Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 14, 1928 — page 117: what you’re looking at

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

~ GOLD. who being at the other end of the ship down below might as well have been on the other side of the world. Then abruptly he responded to the first impulse—the first God-send inspi- ration: get to one of the boats and make off! But it came too late. He saw a form loom up, a gaunt, slender form as if the shadows of one of the spars had picked itself from the deck and assumed a par- tially human likeness. Another impulse which came like lightning and gripped him with such immediacy that he could not disobey: A single leap, and the scarecrow went by the board. Evidently he knew how to dive, for he went down head first instead of jumping. And he may have been an excellent swimmer. But it would have made no difference. In his mental state I rather believe he would have hurled himself into the water any- way. Dorsey saw the whole episode. He had already emerged from his hiding place when Brass went over. Running to the rail Dorsey saw the end. He heard a splash as the loose- jointed body hit the water. And he heard a sharp smash against wood as the gunwale of one of the whaleboats struck the man’s skull. The dark form rolled out into the moonlit water like a porpoise hit by the prow of a ship. It rolled under the jet black surface, came up with hands clawing the air, sending out circles of shimmering light, that kept traveling after he went down again. When they had merged into the dis- tance, the arms appeared once more, and a grotesque head thrust itself above the surface. He was like the spirit of a drowned man arising. It was a pic- ture of the sea giving up its dead at the Day of Judgment. Dorsey did not wait for him to come up for the last time. The frantic cry of a girl’s voice be- low decks called him away. 255 Priscilla’s one thought was to get on deck. She did not know how long it would take Dorsey to come below. She knew he was playing a cautious game. She had begged him to. But as she made an attempt to get to the companionway with her father, Swope came back and met them. A change had come over the mate. He was like a tiger. that had had its first taste of human blood: Having fin- ished his little affair with the dough- boy and the negro, he came back to make the final gesture. He seemed crazed with blood lust. His eyes, pro- truding from the yellow parchment of his face, glowed like two coals. Blocking the way so that Priscilla and her father could not reach the com- panionway, he stood, feet wide apart, = bony hand clutching a smoking pis- tol. Both the girl and her father saw clearly what was going through his mind. The resolution went across the yellow visage like a grimace, tighten- ing his lips, baring the two buck teeth, reddening with a surge of hot blood. Skipper Bartlett knew that it was his last chance. One moment more and Swope would have his pistol reloaded. And that would be the end. With his daughter still clutching his arm—and until now leading his every ecteens made a rush, dragging her with im. He went at the mate like a wild boar. The mate leaped with the agility of a cat to one side. But a shoulder that was like solid iron smashed against one side of his chest and sent him hurtling to the spirketing. The mate had not been taken so much by surprise, however, as to lose his gun. He still clutched to it, and scrambling up to a sitting posture, his back against the transverse bulkhead, he fumbled frantically in his pocket and started re- loading his pistol. He was a shapeless-looking thing like a rag doll set up there, with its back against the bulkhead. He did not look COPMIG OOO KS (E@)