Adventure Magazine Cover — page 71: what you’re looking at

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

Assignats 57 beneath the break of the quarter - deck. He mounted the main-hatch. His voice rose and fell with the whine of the north wind. He spoke in gusty torrents. He pointed to the red flag aft. He turned and leveled an accusing finger at the bridge where Red Landyard and Micky stood with folded arms. Mike squinted at the half-circle of Rus- sians. They were being worked up to a storm by their leader. A fur cap was passed. Into this was dropped slips of pa- per upon which were scrawled names. A rifle’s bayonet lifted above the heads of the Bolsheviki. A club swung. Mike leaped for the bridge-ladder and climbed to the bridge like a frightened ape. He worked his lashless brows up and down. He spat through yellow teeth: ‘“Wot’s the answer? Wot happened?” Micky McMasters sighed. He thrust his hands in his pockets resignedly. “Hit’s hall hup!” he declared. ‘“‘They’re electing a citizen captain to take my place. They’re voting for an engineer and mate. They say there should be equality on the sea as well as on the land. ’Ere comes hour substitutes!” | Mike glared at three Russians who had detached themselves from the others. One was a former coal-passer. Another had come aft from the forecastle. Ivan made the third. The Russian stood beneath the rocking bridge and said sternly: “Vou mutineers get below to the stoke- hold. We will guide the Shongpong out across the Pacific. We will make our own report without your aid. We need you on deck no longer.” Red Landyard snatched up a_ belaying- pin from the lee rail. “—_ you!”” he shouted. as mate—and I'll be mate!”’ “And I’m captain!” shrieked Micky. The fight which followed was all one- sided. A hoarse command from Ivan was answered by a determined rush forward. The Bolshevik horde swarmed over the bridge of the wallowing freighter. Micky and Red Landyard fought them tooth and nail. They swung belaying-pins and a chart-case. They finished their end of the struggle upon their knees—to which posi- tion they were beaten by the press of num- bers. Mike, considering discretion the better “T signed. on part of valor,.managed to creep along the weather rail and spring for the engine-room companion. He sprawled down the ladder head foremost. He rebounded at the grat- ing. He snatched up a spanner and glared upward. He braced a foot in the pit, out of which flashed the slow-moving cranks of the cross-compound engines. His chin described a quarter-circle. The companion-way was darkened by the form of aman. Micky, still fighting, dropped down and struck the grating. Red Land- yard was hurled after the little skipper. Both seamen had been shorn ofe most of their clothes. Their faces were bleeding. Welts showed upon their shoulders. ‘“Gorblyme!” cried Micky. ‘‘Gorblyme —give me a hose! Give me hot water! Give me steam!” “Go easy,’ drawled the Yankee mate, squinting at the whiskered faces which blocked the entire companion. ‘“There’s a few of them left. We didn’t kill them all.” “We ought to!’ spat Micky. viki? They’re red-’anded murderers—that’s wot they are!”’ ‘“That’s my opinion,” said Mike Monkey. “You? You!” sputtered Micky. “Where were you when the fight started?” “Ah came down here for a pinch bar. Ah was just going up when ye joined me—pre- cipitously.”’ Micky rubbed his bleeding knuckles. He turned a cold shoulder upon the engineer, then stared upward. He made faces at the Bolsheviki and shook his broken right fist. “T’ll ’ave you know there’s a law on the seas!” he snapped. ‘I'll report this outrage to the next British consul.” Ivan pushed away the men about the companion. He descended two rungs of the iron ladder, turned and sneered into the gloom of the engine-room. “You are to remain below,” he said coldly. “Get steam up and give us full speed. You will be thrown overboard if you do not obey my orders. The citizen captain so directs me.”’ ‘‘Where’s me twa thousand rubles?” shouted Mike Monkey. ‘“Coom down here —ye scum of the steepies! Coom down!” Ivan started descending. He thought better of the action when Mike snatched up an iron bar and brandished it with agility. “Coom down, ye Bolshevik dog! Coom down if ye dare!”’ Ivan called in Russian. A ferocious face GEomichbooks ‘“Bolshe-— (E(@) m