Adventure, July 1, 1928 — page 73: what you’re looking at

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

THE ROARING HORN 67 old Jason, arousing as if from half a revery. “The job, that’s gram- matical. Well, then, you know the ship.” “The China Girl, ain’t she?” “Yes, that’s right. The China Girl. Last one I’ve got, now. Been a good one in her day, too.” “Devil of a long time ago her day was!” “Maybe, maybe. But she was good once. She’s a deepwaterman, all right. Wooden, Bath built three skys’l yarder, fourteen hundred tons. Used to carry passengers, too. Well fitted with cabins for ‘em, and—” “T know. I’ve seen her, a many and a many a time. Been aboard her, too, in Callao and Hong Kong. But she was parish rigged even then and dirtier ’n a hog. You always did go in for penny squeezin’,”” Bohannon affirmed, sucking at his pipe. “I won’t drill on that part of it, though. Question is, how is she now? Must be pretty rotten. By God- frey diamonds, yes!” “Pretty ripe, Pll admit. A trifle un- seaworthy,” the ship owner answered. “A trifle hogged, as I’ve said. Framing is weak. But she looks fairly good. Last survey, a fitter I, knew put the thing across and didn’t look too close. Masts and rigging a bit weathered, but—”’ “But she'll make the Horn, at least?” “Yes. She’s not so bad it’d raise any suspicions trying to send her round old Cape Stiff, to Valparaiso.” All the keen, buzzard greed and craftiness had returned to Jason’s baggy features as he sat there in the dimming light that filtered through the one window obscured by dust and cobwebs. He drummed with knuckly fingers on the litter of his desk. “I can get her clearance papers and fix up the insurance right enough. Get a cargo, too, of sorts.” “Mmmm! She’s always been a jinker, though. Ain’t she?” “Well, not so: good, for luck. That’s a fact.” “Dog luck is what she’s had!” the captain asserted. “Chronical black luck. Always leakin’, goin’ ashore, killin’ men. “s ' ES, YES, yes, to be sure,” assented She’s been loaded to the hatches with hoodoo, and no mistake. I reckon the only one proud of her is the devil—and you. Same;thing. Mind how she killed that man, young feller named Humason, in a blow off Hatteras? Winter of ninety- eight or nine?” “As I was saying,” the ship owner ignored the reminiscence, “there won't be any question—” “That was a hard case,” Bohannon continued. “He got killed on the lower foretops’] yard, as I recollect it. Chain sheet of the lower tops’] thrashed round, looped itself over him, tore the whole belly out o’ him, innards and all. Ship- mates got him down from aloft, but he went to glory in five minutes. Just been married, too, afore sailing. A damn’ bad take. Enough to jink any ship and make it hard to sign a crew!” “Don’t you worry about a crew,” Jason assured him, a bit grimly. “I'll get a crew, all right, if you’ll go captain.” “T’ve said I would, ain’t I? That is, when I see the color 0’ your cash! Where is this here precious hell wagon of yours anyhow?” “Tied up at Pier 7, Stapleton, Staten Island. Been there, grounding on her beef bones, ever since she came in last September from Burma, with jute. Ha’porth of tar and paint will fix her up enough to reach the Horn. After that—” : “Well, let her have it. Mustn’t spoil a ship for a ha’porth o’ paint and tar. But mind, I’m a hearty feeder!” And the captain vastly erupted smoke. “Even if you're forelayin’ to drownd all hands but me, don’t scamp the stores. Not for the cabin!” “I won’t. There'll be grub enough to last to the Horn, for you, anyhow,” Mellish assured him. ‘“Can’t afford to stir up suspicions by not providing every- thing just as if she was going all the way round to Valparaiso. I'll ’tend to that part, don’t you worry!” “Get your cargo, Mellish.” ‘Right. Iwill.” “And crew.” comnlicloooks.com