Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 62: what you’re looking at

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; a okie 692 deck. at the wheel of this clean clipper. ‘Now, Mr. Dunbar, will I have to ask you to take this trick yourself, or can you scour the forecastle with a fine tooth comb, and find me just one real sailor?” As a last resort, the first officer sent John Hall, V. C., a colored man-o’-warsman. Cool and courteous in manner, but dead- ly and dangerous, Forbes remained, waiting like a fell avenger for the merest slip that. might afford him yet one more horrible example. But the colored seaman, with a perfect sang froid, took his place, and pulled a spoke down, to let the ship luff to his taste. There was a careless lilt about him, and Forbes unloosed his heaver with pre- paratory gesture. Undismayed, and with the touch of an artist, John Hall watched the slatting roy- als, and felt the wind blowing against his cheek. “Keep her full and by!” warned the skipper. ‘“ Full and by, sir,” came back the cheery answer. Hall let the wheel run, breaking it with his flattened hand, as the ship pulled at her helm, and took back a couple of spokes, whereat Forbes replaced his heaver, and looked at the first officer with a bitter and accusing glance. Dunbar knew that he had appeared in a bad light before his skipper. Just at that embarrassing moment, Mr. Pugsley came up the companion. Seeing the captain, he crossed over to the lee side, and stood within hearing distance while Forbes continued his sarcastic flings. With the calms continuing, Bully Forbes must have a scapegoat. Every circum- stance seemed to qualify the first officer for this unenviable position. ““T’ve just had about enough of your faint hand, and faint heart, Mr. Dunbar. Tf you are to remain first officer aboard this clipper, will you kindly wake up and get a grip on your men.” With this humiliating remark, the captain bowed disdainfully and went below. Paradise Cronin, who had been lying I'll have nothing but clean hands ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. stark, just then let out a groan. With three of his watch prostrate on his hands, Rich- ard Dunbar’s first thought was to their wel- fare. Yelling through the cabin skylight, he ordered the steward to fetch him some hot whiskey to revive them. Whereat, Forbes reappeared. “Look at here, Mr. Dunbar, you can pitch them over the side with a sack of coal at their heels before I’ll dish out hot whiskey for such trash. Do you under- stand?” — “Yes, sir,” answered Dunbar fighting against that instinct which always caused him to think of his men first. At this moment, Mr. Bucko Pugsley got himself in solid with the skipper by kicking the three prostrate sailors off the break of the poop onto the deck. ‘“ That’s where that trash belongs,” he grunted, Captain Forbes went below and Pugsley, guessing his temper, seized the opportune occasion to join him in the cabin. “Well, Pugsley, just what’s the matter with that first officer?” “No good, sir.” ** ‘Yes, but what’s the matter with him?” ‘Too much treacle and molasses, sir.” “I believe you’re right,” said Forbes with a sudden decisiveness in his voice, and he went up again on the poop. Just at the moment Richard Dunbar was tacking ship. | During the process of tacking, the lag- gard unresponsiveness of the crew was only equalled by the sluggishness of the clipper as she wallowed almost becalmed. Enraged beyond words at the slowness of his vessel in stays, the captain broke his first officer then and there. “Mr. Pugsley,” he said curtly, “ from now on you'll take over as first officer. Mr. Dunbar, you’ll go back to second.”’ “What?” exclaimed Richard, unspeak- able pain showing in his face. “Ves, you go back to second. May be hard on you, but can’t be helped. Right now, I’d ride over my dead brother’s car- cass, if he stood between me and a record for Valkyrie.” TO BE CONTINUED NEXT WEEK “CONMICLOOO|KS.E@