Adventure Magazine Cover, February 3, 1921 — page 171: what you’re looking at

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

The World’s Opinion Yet with the sight of Arnie standing there the unhappy faces broadened mightily; one or two shuffled unsteadily to their feet; a voice rose— ‘°Ere we be, sir, an’ ’spectin’ we'll be ‘avin’ the last on it arter a bit.” “That’s the talk,” Arnie agreed. ‘No giving up now, boys!’ One of them laughed hoarsely. “We'd be ready tuh give up w’en you be. Say the word. Ef she won’t be makin’ et, yuh won’t mind tellin’ us, will yuh?”’ “Not a bit. | She’s got ’er spunk up. Rides handsomely. Are you dry?” “Them for’ard berths leaks consid’able. ’"Ammicks don’t leak a-tall. Mought ye say w’ereabouts we lay, sir? It’ll give us some ’at tuh argy.”’ “Off the Horn,” Arnie responded without hesitation. He had- taken no reading since the first day and needed none. Waking or sleeping, something within him registered the make or the drifting. Lowering skies, confining tempests of waters had no influence over this uncanny feeling for distance and posi- tion. He knew their latitude was fifty- seven degrees and a few minutes; in some manner he knew it. That meant that they were being blown southward at an alarming rate and into terrible seas. A general exclamation went up mingled with violent cursing. He stood braced against the ladder and showed a lace as ironic and weary as theirs. “Well,” mouthed some one, ‘don’t go ylattin’ ut the cap’n like ’e done ut.” “By , no! Leave it tuh ’im, ’n’ ye’ll 49 go fur wrong.” “Y’ain’t meanin’ tuh say y’ain’t trustin’ , im, is yuh? Tl Varn yuh——” “Easy there, Ed! We be all of a mind on thet score* Beggin’ yer pardon, sir, this here’s the first time ever I laid store by « capting. We ain’t nowise worried. Fire er wind, hey, maties? All one tuh him.” “Hark tuh George now, cap’n; ’e’s tellin’ yuh somethin’ new.” : This was given with a laugh that the whole ship’s company joined. They plainly expected Arnie to join, too, but he only stared at them. And as he stared, his eyes began to blink and an unwarned color to rise from the back of his neck. It sobered them, that stare; they stared back and then tried to look elsewhere. 165 “Reckon yer plumb tuckered,” ventured one near by. ‘‘’Ere’s my tot, sir.” “No, thanks,’’ said Arnie. He found himself not nearly so tired as he : had been. He was buoyed up by an emo- tion of unreality. Crude men speaking with crude voices lifted him bodily out of his disgust and fatigue. He had known whisky to do this, when there was plenty of it and he could overcome the first bitter taste of it. Here there was no first bitterness. It was more like a moment with Lelona. All at once the suspicion came to him that they were guying him. Otherwise why should they talk this way? In seven- teen years he had never heard a ship’s company praise an officer. Indeed, it was not logical; they had nothing to gain by it. “That’s the way; keep your spirits up,” he laughed out. The din of banging seas and the other frenzied voices of the storm beat back his words. The wind had a rasping edge—like that of a slack violin-string. He was angry with himself rather than with them for this sudden emotion of blessed unreality. ‘“‘We aim to,” he was answered. ‘“‘Sailin’ back’ards is sure funny.” “But Ill tell you this,” Arnie rushed on as he made to ascend the ladder. “It don’t matter who’s captain now. She'll either keep her head up or she won’t.”’ The sailor who had offered his drink grinned and squinted into the tin cup. “Reckon so, sir. Jes’ the same we likes good comp’ny tuh go swimmin’ in. ’Ere’s lookin’ at ye, sir! An’ many of ’em!” MORE and more lost, finding him- self for the first time unable to cope with a question that other men found easy to understand, Arnie swung on to the deck again. And in an instant he re- alized how searching had grown the wind, how charged with cold. A mid-Winter sea they had entered; the snow had ceased to fall, but the spray upon the life-line was freezing to his touch. A wild fling of the bows to larboard hurled a staggering sea over him; he regained his feet, gasping. Growing every minute colder, and the night setting in. And should the wind change—— But the wind would not change. It would blow and blow, and the decks would crack soon, if they had not already done so, and down upon the heaps and heaps of ° hides in the hold would drip—drip—drip S CORMICLOO© (C@