Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 54: what you’re looking at

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

684 to go. But you'll write to me, won’t you Richard?” The brave eyes looking up were struggling against tears. Richard, too happy for words, promised to write from every port. “Tl send you some Canton silk from China, Mary.” ‘No, bring it to me, Richard.” Tr will.” CHAPTER XV. “‘ FIT TO GO FOREIGN.” ALKYRIE sailed on a Sunday-—Bully Forbes’ lucky day. On his second voyage in the Marco Polo, Forbes left Liverpool on a Sunday, sighted the Cape on a Sunday, crossed the line on a Sunday, recrossed the line homeward bound on a Sunday, and arrived back in Liverpool on a Sunday. After this he always took good care to stick by his lucky day. By two wonderful voyages in the Marco Polo, and a still more wonderful one in the Typhoon, Forbes had rushed to the head of his profession. The sporting bloods had regretted it deeply when this prime seaman came ashore. His slap-dash chancing won the heart of every gambler. Now that he was coming back to sea, the sporting bloods rejoiced. Early Sunday morning Forbes drove down from the Parker House, in an open victoria, to join his ship. All along the way crowds stopped to cheer him. If one had gone into any rum shop along Atlantic Avenue that morning and inquired: ‘“Who’s the most famous man in the world?” beyond a peradventure, from the bartender down, everybody would have shouted: “Bully Forbes!” As the captain drove by Patch-Eye Cur- tain’s boarding-house, that worthy stood on the steps announcing proudly that he had once sailed with Forbes. “ Why didn’t yez stick wid him?” “ Novin’ doin’, I don’t mind a trip on the sea, but a whole bloody voyage under water was too much for me.” “ Did he carry sail?” “ Carry sail!” Faith, an’ it’s me what’s ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. seen him, wid his sheets padlocked, drivin’. like some cut cat out of hell, wid every man aboard paralyzed, and him a marchin’ up and down in his shirt tail at*the break of the poop, wid a pair of pistols levelled for the guy what dared to make a move to shorten sail. “ Goin’ down the Roarin’ Forties we dived at the Cape, and by the shiverin’ cripes, we didn’t come up again to blow till we was off o’ Leeuwin.” Patch-Eye Curtain’s lurid sketch sent a host of open-mouthed admirers down to swell the crowd around the docks. There were only two words in Boston on that Sabbath morning, at least for those who did not go to church. These words were: ‘“ Forbes.” ‘ Valkyrie.” Several days previous, at a shipowners’ dinner, Captain Forbes had given out wine- tinted promises of what he intended to do with Donald MacKay’s latest crack. With any other captain this might have been put down as braggadocio, but with Forbes it was looked upon as already ac- complished, for as one backer put it, ‘“‘ What he promises, he’ll do.” About noon the Valkyrie was hauled through the pier heads, with the boast, “ This will be the fastest ship in the world,” flying from her signal halyards. “That kind of Yankee boasting is too much for me,” said a hostile critic with con- tempt. “ He’d better wait until he does it, before he starts to blow his horn.” ‘All right, V’ll bet you one hundred dol- lars, three to one, that he makes good,” chimed in a Boston sport. But the bet was not accepted. For two hours the Valkyrie remained in the stream, where she took on her crew, and received a few tons of gunpowder. The waters around her were alive with boats. To add to the zest of the occasion, two famous oarsmen from the Charles River were there in their racing skiffs, to show off their paces. This was an anxious time for Richard Dunbar, as every detail of getting the ship to sea was in his hands. Most of the crew were delivered aboard in advanced stages of hilarious intoxication. Patch-Eye Curtain, Shanghai Jessup, and oO GOMIGIOOKS=CO 5}