All-Story Weekly, Vol. 112, No. 1 — page 81: what you’re looking at

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

of May 22. One will appear in each of our issues throughout the summer months. While each story is complete in itself, all are concerned with the adventures of that likable blackguard, Captain Teach—descendent of the notorious pirate Blackbeard—and charming Mary Anncliffe. | HE first of C. J. Cutcliffe Hyne’s series of stories detailing the adventures of ** Teach: Pirate De Luxe,” was printed in the ALL-STory WEEKLY, issue VII—BEAUTY AND THE BEAST HE boat was flung dizzily up on the top of a wave-crest, with the spin- drift slicing over her gunwales, and -then sank with a sickening swoop inte the next sea valley. ' A slop of dirty water swished backward and forward in her interior, carrying with it bits of a broken floor-grating, and a baling can, and three straw bottle cases. A gorgeous silver sunset balanced stead- ily over the uneasy water ahead, or at least it was silver on Cambridge blue, with French gray fitments. The man in the boat, who was an architect by trade, ad- mired this sunset between spasms of sea- sickness. The view astern was blocked in with an assortment of purples, slashed by one streak of lurid red. It seemed incredibly threatening. He was a nervous man, and he knew that some- where behind him was the dark and threat- ening Captain Teach he had escaped from. The sunset ahead changed. The silver 91 went. The grays increased; dove grays, French grays, lurid grays; and some of the clouds began to mottle with golds and yel- lows. Astern the purples darkened, and the distant boom of a gun bumped through them dully. Astern, ‘too, the wave tips were neatly gilded by the afterglow, and sug; gested to his scared mind smoldering flames. The man was no sailor, but—solely with the idea of escaping from the neighborhood of Teach—he had got the whale-boat’s mast stepped, and a jib, the only sail he could find, hoisted. He sheeted it slackly, and the jib flopped about as it pleased. Steering with an oar was beyond him. So the boat automatically kept the wind aft and got away to the westward on a reason- able course. Just as the sunset died—without that opalescent warning one is used to in more northern latitudes—and the tropical night snapped down, the whale-boat rose on one MICLOOO® SS C©