Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 34: what you’re looking at

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

660 they throw themselves into the sea, it ees better for them than to be the subjects of Juana, their new queen!” ‘““ Damned if I ever knew a jury rig could change @ woman as you're changed! Go easy or you'll have them knifing each other to pieces before eight bells. TLe old skipper will plug a hole through any man that smiles at you! Take my word for it. The mate will lick the very deck you walk on! Go on, Senorita Jezebel! Go down! Breed war! Make men kiil themselves at the sound of your voice like the sirens! You are the witch of Hy Brazil! You are the haunting lady of the North Sea! You're Zaza of Cairo! Zowie!” She swept out of the room like a dream vanishing into the darkness. The boats- wain followed, and then as she came into the shaft of light which struck up through the stair well he was again reminded of the velvet moths. She had been a crawling worm, but now she was arisen with wings. She had flut- tered out of the sea chest like a butterily from its cocoon—like a fury from the box of Pandora. Jove had created a woman and sent her down to destroy mankind. As Tom Yarre saw the girl walk down the adobe steps, her train sweeping in the dust, he held his breath as if expecting at any moment the start of a battle. “ Tf the old stoker who gave us that chest is still drifting back to his home, as the sea tradition goes, I reckon there’s a merry light hovering over the water where his body is. He’s laughing, if a dead man ever laughed, and what he said about that chest is a prophecy, if a sweating stoker ever proph- esied on sea or land.” From the top of the stairs Tom Yarre looked down to the mess of steamy flesh in the dance hall to watch the effect of Juana’s entrance. By this time a large crowd of water front characters had gathered. Bargeman and docker, crimp and scouse, dance girl and sea cook stared, gaping at the sight of a bare foot treading lightly in the shadows with a glint twinkling succinct- ly on the legends of a silver anklet. “ What. new dancing girl was this?” they cried, thinking perhaps that Herzog had imporied some South American solo dancer ARGOSY-ALLSTORY . WEEKLY. to perform fantastic guaracha. And whose rau foot was this emerging from the dark? “A’slender ankle, the soft, trans- parent brown curving exquisitely toward the gorgeous scarlet folds which the girl held slightly lifted. It could be no dancer— but a guest—some fine lady from a ship in port! Captain Jarvy stood up, his gray, bushy brows lowered over red eyes. Here was the sort of woman he had searched for in every harbor! Whatever intention he had had of leaving the tavern, he made up his mind now, aiter one glance, to stay. And the mate, too, decided to stay no matter what danger beset him! His eye fol- lowed the gorgeous spectacle of that red- draped robe upward to the tight-fitting bodice, and the arms where silver bracelets glittered against warm olive. Mr. Jarvy would willingly have given all the condors and pesos he possessed to kiss those arms. Tom Yarre saw the two officers of his ship react to the picture that he had painted. “They took what was worthless out of that sea chest ”—he laughed - triumphant- ly—‘ and gave me everything! Now we'll see what old Rob Hawkins, the dead stoker, will do!” Cora, the innkeeper’s wife, was the first one to cross the floor and meet Juana. Still burning with the humiliation of her meeting with the guest from equatorial America she was eager to find out whether she was los- ing her sway over the inhabitants of the Sundown Café. “The nerve! The insolence of the hussy!”’ she cried. ‘ Get into the kitchen where you belong or I'll box your ears for you!” “Sure, get along with you, you little Mex!” Herzog added. “The guests are waiting for some service!” Cora stopped, her fists doubled, her eyes blazing with resentment, hatred, jealousy, and then with a peculiar fear. What was this apparition? What new intangible and dreadful power did this scullion maid from the kitchen possess? The upraised arm was poised undecided, impotent. A feeling of awe overcame the flabby, painted woman —she was like a servant, or rather, a slave in the presence of her queen. COnmmiclboooks (C@