The Argosy, Vol. 82, No. 3 — page 68: what you’re looking at

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

442 There was a note of desperation in the tones that sent Blake plunging off down the path, wondering if by any chance the men could have found that chest of money. But they had found worse than money. Blake reached the clearing to see the house blazing with light, while another cry from Fancy Harry ended with startling abruptness. It was followed instantly by the voice of Cutlip Sullivan. “Urrk-uh-uh-uh-urrk! I’m Cutlip Sulli- van, and I eats ’em alive—whooey!” Darting to the door, Blake was in time to see the bo’sun reel across the room, crash into the opposite wall, and fall limply. Then he stared aghast at the scene which met his eyes. CHAPTER XVI. TORTURE, "THE bo’sun lay inert, while Sullivan stood over him, stretcher in hand, and flapped his arms grotesquely. The Bottle Heaver and the remaining two men were stretched out on the floor half drunk; between them stood Wicliff’s big sandalwood chest, smashed open. From this had been taken a brandy case, also smashed to flinders, and empty bottles rolled on the floor. How long this silent orgy had been going on before Fancy Harry discovered it, there was no saying. Head and shoulders resting against the wall, was the body of Howard, with Cut- lip Sullivan’s knife-haft protruding from his neck. As Blake stared in horrified incredulity Sullivan turned and saw him. A torrent of blasphemy poured from the seaman’s throat; swinging up his boat-stretcher, Sul- livan leaped across the room with a roar, murder in his face. The other three sea- men looked up in stupid, drunken mirth. Blake sprang in, dodged the deadly sweep of the stretcher and swung to Sullivan’s jaw with all his weight and fury behind the _ blow. The “cock of the fo’c’s’le” threw out his arms and went down as if shot. Catching up one of the rolling bottles, Blake crossed to the senseless form of the bo’sun, turned it over, and poured brandy into the man’s mouth. It was all too plain that Wicliff had kept the stuff in the chest along with other medicines, and that the men had broken into it the first thing. THE ARGOSY. Being unhurt except for a crack over the head, Fancy Harry sat up and cursed for more brandy. ‘Then he looked into Blake’s ice-cold eyes and scrambled to his feet. ‘The fools!” he cried, kicking the pros- trate Bottle Heaver. “You get back to your post,” said Blake coldly. ‘I’ve got to get these fellows in shape to fight before Long Rube shows up. Skip along now!” The bo’sun turned and vanished. Leaving the murderer, Sullivan, where he lay, Blake seized on the other three seamen. He was in a cold rage at their criminal negligence in not staying at least passably sober, and without compunction he began to awaken them in fo’c’s’le fashion, using foot and fist and voice as he had seldom thought ever to use them. One by one he shot the three out through the doorway, then jerked Sullivan to his feet. Quite knocked out by Blake’s one blow, the man was now coming to himself, and reeled out to the veranda. Blake kicked him down to the moonlit clearing with the others. ‘“You’re a fine bunch of swine, you are—” He was checked abruptly by a faint and apparently distant hail lifting above the trees, in the voice of Paddy Ryan. “Look out, Dude! They’re past me an’ comin’—I’m off to get—” “Dude!” came a roar from Lovell, down the beach path. ‘The skipper’s sneakin’ up on—” As Blake leaped for the veranda, tugging out his. revolver, he heard shots from the crest above—the crest where lay the grass hut, with Mary Peabody. The thicket of lantanas seemed suddenly to break out into voices of men. 7 “Get up here out of the light, you fools!” ‘shouted Blake, at the half-stupefied men. The Bottle Heaver and the others started to obey clumsily, but Cutlip Sullivan shook his fist in maudlin defiance. “To hell wid ye, Dude—ye lop-eared—” A rifle flashed out at the edge of the clearing, and Sullivan went down, coughing out his life. Other rifles cracked; Blake heard the bul- lets ripping into the house all around him, and a wild yell in Marshall’s voice answered by a burst of shouts from all sides. So, then, Bower had come! “Use those bottles for weapons, men!” cried Blake, shoving the others inside. “Here they come—” CORNICLOOOKS (C©@)