Adventure, January 20, 1922 — page 5: what you’re looking at

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

Tides? Hate elie Author of ‘ THOUSAND green parrots chat- tered in the nodding palms of Aves Island; half a thousand men, drunk with black rum far beyond the limit of hilarity, into the mood which breeds black mischief, cursed parrots and palms impartially, cursed the golden fruit of orange and lime-trees, cursed the silver sands and the blue Caribbean, with a whole-souled heartiness born of the hurri- cane barely past, which had strewn stout pirate ships along the harbor shores. Left leaderless when John Cook departed to seek Swan, his crony, the fierce brother- hood of Aves found themselves powerless to cope with misfortune when the storm took them in the midst of a red orgy. And now, when the gale was all but spent, and but half a dozen craft of many different rigs were left them intact, the strong spirit which should have aroused them to strenu- ous effort was lacking. Rum-casks were broached where smithy fires should have been lighted; men who should have bawled the windlass song at salving-tackles howled lurid obscenities into the blue skies in drunken ribaldry. ““Guzzling swine!” The epithet came with the crisp staccato ‘Tides of Hate,’ copyright, 1921, by A. E. Dingle. Copyright, 1922, by The Ridgway Company, in the United States and Great Britain. by eat ES Nwa complele Novel MYM ‘Mickey’s Marquis,” “Doc,” of a pistol-shot from among the bundled root stems of anorgan-palm. The roaringruffians at the nearest rum-cask scowled toward the spot, and grimy paws sought cutlas-hilts. “Swine! Swine!” screamed a great cocka- too with vast rustling of wings, and the pirates’ anger turned to mirth. “°Tis the ‘Singing Schoolmaster’ with his parrot!” they roared. “Fetch ’em. Make "em sing!” Two staggering mulattos crashed into the thicket out of which the palms sprang, and presently the sounds of high-pitched protest were heard, accompanied by the sharper sounds of smart blows delivered with a cane. Cries of mock fear resounded in the gruff voices of the drunken messen- gers, and soon the crashing thicket yielded up a knot of struggling bodies, above which squawked and rustled a red-crested cockatoo bedraggled of feather but belligerent of eye. “Ho, my bold bookworm!’ The hail was bellowed forth from the waiting gang about the great cask. “A song from you, lad, with a parrot chorus. ‘Tune yer pipes, lad. Here. Wet yer dry whistle.” A pirate held out a silver goblet holding a pint of pungent rum. The captive thrust it aside with such a gesture of disgust as to All rights reserved. 3 CORNICLOOOLK< (E@)