The Argosy, Vol. 82, No. 3 — page 24: what you’re looking at

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

398 5 they ain’t takin’ us there, see? If they lick us silly, we lose, 0’ course. If we lick them, they got to let up on the crew. They can’t put us all in irons or they couldn’t work Snip, ~ Seer”’ Blake nodded thoughtfully, appreciating this deepwater logic. The officers, in order to work ship, would have to keep hands off the crew. There might be a settling at port, and the officers might not be whipped; those chances would have to be taken. “T’m with you,” he said quietly, realizing that they looked to him to handle the ter- rible skipper. ‘‘Take care of the mates— I'll rough it with Steelfist.” “Good. the second dog-watch. Eight bells starts it.” When relieving Paddy Ryan at the helm Blake mentioned the proposed scheme. The Irishman’s wrinkled, broad face creased up earnestly. “Did the bo’sun say we’d do ’em up proper, matey?” “All hands in it, Paddy.” ; “Elegant!” grinned Paddy Ryan. ‘Then don’t be makin’ no mistake when ye slam the Ol’ Man—leave the rest to us!” When eight bells echoed along the shad- owy decks, the sound jumping from sail to sail and dying away to leeward, Blake was waiting beneath the weather poop lad- der. At the bell he saw flitting figures swarming aft, and slipped up the ladder. He reached the poop just as a crowd poured up the lee ladder, and started toward the companionway slide. Then came a_ sudden _hesitation—a silence. The poop was dark, save when the ‘ bows soared high, at which times the rising moon sent a patch of light athwart the deck. Blake looked around, saw the men halted by the mizzenmast. The moon, just above the horizon, cast a widening path of violet and gold, silver- gray and black, straight into the ship’s wake. It ruled the lee leaches of the mizzen in glaring lines of luminous light, leaving sharp contrasting shadows stretched from lee-earring to weather-clew. In that brief pause, the bows rose high on a swell, and moonlight flooded the poop; with it came the skipper, rising through the companionway. His eye caught Blake’s figure, and his snarling voice ripped through the night. “Mr. Bower! You doped— What the—” Bower, who had not seen the advancing Hang about the waist—end 0’ THE ARGOSY men, swung around with an oath. Blake paid no heed to him, but marched forward to the skipper, the men crowding behind. he want to know where this ship is go- ing, sir,” he said quietly, balancing lightly to the ‘swing of the deck, and keeping a wary eye on the skipper’s deadly right. Marshall had left the companionway. Now, seeing the men crowding around, he turned with an oath. “Forrester! Stooard! Bring your guns!” In the same breath, he swung straight for Blake’s jaw. As he slipped the blow, Blake heard a low growl and saw the lanky figure of Long Rube Bower flailing blows upon a host of foes. With a deep breath of relief and savage joy, Blake met the skipper’s rush. They were on even terms, now that he knew the secret of that steel hand; he kept clear of it carefully, sliding in and out with ma- chine-like rhythm, and shooting in stinging blows that made the skipper grunt. ° He dimly heard the rush of the mate and steward up the companionway, and a shot rang out somewhere. Then came a second low growl of maddened men, and the crew closed in on both mates and the big China- man. Cutlip, at the wheel, deserted his post and slipped into the crowd. At that in- stant Blake saw the motion; also, he saw the gleam of steel in Sullivan’s hand. A mad fear surged through him at thought of what would happen once murder was done. Desperate to get into the mélée and stop Sullivan, he turned on Marshall with a sav- age fury at this beast who had made mur- der possible. A swing of that iron hand whistled over his shoulder; with rigid arm, whirled round by the full weight of his body, Blake brought the edge of his own right hand like lightning to the skipper’s throat. The blow caught Marshall fair on his Adam’s apple. One gasp, and the skipper sank to his knees, emitting a weird sound as he half strangled under the blow. . His eyes bulged, his mouth gaped like that of a gasping codfish, and he went limp. Leaving Marshall where he lay, Blake hurled himself into the crowd of strugeling men. The Chinese steward had gone down, in- sensible under the trampling feet. Long Rube Bower had been tossed over the stern, but was towing by a line. Bully Forrester, backed against the rail, stood Gomicboo (SH (E() im