Argosy All-Story Weekly — "Sea Marauders" — page 148: what you’re looking at

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

wo gets “4 a =... a) ee h z, ene Le Bs ie : ¢ ue - Res —_———- wud 4 - it all along. Now they were open, and there was a grin on his boyish face. “ Hello, folks!’ said Lance. Rova rushed to his side, kneeled, and _ placed a restraining hand on his brow. It was cool. ‘“ Don’t exert yourself,” she admonished. ‘“ You are all right.” “Sure, I’m all right,’ said Lance. * But it seems like some one cracked me on,the bean. How come?” CHAPTER XXII. IN PorT, T dawn the next morning the Stingaree lay at anchor in a land- locked harbor seventy miles from the Cove whence she had started the evening before. Shortly after dawn out from shore pushed a native skiff manned by four Kanakas—with an outrigger. 3 In the stern rode a curious figure. He was in his bare feet, wearing blue denim pants, and above this was a threadbare old-fashioned Prince Albert coat. On his head was a stove-pipe silk hat. He wore gold-rimmed spectacles, and his snow-white hair gave a benign aspect to a face that seemed proud of the habiliments and loftily secure in spiritual peace in the presence of the lissome Kanakas who bent to their oars. In the background a village of thatched huts spread back from the beach. On the horizon could be seen the smoke of a sugar-mill. Near by, through the trees were visible the red tiles of a railway station. Above it stretched telephone and _ telegraph wires. The incongruous silk-hatted figure came alongside the Stingaree and clam- bered aboard as agilely as a monkey, despite his years and the restraints of the cast-off clothing. Expertly he car- ried his head so that the hat balanced without falling off. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. their friend. His eyes had been closed On the after-deck he was greeted ; by Ah Long clothed in ceremonial vest- ments of yellow silk, richly embroid- ered. Beside him stood the thin figure of the calculating Quimby. “Mr. Quimby,” said the Chinese, “this is my friend, the Reverend Mr. Aloysius Quong Lee. He is the pastor of the Presbyterian native church in Sundra. At my request he has come promptly this morning as you will see, and you will find him, I am sure, eager im your service.” 2 Mr. Quimby shook hands with the reverend gentleman, who apparently was a half-caste, possibly a mixture of Chinese, Kanaka, and white. ‘“ Mr. Lee,” he said unctuously, “I have heard from my friend of your excel- fent work in Sundra, and I am not un- mindful of the religious needs of your parish. | “Tf you will permit mé, I would lik to offer a contribution.” Whereupon, baldly, he took from his pocket a small wad of bills and handed them to the brightly quivering proprietor of the silk hat. | “Sank you, sir,” beamed Mr. Lee, grasping the bills and sucking in his breath as he bowed low. “ Sank you. The brethren of my congregation and _the sisters will bress you.” _ Quimby shook himself. He was glad to be through with the preliminaries. “ Now,” -he said, “ it is opportune that you are here, Mr. Lee, at this time, for it may be that your services will be re- quired shortly for a wedding cere- mony.” “Sank you, sank you.” The reverend gentleman sucked in his breath. “‘ I am to plees you with most gratitude.” Quimby bestowed him out of the way on the starboard side in one of the red leather wicker chairs. ‘“‘ Let us go to the saloon for breakfast. We can send then for Miss Hollins.” A moment later, the Chinese and the white man were seated vis-a-vis across the table in the saloon. Silently they drank their coffee and ate their toast.