Adventure Magazine Cover — page 182: what you’re looking at

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

172 swallowing hard. This movement brought him pressing against Miriam. She laid her hand firmly but with gentleness on his shoulder, as if to reassure him. The Frenchman again felt his heart warm with sympathy for her. “This woman,” he thought to himself, “must be saved.”’ After several hours the stars again came out, the waning moon shone coldly from above, the seas flattened out, and a clear breeze made it possible to break out the sail once more and continue westward with a foaming bow for the coast of Somaliland. By dawn the dhow had been baled dry and everything made trim. Abu Khalil, proud of his assumption of the power of a sultan in virtually con- demning the Somali sailor to death, had placed himself upon his prayer-mat spread upon the little deck. From this point, with a hookah beside him, he looked down frowning upon the boat and all its crew. Cohusac avoided his gaze as much as possi- ble; he was in constant terror of discovery. The drenching downpour had thoroughly soaked him. Far worse than that, it had softened the scraggly little mustache and chin-whiskers, and they had come off! He knew as he sat huddled in the shadow that discovery would certainly mean death; but that possibility had faced him every moment since his interview with Miriam. He now feared, however, certain refine- ments of torture, and his harassed nerves stung at the thought. All day he sat with the end of his turban twined round the lower part of his face in Bedouin fashion, hunched with his chin upon his chest, re- fusing all food or drink, his eyes fixed upon the planking, dazed with the suffering of thirst and hunger. To all questions, all orders; he was dumb, merely shaking his head, until every one came to the conclusion that the tempestuous night had sickened and unnerved him. After that they made a joke of the hunch- back, mocking and trying to tantalize him. Cohusac made no motion of resentment, only to grunt when Miriam, moved with pity, offered assistance. The heat was even more stifling than on the previous day; but the wind had carried the boat within sight of the low-lying African shore, and when the wind failed the Somalis took to the oars with fresh enthu- siasm. Cohuac’s appearance of sickness Adventure gradually became reality. The.long, rock- ing motion of the boat as it climbed to opalescent slopes and coasted into the hol- lows; the hot, stifling sun, the overpowering smell of polluted bilge-water and the stench of bad fish were too much! He could hear the hollow grumble in his stomach; his tem- ples began to contract with dangerous tightness; his lips and mouth were dry, though the saliva began to trickle into his mouth faster than he could swallow. Though he clenched his teeth, his jaws began to float. He had to reach the gun- wale of the boat or bring uncleanness to those about him. Staggering to his feet, he lifted himself to the gunwale and, pulling aside the cloth that veiled his face, ended the agony in a series of convulsions. The Somalis laughed and yelled at him. Knowing that he was the center of observation, he dared not lift his head. ‘“Wallah!” exclaimed Abu Khalil with mock severity. ‘‘Cease, warbler! We do not like that song!” There was a shout of laughter from the Somalis. All at once there was a sharp exclamation from the sheik with the black beard, and sudden absolute silence. The oarsmen stopped rowing. The boat rocked and creaked, the water hissing about it as it dipped in the blue water. Cohusac hung on to the gunwale, praying, expecting any minute to feel the shock of a jambeer plunged into his back, or to be seized by the heels and tossed into the sea. Instead, nothing happened. Unable to stand the tension any longer, he lifted his head and turned defiantly. Not a man was even looking at him! All eyes were fixed upon a ship that had appeared on the horizon. |] AT FIRST it was vaguely outlined, | gray against a French-blue sky. It might have been a dhow, also bound for Africa; but as they looked a faint thread of smoke appeared. The sail turned into the superstructure of a ship, the mast into a funnel. There was a shout of rage and fright. Without waiting for the order, the oarsmen swung their weight on the sweeps; the captain of the craft, thrusting the tiller into Abu Khalil’s hand, ran lightly over the thwarts forward and began again to unfurl the sail. The evening breeze was stirring in a light Go NOOK 1@)