Adventure, December 3, 1920 — page 62: what you’re looking at

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

52 Sondheim’s education in that regard had gone a full step further: the stench, while distasteful, he accepted as a distinct improvement on that of bilge-water as inhaled from a forecastle berth. This he was engaged in setting forth without nicety of discrimination as to words; while the shipping agent balanced himself on his heels and watched Arnie’s blue eyes turn to steel. “It’s a —— of a life—and seventeen years finding it out!’ Arnie concluded. : He swallowed the amber stuff in the glass, made a face and shivered. He disliked whisky; nobody would believe it—but then he did not care whether they believed it or not. The con- coction in sufficient quantity gave him peace, peace from the endless void of lonesomeness that life had turned out to be. As a boy staring out at the fairy mystery of the deep he would never have believed that he should have to turn his back upon it in very despair of satisfying the hunger that had sent him out upon it. nearer comprehending that hunger. It seemed strange that other sea-faring men were not both- ered with this yearning that he could not de- scribe. He knew only that the whisky brought temporary satisfaction, just as the few days of being second mate on the Snowbird had brought it—and being with Lelona could bring it. But Lelona would not have him so long as he shipped before the mast, and never again would he com- mand his watch; that much had been settled on the last voyage. Wherefore, he consigned ship- ping agents and captain to the devil. The agent heard him out placidly, blinking a little and studying with some interest the para- doxical sunny countenance turned toward him, the innocent blue eyes, the rugged worldliness of Arnie’s set mouth. He thought he knew Arnie. All agents thought they knew Arnie. jake had reason to know him, for he spent his money at Jake’s. By that same token, the tawdry women with the drooping eyelids who infested the place thought they knew him also. And yet the agent was beginning to wonder if this was really the Arnie Sondheim he knew, sit- ting here condemning the sea. “Twenty dollars a month slapping round in a leaky fo’c’s’] bunk, skinning your hide on the stays, breaking your back on the halyards, and Cap’n Miant A bare-shouldered woman, lifelessly gay, passed close behind him and rumpled his light, curly head of*hair. “Little son-of-a-sea-cook!” he broke off, grinning. “| wouldn’t blame Captain Miant, son,” ob- served the agent, taking heart. ‘“‘You were steering the ship, and you ripped out her yards. You had it coming.” “It’s all right,” Arnie allowed. “Only he » won’t do it again. He smashed me, when I’ve For that matter, he was no - Adventure seen him take grog himself to keep going. It” was my stomach; I hadn*t_been eating. I know, their navigation laws backwards, can shoot the sun——”’ “Well, my man, you’ll not get a mate’s berth on this coast.” The agent’s impatience at length asserted itself. ‘‘If that’s what you’re looking for—you’ll look!” “No, 1 won’t. I’ve chewed my last bully bill. T’m through.” The agent on the point of departing thrust his face very near Arnie’s nose. In a hard whisper he vociferated: : ““A fine bucko like you, with a head better than most masters on the Pacific! You’d amount to something. You’d command your own vessel. I never saw the like of you for real smartness—nor for rum-swigging, either!” he added and strode out of the door. Arnie scowled after him. He scowled be- cause the agent told’ the truth, and only the truth did he bother about. Arnie understood— quite. He possessed the qualifications for a ship’s cabin; he knew the sea and its moods; he knew ships from stem to gudgeon; he knew men—thé men who went down to the sea in ships. And what else did he know? Nothing! Aboard ship he was at home; ashore he was lost. But suppose he gave up drink, the whisky he detested but that remained his one friend. What ship’s master would give him a chance? And Lelona had no intention of waiting forever. If she could but understand! He grasped the bottle and poured out some of the liquor. At sight of it in the glass something within him revolted. His infernal memory was at it again: impossible to forget a single fact of his experience! Lhe seventeen years rising clear as fresh water to show him what he was and what he might have been! Might have been if—what? He did not know. But he had dreams, vague things; andy masthand should never have dreams. One of those dreams was Lelona, the glorious Spanish girl in San Carlos who had grown to be a woman. He heard her voice, low and tuneful: “vou come again—be capitdm nex’ tam’ —Capitén Arrrnie—maybe——” Captain! He captain! The only way he could:ever command a ship would be to buy one—at twenty dollars a month! -—— the sea! ——— the bottle! One sweep of his hand, and a rivulet of tawny liquor ran across the bare table and over on to the floor. Instinctively he thrust out his glass to catch the precious flow, the bitter, stinging flow. Then with a curse he flung the glass after the dripping spirits and was out of his chairand making for the street. He had nowhere to go. His feet bore him toward the water-front; they knew no other course ashore. EONICLOOO From the wharf to Jake’s; from (C@)