The Argosy, April 1912 — page 38: what you’re looking at

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

24 THE ARGOSY. Captain Smith, cursing him, reviling him, threatening him with eyes and fists and half-drawn blades. The mastership that blazed in his little eyes had for once no effect on his followers. The fury of the tempest that was bearing down upon them was so terrible as to make mere mortal’s rage seem a puny thing. Like hungry lions about a man who sleeps at a dying jungle-fire, they edged closer and closer, and more menacingly to- ward the fearless but powerless captain. In another moment, I think, the rush would have come—a rush that might have torn him limb from limb. But with a roar like that of a thousand pieces of artillery, the storm broke over us. It struck the ship as with the buffet of a huge fist. Over she careened, so sharply as to fling every one in a kicking, struggling jumble to the deck. It was every one for himself. The waves swept the deck below the break before the ship could right herself again. Had the crew been five seconds less prompt in their | work with the sails we must have turned turtle. Then pandemonium broke loose. The light of day was blotted out. Our ears were half deafened. The cordage sang like harp-strings. One seaman was blown out of the top rigging like a fly from a wall. Men’s yelling voices were inaudible in the uproar. The spume made everything invisible/at a distance of a yard or so. The ship shook and shivered and groaned like some sea-monster in anguish. From one side of the deck to the other we were tossed until the narrow decking-space was a shapeless mass of twisting, grotesquely writhing humanity. In a few minutes the first force of the storm spent itself. The gale passed. But it was only the precursor of a three-day tempest, before which our three baremasted ships scudded impotently. Hatches were battened down, and we were herded most of the time between decks like cattle. It was not pleasant. The air was vibrant with prayers, groans, and curses. On the fourth morning the storm had somewhat abated, and we crawled on deck again. We could not see either of our sister ships anywhere. The shipmaster ordered part of the can- vas set and headed for the Canary Isles, where it had been arranged we should all meet in case our vessels should ever be scat- tered by a tempest. In reply to an idle query, our shipmaster said: “T dare not crowd more canvas on. We are not at the end of the.storm. This is but a lull.” That was enough. Men glanced blankly at one another. Then the bulk of the pas- sengers and several of the crew moved as by common consent toward the stern, and there they huddled for a time in eager, low- voiced converse. I can read men a bit. That is why I am still alive. And if ever I read trouble, ’twas at that moment. I understood in part what the conversation portended. There was but one course for a decent man. I walked into the cabin, where I found Captain John Smith hard at work over a roll of maps and charts that he had spread out on the table. He glanced up as I approached. “I am altering these,” the said, too full of zeal to recall our cold relations one to- ward another. “ Virginia now extends from the Atlantic to the Pacific and from New France settlement in Canada, down to the Spanish Floridas. It is in my mind to split it into two colonies, north and south, and to rename the northern one. Not to name it after a king who may die and be forgot, but after our own grand fatherland that can never be forgot. What think you, man, of christening the northern colony ‘ New Eng- land?’ Is not the idea a worthy one?” “Pardon!” I broke in impatiently, able for the first time now to stem the current of his enthusiastic speech; “but if, instead of naming colonies that may never exist, you will look to your own welfare, you are like to live the longer. Come!” “What do you mean?” he asked, angry at the interruption, yet seeing me to be in deep earnest. “Get your sword first and put on your helmet and breastplate,” I answered. “Do it without delay. Afterward there will be time to question me.” It was characteristic of the man that he waited to ask no further questions. He went to the wall and snatched down his sword and helmet. Then, beckoning to Aquia, who had stood stolidly in one corner of the cabin gazing out at the clump of whispering men, Smith ordered the Indian to help him fasten on the heavy, dented breastplate. I talked briefly and to the point while these preparations went for- ward. “The crisis has come,” I said. ‘ These COmuicbooolkks LC) CO