Adventure, July 1, 1928 — page 94: what you’re looking at

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

88 GEORGE ALLAN ENGLAND into the main cabin, where they laid the man on the table, the girl on the lounge at the port side. For. the moment, all Bohannon’s thought was directed to get- ting once more under way. “Fill your main tops’ again, Mr. Furlong,” he commanded. “Let her fall off on her course!” “Yes, sir,” Leadspitter answered. “But between you an’ me an’ the capstan, sir—” and he showed his crooked teeth— “we're into quite a rookus with these here passengers. Damn’ ’f we want to pick up any more boats. Let ’em go to hell, or wherever, says I!” “Right,” agreed the Old Man. “What we don’t see, we can’t be blamed for not escuin’. But get her on her course. Sooner the better, now!” Under Leadspitter’s orders the China Girl presently took her course again. Leadspitter summoned a few hands to the quarter deck. “Come on, bear a hand! Pass a lashin’ round this boat,” he commanded, indi- cating the one just picked up, “and let her stay where she is. Then get forrard, all o’ you swabs. Look alive, or I'll learn you how!” OHANNON, turning to inspect the boat, saw the suitcase lying in the stern sheets. “Hello, what the devil’s this?” And he lifted it out. Through all the fume of his displeasure, there was that which now gleamed speculatively in his pale blue eye. That eye diminished to a point of wonder. “They got away with some o’ their dunnage, all right.” “That there’s a jim-dandy of a piece 0’ baggage, Cap’n,” judged Leadspitter. “Tt’s the genuine cowhide. Liable to be some good stuff inside, there, one kind another. An’ look at them letters on it, will you, sir? Gold letters, s*help my cod!” “T. L. R.,” read Bohannon. “Mmmm! Tony folks, eh, what? “More hell! They'll be wantin’ us to put in some- wheres and set ’em ashore!” He pondered a silent moment. Frag- mentary thoughts crossed his tortuous brain. Might this not after all jump with his plans? His spade ended fingers scratched his cranium as he tried to stimu- late thought. How colorable an excuse might this not give him for making port somewhere—port, where he himself could quit the doomed ship! Not too bad, this notion. And moreover, rich folk like these, what might they not pay for such service? Far from bad! Matters might, after all, be in excellent train for Captain Bohannon! For all that, though, the captain still let his anger burn. Anger was to Bohan- non a luxury he never missed freely indulging. But Abey Buzzard inter- rupted his thoughts by coming on deck to report: “We got ’em stowed, sir. Any time you wants to put 7em toa survey, sir, they’re ready.” “Here, stewart, take this bag below,” the captain ordered. “I'll go down and see what’s what. I'll send Mr. Mayes up to take charge.” This, to Leadspitter. “Then you come below, yourself. We got a few matters to decide on now!” ATTERS, indeed. Problems of the most urgent! The man stretched out on the cabin table, they saw without need of more than half an eye, was already dying. Burns such as he had received could end in only one way. “This old cuss is nigh hand to hove down on his beam ends,” Leadspitter commented. ‘“He’s took some jeroosly awful damage, sir!” As Abey loosened the bandages, with sundry jerks and quavers of his head, the steward being a nervous man, the three saw that the stranger’s race was run. ‘“He’s all-fired nigh dead, sir, that’s sure as shootin’. Look a’ them arms an’ that face. Burned to a crisp!” “Yes, and his chist, too,” the captain answered, scrutinizing the man under the gleam through the skylight. “Looks ’s if he’d been spattered with burnin’ oil, or somethin’ like. Gas, mebbe. He’s comnlicloooks.com