Argosy, Vol. 85, No. 3 — page 126: what you’re looking at

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

468 the end of the war. It is victory—vic- tory—at last made certain for the Fath- erland—victory over a whole world full of enemies. | “Come, meine Jugenden! Quick— wine, schnapps, beer— anything. We drink to our Wilhelm— our kaiser— Hoch!—Hoch!—Hoch! At last he has signed the order and published it to the world, for the beginning and prosecution to the bitter end of the war of the U- boat!” The glasses had been filled with what- ever drink each could reach handiest, were raised even as he spoke the last words, were clinking joyously to punctu- ate the end of his fiery speech. Then suddenly the lips that had parted to receive the glasses, fell wider open in a gasp of amaze. Above the clinking and the rising murmur of satisfaction broke the voice of the girl, shrill, harsh, fierce to the verge of fury, vulgar unquestion- ably in its wrathful loyalty to a land that was not the home of the U-boat or theirs. “May your kaiser’s soul burn in hell for it!” Down on the mahogany deck a dainty glass monographed with the yacht’s name, shattered into a thousand pieces and splashed water over the feet of the offi- cers. They stared at her a moment in blank amaze. Many a face—and the captain’s was among them—paled with rage at the unexpected insult to the high representative of all their mighty pride. And she answered them stare for stare, defiant, her lips parted with panted breathing, her fair cheeks afire, her hair in the sunlight a dash of flame, her eyes lambent coals. But no man capable of being the cap- tain of that raider could have remained angry with wrath so pretty as hers. The captain let himself down with a little chuckle. Perhaps he remembered an inestimable service she had already rendered to his cause. The others followed his example and laughed as he remarked good-hu- moredly enough: THE ARGOSY. “Our little lady doesn’t like the U- boats.” She waited an instant, trying to get breath for more of the sort of tirade of which she was a master. Then she wheeled and went swiftly to the gang- plank, to the pier, toward the shore. “ Ach, Vetterchen,’ the baron called over the rail, ““don’t go away mad.” He must have learned that from Rudy. She paused just long enough to bid her higher-bred cousin go whither she had just consigned his emperor. But by this time all of them had awak- ened to the fact that their hosts were more Americans. They had looked at us and discerned that our glasses were still full. There was an awkward silence which some of them tried to cover by drinking the toast. The lunch was begun again. Our cap- tor-guests were even more punctiliously considerate in every word and gesture than they had been before. They plied us very gently with queries as to the atti- tude of our country. They assured us very earnestly that their rulers had no wish to offend America. They declined to believe that the United States could longer fail to perceive the justice of their cause and their action. But the free and easy good-fellowship was gone. We were glad when the raider again put forth to sea. Their politeness had been at such tension it was a relief to give over the effort to match it. Our storage plant was still the refrig- erator for the station officers’ mess. Even these meals lost their spontaneity. Rudy and Mamie spent the two following days aboard the yacht as usual. But Rudy had gone stolidly silent. He no longer discussed with Louie his ambi- tious plans for the day when he would get back to America. As for Mamie, it seemed as if her very beauty were fading by the hour. She tried to make conversation, tried to listen to mine—again and again she tried and failed. At length she frankly gave up. I thought again I understood. CO DOOK AMUC C©