Pulp Fiction, 1917 · page 99 of 196
Adventure, August 1917 — page 99: what you’re looking at
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Contraband Matrimony “Turrn loose on the. dunes,’ cried McConaughy. ‘‘We’re spent.” As he and Jock staggered through the water and were helped inboard by eager hands, the machine gun drummed a warning to the first Germans that swarmed across the seaward dunes, and every man who was not busy doing something else took up the tune with his rifle. For the next few minutes McConaughy and Jock lay in the bottom of the dory and pumped their lungs full of glorious, salt- ‘laden air. The racket of the machine gun and the tearing clatter of the rifles meant nothing to them. It was McConaughy who recovered first. “Evan,” he called. The chief engineer abandoned the machine gun to an assistant and crawled across the thwarts to him. ““Ha’ ye lost any men?” “No. Two wountid—not enough to count at all, whateffer. Put, naame o’ John Wesley, skipperr, ye hafe ploot on your coat!” Evan stooped quickly and ran his fingers along McConaughy’s shoulder. McCon- aughy winced involuntarily, and Evan stripped the coat open. “Ay,” exclaimed the Welshman. hafe a pullet t’rough t’e shoulter.”’ “Tf ha’ neverr felt it to this minute. *Tis ma firrst wound, Evan.” “Got pe praiset we hafe ye safe,” rejoined Evan fiercely. A chorus of amens echoed from the crew, who abandoned machine gun and engine to cluster around their skipper. “°This nought,” asserted McConaughy. “Back to work, all o’ ye.” _“Put firrst we shoult hafe a wee prayer,” objected Evan. ‘‘We hafe peen teliveret out of greaat taanger—an’ yourself not the least.” ‘“‘Ay,” agreed McConaughy. appreeciation o’ divine merrcy. pray, Evan.” And with the German bullets at. long range still plunking in the water around them, the motor thumping in their midst, Evan delivered himself of a prayer after his own heart, aggressively humble as to themselves and trenchantly bitter with venom towards their enemies. But he had scarce got the last amen out of his lips when he whirled around upon McConaughy again. “Ve ae i ha’ We'll, 97 “‘Saaint Taavit!” he cried. ‘‘T’e natural! Tit ye foist him on t’e Germans?” McConaughy grinned with pleasureable recollection and winked at Jock. “Ay, Evan. Poor lad. He covered the rearr 0’ ye to the last. We did what we could do prrotect him. maself’—Jock chuckled at this— ‘‘we were heroes, between us. Obsarrve ma wound in proof. But he lingerred too long, Evan. An’ that’s the long an’ the shorrt o’ it. The Gerrmans took him, an’ he’ll spend the next yearr or two o’ his promisin’ If I do say it, young life scratchin’ lice an’ learrnin’ the — virrtues o’ poverrty. God be prraised!” ‘‘Amen, again,” said Evan. “The young leddy——” Jock began. McConaughy cut him short. “The young leddy will neverr be men- tioned in connection wi’ the incident,” he commanded. ‘“‘Rememberr that, the two o’ ye. ’Iwas the forrtune o’ war. I willna call it the misforrtune.”’ “Tit ye’”— Evan lowered his voice, at once discreetly and significantly. “TI did not, I’m thankfw’ to say. I was rready to trrip him at need or bind him an’ hand him overr to the Gerrmans; but mat- therrs worrked out betther than I dared hope for. The laddie lost himself. Hecht, I thought from the starrt all we would need to do would be leave him by his lone i’ the darrk. I was right. Evan looked suspicious. “Put your wount?” ‘Just plain heavenly luck, Evan man. If. -I was you I wouldna be jealous o’ the gifts o’ Prrovidence.” Evan shook his head doubtfully. “‘Ye’re a paat maan when crosset, put I woult not put it py ye, if ye wanted the effect 4 “Would ye imply self-desthrruction?” roared McConaughy. “Well,” said Evan unabashed, ““t’?e wount is clean t’rough t’e flesh an’ nigh painless. It coult not hafe een neater tone—could it, Jock?” Obviously startled, Jock started to reply, when McConaughy interrupted. “‘Jock kens naething about it. Do ye, Jock?” ‘“‘Nae, nae. “T'was is “Ye ken nothing, Jock.” “Ay, Skipperr.” Evan spat over-side with an expressive- “ness beyond words. CoOMmiclsoo CO 5}