Adventure Magazine Cover — page 144: what you’re looking at

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

138 surge of the sea. A terrific clang resounded somewhere more distant, and Micky darted out, yelling to the rest— “Come an wid yez, boys, the dom tank’s {?? foul o’ the fo’mast! VAGUELY he knew that at his #4 heels trooped the watch below. He was the only man of the watch on deck not up when the tank went adrift. His watchmates could be heard, scarcely seen, in many places, all yelling advice, none daring to slip down and muzzle the murderous iron monster. Somewhere close at hand, as he crouched to get the.true situation, he heard the wheezing breath of a comrade, but he was too intent upon his job to turn to identify faces. He saw the bulk of the tank, tangled in a maze of involved coils of sea- swept ropes, and he noticed that it had broken deeply into the fore-fife-rail and much of the fore-rigging hung in jeopardy. The ship plunged with a long, slow sweep into a rolling sea that had passed under her and was leaving her, and her head hung low too long. The tank took charge again, left the mast, and bounded like a live thing straight at Mick. He dodged, yelling defiance, and trod heavily upeS the Mar- quis at his heels. “Gig t’ outa here!’ he jalicd. ES no place fer th’ loikes av yez, Marquis!” Then the tank crashed against the break of the t’gallant forecastle, bounced like a rubber ball, and shot aft to the mast again as the ship rose from her plunge. A shrill, defiant yell rose above the up- roar of wind and sea and thundering tank. At the instant that Micky seized a rope- end, meaning to fling a turn around the runaway and hold it against the fife-rail long enough to enable his mates to mazz!e it thoroughly, the Marquis darted forward, his puny hands out-flung, and tried to do without a rope what Micky purposed doing with one. His sudden rush thwarted Micky’s plan, and did no good of itself. ~ “Howly Moses!” roared Micky furi- ously. “F’r th’ love av Hiven somebody put the little man under cover till we git thot tank lashed. Sure he’ll murther us all!” In darting across the deck the Marquis crossed the rope in Micky’s hands, and now, while the tank was teetering in prepa- Adventure ration for another terrific charge, the rope tripped him and he fell fair in the course of the iron demon. Far from doing as they were told, the men did as most men would do in the circumstances: they darted in all directions out of the way when the tank came clanging down upon them again. And right in its path the Marquis. was scrambling for a foothold on the slippery deck, one foot entangled in Micky’s rope. ‘Save us!’ breathed Micky, and sprang surefooted as a cat across the Marquis and hurled himself shoulder first at the tank. Man and iron rolled down to the bulwarks in a heap, and the tank halted there for a moment, stopped by a human wedge in the shape ‘of the right arm and breast of the Irishman. “Catch a turrn wid it now!” screamed Micky. ‘‘Jump, ye wooden men! D’yez t’ink Oi’m made 0’ wood tooP”’ He lost consciousness and relaxed, but not before the tank was secured. They carried him aft and laid him in the half- deck where the Old Man could attend to him, then trooped forward to take out their anger for his mishap on the Marquis. The tail end of the big blow lashed suffi- ciently hard to keep all hands busy until their initial rage against the Marquis had died down. Micky was snug and well cared for; the ship came out of the hurly- burly as a sound, well-found, well-handled ship should do, intact in all except a few paltry rope-ends that made no difference to her as a ship. But with the coming of fine days, though still booming with dry wind, the galley fire was kept going, the water tanks could be opened, the forecastle crowd were fed and dry-sleeping. As ordered by Providence when sailors were first created, men full fed and warmly slept sought for any outlet for rising spirits, and as in nature bound to do they picked on the Marquis joyfully, for his protector, Micky Donlin, was no longer working as a protector. They forgot even to skin Skimps, the boy, though Big Bill had said often enough the: the first chance he got he’d cut the provoking youngster’s throat and heave him into the Doctor’s soup pot. And, to the silent amazement of both watches, the Marquis took all the ragging coming his way without once kicking a man in the face. He didn’t attempt to use his hands. 19) COnnichoolks (C@