Argosy All-Story Weekly, October 25, 1924 — page 92: what you’re looking at

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

82 The whining cockney voice was cut short by a husky growl—evidently the “ capting ” himself: “On your knees is it? Yah! That’s where you belong, Dorset, snivelin’ little coward that ye are. If we hauled up any closer to the house with you in tow you’d be screamin’ bloody murder just when we was about to pull off somethin’ good. You stay here: First, because I never leaves my ship—no matter what its size, without an anchor watch; second, because you’re too scairt to do any fightin’.” “Why do we need an anchor watch—or any watch, capting?” another voice put in —a voice that was tremulous and wheezy, as if belonging to a man who was not only very excited, but very old. “ Do you ask me that, Wing?” the voice of the captain shot back angrily. ‘“‘ Ain’t no one ever cruisin’ about in these waters, captain!” the wheezy voice replied apologetically. ““'They’s supposed to be a ole negro up there, ain’t they? What if he’s snoopin’ about in a skiff? What if he seen us sailin’ up this last reach, and is waitin’ his chanst to come aboard as soon as we go ashore? Might you can turn that over in your tooth- less ole gums. Wing—blitherin’ sea-cook that y’are!” There was no comment from the wheezy voice—nor from any one for a moment or two. The leader of the crew seemed to be ruminating before giving his last instruc- tions for making the attack upon the cha- teau. Then came that whining sobbing voice of the cockney. It drifted through the mandrakes like the voice of a man in mortal anguish; it was as if the man were in the throes of a nightmare, attempting to give his utterance all the power of his lungs, but succeeding only in a gibber: “T tell you, capting, I’m in a funk. I’m goin’ crazy—slop me gob if that ain’t the truth! My brain’s like as if somethin’ was touchin’ it—churnin’ it—somethin’ soft. I’m sick—’e 2 in me belly. The stink of these swamps. Yer carn’t leave me, capting. Yuss, you said it—howl bloody murder— that’s wot! You'll hear me howl, orl righto! Look at me—a-holdin’ of me mouth so’s I won’t howl, s’help me God!” ARGOSY-ABELSTORY WEEKLY. This speech was terminated abruptly by a resounding thud—something like the dull thwack of a sledge on the head of a steer. It was followed—at an interval of it seemed several seconds—by the sound of a body crashing to a deck. ‘‘ A-holdin’ yer mouth is it?” It was the husky growl of the captain. “ Good! That ll hold your mouth for you—and might it “ll take your mind off’n the swamp and set it on a good healthy toothache.” ‘‘'You’ve come aboard of the blowsy little swob, captain,” said the wheezy, tremulous voice. “ He’s a bit small for a blow like that!” “You crossin’ me again, Wing? You ain’t too old but that I’ll stretch you on the deck—if you tell me to measure my blows.” “I ain’t crossin’ ye, skipper—not me. Leave me douse a bucket of water on him— There—that’ll give him his bearin’s again.” ‘While he’s comin’ to, you git that dinghy alongside, Wing. Parson you muffle them oar-locks with whatever ye can lay your hands on, and grease ’em, too. See that your guns is loaded and then we'll invite ourselves into the ole castle—by the front door. Just like we was guests. That’s allus my way. Ain’t no use proclaimin’ yourselves robbers when ye’re on the out- side. Wait till ye’re aboard, says I, then tell ’em your names.” A succession of desperate and whimpering | moans—like a dog expecting momentarily a lash on his back—answered the captain’s instructions. A swishing sound—as of a bucketful of water washing down the decks was followed by the tremulous voice of the old man— the one they called Wing: “ I reckon that’ll bring him to, captain.” The captain’s husky voice broke into a soft growling laugh. “ All righto, my little scruffer!” he said. ‘* Stay on yer back where I put you. Don’t try to haul yerself up. We’re goin’ ashore to do a bit of fightin’ while you snooze off yer headache. And mind this: If I find ye drunk when I come aboard agin, I'll flenze your thin hide for you till you do some real honest-to-God howlin’. None of this whimperin’. I said howlin’.” COMMIELOOOKS (C@)