Argosy All-Story Weekly, May 5, 1928 — page 93: what you’re looking at

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

RED of mist at first, then damp and heavy, hanging like white curtains around the barge. In an hour it was impossible to see the barge directly ahead, but they heard the boom of the horn upon the tug, and the shriller whistles of the other tows * CHAPTER XX. WO MEN OVERBOARD. UPPER consisted of the abomina- ble stew of the night before, but they ate it at the table in the saloon from soup plates and in company of the captain. “T thought the skipper stayed on the bridge during a fog,” said Chip- munk. ‘“So he does if it’s a ship,” replied the captain. ‘‘ This is a barge. There ain’t nothing I can do. I keep the lights burning bright, and the horn going, but the other feller has to look out for us; we're helpless.” “ That’s a nice lookout,” murmured Chipmunk. “Were you ever in a collision?” Les asked. The man nodded. that got cut in two by a liner. Their boats picked us up. It was a bright night, too, and no excuse for not see- ing us, but I guess the officer on the bridge was full of hop.” “ Nice lookout,” Chip repeated. “The tug toots three times, telling ships to watch for a tow of three barges. Mostly there ain’t any acci- dents. You fellers want to sleep down below to-night? Them berths are better than the crew’s quarters for- ward.” “Ves, thanks,” said Les. “ But we would like to stay up until we are sleepy.” ~“Tt’s all right with me,” agreed the skipper. ‘‘ So long as you don’t try to make trouble I'll treat ye right.” “Voure a regular guy,” grinned Chipmunk ingratiatingly. 3 ‘Was on a barge | 659 ‘Sure that’s me, Captain Jim Wil- kins. Treat me right, and I’ll treat you right,” “What’s the name of this barge, captain?” asked Les casually. He had not discovered the name of the craft, though he had looked about him. “No name. Just a number. Barge 314, Golden Oil Company. I call her Geranium, ‘cause she smells so sweet. Don’t mind tellin’ yer, because you can't do nothing about it.” The skipper finished his supper, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, went into his cabin, and returned wearing a sou’west coat and a rubber cap, nodded to his guests, and went HOT. cd out on deck. After a little while they ° followed him. . Neither had an overcoat, and the fog was almost as damp as rain. They could make the skipper out dimly, standing at his station on top of the deckhouse. Every half minute the fog horn moaned from the bow. The more powerful blast of the steam whistle of the tug usually drowned it out. The two youths thrust their hands in their trousers pockets and turned up their collars. “A little of this is enough,” Lester observed. “‘ Let’s get back in the cab- in, it’s warm anyway.” “T call this an adventure,” protest- ed Arthur. “‘ We’re cold because we’re standing still. Let’s walk up to the bow along that footbridge. It ought to be an experience.” He felt his way to the narrow pas- sageway, followed by Lester, and they ventured forth. The fog was so thick that the captain was not aware they had gone exploring,, in fact they could not see an arm’s length ahead of them. The barge was about three hundred feet long, but the journey from stern to stem seemed to be a quarter of a mile. They grew colder and more wet and less interested in their goal as they progressed, but they persevered and Gomichbooks (E©)