Adventure Magazine Cover, March 20, 1925 — page 34: what you’re looking at

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

16 “Tt is known to me,” observed the armiger when silence fell, ‘‘that his majesty doth pray for the success of this venture. And any man who puts an impediment in the way of this voyage is a traitor, no less. Who saith otherwise, lies.” “T will venture where any man dare set foot,” cried Cornelius Durforth and beat upon the table with his knotted fist. No one, seeing the muscles set in his sun tanned face, doubted that he was capable of making good his words. “Do not spill the wine,” put in Ralph Thorne, his hand on his glass. “And do not bring in question again the wishes of the king, which you should know as well as a ee Durforth frowned at the youth and went on without heeding him. “Tl luck dogs us this season. The ships had the wind over the hawse standing down the Thames, and three of our mariners be taken sick. These be portents. Turn back, say I.” Again he smote the table until the jugs and glasses leaped and clattered. “T pray you,” said the armiger softly, “do not spill the wine.” “Still your springald’s tongue when elders speak!’’ cried his father angrily. “Will you bide for word from the king?” Durforth demanded of the pilot-major. “Sir Hugh will not, nor will I hang back. If it is not God’s will we win to Cathay this season, we may yet find new lands and Christian princes to offer us haven.’’ The ship’s master, fingering the gold chain at his throat, shrugged, and the si- lence that fell upon them was broken by Ralph Thorne. “Do not spill the wine again, sir.” Anger glowed in Durforth’s dark eyes. “Your loutish words, sir, hint at the man- ner of your birth. Was it in a ditch, or perhaps a gutter that you first looked upon the world?” The youth from the court raised his glass in his fingers and tossed its contents into the face of the ship master who sat across the table from him. ‘Nay, my lord, this should be evidence that I have not learned manners from the Fox.” Durforth gained his feet, and, wiping the liquid from his cheeks, found no words to reply. His hand groped for his sword hilt and he whipped the blade clear, kicking Adventure back the chair upon which he had sat. The armiger drew his rapier and placed it, point to pommel, against the quivering weapon of the older man. ‘“‘Art’ content, Master? Our swords be of a length.” “By the eyes of ——, would you stand against me, Thorne?”’ ““Aye, so, unless,” the youth made re- sponse gravely, “you are pleased to confess to this company the manner in which you learned my name.” Fleetingly Durforth glanced from the ccsmographer to his son, and Master Thorne answered the unspoken question. ‘‘Lad,” his old voice quavered with anxi- ety, ““what is this?” Then, beholding the settled purpose, stern in the youth’s face, he flew into a rage at the unforseen quarrel. “Better you had died in the gutter, than thus to affront honorable gentlemen. Nay, you are no son of mine.” “Tis the cosmographer’s whelp!”’ cried an Orfordnesse man. ‘Have him to the dogs!” But Durforth swore a great oath and announced that however the villain had been whelped, he would put him into the earth before an hour had passed, and sum- moned Chancellor to act as his second. ‘““?Tis clear, my lord,” cried the armiger, “that you have profited from the teaching of Master Fox. Nay, I have no second, so must perform the office myself—not for the first time. Beside the inn is a fair meadow, and the evening light is good.” NOW at the second mention of the Fox, Chancellor looked thoughtfully at the youth, as if he would ask a question. But, meeting with no sign of understanding, he turned away, palpably puzzled. The surgeon from the fleet was at the tavern and accompanied them to the clear stretch of grass that Ralph Thorne pointed out. The red bearded merchant was selected to give the word that would set the two men against each other. Ralph stripped him- self to his shirt and stood for a moment to let the breeze cool his forehead. Chancellor and the surgeon were arguing with Durforth in lowered voices, seeking to have the quarrel patched up before harm was done, pointing out that Thorne was scarce a man grown, but Durforth would have none of them. CORNIECLO© (©