Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 32: what you’re looking at

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

22 As Dunn passed her engine room, he glanced below. A beautiful triple expansion engine filled his seaman’s eye. Her brass work and steel were clean and _ shining. He could hear the whirr of the dynamo, and the regular thump-thump of the sanitary pump. Above it all sounded the rapid buzz of the racing blowers. After Florence had gone below, Fitz led Dunn about the decks. “She'll do eleven knots, Bill, not much, but enough to get anywhere I want to go. You must meet my chief engineer. Splendid old cuss!” Fitz thrust his head down the skylight and shouted. The old chief, Murphy, came up, wiping his hands on a piece of waste. ‘ We'll be ready below in about two hours,” Murphy reported. ‘‘ Would have been sooner, but a couple of the coal passers jumped ship, and we’re short handed. Unexpected, isn’t it?’ The old chief cocked his eye at Fitz. “Yes, it is,” Fitz answered. ‘‘ As a mat- ter of fact, Murph, we’re after treasure. Yow'll have to hook her up after we get outside the breakwater, because some one else is also headed that way, and the first man wins.” “She’s running like a watch, sir,” ‘Murphy announced. “ ll warm her up in an hour. I must go below now and keep an eye open.” He disappeared down a steel- runged ladder. “‘ Splendid old chap there, Bill,” Fitz said. ‘‘ There isn’t a better en- gineer afloat or ashore. After we get out, you must cultivate his friendship. His favorite amusements are: whisky, music, and more whisky. The old cuss goes to church regularly, just to hear the organ.” Slowly, the steam pressure rose; the ship chandler’s boat came out with four sleepy- eyed native boys, and the two diving suits. A tackle had been rigged by the deck force, and the heavy air pump was hoisted aboard. Murphy was turning his engine over slowly. First a few revolutions ahead, and then a few in reverse. The hiss of the anchor windlass, the clank of the chain, as it came over the controller, the shout of the bo’sun, as he reported the tend of the chain, and at last the shout: “ Anchor aweigh, sir!” floated to the bridge, and Fitz rang slow ahead on the engine room annunciator. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. Past the quiet ships swinging at anchor, their lights glowing in the night, past the breakwater, and then into the Caribbean Sea, where Fitz set. the course approximat- ing northeast. “TPve just looked the Mary up in the register,” Dunn said, as Fitz came back from the bridge and into the chart room. ‘““She’s under the American flag, and has an auxiliary kicker in her. She has a fair wind, and I judge is making a elean ten knots. We'll have to overtake her before she makes the reef.” “We'll do it,” Fitz declared confidently. “The Olympia can do eleven knots at a pinch. The Mary has, perhaps, a forty mile start on us. She cannot keep up her present pace if the wind fails. Besides, we simply must get there first. There’s the price of a new schooner among the Moon Glow’s bones, plus a pretty bank account on the side.” They conversed a while on the night’s work, and then Dunn bade Fitz good night, and went below. The steady rhythm of the revolving screw lulled him to sleep in sur- roundings that were the height of luxury. When he awoke it was broad daylight. One of the ship’s stewards was knocking on his door. A quick bath, clean linen, and a suit of white duck which the steward had produced from an abandoned linen locker, and which fitted Dunn perfectly, completed his transformation. The beautiful tropical morning started with a perfect breakfast, and Dunn went on deck with a new feeling of elation. Point Draquie had disappeared in the haze that covered the horizon. The sea, a sheet of turquoise blue, seemed to wash the hull of the Olympia with a soft velvety sound— low and distinct. Overhead, floated a mass of cirro-cumulus, faintly tinged with pink. The lookout had not sighted the Mary as yet, although he scanned the unbroken line of the horizon continuously. They spent the morning shooting at bot- tles thrown into the water. Dunn took it upon himself to teach Florence the art. From the bridge Fitz glanced aft, and saw Bill with his arm around her shoulders, holding her riffle steady, and giving her instructions. Bill Dunn, he knew of old. CoTpmmicaookxs (©)