Argosy All-Story Weekly — "Sea Marauders" — page 145: what you’re looking at

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

ioe J SF a Sig Sea aa Ea tl? Sie RE ee Ss I) a an I aN ON a Na a aN rg I Im Oat A, 8 AAT ER pen eae ae, a : PE ne a ~~ te ne mye = “ PTS atts ee 2 ae mete ee IO 2S gai Fa ay My She released the catch, waited another few minutes, and then softly, cautiously opened the door a few inches. There was nothing visible in the immediate passage. She opened the door wide enough to slip her head outside. The only light was one placed in- directly at the head of the companion- way, lighting the steps to the deck. What dim illumination this offered showed no one visible. Leaving the door ajar, and first removing her rid- ing sandals, she slipped in her stocking feet up and down the passage. She saw no one. She did not dare go past the light up the steps to the deck for fear that if any one were there she would be seen. She listened for a moment outside the door of the guest+ cabin, behind which probably was Ah Long. She could detect no sound. No light was coming through the keyhole. Possibly the Chinese was in there asleep. Cautiously she explored on into the saloon. It was very faintly lit by the light that struggled in through the ports from the stars and the thin new moon. She quickly saw there was no one in the saloon. She went on and softly opened the swinging door to the galley. It creaked a bit on its hinges and gave her a terrific fright. Her heart almost stopped beating for the moment, but she held it and recovered herself, and promptly realized that the sound was so slight that it was doubtless drowned by the throb of the engine. She pushed on into the galley, in dense darkness. Yet she felt the presence of some one. She could de- tect breathing. She waited a moment until her eyes became accustomed to the closeness of the small room. There was a small port high in it, and through this struggled a trifle of light from the stars and the new moon. Gradually she was able to see that in one corner on a pallet a Kanaka was sleeping. : HAWAIIAN HEELS. To the left wasa door. She did not know where it led. Beyond it lay the steerage. She tried the handle and turned it ever so cautiously. She thought she was doing it without mak- ing any noise. In a moment the door opened and swung inward. Fearlessly she pushed in and closed it behind her. Again she stood still. Instinct told her that she was now in the presence of several human beings. She waited while her eyes began to pick out ob- jects in the darkness, for here again there was only a single, tiny port, high in the room. She thought she saw bunks and men sleeping. Then she thought she heard a moan from one corner, and a body moving. She advanced a step. A cold, hard instrument was thrust suddenly into her chest. A hoarse voice muttered hotly in her face: “ Up with yer dukes, y’ slinkin’ nigger.” She gasped: “Oh!” and threw up - her hands. An instant later the light beyond was turned on. Its green-shaded back protected her from its full glow, but she saw clearly in front of her a crouching, stubbled, cherubic, but scowling countenance. Beneath it a menacing hand held what appeared to be a pistol with its muzzle over her heart. It was Slum Ritey. “One sound and I'll croak ye,” he muttered, for he did not yet fully realize the identity of his caller. Wearing her riding breeches, in the darkness she looked like a boy. He thought her another prowling Kanaka, but as the light fell on her red curls and her white scared face, he recognized her. In his heart he would have liked to have bound and gagged her and thrown her into the corner with the other re- cumbent figure trussed there, but this did not seem politic in the menacing presence of the common enemy. “Huh,” he muttered, “it’s you.” “ Who are you?” she gasped. “Me? I’m Slum.” AS er Ne= arn STN et eee aot <i Saeko a “