Argosy All-Story Weekly — 'The Metal Monster' — page 73: what you’re looking at

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

THE DERELICT. ‘‘ And a ticket and everything? I have a hagy recollection of buying a ticket— only— Where did you say this packet was bound ?”’ ‘“‘ ‘Trinidad, sir. We sail from New York to Grenada, thence to Trinidad. We carry all sorts of stuff down, and bring back pitch. You know, sir—from the pitch lake. I believe you’re booked for Port-au-Spain.” Thorpe considered this intelligence in si- lence. Then he said: ‘“‘ Thanks, Godfrey. I'll take your advice and try to sleep now. Maybe I’ll be a little less muddled when I wake up. You see, I’ve never been drunk before.” He laughed a short, mirthless laugh. “ And, Godfrey,” he added, as the man was about to go out of the door, “tf you really feel that you must bring me some- thing to eat, for pity’s sake make it some- thing as odorless and as nearly tasteless as possible!” “ Physically unfit!” As he idled at the rail of the Barbuda, the words suddenly rang in his ears like a clear, sharp bell. That was the key, the clue, the explanation. Out of what had been merely chaotic ache there formed coherent thoughts in his head—the first in several days. | “ Physically unfit!” Yes, a big, upstand- ing man in uniform had used those words to him, a long time ago—oh, a very long time ago. This was August, 1919—the 2oth of August, to be exact. There-had been a war, and now the troops were home from overseas. That was it! Although it had been a body-blow to him, he had been able to stand up against that ‘“ Physically unfit.” He knew where he could serve his govern- ment perhaps even better than in the trenches. He had taken his dollar-a-year job, and had made good at it. His con- science had somewhat rested. But it was when the men he knew start- ed returning from over there—that was when he began to cringe! “ Hello, Thorpe! What were you with? Did you get to the front? When did you get back?” He had tried to explain—tried to get OF ee! ee gee oo e 67 around that “ Physically unfit” hurled at him in the recruiting office—tried to con- vince other men as well as himself that it was no fault of his that he still wore “civilians.” But deep down in his heart, he knew there was no fault anywhere but in his own life. He had lived wrong, or he would never have been turned away with that phrase left ringing in his ears. He had lived too high, too soft. He was not hit to take his place in the ranks beside better men. — Yes, he had stood seeing every Tom, Dick and Harry go away to fight the Hun, but he could not stand their coming back. Now, leaning against the rail of the Barbuda, he looked back over his life and found it suddenly strangely empty and un- attractive. He had lived a clean life, as men’s lives go. He had never been drunk in his life before the day he boarded the Steamer. Women he had always treated decently. He had never cared for them; he had kept away from them. He had taken up his father’s business where his father had laid it down at his death— money had been his in plenty, at all times. Too much money—that had been his trouble. | | He had softened himself with rich eating and rich drinking and rich living. There was nothing really wrong with him, He was Just not quite man enough for his coun- try’s service, Nothmg could have been more bitter to him. Thorpe’s eyes searched the _ horizon. There was nothing—nothing but sea and sky. It was all blank, like his life, he told himself. “ That was it!’’ he muttered. ‘ Nothing to strive for. If I’d ever cared for a wo- man—married, and had children—well, I might not have tanked up at dinner with Hall and planned a fimish as complicated as this! I might have ended it with less parade—a revolver. Golding would have seen to it that I received decent burial. ‘““T suppose it was our discussion of Martss Eden and his leaping through the port-hole. I remember Hall objected to that—-said a man of Martin’s caliber would never have given in to life. I suppose that stuck in my muddied head. GOH GIO (CO