Adventure Magazine Cover — page 80: what you’re looking at

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

78 He went to his room and threw himself fully clothed on the settee, and after a lapse of some time, during which his distorted fancy ran wild with «dread imaginings of ghosts bent on revenge, of icy talons that reached for his throat and vague forms that glided silently by in the darkness, of spectral shapes with lean, tight-skinned jaws and jagged scars, he fell into a restless vision-haunted slumber, and lay, his body tortured by the vagaries of his mind, tossing and writhing in the darkness. » THERE was a feeling of impend- ing tragedy in theair. Overhead — the moon shone with a dull splen- ™ dor but, in the northeast, black Sotids were mounting and the trade wind carried a threat of rain. The gull had sailed off shoreward and the flying-fish were somewhere deep down in the purple depths. ‘There was only the soft lap of water against the sides of the Estrella del Norte to break the silence of the night. As the vessel rolled drowsily in the swell her masts and rigging threw weird shadows Wavering across the grey decks. In the semi-darkness of the little wheel- house, only lighted by the moonbeams that came through the small, round ports, stood a man garbed in boots, oil skin coat and sou’ wester. He was a tall man, and big of frame, but his face, bent low over the dark square of the chart board, upon which there was no chart, was indistinguishable. His fingers were moving slowly over the smooth surface and his mouth was moving in silent speech. He straightened, sighed heavily, murmured vaguely and moved to- ward the door. Outside he circled the house, mounted the port ladder, crossed the bridge, stared with vacant eyes over the side and aft, and then stood shuddering. Of a sudden he turned, and his eyes, wide, glassy, and staring, were filled with horror. A sprinkle of rain from the passing rain cloud overhead spattered upon his face and hands and mixed with the cold perspiration of fear. He stepped back and then forward, and with one hand clutching his throat warded off an unseen foe with the other. “Ah,” he gasped. “Again! You! Tlldo for you this time, you fiend.” He sprang forward and, still clutching his Adventure . throat’ with his left hand, struck viciously at the empty air with his right. He gave a gruesome imitation of a man fighting a desperate battle for his life, claw- ing and striking heavy blows with his free hand, which landed upon nothing, all the while cursing, mouthing foul epithets and jabbering an insane mixture of fear and hatred. The cloud above spilled more of its liquid contents and the man’s wet oilskins glis- tened dully. Still he fought on, half across the bridge, then back to the corner, where his imaginary assailant wrenched him to his knees. “Let me go,” he finally pleaded in spite of the iron fingers that were slowly taking his life. “Let me go! Igivein. Do you hear? I shot Jim Mullins, I drowned you—?m sorry. Iwas maddened with fear. Let go, Dolan, let go! You're killing me. Stop, man, for ’s sake stop, d’ya hear? Have pity—have— Ah!” Through lipscovered with foam and: blood he screamed hoarsely, then fell writhing to the deck. When he came to he was spread-eagled upon his back in the center of the bridge, a sailor astride his legs and one upon each arm. Through half-opened lids he saw the chief ‘officer standing at his feet and just behind him stood the second officer. The mess boy was strutting boastfully in the back ground. “Didn’t I tell you?” the latter was saying exultantly. ‘“‘Didn’t IP I knew there was something wrong. You betcha!’ “You were right, lad,’ answered the second mate. ‘And you called me just in time. A moment later and we might have been too late.” “A somnambulist,” said the chief officer wonderingly. “More than that,” the second mate said with a shake of his head. “A form of mania, caused most likely by Dolan’s threats of death, which we have all been hearing about the docks for the last three years, preying upon a guilty conscience. And the strangest part of it is, he throttled a confession from himself.” ‘Well, you see,” said Mr. Nordstrom, “twas the weather, just like north of Wat- ling—and it rained.” Captain Bleibtree gasped, groaned, twist- ed convulsively and swooned. Gomicbooks.com