Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 19, 1924 — page 15: what you’re looking at

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

THE ROARING FORTIES. times it seemed as though the breath was nigh gone from him. In the fury of the elements his heart was torn with every groaning spar and wrenched with every twanging stay. Hour after hour, in the darkness, he fought it out in those roaring latitudes that search the very heart and fabric of a vessel. He was an artist who created beauties to queen it o’er the ocean. Such creations, even in the artist’s soul, were born with the travail of the tempest. All night long in spirit he was wrestling with the Roaring Forties, when at last the laggard dawn crept up across the harbor, Donald MacKay came back to the model room, like one returning from mortal com- hat. In the gray light the face of the old designer was haggard from vicarious strug- gle, but in his eye there shone exultant light. Gazing at the many models of his workroom, he exclaimed: “Ves, I believe she'll be the greatest of my storm birds.” CHAPTER III. TEA FROM CHINA. HE Sea Witch, of Salem, docked that a. afternoon at Pier 9, in the East River. The same evening, at supper, hun- dreds of New Yorkers remarked on the fact that their steaming cups of tea came from the first fragrant chests which the Witch had rushed ashore. The lofty spars and famed speed of the Yankee clippers had caused the tea trade of the London market to pass almost out of the hands of the English shipowners. In this hour of gloom the stout hearted mer- chants of London and Liverpool had re- solved that England should again become mistress of the.seas. Thus an international contest had been precipitated which was followed with breathless interest on both sides of the Atlantic. Among the evening’s visitors at Pier 9 were Captain Forbes and Richard Green. They drove down to the water front to- gether behind a pair of blood horses. Leav- ing the coachman at the dock entrance, they 485 went aboard the Witch to pay their re- spects. During their sojourn in the captain’s cabin the rumor of their identity went forth. When they reappeared it was the signal for a demonstration. ‘“ That’s Bully Forbes,” some one shout- ed, and in a moment the crowd burst into cheering. ‘““Who’s that with him?” “Dickey Green, the English guy who says he’s going to bustle the bounce out of the Yanks.” 3 Jeers and catcalls followed. But the sight of the famous rivals leaving the gang- plank arm in arm precluded further hos- tility. From Pier 9 the two shipowners drove up to the Astor House, the meeting place of the shipping fraternity. There was nothing tame about this Astor House gath- ering of gamblers and plungers, with whom fortunes were made or lost in a night. This evening the great question was, who would be the winner of the China fleet racing with new teas for the London market? As Forbes and Green came into this merry company a florid Englishman with mutton chop whiskers was holding forth in excited tones. “No, no, we can’t do that, but we’ll lay a thousand guineas, at one to three, on the challenger against the fleet, bar one. Or we'll lay the same, even odds, on the chal- lenger against the Fyphoon,” “We'll take you, even odds on the Typhoon!” sang out a dozen voices. But before the bet was closed the late arrivals had usurped attention. The florid Englishman, recognizing the newcomers, rapped for attention. “My word! Dickey Green and Bully Forbes coming in arm and arm! Gentle- men, I’ll give you a toast: Here’s to the British Lion and the American Eagle lying down together.” A click of glasses followed, with shouts of: “‘ Dickey Green! Dickey Green!” This was Richard Green, of the famous Blackwall Line—a bluff, red-nosed, John- nie Bull, in nowise given to diplomacy. Re- plying to the calls of the crowd in loud, downright tones, he exclaimed: Eomichooks (E(0)