The Argosy, Vol. XXIV, No. 3 — page 58: what you’re looking at

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

442 | A SECRET OF ’FHE SOUTH PACIFIC. ““What for?’’ ‘“ Why, we’re minded to provision our boat well and find our way to the Marquesas. I’m a good navigator.’’ ‘“ And leave us to our fate ?”’ ‘That isn’t the way to look at it,’’ responded Atwell pacifically. ‘‘’I‘he whole crowd of us jcouldn’t go in that long boat, and the cutter is too small even if it wasn’t smashed. ‘here isn’t any use expecting a ship to sail by this island. It’s too far out o’ the line of trade. But when we get to the Marquesas we’ll send a boat back for you.’’ ‘‘ Do you suppose we’d trust to your promise to send us help ?’’ demanded Thorne. ‘“I don’t see but what you’ll have to,’’ replied Atwell surlily. ‘‘I guess I'll keep the instruments and stores,’’ said Thorne. ‘‘ You’ll not leave this island unless we all go.”’ ‘Vou think so, do you ?”’ cried Atwell in-anger. ‘‘I’ve got the rest of your crowd—all but old Latimer—an’ I’ll shoot every one of them !”’ ‘‘If you touch one of them you’ll suffer for it,’’ replied Thorne. ‘I was counted something of a pistol shot in Boston. I’ve got plenty of am- munition and I’ll pick you off, one by one, if you harm those men.’’ ““ Maledictions on you !’’ reared Atwell. ‘‘I ought to have finished you when I had the chance. I thought I did, before I left the brig.’’ Thorne started. ‘“So it was you who assaulted nie, eh?’’ he asked. ‘‘ And I have been laying it to my friend Monckton.’’ ‘‘ Monckton !’ exclaimed Atwell, in disgust. ‘‘He hasn’t got enough sand to kill a mosquito. Don’t you forget that I am the chap who tried to do you. And the next time I’ll be successful—you an’ the cap’n both.’’ ‘“ Now, I’ve heard enough,’’ said Thorne sharply. ‘‘ You get back out of range or your gang of cut throats will be without a leader.’’ ‘“See here—you talk to Latimer about it, an’ see what he says,”’’ said Atwell, trying to swallow his chagrin. “od Cart”? “You can’t?”’ ‘“No. He’s not here.’’ ‘“You’re lying, I believe !’’ declared Atwell. ‘“You’re welcome to your belief. He’s disappeared. I’m here alone. I’m a desperate man—I don’t care much whether I live or die. You fellows won’t get in here while I can keep you out. Now hustle along.’’ Atwell slunk slowly out of sight. Thorne was tempted to put a bullet through him as he went. He knew that the mutineer would not have hesi- tated at such an act himself; but Thorne was handicapped by preconceived ideas of honor. That night he lay at the entrance of the cave, his weapon cocked and ready to his hand. He was determined that no one should enter the place excepting over his dead body. He dared not sleep—-at least, not in the night. How long he could hold out against his besiegers he did not know. ‘The condition of his friends in Atwell’s hands worried him, too. But, most of all, he feared for Captain Latimer’s safety. GCoOmMmichbooks 5}