g. 1...... yrw‘wem

 

 

  
  
  
  
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
   
   
  
 
  
  
 
 
   
   
   
 
   
   
  
   
   
   
    
     
    
  
 
  
  
 
  
 
  
   
    
    
   
  
 
   
    
  
  
 
  
  
 
   
 
 
 
 
  
   
  
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
   
  
  
    
    
   
 
   
   
  
 
  
   
   
  
 
  
   
  
   
 
  
  
 
  
  
   
  
   
  
 
  
   
 
  
  
  
  
   
  
 
 
  
   
  
 
  

 

I I P.,Tiu..r.-.,.u..::.g._ .  J _ 
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and take your place in the first mate’s watch——
now on its turn of duty!”

It was Captain Gregg who gruflly gave him
these orders.

“If you please, sir, may I know why I am
here 4” asked Wilkins, humbly.

“ l'es! Because I wanted you! I am short-
handed. You came within my reach, and you’ll
stay there till this brig goes to the Congo {iver
and back !"

“ To Africa 2 Oh, merciful Heaven—what
trade is this brig in g”

“ The Black Bird trade. In short, she is a
slaver. Now I have answered your questions.
I ask none of you. I want no more talk. Do
your duty and Iyou’ll get along with me. Offer
to shirk and ’1] cut the hide from your back.
You are on pay from this day. I’ve put your
name down as John Roe. Names are nothing
here.” ,

But my name is Wilkins, sir, from New York,
sir—”

“ It is not. You are John Roe on my books,
and don’t you forget it. Start for the galley, or
my boatswain there will help you with a rope’s-

end!”

Wilkins started. He saw a grim smile on a
ruffian face. And the man who looked at him,
a giant in stature, carried an inch rope two
yards long wound around his wrist.

At the galley he got a tin cup of black muddy
coffee sweetened With molasses and a couple of
cakes of hard sea-biscuit.

He soaked the biscuit in the coffee and swal-
lowed it. He had not tasted food or drink for
at least thirty—six hours. and almost anything
was palatable to say the least.

After he was through and had replaced the
empty cup in the cook’s galley, a man bearded
so only his eyes and nose were visible called to
him:

“ John Roe, you are in my watch. I’m first
mate, and you’ll soon find me out, If you keep
up your end in work I’ll be as easy on you as a
step-father. But show the first sign of laziness,
and I’m worse than a mother~in-law on washin’-
day! You’ll do duty on the fo’castle—tending
sheets, hauling down tacks and picking oakum
when there’s nothin’ else on hand. Barney Bow-
ker is cap’n o’ the fo’castle, that one-eyed cuss
yonder with red hair. Report to him and he’ll
kee i you at work.”

\ ilkins reported and Barney Bowker pointed
to a pile of old tarred rope cut in short lengths.

“Plank yourself,* and go to pickiii’ oakum
now .’ When I call you, jump, or I’ll break
your back!”

Poor Wilkins! He felt as if his heart would
break. He cursed the hour when he left a com-
fortable berth on shore to playtlie spy on the
“ Queen of the Sea.” And in his misery he (lid
not even dream that he had been purposely sent
on board the slaver by Captain Barnacle.

He had not the slightest idea that a suspicion
of his real character had entered the brain of
the captain or that a living soul on board the
schooner knew of his intended treachery.

He could see that the slaver was short—hand-
ed, and he believed what the captain had said-—
he wanted hands and had secured him because
the chance offered.

The African coast was next thing to death.
Would he ever live through what was before
him? -

“ Take a pull on this fore-tack. Jump, you
lubbers, jump .’” yelled Barney Bowker.

“’ilkins jumped. One poor fellow was slow,
and Bowker knocked him head over heels with
a handspike.
fl “ Bowse down on that tack!” yelled the ruf—

an.

Wilkins pulled on the rope with all his might.
So did the other three who had hold of the tack.

“ There, belay all! That’ll do. Down to the
oakum again, and don’t a lubber of ye look up
till you hear me squawkl”

Humbly the white slaves went to their tasks,
for Barney Bowker never movad a step~wlthout
a rope or a handspike in his hands.

Dinner-time came, and the other watch ate
first—the second mate’s watch, and then reliev-
ed the watch Wilkins served in, and they had
dinner.

A bit of rancid pork—about four or five
ounces, two hard biscuit and a pint of water in
a rusty tin cup.

