Adventure Magazine Cover, November 10, 1924 — page 167: what you’re looking at

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

Hight Seconds than Scott’s—just a shade,” cut in the cap- tain. “In the first place, I know the charts on this run by heart, fly-specks or no fly- specks; in the second place, you don’t navi- gate by chart—do your” “No, sir; I do all my work in my sight- book.” “Exactly! And so does Mr. Scott, and Mr. Tenny most of the time, I think. And I use both chart and book. And now, Mr. Tenny, what’s your idea?”’ “Time!” grunted the old mate. ‘Time! I’d gum up the time for ’em. I don’t know how I’d do it, but if I could make the chronometers faster or slower than they ought to be——”’ “Or if you could make the officers think the chronometers were faster or slower than they ought to be——” “Yes, sir! That’s it! All th’ rest—this binnacle an’ chart stuff—is poppycock! I never yet seen the man that could navigate without good time.” “You're right, Mr. Tenny,”’ said Captain Mac, giving the mate an approving nod. “You're right! It’s time. You’ve had that idea all along, and now I’m beginning to agree with you. Those ships passing to the east’ard have started me thinking. Besides, when I heard the time signal last night I also heard something else.”’ “T knew it! Cap’n,” said Tenny eagerly. “T’ll tell you later. In a little while send word to the wireless man that you want to take the time tick yourself tonight. Don’t mention me.” He lighted the cigaret that he had been holding, and leaving a cloud of smoke behind him, went into his room. “Humph!” snorted*Tenny. ‘He gets us to tell ’im all we know, then he goes off without tellin’ us anything.” That evening the sun dropped out of sight in the west and left not a trace of red behind it; nothing but a bank of low-hanging clouds with silver under-linings marked the spot where it had disappeared. “Overcast tonight, sure as guns,” dicted Mr. Tenny. At a quarter to ten he knocked at the captain’s door, put in his head and said— “T’m goin’ back now, Cap’n; do ye want to come along?”’ “Oh, no, Mr. Tenny; go right ahead.” Nevertheless, when Tenny had gone Cap- tain Mac came from his room and walked pre- Tel] us what ye heard, 165 slowly aft. He paused beneath a standing light and glanced at his watch, nodded, and made his way to the wireless shack. Keep- ing in the shadows, and walking as silently as possible over the cinders on the open deck, he passed around the wireless shack to the other side, and halted before the door- way that opened from the sleeping room upon the deck. The door was closed, and locked—as Captain Mac found by silently trying the knob with careful fingers. Kneeling, he put his ear to the keyhole. For a moment nothing; then the softly whistled notes of a hauling chantey— “Blow the Man Down.” Captain Mac smiled; then he took out his watch and tried to read its face, but couldn’t in the darkness. He again put his ear to the keyhole, and this time was re- warded with a single word—a single soft, sibilant whisper—from the man alone within— “Three!”’ The captain reached for the door knob, then caught himself and waited. Now the man within was again whistling between his teeth. Soon there came another word, so low that, had the captain not known what to expect, he would not have made it out— ¢ ‘Two!’’ More low whistling; then, when a minute had passed— ¢ ‘One | ’) The man did not whistle this time; in- stead, Captain Mac heard tense breathing. Less than a minute, and— “Ten!” murmured the man. Several seconds. “Five — half — four — half — three — half — two — half— one — half — Time!’ The word “Time!” was accompanied bya faint buzzing noise; then—silence. Captain Mac, almost at a run, circled the house and stepped into the wireless room, startling Coleman so that he dropped his phones to the floor and stared open- mouthed. ‘““Where’s the mate?” demanded the cap- tain in a whisper. “‘He—he just went forward, sir.” “Catch him, then, and give him this.” Captain Mac snatched up paper and pencil and, with his back turned to the operator, scribbled two words; then, folding the note, he thrust it into Coleman’s hand and propelled him into the darkness. CoMmicbook (© =