The Argosy, Vol. 82, No. 3 — page 60: what you’re looking at

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

434 “Ves,” and Blake extended his hand. “Here’s my fist on it, Boston. You and any of the other men who'll play square will find me willing to help. But mind, I’ll have no funny work! It you come ashore with me, you'll obey me.” “Gawd knows, sir, all I want’s to get out o’ here!” and with that Boston shuffled away. The two officers did not reappear until the wizened Chinese steward was serving the evening meal. It was then dead low water, and the fast-falling tropic evening had already cast a dusky screen over the lagoon. “Now, my bullies,’ said the skipper softly, ‘“‘we’ll even up scores with Steelfist. We owe him two dead men already.” A low growl of assent arose from the men, but as yet Blake could see no signs of the indicated revenge. Howard proceeded to climb into the spare diving suit, to the breast of which had been fastened an elec- tric torch incased in a tarry waterproof sheath. “You tend the pumps, Mr. Blake,” he grunted. ‘Mr. Jackson, you got that stuff tested?” “It’s workin’ fine, sir,”’ rejoined Jackson, his whine tinged with eagerness. At this moment came a hail from the Marshall in the voice of her skipper. “Hey, there, Howard! You waked up et?”’ “You'll know soon enough!” roared How- ard, with a curse. “Thanks for your good wishes,”’ sneered Marshall. ‘‘We’ve been workin’ this after- noon, and there ain’t any stuff in that blasted wreck. If you’re willin’ to combine forces—”’ “You go plumb to Hades!” bellowed Howard, shaking his fist at the darkness. “T wouldn’t belive your word on a million Bibles, Steelfist Charley! I wouldn’t touch ye if you was drownin’ to death! I hope I see ye roastin’ on the devil’s gridiron an’ beggin’ yer heart out fer water!” Trembling with rage, Howard signed to Blake to screw on his helmet. No further word came from the other ship. There was a heavy splash alongside the gangway, and Blake looked up to see that Jackson had flung something overboard and seemed to be watching it. Howard, com- pletely incased from head to foot, was as- ‘sisted down. At the foot of the ladder he halted, THE ARGOSY. gripped something carefully, and was low- ered away out of sight. Wondering mightily what all this secrecy was about, Blake assured himself that the pumps were working steadily, and then ap- proached the main rigging where Jackson stood. “Keep away from them wires, fer Gawd’s sake!” broke out the mate in a hoarse whis- per. Blake halted abruptly. “Wires?” he repeated. ‘‘What—” “Get back to them pumps, will ye? Don’t foul them batteries under the poop, or we'll all blow to bloomin’ Hades to- gether. It’s hard enough without payin’ out these blasted wires in the dark—”’ Blake turned and went back to the pumps. He felt suddenly stunned, horri- fied beyond words, heartsick. | Jackson was paying out wire and bat- teries were placed under the poop! And what was the heavy object which had been dropped over the side and which Howard had caught up so tenderly as he went into the depths? | Taking up the lines, Blake paid them out slowly, a premonition of horror upon him which he could not shake off. Behind him were grouped the men, tense, expectant, silent. Through the quivering hush of the tropic night came a mutter of talk from the other ship, the scratch of a match, the snatch of a chanty in Paddy Ryan’s voice— The lines ceased to pay out, and Howard signaled for more air. Cutlip and young Boston were at the pumps, and Blake, who seldom swore, mouthed an oath as he turned and sped up the grinding wheels. A mo- ment later he felt the haul-in jerks. “Bear a hand here, two of you!” he snapped hoarsely. The dripping coils wound up beside him. Howard, who had gone to six fathoms, paused half-way up to relieve the blood- pressure; that two minutes of waiting seemed an age to Blake. At last the huge helmet broke water, and Howard was hauled aboard. At the same instant Jackson barked out a curt order. “Port watch for’ard! Lay on to that capstan, an’ sharp about it!” Evidently it mattered nothing that the Marshall would hear the clinking pawls. But, as the men fell to work, Jackson halted them abruptly. From the Marshall came the clatter of (E) .OO AMG S (C@)