Argosy, September 1955 — page 11: what you’re looking at

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

QUEER FISH 9 Pascoe,” he said thickly. “‘ One day it’ll be my turn to laugh, and I don’t mind how soon it comes, so I’m warning you! ” The door slammed shut behind him. Albert stared at it sorrowfully. Always the same trouble; the man’d never stay to have his leg pulled proper. ‘* Arrh!”’ he said, ‘‘ the !’? and the word he used was libellous. He tilted his ketchup bottle, wiped his lips on the back of his hand and glanced round the bar. ‘‘ Who’s for a game of darts? ”’ At ten o’clock, time was called. The strangers had gone long ago. Only the regulars remained. They drained their glasses slowly, taking their time because beer tasted all the better after hours. Eventually they drifted towards the door. Somebody said, ‘‘ Going upalong, Albert?” Albert stood in the open door. The night was clear and soft and the stars were out. He was not drunk—half the contents of the ketchup bottle remained, scrupulously saved for another occasion—but he was warm with drink. He shook his head. ‘* Not yet awhile, Charlie,” he said. ‘“ I got to fetch something from the boat. G’night, all.” She was called the Alice, and she lay at her winter moorings half a mile up-river from Pendennick. She was the pride of Albert’s life, a twenty-three-foot fishing-boat converted to a day cruiser with a small, stuffy cabin forward, a glassed-in shelter for the steersman, and a well aft from which the seats were removable when the space was needed for fishing. She had an old-fashioned main engine and a smaller, more modern wing engine. With both going the Alice could plough herself through the water at eight knots, but at that speed she was inclined to be smelly and she shook and chattered like a cement-mixer. The tide was falling. Albert left the road and trudged across shingle to sit on a rock at the water’s edge. He had lied when he said he needed to fetch something from the boat; in fact he had just wanted to look at her, to plan the things he would do to her when the time for refitting came, and to dream about Easter. At Easter the tourists started coming, which, for Albert, meant money in the pocket and, better still, liberation from the detest- able necessity of working as a docker. His pipe had gone out. Dreamily, Albert reached in his pocket for matches. Then, without warning, a voice in the dark- ness behind him said, “‘ Don’t move, please.” Albert did move. He jumped uncontrollably. . A man appeared at his side. Albert looked up, his eyes wide with astonishment. It was one of the strangers who had been comicbooks.conn