That was the ration for dinner. Wilkins
ga ged at the (pork and threw it back in the
kiifi He soake the biscuit in the water, ate
them and drank the water. It was hot and
nasty, but he could get no better.

Then he lay down in the shade of the long
boat and tried to get a little sleep. In that he
might for a brief time forget his misery.

e slept; but it seemed to him as if he had
barely closed his eyes when he heard the boat-
swain yell:

" Starboard watch, ahoy! On deck, every
son of a gun! 0n deck, or I’ll help you!”

Four hours had passed, and he was again at
the mercy of Barney Bowker. The wind had
freshened and the brig was pitching into a fear-
ful sea.

“ Haul down and stow the flying jib!” shout—
ed the mate from aft.

“Man that down-haul! Jump, you cusses,
jump !" yelled Bowker, as he stood ready to let
go the halliards.

Every man jumped and seized the rope he
pointed to.

“ All clear—haul down!” was his order as he
unmoored the halliards from the belayiug—pin.

“ Now run out and stow the sail—hang on
with your eyelids, or you’ll go overboard E”

It was a hard and risky piece of work to stow
the sail when the spar went under water at
every plunge of the brig into the sea, but it was
done, and I’Vilkins and three companions came
in drenched to the skin, and again went to pick-
ing oakum.

When this watch was over the men had
supper.

A couple of hard biscuit and a half pint of
colored warm water—bycourtesy called tea. It
was the best ration for the day. Some men
could live on it. Poor Wilkins thought he
would not be long dying on it.

If all his days for a long voyage were to be
like this he did not desire to live. He had
caused many another man to suffer, but he now
got an insight to real suffering himself. Some
of his victims were enduring terms at hard
labor in prison. but they at least were well fed.

CHAPTER XXIII.
THE DUEL—FONTELROY WILL DANCE N0 MORE.~

TOM MCCORD was fishing from the rocks a
little way above his cottage, in a cove from
which the house could not be seen.

The form of “ Mary the Mute” was visible
perched on a rock that overlooked the spot
where the old man was skillfully casting his line
and drawing in blaekfish and bass at a rapid
rate. The men had all drifted off down-town,
but Reddy and he had caught a bad cold the
night he was watching the smugglers at the old
pier down the bay, and he felt like keeping
quiet in the cottage.

Suddenly a small dinghy containing two young
men in nautical style of dress, pulled in from
the river and landed on the rocks close by where
Old Tom was fishing.

One of them carrieda mahogany box, which
Tom in his long experience knew at a glance to
be a pistol-case.

“ Who owns the land hereabout?” asked the
foremost, as he bowed to Tom.

“ I do, for the matter 0’ that, sir. You’re out
o’ town, though inside the lines.”

“ You’ve no objection to our shooting at a
mark near here, have you?”

“ Not the least bit, sir,” said Tom. “ I’m an
old gamekeeper, or was across the water, and
like to see good shooting.”

A cry—as of terror—broke out at that instant
from the girl perched on the rock, and she
jumped off and ran swiftly off through the bush-
es toward the house.

Barnacle had caught a glimpse of that weird
face and was gazin intently at her, for he
thought he had seen t e face before.

“It’s a poor deaf and dumb gal that I keep

 

 

* Sit down on deck.

out 0’ charity at my house, and she’s afeard o’
stran ers,” said Tom, hardly able to account
himse f for the fright of the girl.

Another boat came toward the shore at that
moment with two officers in naval uniform in
it, and one of these had a pistol-case in his lap,
and this drew away from the first comers all
thought of the girl and her flight.

“ I reckon ou’ro goiu to fight a duel,young
men,” said 0 d Tom. “ hat is the tools are
here and the men to use ’em. I, saw one duel,
nigh twenty year ago. I was the only Witness,
and them that fought didn’t know I saw ’em.
They fought with swords, and one of ’em was
killed in the very first clash, run right through
and through. They called it a murder after-
ward, butI knew better. It was a fair stand-
up fight. But the chap that killed his man had
to cut and run. Poor gentleman, he died
abroad, when he was really a lord and rich
too!”

The a proach of Fontelroy and his second,
Doctor pensheid, put a stop to further revela-
tions from Tom.

F ontelroy was white with anger yet, and the
contrast between his pale face and the florid
countenance of his second was marked.

“ We wos brought our own pisdols.” said the
German doctor, ‘und I brought mine instru-
mends, too.”

And he laid down both cases side by side.

“ You’ll need your instruments — we’ve
brought our own pistols also, tools that I am
used to,” said Barnacle, laughing.

