Argosy, Vol. 118, No. 2 — page 65: what you’re looking at

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

ee THE DEVIL’S DAUGHTER. A carried away her rudder even as Spaulding with a low cry involuntarily flung his arm around the girl. The tiller had jammed over at the impact, pressing her hard against him; and for an instant both of them lay breathless against the coaming of the cockpit. In the next ten seconds things happened with dazing rapidity. The boat that had srazed the Vixen cut her way straight on- ward toward the mouth of the cove and disappeared from view, but the fragment of a curse that came up against the wind made Spaulding think, even then, that she had.not gone scathless. And just before she drove out of sight toward the sheltered inlet the coughing of another motor came to the ears of those in the sloop. A third boat crossed their bows, heading straight up into the wind—north—toward Canada. Spaulding, in the brief moment it took to right himself, had time to think and to note the situation. He drew his knife, glanced toward the darkly outlined shore, and slashed the main sheet to the accom- paniment of a cry from Irene Downey. Then, as the boom straightened out with a ripping crack, he sprang forward and cut the halyards, throat and peak. The gaff slumped down; and the Vixen, all her steady beauty of movement gone, began to stagger and pitch and drift toward the mouth of the cove. ‘We'll either make shelter or we'll break up on the rocks,” he shouted, after he had worked his way back to the side of the crouching girl. “If I hadn’t have let her drift we’d have gone on the rocks certainly —there isn’t a safe place to beach her in this wind within half a mile of here.” He knew, of course, that they faced death; and he knew that she knew it. He took a kind of cruel pleasure in watching her, as weil as he could, to see whether she were breaking under the strain—for it was a strain to sit helpless and wait to see whether wind and waves and the Vixen would carry them into the haven of the untroubled cove or to the jagged shore line on either side. Some women would have been inert by now, and some would have torn at him with frantic hands. His own calmness he . 215 attributed to indifference, and not to bravery. But with her it was not the same —she must have some desire to live for, whether it might be good or evil. Yet she sat bending forward, peering into the night, without any evidence of terror. ‘You are too much of a woman for this sort of thing,” he said, at length, para- phrasing her words of the earlier evening. He was rather astounded that he had spo- ken, and like that. For really, he told himself, he did not consider her any better than any other woman. She turned her face toward him, and he ‘fancied that she smiled. ‘“That’s complimentary—from you!” And she actually found time to laugh as the sloop swerved, pitched desperately, headed toward the white, thundering rocks —and then slipped almost gracefully through the entrance to the cove. The Vixen, as though tired with having done her utmost, drifted broadside to the choppy little seas of the inlet and came to rest sloppily upon the sand of a fretful beach. Spaulding went over the side at once and began to work hurriedly to make the boat fast. By the light of a tiny lantern which he gave into the hands of the girl he got out his anchor, and then ran a line from the mast to a tree on shore. Not until this had been done did he give any heed to their surroundings, or to his com- panion other than to snap orders at her. Now, satisfied with his labor, he considered the night and became aware that a fire was begfnning to burn up among the trees a few hundred yards back from the water. The hand of Irene took him by the sleeve. “Come,” she said. ‘‘ Father should be up there.” He hesitated, assured himself that he was moved only by curiosity, and permitted her to lead him toward the brush fire, against the light of which a handful of stout forms were outlined. As they advanced he picked out the members of the group— Downey, with his solidity and his hooked arm; the raw-boned, stooping giant, Tom Strong; and quick moving Tite Garneau. There was also Bat Marble, robust and handsome in profile against the fire. Devil Downey heard them and spun COPMICLOOOKS (©)