VENGEANCE IN HER BONES,
by Malcolm JamesonThe messenger from the Navy recruiting office found old Captain Tolliver in his backyard. The crabby, sour- visaged housekeeper took him as far as the hedge back of the house and pointed the retired mariner out to him. Captain Tolliver was reclining in a ragged canvas deckchair taking the sun. He had on faded dungarees, soft and pliant as linen from hundreds of scrubbings, and the stump of his handless left arm rested carelessly on his lap. The peg-leg that matched it lay in alignment with the one good leg. The captain had his eyes closed, comfortably drinking in the sun’s good heat, when he heard the crunch of the messenger’s step on the gravel walk that separated the vegetable from the flower beds. The old skipper’s hearing was still alert, thou
