Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 72: what you’re looking at

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

698 the outlook. This was his first voyage as an officer, and the Molyneux looked very trifling and very gaunt by contrast with the ravening horror that surged all about her. “She needs watching—don’t take your eye off her,” the mate said. “ Ql tell the captain you’re on deck—” He said this to hearten the youngster, making no mention of what he expected to find when he went below. He found even more than he expected—Lyons had wak- ened from his stupor and was now gulping ‘down fresh alcohol. He blinked foolishly as Sellerman shot into his cabin and turned to slam the door nimbly to keep out the gray water that was chasing him. “Should always knock before entering captain’sh cabin,” he said seriously. ‘“ Dis- cipline, y’know—discipline.” Sellerman schooled himself to meekness, though disgust tore at his soul. “The gale is increasing, sir—young Wil- mot is on deck.” “Very good. Smart youngster, that— knows how to wear a uniform. Call me if it freshens.” He gaped foolishly at the mate, frowned, and, the liquor working within him, stut- tered: “I don’t like you, Sellerman. You’re—you’re—damn it, you’re no sailor, sir. Get out of my cabin!” Sellerman looked at his senior and was conscious of a rash desire to shake him into sensibility. But Lyons, his hands trembling, was drinking again, in copious gulps, shud- dering as the spirit poured down his throat. The mate made his exit, waded through sluicing water, and gained the saloon. The Molyneux was already recognizing the change in her handling; she was cavorting like a raving hippopotamus. Clamor was all about her; every plate and rivet chat- tered and creaked; and the smashing thun- der of falling seas shook her to the keel. Sellerman, wearied by his watch, jaded, weighted by the sense of responsibility, gulped down a cup of tepid coffee, swal- lowed a mouthful of food, and then clam- bered back to the bridge. It was quite apparent to him that he must see the old ship through her travail himself—fair or unfair, the sea demanded this of him. Throughout the livelong day he kept the ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. bridge, save when it was necessary to fare down to the decks to rally the crew, to set them to work in making further defenses against the inroads of the devouring waters; and night found the Molyneux’s mate still laboring hard. The miracle of it all was that the ship still survived. Only a man who understood her every humor could have nursed her through her tribulations, for by now the gale was reaching its height and the outlook was enough to stop the heartbeats of the bravest man. But Sellerman had forgotten his long disappointment; he had forgotten the injustice meted out to him, as he had forgotten the heedless coward in the cabin beneath the bridge. It was the ship he was fighting for—the old Molyneux—a ship to trust. The pri- mary instincts of the born sea-fighter were ablaze in his soul—it was now a personal matter betwixt himself and the sea. He fought as he would have fought had the command been given to him; and he thrilled with a_ half-forgotten happiness as he watched the gameness of the old ship. | She was wonderful—wonderful. It was as though she drew something from Seller- man’s strength and enthusiasm—she was a living miracle now, no longer a mere bulk of inanimate metal. She possessed tricks of curming that enabled her to meet the sea’s terrible onslaughts; but above all she was stalwart and game, fearing no knock- down blows; always coming up to time when the need was greatest. She was thrown this way and that as the elements willed; she was borne down by monstrous masses of devouring water; there were times when even Sellerman, who knew her, said that she could no longer survive; but al- ways she uprose again, streaming, stripped and forlorn, but terrible always—a ship a man might trust with his honor and his life. “You beauty!” gasped the mate as the night ended to give place to a wan steel- hued dawn that was more terrible even than the danger-hiding night. He revelled in the terrifying splendor of-the scene that un- veiled itself before his eyes. In a welter of surging water that rose and fell and rose again, the stripped and battered Molyneux © toiled steadfastly. Comicbooks (C@