Adventure Magazine Cover, October 30, 1924 — page 12: what you’re looking at

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

2 Adventure much hornier palm than to be looked for in so well-dressed a man. Day chuckled, and pointed again at the ship close by, and now ready to cast off. “From your air, you seem to know her, sir.” “Aye, and heaven help the poor fools!” said Hampton, with cynical eye. “Her skipper is a hard one; old Proctor is the worst manhandler afloat, and a stubborn, opinionated man to boot.” A burst of yells and quick voices aboard the ship interrupted them, and suddenly her decks were alive with men. All were staring up toward the town, such as were not at work; Hampton and his companion likewise turned, as to them drifted the lively strains of a fife-and-drum corps, and gazed up the street. “Gold and Bibles!” said Hampton, with a curt laugh. “It’s a little gold the poor fools will ever see! They’ve been up at the Tabernacle Church listening to a sermon. They might better have been down at the docks listening to the truth about what’s ahead of ’em.”’ Day gave him a shrewd, sidelong glance, but kept silence. This was the gold year, the year of ’49, and few men in all New England would have agreed with the voiced sentiments of Richard Hampton. Cer- tainly those sentiments were shared by none of the approaching mob, whose shrill clamor of voices was sweeping down to the wharf and echoing out across the water. The Capitol was the finest ship yet to leave for California, and the Naumkeag Company of Salem, now embarking, was the largest and best-equipped organization that had so far left Boston for the gold-diggings. “There goes ‘Susannah!’’”’ and Day chuckled. ‘‘By the time they’ve rounded the Horn they’ll be singing a different sort of tune, eh?” A roar of voices swelled out, after the fife and drums, in one of the countless varia- tions of the great song which was sweeping the country from Maine to Mexico. The fifes skirled high, the drums rolled, as down to the wharf came the head of the proces- sion—the Naumkeag Company, two hun- dred-odd strong, armed to the teeth with rifles, pistols, bowies, each man carrying a large Bible, gay banners flying in the cold wind. Behind and around trooped a great mob of friends and relatives, curious townsfolk, envious neighbors. Salem men and Boston crowd all joined in the roaring chorus that went lifting across the bay: “T came from Salem City With my shovel on my knee, I’m bound for California The nuggets for to see! ’Twas bitter cold the day I left, Ahead ’tis warm and dry, And gold-dust for the picking-up— Oh, brothers, don’t you cry! ‘Oh, California, That’s the land for me! I’m bound for Sacramento With my shovel on my knee!” Out on the wharf poured the wild throng, women weeping, boys yelling, men shouting wild farewells and wilder prophecies of a wealthy return. Salem folk poured down to see the company off, just as folk were pouring down to many another New En- gland wharf to see such companies depart— just as, in those first frantic golden days, other companies were being seen off from many a wharf in France and England and Germany, and even in distant Australia. Richard Hampton and his companion drew well over te one side, out of the rush of folk. All the Salem men knew Dick Hamp- ton, however, and he was promptly recog- nized. As the company trooped past, a storm of excited shouts and greetings was hurled at him, eager flashing faces were turned to him, for he had been three months away from home this voyage. “Join up, Dick, join up! Good ship, good seaman—come along!” ‘“There’s Dick Hampton, home from sea! See you in Sacramento, lad!” “Gold ahead of us, Dick—pitch in and get your share before it’s all picked up! Eli’s gone to the diggings, Dick! We’re out to beat the Salem Mechanics’ Company —cap’n’s promised to pass ’em this side Callao - Hampton waved his hand as the com- pany stamped past, and his cool exterior showed no sign of the sudden heart-leap within him at Eli’s name. Eli gone! What did that mean? Then, as he listened to the excited cries, the wild promises of gold, the farewells, he drew out a hand from his pocket and began to juggle a number of broad pieces. ‘“‘“Gold!”? he muttered. ‘‘Better look at it now, for it’s all the gold you’ll see!”’ “Right,” acclaimed a voice at his side. Half-startled, he turned to meet the dark comicbooks.c© in