Adventure, February 1917 — page 50: what you’re looking at

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

48 lamps of gold, and to count the days and weeks of her husband’s absence, and to ask herself, with uncertainty that was all but certain, whether it was not time, now, to be anxious. _ And fear, and love, and time, together Bose that it was. “The launch! The launch!” was the cry that beat about in her mind, as a moth beats - about in an imprisoning glass. If the launch had been in order, one could have sent it down to Samarai; she could have had a government officer back in four days. One could have done anything. ~ But the launch was unavailable. She had - gone down to look at it, and a certain amount of knowledge, learned from driving a motor-car, had assured her that the Black Snake would not move again until repaired _ by a competent mechanic. What to do? The question clipped her stranglingly, as she went down the track to the house. That*far, faint glimpse of blue beyond the edge of Silence Bay—what might be happening there, seventy miles away? Slade had allowed that it would be “time to worry” if he did not come back in a month. It was five weeks and a day now. “Sometimes they don’t come back. ” The thought began its restless ticking again. “Sometimes they don’t come back.” If Captain Page would only get better. But when he did, he would have to be taken down to the hospital in Samarai and left there. It was doubtful whether he had had black-water fever or not—it might have been merely a very bad attack of malaria —but whatever it was, there was no doubt that it had been complicated i in certain dan- gerous ways by his drinking habits. If the captain were to sail his boat much longer over the seas of this earth, it was clear that a must be patched up to ‘do it, EDITH came back to the house with a certain resolution, of which she was hardly conscious herself, hardening in her mind. She found the cap- tain conscious, though very weak. Harold, beside him, was eating hot pancakes from his fingers, with incredible speed. “Dad couldn’t worry down more than one, so I kept them from spoiling,’ he re- marked. “Have some?” he asked Murua with a certain effort. “Thank you, but I do not believe in mak- Adventure ’ ing a god of your belly at eleven o’clock in the morning,”’ was Murua’s reply. “Murua, I want to ask you something,” said Edith, breaking in on the threatened controversy. ‘From what you know of the country, don’t you think my husband is too long away? You know, he meant to be about a fortnight, and it’s over five weeks.”’ The reply came not from Murua, but from the bed where the captain lay. ‘“Where?” “Where is he gone to? Jamieson Island, to get some boys in the interior.” ‘“‘They’re dashed swabs in Jamieson Is- land,” said the weak voice from the bed. “T’ve a boy from Jamieson Island on board; he can hand, reef, and steer, but he’s the two ends and bight of a dashed brute.” The dim idea was becoming clearer, but it was not quite shaped yet. “Does he speak English?” “Some. I could drink a lime drink.” Harold, whose heart was always respon- sive to gastronomic needs, went off to get fresh citrons. “T’ll make you a bonzer one, dad,” he said in the doorway: ‘Pineapple and things. I’m glad you haven’t winked out this time, dad. And a tablespoon of whisky in it.’ “A table glass,” said the capes weakly but firmly. Harold vanished, singing sweetly from “Trovatore”— Rest thee, my mother, I will watch o’er thee, Rest may restore sweet peace to thy heart. “One of the very worst things about Har- old,” observed Murua, “is that he has no sense of humor, which makes you quite cer- tain that he is “fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils.’” Edith hardly heard her. shaping themselves. not be well for some time; could not, when he was’ better, undertake the fatigue of a search party. The schooner, with the pres- ent succession of calms and head winds, might take weeks getting to Samarai. Jamieson Island was at least in sight, and the wind was fair for it.. They were shaping. “T want to see that boy of yours,’ she said. “Boy?” said the captain. Then, after a moment’s silence, with a roar that made Things were Captain Page would Edith jump: ‘Breakers ahead! Down helm! We'll be on the reef.” MIELOCWOIKS. COMA (C@)