Adventure Magazine Cover, April 3, 1918 — page 155: what you’re looking at

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

Inducement Then there was a moment, eternal it seemed, of still intensity, of maddening suspense, of growing horror. A _ voice shrieked into the night— ‘Are you mad?” A siren shrilled. Then a deafening crash, a rending of steel plates. The impact threw me against the railing infront. The shock restored me somewhat; I rose unsteadily and scrambled to the wheel. I signaied the engine-room for full speed ahead. I had but one thought, to keep the nose of the Aladdin in the side of the other ship until she sank. There was a wild scramble down on the deck, curses, cries, orders—and Findlay? I shall never forget it He stood near the starboard life-boat, in his spotless but somewhat wrinkled white uniform, his sallow upturned face and bald head gleaming white and ghastly like a dead man’s, his arms stretched outward and upward as if in rapturous prayer. Then he began to chant, slowly, solemnly— the doxology! I hope I shall-never hear it again under such circumstances! The bustle, the cries, the curses and then that solemn chant— “Praise God from whom all blessings flow——”’ 153 It was ludicrous and awful. Finally he stopped, dropped his arms to his sides, and I heard him pray, wearily but distinctly— ‘“‘Now let Thy servant depart in peace.” He went aft, hesitatingly, and disap- peared forever. A sailor said afterward that he had seen him at the taffrail, and that later he had heard a splash. The strange ship sank slowly; the Aladdin clung to her side, tenaciously, like an obstinate bulldog. But at last she foundered; the yawning hole back of her funnel would not be denied. Her crew was safe aboard the Aladdin; we backed away and stood by watching her go down. First she listed over to port, lay there irresolutely for a moment, then she dis- appeared swiftly, her masthead lights stick- ing out of the sea, forlornly, long after the hull had vanished. But as she glided down into the water, her after part rose high in the air, and I saw in the sheen of the water and the glow of the stars her name written in large letters over her stern. It was the Estelle of Bristol. Call it chance if you like, but I call it Fate. INDUCEMENT BY IRA SOUTH "T BEIR songs all sing the open road, And yet, by curious turn, It’s not for the endless trail at all That the wandering brethren yearn. They make the ports unknown to call, But dream in every clime Of spreading wide their peaceful tents, In some far happy time. It’s searching out this resting-place Their roving lives are spent; They would lay a hearth and dig them wells In the country of content. And just behind yon sea-blue hill, No man can surely say— May lie the blessed slopes they seek, To settle down for aye. COnnicloool< (C@