The Argosy, Vol. 82, No. 3 — page 59: what you’re looking at

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

SHIPS OF STRIFE. and reported a moment later that all was steady. Only the ceaseless grind of the pumps was heard, as all hands watched the water, fascinated. “Gawd a’mighty!” burst from Howard. “Look at that!” Between the two ships had risen a sud- den seething whirl of water, followed by a burst of air-bubbles. A furious tug wrenched the lines from Howard’s fingers, then came more bubbles bursting into froth on the surface. : “Pull, you fools!” yelled Blake sharply, seizing the lines. Howard aided him, white-faced. Three, four, six fathoms of slack came in, then came a curled snarl—and the end of both lines, slashed off sharp. As Blake realized what must have hap- pened, a hail sounded from the other ship, and Steelfist Marshall appeared at her rail, his black mop of hair emerging from his diving suit. “Send down another one to-morrow!” came the savage taunt. “Send the Dude, an’ Boston, an’ Sullivan, blast ye! Send yer whole blasted crew, Howard, an’ come yerself!” And with a laugh Steelfist vanished from sight. Blake shuddered, and turned away. There was no use sending another man for Keough, even had another been willing to go. Big Frank was dead—had died when those bubbles came frothing to the surface, for these diving suits had no emergency valves. Howard sprang to the rail, revolver in had, but no one was in sight aboard the Marshall. Then the maddened skipper be- gan to curse, until even his waterfront sweepings shivered at the torrent of blas- phemy that poured from him. With hand aloft, Howard called heaven to witness his vow of revenge—a vow that included the C. H. Marshall and every soul aboard her. From the Marshall’s decks volleyed a chorus of ribald merriment that ate into Howard’s soul like acid into soft iron. “Laugh, you condemned cut-throats!” he screamed. “Laugh yer fill! Ye'll laugh in hell to-night!” Turning and leaping to the deck, his face like that of a madman, Howard roared out furious commands, and the men sprang to obedience. Blake was puzzled. All diving was given 4A 433 up for the day, it seemed; the spare suit was taken to Howard’s cabin and the skip- per rushed after it, summoning Jackson and bidding Blake take the deck. And in the cabin the two officers re- mained for the rest of the day, while the Marshall’s diving operations proceeded un- hindered. It was the general consensus of opinion among the men, however, that Howard had ‘something up his sleeve,” and many were the conjectures voiced as to its nature. At four bells in the afternoon watch Jackson appeared, shook his head in response to Blake’s question, and called away a boat’s crew. Jackson’s business, it appeared, was to carry a kedge to a point opposite the Marshall, planting it firmly in the coral of the reef. When he returned, he flung an evil grin at Blake. “We'll haul off a ways to-night, Dude. Trust the Ol’ Man to hand Steelfist one!” He vanished again, this time taking a bucket of tar with him. An hour later Blake was sitting on the knighthead, alone with his pipe, when young Boston ap- proached him somewhat diffidently. ‘‘T’d like to ask ye somethin’, Dude—sir, I mean.” Blake chuckled inwardly at this unwonted form of address, and eyed the speaker. As his nickname indicated, Boston was a callow youth, patently on his first voyage. “Fire away, Boston. What’s up?” “Tt dunno, sir,” and Boston shifted un- easily, with furtive glances aft. “I know you ain’t Marshall’s kind o’ man, nor How- ard’s neither—and—and—”’ “Out with it, old fellow,” smiled Blake quietly. ‘You’re quite right so far, and you can trust*me. What’s on your mind?” “Tt’s these here blamed murders!” broke out Boston, desperately. “I can’t stand it, and I ain’t goin’ to stand it! I ain’t any pirate an’ murderer, Dude—I wish to Hades I’d never come to sea, I do!” ‘So do I,” nodded Blake grimly, his gray eyes narrowed. “Any more of the men feel that way about it, Boston?” “T guess they do. We ain’t seen no buried treasure, an’ if we don’t get out 0’ here that shark-hearted Marshall is goin’ to get us all. If I talk to some o’ the boys will you come ashore with us an’ skip ship?” The young fellow was in deathly earnest, else he never would have broached such an idea, as Blake knew. COMMICLOOOK (C@