Adventure Magazine Cover — page 107: what you’re looking at

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

Treasure oilskin. It was thrown over her head and about her like a cloak. She was pleasant to him, thanked him ‘so ver’ much!”’, smiled brilliantly. “How many more?” Heddon asked. “Could’ve taken four but for this box. Only two now. She’s pretty rough!”’ “Call that rough!’”’ said Old Tom scorn- fully. “That’s a c’am sea, m’ boy!” said Old Bill. Young Mr. Blake lost a part of his temper and said nasty things to both the old shell- backs who looked down upon him with in- terested expressions. It was oddly unlike a rescue at sea. Denasso was the next to go. He had run down into the pantry and brought the box containing his opium layout. As this was held easily under his arm, Mr. Blake frowned at it but made no objections. “You next, Jack. And listen,’’ Heddon said quickly in alow tone. ‘Keep near that snake box when you get on board—unlock the lid. Stand by to dump that thing out on deck the minute the fight starts. Under- stand?” The thrust forward that Heddon gave him shook the boy’s head so that he nodded, but not willingly. He wanted to stand and protest, argue about it; remembered too that here was a chance to tell Heddon who that Chink was; but Heddon pushed him away. Raeburn jumped down into the boat, and the impulsive Mr. Blake swore at him. They shoved off. “Ah,” said Madame to Mr. Blake, “you are so ver’ young man to be so mooch ze hero an’ save us all! Marveelous!”’ II HE Jack-Girvihad stumbled on the schooner by sheer luck. The night before Walscher and some of his friends had been playing poker on board the bark. One of these 105 friends was a man to whom he hoped to sell an unprofitable coconut plantation at Kuplico, an island two hundred miles to the south; and, if the weather moderated, he intended to sail at dawn. He had supplies on board for the Kuplico men, but most of all he hoped that he had a man who would buy the plantation. The magistrate some time after midnight had worked himself out of his lashings, or else Mrs. Davies had taken pity on her hus- band and released him. Getting out some servants and a cart—he was too fat to walk, too heavy for the back of an island pony— he had gone blundering about in the rain and darkness, indignantly awakening peo- ple to tell of the outrage. Word had been brought out to the bark, where the poker game was broken up in talk of Heddon; and the guess was that he would never be seen again anywhere near Lianfo. The schooner had fled in the darkness, and in what direction no one knew. Walscher had gone to bed too drunk to remember to give orders to his captain not to sail if the weather was rough; and as his captain, a man named Scott, had been a South Sea trader and rather liked dirty weather, particularly with Walscher on board, since it made him seasick and kept him out of sight, Captain Scott had gone out of the harbor as soon as it was light enough to see the way. A lookout sighted the Dragon. Walscher was shaken into life and told that a wreck lay ahead. Heand his companion, the one to whom he hoped to sell the plantation, strengthened their stom- achs with brandy and came on deck. Walscher greeted his returning boat with the shout of— “‘Where’s that —— Heddon?” “These were all we could bring this trip, sir,” Mr. Blake called up. Beside Walscher’s was a brown hard face, that of Captain Scott. The face of another man near by was puffed, blousy, fatuous; he was the planter going to look at Wal- scher’s coconut land. “Better send away another boat if we’re to get all those fellows off before noon,” said Captain Scott. “That is, unless you don’t want to leave us short-handed.” Captain Scott had no other thought in mind than squally weather; but Walscher, who had never been complimented for his bravery by other than bottle companions, and by them only when half drunk, shouted. COnniclboooks (©