Adventure Magazine Cover, November 10, 1924 — page 171: what you’re looking at

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

Eight Seconds He could not whistle that fact away. He had done some remarkable things—had caused the navigators of the ship to think they heard something that they did not hear, caused them to think the ship was where she wasn’t, to steer for where they did not want to go, and to steam at a speed they. did not want to make—but, the fact remained, there were handcuffs on his wrists. With a gloomy shake of his head, he walked to the forward port and looked out. Dawn had broke, and there was a pink tinge to the eastern sky. The wind was still steady and strong and from the same, direction—northeast. He could not see Watling from this port, but he knew the island was now off the starboard quarter, and that the Hawk would soon swing to starboard and head south for Crooked Island Passage. Just forward of the storeroom there was a whaleboat hanging from its davits, and the stern inboard gunwale of the boat was about five feet above Breen’s eyes as he looked out the port. Over the gunwale of the boat protruded the end of a boat- hook, and the boat-hook was rattling so from the vibration of the ship that it drew Breen’s attention. ‘“——— thing’ll be fallin’ out of there and stickin’ in somebody’s coconut,”’ said Breen; and then, like a streak of light, there flashed into his head an idea. He stood for a moment, his head on one side and one eye closed, whistling softly, considering the thing; then, baring his teeth. ‘““That’s it!” he cried; ‘“—— me, yes, that’s the thing’ll do the trick yet!” Quickly he went to the after port, and looked out. On deck, about four feet aft of the storeroom, there was a coil of eight-inch Manila hawser, one of the ship’s mooring lines, coiled nearly three feet high on a wooden grating, and lashed securely to ring-bolts in the deck so that waves break- Ing over would not carry it off. It was a half-coil, sixty fathoms long and weighing over eight hundred pounds. Breen grinned as he looked at it. The storeroom in which Breen was con- fined was one used for deck stores. It was crowded with shackles, eye-bolts, ring- bolts, cargo-hooks; swabs, scrubbers, empty paint pots; marline spikes, fids and coils of small line. Breen rummaged about in a box till he found a rusty spoke-shave, 169 nodded, and bringing the spoke-shave sharply down upon the edge of the box, broke it in two. The edge of the spoke- shave was not sharp, but it was rough, just the thing for cutting rope; better, in fact, than a knife with a razor edge would have been. Discarding one half, he took the other to a coil of fifteen-thread line and cut off several fathoms. At one end of the line he made a running bowline, and with the quickly fashioned lasso in his hand, went to the forward port, beneath the whale- boat. The after decks were clear, though Breen could see Mr. Tenny standing on the bridge and looking ahead. He put out one arm, with the running noose, as far as the chain between his wrists would allow him, and held the rest of the line coiled lightly in his other hand. He swung the noose and cast it upward, toward the boat-hook; but missed, and hauled it in. Four times he missed, but at the fifth attempt the noose settled over the metal end of the boat- hook. He flipped it down, jerked it taut, then, after a cautious look about the decks, jerked the hook out of the boat. It fell with a clatter to the deck, but an instant later had disappeared through the port- hole. With a fathom of marline he bound the half of the spoke-shave to the metal end of the boat-hook, making what resembled an enormous pruning knife. This he put out the after port, hooked it under a part of the small line that held the hawser to the deck, and pulled. The rough edge of the spoke-shave cut the lashing so easily that he almost went over backward. He did likewise to another part, and another, cutting around the big coil until it was free of lashing; then he took in the boat- hook and knocked off the spoke-shave. Now he went to each of the ports in turn, put out his head and searched the sea for a ship or ships that might come to. the Hawk’s assistance. There was no ship in sight, though there was a smudge of smoke on the northern horizon. This he studied for a moment, then, with a shake of his head, muttered that it could not be helped, and that he would have to take the chance, and returned to the after port. Watling Island and the reef that skirted it, he saw, were now Straight down the wind from the Hawk; and he saw by the ship’s wake that she was. now making the turn that weuld CoOMmicbook © =