Adventure, August 3, 1919 — page 111: what you’re looking at

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

e ij * 4 ; f But the exertion that Crawson’s men had been driven to was short-lived; it was be- yond their powers to keep it up. — : In the meantime the waves were rapidly rising, for the wind, which had been blowing briskly from the northwest, suddenly shifted to the southwest with increased force. And now, instead of being compelled to pull partly against the wind, Crawson had both wind and water at his back driving him along his proper course faster than twenty oars could have done. But the same wind which drove his boat up the watery mountains and down across the seething valleys did the same for his pur- suers. Nevertheless, Crawson welcomed the storm, which by now had turned the sky to a black shroud and the sea to a roaring, tearing monster. By this time the two oarsmen had let their oars go and turned all their attention to the business of staying in the boat. And the little box was bouncing around in a way that was alarming. Crawson sheathed his revolver—there was no danger from his servants just then—and knelt astride the til- ler, thus holding the boat on its course. Then he felt under the seat and found a short coil of rope. This he ran through the iron handles of the box and bound it to his shoulders. Often now, as the frail craft scurried up the. green wall of some gigantic billow, Crawson felt sure that it would pitch backward, bottom up, and be crushed by the great rolling mass of water immediately behind. Still the boat continued to climb up the sheer, green banks, its arms out- spread like some monstrous spider, and Crawson would lean to the bottom lest he fall out backward. Then, when the little shell would shoot over a curving ridge and cling there for a breathless second, Crawson was transported to raptures. In those few brief moments he would live ages at the pinnacle of life. And yet again, as the stinging salt spray whipped his face and the boat raced down at a speed which no engine could propel and the combing crests of the waves lapped out at him like hungry tongues, Crawson shouted in joy and defiance at the wild, Whirling elements about him. But through it all he never forgot to use his tiller. that he kept the stern of his boat to the _ wind—kept it from turning broadside and 2 = ey ahd Rescued With being swamped. It was a glorious battle, the pigmy man outwitting and overriding limitless power. So filled was Crawson’s mind with sen- sations that he had forgotten he was not alone until reminded_by the sight of his two servants diving overboard. He realized that only some imminent danger could have driven them to leave the boat and brave such a boiling tumult. So he began scanning the horizon as closely as possi- ble for an explanation of this sudden rash- ness. + * First he eyed the boat up and down fora leak, but there was none. There was no water in the bottom to speak of—merely what had splashed aboard in the form of spray; the little craft was riding the waves buoyantly. At that instant the boat was on the crest of a towering billow, and Craw- son was in a position to see much of the watery space about him, but the two ser- vants were not in sight. Doubtless they had been carried down. From the elevation of its position the little craft dived to the seemingly bottom- less depth of a watery chasm. Then on the crest of the next wave Crawson learned why his oarsmen had chosen to go over- board. Scarcely had he seen it when his boat, rushing down the opposite side of the great wave with a scud-driving speed, crashed upon the reef and shattered to splinters. The Moros had feared this more than the raging water. There was a swirl of water about Craw- son’s ears, an impression of tangled rafts of kindling wood, and then he found himself clinging to the reef, although the sharp coral cut his hands terribly. Instinctively, half-consciously, he freed one hand and reached up to his shoulder. The box was still there, intact. Taking conditions as they were, the thing of most and immediate importance was to find some sort of shelter from the tremen- dous weight of onrushing water. Unless he did this, Crawson knew that he would soon be beaten insensible. He dragged himself up and crawled slowly over the reef, holding grimly with hands and feet to the irregular surface to brace his body against the ever-surging water. Thus he worked his way slowly and painfully to the western edge of the reef. Once there, he crawled down the rough side and found a ledge that * afforded him a foothold. The ledge was. :