Adventure, January 20, 1922 — page 13: what you’re looking at

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

Tides of Hate and plugged sides, testified to the good-will of whoever it was that gave him the rough handling; but a little knot of sullen men, and the huddled figure of a young girl, testified also that John Cook had emerged victor. “What d’ye make of yonder blaze?’ Cook demanded of the helmsman, a cross- eyed black nearly seven feet in height, a new recruit from the last capture. “Dat’s a fire, cappen,”’ grinned the negro. me ’s mirth!” roared Cook. “Should I think it a lump of ice, black mule? Is it a bonfire, or what? Have ye no eyes?”’ “Sure dat’s a bonfire, sar. A —— big one, an’ he look to dese yer eyes lak a mighty——”’ The man’s slow, halting speech was cut short abruptly. A shower of sparks leaped aloft among the trees; a column of red flame followed; then across the placid sea rumbled the terrific explosion of the powder maga- zine. Trees and bushes, hillocks and tot- tering houses, all were revealed vividly against the blackened sky as if thrown upon a back scene in silhouette. | And among the glare were many black specks, some of which might by no great stretch of imagination be likened to men’s bodies. Then hot and blackened débris be- gan to fall about the vessel, and the pirate danced his decks in capering rage. “Out boats!” he bawled, and cursed luridly. “Out boats! All that’ll float. Man ’em with every oar that’ll pull. Take the prisoners too, Carr, ye lousy, slow dog,” he yelled to his first mate in frenzy as the distant fire blazed up anew and showed him the houses of the settlement in red relief. “Hurry with the boats!” he yelled. “Rouse up hawsers and tow me in quickly. If aught is amiss in the island and I am too late to mend it, ye’ll taste the mess [’ll prepare for ye a hundred years after ye’re dead!’ Urged by officers no less anxious regarding their island retreat, the pirate crew tugged at their oars and towed the schooner slowly toward shore. The prisoners labored too, and soft-handed passengers and equally soft-handed captain bent unaccustomed backs under the ceaseless curses and blows of Carr. On the schooner’s deck Cook stood by the helm, impatient of the creeping progress made; and the girl, left alone by the im- pressment of her male companions in mis- Il fortune, sat huddled on the wheel-gratings, trembling with terror, hoping that she might be allowed to remain unnoticed. From time to time the gigantic black glanced over his shoulder at her, and across his broad, ugly face at such times passed a look of something so close to tenderness as to transfigure him. And toward Cook’s - back his crooked eyes shot glances not so much of fear as of appraisal. When the schooner had been towed for half an hour, and the shore still lay vague in distance, yet sharply outlined in the one place by the raging fire, the pirate stepped to the wheel, flung the black away savagely, and took the helm himself. “Into a boat with you!” he growled. ‘‘Put the weight of that great carcass to an oar, and see if I may not yet be in time.” All but inaudible, yet heard by the negro, a little sobbing cry of dismay came from the cowering girl on the grating. With the sharpened wit of desperation the negro dared to question the pirate’s command, and to suggest an alternative. “Ef yo’ in a hurry, cappen, I kin row yo’ ashore in one ob dem boats myself in quat- ter o’ hour. Take we fo’ hours yit befo’ we tow dis Schooner to anchor, sar, dat’s a fack.” | “By the Great Horn Spoon, you’re almost human!” exclaimed the pirate with a keen look at the expressionless black. ‘‘That’s a real good notion, by thunder! “Here, Carr!” he bawled over the bows. “Drop back with your boat and kick half o’ your lazy dogs back on deck. Ill row ashore.” Then, turning aft, he laid a heavy hand on the shoulder of the trembling girl. “Up you get, girl,” he said with uncouth softness of tone. “You’re going ashore, my pretty, and if you’re good you shall be queen ©’ the pirates.” “Yd rather be dead!” the girl cried, furiously flinging aside his hand. “Vou may easily be that, too, my pigeon, if you cross John Cook,” the pirate laughed grimly. “But into the boat with you, quick. Here, Goliath, take her and drop her into the boat.” The negro grinned at the new name, and went to the girl. She flashed a look of scorn at him, as if to remind him that he was a traitor to his own captain, and a recent traitor too. But he persisted, and swung her upon his COnmMICLOOOkKS com: