Adventure Magazine Cover — page 103: what you’re looking at

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

88 with elbows and back, to shake. Saltsman off, but, despite all he could do, it went over, spoke by spoke, and very slowly the big ship began to swing around. “Let go!” said Micky wrathfully and stepped back, swinging a straight blow for Saltsnaan’s face. The quartermaster’s aim was good and there was no attempt to parry. It would have been a knockout for most any one else, but Saltsman only grunted, shook his head, and swept back with one of his big hands, holding the wheel over with the other. The move was unexpected, as the quarter- master had good reason to believe that his blow would put the man out, and in the dark he did not see it coming. He was sent spinning across the bridge. “You leave me be,” said Saltsman with- out anger. ‘I know what I’m about.” ‘Same as all the other nuts from the nut farms,” retorted the quartermaster, his head ringing with the mighty cuff. _ He collided with the nest of speaking- tubes that went below, and jerked out one of the plugs to whistle for the captain. “Tl have the Old Man up. Come on over here, Bert,” he called to the signal-boy. “Gimme me a hand with this loco hay pitcher. Can’t wait for an answer, but the whistle will bring him.” Bert was reluctant. “Maybe Mr. Hoskins did say one hun- dred and seventy and not two hundred and seventy,” he temporized. ‘‘Let’s wait for the skipper.” “Wait nothing! This bird’s gone wild. He’ll pile us up on the beach while the Old Man is getting his boots on. Grab him around the legs while I sink another hot one in his jaw.” “You two let me alone,” begged Salts- man. “I don’t want to hurt neither one of you, but I’m a-going to hold this here wheel till she reads a hundred and seventy.” The two men advanced, using con- siderable caution. The Alia was swinging sluggishly with left wheel. | “LIGHT HO!” exclaimed the sig- nalman suddenly. “Where away?” answered the quartermaster mechanically, wondering what other complication was developing to confuse a situation still far from solution. “Red light half a point on the starboard bow!” cried the signalman, pointing. Adventure “Schooner or something,” said the quar- termaster. “No masthead light. We’re right on top of her, and she’s got all the right of way there ever was! Suffering Pete, what a smash-up! Pull that whistle cord, Bert! Three blasts!” The quartermaster jumped for the en- gine-room telegraph, intending to back the engines. | Saltsman was the quicker. He had seen the light, too, and, picking up the grating which smaller helmsmen used to stand on, he jammed it under the wheel to hold it where he wanted, and ran to the telegraph. Micky felt himself picked up bodily, his hand torn from the lever. As he was thrown down the deck, he heard Saltsman’s grunt of effort. The pointer still stood at full speed ahead. Bert, the signal-boy, had reached the wheel, pulled out the grating, and started to revolve the spokes to stop the A/éa’s turn, ‘Keep away, buddie,” warned Saltsman. “I’m going to do the steering till the captain gets here.”’ At his command the signal-boy let go promptly. Even with the quartermaster’s help he was doubtful of success in subduing the big sailor. Saltsman took the wheel. The red light was now broad on the starboard bow. “That'll clear now,’ he muttered and spun the wheel over, reversed the helm, and began to steady the big ship. “Green to green and red to red,” he muttered to himself, ‘keep your course and go ahead.” The quartermaster, scrambling back from the wing of the bridge where Saltsman’s heave, and a roll of the ship at the same time, had thrown him, came up behind again. “Don’t you know anything, you big farmer?” he shouted. ‘“You’ve got your green light to the other fellow’s red one. © Put her over right wheel, quick, before we- cut her in two!” Again he attempted to reach the spokes, but as before Saltsman shook him off, Micky Morton’s morale was still good, but the feel of the big sailor’s enormous strength had made him wary. “You're trying to fool me,” said Salts- man. “I don’t trust you. Red to red the book says, and I learnt it by heart. She’s passing, anyhow, whatever it is.”’ “Yes, I see,” said the quartermaster scornfully. ‘‘All the real sailors are not Gomichbooks: co