The Argosy, Vol. 82, No. 3 — page 41: what you’re looking at

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

SHIPS OF STRIFE. he could inflict the greatest agony with the least chance of rendering his victim in- sensible. The Finn’s back and sides were streaked with livid weals and purple bruises, and blood was trickling over his skin. ‘The skipper was speaking to him in a voice repellent in its icy ferocity; the Finn’s groans were mingled with moaned denials and abject pleas for mercy. Blake’s absence from the deck had passed unnoted. His gray eyes like ice, he now walked up to the skipper; his even, passion- less voice seemed to bite into Marshall as he spoke. “Captain Marshall, this man has told you all he knows. You'll beat no more out of him.” Marshall turned to him with an oath, and drew back his right arm. But Blake’s steady eyes and unmirthful smile halted him. “Better not try it, sir,” went on the American, hearing a mutter of applause from the crew behind him, “unless you want to be jumped. The men won’t stand this kind of thing—and neither will I. Leave that Finn alone. I guaranteed his good faith, and I repeat it.” “Huh?” growled Marshall venomously. “What you know ’bout him?” “No more than you. Mind, I told you that I’d stick, and so I will; so will the men. But we won’t stick for this kind of business, cap’n. The Foster’s course was simply altered to fool you.” Perhaps Marshall noted that Blake’s hand was resting in his jacket-pocket. His scowling glance went to the mates, then swept over the sullen faces of the men at the foot of the ladder. “Take the rat for’ard,” he Sronlnd staring down the men one by one and then fetching his eyes to Blake. ‘“‘You, Dude— what you grinnin’ about?” “T’d like to have a word with you in pri- vate, sir,” smiled Blake. Marshall eyed him half suspiciously. “Come aft in an hour. I want to get dressed an’ have a cup o’ coffee ’thout any stinkin’ fo’c’s’‘le rats around.” Having thus saved his blusterous dignity, Steelfist tramped below. In the fo’c’s’le Blake ministered to the luckless Finn’s bruises in a way that brought the dog-like expression back into Ole’s watery eyes. The rest of the watch were rousing out for breakfast and had no 415 time or breath to waste, so that Ole and Blake were left severely alone. When the frightened, hysterical man was quieted down Blake sat talking with him for a little. He questioned Ole about the note-book and directions, but found that the Finn knew absolutely nothing. — The man’s affection for Mary Peabody was self-evident, however. The girl had saved him from some manner of brutality aboard the Foster, and Ole spoke of her with tears in his watery blue eyes. At eight bells Blake went on deck. The_ morning was perfect. Tiny whitecaps played at the summits of the long, even swells; a graceful roll of foamy sea curled away from the sharp stem of the ship; from horizon to zenith the blazing blue sky was flecked with woolly puffs of cloud hurrying athwart the ship’s course. Every yard of canvas bellied full from yards and stays, snoring with a deep thrum under the wind, thrusting the C. H. Mar- shall fair on her southerly course. Blake was not long in ‘getting a biuff hail from Forrester, telling him that the Old Man wanted him in the cabin. He found Marshall sitting at his table, the Chinaman hovering near. ; ‘Captain Marshall,” said Blake quietly, having long since decided on the story to be told, “you may remember that I was at Waikiki just before we sailed, and heard Captain Howard and Bingham talking over their plans?” “Bully Forrester told me all that,” grunt- ed the skipper. ‘‘What’s up?” “T’m not sure myself, sir,” smiled Blake. “But here are some figures which may mean something to you: 650 miles, south-west by south. ‘They may, of course, mean noth- ing; I’m sorry I didn’t speak of them before, however.” Marshall frowned, and sat for a moment in silence. Then, gruffly bidding the stew- ard leave the cabin, he went to a locker and unrolled a large chart on the table. “Huh!” he remarked. ‘Nothin’ on the chart there, Dude. lLeastways not that course an’ distance from Honolulu. Sure you ain’t forgot nothin’ more?” ‘“That’s all I know,” nodded Blake, with a swift sense of disappointment. After all, there had been nothing to in- dicate that the pencil-scrawl referred to the great secret. He had possibly jumped at conclusions in a most unwarranted man- ner— Go VOOKS (C@)