Judge — September 26, 1914 — page 8: what you’re looking at

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

HE OWNER of the Seabird stepped luxuriously out upon the after-deck (or quarter-deck or whatever deck it is that owners step luxuriously out upon) and sank into a willow chair, which crackled as only very expensive willow chairs crackle. He took a handful of ivory poker chips from the table and flipped them idly into the silly waves and wondered what was to be done. Pembroke Throckmorton was bored. The seashore had bored him, the mountains had driven him posi- tively frantic. Europe was impossible, everything he had tried had been absolutely disagreeable. Asa last resort he had taken to his yacht, and now that was becoming deadly dull. Pembroke gazed out over the disgustingly broad Pacific and sighed. Why couldn’t the chump of a skipper manage to pass a romantic derelict or be attacked by pirates or something? The skipper should be discharged immediately upon arriving home. No skipper with his chosen lifework really at heart would allow such an uneventful voyage. A telescope rolled from the table to the floor, and Pembroke picked it up. He smiled in a reminiscent way, for he had had great sport with that telescope when they first started. He used to stand on the deck and gaze at the horizon through it, and it made him feel quite the bold mariner and discoverer and all that sort of thing. He wondered if it would work again, so he put it to his eye, focused it and saw—a petticoat! “Oh, I sa: He sprang to his feet and looked again, and there it was! A purple petticoat attached to a pole, which was in turn at- tached to an island. “On my word, one of those shipwrecked chaps—regular shipwrecked chap! No, no! Can’t be a chap. Shipwrecked chaps don’t use petticoats to signal. It’s a girl! Fancy a Robinson Ka RALPH BARTON shipwrecked girl! How odd! How very, very odd!"" Pembroke was excited. One could almost notice an expression on his face. He pulled the skipper out of his magazine. “Captain, fast as you can, over to that island! Shipwrecked girl! Silly, isn’t it? Wonder what's just proper to say to her. Hope she hasn't had a rough time of it—especially if the weather's been un- kind to her clothes! I guess—she’s a petticoat to spare!"’ Presently Pembroke was putting off in the launch, standing in the bow, as all rescuers should, holding a flag. It was his yacht club pennant, but that didn't matter. When they were close enough, Pembroke jumped to the beach and cried, ‘I say! Hello!’’ The ‘‘Hello!’’ acted as a signal for a score or so of the most outlandishly dressed and savage savages to leap from the brush and snatch up Pembroke. They dragged him toward the interior, yelling wildly and dane- ing a furious war dance, the while waving gaudy pieces of cloth, savage-looking jewelry and brillaint feathers. They soon came to a village of huts. Pembroke was thrust through the door of the largest of these huts into the arms of—Eleanor Villington! “Pemby! Youdear! I never expected you! It's positively gorgeous of you to call!’’ Pembroke blinked for fifty-nine seconds. “Look here, Eleanor! I got off my yacht to answer a signal and was seized by a lot of beasts, and was beginning to wonder whether I was to be filet mignon or a la king, when I'm thrown at you! You, of all persons! Why, we've been saying nice things to your memory for four months, and—and even now I’m blessed if 1 can see why you haven’t been eaten by these heathen!" “It’s as simple as you are, Pemby. Our silly ship went down, and the next thing I knew I was propped up between two Crusoette comicbooks.com