Adventure Magazine Cover, April 3, 1918 — page 172: what you’re looking at

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

170 “No, no,” he protested. “I can not listen—you can not, in honor—oh, what can I say to make you understand? We must not think of that which has been— you are his betrothed!” “His betrothed!’ she breathed scorn- fully, her eyes twin points of blue flame. “His purchase, together with the bales of spices in the hold! Let him keep ship and merchandise—you and I will go ashore in this strange land and live there forevermore!” “Ysabel! You would stay in Japan, a hostile and a heathen land! You would spend your life among barbarians to be with me?” “But there are thousands of Christians in Japan, so Ichio of the water-casks has told me,” the girl replied; “and good priests from Portugal, who—” her voice sank to a whisper, but she finished bravely, with crimson cheeks—“who would marry us, Diego.” Her lovely eyes looked up into his, her face was very near. Here, on this same corner of the poop where they now stood, he had first spoken to her, one moonlit night in mid-Pacific, of his great love. That love had filled his heart ever since, mastering him with its sweet madness, torturing him with its hopelessness, and now he felt it rise within him in a great, glad flood that swept away all doubts, all scruples. Why should he give her up? She was his, his in spite of the vile trickster who had stolen her from him, but who had not won her heart. She loved him, Diego, loved him enough to give up home, friends, riches and live in exile, so she might only live with him! And why not? Why should they not land on that beautiful shore before him, and there live happily as long as life was theirs? He bent toward her, beside himself with her beauty, and stretched out his arms to take her to him. But before he could put his thought into word or action, a loud challenging hail rang out from the forecastle: “Boat ahoy! Keep off or we fire!’’ Diego’s arms dropped to his side; . the madness swept from his brain by the urgency of duty, he turned to look out over the rail. A gorgeously painted barge, crowded with Japanese officials in strange ceremonial costumes, had put out from the shore and was approaching the anchored galleon. “But it is the honorable ambassadors of Adventure the Lord Kurushima,” came the reply in Spanish and in the familiar voice of Ichio, “with a most weighty message to the valiant Captain Don Diego de Torres.” “Bid the ambassadors come aboard,” Diego replied shortly. His half-hostile reception when he entered the harbor, the massing of troops on shore, and the semi-piratical reputation of the Tosa coast, had caused him to stand on his guard and keep off all shore craft at a safe distance. He had wanted nothing better than to be left alone till he could complete the tedious task of refilling the water-casks and put out to sea. But a formal embassy demanded formal and proper reception—even if he were not now thinking of making a welcome in Japan for himself and Ysabel. “Lower away the starboard gangway, smartly, there!” Diego commanded. “Boatswain, lay aft with your sideboys, drummers and trumpeters. Lieutenant Gomez, your musketeers and pikemen will form a guard of honor. Have them present arms as the ambassadors come overside.”’ Loud boomed the saluting guns; the trumpets sounded, the drummers beat a ruffle and the boatswain piped the am- bassadors aboard. There were bows and greetings on both sides; the ambassadors, all men well past middle life, with gor- geously embroidered silk kimonos and oiled black top-knots, almost swept the decks with their foreheads; and the courteous Spaniards drew off their plumed caps with a stately flourish and a crooking of velvet ‘knees. Beautiful gifts of curiously carved ivory were brought forward by the ambassadors; boxes of perfumed sandalwood, inlaid bronze-lacquer caskets, and rich pieces of raw silk, were presented in token of the friendly esteem of the Daimio. In ac- knowledgment, Diego had his servants bring out food, and tall glasses of Spanish wine, of which his guests partook sparingly. He offered no gifts in return, for he knew that would have offended the ambassadors. Ichio, maestro de los raciones de agua, proved himself also a master of the lan- guage and etiquette of both nations. After an hour’s hard work, he reached the point where he could deliver the Daimio’s urgent invitation to Captain Diego de Torres to visit him in his castle, and advise him how to combat the terrible tortoise-boat. COnniclooo S (C@