m

 

 

 

  
  
  
 
 
  

 

' in cons

 

 

 

 

«edits cleaner

 

 

 

ABOVE _A__’ GRAVE.

BY [BEN E. REXFORD.

 

Sleep well, dear friend. this peaceful day
Upon the earth's warm breast,

As a tired child who drops away
ln mother-arms to rest.

Dream of a thousand happy things,
Oh. sorely-wearied heart,

While over you, in coming springs,
The creeping grasses start

May sweetest rest be yours, my friend,
Whose hand I lose from mine,

The peace of God that shall not end,
Deep, tender, and divine.

Your voice, through all the coming years,
Will linger in our ear,

And we shall see, through falling tears,
The face we cover here.

But when we miss iyour presence most,
And long to tone your hand

We shall not feel that you are lost,
Dear heart, you understand!

So, while true friendship drops its tear
[n hearts whose loss is sore,

We go our ways and leave you here
Remembering evermore.

 

 

The Tale of a Shin.

A Befpre-the-Mast Man’s Yarn.

 

BY FRANK H. CONVERSE.

A SAiLon’s sea-chest is seldom overstocked
after he has followed the sea a few years. Thus
with my own at the time of which I write. Or
else I certainly should have given my unlucky
woolen shirt a sea toss long before.

Of course it seems absurd to connect the super-
stition of luck or ill-luck to so prosaic a garment.
And excepting for its sanguinary hue there was
nothing suggestive of evil in this one of mine——
rather the contrary. It was made of the heavi-
est Havre flannel, double-breasted and eruptive,
with smoke arl buttons almost '18 large as a
tea-plate. nd a genuine Havre shirt is among
the most prized of a sailor’s earthly 1308895510138.

It is warmer than anything of the kind made,
almost water-proof by reason of its thickness,
and is supposed to never fade or wear out.

But as far back as I could trace it the history
of the shirt had been a peculiar one. An old
shi mate—Jim Randall—claimed to have stolen
it mm a cannibal-ess in the Tongaboo group
where he was once a prisoner. The lady wore
it a la “ Mother Hubbard ” on festive occasions
—possibly as a tribute to the memory of its
original owner who had furnished a meal to his
captors.

Jim escaped with his life and the Havre shirt.
Then when he was washed overboard in a China
Sea typhoon and his few personal effects were
auctioned off in the forecastle, the red garment
was knocked down to myself with a pair of sea—
boots. Across the left breast was a sharp slash
as that of a knife-blade which its feminine
owner had neatly stitched up with shark-
sinews.

“ I rod’er you wear dat shirt—not me, Harry,”
a Russian Finn shipmate had said—calling my
attention as he spoke to the significant cut,
round the edge of which was a slight discolor-
ation—“ bring bad luck, for sure.”

But sailors are not apt to be oversqueamish,

where clothing is concerned, and I myself was
then free from the ordinari7 sea superstitions.
Yet, curiously enough, the first time I wore it
on the voyage I slipped from the stock of the
anchor we were “ fishing ” while going down the
Mersey and came within an ace of drowning
before I was picked up bya tow-boat. Later on
in the voyage I wore it for “ dress—up” one Sun—
day and was knocked senseless by a sheet-block
while tacking ship.

A shipmate whose wardrobe was even scantier
than my own borrowed it while his two (and
only) drenched shirts were drying. He fell from
the slings of the foreyard while reefing that
very afternoon and broke his leg in two places.
And when finally, one night, I wore the unlucky
garment ashore at San Francisco and was twice
shot at by a zealous policeman who mistook me
for the burglar he was pursuing—wh , I began to
feel a little queer about the red avre shirt

myself.
So I finally tucked it away in the bottom of
chest. and after being ashore some weeks
had nearly forgotten about it. American ships
were ver scarce in San Francisco that season.
SO I flna ly accepted a mate’s berth in a Ger-
man brig belonging to Hamburg bound to the
South Sea on a trading voyage—so I was given
to understand.

In a sense, it was a trading voyage. Captain
Hersgoff. who spoke English with a strong gut-
tural accent, had on board a quantity of second-
hand clothing and cheap "notions ” which at
the islands of the Gilbert Archi Iago and ad-
joining groups were bartered or cobra (the
dried kernel of the cocoanut), palm—oil and other
native productions.

