The Argosy — page 133: what you’re looking at

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

MY COWBOY MESSMATE. The worth of Texan plains’ training on board a merchantman—How a “ landlubber ” won glory from shipmates who at first were only disposed to guy. SAW him first on the dock at Galveston, while the Sollowell was loading for Liverpool. It was the day before we sailed; the cargo was all stowed, things were clewed up, and the old brig looked pretty natty. Captain Traverse was mighty particular about looking well when we cleared and entered port. The Sollowell always looked like a girl in holiday attire when we tripped our anchor. There wasn’t much to do, and those of us who were aboard were lying about the deck, taking it easy on our last day in port. Sam Collins was near me, and taking his pipe from his mouth and pointing with its stem to the shore, he says: ‘ Look-er yonder, Mark. See that, sawney ?’’ I glanced over the rail. There on the wharf stood about the longest legged individual I’d ever seen. He was lean and not a little bow legged, and the fringed trousers and beaded leggings he wore made his pipe stem nether limbs look ridiculous enough. He was dressed in regular cowboy fashion—big hat, woolen shirt, belt, enormous spurs, and all, and at his hip was slung a revolver, longer than a marlinspike. He was staring at the brig with evident curiosity, and his eyes—snapping black eyes they were—took her all in, from truck to keelson. While Sam and I were chuckling over his appearance, he strode up to the edge of the dock and looked over at us. ‘“ How air ye, gents ?’’ he said. ‘‘ Hullo, sawney !’’ returned Sam. ‘‘ Never saw salt water before, did ye >» I gave hima sharp nudge and a warning look. I’d heard that most of those cow punchers were always spoiling for a fight, and a sailor’s fists wouldn’t stand much show against that seven shooter. ‘No, I never did,’’ admitted the stranger. ‘‘ Been cow punching all my life. But I reckon I’d like to see suthin’ of it.’’ ““Why don’t you ship?’’ asked Sam, on a broad grin. ‘‘ Men are scarce, an’ the old man’s looking for one or two more to make up the crew.”’ ‘‘T been thinkin’ of it—I sure have,’’ declared the Texan, and he wandered on, still staring at the brig’s tapering masts and her multitudinous shrouds and running gear. But we weve surprised, when Captain Traverse came aboard about dark with two additions to the crew, to recognize in one of them our cowboy acquaintance—sombrero, spurs, seven shooter, and all!”’ Collins and some of the others started right in to have lots of fun with Jim—his name was Jim Ledward—but somehow the fun didn’t materialize. CoOmmicooolxs (S@)