Argosy and Railroad Man's Magazine — page 88: what you’re looking at

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

430 doc!” he cried. “ Each man his own Chink laundry, except them that’s spliced an’ got their gals along of them. I learned this here trick over to the Gold Coast, bein’ a single man, so to speak, in them days, an’ not. contemplatin’ matrimony, That is to say, not the kind of matrimony where ye got to fork over two bucks to a preacher, an’ all that sort o’ thing. They do it fer less up to Chefoo on account of—” He paused suddenly, as if remembering himself. Cocking his square head on one side, he turned and squinted several times toward the sky. “She’s a goin’ to be a scorcher of a day, doc,” he observed sagely. “ Puts me in mind of wunst I shipped before the mast on a sail ship an’ we was beca’med, but I disremeémber if it was in the little Caymans or along nigh Trinidad. I’d hate to be out on ‘the rocks right now, like Letcher, with- out no water to swig. Here goes!” He opened the water cask we had brought and took a long drink. “Yoho! That steadies the ballast an’ sends the juice a running up into the to’- gallants to ketch every thimbleful o’ wind. But if ye stow away too much it _slops about like darty bilge. Want some, doc?” ‘“No. Better go slow on it. Letcher ‘Il need it.” : “T’m a savin’ some fer him. He’s a camel. Besides, who’s a breakin’ their backs at the oars—Letcher? Not that guy. He’s a loafin’ on the. rocks; mebbe laffin’ at us a sweatin’ over the blades, an’ “all along of him bein’ dern ass enough to lose the boat yestiddy. How he kin fool any gal is more’n I kin savvee— that four- flusher, that dung-heel!” The memory of George Letcher’s short- comings was evidently too much for him, for he tugged away viciously, and it was several minutes before he glanced round at me again and asked quizzically: “ Doc, was ye ever contemplatin’—” He slowly closed one eye in astremendous wink. “Contemplating what?” I inquired. “ Contemplatin’ matrimony, 0”. course. Them’s the words that follers along to- gether, ain’t they? Spliced side by side, jike man an’ wife. That’s lingo any man of thirty that’s sound in the dome an’ duff ARGOSY AND RAILROAD MAN’S MAGAZINE, hatch kin understand, ain’t it? Was ye ever contemplating matrimony, doc?” “Of course,” I returned frankly. “ I’ve contemplated matrimony several times in my life.” “That is to say, matrimony with a view?” “ With a view to what?” TI asked. “A view to marriage, 0’ course.” “What’s the difference? It’s all the same, isn’t it?” “ That’s as ye might think,” he replied, biting a generous chew from a large plug and shaking his head. “Some does and some don’t. Now take that dung-heel over ‘yonder to the rocks. He’s a contemplatin’ matrimony, but without no views, so to speak, to marriage. Not that I holds that up again him, gen’rally speakin’; every man’s entitled to what he kin ketch an’ salt down in his own private pickle-barrel, un- Jess his nets runs foul of another man’s who planted hisn first. “You stow away my words fer future reference. If ever he gits back to the ship alive an’ sound in the dome, he’s a goin’ to stir up trouble. So that’s the answer to that question—why, he ain’t never to git back to the ship!” 4 The unlooked-for termination of his re- marks filled me with vague uneasiness. I now noted that our boat was standing a much greater distance from the cliffs than was necessary. Mankus had done the steering, and by the time the point of the promontory became visible, fully half a league of heaving blue lay between. — I accordingly backed water with my left oar and pulled hard on my right with a view to turning inshore, but Mankus, with superior skill and greater brawn, easily counteracted my efforts. “What ye doin’, doc?” he asked ge- nially. “We got to stand off a bit longer till we kin squint along the beach an’ git a proper survey of the lay of the land, so’s not t’ run foul o’ the mutyneers.” But pres- ently he rested on his oars, and after sous- ing himself with brine, took a third Jeet ous pull at the water- cask. “Do ye know, doc, that fella Falkens is a wiz,” he observed speculatively, with more than a note of admiration in his voice. comicbooks.com