But this was only a part Of the business. The
brig belonged to Godefrow and Son, who at that
time owned several islands of the Samoan group
on which they have extensive plantations. The
Samoan as a rule prefers lying in his hammock
smoking or dozing, the year round, to doing

lantation or any other kind of work to which
he is not actually forced. So laborers are hired
from the more unfrequented islands which we
visited in the brig Gretchen.

Labor was decidedly cheap in this part of the
world. Five dollars in Chilian or Mexican mo-
ney bindin a native to a five years’ contract to
work on a amoan plantation, is not excessive
pay. True, good food, fair treatment and cloth-
ing are included—the clothing consisring of two
or three yards Of cotton cloth, with a six—cent
straw hat for head—gear.

Yet this was all—sufficient to induce nearly
fifty well-formed islanders to engage with the
agent who accompanied us on the trip, and we
landed the entire lot in excellent condition at
Upaloa Island, twenty-one days from the Gil-
bert group.

Well, having discharged our live cargo in
Upaloa, we laid in the harbor a few days for
the purpose of setting up the heat-warped rig—
ging, tarring down, and various other “jobs”
necessitated by tropic weather.

Now, while the European settlement in Upa-
Inn is very small, thcre is the usual degree of
sacalled “ civilization.” That is to say. there
are two or three large. airy “ tea-gardens," a
couple of open dancing pavilions, and more or
less small 'n—shops, scattered among the few
English an German residences. For the rest,
the Upaloans are a light-lined, light-hearted,
one -going people. and .the pretty olive-skinned
gir s are never averse to harmless flirtation and
unlimited dancing, of which they are as fond as
the Cubans.

then added to this is the fact that dress-
suits and irreproachable linen are not called for
in society, the easiest possible negligée being the
universal rule, it will be seen that Upaloa has
attractions besides those of its tropic beauty and
climate of perpetual summer.

Finding that bright colors were regarded
with favor ashore, I fished out my Havre shirt,
which, worn in conjunction with white duck
trowsers, low shoes, and a straw hat, created
quite a sensation, inasmuch as the red shirt was
the only one of its kind in port—blue being the
prevailing shade.

Yet, afloat 0r ashore, it would seem that the
shirt was fated to bring its wearer into trouble.
As it happened, Captain Burril, of the Arethusa
—the only English vessel lying in port—came
ashore the same evening. He was a burly bully
whom I remembered as a former chief mate of
the old packet ship Albion, on board which, as
a common sailor, I had incurred his dislike, and
uence he made the voyage from New
York to iverpool—as he had boasted—a “ hot
one "for me. I always vowed that if we ever
met ashore one of us would get a jolly good
thrashing, but as the years passed on and my
wrath had cooled, on meeting him at Upaloa I

felt no particular animosity against him. But,
curious y enough, he remembered me, and the
old bullying propensity rose to the surface.
The captain wore a light suit of East India seer-
sucker, and in consequence was disposed to be
insolently facetious at the expense of the fated
Havre shirt as the evening wore on and the gin-
punch beganto take effect.
Well, I am not a quarrelsome person natural-
ly, but after a time Captain Burril‘s sneers and
remarks became too marked to pass unnoticed,
and I resented them rather hotly. One word
led to another and the natural consequence fol—
lowed.
Slugging descriptions should be left to the
columns of sporting papers. It is enough to
say that we both were tolerany well punished,
but what is even more humiliating, were arrest-
ed and locked up for the night in a crazy struc-
ture which represented the only place of con-
finement in an island where crime is compara-
tively unknown—petty larcenies or native quar—
rels being the most serious offenses brought be-
fore the Dutch magistrate.
On the payment of a fine we were released
toward evening of the following day, and I
went aboard the Gretchento receive a rather
sharp reprimand from Captain Hersgoff for
what had occurred. This was by no means cal—
culated to soothe my feelings, and in a very
wrathful frame of mind I proceeded to change
my soiled apparel.
“There, confound you,” I growled as strip-
ping off the Havre shirt I flung it furiously over
the rail out into the soft darkness, “ you‘ve
brought me trouble enough, I’ll he quit of you
now for good.” And having donned my every—
day attire, I smokcd and sulked on the quarter
gill it was time to turn in under my mosquito
ar.

