Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 61: what you’re looking at

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

THE to the realization of some deadly hidden foe. Why was it that no chantey-man ever lifted a merry voice in his watch? Why were his packet sailors, usually splendid men aloft, so slow at making, or: shortening sail? - Who. was forever destroying the morale among his men? These were the vexing questions with which Richard Dunbar was continually har- assed. He was not of a suspicious nature. But the fear began to grow upon him of some hidden hand working against him. When the winds blew strong, Bully Forbes’s heart beat high. But the fifth day out brought light airs, with idle rolling, the gear creaking, and the hull groaning—a vile sound, for a skipper who yearned for the wind music in his shrouds. To run into such vexing calms on this maiden voyage was indeed exasperating. With all that he had at stake, the strain upon the skipper was terrific. At home in a hurricane, Forbes was beside himself in a calm. He walked up and down the weather poop, as imperturbable as ever. The only sign of his exasperation was that his iron hand fell more heavily upon his crew. The Valkyrie steered like atop. But the restless skipper seemed to watch her every minute of the night or day. Light airs only made him that much more exacting. He had one of those compasses on the binnacle, the bottom of which being out, showed in the cabin just how the ship was heading at any moment. Under the com- pass, on the transom, Forbes used to lay himself down while he pretended to sleep. It was commonly believed aboard that he really never slept. Let the Valkyrie deviate a quarter of a point off her course, or while on the wind, let the royals lift, and the heavy hand was felt immediately. On the afternoon of the seventh day, with the calm continuing, the man at the wheel let his mind wander for an instant. In that instant, the clipper fell off a half a point. The wheelsman, Paradise Cronin, was picking her way up again when the gorilla ROARING FORTIES, 691 head of Bully Forbes rose from the com- panion, and turned slowly to regard the man at the wheel. Paradise Cronin felt his heart — against his ear drums as he confronted the pale light of that merciless eye. In a sudden panic he let his vessel flop her royals. ““Might I inquire if you are a quarter- master, or if you are a passenger?” said Forbes with acrid tones. “Please sir, I think the mizzen royal ’s braced up too tight to steer by.” ‘““And so, you’re there to talk back to your betters, are you?” remarked Forbes suavely, at the same time moving over toward the offender with disconcerting speed. At this fell approach, the packet rat dropped the wheel, and crouched for a defiant spring. But in the same instant, Forbes smashed him with a heaver, and jumping on his prostrate body, grabbed the wheel, and put the vessel back upon her course. ‘“Send me a man who can steer, Mr. Dunbar,’ he sang out testily. ‘“ You’re watch seem to be conspicuous, sir, for their inefficiency.’ A second Irish packet sailor came aft with laggard step. “There was a man in the Bible sick of the palsy. There’s a man on this clipper who’s going to be dead with the palsy if you don’t hustle!” With a hand that trembled more than any of the palsied, the relief took over the wheel, the old man stepping back to watch his exhibition. For one agonizing minute he held the Valkyrie upon her course, then yawed a full point to leeward. Before he had time to recover his wheel, the heaver had cracked against another skull. Spurning his pros trate body with a disgusted kick, Forbes again took the wheel, exclaiming; “Truly, Mr. Dunbar, yours is a rare as- sortment!” The third man, warned by the fate of his predecessors, came aft at the double. But even before he relieved the wheel, Forbes laid him cold. “ That’s for dirty hands on the quarter- Conmicoooks (S@) ey