Adventure Magazine, December 10, 1924 — page 70: what you’re looking at

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

48 I don’t need more hands, for Kennebunk- port or any other bunk port.” “But look here!’’ Andy remonstrated. The attitude of the other was so pre- posterous, so utterly at variance with an unwritten tradition of the sea, that he was sure he had not made himself clear. “T told you I’d been sick. That my ship had sailed. And I’m broke. You’re the only American ship in port, and unless you take me out I’ll be liable to kick my heels here for a month. My Lord, Cap- tain, be reasonable! I ain’t askin’ you for wages or a mate’s job! All I want is a passage home. The owners know me. Why, I went to school with old man Luce’s son and daughter. There’ll be no kick out of them!” Captain Stivers spat a fat quid of to- bacco over the side. “Nope,” he growled. “You mean——" “T mean I won’t take any dead-beats aboard. You get off my ship, and shake a leg! No more jawing. Git!’ he roared, suddenly giving Andy a shove that sent him halfway down the gangway. Andy caught the rope rail, and took one step back to administer a lesson in sea manners, but Captain Stivers was waiting with a ccld grin in anticipation of a fight in which he would have all the right on his side. Andy checked himself. Sick as he was, he thought he could lay out the skipper. But if he did, it only meant a term ina French jail. The muscles in his lean face writhed in his effort at self control, and Stivers’ insulting leer made it hard to turn on his heel and walk away. But Andy went, coughing, for the cold rain had wet through his coat. Skippers like that didn’t belong on the Luce ships. It was queer. And when Andy had said he was from Kennebunk- port, and knew the owners, Stivers had thrown him off the ship. That was un- usual, too. Andy found himself in front of an estaminet and decided he needed a cognac. From his seat near the window he watched the cargo going aboard the Sedalia, and observed that she was already low in the water. Prcbably she would finish load- ing that afternoon, and sail on the evening tide. Andy crossed his long legs, and rinned. “T hate to let Stivers—Al Stivers of New York—put it over me,’’ he muttered to Adventure himself. “I wonder what he’d say if I said ‘Howdy’ to him again about one day’s sail out of port. It would be a cinch to stow away.” With a quickened interest he watched the loading of the cargo. The after hold was full, and the iron hatch covers were being swung into place, but forward the ship’s wheezing windlasses were still loading in wooden cases which were comparatively light, to judge by the size of the sling-loads. ‘Dry goods, I guess,”’ Andy soliliquized. He recalled that similar boxes piled on the quay had been so labelled. It was rather an unusual cargo for a ship as old and slow as the Sedalia. Silk and manu- factured clothing were valuable, and usu- ally crossed on large new ships, even on liners. But what was even more to the point, a cased cargo, light in weight, meant that the cargo spaces would be crammed too full for him to hide in the hold, even though he could get there. Andy grinned to himself. It was easy to stow away on a ship you had sailed on, and probably knew better than the present set of officers them- selves. | Idly he saw a case fall from the slings and crash on to the deck, but at the excitement such a trivial accident caused he craned his neck in interest. Al Stivers himself—for it was impossible to mistake his bulky figure —had run to the broken box. Instantly a lanky mate had joined him. Both had thrown a furtive glance at the stevedores, and moved so that their bodies screened the broken package from their eyes. The mate had produced a hammer and nailed up the box, and then Stivers actually picked it up himself, carried it to the hatchway and passed it below. “First skipper I ever saw handle cargo,” muttered Andy. “I guess it must be silk, at that, and they were taking no chances on losing a bolt.” He finished his drink, and walked back into the town to get his clothes, a pair of blankets and a little food. Those he would need in the lifeboat where he intended to hide before the Sedalia went to sea. Cay about an hour before high tide that a dock watchman saw a figure slip unobtrusively up the quay, climb a rope hanging from the Sedalia’s low well deck, and disappear behind her bulwarks. For IT WAS shortly after midnight and CoMmicbook A) (© =