Argosy All-Story Weekly, November 12, 1927 — page 90: what you’re looking at

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

564 _ He stands still the beam of his hand torch dropped to the floor, makin’ a wabbly kind 0’ ring. Pretty soon he looks around tous. We've been watchin’ silent. “He’s up by now, and righto I hope. Drain tube. Close sluice door.” “Very good, lieutenant,” the captain re- marks, ‘Serve a double rum all around, cox’un.”’ Most times there’s a lot o’ lip between the men when the captain stands treat around, raggin’ about the girls that come to base and a thing or two like that. But just now we does our drinkin’ quiet. Captain’s thinkin’ too, and figures on a signal pad. We're o’ the same mind, countin’ up to about when we ought to hear from Sandy, or know he stopped on the way. It’s four o’clock. He’s got two miles to go if his legs don’t go shovin’ him in a circle. Give him an hour ashore and he'll have word to the base. If base gets a move on, not wastin’ time lookin’ for ablebodies elsewise than at White Horse, they'll be over us by eight. If Slattery’s sound signals ain’t clear dead by that time he’ll pick up anything from right over. Or they’ll send down a diver to give us a neighborly tap in the ribs. “ About seven o’clock, or eight maybe, don’t you figure it, first cox’un?” I suggests. “'Thereabouts, second, if and as,” he agrees. ‘ What’s your hurry? Ain’t you seen enough 0’ daylight yet?” “Don’t want ’em comin’ ’round on the night watch,” I corrects him. “TI hates to be disturbed.” The first keeps his eye peeled on the gauge. Nothin’ else much to do, outside 0’ waitin’. She’s settlin’ slow, foot now and then, but she keeps at it, irritatin’.. Why I go for’ard, I don’t know. Might as well o’ been aft. But for’ard it is, and I comes up sharp. More trouble, and this time it’s hard-all! I throw my light to the captain and he gives me his salute, but he sees my face. “ Quick, man, speak low. What is it?” “Chlorine, sir. Leak in the battery compartment for’ard.” He takes a step. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. “ Careful, sir,’ I begs him, but he gets a sniff and throws up his arm. “Leaking everywhere,” he mutters. “Jt'll strain through the ship. Lively, second. Tell the lieutenant to get every- body aft—after compartment. No batteries there.” I lose mighty little time givin’ the lieuten- ant the captain’s orders. And ablebodied, one 0’ the kids, hears me and lets out a yelp. ‘Gawd help us! We'll be gassed in a jiffy.” He starts to blubber and I biffs him, but the lieutenant throws his arm over the kid’s shoulder while he calls out: ‘“‘ Chlorine for’ard, men. All aft. Go into after compartment. On the double, lads.”’ The kid starts yelpin’ again, about some- body left alone account o’ his goin’ away for keeps, and I starts for him hard, panics bein’ out o’ regulations whether the here- after’s comin’ up head-on or not. The lieutenant saves him again, shuttin’ him up with soft stuff. 3 “Steady, my boy. Ship’s company going along with you, wherever. Service o’ the king, you know.” Sort o’ braces the kid. He splutters: ‘“ Aye, aye, sir. Service o’ the king.” Everybody’s aft, around first cox’un, who’s pushin’ on the after compartment door, same as I had trouble with when I banged it after we was struck with the bloater up above. I look around for the captain because 0’ that sniff o’ gas he got, and I see he’s stopped at radio, where signals is sittin’ at his key. ' I stand by. Signals is sayin’: “‘ Key’s tremblin’, sir. Somebody near trying to get us, I think. Maybe I can pick it up. Stick to station, sir.”’ “Get aft with the men,” the captain orders him, abrupt. “I'll have a look at the key.” He turns on me, but I say, firm: “ Stand by you, sir. Secoad cox’un’s post.” “Damn key trying to give us something,” he murmurs. “Maybe Sandy’s reached ’em ashore,” I ventures. He watches shiverin’ key, but I see he’s — staggerin’ on his feet, and I catch him. (€(0) DOOKS mie (E@)