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PYRIGHTE: IN Iaao, BY BEADLE & ADAMS-

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Exn-zm-zn AT THE POST OFFICE AT NEW You. N. Y., AS SECOND Cuss MALL hum

Published Every (Beadle (f' ﬂda 7713. @311 bZz‘shers 1- Ce t, c ,
Vol'  TWO Weeks. 98 WILLIAM STREET, N. Y., May 19. 1880. , 212.5513.  NO‘ 

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fHFiiéciNEEnfta—rTTHE‘W—ATF 0F TEE-WEE

BY COL. PRENTISS INGRAHAM,

AUTHOR OF “THE caner ROVER,” “THE 9mm PRINCE,” “ rm; DARE-DEVIL," ma, x'rc.

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Freelance, the Buccaneer.

 
Freelance, '
THE BUCCANEER;
OR,

THE WAIP OF THE WAVE.

A Nautical Romance of the Early Years of the
Nineteenth Century.

 
BY COL. PRENTISS INGRAHAM,
AUTHOR on “THE CRETAN ROVER,” “THE PI-
RATE PRINCE,” “ THE DARE DEVIL,” ETC.

CHAPTER I.
A GRAVE BETWEEN THEM.

LIKE a ﬂood of silver light the moon’s rays
streamed down from a cloudless sky, and
bathed land and sea in its halo of dreamy luster.

The winds had died away, and the waves
broke with muffled sound upon the bbly beach,
while in the background the dark ‘ne of forest
echoed to the shrill notes of songsters—the
mock-birds of the South trilling forth their
melody, as though in joyful admiration of the
calm beauty of the seene.

Alon; the curving shores of the Gulf, here
("1.1 there gleam from the magnolia. forests, the
Snowy walls of a plantation villa, surrounded
rpm either side with spreading acres, tilled by
tile dark hands of the slave, whose white cot-
1 me: are visible in the distance.

In front of these homesteads, the abodes of
wealthy and aristocratic Southerners, lying at
anchor upon the waters of the Gulf, are visible
yaclltso various sizes and rig, but with sails
flirled for the night, and no one visible IiliEon
llleir decks, for the world seems to have su to
sloop under the calm influence of the hour.

Along the shore, and in front of the villas,
winds a broad carriage drive, and in the dis-
1 nice appears a horseman slowl riding along,
me hoofs of his steed falling lightly upon the
«lusty road.

At length he halts in front of a massive gate-
--v:iy leading into the handsome grounds of a
villa situated back from the road.

Peering through the foliage he beholds a light
in one of the windows, and from his lips break
the words:

“ It is the signal! she will be there."

Quietly he enters the (gate, closing it whhout
:i sound behind him, an then leaving the drive
that approaches the house, he skirts the fence,
and ﬂies toward a distant clump of trees,
through which patches of white glimmer in the
moonlight».

Nfal'el‘ and nearer he approaches the clump
of trees, using his spurs to force his horse on,
for t in :l ll'll.ll seems to dread some danger
lurking in the dark covert or, with the peculiar
instinct of dumb brutes, reading to approach
the spot where the dead lay at rest.

Presonlv through the foliage a white fence
was visible, surrounding the marble monuments
erected over those who had sunk to slee for-
ever; blit, apparently with no supers itious
feeling regarding a cemetery, the horseman
urged his horse forward, and springing to the

and threw the bridle-rein over a. post.

As he did so the animal started with a loud
snort. but a word from his master calmed him.

Whit had caused the sudden fright of-the
steed was certainly sufﬁcient to cause human
nature to become momentaril unnerved, for a
form, clad in white, advance from the shadow
of a marble tomb directly toward the horseman
who nimbly sprung over the low fence and sai
earnestly: ,

“Lucille, my darling, you are a brave little
girl to meet me here,” and he drew the slender

orm toward him, and, bending over, imprinted
a kiss uron the upturned face.
. “It is not a cheerful place, Launcelot, for a
lovers’ tryst, yet I do no fear my dead ances-
tors, for I have never harmed them; but then I
had an idea that our other rendezvous was
known, and hence wrote you to come here.”
“ And I would have come anywhere to meet
u, Lucille; but has anything arisen of late to
use your suspicions?”
‘Yes; my father seems to watch me, and
terday forbade me to 0, after ni htfall to
-. arbor on the cliﬂ; bu tell me, uncelot,
on will our meetin be no longer secret?”
‘To—morr0w Lucil e, I intend to seek your
her and tell him of my love for you: he, as I
ore told you, knows who I am, though you
not, other than what I have told you regard~
- _ myself.”

‘ And I have kept my romise and never
made one inqui reg up; Mr. , Launcelot
Vertner, the ban me young gentleman who
saved my life, and then stole my heart,” said
the maiden playfully.

H You will ﬁnd, Lucille, that I have deceived
you in one thing only but I did so with no dis-

onorable motives, pied glow -

“ Circumstances over w ic you and I had no
control caused me to beg you to keep our meet-
ings a secret for the present and a fear of losing
you perhaps made me err in this; but to-mor-
row you shall know all, for, having been North

 
at school, since you were a very little girl, the
rumors of the neighborhood are unknown to
on.

“I hate ossip, Launcelot, and frequently
have to bus up old Mammy Chloe, who, like
many other old negroes, likes to chat about the
affairs, of others; but to-morrow you will see

a 1"

“Yes; and, Lucille, you will still love me,
come what ma l”

“Never can love any one else, Launcelot;
but you are sad; do on dread trouble?” and
LuCille laid her han gentl upon the man’s
shoulder, while the moonligh , streaming down
upon them, made a picture worthy the artist‘s
brush.

The maiden was scarcely more than seven-
teen, with a Madonna-like face of wondrous
beauty, and a tall, willowy form, perfectly
molded.

She was dressed in white, and her embroider-
ed skirt trailed upon the dew-gemmed grass,
while a m worsted wrap encircled her
shoulders, and tilt hid the masses of golden hair
and haughty head.

The man was six feet in hight, as straight as
an arrow, full-chested, with broad shoulders,
and a form that was not only elegant, but de-
noted great strength and activity.

He was dressed m a riding-suit, top boot ', and
a gray slouch hat, the broad brim being turned
up permitting his face to be visible.

And it was a face that few could look upon
and not admire—a face of beautiy in every out-
line, blended with nobleness an calm dignity,
a dignity that amounted almost to sternness,
when the features were in repose.

The complexion was dark; the hair and long,
droo illg mustache black, and the eyes restless
and all of ﬁre.

Replying to the maiden’s question, the man
said slowly:

“it seems almost too much happiness, Lu-
cille, when I think that I may win you as my
wife and bitter obstacles are before us; but we
will hope for the best. Now you must not re-
main longer out in the night air, and tomorrow
our fate will be sealed.”

“Devil incarnate! this night shall your fate
be sealed.”

The words run out loud and stern on the
night air, and a ark form bounded from the
shadow of a tree and confronted the lovers, an
upraised arm and knife in hand.

But, quick as was his spring, and taken by
surprise as he was, the man thrust Lucille to one
side and a pistol gleamed in his hand, aimed di-
rectl at the heart of the assailant.

“ gropthat knife, Colonel Darrington, or I
will kill you!”

“For Heaven’s sake do not ﬁre Launcelot;
it is m father!” and tile trembling maiden
sprung etween the two men.

Instantly her lover lowered his pistol, while
he said, sadly:

“ Forgive me, Lucille; for the moment I for—
got the he was our father, and only looked
upon him as the fetime foe of my race.”

“ Ay, Launcelot Grenville, and from this mo-
ment your foe unto death.

“ Now, in the presence of my daughter, there
must be no scene; but to-morrow, sir, you shall
hear from me, and the sun shall set upon one
Darrington or Grenville less.”

“0h, Launcelot, are you a Grenville?” cried
Lucille, half shrinkin away.

“ Yes, Lucille; I to (1 you that there were hit-
ter barriers between our love for each other—I
am Launcelot Vertner Grenville,” said the
young man calmly. _

“And you love this man Lucille?” cried the
father turning‘toward his daughter.

“I o, father, with all my heart and soul.”
an“ God blem you, Lucille; and, sir, I love your
the onor of ahtrue man, and I would ask you
and her to let t 0 dead pest bury its deed, and
the names of -Darrington and Grenville become
united.”

“ Never, sir, never 1”

“Stay, Colonel DarringZon and remember
that I am the one that offering the right
.l’l'an’d of, fellowship to the man who lulled my

at er. '

The voice of Launcelot Grenville was deep
and stern, but his manner was earnest, and
there was no tremor in the hand he held forth

to Ferd Darrington.

“By heaven, sir you will dare me to strike

on even here. Never will I consent that your

lood and mine shall mingle in the veins of a
human being.‘ Only in hatred and the bitter
strug le for life and death shall your blood
min e with mine.”

“ be it, Ferd Darrington. You have
Spoken, and the grave now yawns between us-_—
a grave I was willing to step across with ex-
tended han .” .

“ And I hurl back that proﬂered hand With
hatred and contempt. ”

“ Father, this gentleman saved my life, for
be it was who saved me the day I watkidnap-

thecoastpiratee; be it was who attac -

ed them single-handed, killed two of their num-
ber and rescued me.”

“Great God! is this true, Lucille?” and the

,4!
I

tor—hold, and hear me—I love her with '

 
vv-n 1'“

strong man staggered back as though dizzy
with overwhelming emotion.

“It is true. father: I told you that a horse-
man assing, and doubtless a traveler, came to
lny aid, and I told you the truth, for only days
after, when out- rlding, did I meet him, and
from that time on we met often, until I learned
to love him with all the devotion of my heart.”

“ And, Colonel Dnrrington, fearing that
Lucille would turn from me in horror, knowing;
me as Lance Grenville, I gave her part of my
name, that of Launcelot Vei‘tner, and it was
my intention to-morrow to seek you and ask
that the past might be forgotten.”

“ And again I say—never !”

“Father, I love him, and he loves me; he has
as much, if not more, as I remember the history
of the fearful vendetta between our families, to
for 've than you and I, so listen to our appeal,
fat ler, and let the past be buried forever. ’

The maiden’s voice was plaintive and appeal-
ing, and approaching her father she rested a
hand upon either shoulder, and looked beseecl !—
in ly into his white, stern face.

ut the devil of his nature had complete as
cendency, and ill hoarse. cutting tones, he said;

“ I swear it! Your life, or mine, Lance Gren»
ville!

“ Come, Lucille.”

The maiden quickly sprung from him to the
side of her lover and throwing her arms around
his neck. she cried pnssionatelv:

“Oh, uncelot! Launceloti This is the end"
of my ll py dream of love! Farewell! forever,
forever!”

Drawing her quicle toward him be pressed 8.
kiss upon her cold ips, and turning away
sprung into his saddle, and dashed swiftly from
t e scene, urging his splendid horse, by a
mighty leap, over the picket fence that sur—
rounded the handsome grounds of the Darring-
ton villa, and ﬂying down the road at a mad
pace that pi'nvwl how his noble heart was torn
with grief and d ‘Spilll‘.

CHAPTER 11.
THE DUEL-VENDETTA.

COLONEL FERD DARRINGTON, a stern, haugh-
ty man of forty, and the last male survivor of
his race, sat on the broad piazza of his elegant
house, the morning after t e scene at the bury-
ingI-ground of his fnmily’.

lS brow was dark and clouded, his lips firm
set, and his eyes gazing out upon the waters of
the Gulf with that fixed store, which proves the
thoughts are far away.

Presently the rumble of wheels awoke him
from his reverie, and (glancing up he beheld
what in his time, he ha never seen before—tho
well-known carriage of the Grenvilles, coming
up to the door of his home.

Instantly he was upon his feet, his face livid,

when from the vehicle sprung a youll man
cladinthe attire of an ofﬁcer in the mud
States Navy.

Both men knew each other well by sight, but
never before had a word assed betwaen them.

Ascending the steps, t e young officer said,
coldl , thou h bowing with liteness:

“ olonel arrington 1 be level”

“Yes sir, and I address Lieutenant Arthur
Grenville?”

“You do, sir, and I have called to ask, Colo-
nel Darrington, if you intended it as a personal
insult to me when ou named, in your affair
with my brother, Ir. Rosa] Abercrombie as
your second—a person whom I certainly do not

ook upon as a gentleman, and will hold no com-
munication wit ."

“You cantake it as you choose, Lieutenant
Grenville and, after my meeting with your
brother. Iain perfectly willing to hold myself
answerable to you,” was the quiet reply of Ferd
Darrington.

“It is my desire, sir, that your meeting with
me be prior to that with my brother, and, as 1
decline to act with the second ou have named
we can arrange the time and p see for ourselveé
personally.” .

“ Ah, I seeyour drift, sir. You wish, it pos.
sible, by killing me, to revent a meeting be-
tween myself and Mr. nce Grenville,” said
Colonel Darrington, with a sneer.

“ You guess aright, sir. Knowing the imme-
diate cause of uarrel between you and my
brother, I fear t at he will not attempt your

~life, and that you, in your merciless nature,

should spare him, I have no idea, so I desire to

ace the meeting on a more equal footin
iii»? the ﬁrst to face you.” g, by

“ will willingly ob ige you, lieutenant, after
I have met your brother, but peremptorin de-
cline doin sobefore, and asyou object to Mr.
Abercronl ie, and I wish to place no obstacle
ill the way of my hostile meetin with M1-
Lance Grenville, I will refer you to . Van L06
as my second.” .

Arthur Grenville bowed, and, with a look of
disappointment upon his face, entered his car.
riage and drove away.

