Adventure Magazine Cover, November 10, 1924 — page 165: what you’re looking at

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

Eight Seconds delivered his message he watched the opera- tor closely. ‘‘Cap’n Mac said to tell you he’s coming back tonight to take the time tick himself.”’ “‘Wha-what?” gasped Coleman. His shoulders dropped, his chest fell, and he slumped forward with his mouth hanging weakly open and his eyelids flickering. “What?” he asked again in a tiny, weak voice that could barely be heard above the distant pound and clank of the ship’s engine. “Captain Mac’s going to take tonight’s time tick himself. He’ll be back here fifteen minutes before— Say, what’s the matter— you’re going all to pieces again!” “‘Nothing—nothing. Only—only I don’t feel well. I—I feel sick.” He snatcheda ring of keys from his pocket and fumbled eagerly with them; then a hopeless expression came to his face and he let them fall from his jumping fingers. ‘You had better turn in for a while,” advised Tommy, stepping out the door. “Maybe I will,’ answered Coleman, his lower lip between his teeth and his thin hands convulsively gripping the arms of the chair. ‘Maybe I will.” “You'd better,” and Tommy went toward the bridge. The door behind Coleman opened noise- lessly, and colorless eyes, set deep above high, swarthy cheek-bones and beneath pro- truding brows, gazed contemptuously down at the operator, still huddled in his chair. “Yes, you’d better turn in—for all the use you are, you nitwit! ‘You’d better get on the job and do something, that’s what you'd better do! Or—look here—”’ He took a flat brass key from his pocket and held it an inch from Coleman’s nose—“or over the side. it goes! Look at it, feel it, smell it, you brainless monkey! And that’s all you’ll eyer do if you don’t snap out of your hop and do something!” He wrenched the key from Coleman’s clawing fingers and returned it to his et. ‘“‘Show some brain work, now, useless, or I’ll have you crawlin’ around on your knees with your tongue hangin’ out a fathom!” ‘“‘How did ’e take it?’’ inquired old Tenny, when Tommy told him that the message was delivered. “Turned green and pretty near fell off his seat.” “T told ye! I told ye!” and he nodded knowingly. 163 That night at a quarter to ten Captain Mac and Tenny, the latter carrying the ~ hack chronometer by its strap, entered the wireless shack. The mate placed the in- strument carefully on the table and turned his faded old eyes accusingly on Coleman. “Let us know when you catch the stand by, Coleman,” said Captain Mac, producing the “makings” and beginning to roll a cigaret. “Yes, sir.” Coleman’s color had returned and there was a sparkle in his eyes; his expression was one of relief, with a mixture of hope and suspense. He stopped the wireless motor and ad- justed his phones, then he leaned forward in his chair and his thin fingers played with the dials before him. His lower lip was sucked in between his teeth and a nerve in his neck was jumping wildly. “There’s the stand by now, sir,”’ he said after a while. “If you’ll put—put on the phones, sir——” “Thank you,” said the captain, and he took the headpiece from the Other and slipped it on his head. | “Do you hear it, sir?” ¢ ‘Ves.”’ “Ts it clear, sir?’’? A tremulous note in his voice. ‘“‘Ves—clearer than I ever heard it be- fore.” “Oh—that’s because of the weather, sir. The weather’s very good for receiving now, sir. And we’re not so very far south yet. It ought to come in good and strong for another day or so yet, if the weather - “Shut up!” barked Mr. Tenny. “Yes,” agreed Captain Mac, a curious light in his eye as he watched Coleman’s face; ‘‘the final stand-by has gone.”’ Tenny bent over the chronometer; Cap- tain Mac held up his hand and listened attentively. : “‘Time!”’ he said sharply. The mate scribbled the chronometer read- ing on a pad; multiplied, added and sub- tracted; then shook his head sourly. “Well?” asked the captain, putting down the phones. Tenny grunted something unintelligible, and began to work his problem over. “How about it?” demanded Captain Mac, impatiently, as the mate jotted down the sum for the second time. _ The mate, a disgruntled look on his Comicbook (© =