The Argosy, Vol. 82, No. 3 — page 36: what you’re looking at

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

410 locker where he, as ordinary seaman, would be the first man sent when getting up anchor. Then he returned on deck to find a different atmosphere. Steelfist seemed to have sloughed his rage. His grim face was a mesh of grinning wrinkles, and he glared over the rail at the Foster’s riding-light as if enjoying the im- patience that must be consuming the rival skipper at the non-arrival of the Finn. Almost together, eight bells clanged out from the two ships. But still the John Foster floated idly, her topsails hanging in the buntlines, and her jib-boom a raffle of loosed headsails. From the Marshall Blake could make out the glimmer of Bingham’s lantern on the fo’c’s’le-head, and as her riding-light swung to her heave it cast vagrant gleams on the men at the windlass brakes. One bell, and two bells, and a shore boat pulled alongside with more of the Mar- shall’s errant crew. Still the Foster swung to her shortened cable, and Steelfist chuckled more. audibly at each passing mo- ment. Boat after boat sheered alongside, until all the crew but Cutlip Sullivan, young Boston, and Big Frank Keough were ac- counted for. Long Rube was working hard, and as the Foster showed no signs of life Marshall sent the men below to sleep or to stand by for an early call. Blake went with the rest, certain now that Howard would not slip away from Steelfist Marshall that night at least. He had just got asleep when he was roused up by a sharp dig in the ribs. “Hey, Dude! Wake up, you grampus— this is the mate talkin’ to you!”’ “Eh? Yes, sir!” Blake swung up at once, “‘Where’s that suit-case the Finn had?” Blake stared sleepily, with an excellent air of surprise. The dim fo’c’s’le resounded with full-bodied snores. “The Finn had it, sir,” he replied. “He must have dropped it when you piled on him.” “Vou fat-headed sojer, 0’ course he did!” Forrester heaved up with an air of disgust. “Tf he don’t say nothin’ about it, you needn’t, see? The Ol’ Man would be sore as blazes—no use goin’ back to look for it now.” ° “All right, sir,” responded Blake, and rolled over to sleep with an inward chuckle. _ At five in the morning the hands were turned out, and the usual ship’s business ‘turned Blake. THE ARGOSY. was_ put in progress. Opposite, the John Foster swung to her anchor still. Blake found that the three seamen were still missing, and so was Long Rube Bower. Steelfist had not yet appeared on deck, but at six o’clock the mate came forward after getting his coffee and opened the sail room where the hapless Finn had been con- fined during the night. Blake was plying the squeegee when For- rester passed, and felt a wave of loathing as the mate flung him a grin of cold cruelty. “The Finn’s goin’ to talk now,” said Forrester, leering. “Steelfist’s got some- thin’ aft that’ll cure his dumbness!”’ “You won’t get much out of him, sir,” re- “What there was to know was*probably in that suit-case. You don’t suppose the Dutchman knows anything about it?” he added, suddenly. The mate paused at the locker door. ““Cripes, yes!” he exclaimed. “I'll go see that big Dutchman.” He walked back along the waist to where the Dutchman was working. Blake swiftly slipped to the door of the locker. “Hey, you Finn!” he said quickly. “If you can stick it out, don’t fell them any- thing! I’ve got the suit-case safe—I’m Miss Peabody’s friend, savvy?” The Finn stared wildly at him. He was lashed fast on top of a pile of sails, and his eyes were red with lack of sleep. He seemed to take heart at Blake’s words. “Tank ju,” he muttered. “It don’t mek no differ. If Miss Pebbody know I not come, she can sail quick.” “Tl attend to that.” Blake nodded, one eye on the mate. He resumed his work, speaking over his shoul- der the while. ‘When you cross the poop I'll hail the Foster. You throw up your arms or make a stir—they’ll see you. Maybe Steelfist will forget you in his hurry to follow. Savvy that?” “Va,” returned the Finn. Blake, satisfied that he had set matters going well, walked away to put up his squeegee asthe mate returned with a shake of the head. Forrester marched the luckless Finn aft, having unbound him. Blake hurried from the bo’sun’s locker and followed, while the rest of the crew gathered to watch proceed- ings. As the captive reached the poop, Blake let out a laughing hail. EOPMICLOOOLKS (©)