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MOTION PICTURE MAGAZINE broke in Clifford, with conviction; "it's the thing for her. Let's be off —the boys have their stores stowed by now, and the brig's awaiting us." Keener than the gleaming or blood- rusted blades of the buccaneer knives, more cruelly cold than the merciless- ness of the pirates themselves, are thwarted human passions—jealousy, 'it'll be a rough v'yage, my little gal ambition and love. On the pirate ship Eleanor, bound for the plundering of merchant ships, these three ran rife. Even on the South Seas, on coasts where the refining subtleties of civili- zation have never laid their intricate touch, loves are born unasked and fester in the slighted breasts to the breaking point. Cunning greed, par- ents' ambitions, and scheming for more than gold, abound. Thus it was that while Clifford bore in his heart a clean, loyal love for his Atoll Flower, Betty, daughter of the ship's cook, in turn loved him. And again, in turn, Mansher, second mate of the Eleanor, loved her. Presiding, evil-genius-wise, over this tangled skein of loves and hates, sat Betty's mother, nicknamed "The Owl"—perhaps for her cast of countenance—perhaps for the ill- omen reputed to be that bird's significance. It was the night of the third day out — the dingy-sailed, b 1 a c k-p rowed craft, Eleanor, was heading S.S.W., and a silver moon bathed the lulled Pacific. At the helm stood one of the pirate group, watch- ing, in hazy, rum-soaked fashion, the luff of the sail. Down below, the crew were trolling a jolly stave. In the bow, close to the lazy ripple of the Eleanor's stem, cheek by cheek, sat Clifford and Atoll Flower, dreaming dreams that were not fashioned from a pirate's woof and warp. In the shadow of the deck-house, closely touching also, sat Betty and Mansher, but theirs were the dreams that the pirate ship knew and exulted in—dreams woven and gloated over by "The Owl." "Do away with that white-faced water - witch —and then I '11 marry you," Betty was repeat- ing. In a flitting ray of she scanned Mansher's evilly scarred countenance craftily. "Are you loosenin' up on your nerve?" she queried scornfully. "Where is the devil-may-eareness of other lassie's sweethearts? "What have you ever done for mel When have I ever come in for your share of the spoils? Why should I marry you? Tell me that." "Precious little of the loot I've laid my fists on," the second mate re- sponded sullenly; "the claw-fingered crew—they get there first " moonlight