Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 7, 1928 — page 73: what you’re looking at

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

HIS SERVICE TO FOLLY. pirate vessel was a huge negro dressed in scarlet velvet and gold lace before whom the baron bowed low and ad- dressed as “My Lord of Marma- lade.” Accompanying this dandy were black men in weirdly different trap- pings of brilliant colors, who stood pompously rigid while the Lord of Marmalade asked questions under which De Banana squirmed and talked in an apologetic whine. He seemed to be having a bad half hour. Presently he led the way below, and Basil thought they were probably gone to inspect the Trelawney guns in the hold. | No one seemed to give a thought for Basil aloft, but he did not for a mo- ment relax his vigilance. Soon he saw a dark form creeping cautiously to- ward his roost. He leaned forward, his pistol cocked, when he heard the voice of Gefondo whisper: “Can swim, young master? Then try it. Pll go aleng to lead the way. And Jack Butts sends you word that he'll stand by to cover your escape.”’ Without waiting to reply, Basil shoved the pistols in his belt and fol- lowed Gefondo down to the foreyard. Out on that long spar both men crawled to the yardarm, from which Basil was sentenced to dangle when he was caught. Looking down, he saw the big blond head of Jack Butts below him at the rail. There was no moon, no light on the sea except the broken silver twinkles of reflected stars. Trelawney took a deep breath, stripped off his coat, then, folding his hands together, dropped forward in so clean a dive that he scarcely made a splash. Coming to the surface, he saw another shadowy form jump from the yardarm, and also saw Jack Butts swing a leg over the rail. But Jack was not to escape so easily. Some one had seen him, and knowing the punishment which would be meted out to the crew for allowing Butts to take French leave, and perhaps suspecting what took him overboard, a shout rang out, and a seaman leaped at Jack, but too late to halt him. The big fist of the Cornishman shot out and met sensual lips. His antago- nist sprawled on deck. Then Jack was in the sea, threshing the water like a grounded whale, as he overtook those fluttering streams of phosphorescence which marked the wake of Basil and Gefondo. “That paddler astern,” muttered the hunchback at Basil’s shoulder, “will draw their fire and prove our death. Swim under water, young mas- tér. | Basil heard shots and the whine of lead bullets overhead. He ducked his head and swam under the surface so long as he could. But the pirate crew were better cutlass hands than pistol marksmen, and the frilled light of that strange sea fire seen in tropic waters at which they aimed was far astern of the swimmers. So their bullets missed the men who churned the pretty trail. Butts, Gefondo, and Basil then swam abreast into the deeper shadow of overhanging trees on shore. They saw the lights of Cape Fran- cois farther down the coast, but the hunchback, whose commands were now obeyed, led them to the nearest point of land, for Basil was growing weary and his breath rasped in his throat. He wallowed deep and his legs dragged heavily from his hips. His arms seemed weighted like lead before the big hand of Jack Butts grabbed him and he felt the Cornishman’s shoulder heave to support his breast. “ Rest, youngster; we have all night to make shore,” he said. “And only sharks to fear,” the hunchback managed to sneer. “ Don’t play the fool or weakling now that we have reached shore.” Butts heaved Basil on his back, and, clutching the clustering curls of the boy’s head, towed a half drowned and altogether exhausted youth. In some EOPMIE MOO KS (E@)