Ainslee's Magazine, February 1913 — page 78: what you’re looking at

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

68 adventures in stranger ports that was exchanged over the big table. The dining room itself was a museum of inexhaustible interest. The bottles on the mantelpiece, through the exiguous necks of which some magician had in- troduced full-rigged ships that com- pletely filled the interior, she found purely fascinating; and the barbarous curios from many lands left on the walls by Tom’s guests had each a story. Every nook and cranny of the room was populous with mummified beasts and insects. Sacrificial axes, strange seaweeds, delicate silver foliage, idols, and spears, and knobkerries reached to the ceiling in profuse trophies, calling for delicious tales of blood. Then there was always plum duff— cold, as real plum duff should always be eaten, and cut into thick, satisfac- tory slabs. Mrs. Cordoba’s plum du was one of the achievements that had made her name a toast in a hundred ports. The talk was more animated than usual, owing to the machinations of Clancy among the strike breakers. A Bluenose mate had heard a rumor that an effort would be made to stampede not only Tom’s men, but all the other contingents, as soon as they were as- sembled on board the Chicola. Manuel contributed a story of a plot to dislo- cate the steering gear. This would give the strike breakers time to go ashore and trade their advance notes, after which even Tamale Tom would have quailed at the task of rounding them up. A charmed and eloquent ship’s car- penter, fresh from the Bridgehaven water front, told stories of the violence of the strikers there that opened the Cherub’s blue eyes to their widest ex- tent. Suddenly her musical voice cut into the conversation with the clear, in- cisive sound of ice in a tumbler. “Oh, what a funny way he holds his knife!’ she exclaimed. An almost palpable silence fell upon the table, while each of the guests in- spected his table knife and sought cov- ertly to examine the knife of his neigh- bor. Tamale Tom paused in the AINSLEE’S process of carving a goose that swam, Manila fashion, in a sea of tomatoes and onions, to gaze blankly on Jensen, whose eyes were fixed just as dubi- ously on the knife he held in his huge, freckled fist. The big Swede blushed up to the roots of his yellow hair. “Ay not bane holt my knife goot?” he stammered. And, in truth, he clasped it, point upward, in his power- ful fingers, for his promotion was too recent for the jackknife habit of the forecastle to have become entirely elim- inated. “T do’ know,” said the Cherub, a lit- tle dismayed by the sensation her criti- cism had produced. “I hold mine this way.” “Where you learn hold it that-a way?” Tamale Tom asked, noting the delicate poise of the baby fingers. “T never,” replied the Cherub. just knows.” She threw her curly head back in the short, little laugh she used to close dis- cussions that might become inconveni- ent. Jensen awkwardly changed the grip on his knife, and shook his head mysteriously at the host. ne | “Ay tall you, that kid bane some- body, some time,”’ he said. “Whoever she is,’ said Mrs. Cor- doba, entering at the moment with a load of plates, “it’s high time Captain Nixon got her some new clothes.” She put the plates on the table and folded her brawny arms across her apron. “That child’s legs,” she said im- pressively, “are going to get longer every year now for twelve years, and it’s up to somebody to make her frocks keep pace with ‘em. You'll find it out when you get families.” Consideration of this startling truth deprived the unmarried guests of Tamale Tom of speech until the arrival of the plum duff. With the plum duff there also arrived Joshua Nixon, mas- ter mariner. His gaunt, neatly dressed figure was very stiff and straight as he entered, and he: held his gray head proudly, as if a great weight had been lifted from him. When they spoke of CCOLMMUCE IOOKkK (C@