Fontelroy scowled ferociously, but he did not
speak. He unlocked his pistol—case and exhibit—
ed a pair of pretty silver-mounted weapons,
about half the “ regulation ” size.

“ I never use pop-guns! Bring out my can-
non, Barnard!” said Barnacle, sneering, as he
glanced at the fancy pistols in the case of his
opponent.

“ Pop-guns may send a bullet through Con-
necticut squash J” said the lieutenant, almost
choking with anger.

“ So act up and measure off the ground,” said
Barnacle. “ This thin-legged baboon is so hun-
gry for squash pie that I pity him!”

‘ Keep your pity for yourself~y0u’ll need it
in less than ten minutes!” res onded Fontelroy.

“Doctor, ou forgot to bring crutches with
you!” said ariiacle, laughing. “ I’m going to
give you a case of amputation. One-legged men
can’t dance, and their chances to win rich wives
are few and far between!”

“Curse you, hold your tongue!” shouted Fon—
telroy, goaded beyond endurance by the cool
taunts of his adversary.

Barnacle was doing what he told Barnard the
night before he would do—getting his opponent
so nervous he wouldn’t be able to hit the side of
a barn.

Barnard gave him no time to cool off! The
German doctor and he picked out a bit of level
greensward back of the rocks and at once pro-
ceeded to measure off the ground and load the
pistols.

Fontelroy had insisted on using his own wea-
pon, and it was not objected to. They would
not be half so dangerous as those of Barnacle,
even in a cool, skillful hand.

In a few minutes the seconds called to their
principals to advance and take their places.

“ Don’t put them slim legs in front of that row
of saplings.” cried Barnacle, addressing the doc-
tor. “ I can’t tell one from the other if you do I”

“ You take your place and get ready to die,”
shouted Fontelroy, shaking with passion.

“ “’ait till he gets cool before you trust the
poor creature with apistol. He is so scared he
shakes like a poplar leaf in a gale.”

Fontelroy almost screamed out:

“ Give me my pistol. If you don’t hurry I’ll
not wait for the word.”

“ Yes, you will,” said Barnard, handing one
Elistol to his ‘principal and holding the other in

.s ’32" ‘dI m’wmmmm 

on. re'an ‘ you as q ,

would shoot a. mad ! Docto‘ r,  “him
hisweapon. ‘Weare y; I lave t sword,
remember, and I shall give it slow and distinct,
3 hpth men can take their time to aim and

e.

The doctor advarped and handed Fontelroy
his pistol, cocked and ready for use.

“ Are you ready, gentlemen?” came next from
Barnard, who had retreated some distance to
keep out of range of Fontelroy’s shot.

“ Ready 1" answered Barnacle, firmly.

“ Read—Read y I” stammered the lieutenant.
“ Fire, one, two, three!”

At the word fire the pistol of Barnacle came
in a line with his eye and at the same instant it
was discharged.

A yell broke from the lips of Fontelroy as the
word “one ” left Barnard’s lips, and his pistol
not yet up to a horizontal position went ofl‘, and
the ball tore up the ground not three yards in
front of him.

“ I’m ruined—my leg is shattered at the knee !”
groaned the lieutenant, as he sunk to the
ground.

“ Poor devil. I’m sorry for him, but he
brought it on himself,” said Barnacle, approach-
ing the wounded man.

“ Keep off, you devil—keep off ! Don’t come
near me!” screamed the wounded officer. “ I
hope you are satisfied now. You have mutilat-
ed my form, crippled me for life, if I don’t die
from what you have done.”

Tears rolled down his pallid cheeks while
he s oke.

“ must get him off to do ship quick, and I
must have help in de boat,” said the bewildered
German doctor, as he knelt down and put a
tourniquet on above the knee.

“ We are willing to aid you in your boat or to
take it in t0wl” said Barnacle.

“ Curse you, I’ll die here before I’ll accept
help from either of you l” screamed the sufferer.
“ I’ll run to my house and get a good boatman
to help the doctor,” said Tom McCord, who had
been an intent locker-on while the affair pro-

grossed.