Not caring to show a badly-discolored eye, I
remained on board rather more than a week
without leaving the brig, during which time two
trading schooners and an English bark dropped
anchor in the harbor.

All hands excepting myself had gone ashore
in the large boat, the small one being alongside,
so that when Captain Hersgoff hailed I could go
after him, as his dignity would not permit him
to come Off with the crew, who generally re-
turned in a more or less hilarious condition.

The night was calm and still, and as I sat
smoking on the quarter, I could faintly hear
the revelry going on in the distant tea gardens
and dancing booths, whose twinkling lights
were plainly visible through the soft darkness.
All at once the music itself ceased and I heard
confused shouts and cries suggestive that some—
thing unusual had happened.

as the tumult seemed to subside after a time, I
gave it no ‘particular thought. Nearly an hour
passed, an then the noise of approaching oars
was followed by the bumping of a boat along-
side, containing eight or ten men the most of
whom were Europeans.

“ Dat him—only he hab change clo’se and no
hab red shirt on now,” cried a Kanaka, whom 1
dime remembered as one of the waiters at
Dutch Charlie’s, where my affray with Captain
Burril had occurred.

And before I fully realized what had happen-
ed. I was seized by half a dozen excited Eng-
lish sailors, the most of whom belonged to the
Arethusa, clapped in irons and taken ashore
before the American consul on the charge of
havmg murdered Captain Burril, who that
evening had been stabbed to the heart a few
moments after leaving one of the dancing pa-
vilions.

The Kanaka and another waiter having heard
the scuffle ran out just in time to see a man of
my own size and build with a black mustache—
a straw hat pulled well over his eyes, who wore
a red Havre shirt with large white buttons and
white duck trowsers, esca ing from the spot
where Captain Burril’s life ess body was lying.
My altercation with the deceased—some hasty
threats I had made after we were separated. my
very evident agitation and the small-boat ly-
ing alongside the brig, were brought forward as
additional evidence of mv guilt. And the fact
thata search of my effects failed to show any
signs of the tell—tale Havre shirt, was regarded
as a most suspicious thing in itself!

Vainly I ex lained and protested my inno-
cence! The uropean sailors, full of gin and
excitement, resolved to take the matter into
their own hands regardless of the remonstrance
of the American consul—the more particularly
that the timid native authoritiesseemed perfect-
ly paralyzed—this being the first tragedy of the
kind ever known in the primitive community.

A length of running—gear was procured from
one of the vessels and thrown over the limb Of a
big eucalyptus tree which shaded the little mar-
ket-place in the center of the settlement. With
my wrists knotted behind me, I was hoisted
upon a pyramid of empty gin-cases, and the
noose deftly adjusted by an English sailor named
Norton.

Up to this moment I could not rid myself of
the conviction that I was the victim of some
terrible nightmare. The flickering torches
throwing into stronger relief a small sea of
anger-distorted, gin-inflamed faces. The crowd
Of timid, horrified natives hovering in the rear—
all had seemed as some fantastic vision.

I could hear Captain Hersgoff’s voice upraised
in expostulation that was entirely disregarded,
while not far off the American consul—a super-
aunuated old man, was wringing his hands and
occasionally threatening to report the matter to
the Government at home.

“ If you’ve anything to say, you‘ve got just
two minutes left,” said Norton, who, with two
others, stood ready to kick the boxes from under
my feet.

I pulled myself together and simply said that
I was entirely innocent—that—

“ Holloa there!” shouted a hoarse but power-
ful voice—and a moment later a man about my
0 .vnage—black-mustached, wearing a straw hat,
dingy duck trowsers, and my old red Havre
shirt made his way through the crowd to my
side.

“ ’Vast perceedin’s—d’ye hear, shipmates?” he
exclaimed, in accents which were unmistakably
those of an English sailor; “if there’s any
hangin‘ to be done. I’m the wictim—not that
there Yankee mate.”

“ English Bill!” said some one, as the crowd
swayed to and fro and crowded around the new-
comer, who, as I soon learned, was a “ beach-
comber,” to use the technical term fora resident
runaway sailor in a foreign port.

