Adventure Magazine Cover — page 41: what you’re looking at

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

40 take a beating and still fight always found a sympathizer in Saunders; and when on his way to the boat on the Macassar coast he . stumbled upon a street-fight in which a slim, lemon-tinted native of variegated parentage was going down under many blouses, squealing like a coward but fight- ing back like a hero, the burly skipper took a hand in his defense. A couple of swipes of his big fists scattered the mob; and when he picked up a fallen attacker and hurled him bodily among his fellows like a ball at alley-pins the rumpus was over. “Here, quit that foolery, buddy!” he laughed when the yellow youth fawned at his knees like a big dog. “Stand up, lad; I'll see you clear.” “T come wid you, sar,”’ the man panted, glaring around in obvious terror. “T stay here I git kul, sar.’ “But you can t come with me, sonny. I’m bound to sea.’ . “Orright. I- go sea too.” Taking no rebuff, the little native elected himself body-servant to the skipper, and by accepting the more or less unwelcome serv- ice Red Saunders was the gainer. Tod Carter made his protest, and repeated it as already set forth, but Parchelly, as the youth called himself, was a member of the Black Pearl’s crew when the coast of Celebes became a gray blur merging into the night mists astern. “He's all right, Carter; don’t worry,” the skipper smiled when the mate relieved him for supper and was still grumbling about the liberty accorded to Parchelly. Tod Carter had been right-hand man and close companion to Saunders in innumer- able exploits all through the Far East, the Pacific and the East African seaboard for many years, and a deep affection existed between the men only to be understood by those who have lived a similar life and have been lucky enough to meet up with one sterling soul in harmony with their own. Except for sheer physical strength the two men were entirely dissimilar; and even in strength Saunders was too greatly Carter’s master for them ever to regard each other with jealousy. In other ways they differed so widely that it was undoubtedly the sheer contrast which welded them so closely to- gether in comradeship. Where the skipper refused to see trouble until he bumped into it, Carter smelled it as far off as he could sniff bad weather; where Adventure the mate doubted, Saunders radiated as- surance; if terrific odds suddenly rolled up against them— Yes, that was one other point where they agreed; both would face odds, and both would fight the harder as the odds multiplied; and each had yet to see the other let go a hold when he had it. Tod Carter would grumble and complain right up to the point of conflict, and go into and through a scrap still grumbling, but fighting like a Highlander after prayers. Saunders rarely permitted a foe to wipe the smile from his handsome face; in fact, one man who had the nerve to face him a second time had suddenly gone panicky at seeing the skipper’s smile brighten and broaden, and had run away without shame, fearful for his life. That yarn still goes around cer- tain ports in Northern Queensland. The smile of Red Saunders was a thing to be noticed. It could mean a friendship as wide and deep as the ocean, or it might simply mean that a presumptuous antago- nist was about to peek in through the Pearly Gates, even if he did not actually enter. ‘Don’t lose sleep over Parchelly,” the skipper told Carter. ‘The lad’s grateful to me for saving his yellow skin. He’s a queer mixture; most of these Timor chaps are, with the Dutch and Portuguese strains ” “Ho, and he’s a Timor scut, is he?” grunted Carter, peering hard into the skip- per’s laughing face. ‘‘And, if I may ask, is there any connection between findin’ this here. yaller-belly and us goin’ to Timor, where he belongs? Not as it’s any o’ my business, 0’ course.”’ ‘‘There’s a connection surely, Carter. I’d never have given Timor a thought if Parchelly hadn’t. told me in gratitude that there are rich pickings to be had by the first trader to see the old chief of ‘“‘And off you go like a country slob tryin’ to find the little pea under the walnut-shells, to git us into another o’ them woolly messes wl a swarm Oo’ niggers, just on a yaller swab’s say-so! Maybe I’m gettin’ too old, cap’n. I don’t see no fun in such Flyin’ Dutchman cruises no more. I better quit soon’s we get back to some four-square port.” Saunders laughed softly and let his mate goon. He knew well enough that when old Tod Carter quit there would remain no un- exploited fields within the Black Pearl’s meee either that, or Tod Carter would be dead. CoOMmicooolkKSnee)