“ Right: I’ll go with you and pay him for the
job,” announced Barnacle.
“ No need: he’ll take no pay in a case like this.
I’ll be back in less than five minutes.”
He ran off as swift as he could, for he did not
want strangers in his house just then. He
thought of the “ Weasel’ and the possibility of
the girl disguise being pelletrated.
And he was fearfully uneasy when he saw
that Barnacle did follow him, though at a slow-
er ace.
eaching the house he found Reddy and the
boy there, the latter white with fear.
“Where be they? The bloke in that boat is
the same cove I prigged the ticker from when I
knifed the cop!” (The man in the boat is he
whom I robbed of his watch when I killed the
officer.)
“Quick! Open the trap and send him out o’
sight. The man is coming—almost here,”cried
McCord.
Reddy opened the trap and the boy-girl hur-
ried d0wn. The trap had just been replaced,
when Barnacle entered the house.
“Here is the man I spoke of. He’ll help to
row the Dutch doctor and the man you hit to
their ship!” said McCord.
“ All right! Where is that little girl that
ran off when we landed?” asked Barnacle.
“ Off in the woods somewhere, pickin’ flowers.
She doesn’t stay in the house half the time—I
don’t know where she is. W'ould you like to see
her?” asked McCord coolly, though his heart was
full of vague fear.
“ Yes. I take a deep interest in deaf and
dumb children. 1 have a sister-in-law, a sweet
and good girl who is a mute. Besides, I fancied
I had”seen the face of this girl, somewhere be-

ore.

“ Well, I’ll look around for her after we’ve
seen that poor chap off in his boat. Every min-
ute is like an hour to him, now." '
“ You are right, old man. W'e‘ll see them off
and then we’ll look for the girl. If I can do
anything to better her condition, I will be glad
to do it.”
“ Thankee,” said the old man, worried beyond
measure by the persistent desire of Barnacle to
see the gir whose face fairly haunted him.

 

(To be continued—commenced in No. 181.)

CHANGE.

BY HENRI KONTCALK.

 

Once more as in the days of old
I trudge along the highway:
Again I tread the“ cloth of gold "
That skirts the meadow byway;
I climb the hillside slope once more,
And ’neath the beeches yonder
Again, as in the days of yore,
Headlong upon the grassy floor
I fling me down and ponder.

Then down the old familiar way,
And through the summer weather,
(Like we two in the younger day)
Go eye and thought together.
Down through the broken orchard bar,
Beneath the boughs low-bending,
And through the farm-yard gate ajar,
Till, where the porch and roses are,
They find Lheir journey‘s ending.

Mv b0 hood‘s home. ay, there it lies,
a! in the shadow hidden;
And oh. what hosts of memories -
Come crowding up unbidden!
As. just as in the days of yore,
My eyes once more behold it:
The gable-d roof with moss grown o'er,
The roses ‘bOVe the kitchen door
That cling to and infold it.

Yes, all the same—and yet not so;
The old familiar places
No more the merry voices know,
No more the once-loved faces.
The house is there. the home is fled;
Gone is the old-time gladness,
Since they that were irs life are dead,
Jo is departed, and instead
he air is dumb with sadness.

Oh tender hearts that to the last
Made home and heartlistone pleasant!

Oh, loving eyes that from the past
Look down upon the present!

Oh. ghosts of all the dear, dead days,
That constant flit before me:

Go not so soon your own sad ways,

Nor leave so quickly in your place
These new days frowning o‘er me.

The Migni_ghl Bell.

BY THE Fix-REPORTER.

 

 

“ WHILE I am ready to acknowledge that sea-
faring men are more or less superstitious as a
class,” said Captain Day, of the bark Rover, “ I
must at the same time insist that some things
have happened in my own experience that were
hard to explain away by any line of natural
reasoning. Along in the ’sixties I was in com-
mand of a brig called the Osprey, flying the
British flag, and I made a charter from Jamaica
to the port of Georgetown, in British Guiana.
\Ve loaded in fair time and got away with a fair
breeze, and we had run the island out of sight
behind us when the first of several strange
things happened. At midnight, with every-
thing going well aboard, the brig’s bell, began
to toll. I have seen and heard a ship’s bell
strike now and then in a heavy sea; but in this
case, mind you, there was no sea to speak of,
and the brig wasn’t lifting a foot as she climbed
the waves. Without the slightest warning, and
in the dead of night, the bell began tolling, and
it did not cease until it had struck thirty-one
times. The sound rung through the brig loud
and clear, rousing eVerybod y up, and I had just
given ordersto have the bell muffled when it
ceased tolling. The mate and myself stood
right beside it when it struck the last half-
dozen strokes. There was no oscillation of the
tongue, as would have been the case if the brig
had been pitching in a heavy sea, but every
time a stroke was struck the ton ue was pulled
quick and heavy to one side, as i a human hand

had hold of the rope, ,  . V , .
~ .m k‘- D”)? I  the maternawo,

“ ‘Iam thlrty‘  years old this ‘very day.
It’s tollin may birthday and funeral in one.’

