Adventure Magazine Cover, March 20, 1925 — page 170: what you’re looking at

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

152 feet, and hung with only the whites of his eyes showing in a pasty face. Willett kicked loose his hands. “— you, you took your eye off the com- pass!” he swore out of the corner of his mouth and whirled the wheel down to star- board. Inconsequentially he wondered what things were like in the engine-room. Men flung in- to the machinery though the engines were still turning over. He hoped they’d keep way on the ship. There was a chance, if they could, that he might swing her head around if the next sea didn’t clean them out! Little seas usually followed a grayback like that. He hoped so. Back the Sachem rolled, slow and lifeless beneath the burden of water on her deck. Back; and down, down, deep to port. But not so far. Braced against the wheel, Willett peered to read the fate of the ship in the compass card. If her head could be swung from west, through south, to east, if she could meet the sea bows on, he’d win yet. Something was wrong with the compass. The gimbals should have kept the card level no matter if the ship had stood on its head, but instead the compass was still canted at an impossible angle to starboard, though the ship was heeled far in the opposite direc- tion to port. Half the spherical brass bowl usually concealed by the binnacle case was visible. A sticky gray protuberance on the bottom of it was wedged against the bronze ring of the gimbal. Willett pulled away the obstruction with his forefinger. It was hot from the electric lamp and stuck to his finger until he wiped it clear against the corduroy collar of his oilskins. The com- pass swung into place. It showed the ship heading southeast. He was making it, then. Simultaneously came a gasp of triumph from Young and a shouted imprecation from Schwartz. Young scrambled to his feet and threw his arms around the captain’s neck, dragging him from the wheel. Schwartz flung himself headlong from the top of the slanted deck against the detective’s knees, knocking all three sprawling into the lee of the charthouse. Young was crying with excitement and allowing Schwartz to swing short-arm jabs into his face without an at- tempt to protect himself, so intent was he in clawing at Willett’s collar. The three Adventure tangled figures rolled twice from wall to wall. One mate hurled himself on the pile, throttling Schwartz, the other had reached the whee! and still held it hard over. As the ship steadied itself on the new course, head into the sea, and began to pitch on an even keel, Young gave a squeal of joy and broke away from the struggling group. “T’ve got it!” he screamed. “Sink my ship, will you?” panted Willett, and swung a wild blow at the detective’s head. The latter ducked and twisted out of reach of Schwartz’s clutching hand. ‘Hold him. He’s under arrest,’ the de- tective breathlessly ordered the mate, re- treating before the enraged captain until his back was against the wall. “I’ve seen the emerald,” he repeated. ‘‘You’ve turned my ship to junk, that’s what you’ve done. .A man at the wheel has no business to see anything,” snarled the skipper, but he stopped none the less. “What do you mean, emerald?” he growled. “It was stuck on the under side of the compass in a wad of chewing gum,” the detective explained rapidly. “We never would have found it if the ship hadn’t yawed and rolled. Schwartz knew that I’d never think of turning the compass upside down, with a man in front of it all the time trying to steer by it. That roll was worth a thou- sand dollars to you, Captain,” he crowed, “and it shows the customs can’t be fooled by the cleverest smuggler out of jail.’”’ Deliberately Captain Willett spat on the deck at Young’s feet and stared at the ex- cited little man until the flush of triumph receded from the thin pointed features and the detective stood bewildered and abashed, nervously rubbing the chewing gum from the emerald with the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. “I suppose you’re proud of yourself for finding that gewgaw?” the captain de- manded. The detective nodded. “You filthy landlubber! And for that you'd risk drowning ship and crew!’’ re- torted Willett from between clenched teeth, and, turning on his heel, he strode aft to superintend the clearing of the wreckage from the deck of his ship. COnniclaoe (©