Asthe vehicle drew up for the footman to
open the gate, a slender orm suddenly run
to the window, and Arthur Grenvule aha]
one of the most beautiful faces he had ever
looked upon. -

It was now white, the eyes were red With

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Freelance, the Buccaneer. 3

 
weeping, and the traces of dee sorrow rested
upon every feature, and still t e face was ex-
quisitely lovely. _

“ Ah sir, beg Launcelot Grenville not to kill
m father!”

e words and voice were pleading, and
Arthur Grenville seemed moved with pity,
while he answered sadly:

"Alas, Miss Darrin ton, I fear that it will be
the other way; but will do all in my power,
for your sake and my brother’s, to prevent a
fatal termination.”

“God bless you,” and stepping back Lucille
allowed the carria
traced her way to t e mansion keeping a hedge
between horse f and the eye of her father, who
still paced the piazza.

Havin objected to the young man named as
Colonel Lanington’s ﬁrst second, on account of
his wild and dissolute character, Arthur Gren-
ville could ﬁnd no fault with Paul Van Loo, a
wealth young planter, and a friend of both
himse and brother, and he accordin 1y sought
him out and a meeting was arran ed or sunrise
the following morning, at a lone v grove upon
a int that jutted out into the Gulf.

fore the sun arose on the following day,
the Grenville carriage, with its negro coachman
and footman in livery, rolled along rapidly to
the ﬁeld, where, ten years before, the father of
Lance and Arthur had fallen by the hand of
Ferd Darrington, and where, for three enera-
tions the Darringtons and Grenvilles ha faced
each other in the deadly vendetta and always
with fatality to one name or the ot er. .

It wasabitter feud, that had be half a
century before when a Grenville been the
successful rival of a. Darrington for the hand of
a beaut and heiress, and had eventually ended
in bl shed, the mantle of hate descending like
an heirloom from father to son. until at last
two of the name had met and loved each
other.

So impatient was Ferd Darrin n to meet
the man who had dared ,to love is daughter
that the brothers found him and his seoond
alread upon the ﬁeld, they having come there
upon orseback, accom ied by a negro ser-
vant who bore the deadly weapons to be used in
the aﬂray.

Bowing coldly to each other as they met, the
two seconds then walked one side, while Colonel
Darrington impatiently paced to and fro, _an
evil litter in his eye and Lance Grenvnlle
leaneﬁ against a tree, his arms folded, _his face
pale, but emotionless, and his eyes gazmg afar
of! upon the gulf, as though striving to look ll]-
;0 tlge great beyond and behold the fate in store

or 1m.

How he would have shrunk in horror from
that future, had he read in those blue waters
the destiny that awaited him.

“ Colonel Darrington, Lieutenant Grenville
informs me that his brother was the one who
rescued your daughter from the coast pirates,
some months a o; are you aware of that fact?”
and Paul Van turned to his ﬁnal I.

“ I am, sir, and I am surpri that r. Gren-
ville should endeavor to shun this meeting by
hedging himself behind a favor rendered to me
and mine,” was the ban hty retort.

“You mistake sir; .-Grenville is repre-
sented by his brother, who, in the hope of end-
ing this aﬂair without a fatal termination, told
me of the circumstance which none of us in the
ne borhood before suspected, and, believmg
tha , if known to you that you owed to Mr.
Lance Grenville the life, and perhaps more, of
your daughter, this resent difﬁculty might be
averted, spoke as did.”

“I thank you, Van Loo, for your good inten-
tions, but nothing that Mr. Grenvﬂle has ever
done, or could do, will mitigate 1n the slightest
degree, my hatred for himself and name, and
you will obli me by immediately making
arran ments or the duel." .

Pa Van Loo seemed rised, and drawing
a sword from its wah tested its ternper,
while Arthur Grenville walked toward his
brother who had not seemed to hear the effort
made at a reconciliation between himself and
his enem . .

A fewymoments more, and throwin aside
their costs the two men stood facmg eac other,
swords in hand, for, as the challenged party
Lance Grenville had chosen those weapo an
his motive for doing so was soon evident, or, a
superb master in fence, he had determined to
disarm his antagonist and 've him his life.

Afewpasses,and the b do of Colonel Dar-

‘rington was twisted from his hand; but, with-
out following up his advantage, Lance Gren-
ville lowered the point of his Weapon, and said,

calm] :
“ Fgr the sake of Lucille, sir, I will give you
or life.”
yo“ My life I will not accept at your hands, sir,
and as on have proven my master with the
sword, the pistol willrdplace us upon a more
us] footing,” and Fe Barring-ton was white
w th rage, and seeing that he was determined,
Paul Van Loo had no alternative but totake
from their velvet case the 10 dueling ‘pistols
his rinci lhad insisted upon ring-E5 pug.
with saw, Lance Grenville sign his ac-
ceptance of the weapons and a second meeting,

to go on, while she re-J

 
and soon the two splendid-looking men again
faced each other at ten paces apart.
“ Here, Dance, and for God’s sake, do not let

that man kill on,” and Arthur Grenville placed ‘

the loaded pis 01 in his brother’s hand.

Lance Grenville made no reply, but a grim
smile crossed his face, and he stood like a statue
awaiting the word.

“ It soon came, given by Paul Van Loo:

“ Gentlemen, are you ready?”

Both men bowed.

“ Fire! One 1—”

With the word one, the pistol of Ferd Dar-
rington exploded, and a dull thud was heard
while Lance Grenville started slightly an
moved one ste backward; but, instantly, 6 re-
covered himse f, and suddenly raising his pistol
ﬁred above his head at a red-bird—in hue a ﬁt
songster for that scene—that sat singing in a
tree above the heads of the two men.

Instantly the red-bird fell from his perch, his
head severed by the bullet from Lance Gren-
ville’s pistol—a splendid specimen of marksman-

shi .

11:11]] Van Loo sprung to the side of Colonel
Darrington, crying:

“Colonel, on saw his shot? He has twice
savod your 1i e, and I beg now that this affair
en'cli'liherelii’te 1i f F dDarringto parted d

e w 0 er n , an
the words wergshissed out:

“I demand another ﬁre! Load those pistols
again, Van Loo.”

“ It rests with Mr. Grenville, whether he will
meet you again,” said Paul Van Loo, evidently
hurt at the determined hate of his principal.

“My brother has twice risked his hfe and
twice spared that of Colonel Darrington. Iwill
not consent to another ﬁre,” said Lieutenant
Grenville, hoth.

“Then I sha hold him responsible whenever
and wherever I meet him, after leaving this
ﬁeld,” came the ick retort.

“Arthur, if it as to come to chance encoun-
ter to settle this affair, let it end here. I will
exchange shots agsin with Colonel Darrington,”
said Lance, and is lips slightly quivered, as
though with some inward emotion that was
choking him.

Again the two men faced each other, and
once more the word was given to ﬁre, and both
pistols were discharged together.

As the smoke drifted away, Colonel Derring-
ton was discovered lying his full length upon
the ground, while Lance Grenville stood with
folded arms, glancing down upon him, and with
an expression of intense sorrow in his face.

“I have killed him, Arth, and Lucille will
now curse me.”

There was a depth of feeling in the words
that proved how terribl the strong man suffer-
ed, and Arthur Grenvil e made no reply.

‘Y he is dead. But Grenville, ou acted
most no ly; are on not hurt?” and an] Van
Looarose from t 0 side of the dead man and
approached Lance Grenville.

“ At the first fire his bullet struck here-see!
This turned its course from my heart, and it

ve me a mere ﬂesh wound,” and he took from

breast-pocket a miniature set in a heavy
gold case. '

But the glass was shivered to atoms, the gold
indented, andthe face that had been painted
thereon was dee ly marred by the bullet, and
yet both Pan] an Loo and Arthur Grenville
saw that it was the miniature likeness of Lucille
Darrin that had saved the life of lance
Grenv‘ el

“ Take the , Paul, to hear his bod
home in, and we wil return on your horses,’
said Lance Grenville, sadly, and mounting the
very animal ridden there by Colonel Derring-
ton, the unhappy man rode away, followed by
his brother, who felt deeply for him in his sor-
row, yet rejoiced secretly that the affair had
terminated as it had. ,

In the meantime Paul Van Loo, aided by the
servants, had placed the body in the carri e,
which at once rolled rapidly away toward t e
Darrin villa, where the lon ' g, staring
eyes 0 Lucille beheld its app , and with a
cry of joy she sprun to her feet, for she recog-
ined the vehicle, an believed that those who
hadrgone forth with deadly intent had returned
as ends.

Eagerly she watched the carriage, saw it halt
before the broad shire, the door , and then,
as her eyes fell on the dark, (1 face of her
father, she uttered a shriek of anguish and fell
heavily upon the ﬂoor, where she lay like one
whose life-cords had snapped in twain.

CHAPTER III.
A woman’s CURSE.
Towm the close of da , several '
the death of Colonel by hand of
Launcelot Grenville, d‘rakis docking schooner
was standing in from the Gulf, and heading for
a small cove, sheltered by a heavily-wooded
'tof landofwhat is noth coast of the
to of Mississippi.
. That the schooner was an armed craft was
evidentsta lanceatherbuildandrigﬁorves.
sole of her , narrowhull, and single-stick
maststhatrak farafzhzlthanahnutpirstical
air, were not found in merchant .

 
after

 
As she drew nearer the land. a person would
have discerned upon her decks four gunsto a
broadside, and a bow and stern chaser mounted
upon a pivot, while a crew of sixty men were
i y grouped about, looking at the pretty villa
plantations that dotted the coast.

Upon the quarter-deck were several ofﬁcers,
who, like the men, had a foreign air, and whose
dark faces, medium-sized statures and bright
eyes denoted that they Were of Mexican origin.

The emcers wore uniforms, elaborately trim-
med with gold lace, and the sailors were attired
in blue shirts, white duck dpants, and skull-caps
encircled by a white ban upon which was cm-
broidered in green silk a serpent.

One rson upon the quarter-deck stood near
the he an, directin him how to steer, and
that this man comman ed the destinies of the
schooner was evident at a glance.

Possessing a. tall, commanding form attired
in a costly uniform, and with astriking y hand-
some face, in which a settled sade was blend-
ed with sternness, he was a man both to fear
and admire, and always to respect.

Searchingly his eyes ran along the shores, and
the wind being favorable, he gave an order to
the helmsman to head toward a certain point,
where the white walls of a villa gleamed through
a dense mass of foliage. _

As the schooner neared the shore the sun
went down behind the western horizon, and
half a score of small pleasure yachts that were
sailing upon the waters, ﬁlled with gay parties,
headed for their tive anchorages, and
darkness settled u n t e sea ‘ust as the armed
vessel swept up to the win and dropped an-
chor within a quarter of a mile from the land.

Instant] the sails were lowered and furlcd,
and the sc ooner rode ietly upon the waves,
as silent as though the t rec-score men upon her
decks had us to rest.

Thusan our passed away, and then a red-
dish lare was visible on the eastern horizon,
and into the clear skies sailed the moon, con-
vo ed by ﬂeets of stars 11 n her way.

sthe silve beamso light marked a path
across the ripp ing waters, a boat was lowered
over the schoonerls side, and into it sprung a
sin 1e personage, who seized the cars and pulled
wit a strong, nick stroke toward the shore.

As the moon ight fell upon his face it dis-
played the oﬁcer who had guided the schooner

her anchors e.

Landing un er the shelter of the cliff he
6 the boat half out of the water, by a
slig t eﬂort of his great strength, and quickly
ascended to the hill above.

Here he paused, and a. shudder ran through.
his frame, as he stood with folded arms gazing
dpvg'n upon an open, grass-covered spot in front
0 1m.

“Here am I again upon the scene that has
proven so fatal to my name,” he muttered, in a
ow, deep voice.

“ A spot where I buried every hopc for the
future, and a love that almost drives me to
madness when I recall what 1 lost: but, God
knows I was driven to it, and that a bitter curse
has dogged my footsteps.”

For a moment he remained in silence, and his
face grew cold and stern, as he seemed brooding
over the past; then again he spoke in the same
dee tones:

“ hat devilish impulse has brought me here
I cannot tell; but certain it is an irresistible
desire has made me come a sin to the scenes
where I have suffered so muc .

“ A short mile from here, and but a year ago,
I stood upon a gallows, condemned to die, a
Cain-accused man; but, through the love and
coura e of my faithful slaves I escaped, and my
own d struck down the base wretch who
had sworn mv life away as my brother’s mur-
derer—that dearly- loved brother who now lives
doubtless happy in the love of the woman 'who
also charged me as guilty of the crime of Cain,”
and he glanced down the coast to where lights
glimmered from the windows of a lordly house,
once his own.

“Ah me; how bitterly cruel Fate has dogged
m steps, and now led me back to this spot—and

w ?

“y God knows why; but I am the football of
destiny and must not hesitate now but 0 where-
soever my guardian angel, be she goo or evil,
would lead me—and she leads me vondcr.”

He turned abru tly and glanced in the other
direction from t villa n which the lights
were visible and there his eyes rested upon an-
other house half a mile distant—the place toward
which the schooner had headed when a league
“hid” “We hud' h strode r h

a e away rom t e
spot that semedugPrecall such imbittered mem-
ories, and crossing the highway approached a
massive gateway that seemed crumbling rapid-
ly to decay by total neglect.

Springing over the fence he stood hesitating
in the which were overgrown with
rank weeds an underbrush, while back a few
hundred paces eras dark and gloom the walls
ofelargemsnsion, now almost h on by the
‘ Thgrows? offsemoxmdiggit. died b t
‘ ere e vod, and—per : u
whethershe is alive ordead I will). soon know;
for yonder burying-ground will tell the story.

 
l
l
a
i

‘n -

 
4  Freelanceuthe Buccaneer,

 
“ ’Twas said she committed suicide after she I

knew her father fell by my hand. and then that

story was contradicted and none knew where 1

she had gone.

“ She cannot live in yonder old mansion
which time is re idly making a ruin of; butI
shall see— Ha!’