“ ‘ Thats l nonsense, Mr. Brown. I can’t
say why the bell should ring as it did, but as for
it being a warning, that’s all bosh. Send the
men about their business, sir, and don’t try to
make a haunted house of my brig!’

“ Half an hour later the wind shifted from
the northwest to north and then to northeast,
and we could no longer ay our course. It came
up strong, too, and in a little time the brig was
lifting and pitching in a nasty sea. We were
reefing and furling to meet the change, and
great patches of foam were being driven
inboard as the gusts caught them up, when, of
a sudden I heard a cry from the sea to lee—
ward, and, in the one brief look I got, I saw the
face and form of the mate as he was driving
away in the darkness of the night. I couldn’t
credit my senses, however, until I had run for—
ward and discovered that he was not to befound
on board, though nobody had seen him go over—
board. We hadn’t been boarded by a sea, and
just how it came about that he left us is some-
thing I have never been able to understand.
We were so hard put to it just then that it was
folly to think of lowering a boat, and the best
I could do was to throw overboard whatever
might answer to buoy him up in case he was
lucky enough to seize it.

“ 1n half an hour the squall had blown itself
out. and the wind quietly settled back until, by
bracing up, we could again lie our course. I
looked upon the mate’s loss as an accident-liable
to happen aboard of any craft, but not so with
the sailors. I caught enough of their mutter-
ings to understand that they firmly believed the
tollng of the bell had all to do with it, and that
this belief was taking the courage out of them.
However, when daylight came they seemed to
think better of it, and the sight of two or three
vessfls keeping us company brought their hearts
bac .

“If I had not been full-handed and under sti—
pulation to reach Georgetown at the earliest pos-
sible hour, I should have hauled up for Hayti or
Porto Rico to secure a new mate. Under the
,circumstanees I concluded to make Trinidad, if
possible, but when this l(lizfision was conveyed
to the men I could see t they were not over
well pleased. During the day we had north and
northwest winds, with no sea to speak of, and
we rattled along through the Caribbean Sea in
a way to make good the delays of the previous
night. The second mate was a fair officer and
a willing one, and during the afternoon I got a
very satisfactory nap while he was in charge.
At ten o’clock that night we had a five-knot
breeze, a starlight sky, and plain sailing, and
the mate turned in until I should call him. At
11 o’clock the yards were braced a bit as the
wind hauled a trifle, but from that to 12 not a
rope was touched. At five minutes to midnight
I passed the bell and noticed that most of the
watch on deck were cat-napping wherever they
could find a place to lop down.

“ One—two—three— four! ‘

“ At exactly midnight that bell began tollin
again, and it rung off twenty-seven strokes and
stopped. IVhen it had struck about a dozen
times I went forward and stood beside it. Once
I reached out my hand to restrain the tolling,
but the thought came that if the signals meant
disaster to us it would do no good to cut them
short. Was I frightened? Honestly I was not.
I never did go a cent on ghosts and goblins, and
I felt that there was some natural cause for the
ringing. Every soul aboard was on deck before
the bell had sounded its twentieth stroke, and
when the last echoes 'were carried off on the
wings of the wind the sailors moved aft in a
body, and an old salt spoke up:

“ ‘ Captain, bein’ as this ’ere brig is doomed,
and bein’ as we don’t want to go to the bottom
with her, it’s our opinion that we can’t get out
the boats too soon.’

“ ‘ You are co wards and fools,’ I answered.
‘ There is simply something wrong about the
way this bell is hung, and as we happen to run
on a certain course the tongue is set swinging.’
“ ‘ But why just at midnight?’ asked one of
the sailors.

“ ‘ And why did it ring thirty-one last night
and only twenty-seven to—night ?’ demanded
another.

 

“ ‘ Go back to your sleep. To-morrow we will
overhaul it, and I warrant you we shall find a
natural cause.’

