Adventure Magazine Cover — page 95: what you’re looking at

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

Shanghai Fried Chicken Deck grabbed him by the arm, then, thrust- ing the pack of green coupons into the Chinaman’s outstretched hand, he pulled the Bos’ cautiously into the corridor after him. The jailer followed them and closed the cell door with a slam that caused the deck engineer to turn on him with an angry, “Can that racket!” Then he added in a softer tone, “ Where— where go?” A motion of his head toward the closed end of the long passage was the Chinaman’s only answer as he shuffled on with the two seamen creeping along the dark wall in his wake. Once the bosun, pursuing too closely, stepped on Deck’s heel and fell sprawling spiderlike on the stone floor. He choked down a curse, and got up hastily, shame- faced under a furious backward glance from the engineer. Finally, when the Chinaman stopped they waited expectantly, holding their breath, while he fumbled at the latch of the door that sealed the passage. Then, like Saint Peter admitting righteous souls _ to Heaven, he swung the door open, utter- ing a brief, ‘He’, in he’.” ‘You son of a ——,”’ Deck made a vicious clutch at the Chinaman, who jumped through the doorway just in time to evade Before the two men was an office of the jail with several Chinese policemen startled into rigidity standing about. With a roar the deck engineer dashed at the nearest,” yelling, “‘Knock —— out of ’em, Bos’! We'll get out o’ this hole. Get out o’ the way you ——!” - But two short policemef, had laid hold of the bosun, and four more of the Chinamen succeeded in downing the deck engineer after his first ferocious rush. At this mo- ment of defeat one of the higher officials of the jail, an educated man who understood English, hurried into the room. His sharp question in Chinese brought forth a volley of jabbered explanation from the proud captors of the Irishmen. F severely at the deck engineer and the bosun he demanded, “Can you not wait that ‘much to walk out, without you must try to keel all dees men? Firs’ you mus’ write de name, den you may go, an’ no use to fight. Come!”’ Deck’s face wore a look of foolish bewil- derment. He turned toward the Bos’ who 93 was grinning like a full moon and shaking his head. “Deck, me bye,” he began with at- tempted solemnity as he caught the other’s eye, ‘‘Oi told ye ye wur too hasty a man fur comfort. Will ye never learn? Look it yurself—payin’ a dirty heathen to open the cell whin that’s what he come fur; an’ thin tryin’ to fight yur way out through a crowd that was all anxious to have us go. Q-o-0-0!” Deck made no reply, and after their money had been scrupulously returned to them, and they-had left the jail in a decorous manner, he remained unusually silent while they hastened along through the twilight over the rough cobbles of the narrow, jumbled streets on their way to the ship. @ IT WAS ‘six o’clock and quite dark when they tramped down the = Wharf where the Faralon lay. Evi- dently she was about ready to cast off. The forra’d booms had been lowered and on the after deck they could hear the first mate shouting, “Lower away there, easy; all together now, easy!” On the corner of the bridge above the dock was tied a large cargo light throwing a brilliant glare over the ladder which stood against the Faralon’s side. As the two seamen reached the foot of the ladder Deck opened his mouth for the first time since they had left the jail. ‘Bos’, looka that!” he said ina subdued voice, pointing to where on the side of the ship, picked out by the cargo light, a notice was chalked in wobbly, ten inch letters. “Ship sales at 7 O’clock tonite.” After reading it carefully the bosun re- marked between his teeth: ‘She does, hey? Not if we ’ve figgered right, and Oi think we have.” ‘“‘But,—— it!” ejaculated Hae k. “Suppose he has got some money. The Bos’ interrupted him. “Thur ain’t a skipper yet thot ever had - any money whin he was just goin’ to sail, I should think ye’d been to sea long enough to foind that out. But now, Deck, listen to me—” his voice grew serious—“will ye please lash yur shirt on tight and kape it lashed on while we’re talkin’ to the old man.” “T will,” replied the deck engineer with firmness. ‘“‘Now, let’s go.” As nobody was ’midships when they com Ebooks (E@) 4 7 < ¥ - eb? bik is Ut, Bact Rey Nee sigs tee) Tee Yh ar PMA eA PWR YY 4h) ti “ gl PT a tol > .! Pte eae ihe ia y, toe, rales \ ef. oh pe ee he Veh) Os¥e Bish) fn MAD Ba Rat 2) Met tt Raby re a bk 4 A SP Gila al ie et We mS Fate orl fe ve} athe A yet fern eT i Ast ‘ ac Ea? oe POTN tage A ME APT REE Di Bak Soke Wty EDS Wk mee TAN t= ET) NOR A) COR On AE TE rN A ok rai, ty ee ES Oey 8 ey M4 wae” ‘ at \ Pe fig? weit ty aT A th ey a . etait ied Gly Uae Th ghee meee: aw