Argosy and Railroad Man's Magazine — page 90: what you’re looking at

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

432 Mankus must now have realized I was in earnest, and no longer to be hoodwinked or influenced by his words, for suddenly he dropped both his oars and faced me again, an ugly look on ‘his face. “Tt ’pears to me yer spoilin’ fer a lick- in’,” he sneered. “Ye sass back like ye thought ye was boss. It ain’t wise fer a sawbones t’ talk thataway t’ his captain. I guess ye don’t recollect Peter Mankus is now skipper of the Irene Statler; Peter Mankus, late first mate, and ye’re only Vawter, the sawbones, liable fer mutiny. Yes, sirree—liable fer mutiny—that there’s. the civil answer to that qu—” ‘You didn’t answer my question,” I flung at him sharply. “Oh! Aye! I didn’t, hey?” he bawled. “T didn’t answer yer stinkin’, rotten, skunk- tail of a question, hey?” he bellowed, his face turning purple with the sudden angry rush of blood, and the veins standing out on his forehead. ‘‘Oh! Aye! I'll answer it! Yoko! I answer it! You shrimp! -You four-flusher! Fer a couple o’ cash I’d pitch ye in the brine an’ tell "em ye went crazy with the heat an’ drowneded yerself. Fer another cash I’d twist yer runty neck into the bargain till the goo run out’n yer beak an’ mouth, an’ yer lamps popped out like a squashed rat. Stab my guts if I wouldn’t!” By this time my anger had reached white heat. Throwing caution to the winds, I jerked the board on which he was sitting from under him and dumped him into the stern across the water cask. Then I sprang upright in the little cockle-shell of a boat and struck at him savagely with a shore anchor. The blow caught him above the left ear with considerable vigor, and just as he rose with a volley of profanity to grapple with me, I followed it with a nasty fluke-jab in the bulging ribs of his hairy red chest. He sucked air like a stricken walrus, and sprawled under the seat upon the wooder grating between the oar-locks—spitting blood and cursing; but before I could knock him out, what with the teetering of the boat, the awkwardness of my weapon, the shank of which became tangled in the rope, the difficulty of maintaining my bal- ARGOSY AND RAILROAD MAN’S MAGAZINE. ance, and the fact that my feet constantly slipped on_the wet planks, he managed to scramble to his knees, and with a cry of rage hurled the water cask straight into the pit of my stomach. Unfortunately I had-just thrust out both arms to prevent myself from pitching over- board, and therefore was unable to ward off the blow. There was no room in which to sidestep without throwing my weight on the narrow gunwale, which would have capsized the boat in short order and brought our trip to an untimely end. (J tried to turn and advance a hip, but too late. The missile caught me squarely in the wind and re- bounded between his knees. The blow was wicked enough, but the cask lacked weight, for it was more than halfempty, and I succeeded in retaliating with an oar before pain and nausea over- came me. I reeled and collapsed, half stunned and woozy, and the next thing I remember I was grappling with the mate in the bottom of the boat, the bilge rush- ing about and choking me, the little cockle- shell rocking from side to side and shipping gallons of salt water over the gunwale. The bilge had a nauseous reek of decay- ing fish, tar, and dirty Chinamen, who for ages had lived and slept and worked and fished in the boat on the Hoang-Ho; and all the unspeakable refuse which had been collecting for decades in the seams had now soaked loose, and was splashing up through the planking to fill my hair, mouth, and eyes with a putrescent and sirupy com- pound, while Mankus struggled to gouge me in the wind with the water-cask. For- tunately, I still gripped the handle of, the oar, and sometimes, when the rock of the boat threw me uppermost, I managed to deliver a telling blow. The rising bilge floated the cask into the bow beyond his reach, and when he made _a grab for the anchor-ring, I jerked my feet from under him, and we grappled. Ordinarily I should have been no match for him, but he was weak and groggy from the blows of my oars; and when we finally broke away and staggered to our feet, he stood swaying a moment, heavy-lidded, and then pitched drunkenly overboard by the stern. conniclooolks.conn