The Argosy, Vol. XXIV, No. 3 — page 24: what you’re looking at

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

408 A SECRET OF THE SOUTH PACIFIC. It was quite certain, too, that Monckton had none. In fact, the third mate, Mr. Pepper, told him that the agreement when old Monckton wrote for his son’s passage was that no liquors were to be allowed aboard. Evi- dently the intention had been to make an effort to reform Carter, and Thorne was forced to admit that up to the present time the fellow had behaved himself very respectably. ‘The only liquor he had managed to bring on board was that in the pocket flask which Thorne had unceremoniously thrown overboard the night of his arrival. And Monckton hadn’t forgiven him that, either. ‘Thorne thought possibly the fellow was too drunk to remember the occurrence, but * one evening he was disabused of that idea. | The trouble started with a very innocent discussion between Sydney and Thorne at the supper table. The argument waxed warm, though in a spirit of perfect friendliness, until Monckton put in a word. Sydney tacitly ad- mitted him into the discussion by replying; but Thorne very foolishly showed that he was nettled by the fellow’s uncalled for interference, and dropped the subject at once. The cut was so direct that even Monckton’s egotism v was pierced, He flushed and passed several sharp comments, making Thorne the butt of the others’ laughter by turning his former arguments into ridicule. ‘Thorne bit his lip, but made no reply until Miss Latimer had gone on deck. ‘Then, as Monckton still pursued his raillery, he reached one long arm over the table and knocked his persecutor out of his chair. The cabin was in a tumult in an instant. Monckton’s bantering was changed to ungovernable rage. He sprang up with an imprecation, and both Mr. Sessions and Mr. Pepper got up also. ‘ Chairs were tipped over, and for an instant it looked as though Monckton would spring over the table at the throat of his antagonist. Thorne alone remained in his chair, his eyes on Monckton’s face, his own features as pale as death. Outwardly he was as calm as the tropical sea at that instant ; inwardly he was full of a mad desire to seize the fellow and fol- low up that flnele blow with a sound thrashing, ‘You miserable hound !’’ cried Monckton, finding his breath. . His fingers crept behind him and sought his hip pocket. He was quite beside himself with rage. ‘Calm yourself,’’ said Thorne coldly, ‘‘and take your hand away from that thing in your pocket! Assure as you try to draw it on me I’ll break every bone in your body.?’’ Monckton looked into the other’s face and quailed. His fingers returned to their normal position. ‘You bully !’ he sputtered. ‘‘ You thief !’’ Then Thorne stood up. ‘Tl thank you not to apply that term to me again,’’ he sand so quietly that Monckton would have been warned by it had he not been so utterly be- side himself with rage. ‘‘I repeat it—you ave a thief ! the son of a thief !’’ he hissed. Instantly Thorne leaped fairly over the cabin table, and, seemingly with the same motion, landed his clenched fist on the point of Monckton’s chin. S) =) icbooks (€(0)