Adventure Magazine Cover — page 98: what you’re looking at

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

88 stores in his desperate efforts to escape the supposed seventy-four, which chased him. into Falport and made him the laughing- stock of the town. “Guess it’s about time we let up on the deacon,” said Swift to his partner. ‘‘It was downright Christian of him to warn us the way he did, just now.” : Bloggs snorted skeptically. “He’s a Christian for revenue only! I’d trust him as far ez I c’d throw a meetin’- house by the steeple. The deacon’s fixing up some low-down scheme to get back at us, mark my words.” Swift shook his head and turned to call down to Uncle Ezra, as the sixth wooden gun was taken aboard the sloop. ‘“‘Guess you’d better cast off and make for the point before the Britisher gets near enough to see what sort of artillery you’re landing.” Broad-beamed and slow was Starbuck’s sloop, but with the ebb running strong and an off-shore wind astern, she crossed the harbor and docked in the little cove behind the fort, while the English brig was still working her way round Tautog Shoal. Through his telescope, Asa Swift watched a detail of militiamen, hidden from seaward by a ridge of sand, wade out into the cove, hoist the dummy forty-two pounders shoul- der-high and hurry with them into Fort Gosnold. Five minutes later the chunky little man- of-war, beating up for the harbor mouth, hove to with amusing suddenness. “Guess her officers are using their spy- glasses too,” chuckled Swift. ‘‘They don’t like the looks of the heavy metal that’s just been run out of the embrasures. With the flag a-flying and shakoes lining the ram- parts, that mud-heap looks mighty danger- ous.” “Hope the brig doesn’t run-in and give the fort a broadside, just to try,” said Bloggs. “T’ve known a good many British naval officers, Noah, but I’ve never met one that ‘ was crazy enough for that. Long before he could get near enough to use those stubby little carronades of his, those forty-two. pounders would knock the brig into match- sticks—if they weren’t sticks themselves. And as long as the Britisher keeps out of range, how’s he going to learn the difference? He’ll hang around for a while, and maybe send in his boats tonight to try and cut us Adventure. out. If he does, we’ll be ready for them.” Boarding-nets were rigged, the few real guns that had been transferred from the Snapping Turtle were double-loaded with grape, pistols and cutlasses served out, and a big kettle of pitch set bubbling over the galley fire. All night long the privateers- men slept on their arms or watched for the loom of an on-coming boat and listened for the faint thumping of muffled oars. The night passed without an attack, but morning showed the brig still cruising leisurely back and forth off the harbor mouth. “He’s not here to bombard but to blockade,” decided Swift. ‘Too many privateers been slipping out of Falport to suit the English. Looks as if we’d better land our million-dollar cargo, Noah.” | “Gol ram it, we'll glut the market,” complained Noah. ‘‘Can’t expect to sell two thousand tons of silk and spices and calico prints in a place the size of Falport. We'll have to haul it up to Boston by road and that’ll cut into our profits somethin’ awtul.”’ ‘‘YVou know more about the business end of it than I do. Suppose you go ashore now and see about hiring teams. And since the deacon gave us warning yester- day, Noah, we ought to give him a fair share of the hauling.” } “Don’t you worry "bout the deacon’s not gettin’ his fair share and somethin’ over,” snorted Bloggs. ‘‘Part o’ Cape Cod was named for his ancestors.” ‘‘What part’s that?” ‘“‘Buzzard’s Bay!” Rv “I TOLD you so!” spluttered Noah ieee Bloggs as he came aboard half an hour later. “Don’t say I didn’t tell you so!” “‘Cap’n, there ain’t a cart nor a wagon nor a draft-horse nor a mule nor a yoke of oxen to be had in all Falport County.” ‘“‘What’s happened to ’em all?’”’ demanded Swift. ‘ “The deacon’s hired the lot! Soon as the old curmudgeon sighted that Britisher, he saw his chance to get even. He’s bought or hired every rig and critter in town. While we've been getting ready to fight, he’s been sending out agents on horseback to get options on all the farm-wagons from here to Barnstable. He’s sittin’ in his office now, grinnin’ like an old cat with cream on his DOOK (©