The Wasp, 1918 · page 167 of 330
The Wasp — 1918 — page 167: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page depicts a fictional naval combat between two schooners—the *Wasp* (white) and the *Black Polly* (black)—described in dramatic, violent prose. The text is narrative rather than satirical commentary. The scene describes the aftermath of brutal ship-to-ship combat: destroyed weapons, dead crew scattered on deck, and a few surviving sailors still fighting. James Burnham and others from the *Wasp* are lowered in boats to finish off the disabled *Black Polly*, with one character asking if Burnham can shoot the enemy helmsman at the wheel. This appears to be **adventure fiction**, likely serialized in *The Wasp* magazine. Without seeing illustrations on this page or knowing the broader story, I cannot identify specific historical naval events being referenced or determine if this satirizes actual incidents. The violent, detailed description suggests this is entertainment content rather than political satire.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
158 THE WASP to rail; and all that’s left for us to do is to pick. : *em up, one ata time, and gut’em. Hicks ae: the wrong sow by the ear when he laid hold o’ that brig. They’ve unshipped each other’s big guns, burned all their powder, an’ cut each other’s throats. I think Til send off the boats. That'll be quicker than layin’ her alongside.” , _ The white schooner hauled abreast of the _ black schooner. Three of the Wasp’s boats "were swung out; and the men who sprang into them while they still hung higher than the bulwarks could see all the tragedy and helpless- ness of the Black Polly’s listed decks. They saw blood and corpses and two overturned cannon, a living man at the wheel under the break of the poop, and three crouching men, armed and alive, among the huddled and prostrate dead. The Black Polly changed her course and moved sluggishly off across the wind. James Burnham, standing upright in one of the sus- pended boats, could see the sweat agleam on the -face and arms of the fellow who wrestled wire the Polly’s wheel. “Can ye drop me their helmsman, Jim?” asked Trimmer from the poop. - Burnham nodded, and surendeds his hand — toward one of his companions in the swinging a g: lcomicbooks com)