“As I went aft I noticed that the wind was
freshening,and I looked around for Mr. Barnes,
the mate. I thought I saw him come on deck
while the bell was tolling, but as he was not in
sight, I sent one of the men down to call him.
He was not in his stateroom. We made a
search of the brig, but he was not on board.
That he had lain down was lain enough, but
how he could have disa poured) without any one
seeing him was a mys cry which made me un-
comfortable. I‘Ve did not have a squall, as on
the previous night, but the wind shifted three
times and whipped to the south before it set—
tled down. I had to fairly drive the men to
their work with a belaying-pin, and the second
mate was of no earthly good to me. When,
after an hour or so, we had got settled down to
our course again, he came to me and said:

“ ‘ Captain Day, we must take it as a warn-
ing. Mr. Barnes was 27 years old.’

“ ‘ Pooh! man, when daylight comes we shall
see everything explained. If you are afraid you
can 0 forward with the men.’

“ ' he threat to disrate him braced him up a
little, but it was easy to see that I had a job on
my hands. I made up my mind that when day-
light came we would make a thorough search
of the bri . If the missing man could not be
found, an a vessel was in sight, I would signal
her and secure the services of a mate. If not,
and the crew did not recover from their funk, I
would hold away for Hayti and make a port.
As the dawn came I put every man into the
search, and we didn’t leave a rat-hole which
wasn’t looked into, but it was all in vain.
From all that I could see with my own eyes,
the man had turned in, slept for I could not
say how long, and then got up and disap-
peared. The fact that we could not find him
aboard was firoof that he had gone into the sea,
but why? e was a sober, honest fellow, a
good sailor, and apparently in the best of health.

Vhat could the tolling of the bell have had to
do with his mysterious disappearance?

" Not a sail of any sort was in Sight, and as
the sun came up the breeze which had held with
us through the night began to die away, and by
eight o’clock there was a dead calm. I saw
from the actions of the men that they were
broken up, and I called them aft and made a
little speech, promising to speak the first ship
or bear away for Rico. I gave them to under—
stand that I would do this to ship a new mate
not because the telling bell had upset me or I
believed there was anything wrong with the
brig. While this did not altogether satisfy
them, they had to make the best of it. There
were men among them who could read the
,weather well enough to understand that we’d
get no wind that day, and they wanted to es-
cape passing another night aboard. I selected
the oldest sailor to fill the place of mate, and
all daylong we wallowed in the ground swell
without wind enough to flutter a ribbon. I in-
spected the bell, and I even took it down and
hung it up again. but I could make out no
reason why it should have tolled out the
death—knells of my two officers in that queer
manner.

“ When the sun went down I knew that we
should have a breeze at midnight, and I was
fully determined to bear up for Rico. We were,
as you Will understand, broken up as to watches,
and you may also guess that, under the circum-
stances, I did not feel like leaving the deck for
any length of time to the sailors. At eleven
o’clock, when the first puffs came, we were all
on deck. The breeze came out of the west, and
I held the brig up for the island I have named.
I l{vent belgiir soon after eleven to (éonsulk t m

e arts, an was 'ust coming on ec again
when we otahudand sudden pufl from the
am“ which,’ ,Inado, thing M, form" , g
 n ’ ,  -

 
 

' . “hf W ’1
lion! he donated the;
perhaps went aloft with the
ther seen nor missed him, nor do I believe that
any of us know the exact time within a quarter
of an hour when that cursed bell suddenly
clanged out. At the ve first stroke the men
set u a mournful how , and the man at the
whee deserted his post and ran forward. I
shouted to him, but he would not halt, and with
a jump or two I had hold of the spokes just in
time to prevent a calamity.
“ ‘ Tolll Toll! Toll!’
“ It was the wildest, weirdest sound you ever
heard. It just made the chills creep over me as
I counted the strokes. I was then 34 years of age.
Was the bell tolling for my death? After the
strokes had passed twenty—five my heart was in
my mouth as I counted. As the thirtyJourth
stroke rung out a child could have pushed me
over. Was that the last? No!
“ ‘ T011! T011! Tolll’ came the mournful
sound, and I counted up to forty-three before
the tongue ceased to move. I was not the
victim. Who was? When it was plain to the
men that the bell had ceased ringin , they came
aft in a body and demanded that t e long-boat
be hoisted out at once, and it- was with the
greatest difficulty that I could get one of them
to relieve me at the wheel. I could not see
that any one was missing, and so I replied to
them:
“ ‘ The bell has tolled again, sure enough, but
what of it? Are we not all here ?’
“ ‘ No, sir,’ answered one. ‘ None of us have
seen Davidson for this last quarter of an hour.’
“ Davidson was the old sailor who was acting
as mate, and we at once began a search for him.
I sent men aloft, and sent others below, but he
could not be found. His cap was picked up on
the deck at the foot of the foremast, but as for
the man himself, he had disappeared just as
mysteriously as the others. I was thoroughly
beat, sir, but at the same time determined not
to give in. I owned half of the brig myself,
and I had a charter which would put hundreds
of dollars in my pocket. I didn’t propose to let
the hobgoblins stand in my way, but I soon
found that the crew would. They were bound
to leave her at once, and when I started for the
cabin to get a revolver to back my commands,
I was seized and tied hand and foot.
“ ‘ It’s no use, Captain Day,’says one of the
men to me as he assisted to draw the lashings.
‘You are a kind-hearted man and a good cap-
tain to sail with, but the brig has been given
over to the devil, and we won 1: stop in her.’
“ ‘ And what will you do?’
“ ‘ Hoist out the long—boat, take water, provi-
sions, and compass and make for the nearest
land. It’s the only chance to save our lives.’
“ ‘ But I won’t go with you.’
“‘ That is for you to decide, sir. If you don’t
go, then we will leave you in the best shape we
can. knowing that we shall never see you
again.’
“ ‘ They went at it and hoisted the boat off her
Chocks and got her over, working like men who
every moment expected to be attacked from
some quarter. They fitted her out, took a spare
compass and chart from the cabin, and it was
within half an hour of daylight when they were
ready to leave.
“ ‘ Now, Captain Day,’ said the sailor Who
had spoken before, as he came to untie me,
‘ we shall be glad of your company. Is it go or
sta ?