Quickly he bounded into the shadow of the
umssive gateway as the roll of wheels came to
his ears, and an instant after a carriage appear-
ed on the highway, while its occupants were
di'cussing the presence of the rakish-lookin
schooner lying at anchor so near inland, an
which the moonlight plainly revealed, ﬂoating
as silent as a cofﬁn upon the waters.

“It looks likea irate vessel, and I will not
have an instant’s s eep until it sails awa ,” said
a merry voice in the vehicle, while anot or an-
swered in girlish tones:

“Oh, I would so like it to be a buccaneer
craft, commanded by a dashing, handsome
young chief.”

Then the carriage rolled on out of hearing of
the man crouching in the shadow, and the moon-
light showed a rim look upon his face as he
arose to his full ﬁight again.

“ Ah, no, my fair friends, onder craft does
not float the skull and cross- nes at her peak,
though Heaven knows I have had cause enough
to make a very devil out of me; but I must not
stand here,” and he again pushed on, carefully,
though fearlessly approaching the house.

Ascending the broad steps, which trembled
beneath his feet, he walked noiselesst round
the piazza to the rear of the mansion and there
suddenly halted, as a dim light shone from the
window.

With step as noiseless and stealthy as that of
a panther he crept up and glanced in at the
open window.

He beheld a room that had once been hand-
somely furnished, but the furniture was now
worn and faded, yet still had an air of neatness
upon all.

At a table, upon which stood a lamp, sat an
old negress in a calico dress and bandana hand-
kerchief, engaged in knitting, while she hum-
med in a low voice a camp-meeting air, keeping
slow time with her needles.

Upon a chair near the broad ﬁreplace, in
which glowed a few coals, was an o d negro
man, his head frosted with the snows of three-
score and ten years.

He held a pipe between his ii and was gaz-
ing into the ﬁre with that lie ess, thoughtless
look habitual to old age, which gives the idea
that those nearing the grave are ever lookin
back into the bygone with memories only sa .

From the room were two doors, one evident-
ly leading out upon a back piazza and the other
into what appeared a. bedchamber.

“ Here I can learn what I would know about
her; but I will ﬁrst seek yonder, for I would
not be seen here by any one, if I can avoid it.”

So saying the man retraced his way around
the piazza, and descending the steps went
across the grounds in the direction of a distant
grove of trees.

Crossing an o n lawn or ﬁeld he skulked rap-
idl alon as t e moonlight fell full 11 nhim,
an hasti y darted into the shadow of t e trees.

It was be same grove that had been the ‘fa-
tal trysting-place of Launcelot Grenville and
Lucille Darrington years before; but here, as
upon the mansion, rested an air of ne lect and
decay, for the little fence that inc osed the
burying-ground was half-broken down, and
rank weeds had hidden the graves from sight—
not all the mounds that marked the restin -
places of the dead, for one was free from ru e
growth upon it, and the marble at its head
shone ure and white in the moonlight.

Quic y the man bent over and read the in-
scription:

“ERECTED TO THE MEMORY
or
HY FA THEE,

FERDINAND DARRINGTON,
we ran. av m min) or
LAUNCELOT VERTNER GRENVILLE,
Who, by his act, buried in this grave my every hope

inlife.” v

With a groan of un akable anguish the
man staggered back, w e from his white lips
broke the cry:

“Oh, Heaven have mercy! I needed but this
blow from her to ﬁll my on of bitterness to
overﬂowing. Lucille, oh, ‘Luc le! how on have
misjudged me, and how your love has aimed to
hate to cause you to place there on endurin
marble the story of the fatal act of mine again;
your father.”

The proud head was lowered, and the

untlet-gloved hands crept u and hid the

ice, as though to shut out t e scene from
v ew.

For some moments he stood thus, his stro
frame quivering, like a leaf shaken by the win ,
and then he started, for a clear, ringing voice
suddenly spoke his name:

“ Launcelot Grenville!”
Instantly the eyes of the men fell upon the

form of a woman standin not ten feet from
I him, and where the light 0 the moon, penetrat-
ing the folia , fell fu 1 upon her.

As motio ess as though carved in stone,
dressed in pure white, and with her wealth of
hair hanging loose over her shoulders and
adown her back, she looked like some ghostly
inhabitant risen from the grave at her feet.

Though her face was youthful, it was livid,
and each feature was imprinted with the mark
of sorrow and suffering, while her hair was as
white as snow and shone like silver threads in
the light of the moon.

One arm was outstretched, and the index ﬁn-
ger pointed straight at the man before her,
while upon it sparkled, like molten ﬁre, a ruby
of immense size and wondrous beauty.

The man essayed to speak, to move, but nei-
ther tongue nor feet would obe his will and
he, too, stood motionless, the wo, with the
weird, strange scene around them, making a
startling, fearful tableau, one which few people
would care to look 11 n in reality.

A moment the s thus and then once
more the full, ric tones of the woman’s voice
were heard.

“Launcelot Grenville how dare you stand
there by the grave of the man whom you de-
stro ed!”

“ Lucille! Lucille!”

The cry was like that of a lost soul imploring
mercy, and the gold-braided arms were stretch-
ed forth in earnest supplication; but he made
no step toward the woman from whom now
came in the hoarse tones of intensiﬁed pension:

“ Launcelot Grenville, I curse you 1’

 
CHAPTER IV.
A PRISONER.

“ No, no, no, Lucille; do not curse me, guilty
though I am of having taken the life of your
father. those words, I beseech you i”
and Launcelot Grenville made a step toward the
woman, whose passionate love for him had now
turned into as pamionate hatred.

“ Back, sir! Do not touch me with your red
ﬁggers, for the stain upon them will never wear
0

“ Ay, Launcelot Grenville, I hate you and I
curse you with my last breath, and will make
even your iron heart feel—will make even our
strong frame tremble at the ruin your (1 has
wrought. Behold 1”

Her riglht hand was suddenly raised above her
head, an in it held with firm grasp, Launcelot
Grenville beheld the glitter of steel.

The next instant be keen blade descended,
and, as the horriﬁed man sprung forward to
stag the blow, it sunk into her bosom.

e caught the falling form in his strong arms,
and in a tone of thrilling earnestness, cried:

“ Oh, Lucille, Lucille, what have you done?
My cup of life’s bitterness was already drank to
the dregs, but on now have made me your
murderer, and t is more than I can bear. Lu-
cille, speak to me. ”

But no word came from the tightly-closed
lips; the head, with its wealth of hair, dropped
back, and letting the lovely form slip from his
arms to the und, the stricken man sprung to
his feet an staggered from the spot like a
drunken man, while from the leafy covert above
came the dismal hoot of an owl.

Faster and faster he walked, mechanically
directing his way back toward the old home-
stead, and tottering up the steps of the piazza
he ' stood before t e open window.

Within the room the old negress still kept 11
her monotonous humming and knitting, w ' e
the aged negro had dropped off to sleep.

“Seek your young mistress at the grave of
her father!” .

Like a knell of death the deep veice broke up-
on the ears of the two Occupants of the room,
causing the woman to cry out, and the man to

to his feet in an rstitious horror.

Bu unmindful of t e result Launcelot Gren-
ville ded away, and with the of a
deer ﬂed alon toward the beach, w ile above
him skurried ark massesof storm-clouds, hid-
in the moon from view.

e a hunted stag he rushed alon ,
the t where he had slain Ferd DagngMing atom
and mixing down the cliff path stood his
boat.
The waters were already foam-ca , and a

ﬁerce wind was rising, which sig ed in the
lace on the hill,and caused the seatomoan

y.

As though it had been atoy he launched his
boat, and rip g in se the oars and bent
to his task of p g right into the teeth of the
rising gale.

It was a hard struggle, and the waves mo-
mentarilytrising higher and higher dashed over
him, we ing him through and through: but
what cared he? and as for the danger he reveled
in it and would have gladly gone down to his
death than and there; at, even in his poignant

ef and despair, he thought of his crew—the
n men who had followed him for years over
the tackles: waters, and he was determined to
love them, for his schooner was anchored upon

 
o lee shore, and he knew would be wrecked did
he not succeed in reaching her.

 
With giant stren th be bent to his cars, and
the light boat woul now and then bound from
wave to wave, and several times the plucky
oarsman believed that he must odown; but
presently.he_was under the lee of is schooner,
and his ringing hail soon brought a dozen rope»:
to his aid and dragged his litt e craft on board.

“We are drifting badly, sir, and the gale

seems increasing,” said an officer, addressing P
l

him in Spanish. ,
“Ay, ay, sir! I know the schooner’s dange,
well. Up with those anchors, lads, and close?
reef and set the foreth staysail and mainsail!”

The men gave a cheer as the voice of their
captain rung out over the deck, and as the
anchors left the bottom the sails were set, and
the bows of the schooner swun oﬁ’, tobe driven
under by the force of the Win 8; then the craft
went plowinﬁathro h the foam-covered waters.

Instantly unce ot Grenville sprung to the
helm, an , by his own mi hty stren th, held
the craft upon her course, w '16 the o cers and

crew stood at their lposts, waitin , and watching '
e

the tall form at t wheel, wi conﬁdence in
their commander, though now all was midnight
blackness around them.

“ A ﬁt night to follow my visit home. Home!
Heaven help the name! I have no home now
but the sea, and no ho except in the wild
storm and deadly battle,’ and the grief-tracked
man glanced in the direction of the land, where
suddenly ﬂashed up half a dozen bright ﬁres along
the shore, beacons lighted by the planters, to
show the stru gling mariners caught out in the
storm, where ay death and danger.

But Launcelot Grenville needed not these bea-
cons to guide him on his way, as he knew eve
foot of water around, and holding his helm wit

p of iron held the schooner on her course,
though before him, and u 11 either side the
crew beheld a chain of islan s that made them
shudder as they swept by them.

“ Read all! Ready about!”

Instant y the men sprun forward to obey the

order; there was a wild apping of canvas, a
delu e of water 'over the bows, a reelin and
trem ling of the hull, and the schooner arted
away on another course, having passed throu h
the island chain and gained the open G ,
where the waves ran in untrammeled fury, and
the winds swept relentlessly down upon t e de-
voted craft. .
. Calling two helmen to the wheel, and giv—
ing them directions what course to steer.
Launcelot descended into his elegantly-furnish.-
ed cabin, and threw himself, all ripping as h"
was, down upon a lounge, covering his face;
with his hands as thou h to shut out some fee) 2
ful hantom that rose hefore him.

ow long he lay thus he never knew; but he
was suddenly aroused by wild cries on the deck,
a staggering of the vessel, and then a tremen—
dous crash that threw him to his feet.

Rushing from the cabin a fearful scene pre»
sented itself, for above him towered a lofty
hull, and beneath his feet his beautiful schooner
was sinking, cut in twain by the hu vessel
that had run him down, while his crew ad been
hurled into the seething waters.

Mechanically he raised his hands and rasped
ﬁrmly the anchor cable of the hu 6 sh p, and
drew himself up above the scene 0 death and
ruin, to the next instant, be dra ged on board
by ready hands, just as he sun into uncon-
sciousness from a severe blow he had received
by being dashed against the side of the vessel. It
was days before Launcelot returned to con-
sciousness, for high fever followed hisin ury,
and fora lon time his life was deepair of;
but through c dreary hours of his illness ho
was most tenderly cared for by all, and 
cialll‘y dig pine person hang over his pillow y

' t an ay.

0 day the light of reason came back into
the dark eyes, and the gazed wearily around
the large cabin, out of he stern ports upon the

lucid waters, tinted by the dec ining sun, and
glen they felelogpon a person seated near him. _

It was a d calm and the ship rolled lazily
with the swell, and not a sound was heard, for
the sailors were enjoying a siesta on deck, and
a silence that coul be felt rested upon all

around.

Closing his eyes again, Launcelot Grenville
sunk into a dreamy repose; but only for a few
momen and then the lids again enclosed and
he behel what appeared to be an angel bending
over him.

“ Where am I?" he asked faintly.

The face above him ﬂushed, as though with
joy, and a sweet, low voice answered:

‘ You are safe and men friends: but you
have been very ill, and must eep quiet.”

“ And who are you?” he asked, gazing straight-\
into the lovely face. «

“I am our self-constituted nurse, and you
must min me and be uiet.”

“I mustbe inParad tohaveanangel fora
nurse,” was the low answer, and the words
brought a deep blush to the maiden’s face, for
she was barely nineteen and exquisitely lovely.

“You are indeed better, when you can pay
compliments; but for a long time we behaved
you would die. ”

“Yes, I recall all now—and my crew?” and
the strong man shuddered.

 
*-

up

 
up

*

l
l

*

Freelance, the Buccaneer.

10‘

 
“You were the only one saved,” said the
maiden, sadly.

“I was the only one that should have been
lost. My poor brave lads, all lost, and I saVedl
Ah me, ah me!”

“You do not re et your being saVed, do
you?” asked the mai en, in surprise.

(‘  I”

The word came out with almost savage ear-
nestness, and the maiden started as she gazed
into the ﬂashing eyes and fearing to excite her
patient, she said, softly:

“ You must now get some rest, and you will
feel better after it. You must mind me, or I
will send the captain.”

“I will obey: but tell me ﬁrst, what ship is
this and where bound?”

“ The En lish ship Reindeer, bound from Mo-
bile to C iz, Spam. Two weeks ago, in the
storm, we ran your schooner down.”

“ One question more—who are ,you?”

“ I am the captain’s dau hter.’

“ I thank you,” and uncelot Grenville
turned his face away, and soon sunk to sleep.

When he awoke, several hours after, he was
greatly refreshed, and saw by his side a stout,
red-faced man, whose brow at once clouded as
hr caught the invalid’s eye.

" You feel better, sir?” he asked, bluntly.

“Yes, sir.”

“Your name is——”

“ Launcelot Grenville, a captain in the Mexi-
tan navy.”

