Adventure, January 20, 1922 — page 58: what you’re looking at

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

36 He had three ships 0’ burthen himself, and we agreed he should keep command until we fell in wi you again. But we never did, but for a sight o’ ye off the Capes o’ Brazil. How ye slipped the bulldog’s more than I can guess. But slip him ye did, and set him after us when we thought we’d weath- ered him snug and handsome. “And that was the beginnin’ of our black ill luck. First the king’s whelps overhauled and took Swan’s two slower ships, and still she hung on our heels. In the bitter seas about the Falklands we slipped him again, and once we got sight o’ you, Davies, from our masthead. ’Tis higher than yours by ten feet. “We got drove off, as mayhap ye were; but we made th’ Virgins, seeing nothin’ o’ you nor Swan then. Swan had agreed to fire a gun every watch if he gained the Straits before we; and I was to do the like. “In a plaguy fog we entered the Gut o’ the Narrows, and the lookout spied another ship comin’ down on us through the thick o’t. "Twasn’t to be seen who she was; but we heard a gun fired ahead, inside, and then we knew ’twas Swan in the Straits and could be no other than Ed Davies sailin’ along wi’ us in the fog.” , Cook glared murderously when Davies leaped to his feet with a ringing laugh. Even the snaky eyes of the Frenchman held amusement when the ghastly joke broke upon him. “So you pounded Swan, and thought "twas me, hey?” laughed Davies. “We sunk him!” snarled Cook. ‘‘My rascals had boiled all th’ voyage, waitin’ to be clapped alongside o’ ye for desartin’ us. Swan must ha’ thought we was you, too, for our first shot was answered in good earnest, and there ‘we fought, in fog thick as gunsmoke, until t’ other ship crashed into the cliffs and started firin’ minute guns for help. “Help! We had none for you, Davies! So we lost Swan, and here am I, one instid 0’ a fleet.” %q COOK glared around as if he ex- fri pected to hear some dreadful fate “ decreed for him. Instead he en- countered only smiles, and L’Escuyler waved a quieting hand toward him, bidding him drink and forget his troubles. “Eet is nozzing,” he remarked carelessly. “Wiz many sheeps zere would be many Adventure shares. Three fine sheeps like dese, wiz brave capitans like we, and brave men be- low will be se sufficient numbaire to go forward wiz, and zere shall be ze less share an’ ze greater reward to each. Ees it, not? “Now we shall make plan. Ees it to be San Juan del Sur, wiz Rivas after, zen on to ze lake? Or ees it first Realejo and Leon, zen ze lake?” “Plague! Ha’n’t we agreed on them last two cities?” growled Cook, not yet cooled off. “That was with an army,’ Davies put in quietly. ‘“Realejo is a sizable city for our force, John. Besides, San Juan’s a good harbor within better marching journey o’ the lake. Ain’t it the lake we want access to most? “Let’s assault San Juan first, and hold it. Rivas won’t be so tough a nut to crack, and we have a line o’ supply to the edge o’ the lake. To th’ nor’ard ’tis two hundred mile from the coast to the place where the spirits snatched up that gold—” Davies grinned at the Frenchman, who lost his suavity for a moment- to glower back— “while from San Juan ’tis but seventy. Did ye but know the jungle as L’Escuyler and I know it, John, you’d want no urging which course to lay, lad. : “Set th’ course between-ye then,” re- torted Cook. “’T will make no differ what I urge when ye ha’ all stewed up before- hand.” “Zat ees so,’ purred the Frenchman, looking more than ever like a fat, lazy serpent as he slumped in his great chair and regarded Cook unwinkingly. ‘“Zis only does eet make difference, zat zere ees no room for ze man who ees not wiz us in everyt’ing. We are all for each an’ each for all, yes, so zere shall be no quarrel after we decide. We sail for ze port decide on now. Are we togezzer all?” “Vm wi ye,” said Davies, rising and stretching with apparent indifference. “Decide it between ye. I’m going aboard. We'll keep in company, and ye can hail me which port ’tis agreed on.” “What’s th’ pother about!” cried Cook, uneasy at the tense atmosphere that seemed to have filled the cabin suddenly. ‘O’ course ’m wi’ ye! What else did I make such a scurvy voyage for? San Juan ’tis, and be to ye, Davies! Y’ ever was a blunderin’ bird o’ ill omen.” “Zen San Juan eet is, mates,” smiled the Frenchman, uncoiling his long length out of » Go TOO AMUG SS (C@