Adventure Magazine Cover — page 96: what you’re looking at

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

90 “O.K.” came back the response this time. The wireless operator of the Namaycush was back, and with him was Clarke. “Skipper says the directions at right angles to our beam .are south-southwest and north-northeast,” he reported. “We've got them if our luck holds!” exclaimed Jerry. “Have the cutters keep abreast, fifty yards apart, and run on a slow bell, Mr. Clarke. And be sure to steam exactly north-northeast!” “But—” began Clarke. Jerry shook his head. “Not now,” he stated firmly. to do this in my own way.” And Clarke saw he would have to be content with that. “T want FOR an hour they steamed—Nam- se 2ycush to starboard—maintaining = their formation by keeping close enough to mark each other’s lights in the blanket of fog. And yet the oily heave of the ground-swell was broken by nothing save their own wakes. Suddenly a star gleamed through the murk, dead ahead of the Namaycush. The cutter slowed toa stop, while the star rapidly grew from third to first magnitude. The Namaycush veered more to starboard, the other two following suit. The wall of fog ahead grew more opaque as a great form took shape. They could hear the ripple of a cutwater. And out of the pall a long jib-boom was suddenly poked. The Sy/ph! Without lights save at her foretruck, she was feeling her way stealthily through the night, relying on the sheltering mist to cloak her movements. As if a command had been spoken, the cutters in unison backed clear of her path, then steamed ahead—Grayling and Stur- geon to port and Namaycush still to star- board—closing in on her. ‘““Fleave to!” shouted Clarke at the dark- ened bridge of the yacht. The command was echoed by the skip- pers of the cutters on the other side. A bell clanged inside of her, and she slowed to a stop. Jerry, Clarke and Reynolds boarded her at her starboard quarter, while the others were clambering up the opposite side. ‘“‘Where’s Burke?” demanded Clarke of a sailor who met them. Adventure “Not aboard,” replied the man uneasily, looking forward. ‘‘Who are you? What d’ye want?” Without replying Clarke started forward. From that direction a pulley suddenly © creaked; then there was a snapping sound, a yell and a splash. Clarke quickened his pace to a run. Reynolds and Jerry fol- lowed. Suspended from a davit by a single piece of tackle swung a short, flat-bottomed craft of wide beam with an oversized gas engine. A frayed end of rope which dan- gled from the other davit explained what had happened. “He’s gone!’ explained an ashen-faced deck-hand who stood at the davit falls, peering over the side. “Who's gone?” demanded Clarke. “Burke,” was the reply. “Must have struck his head on the engine when the line broke. Served him right anyway, him, for tryin’ to run out and leave us to face it alone!”’ The water below the dangling speed- boat showed no sign of life. “__’s_ bells!’ exclaimed Jerry to Clarke. “T’d forgotten. You two take a look at the Chinks; I’ve got to stop their operator from tipping off the gang on shore.” And he dashed for the wireless room. But before he reached there he heard the hum of the motor-generator and the muffled voice of the singing spark. The Sylph’s operator, a sallow little man, snapped off the power and leaned back in his chair as Jerry burst in the door. The little man grinned without fear. “Too late,’ he remarked evenly. ‘Got a cigaret?”’ THEY were reporting to Com- missioner Dobson, and doing it painstakingly, so that he would understand. “We have the Sylpk with forty-six coolies and two hundred five-tael tins of opium which we have turned over to the customs men,’”’ summed up Clarke. “Burke is dead, and he’ll probably always remain a mystery, as none of the prisoners seemed to know much about him. Probably the smuggling syndicate owned the yacht and merely financed him so that he could pose as wealthy and give them an excuse for running it back and forth between here and the border. Gomichbooks (C@