the cabin where Langton had appeared and fired, began to clatter back against the bulkhead with each lift and fall of the schooner’s stern. “Where is that parson?”’ wondered Wade as he searched the dark corners of the main cabin The missionary had probably slipped into one of the cabins on the port side, where he was arming himself, or waiting his chance to spring out with some sort of a club. There was one thing lacking which puz- zled Wade, intent as he was upon finishing Jessup: There had come no sounds of sobbing or screaming from the missionary’s wife. It was to be expected that a woman, who had just called to her husband, would be demanding to know where he was after the sound of shots. “She’s probably fainted—or died of heart disease, just as the parson said she would.” With that, Wade dismissed the matter. He was more worried over the fact that Adventure both the mate and Doxey were silent. He wondered if he had to fight the whole schooner alone. While the excited gabble went on on the quarter-deck, and black heads peered over the edge of the open skylight, Wade re- mained braced against the bulkhead, bent low, watching his chance for a shot. “Where are you?” came Doxey’s voice. And now Wade knew for sure that his companion was sorely stricken. “T’m all right,”’ said Wade, and held his revolver higher, expecting that Jessup would attack on hearing the voice. A new sound came into the cabin; the patter of bare feet along the passage. Wade did not look in that direction, for he did not dare take any chance of missing Jessup, but turned his head a trifle more forward so that the tail of his eye would take in what came. A figure appeared in the opening, and leaped at the gimbal-lamp. The wick shot up and the swaying flame revealed a Chinese, stripped to the waist. His eyes peered into the farthest corners of the cabin as he bent forward with startled gaze, still half asleep. Jessup rose up from behind the end of a transom-seat and fired at Wade. It was a poor and ill-calculated shot. The bullet whanged into the woodwork and thudded dully against the panel of a door. “The mate handed him that gun in the doorway,” thought Wade. He let fly two bullets. Jessup, just on his feet, lurched forward and fell on his face. But as he fell, he discharged his revolver without aim. Wade dropped, his feet sliding out from under him over the carpet. He felt the hot metal searing through his thigh. The toes of his left leg quivered as if they had been crushed, and the nerves of his leg seemed turned to incandescent wires, burning their way out of the flesh. The Chinese came hurtling through the air. Wade lifted his revolver to bring the big fellow down, but did not press the trigger. Wade had supposed the Chinese was attacking him; instead, to his amazement, Kwan-po leaped upon the prone figure of Jessup and rained a furious whirlwind of blows upon the missionary’s head with both fists. Jessup groaned and struggled to protect himself, and the pair of them thrashed about on the carpet, the cook CoOMmicboolk< ) (© 5}