“Did you land on the Mississippi coast the
night I ran you down?” and the captain awaited
the answer with considerable interest.

“I did, sir.”

“You met there a maiden by the name of
[.ucillo, I believe?”

“Great God, sir! tell me what you know of
,ler?” and Launcelot Grenville arose from
oun e.

“ e calm, sir, and, painful as it is tome, I
must do my duty for your own words have
proven you a m erer, and your victim was a
mlalma’n. You are my prisoner, Captain Gren-
vi e. ~

Launcelot Grenville fell back upon his pil-
lows, his face ashen pale, for the lgallows again
loomed up before him, and he fe that if tried
for the murder of Lucille, he would be con-
demned, as circumstantial evidence was fear-
fully against him.

In his delirium he had told am, and hehad
been saved from drowning to meet a far worse

, fate; he had been nursed back to life to die ig»
.’. nominiously—his was a bitter fate indeed.
’ Hopelea, and in despair, he sai , calmly:
lI”am in your power; do with me as you
r'wr

 
CHAPTER V.
m BLACK me.

Tm: good ship Reindeer bounded swiftly along
11 n her course, and in due time neared the
s ores of Spain, and the hearts of the crew
were gladdened and their voyage was nearly
ended.

“Tomorrow, Maud, we will be in Cadiz, if
this wind holds good,” said Captain Menken to
his beautiful daughter, as, comin on deck, he
found her idly axing over the rail.

“ And you 1 dehver the prisoner to the
American consul, there, father-i” asked d.

“ Certainly, and he will be sent back to the
United States, tried, and hung for his crimes.”

“Father, I do not believe he is guilty of
crime ” said the maiden, boldly.

“ Why, he confessed to having murdered a
young ° 1, and her father too.”

. “In t e wild delirium of fever he called him-

relfa murderer, true, sir: but I do not believe '

that it was more than the imagination of a heat-
ed brain.”

“Maud, I like not your defending this man, i

and I am angry with you for not ha made

known all he said in his delirium, an had I
not accidentally heard him accuse himself of
murder, on would have kept it from me.”

Maud enken made no reply, and her father
paced the deck in no amiable mood.

“ He shall not die, for I do not believe him
guilty. A man with his face could do no base
act, and self-condemnation was but the
iavings of fever.”

“ I an him back to life, and I will not let
him die now. Ah! me, how he must suffer, his
vessel and crew lost, and he ironed, hand and
foot in that loathsome hold-J

“ Sail, ho!”

The ringin cry from the maintop suddenly
'nterrupted e uenfleasant musings of mud
Menken, and caus her father to glance aux.
iously around. for his vessel was then in a dan.
gerous locality, a favorite cruising d of
the Moorish and Algerine corsairs w 0, at the
time of which I write, were a deadly foe to the
commerce of the world.

“ Where away, sir?" called out the captain in

trum .
“ ree ints oil.’ the port bow, sir and head-
ing towa us,” was the reply of the look-out.
“I see her now—a large, lateen-rigged craft,
and I verily believe a corsair,” sax Captain
Menken, and he at once changed the

’s
course, and squared away before the windfal-

 
ﬁe did not wish to allow the stranger to get near

1m.

“She is after us, sir,” said the ﬁrst mate,
watching the other vessel t‘irough his glass.

“ Go to the mizzen-top, Burton, and see what
you make of her,” said the captain with some
anxiety in his tones.

d In a short while the mate descended to the

eck.

“ She is a Moor, sir, and armed heavily, while
her decks are crowded. We will have to do our
best in showing a clean air of heels.”

“You are right. Ca all hands to set every
rag that will draw, and we will see if the Rein-
deer cannot drop yonder bloodhound.”

The order was quickly obeyed, and the ﬂeet
vessel was driven along at a tremendous rate of
speed. But upon her wake hung a faster craft,
and each glance that Captain Menken cast
astern, he saw that the stranger was rapidly
overhauling him.

“ Mr. Burton, get the guns ready, and arm
the crew' he outnumbers us three to one, but
we must ﬁght for it,” said the captain with de-
termination and in ten minutes more the crew
of the Reindeer, thirty all told, were standing
at uarters, their faces pale but resolute, for
we they knew if the stranger proved to be a
Moorish corsair and they were defeated, no
merﬁy need they expect.

“ ether, there is one other that can aid you.”

“ Who, ' l?” and 03min Menken turned al-
most y upon his ughter, who, since the
death of her mother years before, had always
accompanied him on his voyages.

“ The Mexican captain, am

“Never! He would but brin defeat upon
us, and if we are take he will ve been the
Jonah of the ship,” said the old seaman with
some asperity.

Maud turned away and a moment after went
into the cabin.

Going forward she cautiously and unseen, for
all the crew were on deck, descended into the
ship’s hold bearin in her hand a ship’s lantern.

‘ Ah! Miss Men n, this is an honor,” and
from a mattress, n which he had been lying,
Arthur Grenville ha arose, for, chained as he
was to the ﬂoor. he could not stand upright.

“ Captain Grenville, I have come to tell ou
that our vessel is chased by what is su to
be a corsair, and m father refusing to release
you I have determ ed to do so, for you shall
not cut to ieces while bound hand and foot.”

“Mia Men en, you are a noble girl, and I
thank you from my heart; release me and if
n I will come on deck to aid in defend-
ing the ip.”

‘Not now must &Ou come; only when the
combat has begun— en come to the cabin and
I will have arms ready for your use.”

Bending over ' with the key she had
brought with her, she unlocked the rons from
his feet and hands, and then quickly turned
away.

Once more upon deck she beheld that the
strange craft was now not a mile awa , and
upon or decks were scores of men, wh e her
whole appearance proved beyond doubt that
she was a corsair.

“Maud, my child, go to the cabin, for they
aregoingto o 11 ﬁre 11 n us; but remember
that your old ather and is brave lads will de-
fend you to the last.”

The crew heard the words of their ca tain
and broke into a ringing cheer, for Maudpwas
beloved by every man on board.

With a breaking heart Maud threw herself
into her father’s arms, ' him affectionate] ,
and wavin her hand to the sailors, returned
the cabin, Just as a shot from the bows of the
Screair shrieked above the decks of the Rein-

car.

As the gun was ﬁred, a black roll of bunting
I went up rem the deck of the stranger and the

wind catchi its folds, the hideous black ﬂag

I of the M00 pirate was revealed.

; At the sight of the sable ensign a groan broke

[ from the lips of the Reindeer’s crew, but not a

1 man quailed or shrunk from. the deadly duty

, all felt was before them.

a “Mr. Burton let the stern ns answer the

l cutthroa ”  Captain Men n, calmly, and

l the two howrtsers upon the stern of the ship
poured an iron hail upon the corsair, doing con-

; srderable execution 11%): his crowded decks.

, Then the ﬁrin on th sides became hot and
ﬁerce, and soon ud, who was crouchin upon
her knees in the cabin, felt a terriﬁc sh , and
heard wild ells, as the two vemels came to-

, ther and t e corsairs hurled themselves upon

, he deck of the ship.

1 Unable longer to stand the fearful suspense,

, Maud started to go on deck, when several forms

j mailed down the companionway and confront-

‘ er. '

With a cry of terror she shrunk back. for she
beheld the cruel faces of the merciless Moors
looking upon her, and one, with a cry of joy,
sprung forward to seize her.

But he was suddenly hurled backward with
, a force that sent him into the furthest corner of
. the cabin and, seizing from the table a sword
I and , a man faced the ruthless gang.
| “ God!” broke from the lips of Maud,

and she crouched down and gazed upon the

 
l

scene that was at once enacted before her, for
the Moors now rushed upon the daring man
who had come to the maiden’s rescue.

Instantly one two pistol-shots rung out, a
clash of steel followed, and Launcelot Grenville
was the victor, while at his feet lay dead three

oors.

“ Miss Menken, I be of you to conceal your-
self. I will 0 on dec to your father’s aid,”
cried Laun 0t and Seizing the arms of the
slain Moors, he bounded from the cabin up the
companionway.

The scene that there met his aze was horri-
ble to contemplate, for the dec was slip cry
with blood and covered with the dead an d —
ing of both vessels, while the remainder of t e
Reindeer’s crew had retreated aft, and were
holding at bay the desperate Moors.

Wounded, overpowered and expecting no
mercy, the crew of the indeer under their
old commander, determined to‘ﬁght to the last.
for in the ship’s cabin they knew there was one
who looked to them to save her from a fate
worse than death.

“ At them lads, and hurl them into the sea i”

All at the deep, commanding voice
and suddenly a tall form bounded forward an
sprung ri ht upon the Moorish line.

“The exican! the Mexican !” yelled the crew
of the Reindeer, and they pressed forward at
the back of the reckless man, and the corsairs
found themselves hurled backward by main
force.

From the companionway, Maud who had fol-
lowed Launcelot Grenville, beheld his magniﬁ-
cent co , saw him throw himself into the
midst of t e Moors, and beheld man after man
dro dead before the sweep of his strong arm,
whr c, with 'renewed coura e and hope, er fa-
ther and his men rushed to t e attack.

For awhile Maud believed that victo would

yet fall upon their side; but then the ow hull
of the Moorish vessel again ran alongside the
ship and from its decks, over the high hul-
wa.r ured another large force of corsairs
headedgy a man in brilliant uniform and o
stnkmg' ' a co.
In the Moorish tongue he cheered his follow"
e and sweeping forward they drove the crew
of he Reindeer again aft, while their leader and
Launcelot met face to face.

Still staring in horror at the awful scene,
Maud saw a nick assage of arms hetwwn the
Moorish chie and uncelot Grenville, and the
'ewel-hilted sword of the former struck from

is .
en there was a rush. a dozen forms hurled
themselves upon the Mexican captain, a score of
savage Moors rushed upon the few remainin
men supporting Captain Menken, and Man
saw her father fall and knew no more, for she
swooned away, and rolled down the companion-
way-steps and lay like a lifeless heap upon the
cabin ﬂoor, her ears deaf to the groans of the
wounded and wild cheers of the corsairs over
their hard won victory.

CHAPTER VI.
THE CORSAIR CHIEF.

Wm Lance Grenville, by his su rior skill
and strength, struck the cimeter o the Moor
chief from his grasp he expected to die at once.

But, not a muscle quivered as the corsairs
rushed upon him, and he stood upon his guard
to receive them, fearless, determined and court-
in% death at their hands.

ut the chief in a loud voice, and in the Moor-
ish tongue, gave an order to a dozen of his men,
and droppin their wea ns, they rushed an
“of? “pi.” ‘ 8“ Mfg ties gm f n u-

a en surpnse y e o g ‘. mg
Launcelot renville had but time for one sweep
of his sword, and then he was dragged to the
deck, and in sfite of his struggles secure]
bound and left ying among a heap of dead an
dying men.

From where he lay he saw the rush of the
Moors upon Captain Menken and his few re-
maining followers and knew then that the fate
of r Maud was sealed.

by he had not been killed he could not tell,
and as he beheld not one of the Reindeer’s crew
alive, he was glad that his life was spend, for
he possessed an indomitable will, and hoped in
some way to be able to serve the maiden who
had so tender! nursed him in days of wild de-
lirium, and w 0 had freed him from his irons,
thathemightnotdielikeado .

At an order from their 0 cers, the Moors
made short work of the dead and (1 'ng who
strewed the deck, for all were hurle into the
see, after being robbed of what valuables they

, and the cries of the wounded were
enough to awaken pity in any heart not in the
breast of a Moorish or Al nne corsair.

Over him a short consu tation was held, and
Launcelot could see that some were in favor of
throwing him overboard, bound as he was; but
others would not allow it, and he was trans-
ferred to the deck of the corsair, for the two
vessels now lay side by side.

At that moment an under ofﬁcer a preached,
and releasing the prisoner of his bon s, beckon-
ed to him to follow, and he was led into a lux-
uriousl furnished cabin of the corsair chie‘i
where eyes fell uponthe unconscious form

 
6 Freelance, the Buccaneer.

 
Maud Menken lying upon a divan of velvet, and
kneeling beside her, bathin her face in otto do
rose water, was the corsair eader.

As Launcelot entered, the chief arose to his '

feet and faced him, a look of admiration and
cu‘ iosity blended u n his face.

He was a splendi cimen of manhood, at-
tired in all the magni cence of an oriental uni-
form. his breast sparkling with precious stones
of rare value.

His face was darkly bronzed, exceedin ly
hanlsome and yet cold and stern, while ﬁns
hair. black as ink, hung upon his shoulders.

With a gesture, he motioned Launcelot to a
seat upon a divan, and, to his great surprise,
said in perfect English:

“ You are English, I believe, sir?”

“ No, I am an American by birth, but an ofﬂ-
cer in foreign service.”

“ Ah, an American? My mother was an
Amerigan. You commanded yonder vessel, I

lieve ”

“You are mistaken again, sir. That vessel
I‘I‘L‘l my schooner down in a storm in the Gulf
of Mexico and I alone was saved.”

“ Indcc l you are lucky.”

“Pardon me if I differ with you; any fate
were better than that of being a prisoner to a
Moor,” said Launcelot, fearlessly. I

The Clllt‘f arched his eyebrows, smiled mean-
in glv, an l said with admiration inhis tone:

“I never saw men fight meie allantly than
dil the crew ot’ yonder ship, an. you, sir, are

he best swordsman I ever met, for never be-
fore dil I cross blades with my ual, while
youpgoved my superior, and fought e a very
"Vii

“ And all to no service, excepting in riddin
the world of a few merciless wretches,” sai
Launcelot, contemptuously. “And the mai-
den?” he asked.

The chief again smiled, and said:

“ This maiden is in a deep swoon, and I fear
may not recover.”

"I hope to Heaven she may not,” was the
fearless retort.

