Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 7, 1928 — page 67: what you’re looking at

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

) HIS recalled the scratch on his ankle from his sword the night before. “ Still, water will wash away even the marks of blundering. No doubt it would swell this dimple in your deck planks.”’ He was in a reckless mood. The scene of the night and cabin left no triumph in his heart. He now carried a greater trouble than ever in his life. For hours he had lain awake, think- ing of what De Banana had said; of Violette de Tourraine arriving in San- to Domingo, and the painting of her face on ivory in the possession of this scoundrel, as well as the fact that her hand was promised to him by the black emperor. At first Trelawney felt a wild desire to kill the baron and for all time end the nightmare of this menace for Vio- lette. Then wisdom prevailed. To kill De Banana would be like pulling off one leg of a crab; another would grow in its place. Or, like killing a serpent to release a brood of vipers it had swallowed. Basil had sense enough to know that Henri Christophe would have many other tools to reward for villainous services, and if they were of the same mettle as this pirate captain, it seemed to the boy that the only way to serve Violette would be to pluck her bodily from such danger. Or, failing that, send her sweet soul to heaven and fol- low after. Perhaps she was already on Santo Domingo shores, while he was on the high seas. Tossing on his couch, brushing the curls from his forehead, seeking to silence the myriad tongues of fear which whispered of terrible things that might befall the girl he loved, Basil came to see that this ar- rangement to marry her to De Banana might be, after all, a circumstance that would keep her from being wedded to other minions of Henri Christophe. Promised to De Banana, she would not be molested by other unwelcome suitors until the return of Le Diable SERVICE TG FOLLY. ST Noir, carrying Trelawney as well as the baron. Basil had traveled in France and Italy and even into the German states, but he knew nothing of the island of Santo Domingo. He thought it would appear like other countries, with cities and towns, and a king’s palace where he might seek admittance and gain the ear of the emperor. Kings and rulers, he knew, were un- stable persons on whom to place hope. But he meant to see the court of Henri Christophe, gain a sight of Violette and warn her of perils, then take her by force, if necessary, and take ship for France or England. He had also a plan to demand from Henri Christophe the price of the T're- lawney cannon. Caring little enough for gold, he had that lofty impertinence of youth that would demand the com- pletion of high-handed bargaining. He meant to return in triumph, prove his valor, and in some measure justify that adventure which began when he ran away to sea, a stowaway in the Al- batross. There was no humility or even modesty in Basil Trelawney. But he did not misunderstand the meaning of the marlinespike stabbing the deck at his feet. It had not been a blunder except in missing its mark. He would need to watch closely or be killed. Owing to milder weather prevailing as Le Diable Noir neared tropic waters, the parrot belonging to Gordo-the- Butt and named after Emperor Chris- tophe, had ventured on deck and climbed to the top of the deck house. There, it spread its wings and preened its feathers with its cruel, curved beak, then cursed comically in three languages. ‘There were several parrots on board, pets of the crew, but “Emperor Cliristophe ” was the oldest, the most battle-scarred of plumage, and much the cleverest talker. “Carramba!” it croaked. “Damn my eyes! Sacré mon Dieu! Donnesz- mot, un verre de sangre!” Gomichbooks (E@)