Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 14, 1928 — page 120: what you’re looking at

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

258 Two days later the Cape Cod dipped to the swell of the Golden Gate. Old Joshua, having been liberated from his imprisonment in the hold, had summoned a new crew, more than half of whom were experienced whale- men, and the bark had been stored for a three months’ hunt. Beyond the Gate they piled on the canvas till she went bowling down the coast, piling a smother of foam midway up her stem. Wind and weather made the blood in every man tingle, and the stays and timbers of the old whale ship vibrate as if with a new-found ecstasy. A marriage was being solemnized on board ship. The new crew, miners eager to get home whether or not they had found bonanza days in California, made a circle of jovial faces back aft. Three of them, with banjo, violin and guitar, had just finished a synco- pated version of the wedding march. A hymn had been sung. Skipper Bartlett, standing in the center of the ring, adjusted his spectacles and read from the Book. In front of him stood Priscilla and a tall handsome devil who was in frock coat, flowered vest, broadcloth trou- sers, and top boots, the bridegroom and the bride. “We are gathered together here in the sight of God,” to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony.” The canvas bellied, the wind sang jubilantly, the bow wave gurgled a symphony of joy. Sky and sea were the color of a Mexican turquoise. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. The voice rang out vibrantly, the little skipper trumpeting the glorious words to the world of glittering blue: “Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor and keep her in sickness and in health and, forsaking all others, keep thou only unto her so long as you both shall live?”’ What a paradise of sea and light! What a radiant girl, holding the hand of Adonis! Two young gods were be- ing married betwixt sea and sky! _ “In this holy estate these two per- sons present come now to be joined. If any man can say just cause why they may not lawfully be joined to- gether, let him now speak or else here- after forever hold his *e “Thar she blows!’ A voice came singing down from the crow’s nest aloft. ““ Blo-o-o-ws! Blo-o-o-o0-ws! blo-o-o-ws! Thar again!” The skipper cocked an eye over the trim of his spectacles. Where away?” “Two points off the starboard bow! Three of ’em blowin’ like the Bulls of Barney! ‘Thar again!” “Enough of this lubberly non- sense!” the skipper shouted, throwing his Book to the nearest hand. “ A dead whale or a stove boat, men! Man the main braces, hoist, and swing!” And it was not until two days later, when old Skipper Bartlett had chased and stowed down a gam of whales from Point Reyes to Santa Cruz that the solemnization of Priscilla’s new estate was perfected. Thar THE END U U u THE TRAIL’S END By FLORIA HOWE BRUESS will be next week’s complete novelette. It is a thrilling tale of the Canadian Mounted, involving a mischance which puts the captor at the mercy of his prisoner, and a climax which cannot be guessed in advance. EOPNICLOOOL< (E@)