“ Yes, it‘s English Bill,” was the bold re-
sponse, “ the sailor whose own twin were tied up
by the thumbs in the riggin’ aboard the \Vin’sor
Cas‘le in Callao and beat to death by Cap’n John
Burril nigh seven year ago! Shipmates,” the
fearless seafarer went on, turning and speaking
with a sort of rude but impressive oratory, “ I
were ashore in Callao at the time with the rest
of the W'in’sor Cas‘le’s crew, and I swore I’d
knife Cap’n Burril when and where I met him,
if it were twenty year after. To—night I run
afoul of him for the first time comin’ out of the
dancevroom, and I was as good as my word .”’

Well, there was a sudden revulsion of the
public sentiment— not only toward myself, but,
singularly enon h, toward English Bill. For,
while my own onds were quickly loosed, an
undercurrent of sympathy went out toward the
bold-spoken sailor, who, on the point of escap-
ing, had turned back when he accidentally
learned that an innocent man was to suffer for
his crime.

As I afterward learned, the beach-comber.
sculling past the Gretchen in the darkness, had
picked up and appropriated my Havre shirt,
though he had never worn it until the night of
the murder. And this, taken with the man‘s
passing resemblance to myself, had nearly
caused my own end by “ Lynch law.”
Singularly enough, though English Bill was
allowed to make his escape to a passing whaler,
I learned of his death some monthslaterby being
taken down in a “foul” line and never again
coming to the surface. And the runaway whale-
man who told me was quite positive that Eng—
lish Bill had on the Havre shirt with the smoke
pearl buttons. I sincerely hope that this last is
true.

 

“ A row of some kind,” was my thought, but.

BRIDAL SONG.

BY EMILIE CLARE.

 

 

You have met at the altar to utter,
The vows that must bind you for life,

And friends with their songs and with blessings,
Have hailed you as husband and wife;

They have given from treasures the rarest
The TRUTH with its life-giving ray;

Though golden the clasps that confine it,
Don’t lay the dear Bible away!

The angels will linger to witness,
The love where a Savior is dear—
Where Faith and where Peace are united.
And Hope your rough pathway may cheer.
Though your gifts were the ems of the ocean,
Or gold from the mines of athay,
The truth from the Bible’s dear pages,
Are brighter and purer than they.

There's a lamp in God’s word that will lighten
Ni ht’s gloomiest hours into day,

And end you to pleasures immortal:—
Don‘t lay the dear Bible away!

 

THE

Rival Mome Cristos;

‘I

THE SEA SPIDERS.

A Companion Story to “ Zulita, the Queen of the
Island Rovers,” and a Romance of
American Waters.

 

BY COLONEL PRENTISS INGRAHAM,
AUTHOR OF “MERLE, THE MUTINEER,” “ MON-
TEZUMA, THE MERCIL‘ESS,” “THE OCEAN
GYPSY,” “ ZULITA," ETC., ETC.

 

CHAPTER XX.
A ROVER KING’S TREASURE.

IV HEN the dawn came upon the island retreat,
the three persons upon the brig were eagerly
glancing ashore, to discover if there was any
Sign of a human being having remained behind
when the Rovers departed.

Dunbar Kennon felt that if so, he held the ad-
vantage, by being on the brig, as he did not be-
lieve that there was a boat in the lagoon, other
than the sloop with a hole stove in her side.

As there were plenty of arms, muskets and
pistols, and two small guns on thebrig, they could
defend themselves from an ordinary force,
while they had the means of going to sea, if
driven to it, in the little surf skiff, which Dun-
bar Kennon and Paul had most skillfully repair-
ed diiring the night, put a mast and sail in and
provisioned with all that was needed for a
couple of weeks’ run, in which time he hoped
they could reach an island port of the \Vest In-
dies.

Of course he knew the danger of their going
to sea in so small a boat, but if it came to the
worst, they could do so.

When the daylight came they searched the
shore for some sign of life; but as no one appear-
ed. Dunbar Kennon entered the boat to pull
ashore, first pointing one of the cannon shore-
ward to cover his retreat, and setting Paul to
man it.

