Argosy All-Story Weekly — "Sea Marauders" — page 150: what you’re looking at

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

ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY, ; a a toe ee ae hep » oe ty A - Fy 7 2 “ er) 7.) We + A a be Os J ae nee ‘th ta. <Q | > roan, Yds. Yo bab! SERENE a way to think of Quimby was that he was mad, as in fact perhaps he was, for there was a half-crazed wild glint in his eyes. A man accustomed to hav- ing his way, he was determined now to go through with this thing at any cost. Quimby came close to her and whis- pered, “ We can be married now by this native preacher. He can do it in one minute. What:do you say?” She glanced impudently at him. “Don’t be silly,’ was her reply. She had not noticed the Kanaka stealing along the rail. It was Mahaia, the rene- gade jockey. He came along, slinking, with a white bandage in his hands, watching for a glance from Quimby. As Rova said, “ Don’t be silly,” Quimby gave the glance to Mahaia. The jockey leaped forward, threw the bandage over Rova’s mouth, seized her arms from behind, and securely held them. She struggled in vain, but she managed to give one cry before the bandage closed her mouth. “ance!” ‘The cry rang shrilly and was cut off. Ouimby nodded to the Rev. Aloysius Quong Lee. “Come here,” he said. “ This is the wedding ceremony I want you to perform.” The half-caste looked at the strug- eling girl, still tussling with Mahaia. = But Meester Quimby, ” he objected, ‘ina wedding it ees ver necessaire that sath parties consent.” “‘ She’ll consent all right. ‘Trust me for that. You read the service, and when it’s over and you have sworn to the fact before a notary, I'll double the contribution I just handed you.” | The distressed native looked about wildly for relief. He removed his silk hat and mopped his brow. Here was a catastrophe, instead of a benefaction. “ Quickly, Mr. Lee. Pick up your Bible. Say the words.” Quimby was prodding him. The half-caste fumbled inside his Prince Albert for the Testa- ment which lay there. He looked plead- ingly back across the. waters toward Sundra as if he vainly hoped that help a ~o ~ « , - - Ss — ae * _ ° . ~ alae —— 4 am aaa x a PO poet et igre’ 2 mere Tip et gg ES me FR a < mek = eek Ot ee PS : might come from that quarter; some- thing to prevent the necessity of his being an eos instrument in this crime. Relief, however, came from the op- posite direction. It boiléd out of the companionway three steps atatime. It came in the form of Lance Houston with his six-gun in his hand—barking. He fired it twice just for exercise. The first shot went through the stovepipe hat of the Rev. Mr. Lee. The second chipped the visor of the yachting cap of Mr. Quimby, which was fortu- nately in profile so that his marksman- ship could be well evident. Lance stripped the bandage from Rova’s face and untied her hands. ‘How come?” he queried. , “Better ask Mr. Quimby.” She straightened her clothés, while she looked at Mahaia with an intense dis- gust. Quimby thought he saw a way even at this stage to absolve himself. He turned on the jockey. “ Mahaia, you criminal idiot,” he exclaimed, “‘ how did you dare attack Miss Hollins ?” Lance interposed, “ Same way he tried to dope Lightnin’, ’cause you told him to.” Quimby thought yet he could rise to the occasion. He faced Lance and said, “I’m glad to see you safe and sound, Mr. Smith. I have been offer- ing myself to save Miss Hollins from the ignominy of marrying a Chinese— Ah Long.” “* Oh, is that it?’ Lance cut in. ‘ You were tryin’ to save ’er, eh!” “Yes, she has been off alone all night on this yacht. Besides, her father is in serious financial difficulty. His estate will be saved and her reputation will be saved, only if she marries some one.’ “That's a bright idea, Mr. Quimby,” Lance drawled, “ only you mixed up the cast. I’m usually the guy that plays the leadin’ roles.” He turned to Rova, “ O’ course, I don’t know how you feel about it,’”’ he Quickly - 1 icbooks.c ‘com |