Argosy All-Story Weekly, October 25, 1924 — page 101: what you’re looking at

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

BUCCANEER BLOOD. “Which you’re speakin’ the truth,” Mc- Corkle admitted. ‘‘ Wing you go along- side of him—and hold his hand.” Wing, whose desire for loot seemed to re- inforce his courage at all times, made no objection—beyond the usual palsied shak- ing of his white head. They started for the door at the other end of the dining hall, through which they could see the grand staircase, leading to a realm of pitch darkness. When they were about to pass the old chatelaine, however, the latter made a step forward as if to in- tercept them. “« Sirs,” she broke in, “ you have not yet emptied the decanter.” “Leave them go,” McCorkle shouted. “They don’t have to empty nothin’. I'll do the emptyin’.” “Tf you will permit me, and do me that much honor,” the chatelaine said with a suppressed desperation, “I will order my servant to bring a roast fowl, some Bur- gundy—or perhaps you would fancy some of the old Peruvian wine—a relic of the sacking of Panama?” Wing and Parson were glad enough to listen to her. The shadows of that stair- case did not invite them. But their master again interrupted her: “ The old dame’s worryin’ about the gal, men—you can see that. That means the gal’s up above—and most like without the means to defend herself. Which you bet- ter do your business in a hurry, the wind and weather now bein’ favorable.” Reluctantly Parson and Wing went to the door, stopping shoulder to shoulder when they reached it, and peering upward. “T beg you, sirs—” the chatelaine was about to begin. Her concern for the safety of her granddaughter was at least tem- porarily, without cause. For McCorkle had come to an abrupt change of mind. The fact of the matter was, the leader of the three ruffians had succumbed to a very natural qualm. When he saw his two henchmen leaving him—for the uncertain realms above—he evoked a vivid and startling picture of himself waiting down there in the dining hall with that parch- ment faced witch standing above him, and those ghostly presences on the walls hover- 91 ing over him. Yes, as the old crone had said, they had to bé reckoned with! ‘“ Avast there, you tremblin’ white-livered rats!” he shouted in a sudden burst of temper—which in reality was a mask for his own funk. “ We can’t go about this business without we have Dorset. What the hell use is he to us now—shiverin’ and howlin’ back there aboard the lugger? Bein’ we know exactly where all hands is at, the lugger’s safe enough without no watch. The old dame and the black will stay here— with me watchin’ ’em. The gal’s upstairs —ain’t no doubt about that, because the old lady proved it by the way she quartered up athwart that door to head you off.” “Sure enough, captain, we know just what we’re standin’ on. Might as well get Dorset,” old Wing counseled. “You can pipe Dorset up here yerself, Wing,” McCorkle commanded. “ Me and Parson will stay together. Then you and Dorset can join us. That makes us allus two and two. ‘Then there ain’t no chanst of gettin’ a bowie knife stuck into our livers from behind.” Wing hurried out on his mission, his head lolling eagerly from side to side with each step of his widely separated shambling feet. “Did I hear something about another drink?”” McCorkle asked turning to the chatelaine. His drink was poured. He quaffed it, smacking his lips, settling-back again in the bishop’s throne chair. He seemed to feel something of the dignity of his position. He peered across his huge paunch which was thrust up because of his reclining position, and surveyed the court of which he was the newly crowned monarch. By his side was the octoroon, Parson— a powerful, long-limbed man with sledge- hammer fists. There was no need of any greater power—if physical power was all that would be demanded in that situation. Before him, not four paces away, was the proud old dowager, still standing, livid, gray with smoldering rage. But a short while before she had sat in the seat of judgment. Now she was the judged. She had been a queen with power over the lives of her sub- jects. Now, dethroned, she was standing Gomichbooks (E@)