We use Optical Character Recognition (OCR) during our scanning and processing workflow to make the content of each page searchable. You can view the automatically generated text below as well as copy and paste individual pieces of text to quote in your own work.
Text recognition is never 100% accurate. Many parts of the scanned page may not be reflected in the OCR text output, including: images, page layout, certain fonts or handwriting.
THE MILLION-DOLLAR MYSTERY
out on deck that night. My camera men had volunteered to help me do the job on the ropes, but I selected Zimmerman and the hardy coloured boy. Now we were inching along the deck while the wind, like a living thing, seemed to clutch us, to drag at us with irresistible force. Finally, through thundering waves and howling winds, we got to the anchor lines. Swinging out over the bow, I tried to shout orders, but it wouldn't work. The wind blew my mouth out of shape so that words wouldn't form, although with the bedlam around me a human voice meant nothing. So I resorted to pantomime and we were soon organized at the lines, wrapping them around with canvas and burlap to stop the chafing. Then we let go and with one slippery slide, we landed back in the cabin. My skin was burning from the force of the torturing pinlike blast of rain. I had gone out dressed in my underclothes, but as I stood in the light of the swinging lantern upon my return to the cabin, I realized my hurricane garments were gone — blown to a September Morn. It had been a strenuous battle, but now we felt more secure, and one by one the men succumbed to drowsiness, while the storm was still howling furiously. Zimmerman was shivering, so I covered him with a soaking wet mattress, and he too eased off to sleep. But there was none of it for me.
Like pendulums on the ends of our long anchor •cables, the two vessels were swinging in the storm and
211