But he landed in safety, and after a thorough
search of the island, became convinced that
there was no one there, that all the Rovers had
de arted.

0 he returned to the brig and took Paul and
Zulita ashore.

While the latter took a walk over the island,
the young captain and Paul set to work to get
the brig into the lagoon, fearing that she might
be seen from a vessel, should one pass the isl—
and, and also she was in danger of being
wrecked, if a storm were to spring up from that
quarter.

To get up the anchor was impossible, for it
was beyond the strength of two men to man the
Windlass; but the cable was slipped and the brig
was slowly towed into the lagoon, and there
moored by ropes stretching on either side to
trees on the shore.

This was tedious work, and it was nearly noon
before the brig was in safety. '

Then Dunbar Kennon set Paul to work upon
the little sloop, with the remark:

“That is the craft, Paul, in which we must
leave this island, and I wish to delay here no
lon er than is necessary.”

“ 0, master, for the Rovers might land here
any day, so we’ll get the boat in trim,” was the
answer.

There were plenty of tools on board the brig,
with wood to Work with, spars and canvas, and
Paul was a good ship—carpenter along with his
other accomplishments.

The sloop, as I have said, was some ten tons
burden. and lay where at high tide she would
float into deeper water.

There was quite a hole in her starboard side
at the water inc, and excepting her mast and
the bowsprit she had no spars, while she had
been stripped of her rig and canvas.

But she was otherwise in perfect condition,
and Paul set to work with a will to cut out the
crushed planking and set in new, while Dunbar
Kennon started off in search of Zulita, about
whom he suddenly began to feel anxious, as she
had been gone for several hours.

From place to place he went, on the island,
calling her name, and at last had an answer from
the round structure known as the Red House,
where the Three Wise Men, the judges of the
Island Rovers, dispensed justice, or punishment
for minor offenses committed by the people.

The Hall of Justice was an odd structure,
round, painted red and black, and with a
thatched roof, in which were skylights, for
there were no windows in the walls and only one
door.

This door was open, and entering it Dunbar
Kennon beheld his wife.

She was kneeling at the side of the dais or
bench, on which the Three Wise Men had sat in
judgment when there, and she had removed it
from its former place.

Before her, as he entered the place, he noticed
that the earth had been removed to the depth of
several feet, and she was leaning over, still get-
ting out the earth with an old shovel.

“ Why, Zulita, what are you doing?” he asked,
in surprise.

“ You have been gone for hours, and I was
alarmed about you, fearing that after all some
one had been on the island." '

“ Have I been gone so long, Kennon?

“ I hardly knew it, for I have been so busy,”
she said, rising and standing by his side.

He saw that her manner was suppressed, her
face flushed, and there was a strange look in her
e es.

y“ My dear Zulita, are you ill, for your face is
flushed, as from fever?

“ I fear you have had to bear too much of
late,” and he took her hand in a way that showed
his anxiety for her.

“ No, Kennon, I am’not ill in the heart, unless
it be from joy.

“ Do you see there?” and she pointed down into
the hole at her feet.

‘3 Yes.”

“ Let me tell you a secret, tell you that we
need be no longer poor.”

“ What do you mean, Zulita?”

“ I mean that the Island Rovers’ King has a“

certain share of all gold that is gotten by his

so le.
p “ his was a law made by my grandfather,
and when he died he left my father a very hand—
some fortune in treasure.

“ M father in turn left it to me. along with
what e had accumulated during his long rule as
King of the Island Rovers.

“ This treasure, in gold and jewels, with cost—
ly jewelry and silverware, he hid on this island,
and I alone held the secret.

He placed it here, before the Rovers landed
and built the Red House over it.

 

 

“ All this I knew, but I could not get the gold
before I left, and so I told you my fortune was
lost to me.

“ When you told me that this island was de—
serted by the Rovers I feared for my treasure;
but 1 came here, and all seemed undisturbed.

“ I found this old shovel, moved the dais and
went to work, and there is the iron box and the
treasure is within it, Kennon.

“ Now do you wonder at myjoy. for it is ours,
my noble husband, ours, to do with as we wish,
and if you lost your fortune from marrying me,
I have brought you one that will replace it.”

