The Argosy, Vol. 82, No. 3 — page 26: what you’re looking at

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

400 Mark this, Dude—Steelfist is goin’ to cut loose, an’ if he goes to beat us up or put the bracelets on us, there’ll be murder an’ ye won’t stop it.” “You think he won’t let the thing drop?” “Who—him?e Mebbe he will, Dude, mebbe he will. If he does, Gawd help ye! I’m your friend, but there’s mighty few more.” Blake did not understand this at all, but came, to a fuller comprehension that same evening. And when he did, he saw that Paddy Ryan had been a wise prophet. All through the first dog-watch, the old hands sniffed at the wind, pointed out the increasing frequency with which the long swells broke into froth, and peered under the sharp of a hand at a low, ragged white vapor down in the western quadrant of the heaving circle of sea. As the skipper ap- peared on deck after supper, Forrester let out a bellow. “Muster aft, all hands!” Muttering, conjecturing, growling doubt- fully, the fo’c’s’le rats trooped along the main deck and clustered at the break of the poop. Leaning on the rail, the skipper and both mates regarded the seamen keenly. Blake stood at one side, with Paddy Ryan and the bo’sun. ‘Wondering why you haven’t all been flaked; I s’pose?”’ began the steely voice of Marshall, his wolfish eyes resting on Blake. “T’ll tell you. It ain’t too late yet to put you through the hoops for that piece o’ fun you had. But I got better work for fine men 0’ spirit like you; if you’re all of a mind I may forget that night—it’s up to you.” With this prelude, Marshall took a turn aft and peeped at the compass. Then he re- sumed, after a long look ahead. “Wanted to know where I’m bound for, didn’t you, Mister Blake?” The sarcasm in his cold voice boded trouble. ‘“That’s up to you too, men. Under that cloud ahead is Oahu—Makapuu Point. If you say so, you'll see Honolulu to-morrow. There’s a ship in there that’s after something which belongs to me. Now, you're all first-class fighting men, ain’t you?” The two mates broke into a hoarse laugh. The men below shifted uneasily. “Tf you want to row in with me an’ help get what’s mine anyway, you can have all the fightin’ you want without murderin’ your officers. You’ll stand a chance 0’ put- tin’ a wad of money in your belts to boot.” THE ARGOSY. Marshall paused. Fancy Harry stepped to the front, boldly enough. “Tell us the hoodle, cap’n. Some o’ your games ain’t healthy.” The skipper’s eyes glinted, and hard wrinkles played about his thin lips. “My games ain’t healthy for the man who queers them, Lovell. You can stay out if you’re scared. Because you may get cold feet, I'll not say where we’re bound for till we leave Diamond Head behind, but this I will say. There’s bout half a ton o’ coin belonging to me that’s sunk in a lagoon not a million miles from here, and I’m after it. It ain’t a secret, and others is after it too. That’s why I want you bold lads to row in with me.” “What if we don’t, sir?” growled Cutlip Sullivan. “Just this, my bully. There’s a fine jail in Honolulu. Get me?” It was evident that the men “got” him. There was a little rumble of voices, Blake being patently disregarded. Looking up, Blake saw the eyes of the skipper fastened on him with a venomous intensity. “Well, bullies—what’s the answer?” “We're in, cap’n,” cried Sullivan. “But we ain’t goin’ to pull with the Dude—he’s a welsher, he is!” The skipper slipped a hand into his pocket. Too late, Blake was mindful of the revolver which he had hidden in a cranny of his fo’c’s’le bunk along with his gold piece. “Right and proper!” snapped Marshall. “Lay into him, bullies, and tie him up! The lazarette’s open!” Before Blake quite sensed that trouble was on him, Long Rube Bower had vaulted over the rail and borne him down. Forrester and Sullivan joined in on the instant; Blake was overpowered, crushed to the deck, and trussed up. Five minutes later he lay in the stuffy little store-room beneath the cabin, the sting of Marshall’s kicks still on his ribs. CHAPTER V. FOOL OR KNIGHT? S at a tremendous distance, Blake heard the ship’s bell clang faintly. Eight bells—then one—two—three— then four bells, ten o’clock at night. Im- mediately after the last stroke the sounds of shortening sail came down to him, and JOOKS (E©) MAI (E@)