Adventure Magazine Cover — page 73: what you’re looking at

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

The Gold Ship They crouched to his order after one quick look and then remained to gaze as they huddled on the bottom boards. Slowly finding her way into the open Caribbean, clearing the cape with the last of the wind, there came a stately ship that the sunset gilded from truck to waterline. The canvas was dyed saffron in the glow. Golden drops fell from the prow that rose flashing from golden foam. Her gleaming sides threw off radiance that blazed on the protruding muzzles of cannon and winked from the scrolled carvings of her high, decorated poop. The very rigging seemed to be spun from thread of gold as she came lunging majestically along. At every roll of the rouraled hull from the brine the high light of her dripping curves shifted in a swift dazzle of light as brilliant as the flare from an opening fur- nace. She might have been plated with the precious metal from keel to vane. A ray of light breaking through a gap in the ridge, held her fairly in its widening beam and dusted her with gold, transmuting her with the touch of Midas to a ship of magic, her hull in an aureate sea, her pyramided canvas aswim in ambient, amber-tinted air. The men gazed with awe and _ then, kindled by Pierre’s triumphant cry of iden- tification, of appropriation, they shouted in chorus— “The ship of gold! The ship of gold!” “Ours for the taking, lads. There lie beds for your sore bones tonight, coverlets of silk, velvet raiment. A ruff for your neck, Michel, instead of a round of bloody beef packed from the hunt. Rare wines, rare victuals, gold to clink 5 “There may be gold, my captain,” said the man who rowed next to bow, an ancient worthy, bald of pate and gray of sprouting whisker, “but, from the look of things, there’s iron a-plenty to protect it. Look at those guns and see the royal standard. Yon’s a galleon of the flofa, a war-ship, no merchant. There is a dog can bite. Should they have the humor to sink us they could do it ten times before dark with those grinning culverin. And she'll carry from seventy to a hundred men.” “Call it odds of three to one, then,” said Pierre. Now, with his gold ship in full sight, he neither sensed nor brooked op- position and swept it aside like so much rubbish. “If you are too old to fight, my friend, if you have lost stomach for close ) 63 work, you may stay in the boat—aye— and keep it for your share, for, once out of it, we'll not return. ‘The men aboard of the galleon have to be paid. The more of them, the more money we'll find aboard. Once master of her, we'll raid the seas with those same culverin until we bite into something that satisfies us. If the dons aboard see us they take us for fishermen, unworthy notice. We'll wait ’till after dark, then row to her and board her. Any one of us is worth six men surprized and that’s the way we'll tackle her. ‘“‘There’s no moon, the sky’s thickening enough with clouds to hide most of the stars and there’s scant wind to drive them off or give the galleon more than steerage way. Why, ’tis made for us! A dash, a bold face, maybe a thrust or two and a shot and ’tis done with.” They cheered at that, not loudly, for fear of being heard aboard the galleon. The ship of gold was fading to a dark bulk. As she veered, lanterns showed on her poop and lights from the quarter windows. The sea ran dark, touched with crimson gleams. In the light of the dying embers of the sunset Pierre read the faces of his men, turned toward him, set with present purpose and courage. He had fanned the spark to a flame. “Once we board, we stay,” he to!d them. “To falter is to fail. The Spanish are not easy on prisoners. Better to die. Are you committed to the venture? Are you game- cocks or partridges?” ° The vision of the golden ship was still with them. Superstition helped to crystal- lize their courage. They believed this was the “happy hour.” They gave him a deep- - throated assent. “Good! Then Alec Sanderson shall use hes chirurgeon’s tools to good purpose. With luck it may be the only use for them. See you, Alec, you shall be the last to leave this apology of a canoe. Simon made me promise to return it when we were through with it. We'll pay him for it instead. You could put your foot through the rotten planks if you trod carelessly. But Alec shail scuttle us a hole or so and we'll sink her. We'll fight with the sea back of us. Name of a dog, we'll make them think we are water devils!” Sanderson leaned aft from the bow, lead- ing the second cheer. COIN DOOKS Co inn