Adventure Magazine Cover — page 97: what you’re looking at

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

The Makings of a Sailorman vas, huh? Steel mein leetle Susy? You steel vait for your boy Axel, huh?” “Sure I vas vait,” she tells him. “TI vait and I vait and I break mein heart vaiting. I tank you skoll never come.”’ “Dot’s all your fault,” says he cross-like and frowning at her like a bandy-legged banty. “You vas leave no address ven you leave Veenona, Meenesota. And ven I come back from de ol’ country you vas gone a year already, and I can not find you. And if I haf not seen Yon Yonson in Nort’ Platte last veek I tink I skoll never find you. Vy vas you leave no address, Susy? You gotta learn Dot ban no vay for do. 83 do more better, Susy, I tall you. I teach you, you bet. We skoll marry right avay. You need a man for boss youaround. Pick up de trunk, Susy, and come along show me vare I buy de license.” With that this half-portion o’ nothing handed Susy the cow-hide bag for. good measure and spraddled off up Main Street like he owned the earth. And Susy did what she was told exact as a baa-lamb. She’d forgot Andy complete and effectual. Me personal, I rubbed my eyes to make sure I was awake; then I turned round to ask Andy if he seen what I’d been seeing. But Andy was having hy-sterics. i} THE MAKINGS OF A SAILORMAN By Ray Be Churchill Author of eT he Bae Takes Care of His Own,” “Inside and Outside,” E WAS so big and husky that a pea-coat looked like a vest on him. He sat on the after- bitts abreast No. 4 hatch on the cargo ship Alta, his broad shoes rest- ing comfortably on the rail. Presently he came hurriedly into the afterquarters. The Alia, deep laden, had scooped up a sea, and he was dripping wet. “T was settin’ on them stumps there,” he explained to grinning shipmates, ‘“‘with my feet on the fence, and the water come right up and hit me.” There you have Orion Saltsman, a big, good-natured country boy pried loose from his native clods and set down, man size and awkward, in the primer grade of old Mother Sea. “What’re you doing in this outfit, Bud?” said the boatswain’s mate, spare and gnarled of form and sharp of voice. The Alta’s crew, all recruits except the skeleton complement of old-timers, had been aboard too short a time for “Hasty” Day to know them by name, but some men take nicknames as a dog does burrs. “‘T aim to learn the work,” said the farmer boy with friendly respect. “My name’s Saltsman.”’ “Old Salty, eh?” said Hasty. “You’re the one that was after me for red and green oul for the running lights?” ‘Ves, sir; I aim to do what they tell me always.” “You do?” said the little man, putting that full measure of sarcasm into the tone to which his five red enlistment stripes entitled him. ‘Two-thirds of you fellows think salt water is something to gargle your throat with. Give your conning tower an overhauling and see if you can find a brain or two. ‘There’s no such thing as green and red oil, but if some of these wise birds think they’re going to turn this ship into a vaudeville circuit, they’ find themselves studying art after hours. You GEomicbooks..c (0) af)