The Argosy, Vol. 82, No. 3 — page 61: what you’re looking at

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

SHIPS OF STRIFE. oars, voices, and the deep “Give way!” of Steelfist himself asa boat set out for shore. “Hell and blazes!” swore Howard, floun- dering ponderously in his clumsy leaded boots. ‘Get me out o’ this rig! Eight o’ you bullies tumble into the cutter—jump, you rats! You stay aboard, Blake.” With laborious rapidity the dripping suit was flung aside. The skipper dashed be- low, returning with a .45 in either hand, and promptly leaped down to the boat. “Shove off, bullies!” Howard turned and flung a low order over his shoulder. “‘Soon’s you're kedged out, Jackson, touch her. off! Send the Dude with all the men but you an’ a couple more—we’ll need help ashore—”’ The big cutter gathered way and was lost in the darkness. Now-under Jackson’s curses the windlass began its song and the Foster moved slowly away from the Mar- shall, kedged out toward the reef. Blake seized the opportunity and leaped for the after cabins. He had lost the re- volver gained from Bully Forrester, but in Bingham’s cabin he found another and a box of cartridges. Shoving them into his pocket, he regained the deck to hear Jack- son bawling for him. “Dude! Git into that boat—where the hell are ye?” “Coming!” sang out Blake. “Hustle your rats! Over with you Blake dropped into the boat, hearing the whine of young Boston at his elbow. Above them stood the figure of Jackson, a black blur in the main rigging. “Give way, you fools!” cried Jackson, his voice shrill with excitement. ‘Give way! Give way! Now laugh, Steelfist, curse you!” And, as the boat shoved off, there came a low, muffled roar. The Marshall’s tall masts and rigging quivered against a red flame; her whole structure seemed to plunge on end like a sounding whale; the roar burst into a racking explosion that sent Blake down amid his shrieking men as the boat rocked and reeled. Howard had exacted a terrible vengeance! iP) CHAPTER XIV, SWITCHING COMMANDERS. ARKNESS, intense and _ terrible—and the screams of men. | Came shots and yells from the beach, with Howard’s deep bellow calling on Blake 435 to hurry. In the starlight: Blake saw the masts of the Marshall projecting from the water, as his men began to pull mechani- cally. But after the first horrible awe and reali- zation, there came swift reaction. Hard- ened as these men were, wholesale murder was far from -their hearts. The bowman suddenly gasped, then flung his oar across the gunwales and broke into a screaming sob. “Gawd’s vengeance on the cursed job! There’s a _ floater—let them murderers ashore fight it out—I’m done, I am!” A rough chorus of approval heaved up, and the men stopped rowing. Young Bos- ton began to pray. Some one struck him down with an oath. ‘That ain’t no floater—he’s alive!” cried Sullivan. The body which had struck the bowman’s oar swirled in between the halted blades and reached for the gunwale. Blake leaped forward and helped draw the man inboard. As he fell over the thwarts, sobbing something, an exclamation broke from the men. “Tt’s Ole! It’s the Finn!” Blake helped the man sit up. Ole seemed quite unhurt, and gazed into his face with sobbing recognition. ‘“Who went ashore?” demanded Blake sharply. “Speak quick, now!” The old fear of authority fell upon Ole, and he shivered. ‘“‘All but me an’ de mate an’ t’ree more, sir. Ay—” A long and furious bellow rose from Howard, followed by two more shots and a chorus of yells. Evidently there was a des- perate battle going forward. Young Bos- ton suddenly rose with a shrill cry. “Dude, we ain’t goin’ to help them pi- rates! You take us out o’ here an’ we'll stick to ye, won’t we lads?” “Sure thing!’’ rumbled a hearty response. “Say the word, Dude. We’re all with ye, sir!” ‘Der bo’sun,” spoke up Ole Kafban, “an’ Paddy Ryan an’ mabbe odders is full oop © o’ fightin’, Dude. Miss Pebbody.” Here was the crucial instant, and Blake seized it. ‘Men, will you stand by to help Miss Peabody. Say aye, and we’ll beat these murdering ruffians at their own game.” ‘‘Aye!” growled the men. I come too if ju help CORMICLOOOLK (C@)