Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 43 — page 83: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION sugar. So all the more for us... Hullo, Jenny’s going back on me now. What the Bek 27? There was a tense silence. Both men stood rigid, an ear cocked towards the loud- speaker. Presently: “It isn’t Jenny. I absolve her. She’s throbbing her heart out, trying to pull me out of this. It isn’t the wind, either. Were being pulled down—towards Willie. He’s watching us. I don’t get it. He must have an electro-magnet tucked under his’ fin: ,.-<..). \ Its no: use. Jenny can’t do a thing about 1 Shs The jaunty tone was fading. A certain tremulousness was creeping into Hacking’s voice. “Wish I could swim. Wish I had my water wings—though they wouldn’t be much use in this mill-race. Heads I become whale food. Tails I drown... Tails it is. To die must be an awf’ly big adven- ture... Here goes. I’m step- ping off. “Bye, you fellows.” 82 Then, in a firmer voice: ‘‘What is to be, will be—like I said.” There followed nothing but the faint wash of the carrier wave—Hacking must have left his mike switched on. For ten seconds it sounded—then ceased abruptly. Jenny had crashed. Raikes said, presently: “He was a real good lad. Guts! He was made of the stuff.’’ He was very moved. Lewes was upset, too. He had liked and admired Hack- ing. But never had he admired him so much as now. He knew he couldn’t have kept his chin high to the last moment, as Hacking had. But then, Hacking really had been a fatalist. Lewes wasn’t. He clutched at a straw. “Do you think he might be washed ashore, after all?” Raikes said: ““Maybe—as a corpse. Wouldn’t matter if he were a Channel swimmer— that river’s poison. It would kill anyone, and damn quickly. The poor guy didn’t suffer long.” conicloooks.con