The Argosy, Vol. 82, No. 3 — page 28: what you’re looking at

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

402 THE dropped into the lazarette. He planted him- self before Blake, eyeing the latter coldly. “Feel like you could be a good little man now?” Blake, with the girl’s face before his mind’s eye, grinned slightly. “T’ve had enough strong-arm to last me quite a while, sir,” he said quietly. Marshall eyed him in evident speculation. “T will say you can fight like a bat out 0’ hell, Blake. That’s why I’m here. Got use for you. What say?” Twenty-four hours previously Blake would have set forth one and only one de- mand—to be set ashore, away from this hell-ship. Now, however, he paused re- flectively. What about that girl? “Well, sir,” he returned slowly, “I don’t quite understand. Are you going to put me ashore?”’: To his surprise, the wolfish face darted a nod at him. “Maybe. Don’t know yet. I’m not go- ing to leave you here when we sail, if that’s what you mean. But I may have a chance to use you ashore. Feel like cuttin’ up any more?” “No,” returned Blake soberly. ‘I’ve had my lesson.” Marshall rubbed his stubble of beard. “Fim! You’ve signed articles, ain’t you?” “Yes, Sir.” “Well, mind this: you can’t get away from me, not here! Try it, and you'll wish the ropes had broke when Bower towed you overboard. I’m goin’ to let you loose, an’ mebbe give you a run ashore; if you try to slip away, it’ll cost you skin an’-—” “T won’t, sir,” broke in Blake quickly. “T’ve signed articles and I’ll stay out the cruise. You can trust my word, Captain Marshall; I’m a gentleman—” “Not aboard this hooker, you ain’t! Gen- tleman—huh! There’s only one gent on this craft, remember that—and it’s me. Now, what’s caused this sudden conversion to a sense of law an’ order, my bully?” Blake caught glinting suspicion in the skipper’s gaze, and hastened to remove it. . “You spoke of money, didn’t you? If there’s a chance to see some scrapping and pull out some money, I agree to stick. Also, as I said, I’ve had my medicine and know when I’m down.” Marshall turned away with a nod of-satis- faction. Half an hour later the Chinese steward appeared and Blake was released. He found that the skipper had gone ARGOSY. ashore and that Forrester had the deck. With the sole exception of Paddy Ryan the men avoided him pointedly. Like Blake him- self, they were somewhat mystified by his release, but for all their hatred they feared him sufficiently to keep out of his way. Blake’s first move was to seek the fore- castle. If it were true that he was to go ashore that night, here was his chance to cable home at least. He found his ten-dollar gold-piece and Forrester’s revolver in the sheathing of his bunk, and promptly pock- eted the former. Then he lit his pipe and re- flected. : “Looks as if Marshall wanted to use me,” he considered. ‘Therefore he’ll let up on me in future. Forrester’s friendly, and so is Paddy Ryan. The rest are scared out. Since this ship spells deviltry for an unnamed young lady with whom I’d like to be ac- quainted, I guess I’ll stick!” He went on deck. The panorama of shipping and harbor, the majestic skyline of eternal mountains behind the town, made no impression on him. He was thinking of that girl’s face as he had seen it in the light from the post- office doorway; and he stared moodily over the water at the square-rigged ship lying just beyond the C. H. Marshall. She was the John Foster—slightly smaller, bluffer of bow, and not so clean of line as the Marshall. The two ships lay within hailing distance of each other; save for an anchor-watch, the deck of the Foster seemed deserted. Toward noon, however, two things of im- mediate interest took place. The first came in the shape of a shore boat which drew alongside the Foster’s gangway; a girl stepped down the swaying ladder into the boat. Blake, sitting on the fo’c’s’le head with Ryan, was galvanized into sudden in- terest. The sun touched the girl’s face with vivid light, bringing out each feature clear- cut as a cameo; it was The Girl beyond a doubt—the girl for whom Blake had fought on that well-remembered last night in San Francisco! “What ye starin’ at, matey?” asked Paddy Ryan. “Oh, I see—our boat’s comin’ out, eh? Steelfist ain’t in her, though.” Blake forced his eyes away from the shore boat, and turned. Sure enough, the Marshall’s boat was coming back, without the skipper. Bower was in her stern. (E(0) NOOLKS AAI (C@)