Adventure Magazine Cover, April 1916 — page 93: what you’re looking at

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

Dory-Mates for th’ vessel,” said Collins. ‘“‘We’re a-goin’ to git a snifter in a while.” “Aw, !? growled Anderson irritably. “This ain’t goin’ to be nawthin’ but a little snow squall. Ef we run back aboard every time it gits cloudy we’ll niver git ’ny fish. We'll set the other tub yet.” Westley looked at him strangely, ee at sea and sky, and resumed his trawl hauling. “You may be right, Tom,” he thought, “but th’ weather looks bad—mighty bad. And th’ vessel’s nowheres in sight.” The other had sense enough to know that it was time to be getting aboard, but he wanted to see Collins drink first. Blast the man! He had been hauling for hours — hot, thirsty work — and hadn’t even broached the jar for a drink. Usually, West Collins would drink half the jar in- side of the first two hours. He was an awful man for water and drank more than any man aboard. Anderson had purposely allowed him to do all the trawl hauling that morning, as the exertion would be likely to excite thirst and cause him to drink earlier than usual. There was a wind rising now and the black-green sea was beginning to crest under its impetus. A breaker burst under them and slapped a few gallons of water into the dory which was jumping and rear- ing like a fiery, untamed bronco. “Startin’ to breeze!” shouted Westley, turning a spray-reddened face to his dory- mate. “Keep a-haulin’—it’s nawthin’!’’answered the other, bailing the water out. The dory gave a wild lurch and the heft coming on the thin trawl-line caused it to part at the roller. “We're parted!” yelled Collins. yer oar out an’ head her up, Tom!” Suddenly the horizon was blotted out in a pall of smoky gray. The wind began to pipe up and tear the crests off the waves and hurl them through the air like rain, and stinging sleet hurtled down from the somber gloom aloft. The dory, tossing like a chip, drove off to leeward, with the two men in her tugging at the oars. “Where in blazes is th’ vessel, Tommy, _ boy?” shouted Collins trying hard to peer Hes the blinding, face-stinging spray and sleet. “I didn’t notice,” growled the other sullenly. “Git ol He was feeling savage at the predicament his folly had got him into. Adrift on Brown’s Bank in a March southeaster! It was no joke. In his blind hate, he felt less chagrined over that than in the fact that Collins had not broached the water-jar yet. However, there was time enough. But he hoped that his rival would drink before the schooner drove out of the smother and picked them up. For an hour they tossed around in the inferno of gale-whipped, sleet-lashed sea; plying the oars to keep the little craft from swamping and keeping a lookout for the vessel. The perspiration was pouring off Collins’s face and Anderson noted the fact with strange satisfaction. “By golly, Tom, but I’m thirsty!” grunted Westley, panting. “I ain’t had a drink sence we left th’ schooner. that dory-jar!”’ Suppressing the wild feeling of joy which thrilled him, Anderson passed the water- jug aft. The other threw in his oars, drew the jar plug, and deftly tipped the recep- tacle into the crook of his elbow preparatory to drinking. Anderson watched him with bated breath and bulging eyes. Suddenly, Collins lowered his arm and put the cork back in the jar. “No!” he said slowly. “I cal’late I won’t drink yet awhile. We may need that water badly afore we git out o’ this. If we’re astray it might mean a pull to the land—a good seventy or a hunder miles Gimme away. Here ye are, Tommy! Hev a little swig ef ye feel like it. I kin hang out for a spell.” ‘“‘No—no—no!”’ almost shrieked * Ander- son. “I don’t need any. Keep it for later.” , And when his dory-mate placed the precious jug carefully down on the dory bottom, the potential murderer grasped the oar handles savagely and clenched his teeth to suppress the flood of raging oaths which rose to his lips. For two hours they pitched and tossed about, saying but little to each other. The sea was blank of any other craft, and both knew that they were astray. The wind was increasing in violence. It was snowing heavily, and the sea was running over the fifty fathom water of the Bank in gigantic undulations capped with roaring crests. ‘We'll hev to make th’ land somewheres!”’ yelled Collins. ‘‘We’ll pitch out th’ fish CoMmichoooks CO