The Frontier, May 1926 — page 23: what you’re looking at

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

“That is, I know they’re good seamen, and honest. Sailed with them before I got my ticket. They asked me just now if I knew anything about this treasure trip, and when I told them I’m mate aboard, they asked for a bil- let. I’m going to give ’em a recom- mend to the skipper this afternoon.” “Well, that’s fine,” commented Don- ovan next day, when we noted the three men working aboard the Anthony Wayne. “Let me out of it slick, too.” Meanwhile I spent the greater part of my time aboard the Anthony Wayne, counting the days until we were ready to go, and intensely inter- ested in everything that was going on aboard her. At last the supplies were stowed away, the vessel was ready, and we were summoned to go on board, thirty-six men all told. I remember well how I thrilled when the great white sails were broken out, and the anchor came up, and we stood on the clean, white deck to wave good-by to the crowds on shore. We were off to our great adventure at last. CHAPTER VI WE SIGHT THE ISLAND HAT a journey that was! From the very first it ap- peared that fortune | intended to smile Se} Of Our venture, for we enjoyed the steadiest of re- freshing breezes throughout, accom- panied with the balmiest of weather, save when rounding the Horn, Everyone was comfortable aboard. The enlarging of the after cabin made room for the construction of six snug staterooms, three on each side, leaving the middle space clear for use as a din- ing and lounging room. There was ample room for a broad oaken table, several comfortable chairs, and a cush- ioned settee under the stern ports in the space aft of the lower companion- way; and there was also a lazaret, where Sam, my uncle’s body servant, was wont to display his skill at mixing toddies, and a little chart-room on the port side, forward, built especially for the skipper. The whole had been tinted in green and white, and was very cheerful in aspect. And the men forward were enjoying far greater space than might have been allotted them on an ordinary voyage. Though my uncle was aboard, there was but one captain. He—my uncle, that is—never so much as gave an THE DEVIL’S CALDRON order from the time we brought up the anchor to the day we dropped it again in Drake’s Bay. Dirk Van Tas- sel was supreme on his own quarter- deck, and he maintained discipline as strict as that on a man-o’-war. Woe to the shirker who tried to take ad- vantage of the fact that there were double the men ordinarily employed aboard! The brass work might have been used for mirrors by a primping belle; the decks were holystoned until they were as clean as driven snow. There was seldom a minute when those on watch were not kept busy. On those who disagreed with this program the captain’s hand fell heav- ily. But, on the whole, there were very few incidents of this sort. This, I think, was due to the example of the man Fallon. He appeared to be a jewel. With his black, impish Celtic features, his merry blue eyes, and his flashing, golden smile, he was very popular with the men; and he was ever ready to spring forward to the head of the line when a haul on a rope was needed, and forever breaking out into a cheery, rollicking chanty. As for his chum, Martin, that worthy remained the same gruff, lowering gorilla of my first encounter; but he, too, was prompt and willing and quickly proved that he knew his work from stem to stern. “T should think you might have rec- ommended them!” I remarked one day to Donovan, “There are no more able seamen aboard,” “Right you are!” Donovan declared. “And have you noted Dumphey ?” I nodded, for the man’s peculiar ap- pearance would have attracted atten- tion anywhere. He was a blond giant, with a great, round, moon-like face, flat and sallow. He had scarcely any brows over his slanting, albino. eyes, and his features, in repose, had some- thing about them that suggested the Mongolian. Yet when you spoke to him, he was smiling on the instant; and he performed his duties with ex- ceptional skill. “A good man,” I said; and later f heard Captain Van Tassel speaking of them to the mate. “Bedder as some I bicked mine- selluf,” he grunted. In the after cabin the feeling was excellent—with the possible exception of that between Donovan and the skipper. This never cropped above the surface, but was manifested al- most imperceptibly. [f Donovan spoke to him, the captain always replied very courteously—a little too courteously, if 18 anything. He was impersonal in his expression when looking at Donovan —so impersonal, in fact, that I sensed a marked animosity which he was hold- ing in check for the sake of peace in the party. Donovan did not allow this to ruffle his good spirits in the least. He had an inimitable way of telling a story, with eloquent grimaces and a slap of his knee at the climax which set my uncle roaring with laughter and the judge to chuckling till his fat stomach shook. It was something to see the three of them sitting at the table, with the brass lamp swinging, and the moon shining on the ship’s rippling wake, and my uncle holding his toddy sus- pended when Donovan approached a side-splitting end to his yarn. Even the skipper would forget to smoke on these occasions, as he sat back, listen- ing; he would hold his pipe in one hand, leaning a bit forward, and watching Donovan intently; and then, when the laugh was at its height, and he thought no one was watching him, he would clap his pipe back in his mouth, and eye Donovan through the drifting smoke with a puzzled little frown. “He’s the best companion I’ve had on a voyage!’ my uncle exclaimed one day. “Even including yourself, Judge.” And the judge chuckled, add- ing a word of praise for the man on his own account, “Of course,” Uncle George went on, “I don’t know the man from a ton of coal. But I can’t see but what he’s trustworthy, all through.” And he shook his head, “I sense,” he contin- ued, “that Van Tassel doesn’t like the man, though he never says a word. However, that’s to be expected, I sup- pose. He rather—he, he!—took the feathers out of poor old Dirk’s cap on his own quarter-deck, and that would stick even in my crop, I'll admit.” In truth, I believed, on my own ac- count, that the skipper was being rather small in the matter, and that his attitude toward Donovan was absurd and even childish. The giant never so much as stepped forward of the waist ; nor did he speak to any member of the crew, that I could see, save in the presence of one of us, and then only casually, in answering a question. Now and again he would go on the poop, when the mate was on watch; but none of us thought anything of this at the time, for Jenkins’ admiration for the man was so manifest that all noted it, “A good boy,” said my uncle, “and has been in my service—let’s see, now COnniclboooKkS. com