Adventure Magazine Cover — page 41: what you’re looking at

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

Born to be Hanged, But— Captain Whibley was a strong man, in a way that a man is by his personality power- ful. It was only with a psychological effort that I refused. “No, captain—not yet. Ill break the gun and give it to you at the proper time. But I may want to plug that skunk without having to search around for something to do it with.” Evidently he sympathized with my feel- ing toward Thrope; and perhaps, too, he recognized that I would not give up the gun. “What do you meanr” he asked, firmly but inquiringly rather than challengingly. “Did you see the girl at all?” “Yes. Isaw her. She was very beauti- ful.”” He said it simply. I did not tell the captain all I knew. Helen would not tell him all she had told me. Thrope would not tell all that he knew either. Then I did not know so much as I thought I did—not even after having read the letter which was carefully deposited in my own pocket. I will try to be brief, for important things happened later on. The captain went to Helen himself. He questioned her, but not as a sea captain might have been expected to do by those who have rarely met the type of Whibley. He was a strong and lonely man, with a fine sense of justice and an implacable honor. He returned where I kept vigil over Thrope. And what he told Thrope did my heart good. With dignity, without profanity, with something of religious in- dignation but no mention of God—for, after all, such manhood as Whibley’s is a higher religion than the maundering eye- rolling of the self-consciously holy, who can do nothing decent without calling His attention to their merits—Captain Whibley told the man of millions, the literal owner of that ship, the man powerful and un- scrupulous enough to wreck any captain’s career, exactly what kind of a dog he was. And Whibley said that as soon as the Jessie Darling reached port the full story of the affair would be made public. “And I'll ruin you!” yelled Thrope. I touched Thrope on the shoulder. It was something a little more than a touch perhaps, for he wheeled involuntarily and looked into my face. “You forget,” I reminded him, “that my affairs have first claim on your atten- tion!”’ 27 It was then that Thrope appealed to Captain Whibley to have me disarmed. Whibley’s sense of justice required him to make demands for the gun. I gave one over to him. “He has another,” shouted Thrope. The captain asked if that was true. He said to hand it over. I refused, politely as possible. The captain, furious at this defiance of authority, reached for the one I had laid on the table; but I threw back the breast of my coat, and with a slight jerk of my wrist he was covered. = I apologized, but I was insistent. In fact I reached out and recovered the other gun. I was sorry for Captain Whibley. I liked him. I would have liked him less had he not been so determined to disarm me: he had no fear, but turned his back on me and walked from the cabin. Thrope and I were alone, but we did not talk. That is, he talked but I scarcely listened. He was offering “peace,” he was suggesting an “offensive and defensive”’ alliance. If that story, which Whibley had declared was for the public, shoulc reach its destination—Thrope’s political honors would go glimmering, if his political influence would not be entirely destroyed. Swanson and four men came to the cabin door. Their orders were to disarm and bind me. But I—I merely pointed toward Thrope and said— “That’s the man!” With rough summary hands they searched him, and found nothing of firearms; they bound him in spite of his raving protests and stowed him on the bunk. I rummaged through Thrope’s effects and found a gun. I removed one of my own, took the shells from the two of them and told Swanson to take them and the report to Whibley. The men knew very well that they had not been sent to tie up Thrope. But as a chief conspirator and a ringleader of the proposed mutiny which was already due, I was immune from their violence. - THAT is, I was immune just then. That night Sam Tyler gave me the ve’ ship news. First, Helen Curwen had been given other quarters than those offered by the steward, and placed under the protection of Captain Whibley. Tyler had been at the wheel early in the Eomichooks. co