Adventure Magazine Cover, April 1916 — page 65: what you’re looking at

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

Days of Morgan “Ho for Maracaibo!”’ shouted Jim Rim- ble, carried away with enthusiasm, and throwing his bits of metal into the air in his excitement. ‘“‘Ho for Maracaibo!” shouted the others in a roaring chorus. Emotional fellows, simple as children for all their rogueries, they were swept for the moment off their feet by the glitter of gold in Morgan’s glowing words. They looked questioningly at Nancy, who came now from her cabin, followed by Yellow Eyes, who appeared mysteriously from some hiding-place, and the shouts died down as quickly as they had risen. There was a moment of silence, a thick, heavy, ominous silence, the kind of a silence that fills the world the moment before a hurricane strikes, and then the sharp clatter of Jim Rimble’s fishing sinkers as they fell back upon the deck. One of them rolled to where the dumb man stood blinking in the sunlight, his yel- low eyes burning like polished gold. His fiery orbs rested for an instant upon the tiny disk that had fallen at his feet. He stooped and picked it up, smelled of it, bit it, threw it up and caught it, and then went leaping about the deck like a madman, as if sud- denly bereft of his senses. With the bit of metal clutched in his fin- gers he rushed among the men, forcing them to look upon it, pointing to it, making the most horrible grimaces in his hopeless ef- forts to speak. Catching sight of a long- boat loaded with the lead and made fast at the side, he threw himself into her and groveled among the pigs, covering them with his slobbery kisses, caressing them, en- deavoring to carry one in his arms. This being too much for even his great strength, he scrambled back over the bulwarks and ran about again among the men, grunting and groaning. >) ) tain Morgan, backing away from him, and all but stumbling over- board in his haste. “He must be possessed of the devil. I would not have him on my ship for all the gold in Peru. Speak, fool, and have done with thy gibberish. What art thou trying to say? The sight of so much lead hath befuddled thee. When [I cast it I shall have a care to make a bullet that will fit thy skull.” Yellow Eyes, who had stopped his frenzy “CURSE the fellow!” cried Cap- 63 to listen to this speech, went fairly beside himself, his tongueless gullet filled with froth, his great arms moving convulsively. Little Cochinillo, crossing himself piously, as if he had been a real monk, scurried for the side, shouting at the top of his voice: ‘‘“He’s a witch! He’s a witch!” and dived into the sea. The pirates waited for no more. With blanched faces they made a rush for their boats and tumbled into them, shaking and trembling. “Come back, you fools!’ roared Captain Morgan. “How can a man be a witch?” But they paid no heed, and took them- selves off to a safe distance. | Stopping for a moment the dumb man paused as if thinking, then made a rush for the companionway. “Don’t let him go below, men!” cried Captain Stillingfleet impulsively. ‘He’ll turn the prisoners loose or else disclose the treasure to these pirates.” With the snarl of a wild animal, Yellow Eyes drew a knife from his shirt and rushed upon the Devon man, who caught his wrist in an iron grip, twisting it until the blade fell to the deck. But if Godfrey was strong, the dumb man in his frenzy was his master, and breaking the hold, he sprang back, and, picking up an ax that lay in the scuppers, he hurled it with all his strength. Captain Stillingfleet dodged, but not quickly enough. The ax struck him a glancing blow in the head and he went down like an ox. -With a scream of mingled rage and grief, Nancy looked about her for a weapon, tears of fury in her eyes. “‘Give me thy pistol,’”’ she demanded of Captain Morgan, who stood apart, a curi- ous light in his eyes. _ “Nay,” he replied. ‘Wait a bit. What was it Master Stillingfleet said just now of prisoners—and treasure? ‘There is more mystery here than I had thought on, and the man yonder, for all his dumbness, may give me the clew.”’ He raised his hand, that the men in the small boats, still at some distance from the ship, might see him, and gave a long, whis- tling call. ‘“Would you spare the scoundrel who blew up your ship, and see him kill the finest Devon man since Francis Drake?” shouted the girl, fairly beside herself. “Blew up the Oxford!’ cried Captain Morgan. CoMmichoooks CO