Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 131: what you’re looking at

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

WINNIN’ WAYS down its wind-blown curtains. Bass thun- der rolled and lightning flashed, but above it all rose the shrill, mad cries of the wom- en, their sleek, wet bodies streaked and mottled with variegated hues. “Slivah, I feels lak I’s about to leave you!” Some one hurled a handful of wet sand. ““ Ain’t no doubt ‘about it—I’s on mah way! Sho’ hopes they doan try to rough- house wid me. Mah ol’ mammy learned me nevah to hit no woman—’ceptin’ she tries to steal mah money!” The seaman started. He gripped his small companion’s arm. ‘ Dog-gawn, Slivah, yondah’s mah gol’ hat ’mongst them howlin’ heathens! Uh-uuh, nevah thought that model gal was goin’ to turn against me! Nevah you mind bout tellin’ that iron bracelet woman noth- in’ at all ’bout mah ma’iage proposition! Done los’ mah relish fo’ all her kin’!” SASSAFRAS buttoned his coat and turned up his collar. ‘ So-long, Slivah!” The seaman braved the howling throng. The women closed in about him. ‘“ Look out thah, fat gal,” he shouted to the leader. “TJ hates to have to bat you down!” But words were vain. On came the women, screeching, clawing, prancing, weeping. The big man ducked his head and charged. The first ranks of his antagonist were scattered in confusion by the force of im- pact. But others rushed in blindly. A black hand clutched his tie. Another tore away his collar. Two husky amazons grap- pled with his coat tails, and the garment parted completely up the back. Butting, pushing, elbowing, squirming, the bedraggled Sassafras at length emerged beyond the mob of fighting women. His coat was gone, his shirt in streamers, one eye was closing, and his face was scratched. But in his hand he waved victoriously the goldcloth turban as he headed for the beach and plunged into the foaming surf. ~ “ Reckon I c’n make it,” he sputtered as his head came up beyond a line of break- ers and he measured the distance to the Eastern Breeze far out at anchor. ‘“ Lawd knows I ain’t much swimmah, but drownin’ WID WIMMIN. 121 can’t be no worser’n gettin’ et up by a passel of hootin’ wimmin!” He struck out vigorously. The shouting on the shore grew fainter, but the huge dark bulk of the ship seemed hopelessly far away. Sassafras splashed and_splut- tered. “TI knows I’s a turruble no ’count niggah, but effin I evah gits mah foot on boa’d that steamah I ain’t nevah, nevah goin’ asho’!” Sassafras was at the point of exhaustion when he felt-a small hand grip his shoulder. The swimmer closed his eyes. “ Lawd Gawd, they done swum out an’ got me!” He gathered strength and courage for one final effort. Kicking, squirming, swallow- ing, choking—his feet struck bottom! He stood up coughing and gazed into the anxious countenance of the faithful Sliver. Sassafras, with all his efforts, was not more than a hundred yards out on the gently shelving shore. The wizen captain of the port pulled the exhausted seaman on board the bamboo raft and paddled vigorously toward the steamer. Alongside at last, the weary Sas- safras mounted to the deck. The rain had ceased and the tropic sun shone forth in dazzling splendor. Captain Elknur was-on deck. “ Just finished loading,” he called. “ Why, what the deuce!” He stared. what that hubbub was on shore.” Sassafras grinned sadly and shook him- self. ‘ Jes’ mah winnin’ ways wid wim- min,” he bantered weakly. ‘ They-all raised a turruble ’sturbance, Mistuh Cap’n, suh, when I tol’ ’em that I’s bound to leave.” The black man’s smile grew robust and broke forth in a roar of laughter. He so- bered suddenly and, bending over the ves- sel’s side, peered down into the upturned countenance of the doleful Sliver. *“'You’ve done good work,” the skipper declared. ‘I'll see that you’re rewarded.” Vill. THE negro beamed exuberant apprecia- tion. ‘“‘ Thank yah, Mistuh Capn’n, suh— thank yah. But what I hates is to be leav- in’ po’ Slivah behin’ to git all martyrfied Commicoooks ““T wondered (S@)