Adventure Magazine Cover, October 30, 1924 — page 61: what you’re looking at

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

south, West and North Warlock sat in the bow, Hampton in the stern. After an interminable time, the Indian paused in his labor, leaned forward and touched Hampton’s knee, and pointed. Hampton dimly descried a blur in the mist, a faint and ghostly shape, and knew that they must be close aboard the schooner. They now drew down upon her slowly, drifting cautiously. No sound, no lift of voices, came from her; but Hampton was aware of a stirring in the mist, and knew that a breeze was rustling upon them. So much the better, he reflected happily, as they had need of a breeze to get away. The beat floated in under the dark bulk of the schooner. Hampton, rising, fended off with his hands as the two craft touched, and pre- vented a bump or jar. The Indian moved her along slowly, and presently found what he sought—a Jacob’s ladder left dangling over the taffrail. Not so much as a stamp of foct came from above. Hampton caught the ladder; as he did so, the mist about them cleared away suddenly, and the full open moonlight struck down and illumined everything. It was no time to hesitate. Hampton swung up the rounds swiftly, got a leg over the rail, and dropped to the deck. At first he thought it deserted; then, lying against the rail at his very side, he discerned the figure of a man. It was the peon, the spy of Dias, with a pool of dark blood around him and a great black gash across his serape. Hampton turned to the rail to signal Job Warlock Then, abruptly, all the decks seemed to leap into rushing Jife, the dark figures of men came sweeping in from every side. A yell split the night, and another. Hampton felt a noose encircle his body and jerk taut, then he was dragged backward, and went down under half a dozen men who piled upon him. Fighting, kicking, struggling vainly, he was dragged across the deck. The knot cf bodies smashed into the farther rail and came to a halt; there, while they fell upon him and held him spread-eagled, Hampton had a momentary vision of what was happening at the opposite rail. The sight held him astounded, paralyzed. He saw E] Hambre there, surrounded by striking men, and Captain Garcia. Where they had come from, he had not the least idea then or afterward; but as he looked, Garcia plunged reeling across the moon- 51 light with a knife-haft protruding from his breast, and E] Hambre went down under the mob of men. The silver knife flashed once, and twice, and the Indian broke free—-then went headlong over the rail. As the others rushed to peer after him, Job Warlock came into sight, only to vanish under a flash of blue steel. This was all that Hampton saw, for now he was rolled into the scuppers with a line knotted around and around him, and a gag thrust cruelly between lips and teeth, while over him was flung ancient and reek- ing tarpaulin that closed him in foul dark- ness. He was sickened by the frightful completeness of the disaster; yet gradually, as his mind came from chaos to realization, he managed to piece together some details. Garcia had not betrayed them, for the Mexican had died there—and yet the schooner had been as a trap, vomiting un- suspected men. Whose guile had set this trap? Not that of the crafty peon spy, for he had died under the silver knife, obvi- ously. Ashe lay thus wondering, Hampton suppressed a sudden groan; around him were men stamping on the deck, voices issuing orders, the click of capstan pawls and the squeak of ungreased sheaves. Movement thrilled all the deck. The schooner was getting under way! It seemed to Hampton, as he lay there, that he heard Warlock calling him, then came a shot and another. The schooner heeled over a trifle—the fog must have been dissipated by the coming breeze. Now came a pounding of naked feet, a rush of excited voices, the rattle of oars alongside; men going down into a boat, Hampton knew. Therefore, some of that crowd abroad were going ashore. He strove des- perately, frantically, for freedom, biting at his gag, tearing at the rope which wound about him, but all in vain. When the spasm of furious despair wore itself out, he lay weak and trembling. He was alone on this schooner, a captive, and whither bound? As if in response to this thought, came the dull boom of a heavy gun from the castle, but whether in salute or alarm remained undetermined. ‘The schooner lay over more and more to the wind; the cant of deck, the rushing foam past the lee rail where he lay, the squeak and groan of straining timbers, all informed Hampton that she was close- hauled and with all sail set, doubtless running for shelter from the guns of the micloool C© in