“3; Stay xv
“ ‘ Very well; it’s a captain’s business to stick
to his ship to the last. Don’t blame us that we
are trying to save our own lives. As I said,
we’ll do all we can for you.’
“ By his orders several of the sails were taken
in, leaving only good steerage way on her. Wa-
ter, meat, bread, etc., were placed where they
could be reached by one standing at the‘ wheel,
and I was unbound.
“ ‘ Men, you will regret this,’ I said, as I saw
them preparing to go. ‘The chances are that
we would sight a vessel before noon.’
“ ‘ Ay, ay, sir,’ was the reply, ‘ but suppose we
do sight one and ship new mates, what’s to pre-
vent that bell from ringing again and taking off
another man?’
“ ‘ But we are headed for the island.’

 

and nights away, and for every night a man
must go.’

“ Their arguments were unanswerable. It
was a mutiny to save their own lives, as they
believed. They spoke respectfully and kindly,
and when ready to cast off one of them ob-
served:

“ ‘ “’9 ask you again, captain, to come along
with us and leave a. craft which the devil has
certainly come to live in.’

“ ‘ No, I can’t go.’

“ ‘ Then it’s good-by to you, and God knows
we hope you may pull through all right.
Would you mind giving us the course to steer
b '?’

“ ‘ By keeging due north you will run ashore
on the islan of Hayti.’

“ Next moment they were gone, and I was
alone on the brig. It was not lon to da light,
however, and as 1 held to the nort east chould
see them far away to the north. An hour be-
fore noon a British bark bound around to Rio
Janeiro came up with me. In addition to re-
ducin sail, the men had run up a signal of dis-
tress or me, and this’brought a boat aboard, to
be followed by men enough to help me work the
Osprey into port. You must not conclude that
I was green enough to tell ’em the whole story
of how I came to be alone. I put it down as a
mutiny, saying nothin of the tolling bell and
the singular deaths. wing to light winds we
were two days and two nights getting up to Rico,
but the bell had got through tolling. Not an—
other sound did it utter except when struck by
human hands.

“The crew of the long—boat? Their fate was
adding mystery to mystery. They were well
fitted out, not more than 175 miles from the
coast, and should have run no danger from the
weather, but they were neither picked up nor
landed. Inquiries were made everywhere for
three or four years, but no living man saw them
after they passed out of my sight.”

’ Solid Sol,

THE YANKEE HERCULES;

on,
A New Hampshire Tramp in Texas.

 

BY CAPT. FRED. WHITTAKER,

AUTHOR or “PARSON JIM,” “SITTING BULL,
THE RED MONARCH,” ETC., ETC.

 

CHAPTER XXVII.
THE SECOND RAID.

