Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 111: what you’re looking at

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

THE LADY FROM MACASSAR. by and cut the water. They were crowd- ing the rail now, the polyglot swarm be- tween decks, and staring curiously at a streak of white that clove the seas toward the frantically struggling child. But none followed. The Malaysian is a supreme fa- talist. There was a ringing of bells below, the ship’s screw churned the brine in re- verse. A boat was lowered. Puddlewhit did not look at the swimmer. His éyes leaped from wave to wave in sick- ening anticipation. Suddenly they became riveted on a black triangle that appeared for a moment and vanished again, then re- appeared, much nearer. The shark, dread scourge of tropic seas, was heading for its prey. “Hurry!” he gasped hoarsely to those in the boat. The mother guessed. With a shriek even more heartrending than the first, she threw Puddlewhit aside with a superhuman effort and sprang like a cat on the rail. But there were others now to intervene. Personally they were probably not interested whether the woman drowned herself, but since Pud- dlewhit desired to prevent it, they were eager to please him. They pulled her down despite her struggles and held her. “It’s Teema,” Puddlewhit gasped, catch- ing sight of the swimmer’s face as he came up at length with the boy in his arms. The shark was only .a couple of boat- lengths away. The boat was more than thrice that distance. Teema saw his peril or guessed it from the roar that rose from the ship, a cry of warning voiced in a score of tongues and dialects. He promptly dived. The shark followed. A moment later —Teema’s head reappeared, with the shark close to him. “Let go the calf and save thyself,” a burly Kling standing next to Puddlewhit shouted. The little man struck him in the face. Mercifully the mother did not hear. She stood rigid as a statue in the grip of those who held her, suffering the agony of a thou- sand deaths as she watched the dreadful game of hide and seek. Teema dived again with the child. The black fin vanished. ‘Then the breathless observers on the vessel saw Teema and the 745 child rise just beyond the shark’s snout. It had missed again. Meanwhile the boat had gained a length. Again the dreadful game of tag was re- peated. Once more Teema and the child escaped, and the frantic mother exhaled a shuddering gasp. But Teema was tiring. He had barely avoided the shark in the last rush, and the boat was still too far distant to be of help. He cast a despairing glance toward it, then, releasing the child, dived directly at the great fish, whirling on the surface. But the sacrifice was not required. One of the sailors in the approaching boat was an old whaler, and amused himself at times spear- ing sharks. He had his weapon, an old harpoon, with him, and as the shark turned, showing his belly, drove it deep into the brute’s vitals. The shark plunged, carrying harpoon and line with it. Teema, with quick pres- ence of mind, dived for the child. Willing hands hauled them aboard, while the sailor pulled in his line as the great fish returned to the surface, belly up. Other sharks were gathering. The boat returned to the ship, leaving the jackals of the sea to their feast. Teema and the child were hoisted to the deck. Teema appeared on the verge of ex- haustion. The boy was spewing water. Ocean bred, the misadventure had meant no more than a ducking to him. His live- liest emotion was a fear of punishment. The mother snatched the boy hungrily from Teema’s arms and pressed him to her bosom. Teema turned swiftly to glide away, but Puddlewhit, divining his intent, caught his arm and restrained him. “Wait!” he said. ‘‘She will want to thank you.” The mother’s eyes lifted and met those of her son’s rescuer. But the words of thanks that rose to her lips were left un- uttered. The glow of gratefulness that suf- fused her cheeks vanished swiftly as she scanned his features and observed the tell- tale pale yellow of his skin, the pronounced cheek bones, the slant eyes. “ Peranakan tjina!” she gasped shudder- ingly, like one who has come upon a leper. Catching the child to her breast, she turned swiftly and vanished in the crowd. Commicoooks (c@