Argosy All-Story Weekly, November 12, 1927 — page 87: what you’re looking at

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

WHEN THE S-12 WENT DOWN. thankful that she’s hangin’ where she is and not restin’ on the bottom by this time.”’ It’s “Aye, aye, sir,” in our minds, whether we says it or not. “Very good, so far, men. But it won’t do, Can’t last. Too much water in her for’ard. We can hold out like this for per- haps twelve hours, possibly eighteen. By then, { don’t know. Meanwhile I'll have to shut off smoking.” He pauses, his eyes still scrutinizin’ us, queer like. Sandy mutters to me out the corner o’ his mouth: “ Fancy us, Slim, promisin’ to be home by six sharp. Won’t Bella hold an inquiry, though, what with the rabbit both expired and mortified?” I’d ’a clipped him one wasn’t it for those steady eyes o’ the captain’s. Or may- be I wouldn’t of, I don’t know. Captain’s talkin’: “We've a right to hope that the ship that struck us will report hitting an ob- struction. The oil I pumped out will make patches on the surface. We can hope it will attract attention from passing vessels. There’s a chance. But we mustn’t depend upon our hopes. We must take action.” When he stops we know he’s puttin’ somethin’ up to us. _ “ Aye, aye, sir,” says the men, chorus like. Some of ’em adds: “ Good old cap- tain!” “Thank you, men. There are some dec- orations that even the king can’t bestow. Now, Ill ask you, my lads, to come to attention and listen sharp.” “‘ Ship’s company, attention!” orders the lieutenant and we snaps into it. The cap- tain stands straight, now, and speaks brisk. “For the plan I have I require but one man. I shall not ask for volunteers. I[ know there isn’t a man of you who’d stand back. So I shall leave the matter in the hands of the one who is ‘closer ‘to you, perhaps, than any of the rest of us. He’s one of your own, besides. Second cox’un, stand by.” What the— Blimey! If it isn’t me the captain’s callin’ up. Me, Slim, called up like that account o’ the captain’s plan for the savin’ o’ the blasted blighters from the fix we’re in. a: 6A 561 “ Aye, aye, sir,” I tries to say while I’m steppin’ up, but I’m that blowed I gur- gles. Captam never turns a hair. ““ Second cox’un,” says he, “ I’ve thought of blowing a man out of the conning tower, but have decided it’s too dangerous. Afraid he’d foul on the bridge fittings. I’ve chosen the torpedo tubes instead. The pressure at this depth is about twenty pounds. There’s a good chance of a man’s living and coming out at the surface con- scious, despite the speed with which he'll go up. “‘ {f he doesn’t, he’ll know when he starts that he’s making the only try for his fellows and we'll know that he tried for us. I'll not say any more, for we'll need all the energy we can save. I leave it to you. You will pick the man. Take over, second cox’un!” Take over, indeed! A feather would have knocked me flat, I’m that ‘uncertain on my feet. It’s. the lieutenant who brings me to when he comes over and says to me, coaxy like: “ ll take an order from you, second cox’un, if you'll give it to me.” “Sorry,” I gives him, standin’ to the rights the captain hands me; “men woulda’t like it, sir.” Signals passes me on his way back to his Morse key, which is pretty near dead on him. He pokes me. “Sharp old captain, we have,” he says. “Picked you because you'll slip into the tube easy. So little of you atween fore and aft.” - That’s account 0’ me bein’ slender, he says that, and I slugs him one. Sure, the captain knew I’d be pickin’ nobody else but myself. First time I get proper con- solation out 0’ bein’ called Slim. The able bodies come crowdin’ around, every last jack of ’em, with argument as why they’d be better on the get-there than me. Some of ’em take offense that I’d choose myself just because the captain gives me leave. I sees none o’ their arguments, none at all, and I puts ’em in their places, neat, remindin’ ’em I’m second cox’un and they'll speak accordin’ to regulations, which is when they’re spoken to. Comicbooks (E()