Adventure, July 1, 1928 — page 72: what you’re looking at

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

66 GEORGE ALLAN ENGLAND wouldn’t pay a nickel to see an earth- quake,” growled the captain, refilling his pipe, “‘you’d keep a decent fire in that rusty old stove o’ yours. Then it’d be better here. But never mind. How,” he asked cannily, “how about the c-a-s-h, cash?” maintops1 haul,’ the shipmaster remarked slowly, confidentially. “There’s some one else.” “Ts, eh? I never heard tell you’d been spliced.” “T haven’t. It’s my nephew.” “So?” “Yes. Man, dear! Ah, there’s a lad for you.” And Mellish nodded vigor- ously. “I love that lad, I do!” The captain’s small blue eyes widened. That old Jason Mellish had ever loved anybody but himself, or could love, was news for Bohannon. News of the most amazing. “My sister’s boy,” the old man mur- mured. “Only sister I ever had. She died when he was a baby. He’s twenty- six now. A fine figgerhead of a man, you can bet and risk it! If you ever saw an A-1, upstanding lad, it’s him. Knows his ropes with the best of em. No better cap’n ever took a ship out of New York and brought her back again. Got his papers in sail and steam, too. Clean, square, brave. Knows his work, that boy. Fine navigator. More than half a doctor, too. Smart!” “He don’t favor you much, then,” gibed Bohannon, squinting at the ship owner in the slowly fading, wintry light. “But avast talkin’ about him. What I want to know is, when do I get some rhino in my fist to bind this here bar- gain?” “A fine, clean lad,” mused the old man. “Tt’s the sorrow of my life he don’t— won’t—have anything to do with me.” “Won't, eh?. Ah, I think better of him for that, now!” “But he will, he will, when I’ve got a good fat bank account to show him. I aim to set him up for life.” [ss NOT for myself I need this *“Without,”” the captain sneered mali- ciously, “‘o’ course ever lettin’ him know where the money come from. And where is he now, this here precious nephy?”’ “Wandering. He’s a seafaring man, as I told you,” the ship owner went on, unpercipient of Bohannon’s mockery, “and a rare one, too. Good in both sail and steam. You won’t find many like him!’ Something of old Mellish’s vulturine expression had faded. Almost a certain softness shadowed his blinking eyes. Strange though it seemed that Jason Mellish could care for any man, the truth outstood that in his withered heart some queer and twisted niche sheltered love for this nephew of his. He leaned back and in fond reminiscence spoke softly. ““He’s a rare fine fellow, now I’m telling you!” “Yes, yes,” the captain indifferently as- sented. “But heave ahead to business! Speakin’ about the money, now—the twenty—” “Went deep water when he was only sixteen,” pursued old Jason, “and think of his having his master’s papers in both sail and steam! You don’t find many like that, his age. If he’d only cruise in and see his old uncle once in a month of Sundays—!” “Shows damn’ good judgment, he don’t!’ testily observed the captain, pouring himself another drink, a stiffish one. “Twenty thousand for the job, that’s what I want out o’ you. By the salt sea, yes, sir! In advance, too, every penny of it!” “T don’t know where he is now.’ The old ship owner doggedly a his thought. “Last T heard he was chief officer on a Blue Star freighter from Boston to Havre and—” “For the love 0’ God, Mellish, stow the gammin’ about that blessed nephy 0’ yours!” Bohannon interrupted, and rammed it down with a stiff oath. “I didn’t come here to yarn about your nephy. It’s the job I want to talk about. That, and the dinerol” comicloooks.com