Adventure Magazine Cover — page 14: what you’re looking at

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

8 Adventure little piggish eyes, bristled by whitish lashes, could blaze with intense ferocity upon occasion. ‘This, backed by a brawny body, muscles of steel, flesh like solid rub- ber, made the ex-gunner a man of mark among his fellows. : As yet the questions of rank were unde- termined. No mate had been appointed - to take Avary’s original position; the second mate had gone with the captain. While it was the general custom with those who went on the account for the quarter- master to take the helm on going into action, it was felt that Horton should re- tain his position as gunner-in-chief. This the gunner of The Duke naturally resented. Sides were taken, factions began to form, discipline grew slack. “You’ve got to fetch ’em up with a round turn,” grumbled Horton to Avary. He had the right to enter the cabin at will, and at Avary’s request had taken over the mate’s room. “You’ve got to drive ’em,” he went on. “Look you, that kind of cattle need au- thority and a firm hand. You'll have to drive ’em sooner or later or they'll be driving you. | “Before, let a man go slow to the order or give you a black look, and you could trice him up in the riggin’ and give him a round dozen with the cat and be to him. If he didn’t like it give him a dozen more, shove him in irons and let him be hanged for mutiny when you got home. You could shoot a man for disobedience or even swing him at the yardarm, and nothing said. But you had the backing of the law. You had the courts and the Admiralty behind you. “Now what? The rest would be mighty slow about seeing a comrade get the lash or being put in irons. The only backing you’ve got is the fact that you can shoot the sun and they can’t. That’sall. And they wouldn’t think of that if they got worked up right. “Don’t you give ’em too much latitude, Avary. Don’t give ’em too much rum, either. Dirive’em. Keep ’em stiffened up. More work and less time for talk, say I.” “You’re saying too much yourself,” said Avary sourly. Horton leaned across the table, thrusting out his dog-face aggressively. “Am I? You’re a fool if you don’t listen. Half the time the watch don’t turn out on time or only in half force. You give them too much rope, and they’re more like to use it to hang you than themselves. When Shipton answered you back just now you should have knocked him down with a handspike. What did you do? Walked away. “T’m a plain talker, Avary, and —— me if I don’t think you afraid of him! You had your pistol; you should have slugged him with the butt. “The men are talking and wondering what sort of a skipper we’ll have when it comes to leading boarders. Shipton’s swag- gering round boasting. he’s a better man than you are. By night you’ll be a joke aboard this ship. ‘“‘We’re sailing with our necks in a halter, every man Jack of us, Avary, and I for one am not going to tighten up that halter by staying aboard a ship without a commander. That’s flat and you can lay to it!” Avary’s face was pale and his eyes were deadly. He had taken the best of the captain’s clothes and his own and was dressed in laced coat, smallclothes, a cocked hat and ruffles. One hand fumbled with the lace in his bosom, his fingers clutching a pistol-butt. But his grip was clammy with sweat. While Horton talked Avary silently cursed himself for his own limitations, his hesitations. He had a vivid imagination, whereas Horton reacted only to his emotions. And Avary knew the quarter- master for the better man while he hated him. Half a dozen times he repressed the impulse to snatch out the weapon and kill Horton as he sat there with his ugly face and too familiar manners, calling his com- mander—to all intents and purposes—a coward. But he knew what would be likely to follow—open mutiny—his own death. He knew his own inhibitions.- Physically he shrank from any test of prowess. Chal- lenge flared his imagination with a vision of himself worsted, maimed, gushing blood. Yet he could dream of himself as a dashing, valiant leader until an issue came which left him sweating, goose-fleshed, averse to any encounter. He flattered himself that his will could lash his body into subjection. He was well- formed, his muscles were strong enough, his senses perfect; he was active, able to give a good account of himself. But when it came COMICLOOokKs (E@)