The Wasp, 1918 · page 177 of 330
The Wasp — 1918 — page 177: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains serialized **fiction**, not a political cartoon or satirical illustration. It appears to be part of an adventure story published in *The Wasp*, a satirical magazine, though this particular excerpt reads as straightforward narrative rather than satire. The text describes a violent maritime scene: James Burnham and an unnamed woman survive a ship battle involving treasure-hunting and boarding parties. A vessel called "the valiant brig" sinks while a white schooner approaches. The scene culminates with the woman expressing regret that Burnham isn't the ship's captain—suggesting either romantic interest or a plot twist about his true identity or role. **Without seeing illustrations or understanding the full serialized context**, I cannot identify what satirical or political points *The Wasp* intended here. The narrative itself appears to be adventure fiction typical of the era, not obviously satirizing contemporary politics or public figures. More context about the story's beginning and *The Wasp*'s editorial stance would be needed to explain the intended satire.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
168 THE WASP “That’s him!” said the third; ‘“and he was — the same afore he turned sides o fortune. Handy with the iron, he was ! ” James Burnham withdrew his sword from the dead body and stepped out into the main cabin. The woman followed him. The wounded men - were still there; but one had ceased to crawl in his quest for treasure and lay flat on his face —dead. Burnham glanced around him, then |, went on deck; and the woman followed him close. The three other unwounded survivors of the boarding-party remained below to break into the late Hellfire Hicks’s treasure-chests. — | Burnham and the woman reached the deck | just in time to behold the last plunge of the valiant brig. She went down head first, and the bright and lively seas danced over her grave. The white schooner was approaching, her work — ’ well done. She was not half a mile away, a beautiful thing of living white upon the still blue of the sky and the dancing blue of the sea, slanting gracefully in her long tack across the wind, The woman placed both her hands on Burn- — _ham/’s arm, stood very close to him, and gazed up into his face. “*T regret you are not the captain,” she said. iComicbooks:comill|