Fire Mountain A Thrilling Sea Story

There was a moment’s silence as Little Billy finished reading. There was in the hunchback’s face, and in the faces of the girl and the old captain, a somber understanding of Joh...

It was the night of April 29, 1915, that Martin Blake, clerk, sat at the _Cohasset’s_ cabin table and heard the tale of Fire Mountain. It was on the morning of July 6, 1915, tha...

It seemed to Martin he was wandering in a vast and thirsty desert. To the very core of his being he was dry. Drink! Drink! With his whole life he lusted drink. He waded through...

He reached into the cash-box and drew out a little book. Martin observed that it was apparently a pocket notebook, a cheap, dog-eared thing with cracked cardboard covers. Little...

The results of a forceful tap on the human jaw are various. One man lies inert, dead of body, blank of mind; a second writhes about and babbles; a third retains a modicum of con...

The Japanese gentleman might ramble at length in his speech, but he proved himself to be direct and speedy enough in action. Martin found that Dr. Ichi was disposed to hurry. No...

Martin lived at Mrs. Meagher’s Select Board for Select People establishment, far out in the western addition. He was star boarder, and as such made free with Mrs. Meagher’s litt...

Martin returned to consciousness gradually, and _via_ the nightmare route. He was being put to torture. He was bound, helpless, and a steel band encircled his head, and sharp sp...

During the voyage Martin had listened to many discussions between Little Billy and Captain Dabney concerning the formation of Fire Mountain, and their descriptions of the strang...

“No, we’ll not go ashore tonight,” stated Captain Dabney at supper. “We would only lose ourselves blundering about in this fog. If the stuff is still there, it will keep until t...

The happy thrill Martin felt at the sound of that undaunted voice was nowise dampened by the knowledge that Moto, the torturer, stood behind his chair, with fingers ready to Car...

Daylight, dazzling to Martin’s gloom-accustomed eyes, filled the _Cohasset’s_ cabin. Martin’s upward ranging gaze, as he clambered out of the lazaret, saw, through the open cabi...

“But we can’t,” was Martin’s prompt rejoinder. “You said yourself we dare not venture on the beach. They would only knock us over with their rifles—and besides, Carew would lear...

“Is it little Billy?” thought Martin. “No, it can’t be. Little Billy is on board, planning the uprising, directing Yip and Bosun.” The guess he had made, born of hope and Ruth’s...

It is a cruel thing to shut up a young man between the four walls of an office, when that young man is romantic, heart-hungry, and twenty-three. It is especially cruel, when the...

The clock on the tower of the ferry building showed fifteen minutes past nine when Martin dropped off the car at the foot of Market Street. He paused a moment on the corner, enj...

Martin lounged upon the divan, on edge with impatience, his attention divided between the faces of his companions and the face of the clock hanging on the forward bulkhead. The...

They waited there at the window for some time longer, watching the preparations made for Carew’s coming ashore. Carew, himself, had disappeared below, but a sailor appeared on t...

Martin was disappointed. The Black Cruiser—delectable name, of which he had expected much—was, it appeared, housed in a commonplace and very ugly two-story wooden building, a bu...

Martin lurched forward past the man who opened the door into a room that was brightly lighted by gas and kerosene lamps. It was a room bare of furniture save for a common kitche...

Within the hour, Captain Dabney’s words bore fruit. The spanking ten-knot breeze dropped abruptly to a gentle four-knot power. Then in the twinkling of an eye, as it were, the f...

“It won’t take me long to tell my part of the story,” commenced Captain Dabney. “It happened last Summer, up in Bering Sea. I dodged out of the fog-bank, where I had been playin...

“Aye, it was the knee he give you, lad. ’Ow was an innercent babe like you to know about foul tricks o’ fighting? But ’twas a close shave you ’ad, a blinkin’ close shave, swiggl...