Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 7, 1928 — page 111: what you’re looking at

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

GOLD. It would have to be a plain matter of abduction. And before that he would have to get the gold. To be wandering about the coast of California with a captive— and no money—was not an inviting prospect. The gold hoard, the girl, and a boat to sail away—that was the combina- tion. But the gold must come first. The pleasant smell of live wood coals was in his nostrils. He turned to see a shadow in the steerage doorway. The negro had returned from his errand, and was standing there, the skillet of gleaming red coals in his hand, two gleaming red dots which were his eyes, burning in his head, saliva dripping from his expectant and excited lips. He was looking at the girl. CHAPTER XXIV. CATLIKE TACTICS. WOPE. glanced down at the girl’s eyes. She was staring at that skillet of coals like a bird staring at the eyes of a snake. The mate realized that he was play- ing this trump card too soon, He must not resort to torture now. He must hold that card back and play it at the right time. Even to threaten it would mean the loss of everything. He was wise enough to know that a third degree is much slower in its rer sults than a quiet, cajoling attack. “T’m goin’ to free the old man,” he said to the girl. ‘‘ Too bad we haven’t a key to them handcuffs. But I sent Slushy for coals. Here, you, Slushy, get a hacksaw, heat the cuffs. Careful not to burn the old gent. Give the cuffs a slice or two, then squeeze *em with a vise, and they'll snap off nicely.” The girl felt a surge of enormous relief. The maddening tension broken, and the sudden fear at the sight of those coals dispelled, a sudden weak- ness swept over her whole body. She 101 sank to her knees. Swope reached for her, lifted her up. As he carried her out, the sound of her father’s voice calling, awakened her from her fainting spell. But she found herself alone with Swope in the stateroom just forward of the steerage bulkhead. It was her father’s cabin. She was sitting on the bunk, looking up into the lean, yellow face of the mate. The latter was smiling com- placently, his two buck teeth showing like the nippers of an old horse. “There now, feel better?’ He reached for the rum. “ A drink. Bet- ter steady your nerves. You just about fainted when you knew the danger was over.” She shoved away the proffered glass. “No? Then rest a minute and we'll talk it over.” He lit his pipe again, blowing thin blue smoke through the open space be- tween his teeth, | She began to collect herself. Why had he come back? What did he want of her? What had happened to his gang of mutineers? How was it that the four worst cut- - throats of them all had come back to start hell brewing again on that peace- ful and ill-starred ship? She waited, never taking her eyes from his. “T’m in a peck of trouble,” he began in a soft, modulated voice. “ Don’t look like it? Think I got everything in my hands,—sheet, tiller, and the wind sitting in the sail? Oh, no. I’m on the rocks. Everybody’s turned against me: your father, old Joshua, the mutineers, which I’ve done my best to bring back to this ship.” Priscilla knew perfectly well that he was leading up to something very care- fully. And she waited, as if ready to catch him up on the slightest slip. She was like a cat watching. He had never known those seraphic eyes to look so green, so venomous, They were like green phosphorescence burning in the alabaster face. COMIC OO <S (EO)