And as she spoke Zulita threw her arms
around the neck of Dunbar Kennon and burst
into tears.

 

CHAPTER XXI.
A NARROW ESCAPE.

FOP. some moments neither Zulita nor Dunbar
Kennon spoke.

The woman seemed too full of happiness to do
more than weep for joy, and into the heart of
the man came a flash of feeling almost amount-
ing to revenge.

It came upon him that if this treasure was as
great as Zulita believed. he would like to return
to the vicinity of Cloudlands and make his home
there, living in a style that would create envv
among those who might have rejoiced at his ill-
fortune.

At last he said :

“ Zulita, have you any idea of how large this
trcaajsau’re is, or rather what it represents in
go< .'

“No, Kennon; but I kn0w that it is a large
sum.

“ But there is the box, so let us get it out and
you can see.”

Throwing out more of the earth, Dunbar Ken-
non saw an iron box some two feet in length and
eighteen inches in breadth, and noted that it was
equally as deep as it was broad.

He attempted to raise it from the hole, but
could not do so, and Zulita ran off to call Paul.

She soon returned with him, and the negro
brought a rope and stout pole With him.

His eyes opened wide as he beheld the iron
box. for Zulita had told him about it, and he
quickly fastened one end of the rope into the
handle of the box, and the united strength of
the two men raised it from the hole where it
had so long been buried. /

Hanging it on the pole between them, they
started for the shore, Zulita remaining to
smooth back the earth as before and place the
dais over it. though what impelled her to do so
she could not tell.

With the tools from the brig Paul quickly
opened the stout lock, and the lid being raised,
the three who gazed down upon the treasure
revealed to their eyes uttered a cry of amaze—
ment and delight commingled.

“ It is the fortune of a king,” cried Dunbar
Kennon, with enthusiasm.

“ My father was a King, Kennon.” said Zuli-
ta, as she knelt and took up a handful Of gems
from the box.

It was indeed a king‘s treasure, and just such
as a pirate king might be expected to have
laid by.

There was a large quantity of precious stones,
rubies, diamonds, emeralds and gems of lesser
value, along with leather bags of gold, jewelry
of the richest and most costly kind, and any
quantity of silver plate, cups, goblets and tank-
ards, with a maSSive salver, which had been bent
out of shape to be made to fit into the box.

“ Zulita, the fortune I would have gotten
from my father was not one-twentieth what
this is in value,” said Dunbar Kennon, as he
looked over the rich treasure, taking out piece
by piece, bag by bag and examined them.

“I am so glad, Kennon, for now you can be
rich and more,” was the low rep] .

“ And what shall I do with it, %ulita?”

“Take it with us, and buy Cloudlands,” she
said quickly.

“ Ah! if we only could,” be sadly replied.

“ And why can you not?”

“ I fear Cloudlands is not for sale.”

“ To you, no! but let another make the pur-
chase, for a good price will get it I feel sure.

“ But, Kennon, do not let us remain an in—
stant longer upon this island than there is need
for, as one of our cruisers might run in here at
ting time, and then we are lost.”

er warning had the desired effect, for the
discovery of the treasure had driven work en-
tirely out of the heads of both Dunbar Kennon
and Paul.

But thus warned they quickl made canvas
bags and filled them with the TICKQS, after which
they stowed them away in the hold of the little
sloop under the ceiling.

Then they measured the spars for a suit of
sails, and Zulita be an to make them, sewing
the thick canvas wit a celerity and skill hardly
expected of one with her small hands.

While Paul worked at the hole in the side of
the sloop, Dunbar Kennon wove the ri ging on
the mast and spars. and Zulita sewe on the
sails, so that darkness found them getting the
little craft well on the way toward readiness to
go to sea within thirty-six hours.

That night, in the cabin of the brig, they all
three worked on the sails and rigging, and when
they retired that night that much at least was
done.

Before noon the next day the rigging was
wove on, the sails were bent, and' by night the
repairs were completed and the sloop was afloat
and moored alongside of the brig.

Utterly worn out they all sought rest, but at
dawn began the work of provisioning the sloop
from the brig’s stores, and fitting her out for a
long cruise.

