Adventure, January 20, 1922 — page 47: what you’re looking at

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

Tides of Hate “Take the helm!” rasped Davies, facing around and fixing Steve with a coldly bitter glance. Steve obeyed, as many another good man had done. Davies stepped to the cabin companionway and called down for Goliath. The black appeared in a minute, rubbing open his eyes, but otherwise as free from slumberous appearances as if he had never been abruptly awakened. His ebon face glowed as he took in the crowd milling about the waist. The two parties had separated as the main fight grew intense, and their own petty scraps were shelved in the greater interest of the other. And what Davies was expecting was hap- pening right there beneath his eyes. “T feared it,” he muttered, and he heard the big negro’s breath whistling in eagerness. “Dem lads is sp’ilin’ fo’ somethin’, tap- pen,” said Goliath intensely. ‘Lemme go down an’ Z “Stay here. See the mutinous whelps sidling over as one or t’ other o’ the knifers turns the tide o’ fight? I’ve waited for a sign. And glad we can be it’s come in fine weather instead o’ down in the storms and cold o’ Magellan.” ‘“‘Ain’t ye goin’ to do nothin’, cappen?”’ gasped Goliath with a hopeless stare and a slumping of shoulders. “Dem lads’ll all be gittin’ out o’ hand ef ye don’t show dem whar dey stands.” ‘Stopper that Davies gently. Bristol Jack had leaped upon his foe like a cat, and his knife sank deep into the wellspring of life amid the-roaring huzzas and down-flung headgear of four-score frenzied rufhMans. Now there was a general movement from the side of the fallen man to that of Bristol Jack. The victor grinned crookedly; his own hurts were such that he needed rest sorely, and he sagged down upon the hatch while his cronies flocked to bring him hookpots filled with stout black rum. ‘Soon we shall determine once and for all who are with us and who against,” nodded Davies grimly. He turned the falcon on its swivel until the muzzle was to hand. “Draw me the charge,” he told Goliath. The negro drew out the wad, and two pounds of pistol balls poured into his big cupped hands. “Now the inner wad.” That came out, and the black powder long tongue,” smiled 45 began to dribble from the muzzle of the gun. “That’s good. Now stuff back the wad loosely, and load in the bullets again. Wad all loosely, and then do likewise with the falcon on t’ other ladder head and stand by wi’a match. Ye shall see what the dogs have murmured for all the voyage. They are complaining that Ed Davies got’s re- putation on mouth alone. Watch!”’ Lighting a gun-match in the shelter of the companionway, Davies sent Nell to the helm and called Carr to his side. It was as well that all concerned should see how he dealt with rebellion when rebels became too plentiful and their uprisings too frequent. “This will settle our business as a bolus settles a seasick stomach, Steve. Now look ye. D’ye see any man among yonder rabble who ye’d guarantee wi’ yer own life to be for me?” “Me?” grunted Carr contemptuously. ““Wasn’t every man Jack o’ the scum ready an’ willin’ to see me left on Aves for the bulldog to snap up? Ain’t they all ready at this minute to back that black-avised Bristol swab? If ye want to know their idees, ye have only to wait till Jack catches breath. Y’d ought to have dropped two or three boatloads more overboard when ye dumped Kestral.” “Ror ye are: Steve. nodding full agreement. He glanced at Goliath. The negro stood like a massive ebony statue at his deck- raking swivel gun, blowing on the match with gentle respirations as placidly as he might blow on his hot grog to cool it. Davies suddenly uttered a shout, and the crowd clustering about Bristol Jack stood up- right and stared aft, scowling blackly. “Ye’ve had yer sport, lads, now I’m going to show ye some o’ my sort,” Davies yelled. They stared.at him uneasily; for gone was his calm, even smile; gone his air of in- difference, nonchalance, carelessness. His face was set and terrible; his tall figure quivered, and the strong right hand that rested on the rail was white with the tense- ness of his grip. Only the white gleam of his even teeth had the semblance of a smile, and it was frightful. His trumpet tones rang out again. “TI know ye purpose demanding proof o me that my venture beats John Cook’s for booty. I hear—the ship hums with it— complaint that Ed Davies is but a boaster, smiled Davies, wi’out guts to back his boast. I’ve brought — COmiclbooolks (C@