Adventure Magazine, December 10, 1924 — page 69: what you’re looking at

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

= 5 towed Da aM HN wae Away by RALPH R.PERRY 6é ONG ANDY” PRESCOTT L. unconsciously quickened his pace as he stepped off the narrow iron drawbridge that spans the locks at St. Nazaire. He was cold; for the thin, chill, persistent, passionless rain of the French coast in autumn was rolling in from the Bay of Biscay, and two weeks in a hos- pital recovering from an attack of ptomain poisoning had left him with little strength to resist inclement weather. During his illness his ship had sailed without him; hospital bills had left him broke—but these troubles were no longer serious. They would cease to exist when he had crossed forty feet of dirty stone quay and boarded the patched little tramp steamer Sedalia. Any American skipper would be glad to give a brother sailor down on his luck a passage home, but on the Sedalia Andy expected to find friends. He had made his first trip to sea in her, ten years before. Her owner was a Kenne- bunkport man. At the head of that gang- way he would see old Captain Vesock’s bristling white mustache again, get a hearty thump on the back, a cup of coffee, and then swop yarns of old times all the way across the Western Ocean. He mounted in six swinging strides and jumped down on to the deck. ‘“‘<N? where might you be goin’, Bud?” came a menacing growl. The front legs of a chair, which had been tilted back against the superstructure, hit the deck with a bang as a short, burly officer sprang to his feet and strode so close to Andy that their chests all but touched. 47 Andy had a glimpse of thick arms, bent and swinging clear of the man’s side as he walked, and a heavy chin covered with wiry, straw-colored bristles. ‘Andy Prescott’s my name. Was second officer the Clyesdale, and got left on the beach, sick. I’m looking for Captain Vesock, if he’s aboard.” “Well, he ain’t.” The answer was surly, as if the man were thoroughly glad of the fact, and as he spoke he stepped forward, so that to keep his distance Andy was forced to move back and to mount the step leading to the gangway. “Say, I ain’t nobody’s nigger,” he re- torted. ‘I’m looking for the Old Man be- cause I’m on the beach and want tosign on for the passage back. You’re going to the States, aren’t you? The old wagon al- ways did when I sailed in her.” Andy was trying to force a smile, for after all he was asking a favor, though it was one that will invariably be granted to a sailor on the beach in a foreign port. But as he looked at the other man, the smile died and Andy’s fists clenched. Dull tur- quoise blue eyes were just visible through a slit left beneath heavy, puffy lids. There was a cast in the right eye so that it slanted upward, like a Jap’s. “When will Captain Vesock be back?” Andy added frostily. The other gave a short laugh, curt and mirthless as the bark of a dog. ‘He won’t be back. I’m the skipper. See?”? Once more he moved forward, crowding Andy on to the gangway. ‘“Cap- tain Stivers—Al Stivers of New York, and Go LNOO 5}