The Argosy, August 1914 — page 52: what you’re looking at

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

42 - hours, or in four allowing for the off- shore current he would strike farther on. He should arrive at New Galilee be- tween eight and nine. Shipping the propeller ought not to be a long oper- ation. He would take advantage’ of the tail ebb to slip out of the harbor, and be well offshore before the return caught him. He figured on getting back to the island in the early after- noon. He rowed briskly, insensible to the beauties of the morning. He felt him- self on the outs with fate. Misadvan- ture dogged his heels, and the last had come through no fault of his own. Two of the trinity jessica Hooper had named—loyalty and courage—he had certainly invoked. As for skill, what chance was there for showing it when one heavy male brute sat on a fellow’s shoulders and another on his heels ? It was singular Peter Gomez had been unable to find any traces of the night’s struggle. It might have hap- pened, of course, that his assailants re- turned and, finding him departed, gathered up the gag and rope-ends which had bound him. Yet it seemed unlikely, for all they had desired was an opportunity to w ork damage to the power-boat without interference, after which they would naturally have de- parted secretly. This was the line his thoughts fol- lowed as he put behind him the miles between Barratry and New Galilee. After an hour of rowing he shucked his flannel shirt, for the sun was up and slowly broiling him. Another hour, and he stopped for a breathing spell. Then he bent to his work again, dip and pull, dip and pull, with the monotonous regularity of an engine. Three hours passed before he would permit himself to look over his shoul- der. It was a longer jaunt than he had counted on, and he had departed a lit- tle from his course, although the port was in plain sight, riding, as it seemed, on the lip of its little harbor. *~ THE ARGOSY. Another hour brought him ashore, with a freshening breeze to help against the tide, now in full ebb. He was so lucky as to find the man he sought nursing a contemplative pipe on the town dock. “Sure he can have th’ propeller,” Captain Eb declared heartily after la- bored perusal of his old friend’s note. “How're you goin’ to get it acrost, though, I’d like t’ know? ” “In the dory, of course,” Jack ex- plained. ‘ That’s the way I-came.” ‘You mean to say you’re goin’ to take that row back again, with a head wind, after comin’ twelve mile?” the old mariner exclaimed in vast surprise. ‘““That’s the program,” Jack re- plied. “Well, by mighty. Shake, young feller. You've got grit, all right. Now come up to the house with me for a bite an’ tell me how Cap’n Zed’s get- tin’ along—and his gal, Jess.” Feeling that the rest would strengthen him for the return, Jack ac- cepted the invitation. Captain Eb listened with deep interest to his tale of the depredations of the islanders. “Takes spunk for a furriner to fish off Bar’try,’ he commented at the close. ‘ But Cap’n Zed’s got it. And Jess—my, that gal’s solid spunk. So youre the young feller she fished up when she was goin’ home last time? __I heard tell about it.” It was hard to break away from the retired seaman’s hospitality. Jack was bent on setting forth, however, as soon as possible, a variety of reasons dictating such a course. He wanted to get out of the harbor before the end of the ebb tide, the wind was freshen- ing all the time, and at best it would take him one-half longer to return than it, had to come. He got under way, therefore, with many protestations of regret from Captain Eb that he was unable to com- mandeer a boat to set him across. Be- yond the bar, catching the full force of the southwest wind, he quickly real- ized he had his work cut out. S =< CORMICLO® (C@)