Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 31: what you’re looking at

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

TWENTY-STICK ISLAND. flutter of gowns, a touch of color. Ladies aboard! Thorpe was no anchoret, and his invol- untary hermitage aided the perfectly natural excitation at the thought of the opposite sex. He had not seen a white woman for two years. The idea that he would not meet them on terms of practical equality never entered his head. Sure of himself, his edu- cation, his manners and native gentility, Thorpe’s own innate democracy precluded all thoughts of snobbishness from people who had money enough to possess a steam yacht and travel at leisure. Thorpe had that possibility within himself. Moreover, they would be glad of a run ashore, glad : to see him once they realized he was not a roughneck. They were Americans—citizens of a democracy that proclaims all free and equal. They might not invite him for a week-end at their country houses, but they were at sea, travelers free of convention, and he was, in a way, their host. It was a spruce Jimmy Thorpe that awaited the coming of the launch to his copra wharf clad in speckless, unrumpled duck, with white-braided blouse and white pumps that he kept pipe-clayed for an emer- gency that had never occurred before. The officer—first mate by the rating of his stripes—looked at him with a certain degree of surprise, Thorpe noted, as he wel- comed the launch. “Come ashore,” he said. “ Haven’t got much to offer you, but the best of the place is yours. Plenty of fresh fruit—and a tur- tle, anyway.” “You'll have to see the sewage about furnishing supplies,” said the man curtly. The launch was alongside the wharf, bump- ered carefully from contact with the piles. Two sailors hung on with boathooks, and there was no show of landing. Everything was spic and span, from the smart lettering on the sailors’ white blouses to the dazzling shine on the launch whistle. Thorpe felt rebuffed. The trim-bearded officer was a bit of a crab, he decided. ‘““T wasn’t thinking of selling anything,” he answered. ‘‘ What else can I do for your” ; “This is Twenty-Stick Island? You're not on the chart or in the register.” “Not important enough, I suppose,” said Thorpe with a laugh. : But that’s our name.” ‘“ You're trading?” ‘““No. I’m storekeeper for the Vila Trad- ing Company. There’s no plantation here.” “Thorpe was not going to sail under false colors, though he saw that the cold -eyed first mate immediately rated him on a par with an understeward, would treat him ac- cordingly and so report him. “H-m! Know anything about the la- goon soundings?” “ 'There’s plenty of water inside. Twelve to eighteen fathoms. Coming in?” “Tf that’s the case, your company don’t own the bay?” Jimmy felt his gorge rising against the ~Curtness of the man. But he was not going to blame the whole company of the “ plenty fine ehipi” that had just swum into his lonely horizon because of the supercilious- ness or surliness of the ehipi’s first mate. “No,” he said. “ They don’t own Trou- ble Bay. So far as I represent *em—and myselfi—you’re welcome. Ships don’t come here often. They break the monotony.” The officer gave the order to start the engine and shove off. But he had some- thing to add to his unpleasantry before he left. It seemed to have been evoked by Jimmy Thorpe’s last remark. : “They don’t like visitors aboard. They ain’t permitted. You might hand that along to your kanaka friends.” 50L ~~ 2 The last sentence was a covert insult io” : = top off the personal hint to Jimmy himself to stay ashore. Thorpe flushed and a retort came leaping that he cut short of his lips, ~ turning away instead as the launch got under way. So they were a bunch of snobs, after all! | His friendliness had been imputed to a de- sire to sell provisions. Visitors were not permitted, but they had had the gall to come to his landing and ask questions. They could go to blazes. He felt a natural bitterness as he watched the launch return to the Albatross and pres- ently saw the yacht weigh anchor and steam leisurely through the reef passage, conned, no doubt, by the first officer who had taken his bearings in the launch. + com KElLNOOLKS (E©@)