The Argosy, August 1914 — page 88: what you’re looking at

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

78 Five minutes brought them close to the pound. The captain stopped again to survey the situation. Jack, leaning on his oar, could make out a darker blot against the back- eround of water and night. Sup- pressed voices reached him, together with the splashing of water and the grate of mesh drawn over a boat’s edge. The Simcoxes were deep in their work. “ Now —Iet ‘em have it!” roared Captain Zed. At the word his skiff shot ahead. Herb Mann and Jack were close be- hind. ‘The former was standing up- right, passing orders to his companion. ‘Give it to her, Jack! ’’ he shouted. “Put some muscle in it! Port oar— port—ah, there you are!” There was a tremendous crash as the dory rammed one of the Simcox fleet square. The force of the colli- sion threw Jack from his thwart and left him floundering in the bilge. He rebounded like a rubber ball. It was the matter of a second to gain his feet and spring for the bow. He found himself alone in the dory, Herb having boarded the enemy in seaman- like manner. Cries of surprise and rage arose from the rammed skiff and its neigh- bor at the other corner of the pound. These circumstances Jack recovered from his memory later. At the mo- ment his entire attention was concen- trated on joining Herb. The latter had his hands full, the two occupants of the Simcox boat having met his rush with vigorous op- position. An ever-widening gap sep- arated the skiffs. Without stopping to question whether or not he could cover it, Jack leaped. More by luck than design he made his distance. His feet landed on the sloping sides of the skiff. Its occu- pants were an intertwined mass on the floor boards, but one of them promptly disentangled himself to face the newcomer. His bulk told Jaek it was his old acquaintance, Potter. HE ARGOSY. The kind of fighting circumstances compelled was not one in which Jack excelled. He tried to plant himself for a blow. The instability of the boat forbade. There was nothing for it but to accept conditions as they ~ were, which meant the rough - and- ready wrestling in which length of - arm and brute strength gave the ad- vantage. He very presently realized that Buck Potter’s muscles deserved their repu- tation. In sheer lifting power the giant was immeasurably his superior. He sparred briefly for. a hold, his ad- versary seeking to enwrap him in his mighty grasp. Instinctively, Jack ducked, with a forward bend which brought his head to the other’s waist. At the instant ~ of feeling the foeman’s touch his arms clasped and clung in an unscientific but fairly effective buttocks clutch. A new kind of fighting, this in the dark, on the floor of a rocking skiff, under suspension of all known rules. A new kind, but Jack liked it. He pushed mightily and lifted. Buck Potter’s charge, combined with his ponderous shoulders and_ out- stretched arms, overbalanced him. For a fraction of a second he was carried fairly off his feet. Then—there was a splash, and both men were overboard, Jack holding like a bulldog. He was compelled to let go presently, however, to avoid being drowned. A skilled swimmer, he popped to the sur- face and felt for his antagonist. He could not find him. A sudden ominous silence had fallen ‘on the face of the recently disturbed waters. Expecting every instant to be called on to renew his fight, Jack made a couple of strokes this way and that with the desire to carry the war to the enemy. But Potter had vanished. “Herb!” he sputtered, blowing the water out of his mouth. “Where are-you, Jack? ’’ came the response some ten feet away. “I’ve got this feller all right. It’s Andrew Littlejohn.” COMMICLOOKS (C@