Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 26: what you’re looking at

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

652 By a stroke of the most remarkable luck or perhaps because of a still more remark- able intuition—Tom Yarre had found the very word which caught the girl’s ear— “birth.” She did not of course wear her heart on her sleeve and smile in pleasure. It was known that her father had been sent to jail. And to speak of birth, recalled that. Al- though from her point of view his crime was a matter of honor, it was futile to talk about it to every sailor who came to the Sundown Café. She answered Tom Yarre with her customary coolness: “Do you know, capitan, out of every hundred gringos who want for to mak’ love to a woman—a woman who works—ninety- nine say that she is born to something high- er? What is that something to which she is born—aye? To be a jade sitting in the lap of a sailor from any port thees side of the Cap’ Horn—aye?”’ “You are right!” Tom Yarre remarked assuredly. “ That is why I did not say what was really in my mind. If I said what was really in my mind you would be very surprised. No, you would merely think I was drunk and upset a pot of olla podrida on my head. Of course I knew well enough that many other men must have told you— just as I did—that you don’t belong here.” ‘Never! Not wan man, Excep’ you!” “No? Then I will tell you—”’ “There is no need. Don’t get excite’. I know it better than you, Senor Capitan. But here I remain until my father, Miguel of Salamanca, comes back for me. Here I am imprisoned—of my own will. I have perform’ every task set upon my shoulders. IT have endur’ every eensult. I have been beat by the senora who keeps this inn. No work is too lowly for me or too humble, I have perform’ everything so that—ah—lI will be here when padre mio comes back!” “That is not reason enough for you to be a servant!” Tom Yarre said. ‘What are you saying, Senor Capitan?” the girl asked bewildered. ‘Instead of waiting in the galley for him ——why not be like a queen waiting for her king?” | “Ves, that is what it is, capitan, waiting for a king!” ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. ‘“Is_it the job of a queen to be slinging tamales at every seaman who hauls into this joint? Is it a queen that sweeps saw- dust and tobacco cuds from the deck of a lodging house? Is it a queen that lets an old bat like that woman over there poke her in the face? Hell, no!” Hell, no!” Juana repeated. “You have no idea of your job. Listen here, Chiquito or whatever your name is, / am the one to show you what a queen is, savvy? I am going to change you like the old witch in the fairy tale took Cinderella out of the steward’s department and stuck her up on the bridge! I’m goin’ to show you how these people you are serving should act before you: they should slide in on their bellies and say: ‘ Here I am, your highness!’ “That’s what! They should fall on the deck and scrape and tremble and kiss the hem of your skirt—not that skirt you’ve got on, I will say that!” Yarre laughed in his excitement. “ They Should say: ‘Aye, aye! Your majesty!’ instead of bawling out: ‘ Stand by with the hash there, gal!’ Do you savvy, Chiguito? Daughter of a Spanish grandee—that sounds a bit more like it. ‘ Sling over some beans, your majesty!’ Holy cripes! It’s a sin—it’s a damned sacrilege!” ‘‘ Are you crazy, Mr. Capitan?” Skipper Jarvy, Mate Grimpen, Herzog, the cook and the woman in the sky-blue wrapper had heard nothing of this dialogue. They saw the boatswain talking earnestly to Juana and they sustained no doubts as to what his words were—simply the words of a sailor to a woman on shore. But the large woman in the wrapper was curious. She swept into the dining room, and keeping a table in between herself and the two, moved as near as she dared to the boatswain’s table. Herzog, the host, fol- lowed, keeping well behind his wife. The skipper, the cook and Mr. Grimpen leaned forward to catch the ensuing words: ‘I said I am the one that will change you,” Tom Yarre was repeating, “ that is if you give me a chance.” Old phrases these were to the ears of the innkeeper and his wife. In this case they meant trouble. Herzog looked imploringly. into Juana’s face and he saw written upon COMMICLOOOKS (C@