The Argosy, Vol. 82, No. 3 — page 55: what you’re looking at

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

SHIPS OF row—you’ll be kept supplied with food and water.” Wicliff departed, and Blake resigned him- self to patience. With the next morning a body, evidently that of Bingham, was slid overboard from the Foster with scant ceremony. As the boats put out again, Blake wondered that Howard did not attempt reprisals—then saw the reason and chuckled. Long Rube Bower was in the maintop of the Marshall, armed with a rifle; since he had complete command of the Foster’s decks, it was evident that for the present a state of armed peace would ensue. Nor were there further conflicts between the boat crews, though enough of bad lan- guage and threatening overtures were ex- changed. All that day the boats swept the lagoon with lead-lines, working gradually toward the head of the lagoon where lay the false entrance, but finding nothing. Watching their progress, Blake could make out Cutlip Sullivan and Young Bos- ton in one of the Foster’s boats, while Keough seemed to be serving as bo’sun aboard Howard’s ship. Plainly, the three men were better content there than under Steelfist Marshall. Although natives appeared with food for him, Blake gained no word of Wicliff or Mary Peabody that day, save that he was to “stop along here one time—miss’nary papa all ri’! White Mary all ri’!” And so the night fell, and Blake swung into his hammock, confident that the natives were watching all that went on in the lagoon. With the next morning Forrester ap- peared in the Marshall’s rigging, his rifle holding a menace over the Foster. But still Howard seemed content to make no overt move, merely sending out his boats to con- tinue quartering the lagoon. Knowing as he did the exact location of the wreck, providing there were anything left of it, Blake kept his glasses trained with growing interest. It was plain that both crews were watching each other nar- rowly, as the boats gradually drew into the head of the lagoon, almost under Blake’s cranny. “Getting close!” thought Blake, toward noon. “If they find nothing, they’re apt to come ashore after Mary Peabody for fur- ther information. And that means trou- ble.” Eight bells rang out, and the boats re- turned for the noon meal. Half an hour STRIFE. 429 later the Marshall’s boats again put out for the north end of the lagoon. The crew of the Foster tumbled over also, but there seemed to be a delay; then the Foster’s forecastle sprang into sudden activity, her boats lined out ahead, and Blake saw that they had taken hawsers from the ship. “Found it!” he ejaculated, seizing his glasses. . “Howard’s a slick one, right enough! And he’s got the lead on Mar- shall!” As the Foster began to move in tow of her boats, those from the Marshall came racing in—Steelfist, in charge of them, evi- dently realizing that Howard had located the wreck in the course of the morning. Drive his men though he would, Steel- fist was far behind. The Marshall had barely begun to move when the John Fos- ter dropped anchor immediately opposite and just inside the false entrance of the reef. “He found it all right,” thought Blake. “That’s exactly where Wicliff said the wreck had washed over!” Steelfist Marshall crowded his ship in beside the Foster—so close that they had barely room to swing to their anchors. Almost underneath the headland as they were, everything aboard the two ships was distinct and clear to Blake; he could pick out every man aboard the Marshall by some familiar peculiarity of gait or figure. No sooner were the ships moored than there was a bustle and a glint of metal on both decks, as diving-pumps were rigged and suits made ready. Big Frank Keough went down for the Foster; and, with a feeling of helpless wrath, Blake saw Ole Kafban forced to don the antiquated harness of the Marshall. Bully Forrester took charge of the pumps, however, and Blake realized that Steelfist was no doubt trying the apparatus on the Finn with a view to sending down a better man later. Darkness put an end to the operations, however, and before. the clank of pumps had ceased both divers regained their ships safely. Since no hostilities were in evi- dence, Blake conjectured that a truce had been arranged by tacit consent; it was folly to waste men over nothing, and it would be time enough to fight when either skipper had something to fight for. Concluding that there was for the pres- ent no danger at all, Blake determined to return to the house and, possibly, go on to Go VOOlKS AMG (C@)