Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 91: what you’re looking at

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

KICKING TOM McGEE. - raised and struck down his lofty ship. A moment before she was ramping over the cross seas a regnant queen. Then, in the time it takes to draw a breath, she was smit- ten through every twanging shroud and stay, her maintopsail yard was gone, her rigging all awry. While the Orion seemed to pause ’twixt life and death, Captain McGee leaped for the wheel, and swung the spokes with might and main. For one agonizing moment she lay inert, then answering to her skipper’s nursing hand, she started to come up again into the wind. But what a sight was the bedraggled wretch that finally came back into her course. A moment’s glance was enough to appraise the skipper of the havoc wrought aloft. “Caught in her ball dress,” yelled the mate. ‘“ Caught unawares, and tripped for fair.” Captain McGee was completely baffled by _ this transformation of a triumphant ship, and triumphant crew, into an impotent and helpless mess. He was still nonplused when an excursion boat with a load of Water Street hoodlums passed close in under his weather poop. Leaning out of the pilot box of the excursion steamer was Battling Burke, holding out a rope and yelling: “Hi, there! Want a tow, capting?” Tom McGee’s answer was a cursing roar that must have been heard even to the citadel hill. TV, BARNEY Upcate and the other boarding house runners were picked up by the ex- cursion steamer, which celebrated their ex- ploit in becoming fashion all the way up the harbor. Kicking Tom McGee, with his dismantled ship, and his green crew, ceased cursing. After his first paroxysm, Kicking Tom was filled with silent determination as he started arduously to beat his way back to port. Battling Burke had always been an in- sufferable blowhard. After this triumph, it seemed as though he could hardly contain himself. ‘I’m top dog on Water Street, me boys, and don’t forget it. Don’t do for no blasted skipper to mix it up with me!” 717 As the picnic steamer came alongside, some one on the wharf sang out: ‘“ Where’s the Orion?” “Down by the Sambro Lightship, com- in’ home with the Cape Horn beauties. I'll bet Kicking Tom ‘ll have all them prize pippins slaughtered by the time he works his vessel back to port.” Burke broke forth again into uproarious laughter at the picture of the hated skipper beside himself with rage, struggling with his impotent seamen. On Burke’s return at the bar of. the Al- hambra there were plenty to partake of his flowing hospitality. Finally the society around his own bar becoming tame, Burke started off down the street to the Rialta as he said: “Just to rub it in to that there Music Murphy about the Cape Horn beauties.”’ The Alhambra gang came into the rival establishment, ready to clean up everything in ‘sight, but Murphy, standing behind his own bar, exercised a quieting influence. Murphy, a fallen king, nevertheless re- mained a monarch. Even Bill McGuirk, the most obstreperous, toned down before that cold gray eye. Battling Burke tried to assume a mag- nanimous mood toward his old rival. But Murphy was in no wise receptive. ‘‘ None of that stuff around here, Burke.” “Why, ain’t we friends?”’ ““'No, we never was friends, and what’s more, we never will be. I was boss of this here ward when you was working on the Blackball ferry, and I’ll be top dog here again when you’re back in the blooming scuppers.”’ Burke would have given the signal to clean up the whole works, but just at the moment Murphy was holding a stone beer bottle, a dangerous weapon of offense. Shrugging his shoulders, he led his satellites into the back room, where they sat down and ordered drinks. The atmosphere had become so tense that Bill McGuirk ob- served: “ You could almost hear the air crack.” Remembering the stone beer bottle, now hidden in Murphy’s apron, Burke slid an iron cuspidor into convenient range. At the outside bar, a number of the Rialto | EComicvooks.;co