Adventure Magazine Cover — page 73: what you’re looking at

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

Assignats 59 Micky stared at the point of the bayonet which crossed the sky over his head. He glanced at the flashing cranks of the cross- compound engines. He raised his voice above the noise of their wallowing passage. “The answer is this!” he snapped. “They're going to Victoria and Canada to raise a revolution. ‘There are a lot of Bol- sheviki in ’iding—from Victoria to the At- lantic seaboard. This is a plot to start somethin’ against law and order. I'll smash that big grand juke with a ’ammer the next time ’e talks to me. ‘E’s insulted a British seaman—’e ’as!”’ Mike shot a crafty glance at the stoke- hold door. He scratched his greasy neck. “A plot?” he said. ‘Ah hae noo doot we can nip itin the bud. All we got to do is to open the bilge-cocks and drown the rats.” “And we go down with them?” “Aye!” Micky shook his head. “We're not martyrs,” he suggested cut- tingly. ‘There may be a better way to get rid of the scum of Siberia.” ‘Set the hooker on fire?” “We'll roast with it!” “Ah’ll think it over, then.” Mike Monkey disappeared through the bulkhead door. Micky watched the en- gines fora long minute. He raised his eyes and saw a shadow cross the companion opening. A second bayonet joined the first. Ivan had posted two guards to watch the three men between decks. The big Rus- sian also signaled for more speed. He was answered by oaths from Mike Monkey and Red Landyard. A LONG, hot day passed. The heat of the stoke-hold and engine- S25 room was a thing to remember. The three castaways sweated beneath the menace of the two bayonets and Ivan’s bru- tal oaths. The sounds from the deck were those of a madhouse. It was evident that the citizen captain did not know his position on the ocean. Once the Shongpong headed due south. Her course was changed to northeast. She steadied and clamped on- ward, holding an uncertain path. Night brought some relief from the heat. The Japan current was swinging along the American shore. A breeze sprang up. The ship rolled. Lurid oaths from the Russians came down the rusty ventilators. This was music to the castaways’ ears. Midnight and eight bells brought diver- sion. Running feet sounded on the ship’s planks. A muffled cannon-shot echoed from the distance. A shell burst over the freighter’s rigging. Clanging bells for more speed drove Micky from the engine-room into the stoke- hold. ‘A gunboat!” he exclaimed. ing chased!” ‘Ah thought we would be!” rasped Mike Monkey. “Shall Ah draw the fires?” The engineer’s question was answered by a curdling oath from Ivan. The leader of the Bolsehviki descended to the stoke-hold door. He peered through the gloom. “You heard the bells!” he snarled through his beard. ‘You all die if you don’t keep up steam. We’re going to escape from the cutter. Fortunately it is an old one.” Micky McMasters shook his head toward his two mates. He followed the Russian into the engine-room and picked up an oil- can as Ivan motioned for the sentries to get on deck. A silence fell upon the brooding ocean. Red Landyard appeared between the stoke-hold and the engine-room. He braced his legs and toyed with a short iron bar, Now and then he stared forward to where the crimson light glowed from the fire doors. The steam mounted in the gages. Mike Monkey worked alone. The Scotch-Irish engineer had evolved an idea out of the sit- uation. He had sent Red to the stoke-hold door in order to stand guard. “What is ’e doing?” asked Micky in a whisper. ““Sist!” said the Yankee. ‘‘Pretend to oil the engines and keep busy. Don’t let the sentries suspect anything. Watch the steam. It’s going up to the bursting point.” Micky watched the gage on the main steam leader. It started climbing from one hundred and seventy to one hundred and ninety. It went over the two hundred mark. It dropped and mounted again. The little cockney skipper heard the fire doors clanging. A baleful light streamed past Red Landyard. A roar sounded in the single funnel. It was as if the ship were equipped with a double-fan forced draft. The cross- compound engine spun like a turbine. ‘“What’s ’e putting on the fires?” ques- tioned Micky. ‘The tea!” “We're be- Gomircbooks.co (@)