Argosy All-Story Weekly, October 25, 1924 — page 103: what you’re looking at

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

BUCCANEER BLOOD. “You perceive, monsieur,” the chatelaine said, “ this man, even with a knife in his cheek bone, still looks down upon you and grins!” When Wing boarded the dinghy which he had beached not far from the chateau, he shoved off and stood up to his sculling with all the vim of his hardy old body. He sculled down the black inlet toward his lugger, picking his way with ease through the open channels of the lily pads. It was a quicker and surer way than tacking through them under sail. Within the space of a few minutes, he swung his boat up alongside of the lugger. The Cockney engineer had already suc- ceeded in freeing himself from the ropes with which his enemy had bound him. Eagerly he leaped to the rail, fell to his knees and reached down, clutching the gun- wale of the dinghy. “So youre alone, Wing — are yer? Alone! I know’d it! No, don’t tell me wot’s happened to the other two. They’ve been done in—that’s wot! Don’t tell me abaht it! The whole thing’s too ’orrible. I seen a dead hare on shore yesterday—which means we’re all goin’. You and me gits ours now. Come aboard for ’ell’s sake, my man. Think I’m goin’ to hold you along- side orl night! I guess bloody well not! We make sail—you and me. And I’ve got as much steam as the ole boiler will carry.” Wing silenced the frantic little donkey- man with a burst of oaths. “ Still got the D. T.’s, ain’t yer, Dorset! Little shiverin’ whelp! Good mind to give you a clout like the way the chief done. They’re up there —them two; the chief and the half-breed. Dead? No one’s dead! Not yet! We breezed in with all sails set—no objections from nobody. Nobody armed—just a ole negro and a flat-footed bat of a woman. That’s all. Gave us a slug of somethin’ I can still feel scaldin’ me guts. And what am I here for? To take you back with me —for a banquet. That’s what. And in a hurry, too. Jump in, lay to an oar and row like hell.” “You say you seen a negro and a ole woman?” Dorset asked in a changed voice. “JT did.” 93 “Did you see the—the others?” ‘ Ain’t no others—yes, they’s a gal. But she didn’t come below. Stowed away up in her room—somewheres. We'll attend to her when we go back. Come aboard I said—and shove off.” “You didn’t see the others—” little Dor- set insisted in his nasal and frightened tones. ‘“Ain’t no others. Damn you!” ‘““ There is! So ’elp me God there is! Two of ’em! Two of ’em in dungarees—shirts with lace—bandannas abaht their bloody ’eads!”’ “The fit’s still on you, is it?” old Wing said seriously. He grasped the rail of the lugger moving his dinghy forward so that he could look directly up into the Cockney’s face. “Still ravin’, be you, Dorset! You little puppy!” ‘Ravin’ abaht nothin’, s’help me! It’s the honest-to-God truth! Two pirates—like them as used to ’aunt this bloody ’ole in the old days. One of ’em comes aboard, flips me under the lug. I drops. He binds me. Look at me wrists. Feel of ’em. Blood on ’em, ain’t they? That’s from my gettin’ free. Tore my skin freein’ meself. And there’s the line he used—see it wiv yer own eyes—a granny knot which I wriggled out of. So! A-shakin’ of yer bally ole head, are yer? Orl right. Come aboard, see for yourself. Go below there and take a look at the capting’s locker—which one of them > pirates rummaged in! Filched a good bit of his cartridges, too, s’help me!” “Look here, Dorset! What the hell is this nightmare you been havin’. Pirates, you say? Bad dreams of a little yaller whelp—that’s the truth of the matter. No more hedgin’. Get into this boat, and Ill scull you up, bein’ you’re too weak in the spine to lend a hand at the oars.” “And then wot ’appens?” Dorset went on, practically as if he had not been inter- rupted. ‘A ship comes bowlin’ out’n the mist, piling up a wave of light, all sails set and bellying out—” “ Bellyin’, is it?” Wing snickered. “TI told you you was dreamin’. There warn’t a streak of air. How could her sails fill—” “That’s just it!” Dorset cried. ‘ Slop me gob if that ain’t the truth. She was COMMICGLOOolkKs (E@)