Adventure Magazine Cover — page 43: what you’re looking at

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

- Born to be Hanged, But— _ 29 At some time or other his tongue had been cut out. In China a are taken to keep secrets. On board the Jessie Darling Yang Li and I became friends. Eventually, in years that followed, we were to become brothers. I was to find that for cunning and loyalty that Chinaman was incomparable. Why he had taken a fancy to me then, I do not know. I never did know. Not even Chinese wizardry could foretell that some months later my gun was to clear his trail of enemies. But that does not belong to this story. I was washed and bandaged. My body was sore, but I was not weak. I was furious, but as my ferocity is never emo- tional, I said little and displayed patience. I asked if he knew who had attacked me. He did. I repeated what names I knew, but he nodded at one only. Swanson’s. I was unarmed. He offered me a long knife, refined of edge to a razor’s sharpness. I took it, though what I know of handling a knife is about the same as any other man knows—nothing except to grasp the handle and thrust. A knife in the hand of an “expert is about the deadliest weapon made. I ask him if he thought he could steal the gun of mine that had been given the captain the night before. He shook his head and tried to tell me something im- portant. The mutineers had broken loose; but it was not a mutiny according to the previous plan. Thrope wanted to turn back to San Francisco. He was the owner of the ship. He was rich. His name was known to every man. He was the big boss—and he was to give them protection for putting back, and later, so he promised, to fit them out with a ship of their own for the gold hunt. The upshot of the thing was that I had been attacked and left for dead, not so “much to secure the maps which I was sup- posed to have, as to secure the letter which Thrope wanted. Events had taken a sud- den whirl. I learned all that later. Yang tried to tell me, but he was not very successful. He could write a bit of English, but I found it hard to read his writing. However, he did make it clear to me that I had been thrown overboard. Yang, Tyler and another seaman had dumped overboard a form’ made of a blanket and weighted with bricks out of the galley. Captain Whibley, badly wounded, was barricaded in his cabin with Helen Curwen. The captain was no coward and he was armed, but he did not stand a chance. Swanson wanted to kill him and intended to, especially as Thrope had much the same wish. With Whibley dead and myself over- board, Thrope and the crew could tell any kind of a story and have it believed. Thrope was not the sort of man who would hesitate to take such measures as seemed necessary to silence Helen. The situation was rather twisted. Yang painfully wrote out the question— You kill hime I found he meant Swanson. I told him that I would take pleasure in relieving Swan- son of further earthly troubles at the first opportunity. But Yang protested. He made me under- stand that it would be a particular favor to him if he were allowed the pleasure of set- tling with Mr. Swanson. “Can you use this thing?” I asked, hold- ing up the long, lean knife. _He snatched-it up. His wrist was like a swivel. His arm flashed in and out and up and down. Balanced on his toes, his thin body swayed right and left, ducked, with dazzling rapidity the long blade played with thrust and feint. Then he stopped abruptly and held his arm upraised, poised to throw. “T guess you had better keep it,” I told him. “Bring me a meat cleaver or some- thing I know more about.” He took my half-jesting words at face value. I was furnished with a heavy cleaver. Vil Si THE day passed. bs The crew, naturally, got drunk. It was quiet weather, scarcely more than a breath on the ocean—and no reason for staying sober. The sails were drooped, the wheel made fast, and the Jessie Darling meandered lazily. Tyler was drunk, too. I suppose he had had to show good fellowship with the muti- neers. But my private opinion is that he did not try very hard to evade drunken- ness. com (@) books. co