Adventure, November 1915 — page 159: what you’re looking at

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

= t —— - . ") — rs é 4 ~~ Ee Gold at Sea Every drop of blood that pulsed so hotly through my veins bespoke my fierce longing. I loved the woman. It had come to me that instant I had lingered in the ward-room door and cast a backward glance over-my shoulder, to see “Mary in Dacy’s arms, and her face lifted to his. It had pervaded my consciousness with all the sudden force of a lightning shock, and I had reeled dizzily below, over- come by a sickening sense of disaster. It is a strange and terrifying experience to have your soul shaken by a woman. To lie with your fists clenched, fighting futilely to stem the tide-rise of love, while your blood riots, and sweet and bitter unbidden thoughts race through your mind. I loved her; yet who and what was she I loved? “She is pure and noble; your presumption is sacrilege!” my heart cried. And the jealous devil in my brain mocked: “She is Dacy’s sweetheart, his mistress, perhaps. She is an evil thing in a beautiful dress.” And then a wild, unreasoning rage would sweep over me. I could feel Dacy’s throat between my fingers, and his life ebbing in my tightening grasp. I could hear the woman’s pleas, and I gloated upon the pain in her voice. The gust would pass by and leave me panting. Again would begin the duel be- tween brain and heart. Ever the heart won, and the longing mastered me—fierce, pas- sionate desire to hold her in my arms, to fondle her, to dominate and force her to acknowledge my mastery, to bow before her whims, and render her abject service. So passed the night. At four o’clock I went on watch again, heavy-eyed and un- refreshed. The fight was- over; my heart was master. But if I were at peace with myself, it was. a bitter peace; for Mary Morrison’s strange intimacy with Dacy seemed to indicate how _ her heart pointed. And though I surren- dered to the all-pervading sentiment, I could not still the mocking of my mind. “What do you know of her, or she of you?” I told myself savagely. “You have barely spoken to her a few times. You are acting like a silly fool!” Reflections which were harshly true, but which could not quiet the tumult within me. But later in the morning, when I had been relieved and was hastening to my room, there occurred that which for the nonce 157 banished amatorial thoughts from my mind. An inquisition was proceeding in the ward-room, and I paused in the doorway to observe the scene. Grouped at the head of the table were Dacy, Farley and Podd, and confronting them was Dooin’s submis- sive figure andthe burly form of the negro, Turk. I directed my gaze towards Podd, a most miserable Podd. His appearance shocked me. Dooin’s prophecy that the unfortunate drug fiend’s features would be changed by a night of abstinence was more than fulfilled. Podd’s face was like marble for pallor. The muscles of his lips twitched. Through’ his bulging eyes stared a soul in torment. His nervous fingers writhed continuously up and down and across his coat front. He was following the conversation with a tragic intensity. “His room was entered and the box taken,’’ Dacy was saying. “Strike me blind, if’t were Hi, Guv- narh,” said Dooin. “Ah ain’t got no use foh dat kinda jag,” was Turk’s comment. “Ah likes mah lil drink, but Ah nevah takes no dope.” “‘Well, these men are doubtless telling the truth,”’ said Dacy to Farley. “If his dope was really stolen, it is probably in the fore- castle now. Some of those fools forward may use the stuff.” 3 “No, there are no dope users forward,” answered Farley. “TI can tell from a man’s appearance if he uses drugs, and Podd is the only dope fiend upon the ship.” “How about McNeil?” said Dacy, notic- ing me standing in the doorway. ‘But, of course; it is needless to interrogate him.” ‘Yes, if he saw the stuff he wouldn’t know what it was,” replied Farley, casting an uncordial look towards me. “We searched McNeil’s room without success. We have searched everywhere without success. Podd must have hidden the box himself and for- _ gotten the place.”’ Podd opened his mouth in a despairing wail. | ‘No, no, Captain! It has-been stolen from me. Oh, my God! I must find it!” “Do you think he might do such a thing?” inquired Dacy of Farley, ignoring Podd’s interjection. “Yes, that would be a typical trick for a | drug fiend,” said Farley. “They do strange things when they are coked up. It would be like him to hide the stuff upon himself. MICLOOOKS (E@) (EO)