Argosy All-Story Weekly, May 3, 1924 — page 74: what you’re looking at

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

864 captain was not slow to remark upon the fact. ‘“‘ Best thing I ever did, Mr. Dunbar, was shifting you back to second,” he taunted, in sarcastic tone. ‘“‘I don’t know what’s the matter with you, according to your name you ought to be a smart, officer. But a paralytic could almost show you up. For God’s sake, just see if you can’t put a little gyp into your watch, and remember this is a clipper-ship, not a hay-wagon.” Broken in rank, crippled in body, things certainly looked black for Richard Dunbar. But he was no quitter, he was a sport right through. The glass was falling rapidly, and the wind was making. Every time the old man went below he came up with increasing satisfaction. By three o’clock a stiff breeze had spgung up. On the sky-stabbing main truck the scarlet burgee was beating out as flat as a board, the highflyer was a magic sign aboard Valkyrie. Captain Forbes in the brief period of the afternoon watch presented the spectacle of a man, recreated, born anew. The old Forbes vanished with the calm. Another Forbes came with the gale. Gone the surly, misanthropic scowl, in its place appeared the rapt expression of one whose great day at last was dawning. Before the afternoon watch was over, every stitch of canvas that they carried was shaken out. Night coming on, before its time, beheld Valkyrie racing over a maddening ocean, under a lurid sky. Day went out too soon, as though chased away in terror before the wildering dark. There was no twilight glow, as Richard Dunbar came on for the night watch. ‘““Only just past eight bells, and already it’s as black as the inside of a boot. We're in for it,” said the boson. The breeze had now grown to half a gale, the wind music in the shrouds, and the eternal roar of the scuppers sounded to the ears of Captain Forbes as sweetest music. The Valkyrie in the squalls, under her tremendous pressure, went over and over, until in the fiercest moments the seas were foaming level with her hatches.. Forward ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. of the midship house, it was unlivable with bursting seas. The tall skysail poles were bent like coaching whips. Gazing aloft at this awe inspiring sight, Pugsley felt the qualms of caution. But there was no caution in the heart of Bully Forbes. With the eye of one who knew, he studied Valkyrie’s every lift and plunge. As the gale grew in fury his delight in his new clipper knew no bounds. Forgetting the grim taciturnity, the flood gates of speech were at last loosed. He paced up and down talking aloud to the soaring clipper, in the tones that some gal- lant might have used to his lady love. ‘“‘ Ah, this is to your liking, my lass. I can see that now. You had me vexed at the start. But that was because I didn’t understand you. “It’s not light air ghosting that your heart was made for. No, like all the rest of Donald MacKay’s lovely lasses, you were made to ride the gales. Your top- hamper was not for kissing zephyrs.” Forbes was gazing aloft at the soaring yards and rigging where the gale shrieked and whistled. At last he exclaimed in ecstasy: “Yes, by Jove, I believe that Donald MacKay has done it. Here’s a top-hamper that’ll stand the strain.” When a squall of exceptional fury sent . the poop plunging, the old man would grab the mizzen shrouds. Every lift and dive of the hull, every pull and give of the gear was studied by him with an artist’s eye. Driving into a heavy head sea, the Val- kyrie buried her long sharp bows in a smother of magic foam, blinding the decks in a curtain of spray. Forbes was beside himself in joy at the new found beauties of his clipper. In tones of adoration he spoke again: “Who says she’s overhatted now! _* Who says she’s too sharp now!” The skipper raised his voice, as though he strove to reach old Gertridge, and all the rest of those taunting gentlemen ashore. ‘“ Aye, we had to fight for you, me lass, but you’re worth it all.” Captain Forbes had not slept in his bunk since the anchor was hove up in Boston Harbor. He had snatched winks of fitful AA cConnicloooks.com