The Wasp, 1918 · page 253 of 330
The Wasp — 1918 — page 253: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains narrative text from what appears to be a serialized adventure story, likely involving pirates or smugglers. The visible content describes a band of thirteen men—led by someone named Tom Croft—who are preparing to pursue a figure called "Trimmer" to settle a score. The group possesses meager resources: salvaged sea-biscuits, a hidden boat, a cave stocked with arms and ammunition, and fresh provisions. One member, Bill Hook (described as red-haired, gaunt from fever), is seriously ill. The satire or joke appears to involve the superstition about the number thirteen. Croft expresses concern that pursuing Trimmer with exactly thirteen men invokes bad luck—"flyin' into the face of things." This seems to mock either superstitious seafaring culture or the bad fortune dogging this particular group. Without seeing illustrations or knowing the magazine's date and broader context, the exact satirical target—whether political figures, social types, or contemporary events—remains **unclear**.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
4 THE VASP may give us the slip and call in here while we-are away looking for him.” : So a new hiding-place was found, and the treasure transferred to it. And nowit was time to take the first step toward finding Trimmer and settling their account with him. Their resources, excepting the buried treasure, consisted of two bags of sea-biscuits which had survived the general destruction by fire and sword, a small boat which had escaped the notice of the cutters-out, a dry cave well stored with arms and ammunition, and an unlimited upp of fresh fruit and fresh water. The numerical strength of the company was ~ thirteen, including the commander. Twelve | of these gentry were in the pink of physical condition, barring a few minor wounds ; but one of them, Bill Hook by name, was suffering from an intermittent fever. A man of something ‘about forty years was this Hook, red of head and whiskers, and reduced almost to bone eae skin by the gnawings of his disease. “Thirteen,” said Tom Croft, with an a on poor Bill Hook. “* There bain’t no luck in thirteen save devilish bad luck. It be flyin’ into the face of things to set out after Trimmer with a company o’ thirteen ! ” Comicacks.com)