Adventure Magazine Cover, August 18, 1921 — page 107: what you’re looking at

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

The Doom Trail CHAPTER VII A TRUCE CAME to the surface, fighting for breath, my hands battling fruitlessly at the slimy side of the ship, which mums slid past as relentlessly as the passage of time. I tried to cry out, but the salt water choked me. Not a sound came from the decks above. The blackness was abso- lute, except for the mild gleam of a watch- lanthorn on the poop. Danger and the peril of death often have been my lot, but never in all my life— no, not even when the Keepers of the Trail had bound me to the torture-stake—have I experienced the abysmal fear which clutched my heart as I struggled to save myself from the chilling waters whose numbing embrace was throttling my vitality no less surely than the long arms which had cast me over- board. Death was only a brace of minutes away —not death from drowning, but death from the bitter cold that paralyzed my limbs and smote my heart. In the mad desperation of my fear I heaved myself waist-high out of the water, hands clutching and clawing for the support which reason must have denied me to expect. I was sinking beneath a smooth-running wave along the counter when my fingers came in contact with a dripping rope, which slipped through their grip and lashed me in the face. This time I did contrive to cry out, a brief, choked yell of exultation. My hands possessed themselves of it again, and I rove a loose knot in the end. Had I dared, I would have rested myself in this loop before beginning to attempt the climbing of the mossy wall of the ship’s side; but the coldness of the water forbade it. Only by the utmost power of will could I force myself to the necessary effort. A few moments’ delay, and I should be incapable of action. With teeth clinched I drew myself up- ward along the rope, thrusting forward with my feet for purchase against the side. Sometimes I slipped on the wet planks, and then I was put to it to hold my position. But after I withdrew my body from the water, what with the urgency of my effort and the stimulation of the exercise, some degree of my strength returned; and pres- ently I was able to pull myself up the rope, IOI hand over hand, until I reached a small projecting structure at the level! of the deck to which was fastened the starboard rigging of the mainmast. How I blessed the un- tidy seamanship of Captain Abbot, which would have aroused the wrath of any true sailor, no doubt! On this bit of a platform I rested mysclf, below the level of the bulwarks, one arm thrust round a tautened stay. And now for the first time I gave thought to my experi- ence. I suppose that at the most not more than five minutes had elapsed since I had been heaved overboard, and obviously no one had witnessed the incident, for the deck was as quiet and deserted as it had been when I was attacked. Who had done it? I accepted as a pri- mary fact the impossibility that it could have been one of the crew. I had speaking acquaintance with only two of them, Cap- tain Abbot, himself, and Mastcr Ringham, the second mate, a tactiturn Devon man, whose conversation consisted of curses, grunts and monosyllables. Neither could have any grudge against me. No, I must seek the assailant in the camp of my known enemies, and those immense, twining arms could belong only to the ape- like negro. With the realization, hot blood drummed in my ears. I scrambled over the bulwark in a flash, and crouched down upon the deck to survey the situation. It was one against three—no, four, I reflected bitterly; for I made no doubt the girl wouldarray herself against me. I must have some weapon. I looked around me, noting that the watch were all ensconced upon the forecastle or the poop. Then I remembered that ranged around the bottoms of the masts were long handbars of wood, iron-tipped, which were used in making fast the sail-ropes. I ran across to the mainmast and tore one from its slot. Nobody had yet seen me in the pitch darkness, and I stole across the deck to the door which gave entrance to the poop, my water-scaked shoes quite soundless. The door was ajar, and I opened it very care- fully, listening to the murmur of voices in the main cabin. There was no light in the passage which led to the main cabin from the foot of the shallow stairs that descended from the deck level; but the main cabin itself was brilliantly lighted by several lanthorns. Murray and de Veulle were sitting on the CO cEloOOlkKS CO 5}