“ Ah, you certainly are not complimentary
to your captor; but what is the maiden to

out

“One who nursed me through long days of
illness, and whom I would give my life to save
iron harm ”

“ You love her, then?”

“ No, I respect and admire her; my heart is
(lo/1 l to all love.”

Toe chief {gazed quickly into the face of the
canker, anr seemed to read intuitively that
'. ‘i‘il' deep grief had fallen upon his prisoner,
an 1 his voice was kind, as he said:

“The future may not be as gloomy as the
past seems to have been to you; but aid me
in restoring this girl to consciousness.”

“ Never! no act of mine will brin her back
to a realization of the shame that w fall upon
her as a corsair’s captive.”

“ I Will spare your life if you will aid me.”

I“ Mywlife is worthless to me; if you wish it,
ta m it.

The chief gazed earnestl upon his prisoner
for a moment, and then sai quietly:

“As I told you, In mother was an American,
captured on a vesse from the United States
and my father was an Amazer chief : hence I
have a sympathy for you, an will spare your
life. Nay, more: will make you an officer un-
der me.”

“ Thank you: 1 care not to become a pirate;
?nd;’as I before told you, my life I do not care

or.

"Then I will send you ashore and you will be
sold as a slave.”

“ So be it; and this young 'rlf”

“ Will be sent to the sultan s harem.”

“ Her fate is worse than mine. I pity her,
and hope she will never recover from the deep
swoon she now lies in,” said Launcelot Gren-
ville fearlesdy.

“ You are free—spoken, sir; but I pardon you,
and will treat you as my guest, until we reach
my stronghold on the coast of Morocco; from
there, I regret to say, you will have to serve a
Moorish master.”

Launcelot Grenville made no reply, but turn-
ed away, while the chief once more devoted
himself to the restoration of poor Maud from
the (lee swoon in which she had been so long,
lying,r Ii 6 one dead.

But at length the beautiful eyes slowly open-
erl,.and with a strange delicacy, not to be looked
for in one who had won the name of the Red
Ruis. on account of his cruel deeds, the corsair
clllnl' stepped back from view and said:

“Let her see your face, sir. ’ ‘

L-umcelot at once advanced to the side of
Maud. who, at sight of him, stretched forth her
hands, and cried:

“Thank Heaven. you are safe! but my poor
fai'lﬁ‘, what of him? ’

" He died like a brave man, Miss Menken, de-
fending his deck.”

"1) all? My poor father dead and I am all
alone,” and the poor girl bowed her head in

di-c Pst grief.

"QlVould that were all, poor girl.”

Maud started at the doc tones of Launcelot,
and looked inquirineg at Elm.

“ What can be worse f” she whispered.

“ You are the captive of a Moorish corsair.”

“ And on! are not you also a captive?”

“Yes: ut I am a man, and you are a beauti-
ful woman.”

She understood him, and a shudder shook her
frame, as again the proud head was bowed in
sorrow.

But in a moment it was raised, and the eyes
ﬂashed, as she said:

“ I do not fear to die and with my own hand

will I take my life when hope has left me. I
can free my soul, if not my body, from the
power of the cruel Moor.”
. " Lady, let me beseech you not to harm our-
self. In In care you are safe, and I w'l see
that no in ignity is offered you, for you are
destined for the palace of the sultan,” and the
corsair ste ped forward and confronted Maud,
who shrun back at sight of him.

“You, sir, as a Moorish subject, may deem
the sultan’s palace an abode of honor; but I do
not, and—” and she dropped upon her knees be-
fore her eatptor, “and, for the sake of all on
hold dear, ree me from the hated lifebe ore

me.

“ You do not seem like a Moor; you speak vanlﬁ
language as though it were your own, and '
have mercy upon me.”

" Lady, from the moment that you_ came on
board in vessel, I hold no power OVer you;
you are he prize of the Sidi, nil master,” and
the corsair left the cabin, and and was alone
with Launcelot Grenville.

In half an hour the chief returned, and the
corsair craft was under way, while astern came
the Reindeer, a Moorish crew on board.

In his courtly way the Red Rais made his
captive guests feel as comfortable as possible,
and so won upon their regard that they began
to hope that he would yet rescue them from the
fearful fates in store for them—the one to go to
the harem of the Sidi-of Morocco, the other to
become the slave of a Moorish master.

Allowed unrestricted freedom on board the

the deck to ther, the second day after their
capture, an , as was now their custom, plottin

some means of esca , when the quick'eye o

the sailor caught sig t of a distant sail.

Without appearing to notice it, he said,
quietly: "

“ There is a sail in sight and from her ri she
is a man-of'war, either English or Amer can.
See, it is just over the rt uarter.”

“I see it, and the ooris lookout has not
discovered it,” said Maud, earnestly.

“ And I hope will not. See, it is headin for
us! Pray Heaven it be a ﬂeet American cnﬁser,
for your sake.”

until there was no doubt of two things regard-
ing it in the mind of Launcelot—first, that it
was a vessel-of-war, and second, that it was an
American.

“ The Moors have not yet discovered it—how
strange,” said Maud, in a whisper.

“ Itis because she comes up astern. She is a.
small bri -of-war, carrying a dozen guns, and

inander has the right pluck, and from the we
he comes on, I believe he has. There comes
Rais.”

As Launcelot spoke the Red Rais came from
the cabin, and bowing pleasantly to his cap-
tives, his eyes swept the sea. _

Instantly they fell 11 on the strange sail, not a
league distant, and t on upon his crew, and
they fairly blazed with fury, as in thunder
tones he cried, in the Moorish tongue:

“Dogs of a burnt grandfather! do you sleep
when the foe is upon you? Ahoyl, here, the
watch and the emcer of the deckl o my feet,
blind hounds!”

Instantly all was excitement on board, and
the drowsy watch Were now wide awake, and

 
lenl toward their chief.
“ 0 your guns, dogs!

I the two look-outs, who shrunk before his gaze.

“ Merc , oh mighty skimmer of the sea, and
E ea le of t e blue waters!” cried the Soto Rais.
ut the eyes fell upon the two seamen, and
,1 dril‘opplng upon their knees they sung out in
c orus:

“ Mighty Rois el Rais,+ thy slaves beg thy ,

mercgY l”
Bu there was no mercy in that handsome,
' dark face, and waving his and he said simply:
} “ You must die, for your blindness may cost
better men their lives.”
, The three doomed men bowed their heads in
,r submission. and at another wave of the hand a
, negro of giant form approached, bearing in his
hand a huge sword.

“ Let them die: do your duty,” said the chief, '

stcrnly.
Up to this moment‘neither Launcelot nor
, Maud had believed that the guilty three would
; be very severely punished: ut now they saw
5 that their fate was to be death, and the maiden
l —-

* Lieutenant. t Captain of captains.

corsair vessel, Launcelot and M ud were pacing .

Nearer and nearer came the strange craft; .
higher and higher it arose above the horizon, ,

will attac this craft, strong as it is, if her com- '

with the ofﬁcer of the deck, came walking sul- ,

Now, bounds of a f
l‘cursed race, what have you to say?” and he
‘ turned his ﬂaming eyes upon the Soto Ruis‘l‘ and ,

made a step forward as though to beg for them;
but Launcelot drew her back, saying, quietly:

“ It may seem cruel. but there will be three
less for yonder vessel to ﬁght, and if spared,
these fellows would ﬁght like ﬁends to redeem
themselves.”

Maud turned away, and yet her ears heard
the swish of the sword, and the thudas it struck
the neck of the Soto Rois.

The negro executioner knew his hideous duty
well for the head dropped from the shoulders
and1 tfelled down to the lee scuppers, a hideous
si .

nstantly the executioner approached the next

victim, and again the revolting scene was repeat-
ed, and again, until the three men with no cry
for mere 11 )0!) their lips, had suffered the pen-
alty to w ic their chief had condemned them.

5 the bodies were thrown into the sea, a puff
of smoke came from the bows of the strange
vessel, and a solid shot came ﬂying after 1 ie
corsair craft, but fell short.

The chief glanced over his vessel, to see that
his crew were all ready for action, and then,
with a placid, smiling face, a preached the
stern where Launcelot and Man stood.

“ You saw that sail, doubtless, sir?” he asked,
inquiringly.

‘ Yes, when only her topmasts were visible,”

frankly returned Launcelot.

“ She intends to engage me, and I am lad I
sent our vessel straight to the stronghol , as I
will have all I can do to take care of myself,
for the Americans ﬁght well, sir. ” .

“You recognize then that the vessel is an
American?”

“ Oh, yes, I have twice before fought that ves-
‘sel. It 18 the brig-of-war, Horne-t.”

Launcelot Grenville started, for the last time
he had heard of his brother Arthur, he was a.
I junior lieutenant on board the Hornet. A

crowd of bitter memories rushed upon him. .

“Perhaps \. 9 may change places, Captain

. Grenville, and I, in a short while, be a captive;
‘ if so, I will to you this ring; it will be a talis-
man to protect you from all Moorish and Alge-
, rine corsairs ” and El Rais handed to Lanna-let
' amassive go d rin in which was set a blood:
red stone, with a diamond of rare luster imbed-
ded in the center,

Within the ring was engraved in Moorish let-
ters, what read, when translated: ,

“ Respect the Pledge—Red Rois cl Rat's.”

Mechanically Launcelot Grenville took the
ring, or, rather allowed the chief to place it up
on his ﬁnger, and, ere he could reply, there cam!
another shot from the American brig, Whig?
went ﬂying just above the deck of the corsair

“ Permit me to escort you to the cabin, Mm
Menken,” and the Rais led Maud away, whit!
and trembling with dread and hope, while
Launcelot turned his looks earnestly upon the
pursuing vesSel.

In a moment El Rais returned, equipped for
the fray, and in his eyes there was a dangerous

litter, while his deep voice rang out in orders
his savage crew.

Instantly the corsair vessel wore round, and
from her roadside a heavy fire was  Illr
on the Americ .n, who, in spite of being hit hard
returned the ﬁre savagely.

, Calm! surveying the combat, Launcelot
l Grenvil e at once arrived at the conclusion that
the American was determined not to board the
. corsair, or allow the Moor to board hm). Well
{ knowing the desperate courage of his foe at
‘ close quarters.

The reason for this, Launcelot discovered, was
‘ that the American seemed to haveasmallcrew,
and Would trust to crip ling the Moor With his
guns and either make im strike his colors, or
sink im. '
‘ That the Rais was not fighting in his usual
way, by running in and boarding, Launcelot
saw also, and knew that he was also short “of
i men, after his losses in his fight Withthe Rein-
deer. and the prize crew sent 03 on that ship;
besides, he had little to gain by capturing aves-
, sel-of-war, as beauty and booty were what the
Moor wanted, and not |~ot shot and steel.

For some moments the two vessels swung
round in a circle, pourin in a hot ﬁre at the dis-
‘ tance, of a few cahles’ ength, and then er‘ch
‘ seemed to wish to draw off to a greater range;
1 but before the.) seeparated to too great a dis«

tance Launcelot wrenville, through a glass
handed him by the courteous Rais, recognizwl
upon the quarter-deck of the American, lll‘i'
brother Arthur.

“ I will have to run for it, for onder come'i
‘ another enemy I know well—an iigllshman,”
and El Rais pointed of! on the horizon, where
was visible 8. sloop-of war hastening to tlii
scene.” I

Instantly he gave his orders, and away dart.
ed the corsair craft before the wind, heading
directly for the Barbary coast, distant about
I ten leagues. ,

Crowding his vessel With all the canvas it
could stand, the R-iis ih-w on, while his stern
guns poured upon the American a liotﬁrewhich
was returned with interos'.

Astern, two leagues, came the English sloop.
of-war, crowded with canvas, and if the fire of

1 the bow-guns, of the brig should cripple the
corsair in her rigging, La uncelot knew there

 
r a

 
,‘M .i__n_.w._-f-.n_..,.._.... . .~

Freelance, the Buccaneer. '7

 
would be but one alternative for El Rais, and
that was to ﬁght it out to the bitter end, or
surrender. .

“Captain Grenville, if I am crippled, I Will
:never surrender m Vessel, but blow her up
with my crew; yet will first place you and my
fair captive in a small boat, and cast you free.”

Launcelot was struck by the noblcness of the
man, and at once extended his hand to him,
which El -Rais grasped, while he said With a
smile:

“ For the sake of Miss Menken and yourself, I
could almost wish that my determination would
have to be carried out; but for my_sake. I would
prefer that you remain my captives,” and.he
turned away to watch the effects of the brig’s
fire, his face as placid as though no danger, or
terrible death threatened him.

But the Moor seemed in luck, rather than the
American, for a shot aimed by the Rais him-
self, cut away the foretopmast of the brig, and
a second one also damaged the rigging.

A yell broke from the corsair crew at this, for
they seemed to read their fate in their chief’s
face, should victory go against them.

But the English sloop-of-war was comin on
with a huge bone in her teeth, and the oor
kept his vessel under all the canvas that would
draw, and still poured a hot ﬁre from his stern
guns at the American, who by no means had

.given up the chase.

e, stern face, unniindful of the dan-
'mself, Launcelot Grenville stood on

With
r to

eck, watching the ﬂying ﬁght, and then turned

his eyes ahead.

The Rais saw his look, and said quietly:

“ The chances are in my favor, sir; there
loom up the hills of Morocco, and there is my
:stron hold.”

“ es, I believe that you will escape, and, as
you have already shown that you are not the
cruel chief you are painted, I beg of you to

lace your fair captive in one of our boats and
cave or to be icked up by you or vesseL”

"’ And yours i” quietly asked El Rais.

“ For myself I ask nothing; in fact I would
rather become the slums of a cruel Moor, than
meet one persoa on yonder brig.”

