Adventure Magazine, December 10, 1924 — page 76: what you’re looking at

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

54 “Search the ship, then, and be lively. I won’t leave without him!” Andy jumped hastily for the deck valve, but there was not time to shut it. A lan- tern bobbed over the break of the well-deck, and he was compelled to dash aft, where he was found hiding behind the hatch combing. “Got him? That’s well,” approved the captain. ‘All right—put him in my boat, and—all hands abandon ship!”’ As helping hands lifted Andy from the logy deck into the lifeboat he dropped on a thwart and bowed his head in his hands. Hurriedly the crew sprang in after him and overhauled the oars. In a daze, he saw Stivers leave the bridge and leisurely inspect the well-deck. He knew that the captain was proving by the evidence of his own eyes that the seacock was open, but now that he was in the lifeboat it really made little dif- ference, as far as Andy could see, whether the valve was open or not. The Sedalia was going down, and by the irony of events it was his own hand which had scuttled her. Captain Stivers walked unhurriedly to his place in the boat and gave the order to lower away. Once Andy caught his eye, and it seemed to him the captain was chuckling. That ridicule was the spur Andy needed to set his wits to work. He was not beaten yet! For the last time he tore at his hand- cuffs, but vainly. Nevertheless, as the creaking falls lowered the boat to the sea he gathered himself together. His last card had become the crew’s conviction that he was really insane. As the boat neared the water he gave the best imitation he could of an insane laugh. The man next Andy started, and drew away, for in that dark- ness, with the lifeboat bumping the sides and the seas splashing below, the shrill cachinations of mirth set the hair to prick- ling on the scalp. Drawing a long breath,:Andy gathered his legs beneath him, and the instant the boat struck the water, he jumped to his feet with a shrill scream and dived over the side. With his manacled hands held straight in front, he swam as best he could under water, heading toward the stern. Shouts and confusion arose behind him, dominated by Stivers’ bellow— “Out oars! Give way together! Let him go, men—we’ve done our best. Fend off there in the bow before we smash. Give way, —— you, give wayl” Adventure It was hard swimming in that heaving sea, and his shoes dragged at Andy’s legs like lead. He was gasping as he rounded the stern. He began to wonder, not in fear, but in an impersonal way, if he had been watching the whole drama from above, whether this fellow called Andy Prescott who was splashing weakly in the water was going to be able to swim to the after life- boat falls or not. He expected the other lifeboats had drawn away from the ship, and he could hear the blocks of the falls thumping against the ship’s side at the water’s edge, but that did not promise to do him much ggod if he had not strength to reach them. How Andy managed to swim that last ten feet in the darkness, how he managed to find and catch the hook on the end of the boat falls as it swung to and fro above him, how he mustered strength to climb them _ with hands, feet and teeth and tumble over the bulwark above, was a nightmare he was never able-to recall clearly. He did it. He staggered along the de- serted decks and shut the sea valve, but by now the Sedalia’s bow was all but awash, and she moved so heavily under Andy’s feet that he expected at any moment to hear the after bulkhead go, or feel the ship lurch on her side, and sink. Over the rail he could see the boat lights in a little cluster half a mile away where Stivers was waiting to see the ship go down. Wearily Andy walked the sloping decks to the blacksmith’s shop, and fumbled in the darkness until he found a heavy pair of tinsmith’s sheers. After several attempts he was able to put the links of the hand- cufs between the jaws and stamp on the handle with his feet until the chain was cut. Well, with that accomplished he was free, at least, and master of the ship as long as she stayed afloat. As near as he could judge it was about an heur before dawn, and in all probability no ship would arrive on the scene for at least four hours. While it was dark, Stivers would lie where he was encouraging his men, and wondering more and more to himself why the ship was so slow in sinking. If she was still afloat at dawn—and Andy hoped most whole-heartedly that she would be—Stivers would board her again to finish the job. Andy climbed to the radio shack and spent the next half hour sending a short CoOMmichook A) (© =