Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 124: what you’re looking at

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

980 “Ain’t no doubt about that, old gel!” Dorset grunted. ‘‘ Now you can see how I gets treated. The leavin’s—that’s orl. Nothin’ more. Same story every time, s’help me! But I won’t be put upon—not me! That ’arf-breed bullied me aht of my Share, more’n once. But he won’t do it again, strike me dead if he will. Old Wing he’s a sharp one, too—but he don’t bother me. Minds his business. Too old to bully me. All he cares for is to lay his bloody ole ’ooks on his share. Counts the pen- nies. Never bothers me. It’s this thing on the floor, and—” he lowered his voice malignantly—‘and McCorkle.” ~The girl was still studying that miserable face. “ Why is it that all men are afraid of him—this Monsieur McCorkle?—this drunken marauder?” _ “There you ’ave it!” Dorset exclaimed. ** Marauder—drunk—that’s wot! And we all cower before his swank like puppies! Gave me a hell of a flip under the lug a while back. Left me aboard to have a go wiv the blahsted ghosts in the swamp! ‘That’s the way he treats me, while he goes after the swag. Then here I am again— a-watchin’ of you wimin, and that pile of refuse over there in the corner a-nursin’ of his wound—and them two coves tied up there. That’s wot I gits. But I won’t be put upon—not me—lI’ll turn one of these days, you can jolly well lay to that, me gel! One of these days Dorset’s goin’ to turn.” > “Turn now—and I will help you,” the girl said softly. ' Dorset looked at her and laughed hide- ously. “I suppose you'll be arskin’ me for me gun next—ay, wot?” “No, no! I could not touch a gun. Could Jacqueline handle a gun with these fingers?” She held her palm out—and he seemed momentarily fascinated. It was a beautiful thing—particularly when the soft transparent skin with its inner flame of coursing blood, was compared with gun- metal. afraid of this great bully of yours.” _ “ Well damn me for a pie-can!”’ Dorset burst out, “if you think you can shame me—lI guess not! I’m scairt stiff of the ole growlin’ rozzer. Makes me shiver in every bone of me body! And he’s just “At least Jacqueline herself is not’ ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. abaht broke every bone in me body—wot with his kicks!” “You are a slave, monsieur. not an Englishman.”’ “Orl right. I’m a slave!” “‘ But you are free from this man—” she pointed to Parson—“ who persecuted you.” ‘“¢T damn well know it!” | “Tf McCorkle had fallen in that duel—” she suggested. Dorset’s eyes kindled. ‘“‘ Yuss. That would have been a bit of orl right! Either way I won. If McCorkle was aht of the way—” He lost himself a moment in con- templation. | “Would you be a serf any longer, on- sieur?”” “T guess not! We’d arrange these here jobs to suit ourselves—Wing and me. He’s ° a sharp ’un. The two of us could git rich. This old bleeder, McCorkle, wants to sit dahn and make it a jubilee—when he goes on a maraudin’ expedition. Done it afore this—many a time. Likes to git the gels together—and the liquor. Goes in to rob a ‘7ouse and his mind wanders—imagines he’s in a pub. Look at how he’s acted here to- night. We’d have had this job finished— ~ arf an hour ago—if Wing and me managed it. I’d have stuck a knife into them two coves there,’”’ he pointed to Cameron and Tim, “cast them into the bayou, then stripped the ’ouse. ‘The lydies? Oh, yuss! © Id have drunk your ’ealth and said good- evening. I’m a gentleman when it comes to that!” ‘“‘ Ah, monsieur, that is the truth.. Be- lieve what Jacqueline confesses, monsieur. I will tell you everything—my innermost feelings. ‘To what end shall I dissemble? You understand my wishes—my fears. Yes, I want you to raise your hand against this monster whom you fear as I do. This Monsieur McCorkle will harm a defense- less woman. You, a gentleman, an English- man, will not. I fear him, but I do not fear | you. All women, you think, are liars—but why should I lie in this? I fear him, I hate him, I want to see him dead at my feet. When he comes in to claim me—and attempts this horrible thing which he calls a pirate wedding—TI shall still make a pre- You are tense before him. I shall smile unon_him,