Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 19, 1924 — page 26: what you’re looking at

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

496 his feelings. He was always very quiet and courtly. No one ever heard him com- plain. ‘‘ During the summer he spent here, his second son, Rufus, had his back broken while wearing ship in a typhoon. ‘Dr. Broughton went down to pray with the stricken father, expecting to find him prostrated with grief. Instead, Captain Dunbar met him as if nothing had hap- pened. When the pastor referred to his loss, he replied: ‘I’d sooner not discuss my intimate affairs with strangers.’ That was always his style. Some thought him hard-hearted. Your father, who knew better, said he grieved terribly. But it was a part of his religion not to wear his heart _ on his sleeve. 3 ‘“ While ashore, he spent much of his time in New York, where he speculated heavily. But his luck seemed to leave him when he left the sea. When he re- tired he was reputed to have half a million. He was then in the prime of life, with a wife, and five children. ‘Iwo years later, he had lost everything. Richard alone re- mained. 7 ‘““His one hope was that this last son might enter a profession, and thus escape from the sea. But in this, as in everything else, he was disappointed. That. harum- scarum of a Richard was expelled from Harvard, during his freshman year, and be- fore his father had time to communicate with him, he had shipped before the mast on one of Derby’s vessels out of Salem. “The only time we ever heard the old gentleman complain was on account of this last disappointment. “Tt was not strange then, that with both his wealth and his family gone, Captain Dunbar should have succumbed to the lure of new fortunes being made in China tea. “Five years ago he sailed from Boston, on a new clipper, the Twilight, for Whampoa. “The Twilight was last sighted dropping her pilot in a blinding snow squall, off Boston Light. Never a word has been heard of her since then. “Of course, long ago the name of poor old Captain Dunbar was put down on the missing list. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY, ‘“ Now you tell me that his son Richard is going out on the Valkyrie. Well, that will be the last of the Dunbars.” CHAPTER X. A GIRL ON THE BEACH. ICHARD DUNBAR was in charge of \ the night watch of the Valkyrie, on the eve of the second launching. A suspicion of foul play surrounded the first false launch; this time there was to be no chance of its repetition. Hence, a doubly strong guard had been on duty since dusk. Sometime after midnight the bosun came to the first officer in foreboding manner. “ Excuse me, sir, but there’s a young leddy as wants to see yez on the lower beach. Begging yer pardon, sir, it looks kind o’ queer.. Ye ken there ain’t no tricks too dirty for ’em as wants to trip Valkyrie.” Dunbar was not alarmed. ‘‘ Who’s the young lady?” “ Didn’t give no name.” “What did she look like?” “Looked damned good to me, sir.” ‘Well, Pll go and see her anyway.” “Will I go with you, sir?” “No, Tl go alone.” ‘““ Maybe foul play, sir.” “Tl chance it.” On the far end of the beach the first officer suddenly encountered the unknown enemy, a blonde beauty in sailor suit and blue reefer. At first Dunbar was frightfully officious, but he discovered that there was something disarming in a certain smile to the accom- paniment of dimples. “Tt was very good of you, Mr. Dunbar, to climb to the main truck this afternoon to unfurl my scarlet burgee.” “So you’re Mary Williston.” “Yes. You must think that I’m terrible, coming out to meet you at this unearthly hour. But I heard that the Valkyrie was doomed; that the men who went out on her would not come back. After what I saw you do to-day, I just felt that I had to come and tell you what they are all saying.” Richard Dunbar’s answer to this plaintive appeal came in peals of laughter. It was LA EComicsdoo S (S@) S