Adventure, July 1, 1928 — page 81: what you’re looking at

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

THE ROARING HORN 75 ain’t no private yachtin’ cruise, by Judas Priest! You look like a seasoned shell, tome. I don’t want no trouble with you when there’s so many bloody land crab vermin I got to bust my knuckles on. Get forrard, you, and let’s have no rookus!” “No rookus at all, sir. No disrespect meant, at all. Only—’” and his eyes met Leadspitter’s without blenching—“‘T hold a master’s license in sail and steam. So you see—” “TI don’t see nothin’ but that you’re answerin’ me back. And that I won’t have, not from the President himself! I ain’t goin’ to tell you again, not with words. You get forrard now, or—” “Mr. Furlong, there!” T SOUND of Captain Bohannon’s raucous voice the mate turned. He glowered up at the break of the poop, where now the captain stood, pipe in mouth and hands on rail. “Yes, sir?” “Send that man aft, here!’ ; Sour mooded, Leadspitter made a surly gesture. He ordered— “Come aft here, you!” Answering ‘no word, but very grim of face, the shanghaied one climbed the port ladder, and like a sturdy son of Anak stood before the Old Man. Leadspitter ’ followed him up. “You want to see me, eh?”’ the captain demanded round his pipestem. His pale blue eyes evinced something of the qual- ity of a cat with a cornered mouse. “Well, what say?” “Yes, sir.” ; “What about? About your ratin’ as an officer? Oh, I heard what you said!’ Bohannon’s hard slitted eyes revealed cold fires. “I think you’re still drunk, by Godfrey diamonds—swizzled and talkin’ randoms. By the look o’ you, you don’t know whether the jib halyards is in the locker or on the mainm’st!” “TL beg pardon, sir, but I’m sober, and—” “That don’t matter a damn’s odds, nohow. Drunk or sober, it’s all one to me. By the cut o’ your jib you're a lobscouser, and that’s how you’re goin’ to rate here. Lemme tell you one thing, and that ain’t two. You might rate as Admiral o’ the Swiss Horse Marines when you're to home. But you ain’t within hailin’ distance of home now. You're at sea, signed on all right and proper, and if you value a whole skin and bones, you'll walk chalks aboard this ship!’ “Yes, sir. You’re master here. may I ask a question, sir?” “Make it short!’ “What ship is this, sir, and where bound?” “Well, burn me! I ain’t in the habit of bein’ cross hackled by no sons o’ bucks 0’ forem’st hands—God stiffen ’em!—but I’m feelin’ extra good natured today, so T'll tell you. Valparaiso, that’s our jolly little old port o’ destination, and this here mahogany fitted, nickel plated hell wagon I’m commandin’ is the China Girl!” “The what?” “Sir!” “The what, sir?” “You heard me the first time. The China Girl, of New York and Tophet.” “God above!” Something spun in the shanghaied man’s brain. He caught the poop rail. ‘“‘My uncle’s ship!” “Your uncle’s grandmother! That’s enough out o’ you, now. Go on forrard and sober up!” “It’s true, I tell you! My name’s Tyson—Roderick J. Tyson! And my uncle, he’s Jason Mellish, owner of—”’ “Yes, I know!” the captain retorted with a brow of evil portent. “I had a feller once was Napoleon. Another time —but no matter. There here ain’t my arguin’ day. Your uncle’s ship, that’s a good un!’ Bohannon taunted, while Leadspitter listened with a sneering grin. “By the tail o’ Jonah’s whale, a proper good un it is, so!” “But, I tell you—”’ “Ah, I don’t believe you’re even an A. B.! Come on now, let’s see if you are, and sober. What’s aft on the port side, forrard on the starboard side, and inside o’ both sides of a ship?” “T’m not answering riddles now, though But comlicloooks.com