Argosy All-Story Weekly, October 7, 1922 — page 22: what you’re looking at

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

168 penter broke in, “ workin’ on the anchor windlass. Hanson was there, too, on look- out, he’ll—”’ “You were there all that time?” “Yes, sir, J—” “Then that will account for you and Hanson. I am glad the lookout is able to offer an alibi. The number now stands at twenty-five. Seven sailors—” ‘We was all together, all of us in the fo’c’sle, sir,”’ a lanky, serious-faced youth spoke up. “ Nils, Frog ’n’ Dutch playin’ black jack with me, and Shorty there ’n’ Curley ’n’ Fritz corkin’ off in their bunks. Seven of us, yes, sir.” “Did any one of you leave the fo’c’sle for any reason at any time?” “No, sir!’”? The protest came from a chorus of agitated voices. ‘* Kighteen.”’ Hendriks stared expectantly in the di- rection of the black gang. “Fay was shootin’ craps with me,” one of the oilers volunteered. “ Both of you oilers?” ‘Yes, sir.” “You're called ‘ Red,’ aren’t you?” “Yes, sir.” “Thus making sixteen—four firemen, and two coal passers. Santos ”—Hendriks directly addressed one of the firemen— “ how about it?” Santos swung a slumbrous Latin-Ameri- can eye in Hendriks’s direction and draped his hand with a careless gesture upon his hip. 6¢ Slip.” “You were asleep?” ‘* Me—slip.” “‘ Santos, him sleep ’—a coal passer, an impassioned coal passer, took the floor— “him he sleep, Mendoza him sleep, Ali him sleep. Pedro, Phillipe, me, we make laugh, make sing. Pedro him play guitar tum, tum, tum, we—” “Ves, yes, just 2 minute, six of you— all together?” “ Sair-tenly.” “In the firemen’s fo’c’sle?” “ Sair-ten-ly.” “ And that leaves ten—exactly the num- ber of the steward’s department. Steward, what have you to say?” ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. Distrust and ingenerate aversion were concentrated in the glances of the white men now turned upon the ten intruders, the ten little yellow men whose neighbors were edging away, leaving them a group distinct to themselves. “Kes, sair.” Hong Wing spoke, and lapsed into a contemplative silence. “* Well?” “Me with first cook, second cook, third ‘cook—all in one room.” “ ‘Your room?” ** Cook’s room.” ** Doing what?” Hong Wing smiled, then he shrugged his shoulders. “* Make talk, sair.” “* And the six mess boys?”’ *‘ Four sleep. Two compose elegant let- ters to their honorable parents, sair.” “¢ All up for’rd?” 6 Kes, sair.”’ “And that,” stated Hendriks, after a brief struggle with the figures on the pad, ‘* gives us the interesting problem of sub- tracting forty-seven men from forty-seven men and leaving—whom?”’ CHAPTER IV. SEARCH. STEADILY increasing rumble of ejac- ulations, oaths, fragmentary sen- tences, and a sluggish milling around marked the breaking up of the meeting in the saloon. The men started crowding out by the two doorways, those on the starboard side hushing into inquisitive stillness and smoothing a lane through which Rutledge, followed by Sparks, entered. Those who were still in the saloon hesi- tated, eager for further developments, snatching encompassing eyefuls of the star personage in the drama that was rocketing through the void of their monotonies. The star, with becoming modesty, kept his eyes riveted upon a vinegar cruet that clicked time to his advancing with the stately rolling of the vessel. Sparks swam in the illustrious wale much like a flower maiden at a wedding. comiclbooolx C©