To his delight Dunbar Kennon saw that
Paul had done his work so well that the hull
did not leak, and he felt that they would all be
quite comfortable on their voyage in the little
craft, their greatest danger being a dread of
capture from some cruiser of the Island Rovers,
or a West Indian buccaneer, which were often
seen in these waters.

When all was in readiness, and all that they
cared to take with them from the brig, had been
placed on the little sloop, Dunbar Kennon and
Zulita took a walk together to have a last look
at the island.

They reached the cliff, and as be cast his eyes
out over the sea Dunbar Kennon started, for his
gaze fell upon a distant sail.

It was a long way Off, but he had his glass
with him and he saw that the craft was a
schooner and her course lay directly toward the
island retreat.

“ Zulita, take my glass and see if that is one
of your old cruisers,” he said, quietly.

She obeyed, and after a while said:

“ Kennon, I do not recognize the vessel at
this distance; but it is an American schooner
and Mazula was having a craft of that kind
built whcn we fled from the island.

“ She is coming this way. and before we can
run out in the sloop she will be near enough to
catch us.”

“ Yes, if we are discovered; but with this
breeze it will be some time aftcr dark before
she gets to the channel through the reefs, and
we cpuld run out, perhaps, and not be seen by
her.

“ If we could go either side of the island,nfter
running out, yes; but there are sunken rocks
which will cause us to sail a mile out before we
can head away, and we Will then have to beat,
with the wind where it is.”

“You are right, Zulita; but we will have to
run out and take the chances, for we can do
nothing else.”

“ Kennon, what does the sloop draw?”

“ Four feet.”

“ Let me see how the tide is.”

“ Running in, and it will be high tide within
an hour.”

“ Over on the other side of the island there is
a break in the reef, and I have often sailed
through it in my skiff; but at high tide the men
have said there is something over four feet of
water there, so we might all get in the skiff to
lighten the 5100 , and tow her over, and that
would put us ve leagues ahead of yonder
craft.

“ What do you say, Kennon?”

 

 

“We must force the sloop through at all
hazards, Zulita.

“ Come, let us lose no time, for yonder
schooner is coming on rapidly.”

Had they waited longer they would have seen
the schooner lay to, and come no nearer the
island then, so that there might have been a
chance to run out of the channel and escape un—
der Cover of the darkness; but this they did not
see, and so hurried down the hill, congratulat-

'ing themselves that they had gone up to take a

last look, as they had intended sailing at
dawn.

“ Come, Paul, there is a suspicious-looking
schooner in the offing, and we must run out at
once; but we will tow the sloop across the wa-
ters between here and the reef,” said Dunbar
Kennon, and Paul sprung to work with a will
to get all ready.

The little anchor was raised, the skiff with
two pairs of oars gotten out ahead, With a
strong tow-line, and with Zulita at the tiller of
the sloop the two men took their oars and began
to tow out.

The brig, which had served them so well, was
waved a sad farewell and then the start was
made.

Out of the lagoon they went, and then around
the island toward the little break in the reef
upon which their hopes were now centered.

It was a hard pull across the quieter waters,
within the circling reef ; but Zulita directed the
rowers how to hold their course, and soon they
drew near the break in the reef.

It was scarcely twelve feet in width, and the
waters were boiling about it; but fortunately
it was under the lee of the island and there was
no sea on, or stiff wind blowing.

Springing into the sea, while Paul held the
sloop against the tide, from going upon the reef,
Dunbar Kennon swam to the break and felt for
bottom.

He found it, just touchin with his toes, while
the water was up to his nec .

“ We can make it, I think,” he called out, and
after making sure of just where was the deepest
depth, he Swain back to the sloop.

After placing all into the little skiff that it
would stand, to lighten the sloop all he could,
Dunbar Kennon returned to his oars and the
venture was made.

Nearer and nearer they drew to the break,
Zulita now at the tiller of the skiff, and with a
short tow-line out, and in another moment they
were in the rough waters.

But the strong-armed oarsmen never faltered,
though the skiff tossed wildly for a moment,
and after an instant of great suspense a cheer
broke from the trio, for the sloop had passed
over in safety.

Thus it was that the Sea Spider, upon enter-
ing the lagoon three hours after did not find the
fugitives upon the deserted Rovers’ Island.

