The Argosy, Vol. 81, No. 4 — page 97: what you’re looking at

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

Sec Z euti we ai Se sg <p om A THREE-PART._STORY—PART ONE CHAPTER I. THE CASTAWAY, HE heat of the sun on Big Twin Is- Q& land in the Caribbean had hatched out a nest of turtle eggs from their covering in the sand. Following their pri- mal instinct, the new-born turtles scam- pered toward the water, there to begin their struggle for existence. They had not gone far before they found they had to climb over an obstruction that moved'under them strangely. It was the naked breast of a man. Half- buried in the winding-sheet of the beach he.lay, more as if in death than in life. The oozy crawl of their bellies against his flesh and the gritty feel of their sandy claws roused him to the consciousness that he was faint, sun-scalded and being de- voured by a horde of huge insects. Above all and worst of all was the realization that he was alive—not dead as he had wished when he felt the last pulse of sense leave him that night. That night! His frayed mind tried to ,gather the threads of recollection that he might assure himself when that night was. Was it a week, a month, or years ago? The effort was futile. He could think of nothing, see nothing but the huge insects creeping over him. They made him quiver with a feeling of nausea. By a shuddering effort he dragged him- self to a sitting posture. Then he attempted © to raise his arms and thrust these monstrous creatures away from him. 663 They did not seem so big now, even in his glazed and feverish sight. They spread here and there, though still driving to- ward the water’s edge, before the sudden rearing-up of his massive trunk and shoul- ders. All against his will the man’s arms dropped into his lap like logs of wood. Weather-beaten and sun-blistered, he ached in every joint with a pain that made his head reel. His chin fell against his chest and he let his eyelids close for a moment, seeking relief from the daze. His helplessness affrighted him. He made an effort to cry out—not that he had any hope of being heard in this desert corner of the world, but rather to convince him- self.that he had some control of his facul- ties, that he was not doomed to be a pris- oner here on the broiling sands with that implacable stare of the blue sea before him until he went mad. The stifled shriek of his voice sounded with a kind of demoniac mockery in his ears. “Tt’s not my voice! It’s not mine!” he told himself inwardly as if to allay the horrible panic of loneliness and desolation that seemed to burden the air all about him. Abruptly he fell backward. He struggled as fiercely as he might in his enfeebled con- dition against lying down again lest he should not be able to rise. | Death he did not fear. He had even craved it when it appeared as if seeking him, but he did not want ‘to be slowly CORMICLOOOKS CO