The Argosy, Vol. 83 No. 1 — page 134: what you’re looking at

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

124 “Tf our friend here wakes,” he whis- pered, “you will choke him, but not to kill. It is for his own good. Do it as if you were packing fish.” He again raised his voice to the cap- tain of the torpedo boat. | “A thousand regrets, but that we have not!” he shouted; “nor have my men seen any one!” ‘Should you find him,” came the an- swer, ‘“‘dead or alive, keep him in safety— especially that which you find upon him— until you can hear from me or until you can get word to me—you see the num- ber?—at Fayal.” “Ves, your highness.” “A big reward—for discretion.” “But what sort of a man?” “You will know him by a gold decora- tion which he carries in a leather case.” “The saints be good to both of us,” the captain of the sloop bellowed. ‘How large did you say was the reward?” ‘““A thousand milreis!”’ There was a suppressed cheer from the members of the sloop crew. Their cap- tain raised his palm in salute as the tor- pedo boat rocked into speed again. “Name of a red devil!” he exclaimed. “We fish a fellow out of the water. Along comes a senor lieutenant on a torpedo boat to buy him off of us. A bargain to- day is never as good as it might be to- morrow. If the lieutenant offers us a thousand dollars for our friend there is somebody who will offer two.” There was no more fishing, scarcely any pretense at it. Off in the dim dis- tance they could see the torpedo boat tacking about across the expanse of water like a sailboat with an amateur at the helm. “He asked how far he was from the coast of France,” said one. “Captain, could we take so long a cruise as that?” “We could go to America itself.” “Suppose we look into the leather case.” “Tt might bring bad luck.” “Tt brought good luck to him all right. God only knows how long he was adrift.” “ “Dead or alive,’ that is what the lieu- THE ARGOSY. tenant said; and the reward is for the thing in the leather case.” “T tell you that we'll not kill what the good God has spared,” said the captain, sitting in final judgment on the general debate. ‘We'll wait until he has had his sleep. We'll hear what he has to say.” It was in the middle of the afternoon be- fore Knowlton opened his eyes again. The treatment he had received was as good perhaps as he could have got in the finest hospital in the world, and throughout the morning and the early afternoon the sun had been flooding down its vital warmth upon him. He awoke, still wrapped in his sail- cloth. He was streaming with perspira- tion. But, apart from a certain lassitude, he was feeling as fit as he had ever felt in his life. But how did it come that he was wrapped up like this?—that there was a red sail flapping above his head? There came a swift pang of recollection. Once more his hand sought the thong about his neck, the precious case sus- pended from it. Still there! He was alive and still in possession of the thing that had been entrusted to him. There must have been a dozen men looking at him. They were as savage a lot as he had ever seen. He could not re- member having seen any of them before. He could remember no detail of how he had come aboard. Then one of the men, slightly better dressed, slightly less shaggy than his fellows, was addressing him in English. “You see, we are good people. not rob you.” ‘“You have my gratitude,” said Knowl- ton. “Who are you, and where am [?” “T am Captain Dias, and this is my fishing-boat, the Pedro. All of us are poor fishermen. ‘This morning, before dawn, we came out here from Fayal, which you will see a little later when the mist goes up. We put our net overboard. It floated. When we drew it in, there you were. And all this is God’s truth.” As simple as had been the statement of We do CORMICGLOOKS (C@