Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 109: what you’re looking at

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

BUCCANEER BLOOD. strings of this old baggage—and wiv a little snipe a-kickin’ of me shins. And that rot- ten old negro besides. Yuss. A _ jolly evenin’ for me—ain’t it. While old Wing ——hlitherin’ softy that he is—ransacks the ‘ouse and makes orf with any swag he finds! Kill ’em—I tell yer! Shoot ’em dahn—all three of ’em—as well as that codger up there!”’ “ Dorset’s right, captain!’’ the octoroon counseled. ‘‘ Here’s this house full of treasure waitin’ to snatch, and we’ve spent the night palaverin’. Leave me blow this man’s brains out—here and now.” ‘“ Dorset ain’t right. He’s scairt to death —and wants to murder every one in sight!” Wing said. “ And the same for you, Par- son—hbein’ you’ve got enough negro blood in yer to make yer yellow. Ain’t nothin’ to be scairt of. Git the swag now—and in a hurry—that’s my advice, captain.” Captain McCorkle took a swig and belched—-unmistakable signals to the men to hold their peace, and listen to his pro- nunciamiento. “‘ Dorset and Parson is both right.” This had its effect—it was a grim sen- tence. Cameron heard the softly uttered words from the height of the stair- landing. He made’a gesture—stopped by the steel muzzle now poked against his nude chest. The chatelaine’s face showed a dreadful—an implacable pallor. ‘ But while we go through the house, Dorset stays guard,’”’ McCorkle continued. “Wing ain’t a fool. We can’t go aboard of ’em all at once. It’s the last of the Raiglon race—and“there may be secrets. Wing is right.” Wing stood, his white but sea-stained head nodding in the full halo of the can- delabrum. “Now that gentleman up thar—” Mc- Corkle said pointing his thumb at Cameron. “Yes, yes! H’m! We can’t keep our cake —and eat it—can we now? He goes. But first a few questions of a personal nature is to be axed and answered. Then the hya- cinths will take care of his carcass.” The chatelaine, still remaining calm be- fore the insolent and hideous little Dorset who stood guard at her elbow, cast an im- ploring glance upward, as if to plead not before God, but before the six Raiglons up there in the gloom of the walls. ' “ Then there’s one thing else,” McCorkle added. ‘ As we was sayin’ there’s a little gal driftin’ around somewheres. We must get her in tow. Otherwise we run afoul of her in the dark. No tellin’ what a Raiglon gal will do.” “‘ Then for the loot—ay, captain?” Wing prompted excitedly. McCorkle took another swig, and looked up—following the gaze of the old chate- laine. His brow furrowed. Then, as if musing to himself, he concluded his judg- ment. “As for this here house—there ain’t no man who'll swear by his soul that this house is standin’. If it waren’t standin’ to-. morrow who is there to ax questions? No- body. Good! To-night when the loot’s out—when these here prisoners is stowed away in some glory-hole below—”’ Mc- Corkle paused before finishing his sentence. He wanted to make sure that every one in the room heard. There was no doubt about the tensity with which they listened to each word. Even the chatelaine’s eyes dropped —and met his. “T said to-night,” he concluded, “ the house burns.” The old chatelaine of the Raiglon house looked up again to her gods. “ Witness this tragedy!” she might have prayed to them. ‘“ You wielded your power against mightier and nobler enemies. Do you look down upon this waterfront scum besmirch- ing the remnants of your house? Is your glorious power vanished forever? Are you mere shadows? Will you frown, will you erin, will you forever threaten to lift your swords and do nothing? Come down to us, fighters, seamen, Raiglons!”’ These were the unuttered thoughts of the ancient lady. The actual, spoken words were coming from McCorkle—a smooth soft sentence, slightly slurred by drink. ‘Come below, skipper, and stand by. We'll attend to you first.” In response to this command, Cameron got to his feet. He was about to start down the stairs, when he saw a very peculiar change come over MecCorkie's, face. The.