Argosy All-Story Weekly, October 25, 1924 — page 170: what you’re looking at

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

“ Help! “ He’s killin’? me!” “You got me into this,” snarled Holt. “Now I’m gonna take it outa yer hide.” Rufus’s legs worked like piston rods. He ran aft, around the wheel and forward. His eyes were popping out of his head. He dashed up the forecastle companionway, around the winch and aft again. The race was doubtful. Holt gained in the straight- way on deck, but Rufus made up the loss when dodging around obstacles. Three times they ranged the ship’s length, then encircled two masts, Once Rufus scrambled on top of the cook’s shack. Holt was after him. The ship was now completely unmanned, Every last hand except Rufus was in the rigging. A stiff breeze was blowing and her bow had fallen off. The wind was on her quarter. The skipper at the mizzen masthead saw what had happened and yelled. “Lookout, she’s gonna jibe.” Rufus heard from his perch atop the cook shack and paused to look up whence the voice came, To see the skipper thus aloft, was such an unusual thing he forgot for a mo- ment his own peril. And it was peril, in- deed. Holt was now on top of the shack reaching after him. At that moment the boom came swinging like a huge bat in the hands of some giant Babe Ruth. Rufus ducked, but Holt did not. The boom caught him back of the skull, the crack resounded and the Russian Lion toppled off the cook shack and fell in a heap on deck. “Put ’im in irons,” yelled the skipper. Rufus ran aft, secured a pair of man- acles and bent over the prostrate Holt. He was just about to clamp them on those piano-leg wrists when Holt. opened one glazed eye. “Wot hit me?” he asked weakly. Rufus was about to run again, but a bril- Jiant thought crossed his mind. “T hit ye,” he replied. The impact of the information served completely to restore Holt’s consciousness. He sat up and stared in wonderment. “Gawd! ‘You hit me that wollop?” THE Help! ” yelled Rufus. ~ ARGOSY-ALLSTORY wee = * Yes”—Rufus nearly added “ sir.” Holt’s jaw dropped. “ Gawd, an’ I was pickin’ on a man that kin hit like that! Fer Gawd’s sake don’t hit me agin. I could never live through another!” “As long as ye don’t git frisky, yer safe with me,” said Rufus severely. “I jest wanted to impress on ye who yer mon- keyin’ with. I didn’t mean to hit ye so hard.” “ Gawd!” said Holt, rubbing the back of his head. Holt got to his feet slowly and painfully. He looked aloft. Somebody had to suffer for that blow. “ There’s the bird I want,” he said look- ing at the skipper. “Why don’t ye go up after ’im,” said Rufus, in whom memories of having been logged were now burning. “ Will them rope fixin’s hold me?” asked Holt. “ Sure,” said Rufus. “Stop; don’t let *im come up here,” called down the skipper hysterically. “ Hellup! a chorus of sailors. ‘Log me, will ye?” shouted Rufus. “No, no, I take it all back. I'll take ye off the log an’ give ye a bonus besides,” yelled the skipper. ‘“‘ Only fer God’s sake ¢top that critter from comin’ up here.” “An’ will ye log the mate?” “ Sure, anything.” “ An’ will ye fire the carpenter!” ae * Anything ye want. Help, quick.” “ All right, come down here, Holt, an’ behave yerself.” Holt started down not reluctantly for he didn’t fancy climbing. Three days later Holt was interrupted in the business of peeling spuds outside the Hellup! He'll kill us,” yelled | galley door, by the displeased voice of . Rufus. “Hey, don’t cut half the spuds away peelin’ ’em. Peel the skins thin, er Tl give ye a poke in the nose.” “Yes, sir,” said Holt, cringing. “ Now, I tol’ you to say aye, aye, sir, when I speak to ye. None o’ your lands- man’s language in this galley.” “ Aye, aye, sir,” said Holt very meekly. END 10 A Le ANIC (C@ sy wes BVT Ws es en ANE 4 A tee «4 4a NOOLKS oo : GoM S cA ccs “ | a a.’ = See Sos se =f ti) ww ; 2 i 3 F we f Bae Otley Merc. é * AJ i fi . ‘ 4 PC oA ie! sr eee Go -: Rte) AG a: Se EIA EAN ey >) we writ Rade vere | AN xe Mia 4) ea iy