The Frontier, May 1926 — page 20: what you’re looking at

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

10 my uncle, George Bellew, and his al- most - inseparable companion, Judge Pemberton, riding in a small boat. “That your uncle with the white hair?” asked Donovan, who was stand- ing beside me on the poop. He was nodding at the judge, a man six feet in height, with very round, red cheeks, a pair of black eyebrows, as black as coal, and a great, upstand- ing mop of white hair, which he wore in a queue, in lieu of a wig. He was a very quiet man, as a rule, but keenly observant of everything around him, usually preferring to move his eyes rather than his head when glancing about. These eyes were black and brilliant, making a sharp contrast with his red cheeks and white hair; and his double chin was drawn back somewhat into the folds of his stock, while his tightly compressed lips dropped sharp- ly at the corners, giving one the im- pression that here was a very stern and stately man indeed. As usual he was sitting very erect, with his square hands folded over a gold-headed cane. No; -I replied to Donovan, “the other’s my uncle.” Immediately Donovan chuckled, for my uncle, though nearly as old as the judge—who approached forty-five— had caught sight cf me and was wav- ing and shouting like any lad. He, too, was a large, broad-shouldered man; but though he was one of the wealth- iest shippers in Savannah, he was de- scribed by his associates as an over- grown, boisterous boy. He was ever ready to shake your hand or fight you for the sport of it; he would wager on any contest, from a cock fight to a horse race; and notl:ing, I do believe, would have suited him better than to put to sea under the Jolly Roger for the sheer sport of the thing. Aunt Martha, who occasionally called him Vesuvius, and described her life with him as a “career,” may, in all likeli- hood, be given credit for keeping him from an inglorious end on the gallows. “1 think he'll go,” said Donovan, as I shouted back to Uncle George. Still shouting salutations, Uncle George came closer in, and looked up at us with his handsome, dark face wteathed in smiles. He had flashing white teeth, snapping brown eyes, and clear-skinned, aquiline features which might well have tempted a sculptor. “Well, old sober-sides,” he yelled at Captain Van Tassel, “what has the Dutchman brought home this time?” The skipper, who had been walking a day or more, smiled and removed his pipe. ‘ THE FRONTIER “Blunder,” he replied. “Und _ bi- rates. Und a shot in mine leg.” “What?” cried Uncle George—and in a moment he was coming aboard us, wildly excited. Captain Van Tassel told the story briefly, in a characteristic monotone. Uncle George hung on every word, his eyes dilated, and every now and then breaking in with a delighted exclama- tion. Even the judge forgot to look so terribly formidable and bent for- ward with eager interest. When the skipper touched on Dono- van’s exploit, he spared himself not a whit. Uncle George, I saw at once, had taken an instant liking to Dono- van; and now, as that worthy stood quietly by, looking very modest indeed, my impetuous relative seized him by the hand and wrung it heartily. But immediately afterward he clapped the skipper a resounding blow on the back. “Not a word of blame to you!” he cried, with a deep affection ringing in his voice. “I would probably have done the same identical thing. All’s well that ends well—and if you hadn’t heaved alongside, Captain Donovan couldn't have thrown the keg, and they might have tripped you up later. Tut, tut, not a word. As for the men, they shall have two hundred pounds apiece, by the Lord Harry! I'll take care of you, Skipper, and you, Captain Dono- van, never fear. And you—” he wheeled and threw an affectionate arm around my shoulder—“so you've won your spurs with a cutlas, eh? Bless my soul, I’d ’ve given much to have been there and watched you do it, my boy.” Now, to tell the truth, I had suf- fered several twinges of conscience when thinking about the chart, for I felt, somehow, that I should have taken Captain Van Tassel into my con- fidence. My uncle’s display of affec- tion for his trusted henchman stirred my conscience anew. So, when he and the judge and the skipper retired to the cabin to go over the log and mani- fests, I spoke of my feelings to Don- ovan. “Well,” he said, turning out his palms, and raising his eyebrows and shoulders, “how was I to know how they stood? But here: I'll explain that to your uncle, soon as he’s free.” When the skipper came out I told Uncle George we had something more of importance to tell him, and Don- ovan and I were admitted at once. Uncle George looked from one to the other of us inquiringly. “Not more surprises?” he cried, jovially, “Can’t stand too much all in one morning, you know.” ; “Well, sir,” said Donovan, extract- ing a rectangular packet from his shirt, “it'll be a surprise, I shouldn’t wonder. This here’s the key to something like a million pounds.” \ Y UNCLE’S mouth flew open; the judge dropped his cane, “Buried trea s- ure?” my uncle cried. “Yes — Jerry Blunt’s,” Donovan replied. Uncle George stared at him for sev- eral seconds. “Well,” he said, then, “go on.” Speaking easily, the giant told how he had come upon the chart. Seeing a man dodge into the cabin during the fight, he said, he had rushed in upon him. The man was jerking the packet from a locker. Having cut him down, Donovan said, he had thrust the thing into his shirt. “T half suspected what it was at the time,” he said. “Anyway, it was some- thing that mate wanted desperate bad. Like as not he figgered to buy his life with it.” Having examined it later, he went on, he had at first decided to say noth- ing about it until he reached Savannah and had an audience with the ship’s owner. Then he told of McCallum’s proposal in my presence and of our subsequent compact, At this my uncle frowned and banged his fist on the table. “You both did very wrong!” he cried. “I mean, sir, in not telling Cap- tain Van Tassel. I trust him. He is myself, in fact, when at sea, so far as anything happening on board is con- cerned.” Donovan shrugged placatingly. “How was I to know all that?” he cried. “Point is this, though. Here I be, talking with a man able to outfit an expedition, I take it, and the man entitled to a chance at it, seein’ as how it was his ship picked me up, and all that. Now——” “George,” the judge cut in, “don’t be so confounded ethical. The man saved your ship; he found the chart; and now he’s here with it.” “Very well,” said my uncle, smiling once more. “But if I agree to finance it, Captain Van Tassel is to sail the ship, and share.” “Fair enough!” Donovan cried in- stantly, his face beaming. MICLOOO (CO) <SriGOim