Adventure Magazine Cover — page 77: what you’re looking at

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

“Quarter of two. And cut thet stompin’ er yell rouse all hands.” 7 The lad stretched again and yawned loudly with a calm unconcern of whom he awakened. : “Where are wer” he asked presently. “North of Watling, I heered the mate say,’ answered the other, and he slumped down upon a stool and reached for his pipe. A form in a bunk at his back twisted un- easily. The boy started toward the door, stopped and turned. “North of what?” he asked. “North of Watling, ye fool!” roared the man. He made a menacing move and the boy scuttled through the open doorway. The man in the berth stirred, sighed heavily and sat up. The impending squall came down with a rush from the northeast and the Estrella del Norte began to pitch and roll in the quarter- ing swell. The wind came first in puffs, then in a steady thunder of wind and flying spray that sent the half empty freighter heeling far over to leeward. A flash of blue lightning streaked downward and _ licked the tops of the foam crested waves in the distance. From the open door of the sailor’s fore- castle came a man in a long oilskin and a sou’wester. He was a tall man, lean of statue and with cheeks drawn like those of a tired race horse, and he made his way along the heaving deck with the assurance of a born sailor. He went aft to the bridge, mounted the ladder and stepping into the pilot house stopped before the chart board illuminated by the downcast rays of a shaded electric amp. With parallel rulers and dividers he stepped off several distances in the rapid manner of the skilled navigator, then dropped them with a sigh. “North of Watling,’ he murmured. “North of Watling.” ‘The man at the wheel glanced over his shoulder at the dim form bending over the chart board and then. re- sumed his steering. Above, on the bridge, Captain Bleibtree, a big, full-faced man with a loose mouth and small pig-like eyes, clenched both hands tightly about the stanchion before him and turned to his mate. “Mr. Nordstrom,” he said in a thin, high- pitched voice, “will you go and see to the ‘tween-deck ports?. Have Chips dog ’em down again and look the ship over while “North of Watling you're below. The way she’s rolling—” He looked fearfully at the mounting swells and his lips quivered. “She’s safe as a church,” said Mr. Nord- strom, and his mouth was sneering. “But T’ll look her over Cap’n, just the same.” He clumped angrily across the bridge and down the port ladder. The captain crouched in the corner and hung on. He felt the presence of some one and turning saw a tall form, erect and swaying easily to the roll of the vessel, at his elbow. “We'll have to leave her, Cap’n” the stranger said in a voice that sounded strangely familiar. ‘She’s down by the head and all the weight of the ship is on the forward water-tight bulkhead. It can’t hold long—I put my hand on it and it’s trembling. When it gives she'll go down like a shot.” There was a familiar ring of authority to the voice and the words sent the captain back against the rail in fright. “What— what?” he gasped. “We must take to the boats.” The man leaned close and stared into Captain Bleibtree’s face. “‘Why, you're afraid?’ he exclaimed wonderingly. “We'll take to the boats, d’ya hear. Right away. Bosun, bosun—” He looked behind him and seemed surprised that no one was there. ‘‘Where are you, Bose? He was Le CS micbooks.co (@)