Adventure, January 20, 1922 — page 51: what you’re looking at

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

Tides of Hate ‘Twill be yet another lesson to the dogs. By the time I raise the Frenchman’s top- sails ’l] have a crew who’ll do as I tell ’em and never dare to question. Patience.”’ “Patience! » Seems to me y’ ask a woundy deal o’ patience from all hands,” retorted Steve. “Y’ expect too much o’ common men as ha’ none 0’ yer own stoutness 0’ guts, Ed Davies. Some o’ that harshness ye raised yer reputation upon might well serve ye better than preaching ever patience.” ‘What maggot’s gnawing at ye now?” cried Davies, suddenly aware that his chief lieutenant had some deeper motive for his grumble than appeared outwardly. ‘Has any man merited harshness greater than all are suffering?” “Aye, and the very rogue who bullied his mates into scoffing up their meat the day we raised the Virgin. The men curse, but he has ’em tamed, by Satan! Never did I see bold sea rovers so cowed. It’s this bit- ter cold, more than empty bellies. Men used to warm seas and soft Trade winds ain’t able to stomach this sort o’ stuff. Ain’t it drove Goliath under blankets?” “Goliath was bred in Africa’s scorching sands. Leavehim out o’ theargument. He'll still be worth a dozen o’ the rest when the sun shinesagain. What’s the trouble below?” “The strips o’ green hide.. I portioned all out, no man getting more than another, not even the wench. And the men say their rations grow less afore they get ’em back from the cook-pots.” “They should watch the galley-boys.” “They do; and none save the arch rogue 0’ them all dare say aught against the lads. "Tis— .There, hark!” From the open main hatchway, rising high above the squealing of timbers and creaking of straining spars, came yells, oaths, and the clash of steel. Ed Davies sprang from the poop, reached the hatch in bounding leaps, and landed in the dark, fetid ’tweendecks with flaming eyes. His appearance caused no commotion, for the whole of the crew below were crouch- ing, beastlike, around a savage knife combat between the wizened little pirate and Badoes, the Jamaican. With one long stride he stepped in between the combat- ants, and as coolly as if he were stopping -a boyish game of fisticuffs seized both men by the knife-hand. “Belay!” he ordered with cold ferocity. “What means this? Speak up.” 4 49 A score of hoarse voices shouted at once. Davies raised his own voice above the rest. “One o’ ye speak. Stow this parrot racket, the rest o’ ye. Quick, unless ye want me to show ye again who commands.” “The dog’s stolen food, screamed the wizened little man. “He lies!’ roared Badoes. “He does not!’ came the denial from a dark corner, whence presently stumbled a haggard seaman, bearing in his hands some scraps of raw leather. “See, ’tis from Badoes’ own hammock.” Suddenly fearful, Badoes twisted free and crouched low, menacing those about him with his steel. Letting go of the other man, Davies advanced slowly but resist- lessly, his eyes fixed full upon Badoes, and with an amazing turn of speed enwrapped the man in his own long arms and held him. “Take his knife,” ordered the captain. ‘And lash the rogue with small cord. Now speak up, and let’s settle this. If the man has stolen, he dies.” “What? Dies for a bit o’ leather?” jeered Badoes in desperate scorn. ‘‘Who will be executioner o’ such a decree, Ed Davies? None o’ these bold lads, I'll warrant ye.”’ “Speak up,” said Davies, ignoring the man’s outburst. “He stole into the galley and cut a bit from every man’s strip,” accused the little man. | . “Dat’s what he done, sar, ’cos I seen him,” whimpered one of the galley negroes, “Lies! Black lies!’ yelled the culprit. “Didn’t I find them bits in his ham- mock?” came back his first accuser. ‘“Ain’t we all short-rationed enough as ’tis, and all along of his own holler for a feast, stid 0’ goin’ slow ontil we made into the Straits?” “What d’ye say, Badoes?” snapped Davies. “Saye” jeered the thief impudently. “What d’ye want me to say? S’pose I did snip a bit o’ leather, ain’t it every man f’r hisself when rations is scarce? Why ain’t ye took the ship in for provisionin’ afore this, hey2 ’Tis fault o’ yours, Ed Davies, as we have naught but greenhide to eat, and none 0’ the lads below decks here believes as you and Carr and the nigger and the wench is eatin’ such muck.” “Ha’ ye done?” “Done? Blarst yer soul, what more? D’ye think ye can tie me up this way and COmiclboooks (Co)