El Rais raised his arched brows in surprise,
but he answered in a tone of regret:

“I am sorry, sir, but I cannot release this
lady; it is as much as my head is worth, did it
get to the ears of the Sidi, and it certainly
would; but for that I do not care—I have
stronger reasons for wishing to detain her; but
you, sir, I will drop astcrn in a boat, if you will
accept your pardon, and Iyou can disguise your-
Self sothat you need no be known tothe one
you care not to meet.”_ .

Launcelot was surprised; what could the Ram

meant

Would he not be responsible to the Sidi for
him as well as for Man i

There was some mystery at the bottom of this
he could not fathom.

“Will on dis uise yourself, sir, and accept
your par on?” ca ly asked El Rois.

Launcelot hesitated; here was a chance to re-
gain his freedom, and if he did not care to be
 by his brother a disguise would pre«
vent.

His brother he had not seen since they parted
several years before in perfect brother] love
though rivals for the hand of a woman t bad
came between them. .

After that parting when be determined to re-
turn to the Mexican service, and leave his
brotth free to marr the woman he knew that
he dearly loved, Art iur Grenville  suddenl
dl red, and circumstantial ev1dence poin -
ed to auncelot Grenville as his murderer, and
he was tried and convicted of the crime, but
esca d, as the kind reader knows, from be-
nea the very gallows, and went again into the
service of Mexico.

Whether his brother had married Helen
Braiuard he knew not, but he had once heard
of him as an ofﬁcer on board the Hornet, and on
the deck of that veml, not a mile away, he had
recognized him, and his heart went forth in a
longing to clasp his hand; but before him arose
his trial, his sufferings, his condemnation to
death, and then the terrible fate of poor Luellle,
and he shrunk from meeting Arthur.

True, the return of his brother the day after
Launcelot’s esca e from the gallows, had proved
him uiltless 0 his death, or wrong against
him; ut then the lief-crushed man felt that
some bitter curse launtcd his life, and be de-
termined to be considered as dead to all who
had known him befoxe. .

Did he accept the oifer of El Rais he would be
free; but then he would leave poor Maud alone
to-her fate. .

No, he would remain a pI'lSOneI‘, and ‘perhaps
in some way he could yet serve the mal e_n.

“I prefer to remain a prisoner, El Ems,” he
said, in answor to the question of the chief if he
would disguise himself beyond recognition and
acne his freedom. .

“ you please,” said E1 Rais, somewhat
curtly, and he turned again to the duties de-
volving upon him. -

Higher and h' her loomed up the hills of
Moroeco until, a though the English sloo f-
‘Wur and the American brig were now th

 
ﬁring upon the corsair there seemed little
doubt but that the bold c 'ef would escape, es-
pecially as, from under the shadow of the land,
were seen several vessels standing out from the
hill-encircled bay, which was the rendezvous or
stronghold of the piratical ﬂeet, under the com-
mand of El Rais Aboukah, the name of the re-
nowned Moorish rover.

Having reached a point from whence escape
was certain, the corsair wore round and poured
a heavy broadside u n the American, and then
a second upon the nglish sloop-of-war, after
which he sailed leisurely on to meet the three
vessels comin to his succor, while his pursuers,
with return , put about and stood slowly
seaward, not caring to invite an action with the
Moors under the guns of their stronghold.

The face of the Rais did not change when he
saw his pursuers put back, and going to the
cabin he called Maud upon deck.

She obeyed. tho h her face showed traces of
suﬂenng' d, and she ittcrly felt the change from

hope to espair.

league more and the shot-torn corsair sail—
ed into the hill-locked harbor, under a salute
from the forts, and the anchor was let fall just
as darkness crept over land and water, and cast
a deeper gloom upon the hearts of the two pris-
oners, who felt now no hope for the future.

CHAPTER VII.
WITHOUT MERCY.

THE harbor into which the corsair had sought
refuge, was one of the rendezvous of the pirati-
cal hordes that were found almg the coast of
Morocco at the time of which I write.

It was stronglylﬁprtiﬂed, and from its well.
protected haven, f a dozen vessels, large and
small, were wont to sally forth to cruise '
the commerce of the world, and though carry.
ing the ﬂag of the Moor, also ﬂoated above
their deck t e black ensign of the pirate, which
gertainly was more fit to represent their dark

Over this stron hold and ﬂeet El Rais Abou-
kah, or the Red is, held command, while he
was alsoa chief of a mountain tribe of Moors
known as the Amazer and a bran and war-
like race of which his ather had been sheik be-
fore him.

Twenty—ﬁve or six years before, an American

' l, a captive, had been purchased by Sheik

boukah, and the Red Rais was the oﬂspri
of this ill-matched union, though the old chie -
tain had always treated his fair young wife
with great courtesy and kindness.

Contrary to the wish of his parents, the young
Aboukah took to the sea, and his at cour-
age soon laced him in command 0 a v
and won or him the res t and admiration 0
his sultan who made in commodore of the
stronghold and ﬂeet.

Tho h a bold rover, and who had won the
name the Red Rats u n accountofhismany
victories and battles, El was wont to spend
a few months if each year at his mountain
home with his parents, until death took from
him his mother, and his father dyin soon after,
the young corsair became chief, or s eik of the
Amazer tribe, and from their brave ranks he
formed 6 crew of his vessel, and his will was
sugreme.

pon the arrival of the corsair craft at the
harborage, Launcelot Grenville beheld the tall
masts and high hull of the Reindeer lying at an-
chor near, and around her were numerous small
boats carrying her shoreward.

Maud recognized, , dark though it w
the well-known rig of her father’s vessel, an
the tears cameto her eyes, and her heart was
too full to speak.

“My friends, I must still claim on as my
guests, but at myeguarters ashore. me!” and

[Hats a proac thes t where his captives
stood, an motioned to a arge boat ide.

Without a word they entered it, and t e keel
soon after grated upon the beach, and El Rais
placed Maud on shore, and tcllin Launcelot to

ollow, led the way up the steep illslde to his
quarters when on an .

Maud gazed curiously around her as she en-
tered the home of the Moor chieftain—a low-
built,.yet comfortable abode in the rude style of
Moorish architecture and furnished in a style
that was not conﬁned to any one land for there
was a. mixture of the Oriental and European,
to which many an unfortunate vessel had con-
tributed.

AssigninaMaud a pleasant room, he escorted
Launcelot another, and to their surprise they

saw no guard p over them- but then how
appehlfess the thought of escape in that land of
e 00!.

The following mornin El Rois sent for his
captives, and t en joine them at breakfast, for
his mother’s trainin , and experience with for-
eigners, had made 0 this strange man almost a
Euro 11 in taste and manners.

B0 of the ca tives noticed that the Rain
seemed moodyan that his brow was clouded,
so they were not surprised when he said, in his
quiet way:

“ This morningnwe must part, my friends.”

gather spoke answer, and E1 Bals contin-
u :
“A messenger from his mighty Sidi com-

 
mands me to go at once on a cruise to head off
a ﬂeet of East Indiamen, and I am ordered to
forward my prisoners immediately, undet’
guard, to the capital.”

Maud started. and her face grew livid; tu'
Launcelot calmly asked: .

“ Have you many prisoners, El Raisi”

“ Some thirty besides yourselves, sir; but they
are mostly cowardly dogs,.and you could not
get them to risk their ives in striking a blow
for their freedom.”

Launcelot Grenville’s face ﬂushed, for he saw
that the Rais had read his intention. '

“ Besides,” continued the corsair chief, “the
sultan’s memenger is accompanied by his own

uard under the knid of the slaves.”

“ Then there is no hope,” groaned Maud Mer
ken, in a broken voice.

“ I must obey my sultan, lady; your escort.
will]l be ready to start within half an hour—fare-
we .

He held forth his hand, and Maud dropped
upon her knees before him.

“Save me, oh, save me, for the sake of th“
mother you loved so well I”

“ How can I?” ‘

His voice was cold and his face emotionless.

‘ he servant who acted as my maid Ben'ch
your mother in the same capacity. She speak v
En lish, and she told me you were a great chief
on d as well u on the sea, and that your
tribe dwelt in the mountains, a few leagues
from here. Certainly a man thus powerful can
ask of his sultan two unfortunate captives; b.
will accede to our desire, and Captain Gren
ville and m can then go free, for you have
a noble heart in spite of the red name you
bear. ”

Maud spoke with dee feeling, and in a
pleadin tone, but the ch ef’s face never relaxed
a muse e; he would not grant her request, and
said in his even tones:

“ A captive of your beauty the sultan would
never yield to me.

“But he has not seen me, sir,” interrupted
Maud.

“His messenger has, and so has the kaid cf
the slaves; they saw you when we landed last
niguhtt.” I am sorry, but I cannot grant your re'
qu
sailaor an instant Maud was silent, and then shw

“You can at least let this gentleman go

ee

“ I offered him his freedom and he refused it. ,
As much as I regret it,he must be sold into
bondage.”

“ Heaven have mer upon us 1” ground poor
Maud; but Inuncelot renville showed no sign
of dreading his fate, though in his face dwelt
deep sympath for the maiden, while he in-
wardly cursed is inability to aid her.

For a moment Maud seemed utterly broken-
hearted; but with great effort she controlled
herself, and with haughty-face and ﬂashing eyes
turned upon the chief.

“I am ready, Sir Corsair; but I am not yet
the toy of a cruel tyrant.”

Both the chief and Iauncelot Grenville were
struck with admuution at the magniﬁcent cour-
a of the maiden, and she certainly never look-

more beautiful in her life than she did at that
moment, for her form was drawn u to its full
hight,a ﬂush was upon either chee her li s
curled with scorn, and were yet resolute, w e
her wondroudy expressive eyes ﬂashed ﬂre.

With a how the chief left thereon, and afew
moments after a cavalcade drew up before the
door, consisting of half a hundred Moorish cav-
alry, a score or more of miserable captives,
mostly Spaniards, and among whom were sev-
eral women, a gorgeouslgéuniformed Moor, who
was the oilicersentast messen ofthesul-
tan, and a huge negro, hideous in looks, and
richly attired, whom the Ra'n addressed asthe
kaXl of the slaves. “ed h

ridil -ca ' orse was ready for
Maud, only a $250 woman brought and threw
around her a Will, which completely hid‘ her
form and face.

Then the kaid of the slayes stepped forward
and at out his arm tormse her to the saddle,
but 1 Ram thrust him aside and raising her in
his arms, seated her secur y. and placed the
reins in her hands, the kaid scowling upon him.

“ And this dog of a Christian—bind him.”and
the kaid turned to Launcelot, who was at once

seized.

“Holdi that man rides with free arms and
limbs. It is my wish he isnot bound,” said El
Rais quietly.

“ ﬁpon your head be it, oh Rais,” angrily re-

plied the bid.

“ ponm head beit,dogof unaccursed
race,’ came be quick retort.

_The kaid his hand upon the gemmed
hilt of his swo but he caught the ﬂashing eye
of the corsair chief, and turned away; but there
was that in his look which betokmed no good to
Launcelot Grenville, should he give the slightest
cause of offense.

A horse was then brought, and Imuncclot
mounting, the cavalcade moved awn , the Rnis
lifti his ulkm turban to Maud, an waving a
hand .n farewell to his captives. ’

A rule of ten leagues, through a barren. roll-

8 Freelance, the Buccaneer.

 
ing country, and the cavalcade came to a halt

under the shadow of a low range of hills, and

pre tions were made for camping for the

pig t5 the captives all being considerably fa-
e .

veral of the guards at once pitched a silken
tent for Maud and the other female captives,
and food was placed before them, while the
mirle prisoners were allowed to shift for them-
se ves.
[ Untrammeled by bonds, and his breast torn
V with sorrow for the fate of Maud, Launcelot
' Grenville walked a short distance awai, but the
watchful eye of the kaid was upon im, and
feelingthow impossible it was to escape, he threw
himse down to rest, in full sight of the en-
campment.

Gradually the sun went down and darkness
was creeping over the earth, when out from a
clump of date trees dashed a band of horsemen.

Like the wind they swept around the camp,
and loud and rapid run out the rattle of mus-
ketry, as the guards of t e kaid ﬁred upon them.

A moment only did the combat last, and then
the attacking horsemen dashed away, while
from the't midst came a loud cry:

“ Save me, oh, save me!”

It was the voice of Maud Menken, and Launce—
lot Gaenville knew that she appealed to him
or an .

Instantly he sprung into the saddle of a loose
steed and dashed awa ; but a loud order was
heard in the voice of t e kaid, a volley of mus-
ketry followed, and the ﬂying horse, with al-
most a human cry, fell headlon to the earth,
throwing his rider far over his ead, where he
lay like one dead. __

CHAPTER VIII.
IN BONDAGE.

Banana the shelter of a few date trees,
which, grouped together above a sprin of wa-
ter, formed an oasis in the desert—an nd of
verdure surrounded by a sea of rolling sand and
arid desolation—stood a man, gazing out over
the wild waste of dreariness with a far-away
look that proved his thoughts had ﬂown to
other scenes than those by which he was sur-
rounded.

He was a person of splendid hysique, as his
scant dress plainly showed; his air and beard
were long and dark, while his skin was tanned
to the hue of copper.

Scattered among the trees, having just re-
freshed themselves at the cool water of the
spring, were a number of camels, while ﬂocks
of hardy desert sheep cropped at the grass that
grew around.

It was near the sunset hour, and like a huge
ball of ﬁre the God of Day was descending be-
yond the desert horizon, and altogether the
scene was not unpictnresque with the lonely
man there amid the dumb brutes it washis duty
to care for. .

In that splendidly-formed man, in spite of the
two long and cruel years of bondage he had un-
dergone, in spite of his cruel sufferings and
desert life and notwithstandin his long and
matted hair and beard the er cannot fail
to recognize Launcelot Grenville.