SOL turned his head in the direction indicated
by the little man, and saw a cloud of dust com—
ing down from the upper part of the river. in
a manner that indicated a considerable body of
horsemen, while the feathers and bright colors,
that could be seen at intervals, showed that
Pe per was right in taking them for Indians.
hat was worse for the two men, was the
fact that the Indians. although at some distance
from them, were yet already almost between
them and the banks of the river, in such a. man-
ner that the white men realized they could not
get there, without running the gantlet of the
whole body of warriors. IVhat had brought
them back, and whether their intentions were
hostile or not, neither could tell; but they knew
that it would not do to test the matter by ridin
that way. Without any hesitation. Sol turned
his horses down the river, and rode away at a
rapid rate from Candeliero, followad by Pep-

 

     
    

Ihndnei-

           

  

fifimgfim   :-
wan them past the age of 
But they had not been riding in the new direction
long, before they heard a ell from the midst of
the dust; and the whole y came sweepin
after them, at a rate that showed the bag
Eileen seen, and that the Indians were chasing
em.

Whether this band was the same that had
made the raid, or a different one, the could
not tell; but suspected the worst from t e way
in which they were followed.

Pepper rode a splendid horse and 801’s
mounts, though not so good, yet, having each
onriy half his weight to carry, made ood slpeed.

hey might have gone back to ande iero:

but both realized that they would be about as
badly ofl' there, asany place. So they made the
best of their way down the river, edgin as
close to it as they dared; but finding the egort
in vain. Whoever the Indians were, they seem-
ed determined to shut off the white men from
the river, and succeeded so well that, after an
hour’s riding, though they had not gained on
Sol and his friend, the two men were further
frgm the water than when they had begun their
n e.
As long as they did not try to gain the river,
the Indians did not press them close, and Pepper
at last said:
“They’ve got us. Solid Sol. Thar ain’t no
way We kin git home, without givin’ ’em a
brush.”
Sol had been glancing back at the Indians all
the tlime he was riding; and now he answered
5 ow :
“I’m thinking, Pepper, that it’s that young
Geronimo. He’s been watchin’us: and he’s sot
on gittin’one of us, if notstwo, to roast some-
whar up in the mountains.”
“ He don’t git me without he roasts the meat
arter the man’s dead,” was the resolute reply.
“ I’d sooner trust the Greasers of Candeliero,
than an Injun, any time. The Greasers don’t
roast a man, though they might shoot him.”
It was growing near sunset as he spoke; but
neither man dared to relax his pace, though
their horses were growing weary and sweating
profusely. Before them stretched a country
covered with dense coppice wood, called “ chap-
arral.” and as Sol saw it, he said:
“If we kin' git into that wood, Pe per, we
may hide from ’em yet, for the night. n’t ye
think so?”
Pepper shook his head.
“ It’s full moon, or the red cusses wouldn’t be‘
aout. They would hunt us up, jest as quick. in
moonlight as in daylight. I’m afeard we’ve
got to go under. Ef the cunnel had only done
his dooty, we needn’t be hyar naow.”
As he spoke So], who, from his greater hight
and his position in riding two horses, command-
ed a better view of the country than the small
cowboy, caught sight of the waters of the river
where it took a bend, right in front of them at
some miles 011'. He glanced back at the Indians
and saw that he would get a chance to escape if
theyd did not prove able to increase their
spe .

He urged his horses on to greater exertions,

crvi, v‘gn : .

“ e’ll git to the river yet, Pepper. Thar it
is, in front of us, and once on the other side, we
are safe.”

Pepper uttered a shout of joy as he stood up
in his stirrups and caught sight of the water in
the distance.

Within an hour from the time when they first
sighted the river the two friends were riding
straight toward it in open prairie, while the In-
dians behind them Were urging their horses!
With their .short whips, yelling frantically and
trying their best to catch up, but unable to
overcome the start they had given the white
men.

Sol dashed into the water with his two horses
and Pepper followed when the Indians Were
still a quarter of a mile off. By the time they
came up both men were out in the bed of the
stream, which was so shallow that their horses
had not yet found themselves obliged to swim.

But the very shallowness of the stream was a
disadvantage, for the current would not carry
them down, and their progress, with the water

 

“‘Exactly, sir, but it’s two or three days

up to the bellies of their animals, was necessari-

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
    
   
    
  
 
  
   
    
  
 
  
   
 
   
    
    
     
  
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
   
    
    
   
   
 
 
 
  
 
     
   
   
    
   
  
     
 
 
 
   
  
   
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
    
  
   
  
 
   
  
   
    
  
 
   
 
   
 
   
  
 
  
     
   
   
  
  
  
 
  
   
  
  
    
 
  
 
 
 

 

 

 

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