Adventure Magazine Cover, April 1916 — page 19: what you’re looking at

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

Days of Morgan “T had hoped you might grant it me.” “Right willingly I would if it were within my power.” “Ts it, then, not within your power to carry me back to France with you, and the boy Barney, too? We came not willingly, Monsieur.”’ “That I know and deeply regret. But such is the system, and I must bring as safely as I may the cargo that they deliver to me. They would not permit me to take you back. I fear another future awaits you here.” “Could you not smuggle me back then, if T should hide on board? You see, Monsieur, I lay bare to you the secret I have nurtured, and throw myself upon your honor.” “I will not betray you.” “Tf I should hide myself aboard, would you protect me, Monsieur?” “T could not.” “Why?” “I carry back with me, Mademoiselle, thirty Englishmen, as prisoners, evil fel- lows and trouble-makers, who have refused to submit to the government his Majesty has established here in Tortuga. They have sought to seize the island from France.” “Englishmen!” cried Nancy. ‘Why, Monsieur, I, too . She stopped. Captain Jean looked at her narrowly. “Mademoiselle is English, too, hein!’’ She raised her hand, and placed her finger on her lips. ‘‘Sacré bleu! I will not betray you.” ‘“‘So you see, Captain Jean, I should be among friends.”’ “In irons, yes, Mademoiselle,” he laughed. ‘In irons!” ‘‘Mon dieu! Yes, prisoners—irons. What is there so strange about that combination? We are from Tortuga for Toulon, and were you among the English prisoners you would be clapped into the bagnio with them and sent thence to the galleys. You would do better in the Indies, Mademoiselle.”’ He led the way on deck, she following dejectedly, and so she saw Tortuga, its wooded crest and palm-strewn sands bathed in a flood of tropical sunlight which made her, coming thus suddenly into the light, blink with a speed that would have done credit to Pierre himself. Captain Jean pointed upward, where a fort and castle, with two guns, commanded the cove in which the Baptiste lay at an- 2 17 chor. _Perched upon the side of a heavily timbered and rocky mountain, it seemed in danger of slipping off into the sea. “In there,” he said briefly, giving her a knowing wink. “The Englishmen?” “Out, the English dogs! Pardon, Made- moiselle, I forget myself. ‘The English women, they are beautiful, charming. The English men—cutthroats!”’ And so they passed into the master’s cabin, or roundhouse. A géntleman arose as they entered, and came toward them, and Nancy, feeling his eyes upon her, low- ered her own, and for the first time upon that voyage, blushed. “She is here, Monsieur,”’ announced Cap- tain Jean briefly, and then, something in the girl’s drawn face and tired eyes giving him a boldness he had not assumed before, he added quickly, ‘‘She has been kidnaped, and comes not of her own will.” ‘““Kidnaped!”’ D’Ogeron scowled and shrugged his shoulders. ‘“‘’Tis what they all say.” He turned to Nancy, and the girl shrank beneath the admiration in his eyes. “You came as a servant, Mademoiselle,’ he said. ‘You will remain as a wife.” “Truly, I came not at all of my own wish, but was kidnaped, as Captain Jean has informed you.’ “Tush! ’Tis what they all say. Glad enough of a chance for a free voyage to the Indies, and begging off when once they land.” “T am not begging off.” Her eyes flashed with a look that General Sidney might have recognized and loved. “I am an English woman, ay, and proud of it, and not afraid to proclaim it. I claim my rights as an English woman, Monsieur. My country and yours are not at war.” “‘Below the tropic they are, as you will find, Mademoiselle.”’ ‘‘Even so, since when have Frenchmen fought women, Monsieur?” “You have me there,’ the Governor laughed. ‘Fight them? Mon dieu! No, no. We loye them, my friend.” ‘Monsieur chooses to be insulting.” “‘Come, my pretty! <A saucy jade, eh, Captain?” The honest sailor’s face dark- ened at this, and he pulled his beard a sav- age jerk that was like to tear it from his chin. ‘And of the quality, too, or I am no judge of a woman’s fine points. What is your name, Mademoiselle?” Comicbooks.com