Adventure Magazine Cover — page 96: what you’re looking at

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

=YANKEE TRICKS | ae Farnham Bishop Author of “Yankee Notions,” “The Deacon’s Seventy-Four,” etc. “Then fill your glasses full, And we'll drink to Captain Hull, And merrily we'll push along the brandy, oh! Johnny Bull may toast his fill, But let him say what he will, The Yankee boys for fighting are the dandy, ‘oh!’’ T THE close of the final roaring stanza of ‘Constitution and Guerriere,” the most popular of all the popular songs of that lively year of 1812, the chair- man stood up and rapped for order with his sword-hilt. “Citizens of Falport, we are gathered here this afternoon to welcome our valiant and successful friends and neighbors, the officers and crew of the Snapping Turile, priva- teer——”’ “Hooray!”’ interrupted the assembled citizenry of Falport, Mass., with a cheer that rattled the tavern windows. The banquet was just getting under full headway and the hard cider beginning to seep through the thick crust that covers emotions on Cape Cod. Colonel Seth Dusenbury, chairman of the reception committee and commander of the Falport County militia, many of whom were present in full uniform, pounded a few more dents in the table-top and resumed his fervid oration. “‘Those intrepid seamen who, after giving up their own puny and disabled vessel as a cartel to their more numerous but van- quished foes, have returned in triumph on board their gigantic prize, the East India- man, Nabob, the largest and most richly 86 laden ship ever brought into this or any other American port. Charge your glasses, gentlemen, and drink with me to the health of the Nabob’s captor, that true-born son of Falport, Captain Asa Swift.” When the applause had come to an end, the captain tried to reply. He stood there, flushed and tongue-tied, suffering the ex- quisite agony of a modest man of action exhibited as a hero and forced to make his first publicspeech. For five eternal seconds he faced a battery of staring eyes and sought vainly for something to say. Then camea startling interruption. The door of the dining-room flew open and slammed back against the wall with a bang that made the banqueters jump and turn toward the doorway. They saw on the threshold a lean, stoop-shouldered man in a tight, rusty black suit and a neck-cloth of yellow linen that matched his face for color and wrinkles. “‘Belshazzar’s feast!’ he cried scornfully through his nose. ‘“Belshazzar’s feast!’ At the note of hostility in the other’s voice, all of Asa Swift’s embarrassment and diffidence vanished. At the same time his heart warmed toward his ancient enemy for getting him out of an awkward situation. “Come right in, Deacon Terwilliger,” sald the captain hospitably. “Draw up a chair and fill your plate.” The deacon had been the only man in Falport to reject an invitation to the ban- quet, nor did he accept one now. ‘““You’d better hustle out of here quick ez God’ll let ye!” he shrilled warningly. MICLOOOKS (©