CHAPTER XXII.
TO BE RUN DOWN.

WHEN the Sea Spider dropped anchor in the
lagoon, not a cable’s length from the brig Rover
Queen, he seemed in no hurry to act,for he gave
orders to be called at sunrise and retired to his
cabin to rest.

He knew well that to escape from the island
those who were on it would have to have a boat,
and that the brig‘s were useless he was well
aware from what Pierre Gerard had told him,
while he remembered. that only a stove-in sloop
and skiff with a hole in her bow had been left at
the retreat by his people when they had de-
parted.

So he would rest content, feeling perfectly
sure of the four fugitives, for be counted the
mate as being along, for it will be remembered
that Pierre Gerard did not know of Melville’s
death.

“ They will be safe enough, and I have them
in my p0“ er,” he said, as he threw himself down
to sleep.

But sleep did not come to the eyes of the Sea
Spider.

He could take human life and rest serenely
after it: but within a short distance of him, as
he believed, was a woman who had been his idol
since his boyhood.

He had loved Zulita since she was a little girl
of six and he a boy of fourteen.

He had watched her grow into girlhood, maid-
enhood and then, as a woman he had made her
his idol.

She had fled from him and with another, and
yet he loved her: but still he meant to have his
revenge upon her.

The man for whom she had forsaken him
should die by the vilest torture; this he had made
up his mind to.

The others with her must also die by torture;
but as to Zulita, he had it in his power to s are
her life, for he would use that power as ing
of the Island Rovers.

His revenge upon her would be in slaying
Dunbar Kennon, and his mercy to her would be
in sparing her life.

And so he tossed about on his bed until dawn,
sleep driven from his eyes by his bitter
thoughts, and at last arose and Went on deck.

The day was dawning, and he aroused his
men for action.

He ate his breakfast, and accom anied by
Pierre Gerard in his gi , bade o cer Duke
follow in a large boat wit a score of seamen
and told him that there were to be no fire—arms
taken. for the fugitives were not to be slain un—
der any circumstances.

As he reached the shore he did not note that
both the skiff and sloop were gone, though he
recalled it afterward with an imprecation at the
f

 

act.

Up the hill he went into the interior of the
island, spreading his men out as a search-party,
while he and Pierre Gerard went to the Flag Ship
quarters, where had been Zulita’s home and
his.

Officer Balbo, sent on board the brig while the
party to land were getting ready to leave the
schooner, had reported that the Rover Queen
was deserted, at anchor, and also made fast by
chain-cables to the trees ashore.

This convinced the Sea Spider that those whom
he sought were ashore.

But the Flag Ship was empty and just as he
had left it half a year before.

The forts were also untenanted, and the
searching-party came and reported that they
had gone into every cabin and nowhere were the
fugitives to be found.

Sending the party on another search, the Sea
Spider, with angry face, went back to the
shore with Pierre Gerard and was put on board
the Rover Queen.

“ This is certainly the craft,” he said.

" Oh, yes, my King, there is no doubt of
that.” responded the Frenchman.

“ Then they must be on board here.”

And hailingr the schooner he ordered a dozen
Rovers sent aboard the brig to search her.

This was done, and not a place was left un-
locked into where even a child could have hid-
den.

'As this report was made Duke came from the
island and told the Sea Spider that every crev—
ice and cabin ashore had been searched without
result.

A curse came from the lips of Mazula at this,
and he stood with angry face regarding the
shore.

Suddenly he started. and his voice rung out
like a trumpet as he cried:

“ HO, men! Where are the boats that were
left here?”

“ There was a sloop. my Kin , stove—in on
the side, and a surf-skiff with a ho e in her bow,
as I recall them.”

“ The same, Scfior Duke, and they are gonc."

Shavings and pieces of wood, cut with car-
penths7 tools, were seen ashore now, with frag—
ments of canvas, cut ropes and pieces of rig—

gin .

Tish there was a tar-pot and brush, oakum,
and other evidences that men had been at work
repairing a vessel.

“ They have gone, and in the sloop.

“ I told you, Sei'ior Gerard, that that Ameri— ,
can was a man of experience and pluck. r
“ He has repaired the skiff and sloop and sailed _
with all speed. C