The Frontier, May 1926 — page 19: what you’re looking at

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

stays, man. What about the blunt?” “T’m a-comin’ to that,” said Mce- Callum. “One fine day, after such a session, Jerry pipes all hands. ““We'll take a vacation,’ he says. ‘We'll sail for the isles where the coo- coo smiles,’ he says. ‘We'll let ’em forget us a while, and load up with pearls in the meantime.’ That’s what he says. So we stands for the Horn and off into the big Pacific, a-sailin’ and a-sailin’ from one island to an- other, a-trading junk for pearls. Bar- ring the Horn, it was like a picnic, with the sea so smooth as the palm o’ your hand, and a new drink to sample in every island. “But a man gets tired of anything in time; and we was all for turning back, gibbet or no gibbet, We'd got our shares, all fair and square, and we said we'd go back with them. But Jerry was afraid for his own. He'd keep enough to outfit a ship sometime, he said, then lay low somewhere till the noise blew over, and come back later. Failin’ that, he had a niece he wanted to get the blunt, in case he was caught and swung, “*They’ve got this ship spotted,’ he says, ‘and where’ll your blunt be if they get us on the way back?’ “*We'll risk it,’ we says. But Jerry was still o’ the same mind. So one day when some forty niggers was aboard us, tradin’, what does he do but have us slough ’em in irons, and off we sails for the Devil’s Caldron. There he goes ashore—him and the forty niggers, still in chains, and a- luggin’ o’ the chests with Jerry’s share.” McCallum paused, and spat. “Well,” he continued, “not a man of us was with ‘em, and where he took ‘em we never knew. They was ashore a matter o’ several days, hid in the jungles, though he come back once with some o’ them for axes and blocks and falls. Meantime we're layin’ to in the anchorage which he names Drake’s Bay. But finally here he comes—him and the forty niggers. ‘T suppose,’ says he, ‘you figger you'll teach these niggers how to talk Eng- lish. But if you do,’ says he, ‘it’ll be on the Judgment Day. Pickle ’em in brine,’ he says, ‘and they'll keep better till Gabriel toots his horn.” And with that he has us make ’em walk the plank, right there in the anchorage.” “He weren't no fool,’ Donovan com- mented. “And how did Brazil get the chart ?” “Why, we got rid o’ the old Sea Lion in Rio, d’y’see, and separated. But ~—~ THE DEVIL?S CALDEON, Slim, he went on his own, and some of us joined him. Well, about a month ago, in Baltimore, Slim ran across Jerry—under another name, of course. What took place I can’t say—Slim was that close-mouthed. Knifed old Jerry, like as not. Anyway, he come aboard and told me and the mate he has the chart. And we was a-sailin’ for the Devil’s Caldron, unbeknownst to the men, when we fell in with those Frenchies.” “And you never saw the chart?’ said Donovan. “Not opened up, no.” Donovan thought a minute. “Well,” he said presently, “you keep mum, and I’ll parley with you again.” And, as soon as the man was back with his fellows, “Jack,® Donovan said to me, with a shrewd look, “you’ve guessed that chart were what I took from that mate. But it’s placed now where it'll be hard to find. Don’t ask me to show it to you till we gets in. But I’ve a proposition to make. This being your uncle’s ship, and I needing one to get this blunt, I'll dicker with dail f, S$ (WA & IN ABE SSS Ml ee \\\\.\ ee - ‘i S=———— NW S f aed ess x SS cere “Where we took ’em we never knew’ him when we gets in. Ili he'll outfit us, he’s to have—well, say seventy per- cent. above expenses for his risk.” What could I answer? He had the ~ chart hidden, and possession is even better than nine points. Besides, he had saved the ship and my life as well. “All right,” I said, “but I’d like to see the chart.” “No,” said he. “Someone might stumble on us while I’m a-showing it —and I’ve seen mutinies and knives going for far less, by the Flying Dutchman! We'll keep mum; that’s our cue. And we'll go straight to your uncle when we Jand.” _And, as the anchor 9 ' “Very weli, then,’ I said, and we shook hands upon it, ° CuHaptrr IV MY UNCLE AGREES N THE night we sighted land Dono- van managed Mc- Callum’s escape. The captain was below; the mate, Jenkins, was on the poop. By pre- arrangement with Donovan, McCallum asked permission to speak to the skip- per. Only his wrists were ironed; and as Donovan led him back along the dark deck he quickly unlocked the pi- rate’s fetters. He went overboard with a leap, Donovan dropping the irons with him. There was no moon; he was out of sight at once, and with less than a quarter of a mile to swim, and a quiet sea, his chances for reach- ing shore were excellent. “Probably preferred that way of ending it to being swung and sutn- dried,” was Donovan’s imperturbable explanation to the skipper. “Vell,’ Van Tassel commented, stroking his blond chin tuft, and pull- ing at his pipe, “id’s a small matter.” I was glad that the skipper was not looking at me at the time. My face, I know, was as red as fire; but a diver- sion sent him out on deck before he noted it. The diversion was created by one Barnaby Horn, a hand before the mast. Barring the calculations in- volved in setting a course there was no one aboard who knew more about ships than this wily old seaman. It was a treat to see him scamper aloft when a rope had fouled, and he was the best helmsman aboard. But Barnaby had one great failing. He would find rum in the Sahara, given time; and no camel ever boasted a greater capacity. Yet, when he was sober, he was often to be seen under an awning on the fo’c’sle deck, with a Bible on his knees, a pair of horn- rimmed glasses down at the tip of his red nose, and his leathery, deeply- creased features painfully wrinkled as his horny finger moved laboriously from word to word! And now, hear- ing a yell on deck, the skipper went out to find Barnaby aglow with the contents of a stolen bottle. So I was enabled: to straighten my features. That night we lay to in the roads, and made anchorage the next day. plunged, out came VNOOKS CORN (COMNMUG