Adventure, July 1, 1928 — page 84: what you’re looking at

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

78 GEORGE ALLAN ENGLAND into pitch smeared shoes, there he stood and looked about him, yearning for a capful of wind. “Hell of a situation, this is!’ Tyson vented his thought. “‘Becalmed on this old wagon, when every hour’s one hour more I don’t get even up with Bohannon and his pretty pair of bucko mates!” Then he relapsed into a smoldering silence, turned aft and made way toward the galley. Somewhat bruised about the neck though he was, and with a faint greenish purple patch reminiscent of an extensive black eye, Roderick Tyson still made a fine figure of aman. He breathed largely and looked steadily. Though his body was held captive, the heart in him was scathless. Gait and bearing showed none of the shuffle or cringe that some of the other poor wretches manifested. Fight, enough and plenty, still remained in Tyson. T and with something like a smile listened to Chubbock’s song—a mournful ditty about shipwreck and Southern Seas and girls that were left be- hind. “What do you know about girls, old tindercrack?” ,demanded Tyson. “Hello, Roddy!’ exclaimed the New- foundlander. “Dat you, b’y?” “Who else? And how do the girls fit, with you?” © “Gals fits wid evveryt’ing in dis here world,” the cook affirmed, smearing a face brown and wrinkled as an old sickle pear with a cloth that did him duty for a sweat rag, dish towel and all. On his right hand he had only a thumb and little finger, which he used nipper fashion like a crab. “Ever since dem dere Garden of Eden days, if you can find anythin’ as stands cl’ar of gals’ tarmentin’, it’s a quare thing. I’ve had many a hard fuss wid women, I have, man dear!’ “You look it!” laughed Tyson. “Don’t I, eh? Many a hard smack V’ve had wid the judies. Best way to keep a loose leg is go furrin’, an’ nivver come back. *“I'was a woman as knocked THE galley door Tyson paused out most o’ my teeth, b’y, and anodder as lost me me fingers. You ain’t nivver yeard dat yarn? But I ain’t goin’ to spin it today!” Chubbock grinned gummily. “Dat °d take too lang, just now when I got a little spurt o’ singin’ on me. An’ you don’t need no advice ‘lang o’ petti- coats! Tl take my davy you had pliny truck an’ dealin’s wid ’em yourself!’’ “Blamed little!” answered Tyson, while Chubbock sat down in the galley door on an onion crate so crossed and wired that it resembled an ancient Roman chair. . “Women don’t mix very well with salt water.” “Right fer you! I nivver seen a woman at sea, yet, as didn’t bring on a wonnerful rookus, one way or anodder!”’ The cook nodded gravely while Tyson’ produced a pipe and lighted up. Tyson had got this pipe and some tobacco, witha few shoddy clothes, from the slop chest at extortionate prices, to be stopped out of his pay. “A martal cold smack is what women allus brings. Knotty wedder dey fetches, an’ no coddin’ you. Women an’ parsons, whistlin’ fer a breeze, tearin’ a flag, an’ a dead carpse in de cargo—dem’s ahl tings I'd nivver go a-nigh!”’ “Go on, tune up again,” smiled Tyson. “T’d rather hear you sing than philoso- phize. You’rea rotten philosopher, but as a singer I’ve heard worse. What about your song?” “Well, layve me see,”’.Chubbock began. But all at once vibrated a ery— “Sail, ho!” Dane who, happening to look up from his work at the sheerpole, had seen something afar and thus reported it, “Where away?’ sounded Bohannon’s voice from aft. “Bout t’ree p’ints on de stabboard bow, sir. Dat look like a smoke, sir.” “Smoke, eh?’ Then, after a pause in which the Old Man located the smudge for himself, “Allright!? Andsilence fell again. “Twas de like o’ dis, about my song,” began Chubbock; but Tyson turned away, i WAS Tondern, the red bearded comicbooks.com