Yes, Launcelot Grenville, the once proud,
elegant man, now the slave of a Moor, the bond-
man of a cruel master, the keeper of desert
ﬂocks and camels, and, in rags and loneliness,
a itiable object indeed.

ut the ﬁre in his eyes was not quenched, the
fearless, resolute face was still the same, though
marked by lines of physical suﬂering and men-
tal agony, heart-burnings and despair of hope on
rt

ea h.

He had been taken to the Moorish ca ital,
and had become the property of the kaid o the
slaves, who sold him to a sheik of the desert,
and far away he was dragged b his master to
his home in that wilderness o sand. Home!
Alas, his home was to drift with the wild tribe
from place to place, to sleep upon the sands, to
eat that whic was thrown to him as a dog,
from the savage who held his life in his hand-—
to tend the four-footed wealth of the Moor who
had paid his ﬁld for him, and to brood over his
sorrow and ope on for a time when he could
escape rom thralldom.

Suddenly far off on the desert his quick eye
caught sig t of a moving object, and he bent his
gaze uﬁon it.

“ It a camel, but mine are all in the oasis,”
he said, indiﬂerently, glancing over the herd.

Nearer and nearer the camel drew, until it
w evident that there was a rider upon its

k.

‘ Upon making this discovery, the herdsman
stepped off a ew paces and returned with a
long musket, which he eaned against thetree
at his side.

Another glance at the coming camel showed
him that another animal of like species fOIIOWed
in the wake of the leader, but that this one had
no rider.

At along, swingin pace the two camels came
on, heading direct y for the oasis, and with
their heads stretched far in front, with that
eager expectancy shown by these “ ships of the
desert ” when they know that water is user.

In half an hour after being discovsred, and
Just as the sun touched the horizon, the camels

 
ran into the oasis and buried their noses in the
cool spring, while the rider sprung to the ground
and advanced toward the herdsman, the palms
of the hands turned toward him to indicate that
he was friendly.

“ Allah arienak ”* said the stranger quietly,
and the herdsman de him welcome.

“ I seek the ﬂocks of Abdallah Bourkih,” re-
sponded the new-comer.

“ His herds are here; I am their tender. ”
hThe stranger azedd ﬁaight} into the face of
t e speaker an sai ' tinct :

“ renvillel” , y

The herdsman started, and the blood rushed
into his face, for that name he had not heard
spoken for two lon years, as his master called
him Mozah, whic being interpreted means
stranger.

Surely the man before him was a Moor, and
yet, how could he know his name?

As he had learned to speak the lan
fectly, during his years of bondage,
returned:

“ Yes, I am Grenville; what would you?”

The Moor made no reply, but drew from his
belt a small iece of paper and handed to the
herdsman, w o rly seized it, and beheld,
written thereon, in a round hand, these words:

“Follow the bearer. His camels are the ﬂeetest
in the desert."

There was no signature, and the handwriting
was not familiar to him; yet that the words
were addressed to him there was no doubt, for
the bearer of the note had pronounced his
name.

“ From where come you?” he asked. But
here the man became non-committal, and point-
ed to the note, then to the camels, and then
across the desert.

389 Per-
uncelot

“I will with you this night; no change
canrbe for e worse, and what care I for dan-
ger

The Moor’s face brightened, and egoing to his
saddle, he untied a bundle attach to it and
handed to the herdsman, who eagerly opened

it. .

Within he found two serviceable pistols, a
sword, and a suit of clothing, such as was worn
by the Moorish merchants, together with a sum
0 gold, and like trinkets to serve as the “small
change ”’of the desert, and presents for those to
whom it might be necessary to give something
in the course of his journeyings.

Eager] the white slave searched for another
missive t t mi ht tell him more than he could
ﬁnd out from t e one who had brought him
hope, but nothing else was visible, and the
Moor’s mouth was sealed as t9 where he was
going, or from whence he had come.

Having determined to go with the Moor,
though 6 knew death would follow if over-
taken by his master, he looked to the comfort of
the camels, got together his store of dates,
milked the camels killed a sheep and made a
stew of it, after which he invited his visitor to
take sup r with him, and a hearty meal the
two ate, or Launcelot Grenville, with the hope
of escape from his cruel captivity, felt his blood
all aﬁre, and really enjoyed his repast, humble
as it was.

Then Inuncelot set about reparing his k-
age of food to carry with t em; but the cor
told him he had come well-stocked with provi-
sions, and had more than ample for both of
them. Then the two la down to rest.

An hour after midnig t, Launcelot Grenville
awoke, and arousing h s companion, they made
preparations for an immediate de rture, and
were soon mounted upon their sw camels and
going at a fair pace over the desert.

As the day broke they discovered a party of
three horsemen coming toward them, and at a
glance the herdsman recognized his master, Ab-

allah Bourkih, and his two brothers, who were
returning from a trip to the coast.

At once he made known to his companion and
guide who they were, but trusting to his dis-
guise:1 as a merchant, hoped to pass unrecognized

y t em.
With manifestations of friendshi the two
parties approached each other, Abd ah Bour-
ih and s brothers mounted upon the swift,
wiﬁy steeds of the desert.
ot to betray himself the herdsman remained
silent, and the Moor did the talking, telling lies
about who the were, or rather were not, as
glibl y as thong lyingxlwas his profession.

But all the ime A allah was eyin Launce-
lot close] , and as the parties separate the old
sheik of he desert shook his head ominous! .

Hardly had a mile divided them, when f M-
ing back the Moor saw a camel with a ri er on
his back dash over a sand-hill and halt by the
horsemen, at the same time pointing toward the
fugitives.

It is Nessak. the son of Ahdallah,” said
Launcelot, calmly.

“ Then let us put our camels to their speed,”
said the Moor.

“ No, let us not drive them hard until there is
need; if we are ursued now, I will ﬁ ht them.”

“ Abdallah urkih is a great elk,” the
Moor sug ed.

“ wou d kill the sultan did he stand between

*Godhewithm

 
and the Moor caressed his beard at the tho
of any one offering harm to the great Sidi.

It was now evident that the camel-rider had
gone to the oasis, and ﬁnding the herdsman not
there, had started in pursuit, for he was gesticu-
lating wildl , and the result was the four Moors
turned on t e track of the fugitives.

Launcelot quietly unslung the long musket he
had brought with him, and placed his pistols
ready for use, the Moor, who called himself Se—
lim, following his example.

Like the wind the pursuers came on and a
stern resolve was on the face of Launce at, for
he remembered how cruel had been his treat-
ment from the sheik and those with him, and
for long months he had been nursing a hope of
revenge u 1] them.

“ Mezra , son of an accursed race, stop at the
command of thy master!” elled Ahdallah,
when they came close enough be heard.

“ Sheik Abdallah press me not, or I will kill
you,” cried Launce ot, in stern tones.

But the sheik feared not the slave who so 1011115
had been under his control, and, calling to
kinsmen to follow, he dashed on, a long pistol in
his hand.

“ I warn you off, Sheik Ahdallah,” said
Launcelot, and he brought his musket round for
use, and came to a halt.

The reply of the Moor was to ﬁre at his slave.
It was the last act of his life, for, as the bullet
from his pistol whizzed above the head of
Launcelot. the musket 1: run to his shoulder a
report followed, and t e S eik Ahdallah (all
from his saddle, a dead man.

Instantly, with a pistol in each hand, Launce-
lot turned upon the others, crying to his com-

mon:

“ hoot them down or the will bri a bun-
dred riders upon our track.” y n8

Selim at once obeﬂed; his musket ﬂashed with
the two pistols of uncelot, and the weapons
of their enemies.

But the aim of the horriﬁed and demoralized
brothers and son of Ahdallah was and
neither of the fugitives was in'ured whi e the
dropping of their fees from t eir orsee and
camel proved that they had ﬁred unerringly.

But the son of the sheik at once sprung to his
feet, and, thou h wounded, threw himself on
the back of his ather’s steed, and dashed away
across the desert with the speed of a bird.

“Come, Selim; it were useless to attempt to
catch him. Let us take their arms and away

me and freedom,” was the determined reup‘lzé

from here,” cried Launcelot, and seizing the

weapons and provisions of the dead Moors, the
two men mounted their ﬂeet camels, and at a
steady, swinging gait, pressed on their way, for
they well knew that Abdallah’s whole tribe
would be in Ipursuit within a few hours, when
warned by t e sheik’s son of his father’s death
at the hands of his slave.

CHAPTER IX.

rim mzrmo QUEEN.

WITHIN the heart of the range of mountains
that run back from the coast, a few leagues in
the interior of Morocco, dwell the Amaze
the most warlike and intelli ent of the Moorish
tribes, and who, under 8. ch ef who inherits the
title which descends from father to son, are the
most feared of any of the wandering 11088 Of
that strange land.

The retreats of the Amazergs were in the
fastnesses of the wild range from which the
take their name, and if other than one of th r
tribe ever entered their secluded homes, it was
as a prisoner for they had often, when in re-
volt against the sultans, beaten back the trained
soldiers sent a 'nst them, and conquered their
own terms wit the haught Sidi. .

The best horsemen o orocco, owning the
the best and ﬂeetest herd of desert or mountain
steeds. armed literally from head to foot, and of
splendid physical development, they were foes
t at few dared to meet, and were called both
mountian lions and desert kings, for they were
equally at home in scaling the lofty hights or
ﬂying across the sand plains.

It is among this be that I would have my
reader accompany me, and to the most preten-
tious of their mountain homes—a house almost
modern in its build, surrounded by broad ve-
randas, and furnished with an .eye to every
comfort and luxury—strange things indeed in
that far region. .

Half—reclininsaupon a silken divan out upon
the cool veran , and gazing listlesst far over
the superb and grand scene read out before
her—a scene of mountain fa nemes, valle
sparkling streams, tree-covered hills, a Wide
stretch of desert and the blue sea beyond—was
a woman of surpassing lovehne, and scarcely
over twenty-one or two.

Her form was exquisitely molded, and attired
in the pretty costume worn by Moomh women,
while the vail was thrown back over the silken

 
rban.

A fortune in jewels was upon her person, a
guitar ‘lay at her side, a silver tray with fruit
and coffee stood near, books were piled in con-
fusion upon the ﬂoor, and all around indicated
that she was a potted beauty, indulged in every

w 111.
And yet, though the face was beautiful, far

 
a

Freelance, the Buccaneer. 9

 
.__.',.._..

back in the dreamy eyes dwolt a look of deep
sadness. as though the roses that strewed her
path did not keep the thorns out of her heart
and a, sigh that broke from her slightly-parted
lips told that some sorrow had come upon her.

As she turned her eyes, from their wistful
:r'lze across the sea they fell upon two horsemen
amending the hillside toward the house, and she
‘1 iii sprung from the divan as she appeared to
recognize one of them.

“ It is Selim—yes; but the other—no, it can-
not be and yet it may be, for it has been long
since. I saw him. Yes it is, it is none other!
That form I can never forget,” and she arose to
her feet. just as the horsemen halted near and
sprung to the ground, while one of them ad-
vancedquickly, gazing intently into the face of
the woman.

“ Captain Grenville! Free at last! Thank
Heaven!” and the woman held out both hands
to greet the man who advanced toward her and

spruﬁg ucpon the piazza.

“ au Menken! You then are my preserver!
I have guessed it,” and Launcelot Grenville
bent low and kissed the hand that grasped his

own.

“I saved you, yes. Would to God I could
have done so long ago, but,” and the beautiful
face ﬂushed crimson “I am no longer the Maud
Menken you knew, aptain' Grenville, for I am
the wife of—”

“ The Red Rais?” broke in Launcelot.

“Yes; we were married one year ago by a
Spanish priest, captured on one of the prizes
taken by my husband,” and Maud gazed in—
tently into the face of the man before her, as
though hoping to see it clouded with sorrow-
but no change crossed the countenance of
Lzluncelot Grenville at the news he heard, and
he said quietly:

“Tell me more of yourself; but ﬁrst, let me
congratulate you upon your escape from the
harem of the sultan. ’

“ Thank Heaven I ‘escaped that dishonor!
Nay, I would have died by my own hand, when
hope had entirely left me: but El Rais is at
heart a noble man, and that he truly loves me, 1
know for he has proven it.

“ nable to save me, o ly, from the fate
for which I was intended, e arranged that his
mountain horseman should kidnap me that night
when we cam d, and Iwas brought hither.

“The Sidi umed at the loss of avictim, of
course, but it was said the desert robbers had
stolen me, and be attached no blame to El Ibis,
who kept it a deep secret that I was here.

“You, it was said, were killed in the attack
upon the cam , and bitter! I mourned for you,
and so did Rais, for i was his intention to
have urchased you, and in the end to give you
your reedom.

“A week after m coming here, El Rais ar-
rived, and frankly ld me of his love for me,
begging me to become his wife.

I ed for a year to consider, told him that
I wascast down in grief for the death of my
father and yourself, and he gladly gave me the
promise that I should go free at the end of that
time if I did not then love him.

“ but, during those twelve months he proved
himself so noble, and in so many little ways
showed his trruftmalelgood, that frlpdml 
tion, my rega urn to respect a ove, an
be ielded to my wish to have a priest unite us,
on one year I have been his wife and the
Queen of the Amazer , and, though I am not
happyiu this land of t e Moors, I amatleast
at peace ”

‘ I believe that you have acted wisely, Maud
and I hope every happine may ever attend
you. 'I will never forget that you saved me
from a fate more cruelt an dest ,” and Launce-
lot Grenville shuddered at the thought of his
lon captivity.

“ t me tell you about that; a few months
egg) El Rais was called to see the sultan, and
w ile in the city learned in some wa that you
had not been killed, as we belie , but were
sold into slavery to a sheik of the desert, Abdal-
lah Baurkih, and I immediately determined to
send a trusty messenger to see if he could ﬁnd
you, and you, know not h6w happy I am that
you are once more free. How you must have
suffered, you only can tell. 4

“ It seems like a lon horrible dream to me
now; but, God forever less you, fair een of
the Amazergs, for. awaking me from be bid-
eous nightmare. But the Rois—where is he?”

