The Argosy, Vol. 82, No. 3 — page 35: what you’re looking at

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

SHIPS OF STRIFE. Out from the harbor the metallic clank of windlass pawls shattered the night, and sharp commands snapped out from the darkness. ‘The mate cursed fluently. The sounds ceased, however, and as the riding-lights of the two ships remained steady, Forrester’s curses ceased. also. Howard’s ship was evidently waiting for something or somebody. When her anchor was broken out her riding-light would come down, and side-lights would show in her fore-rigging. So her crew must still be ashore, in part. “Marshall ahoy!” rang out a thick voice near the kegs. ‘‘Vot vas—”’ ‘“Rube’s gettin’ ’em,” snapped the mate, leaping up. A dark figure stumbled down toward the water, and disclosed itself as that same Dutchman who had been hung by the thumbs to the sheerpole one morning for commiserating Blake’s tortures. The Dutchman was drunk, and Forrester ran him to a waiting native, who tossed him aboard and set out for the ships. Barely had the mate rejoined Blake, when a second figure appeared, with a grunting hail. “Von Foster! Hey, Yon Foster boat!” Without a word Forrester leaped for- ward, caught the speaker, and swung him toward the light of the dock lamps. Then even Jack Blake allowed a grin to escape him. The man carried a small leather suit- case. He was dressed as only a Finn fore- mast hand knows how to dress for shore leave—hard felt hat, gray-and-red neck muffler, and shrieking hand-me-down. suit, pressed by rolling into a ball and jamming into a tarpaulin bag. He teetered on high heeled shoes that would have taxed the ability of a cowboy to the limit. “Hey, you!” demanded Forrester rough- ly. “Where ye bound? What ye doin’ with that suit-case?”’ “T bring from Waikiki, sir,’ stammered the Finn, nervously. “I tek to Miss Peb- body in Yon Foster—she give me big call down for come late. I go ’board—” ‘““Gawd’s own luck!” breathed the mate, hoarsely. Like a cat he flung himself badily upon the seaman. The Finn had taken warning and ducked away; only to trip over his - high heels, however, and the next instant Forrester was on him. “Ow! ? 409 The agonized cry broke from the Finn as the mate’s heavy boot landed in his ribs. He crashed headlong to the planking. There came a thud of boots stumbling down the wharf, and Forrester whirled on Blake with a sudden snarl. ‘What you standin’ there for like a fool spike? Don’t,stare questions—jump! Get them men into the boats, you idiot!” Blake obeyed. ~He realized instantly that this Finn, having been sent to the hotel for the girl’s suit-case, must be a man to be trusted, either by Howard or by the girl herself. Therefore he would be a good source of information. Three men appeared, dazed with drink, and Blake ran them down to the waiting native boats. Then came Paddy Ryan, and after him Long Rube Bower, cursing like a fiend. ‘“‘Ain’t another man in sight,” he cried profanely. ‘The rest must.ha’ gone up to the Punch Bowl an’ fallen in—” “Cutlip Sullivan and young Boston went up to Mongovan’s place, sir,” spoke up Paddy Ryan. “Big Frank Keough’s drunk in that bar by the Institute—”’ “Go get ’em,”’ blazed out Forrester, turn- ing savagely on the second mate. ‘An’ stay till ye do get ’em, see? Come on, Dude— pile in!” 7 Blake jumped into the boat with Paddy Ryan, the mate, and the senseless Finn, and they were rowed out to the ship. On the way, they passed the Foster, and in a whisper Forrester explained his strategy. “IT got them native boys to bring out everybody to the Marshall—see? If any o’ the Foster’s crowd is ashore, they come to us.” ‘“They’re probably all aboard,” returned Blake. ‘Howard must have been waiting for this Finn.” “He'll wait till hell freezes over then!” They found Steelfist Charley stalking the deck in fuming rage. To avoid the immi- nent outburst of wrath, Bully Forrester promptly brought forward his prisoner and explained what had taken place. Meantime, Blake secured the girl’s suit- case and smuggled it into the fo’c’s’‘le. To think of that suit-case being pawed over by Marshall and Forrester revolted him. Be- sides, it might contain private information which would be of service to him. -_ “Guess I’m some angel guardian, eh,” he thought with a chuckle. He dropped the suit-case into the chain- COMMICLOO® S (C@