Adventure Magazine Cover, November 10, 1924 — page 157: what you’re looking at

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

Eight Seconds He paused, gasped for breath, and again raised the pitcher to his mouth. The boat- Swain, a cockney, stepped to the man’s side, put out a restraining hand and said: ‘Ere, now, myte, ye’ll myke yerself —— well sick if yer don’t slow up.” “Get ’way!” snarled the man, drawing back his lips fiercely. “I’ve been two days in a boat without water. Plenty o’ fog —— it, yes; but no water!” Again the water gurgled noisily down his throat. Mr. Tenny, the chief mate, came from *midship. “Ye look like ye been havin’ kind of a tough time of it,” he said to the man. “How long ye been out there?”’ “Two days.” “How'd it happen?” _ The man set the pitcher beside him on he hatch, but kept tight hold of it with one hand. He looked at the mate from under long bristly eyebrows and his nose, broken and slewed over to one side, twitched like a cat’s. He closed one eye and pursed his lips, and softly whistled a few notes of a hauling chantey. A patch of puckered white skin on his forehead stood out in strange contrast above his mahogany face. “How'd it happen? Well, I’ll tell you,” he said at last, with a nod and a peculiar sidewise tilt of his head. ‘You see, two days ago I left the—” He paused; then shot out quickly—“Did you see the name on the boat?” “Ves— Sabine.” é¢ Ah!?? For some seconds he sat turning some- thing over in his mind; then he nodded, and went on: “Yeah—the Sabine. Well, two days ago I left the Sabine and tried for land, in that boat you saw. Less than three miles off shore, we were, but fog—whew! Couldn’t see the peak of my cap through it. I had a good bearing and started out with an easterly wind at my back; but I lost an oar, and while I was paddling around trying to find it, the wind must have shifted. I had no compass—left the yacht in what you might call a hurry, you see. I found the oar all right, but I’ve been pulling around in the fog ever since. That’s all.” He put the pitcher again to his mouth and began to drink. “‘But what did ye want to leave your ship for?” asked Mr. Tenny. 155 The man merely looked at him with one eye around the uptilted pitcher. At length he set the pitcher down, and water dripped from the corners of his mouth and glistened on his pelt-like chest. “Ship’s the Hawk, eh?” he said, ignoring the mate’s question. ‘‘Yeah. Saw it on the bow. Out of New York? And for where?” __ “Port-au-Prince and Cristobal. But why did you leave th’ Sabine, I asked ye?” “Port-au-Prince, eh?” ruminated the man, paying not the slightest attention to Mr. Tenny. ‘And Cristobal. The Hawk/ Well!” “T ask ye——”’ ‘““What’s your name?” countered the man. “Tenny,” answered the mate, surprized. “Right. Mr. Tenny—shut up! You found me in a boat and my name is—” he paused—“Brown. That’s all you need know.” ee Mr. Tenny swung about and went toward the bridge, to make his report to the cap- tain. Brown left the hatch and strolled aft. Reaching the ladder that led upward to the wireless room and the operator’s sleeping quarters, he paused; then, with a very thoughtful look on his brown face, and a wrinkling of the skin of his nose, he went up. Captain Mac shook his head as Mr. Tenny complainingly told him of the inter- view with Brown. “‘What’s the difference who he is or where he comes from or why?” he said when the irate mate finished. Then to the second mate, “Mister Scott, call the wireless operator to the bridge.” The second mate spoke into the tele- phone that connected the bridge with the wireless shack, and a few minutes later the operator came shuffling along the boat deck from aft. ae The operator’s name was Coleman. He was a young man with an old face and shifty eyes that were sometimes sparkling and sometimes dull. His body was frail; his chest was narrow and he seemed continually gasping for breath. Now there was a look of worry upon his thin, white face. He halted respectfully at a short distance till the captain motioned him to advance. “Coleman, get in touch with the Bing- hampion, coast guard cutter, and tell the master we’ve picked up the man they were looking for. If he wants him, tell him we’ll steam slow till they overtake us. Got it?” COMICOOlks. Con