Argosy All-Story Weekly, October 6, 1923 — page 153: what you’re looking at

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

LITTLE DARK SHIPS. Moresby. From there your passage to Syd- ney will be arranged. Write to me some- times. Tell me about your people and your- self. Good-by!!” Chard halted with his foot on the launch’s rail, his hand gripping Lester’s. ‘Tf you ever meet her in this life, say that I am content—that we passed each other like the dark ships in the night. And the ocean is wide! Good-by, sir!’ The launch disappeared in the blue dark- ness of the Papuan night. Slowly, very slowly, Lester returned to the hut and found the Chinaman huddled over the smoky fire, for the air had grown chilly. Kum looked up into the white man’s face, a question palpitating on his heathen lips, for Lester was still holding the minia- ture in his trembling fingers. ‘“ That—that lille lady I know welly well, sah! Her father keep um store in Putak!” v THE EMP 935 He pointed an accusing finger at the minia- ture. “ She—’’ “Ts now my wife, Ling! And pretty happy as things go!” The commissioner of police gathered his papers from the table, which the Chinaman had brought in from the beach, and braced himself for his jour- ney home through the forest. “ Good night, Ling!” He swung out into the bush track, halt- ing a moment on the wooded rise for a final glimpse of the launch’s pinhead light, fast disappearing over the skyline. “And they passed each other like dark ships in the night!” he echoed with a sigh. ‘‘ Never to meet, and somehow missing each other through all eternity! Thank good- ness Eileen’s happy! As for him—he’s glad to be out of it!” He turned again to the starlit trail, where the home lights beckoned, and the laugh- ing eyed little girl wife sat waiting. v vu TY HOUSE ‘VE not forgotten how it stands In fields that summer suns made sweet, Where trees make music secretly With roses in its friendly hands And wild, small gardens at its feet, And just beyond its door—the sea. Not long ago the sea waves broke With gallant song against the beach, And bees hummed all day at the pane, Its chimneys showed gray, feathered smoke, And summer moons glowed, colored peach, Or there was slanting, silver rain. But now the winds as blue as steel— The winter winds, sharp as a knife, Have cut the last red rose away, On golden feet dear, dead dreams wheel Where once they knew a glowing life And through dark halls old memories stray, The snow lies thick on every field, No smoke invades the quiet air, The sea waves beat in fruitless pain, The gardens naught but silence yield, And I, that once knew rapture there Shall not invade its paths again. Faith Baldwin. COmicloo (©