Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 23, 1924 — page 21: what you’re looking at

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

SHIFTING SANDS, here at the top. Let’s see how she looks be- low?” Watson was on his way down the steps to the main deck. Immediately below the bridge were the captain’s quarters, dining saloon and petty officer’s staterooms, with the galley in the rear. Much of the china and glassware had been broken; most of the linen was ‘musty and rotten, and nearly all the mat- tresses and pillows beyond salvage. In the galley there was a good range and plenty of copper cooking utensils scattered about. Everything was in confusion— rusty, moldy, and in some instances damp. ‘Still not so bad!” commented Watson. ““Now for the main thing—the engine and boiler rooms—that’s where I’m at home!”’ The party descended into the dim, mys- terious regions amidship and abaft. The odor of fetid, stale air was almost unbear- able, and in the deep gloom nothing could be discerned clearly. ‘We better find the storeroom and see if there are any lanterns and oil for them,” suggested Watson. ‘“ Can’t turn a wheel without some light down there.” The storeroom was located, the lock on the door forced, and the explorers entered. There were lanterns in plenty, paraffin coated boxes of matches, and cans of oil for the lanterns. Filling and lighting six, the men descended again to engine and boiler rooms. The air was oppressively foul. “Say, this air is too bad; we better get out and open up things a bit?” suggested Clay. ‘“ These lights are guttering; it’s dangerous!” “Guess you’re right; I’m dizzy from it now.” The retreat was speedy. Back up on deck, after much effort, the rusted ventila- tors were worked loose enough to turn, and slewed about with their wide mouths sea- ward to catch the rising breeze. ‘““Wouldn’t it help some to open the hatches?” suggested Clay. “Sure would; bring that pinch bar and that ax.” Watson led the way to the for- ward hatch. It was a grueling job to get the first hatch cover off and open it up. Finally it was accomplished, and the stale air released 179 from that hold was enough to knock an ele- phant down. “Whew! Bet a thousand rats died down there; and goodness knows what sort of a cargo has spoiled,’’ commented Clay, point- ing his nose to windward for a fresh breath. “ Mucho malo—vamonos?” suggested Pedro. ‘“ Sure, it’s bad, but we ain’t going any- where. We’re going to give her the fresh air treatment for a day, anyway. Say, you Pedro, take that boatman and beat it back to town; get us some grub, plenty of drinking water and pick up some more men. We can take on a dozen more to-day, and ~~ . more to-morrow. Hurry!” The task of opening the remaining hatches proved a two hour job. Then a visit was made to the storeroom to find out just what was available in the way of sup- plies. The room they had entered contained plenty of white paint for inside work, gray for outside woodwork, superstructure and deck, and black bituminous paint for stack, masts and hull. There were brushes, mops, brass polish, extra panes of glass, sets of overalls, rubber boots, spare tarpaulins, wire and manila rope and tools of all sorts. The contents of the room, having been protected, were in very fair condition. The second storeroom contained shovels, galvanized buckets, much wrought pipe of assorted sizes, fittings and a work bench and tools, spare parts for engine and machinery and edds and ends of stuff, and mofe black paint. Selecting two scoop shovels, three gal- vanized tin buckets, three steel bristle brushes, three mops and several packages of scouring powder, Watson, Clay, and Juan Monte returned to the bridge deck. The pelicans were back on the rail and gulls all over the structure again. Clay swung his mop and knocked two pelicans off the bridge. Watson threw a piece of plank and fired three shots from his revolver at the gulls, scaring them thor- oughly. “We're going to have the devil’s own time breaking up this place as general head- quarters and a roost,” grumbled Watson, beginning to scrape trash and débris from Gomichbooks (E(0)