The Argosy, Vol. 82, No. 3 — page 46: what you’re looking at

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

420 to Jack Blake as he stood there in the maintop, staring after the boat until his eyes ached with the sun-glare on the glassy water. Before him was her face, piquant, sweet, womanly— “Aloft there!” rose the raucous bellow of Long Rube Bower. “Want yer bed sent up, Dude?” Blake slid to the deck and went below. After dinner the mate resurrected an an- cient diving-suit, and set to work patching leaky pipes. Long into the afternoon the clean air was polluted by the reek of rub- ber solution. The air tubes were bent, battered, worn- out and thoroughly untrustworthy. Blake wondered what man would venture his life under water in such an outfit, and said as much to Forrester. The mate grinned evilly. “You wait an’ see, Dude!” and Forres- ter applied a foot-square patch to a torn knee of the diving-suit. ‘The skipper’s got a pleasant way with him, when he wants a thing done, and it ain’t easy to refuse, see? I guess it’s your job, too.” “You’ve got another guess coming, then,” said Blake quietly, danger in his gray eyes. 3 He had seen the Foster’s boat return without the girl, and knew that Mary Pea- body was stopping ashore. Therefore, his own problem was to get ashore also and join forces. “Listen here, Dude,’ went on Forrester, softly. “I kind o’ favor you—an’ you know why. Don’t you go to rile up the skipper. If he says to dive, you dive; I’ll handle the pumps, an’ you'll get a square deal, see?” With that, the mate strode away. There- ‘after, as though to make up for his warn- ing, he kept Blake busy on one job after another, until, in the heel of the day, a few natives were descried on the beach opposite the ships. The skipper instantly ordered the cutter dropped over. Blake ran to the falls, hoping that here was his chance to get ashore and possibly to slip into the jungle and get clear. But in this he was foiled, and by Steelfist Mar- shall himself. “You stay aboard,” ordered the skipper, laying his hand on Blake’s knee, as the lat- ter was climbing over the rail. ‘Quit work, Dude, an’ rest up. I’m goin’ to try for a couple o’ niggers to dive for me. If they can’t be got, you’ll try your hand at it in the mornin’.” THE ARGOSY. “Not in that rotten suit,” and Blake, steadily met Marshall’s eyes. “It’s rank murder, Captain Marshall! I signed ar- ticles as seaman—” “You go look at them articles,” grinned the skipper, only the merest hint of menace in his face. ‘You’re the one man I can trust, Dude, an’ you'll go down. Get me?” Disgusted, Blake went forward, lit his pipe, and sat on the knighthead, moodily staring shoreward. He saw Marshall step on the beach, while the cutter hauled off a few lengths and lay to; then the skipper vanished in the shadow of the jungle into which the natives had darted. It was plain that the girl had played into the hands of both parties by going ashore; for, with the treasure once salvaged, either Howard or Marshall would seize it and de- part, leaving her marooned and out of their way. None the less, she was for the pres- ent safe, and presumably with the mission- ary, Wicliff. Disturbed by the remembrance of Mar- shall’s grin, Blake slipped down to the fore- castle, and, for the first time, perused the copy of the articles tacked to the bulkhead under the ladder. It was a mere sheet of thick paper, eighteen inches by eleven, printed in red; but it constituted the law of the ship, beyond all appeal. Office of the U. S. Commissioner for the port of San Francisco. It is agreed between the Master and sea- men, or mariners, of the C. H. Marshall, of which Charles Marshall is at present Master, or whoever shall go for Master, now bound from the port of San Francisco to Sydney and intermediate ports. * * * “Hm!” grunted Blake, who had. been joined by Fancy Harry Lovell. ‘Looks as if this phraseology was designed to get the readers mixed up, doesn’t it?” “Well, I dunno "bout that frasey part of her,” rejoined the bo’sun doubtfully, “but I never seen no articles that was easy to un- derstand. The readin’ matter is worse mixed up than a law-shark’s writin’.” At the scale of provisions, Blake smiled; the low standard set by the law was fol- lowed by a list of substitutes left to the discretion of the master. He read aloud the clause enjoining the crew to be orderly, faithful, honest and sober, and a hoarse guffaw from the bunks answered him. Another guffaw greeted the clause for- bidding flogging and corporal punishment CORMICLOOOKS (C@)