The Frontier, May 1926 — page 15: what you’re looking at

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

maintained ever since coming aboard. In my opinion he was, in truth, a shade the better navigator of the two; and there had been times when I sensed that he was fairly itching to crowd on canvas when the skipper was taking in sail. But he never put forward an Opinion in opposition to Van Tassel’s views. From the very first he had taken his trick as a sort of extra mate, ever being ready with a cheery, “Ay, ay, sir!” when the skipper gave an order. So now Captain Van Tassel lowered his own telescope and an- swered pleasantly. “Vell, sir,’ he said, “I subbose I have to. But I don’t choost like it, the looks from her,’’ ‘And right you were, sir!” Roaring Bill exclaimed, nodding emphatically. “I was going to say I had heard some- ‘at about that craft. I can’t rightly re- member what, nor where—but it wasn’t good, and, anyway, you're right not to like the looks of any Britisher these days.” Captain Van Tassel nodded on his own account; but, he pointed out, com- mon humanity bade him to give the Retriever’s crew the benefit of the doubt. If they were pirates and look- ing for another ship, it was patent that they were in no position to fire upon the Anthony Wayne, since their ship was unmanageable and plainly sink- ing. As for being boarded at the last minute, the skipper said that he would take steps to forestall this. Forthwith all hands were piped on deck. Pistols and cutlases were handed out; the jackets were removed from our long nines, which were four in number; and the brass guns were then loaded with double shot and slugs. Not until then did Van Tassel give orders to bear down on the Retriever; where- upon Donovan entered the cabin. “Vell,” the captain shouted, when we were hove-to close to the sinking vessel, “vot do you vant?” The Retriever’s skipper, who was standing on his quarter deck, eyed our captain for a moment with open mouth. He was a tall, spare man, with wide, bony shoulders, a flat, sallow face, and long, drooping yellow mus- tachios. Around his head he wore a blood-stained blue scarf, while two heavy silver-mounted pistols were thrust into a yellow silk sash which he had bound round his waist. He was far from prepossessing in appear- ance; nor were the half dozen men near him of pleasing aspect. They were a brandy-faced lot of muscular, THE DEVIL’?S CALDRON weather-beaten old tars: some with their whiskers curled in tight little ringlets; some with brass rings hang- ing from their ear lobes; and all bear- ing a scar or two and giving the im- pression that their calloused hands were fully as used to the “heft” of a cutlas as the feel of a rope. “Vell,” Captain Van ‘Tassel re- peated, “I say it again: vot do you vant ?” “Want?” cried the Retriever’s skip- per then, “Why, what but to come aboard? You’ve an eye in your head, T reckon; this craft is slated for Davy Jones’ locker, and that before sun- down. Met up with a couple of Frenchies, and they shot me full o’ holes.” “Vot I meant vas diss,” Captain Van Tassel went on imperturbably. “You have it a boat left, maybe?” “All stove in,” was the reply. “Vell, den, how many vas you?” For the answer the Retriever’s cap- tain stepped to a hatchway and said something which we could not hear. In a trice the sound of the pumps ceased, and four men came tumbling up on deck. “There you sees “em,” said he with the yellow sash. “Eleven, with me.” Then he looked us over, and smiled. To their eleven, all apparently un- armed, save the captain, we presented a front numbering seventeen men, armed to the teeth. “Saw you load- ing them guns,” the stranger went on. “Well, now, if you’re on that lay, there’s plenty cargo yet that ain’t hurt by water—enough, anyway, to pay you for the trouble of layin’ alongside. As for us—why, we haven’t much choice, we ain’t. All we asks is quar- ter, and a foot ashore, any place. Us, and four wounded.” “Ve ain’t birates,” grunted Captain Can Tassel. ‘“Choost the same, dough, ve lay alongside und dakes vot dere is for zalvage—und for bassage monies. Jess. But see here. You're sure dot’s all the men vot you have, eh?” “Certainly,” growled the stranger. “Rest of my crew scuttled.” “All right,” our skipper returned. “Only remember—vun false moof, und it iss hell for you.” And he gave orders to lay alongside. While this maneuver was being ex- ecuted I stepped down from the poop. It appeared that my chances for en- gaging in a sea fight were gone glim- mering, and I found myself torn be- tween relief and a sense of disap- pointment. Then, while I was pacing 5) about and gripping my cutlas nerv- ously, | looked into the cabin and saw Roaring Bill Donovan coming up from the lazarette. In his hands he carried a keg of powder. Instantly curious, I ran into the cabin. Donovan had placed the keg on the deck, and was busy with a brace and bit boring a small hole through the top. “What are you going to do?’ | asked. “Watch,” he said. Removing a bit of fuse from his pocket, he inserted it in the hole, leaving a bare inch pro- truding. This he secured with a bit of wax snatched from a candleholder. Next he produced a bit of tarry rope, which he ignited with flint and tin- der. “Now,” he said, blowing on the glowing coal at the end of his im- provised torch, “I don’t know as I’d ‘ve dealt with them swabs same as the skipper’s doing. But nemmind that; he’s skipper, and a good one. Just the same, I don’t trust them swabs, and, by the Flying Dutchman, if they makes a crooked move, you'll see something.” “But aren't you apt to blow your- self and the lot of us up before you can get that away?” I cried, looking askance at that short fuse. Donovan looked at me once more in a sidelong fashion. “Son, don’t you go to frettin’ about old Bill,” he said, dryly. “I knows what I’m about.” For a second J considered speaking to the captain, but in the next breath I thought better of it. For one thing, the man’s very assurance inspired con- fidence; for another, I, too, was skep- tical about the actual number of men still aboard the Retriever. We had had no opportunity of looking into her hold. So as Donovan stepped to the cabin door and halted there, wait- ing, I went out on deck and paused nearby. Then everything seemed to happen in the space of a few heartbeats. E HAD barely come alongside the Re- triever when her captain raised a whistle to his lips and blew a sharp blast. The men on his deck stooped swiftly and came up with cutlases and pistols which they had hidden at their feet, close against the bulwarks. Mean- time a swarm of men came roaring out Gomicbooksxeom