Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 19, 1924 — page 13: what you’re looking at

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

THE ROARING FORTIES. an amazing interest. Before his appraising eye, every movement of Mary Williston appeared enticing. She was clad in sailor reefer, and white duck skirt, worn shorter than: the custom, revealing the clean ankles of the thoroughbred. Hers was that kind of dress admired most by men, affected least by women, designed primarily for ser- vice, for she was the girl of the great out- doors, yet not without its daintiness. Winds and seas had imparted to her a radiant and healthful glow. Beyond a _ rose, there was no artful touch; indeed there was no need, for the dark serge reefer set off the blue eyes and the blond hair in bewitching contrast. On her arm she carried something wrapped up in an oilskin jacket, which she began to unfold. Then, startled by a too curious attention from the stranger, she wrapped it tight again, assuming a manner distant and reserved. ‘“You must not be shy, my dear,” said Donald MacKay, in reassuring tones. “ Guess who we have in here to-night.” “T can’t possibly say.” With a slight bow toward the stranger, Donald MacKay announced, “ Captain Forbes, my niece, Miss Mary Williston.” ‘Oh, oh, but I am glad to meet you,” said the girl, once more, all vivacity, for Captain Forbes was the sailor hero wher- ever square rig flourished. Mary Williston, a sailor’s daughter in a sailor town, had heard the name “ Bully Forbes,” since childhood, associated with wonder stories of New England on the sea. As Captain Forbes advanced and took the girl’s soft hand in his iron paw, there was presented a picture of beauty and the beast. The only soft touch about him was the warm, admiring light of his eye. But even this momentary softening could not veil his hard, almost brutal expression. Every purposeful line of his face, every movement of his lean, lithe body bespoke driving force incarnate. What in others might have been called a boastful strut was pardonable with him when it was borne in mind that he was the sail carrier in a fleet of sail carriers. Forbes was the first to get down to the commonplace. - iher, “483 ‘‘ Where have you been with the oilskin jacket?” “Out sailing in the harbor.” ‘* She’s a bonnie sailor,” broke in Donald MacKay; ‘can handle my yacht, the Alcala, by herself, better than any lad in town.” “Well, it’s a treat to hear of a girl that can do things like that.” But Donald MacKay was not in agree- ment. “No, I don’t believe in it. Of course, I have to give in, but as Mrs. MacKay says, it’s hardly the thing for a girl to do.” “But we’re not always going to be the same as Mrs, MacKay. Just as your clip- pers change, so we must change, Uncle Donald. “ Bravo,” exclaimed Captain Forbes. “You stick it out, Miss Mary, for your share of sport, and if they ever turn you away from the Alcala, come to me, and Vl let you sail Valkyrie.” “Let me sail Valkyrie!” Mary’s eyes were dancing. ‘“ Of course, I couldn’t sail But remember, Captain Forbes, I won't forget what you have said, and some- time you’ve got to take me for a trip in the Valkyrie, because I know she’s going to be the loveliest ship that Uncle Donald ever built. “I’m awfully glad that you two are here together now, because I’ve got something that I made for your new clipper. What do you think I have in here?” Both shook their heads, while the girl held up the oilskin bundle, in suggestive manner. : “Well, you can each have one guess. What do you say it is Uncle Donald!” “A ship’s cat.” “ And youe” ‘* A looking glass for the captain’s cabin.” ‘No, you’re both wrong.” With a certain ceremoniousness, she un- rolled the oilskin parcel, disclosing a scarlet burgee with a blue star. At the sight of this Donald MacKay’s eyes filled with tears, and he arose out of ~ respect for Mary’s flag. | While the old designer stood, visibly moved, Mary exclaimed in clear, ringing tones: Eomichbooks (E@) > tie aa bid RET Yc?