Argosy All-Story Weekly, May 3, 1924 — page 14: what you’re looking at

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

804 he had never procured a sailor a job. He would fleece one with unconscionable skill, yes, but he had no dealings with skippers. The masters of those freighters that dropped anchor in that steaming bayou and took on their cargoes of maize, cottonseed and timber had little to do with Herzog or the Sundown Café. The innkeeper’s wife, Cora Herzog, was unquestionably the most disreputable character of any waterfront west of New Orleans. She was the confidante and evil genius of her husband as well as the harpy that made life miserable for him. She was a huge woman with small sparkling eyes and vividly rouged lips. Once the queen of the Sundown Cafe, ker beauty had swollen, her body degener- ating to a flabby mass wrapped in a sky- blue kimona. Her garterless stockings crept downward toward feet that were, it must be admitted, quite small — a relic of the old days of rule over the hearts of Creole and Cajan, shrimper and oyster man. Nowadays, however, those once beautiful feet, burdened by her great ham-like calves, shuffled around loosely in a pair of rope-soled slippers. ‘“ Now then, Herzog,” she said in greet- ing her trembling husband when the latter returned from his mission at the tomb in the cypress grove, “‘ what have you-all been doin’? You’ve been murderin’ somebody. Sure, that’s it. You’re tremblin’ and sweatin’ like you was poisoned.” “Sh! Shut your mag, you old bat!” her husband said with feverish eagerness. “T’ve done nothin’ and I’m afraid of no- body! Who’s goin’ to punish me for doin’ nothin’?’”’ He faltered. “ Unless—it’s some one from—out there.” He pointed his gnarled finger toward the Gulf of Mexico. ‘Some day we’re goin’ to get a visitor— a sea-devil from out there—who’s goin’ to ax us what we done with the body of Mate Grimpen of the Orinoco.” “ Poor little boll-worm!” his wife snorted disgustedly. ‘ Still worryin’ about the sea gettin’ you, ay? And after livin’ here a dozen years or more?” * T wasn't afraid of it then. days it didn’t harm nobody. I ain’t afraid of the water—that is not the water itself. In the old ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. It’s the men. It’s these here pirates and thugs that come with their tales, and their prayers and their dead men’s chests, like when Tom Yarre and Grimpen and El Gato tore the place down about our ears. “It was all right before the ship channel brought them mariners up here. The bayou was all right when there weren’t nothin’ sailin’ it but seine skiffs and flat boats. But now when you get these ocean-going freighters and their crews—I ain’t had a moment’s peace—nights of brawling, super- stition, murder! It’s the sea has brought all this, crawlin’ up through that ship channel which was built by the hand of man.” ‘“* Herzog!” Mme. Cora said,. exhaling a contemptuous snort of cigarette smoke, there’s one thing clearer to me than ever before: you’re goin’ plumb loco. You’re a Texas cowman, that’s all! You come down here thinkin’ you can run a sailors’ lodgin’ house on the Gulf, and the very smell of the old tide throws you into a fit.” The dame, as Herzog knew well enough, was absolutely right. “I want a shot of mescal!” was all he could say. “ Shag out of here and let me alone.” But Cora gave no evidence of doing any such thing. ‘ Herzog, you listen to me: speaking of cutthroat mariners, which they’re makin’ your life miserable, there’s a bird in there in the dining room that orter make what hair you got stand up with hysterics. He’s a big stew of a giant, barge- man or docker or maybe a sea cook. Which I ain’t seen a more villainous cutthroat from the day I married you.” The other evinced no interest, but Cora went on: “ Look here, now, vou little seed wart, get what I’m tellin’ you: instead of workin’ yourself up into the D. T.’s over something at sea that can’t come here un- less it’s a tidal wave, you better get down to business and manage your house. This bird has been itching for a scrap, and has frightened all of our customers out the front door. I’ve been handing him out too much cuevo and he’s gettin’ red eved. Now you go in there and show what sort of a man you are by bouncing that sweatin’ hulk out into the street.” COMIC DOO! C©