“ He returns to-nlght, and will be delighted
to see you, for he has spoken of making you,
should Selim return successful from his search,
a Bush Soto Rats * of .1118 new vessel which the
sultan had built for hlm, and which he does not
intend to command, as he will leave the sea, an]
dwell here among his pic.” .

“ I am homeless an hopeless, fair (ween, but
I do not thinkl could accept the offer.

" You could do much good by so doing, as He-
surah Rais, the man whom the Sidl hasappoint-
ed to command her in place of El Rois, is a men-
ster inhuman, and woe be to the poor captives
whom he takes!”

Launcelot Grenville seemed deeply moved by
til': wort: : cf the Amr‘zcrg queen. She had be-

"' Lieutenant-inch; -l‘.

 
come a Moor by adoption; why should not be,
especially when it was in his power to do much
good as an oﬁlcer?

A corsair he must be, it was true, and yet he
was becoming reckless as to what Fate made of
him and he said, after an instant’s deliberation:

“If El Rais makes me Bash Soto Rat's, I will
accept it, come what may, for I am but the
football of Fate.”

CHAPTER X.

THE MYSTERIOUS PILOT.

CREEPING along the Morocco coast, and close
in land, was a. long, narrow-hulled, lateen-rig-
ged craft, that had a look in its whole tout en-
semble that would have caused an honest craft
to ive it a wide berth.

he hull, that seemed to crouch upon the wa-
ter, was pierced for six guns to a broadside, and
mounted three pivot lon thirty-twos, forward,
aft and amidshlps, whic could be worked to
ﬁre both starboard and port.

The sails were of enormous size for the ten-
nage of the craft, and that she was fast in a re-
markable degree was demonstrated by the fact
that she was making four knots out of a. two-
knot breeze.

Upon the decks were full a hundred and
ﬁfty men, a wild, cruel-loo gset of fellows,
whet would have enjoyed throat-cutting as a
s .

Aft were several ofﬁcers pacing to and fro,
smoking and chatting, and, with one exception,
wearing the reckless, cruel look of the men.

At the peak of the main lateen-yard ﬂoated
the ﬂag of the Moor, while at the fore-yard
peak was a black ﬂag with a red cimeter in‘ the

center.

Suddenly the ofﬁcer, before referred to as not
being as cruel- ' as his com nions, sprung
to the helm and put it hard own, while his
dee voice aroused every man to action.

e cause of this move, which headed the
craft at once for the shore was evident now to
all, for around a rocky cliﬁ.’ not half a mile
away, came the sharp bow and tall spars, crowd-
ed with canvas, of a sloop-of-war.

As the stranger forged out beyond the int,
a scene of excitement was visible upon her ecks,
and the roll of the drum beating to quarters was
distinctly heard, for the Moor was now evident-
ly seen by every eye on the 51008::;

Without an order, and accu med to daily
and night! combats, the Moors had at once
sprung to t eir ns, and in an instant the cor-
sair was strip for action, should it be forced
upon her; but as the stran r was double her
size it would be madness ﬁght, except as a
last resort, and surrender meant treatment as

pirates.

The emcer who 'had ﬁrst discovered the
strange vessel, and had put the corsair for the
shore, turned his glam calmly u 'n the sloop
and used for some time attentive y at the ﬂag,
whic , when the wind raised its folds, proved
to be the stars and stripes.

Luﬂing up, so as to bring her broadside to
bear the American cured in a hot ﬁre upon
the ﬁying corsair as er ns came in range
but except a splintered ulwark and sever
shots through the sails, no damage was done.

To the surprise evidently of the corsairs, and
also doubtless of the Americans, the oﬁicer who
commanded the Moorish vessel gave no order to
return the ﬁre, oul stood’ on toward the coast
Wlth all the speed t is could be gotten out of the
l' ht wind.

pen the deck of the American all was ex-
citement for they were anxious to capture the
Moor, whose black ﬂag, with red sword in the
center, proved it to be the vessel commanded by
the sea monster known as Mosul-ah Rais,who
had hitherto escaped every attempt at capture
or destruction.

“Captain Brainard, there is no opening in
yonder drift that I can see, and at he heads
directly for the coast,” said a sad- ced hand-
some young lieutenant to his commander who
sltood near him upon the quarter-deck of the
s 00 . v

“ e doubtless sees that with this wind, and
hemmed in as he is, escape is imlpoesible and
intends running his ﬂoating he on shore,
Grenville,” said Captain Brainard.

“ I believe after all there is some ng yon--
der" said Lieutenant Arthur Grenville, who
still kept his glass to his eye.

“ Then 've him another broadside, though I
hate to on up the prett vessel. "

“ Ay av, sir,” and ving the order the sloop
again luﬂed, and once more a broadside was
p lured upon the ﬂying corsair, and this time it
was evident that a number of the crew suﬂered.

But the corsair held on her course in silence,
not materially damaged by the ﬁre of the Amer-
lean.

“ It is strange the pirate does not return our
shots; he is getting merciful,” said Captain
Brainard.

“ I cannot account for it, sir. Ah, see there;
he has a hole to run into.”

As Arthur Grenville pointed to the corsair
craft, the long. sharp bowsprit and head-sails
sultleulvdisamiv:rul from sight, going. so it
looked from the sloop-of-war, directly into the

' face of the cliff. and a moment after the rrace
ful hull and clouds of canvas had vanish

i “ it is too bad! Stand on as we are, and tl‘er

* I will lay to and let you pursue in the boats
Grenville, for we must take that fellow ii pus
sible,” said Captain Brainard, and, after a

; proaching as near the coast as he dared, t 6
sleep was brought to, and the boats lowel ed and
ﬁlled with men.

“ Do not be rash, Grenville, and if I \\ ish t:
recall you I will ﬁre a gun,” and Captain Bi‘v.‘ *-
nard watched the boats row away, and saw tin ~
Elisa ar, as had the corsalr' , ill the very fate t

I e c .

An hour passed awa and Ca tain Brainmct

l grew restless, for no soghd of combat hrd c< mu

3 to his the wind had died away, and l.« x as

E forced to op an anchor to keep from (-I‘ifll‘ll;
upon the rock coast.

Then night was coming on, and far Up in the

‘ skies clouds were skurrying along with lightnirg

' speed while all below was calm. ’

1 “ Curse the Moor! I believe he has led us
into a trap, and if a storm comes on from sca-
ward we are likely to drive ashore. I wouncr

‘ what has become of Grenville?”

Thus another hour passed and the indications
of a storm becoming more decided, and night at
hand Captain Brainard gave the signal tore
call the boats.

The deep boom of the heavy gun broke the
calm, and echoed with ominous roar far along
the rocky, inhospitable shores, until it died awai
in the datum: but moments passed away anc
yet no sign of the returning boats.

“ Fire another gun, Mr. Armstrong, and 1:99;
them 11 , for I don’t like ourpresent situation
at all. e have no wind to ut to sea with, nc
boats to tow us offshore, an two-thirds of the
crew gone,” said Captain Brainard, pacing anx-
iously to and fro.

Again and a sin the signal-gun was ﬁred, and
night settled owr, shutting out the land fron'
view, still the boats did not return.

At length however, the sound of cars wa~
heard, and the look—out hailed:

“ Boat, ahoy! What boats are those?”

“Ay, ay, all right!” ' I

The answer was in the well-kncwn voice 0)
Arthur Grenville, and Captain Brainard felt:
great weight removed from his heart.

“Well, Arthur?” he exclaimed, meeting hi1
lieutenant at the gangway.

“ We meet with no success, sir, and could ﬁnd
no trace of the corsair, although I searched
every inlet and basin. Where the can have

one is a mystery to all of us, and I was nuts il‘
mg to give u the hope of ﬁnding him as lenga'
there was lig t.”

‘ I am scrry he has escaped us, and men
sorry that we are caught here. There is a bur
ricane brewing, you see?”

“ Yes, sir: but we could not see it from when
we were inshore. you know, I believe tht
men think the corsair was a phantom craft, fox.
he never returned our ﬁre. and his disappear
ance certainly was magical.”

“ He has some haunt inshore, Grenville.”

“ True sir, but to ﬁnd it was impcssible.”

“ Let him go for the present, and let us look
to our own surety. See, the ccean is getting
restless, and we have not wind enough to
move.”

“ I do not like our position. Suppose we tow
out to an ofﬁng.”

“ impossible; the tide sets in so strong, and
now the swell, that I was forced to drop both
anchors.”

“ They’ll not hold her, sir, in a blow."

l “ True, and if we cannot beat out, we will be
ost. .

The prospect of the sloop was anything but
cheering, as the roar of the crming storm rew
louder each moment, and was riving and
ward, while the coast was not a third of a mile
awa .

“ Sloop-of-war ahoy!”

The deep voice startled all onboerd the vessel,
and caused many of the superstitious sailors to
crouch with fear, coming as did the hail from
out the pitcby darkness land“ ard.

At ﬁrst it was believed that the corsair was
upon them, but no sail was visible upon the

waters.
“Ay ay! Who hails?” called out Arthur
Grenvile.

“ One who would serve you ” was the r ly.
“A , ay! Come alongside,” unnamed) Ar
thur renville.”

Immediately out of the gloom was visible a
small dark object coming toward the vessel,
and an instant after a bee ranundcr the sloo ’s
lee, and a tall form nimny
bulwarks and confronted Ca
his emcers.

He was attired in the uniform of an ofﬁcer of
the Moorish piraticai navy and the battle-Ian
terns’ rays caused the jewels he were, and his
gem-hilted sword and pistols, to glitter like

sparks of ﬁre. I

Six feet in hight, broad-shouldered, «straight
as an arrow, and with long, ﬂowing beard and
hair, he was a strikin docking man, and the
. emcers and seamen of e vemel-of-wnr gene-d
upon him with a certain respect mingled With
awe. ~

rung cvrr t e
n Brainard and '

 
.
l
J

,

. g ‘4. AA... -. A..a.;...;-;-- .... 3-4... . --. -41.‘

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10

Freelance, the Buccaneer.

 
Although he had before spoken in English, he
now turned to Captain Bramard and addressed
him in French.

“One of our African hurricanes is brewing,
monsieur, and your vessel is in deadly peril.”

“ N onegknow that fact, sir, better than we do
ourselves; but how are we to remedy the evil?”

“It was for that I sou ht you.”

“May I ask whom I gave the honor of ad-
dressing?” said Captain Brainard, politel ,
struck with the appearance and manner of t 9
man before him.

“It matters not, monsieur, what my name is
—my rank is lieutenant in the Moorish navy,
and, as Mesurah Rais is wounded, I at present
command the craft you ﬁred upon this after-
noon.

“ his! a confessed corsair! This is bold in

ou.

“Call me corsair if it please you, monsieur,
but there is an old saying that Satan is not as
black as he is painted, and I came on board of
your vessel to save it from destruction,” calmly
said the strange man.

“What motive have on in so doing, when
you know that we we (1 hang you and your
crew to the yard-arm if we captured you?”

“It is catching before hanging, monsieur; ,

but my motive was humanit .”

“Humanity in a Mooris corsair!” almost
sneered Captain Brainard.

“A strange circumstance, I admit, sir; but
while we waste words, your vessel is slowly
driving ashore.”

Captain Brainard seemed in a quandary: the
man before him appeared honest in his inten-
tion of serving him, yet it was a remarkable
case for a Moor and a corsair to be guilty of an
act of humanity, and turning to Arthur Gren-
ville he asked:

“What shall we do, Arthur?”

“If he leads us into a trap, sir, it cannot
place us in a worse position than we are now,”
said Arthur Grenville, speaking, as had his com-
mander, in English, and seemingl forgetting
that their strange visitor had h ed them in
that language.

“Here gentlemen,” and the Moor spoke in
perfect English, “you will have to meet the
mad elements, and I feel assured that when the
storm strikes you it will be impossible to
beat out against it, and you will be driven

ore.

“If I lead you into a trap, as you seem to
fear, it can on 1ybe against my own crew, which
you greatly on
are men.” '

“I will trust you, sir. Where would you
car the vessel?” said Ca tain Brainard.

“ o a basin inshore w ere she can anchor in
safety, and from whence you can tow out to sea
in the morning, should you not have a land-
breeze to carry you out.”

“ And your vessel lies inshore new?”

times.” 1 .

n you 0 not expect a ed rom me
not to attack you in the morning ” 88

The Moor smiled and answer :

“You are at liberty to attack us whenever
you ﬁnd us, sir; your boats failed to discover
my vessel, although in hailin distance of her.
The wind is coming, sir, and t e storm will soon
break. Shall I take command of the sleep!”

“ Yes; but it certainly is a startlin sight to
see a Moorish corsair commanding an merican
sloop-of-war.”

In avoice that sent the men ﬂyéng to their
posts the Moor gave the order oist the
anchors, and to set what sail was needed and
calling the two oarsman from his boat along-
side to take the helm, he Went forward and
stood on the forecastle as the vemel swung
round and headed landward under the stron
pressure of the breeze that was the precursor 0

he storm.
In a voice distinctl audible to all on the
quarter-deck but in t e Moorish language, he
ave his orders to his men to rt and star-
rd the helm, as the case mig t be, and the
splendid vessel soon swe t in a narrow glorge be-
tween overhan ’ ch 3, just as the owling
hurricane struc t e shore with a force that was
terriﬁc, and hurled volumes of water high upon
the rocks.

But the sails had been uickly taken in and
furled, the anchors let fal , and all put ship-
shape to meet the wild rush of the elements, and
beneath the lee of the loft cliff the stench
vessel hardly swerved under he shock, androde
in safet at anchor.

Quic Jr, as the Moor advanced did Captain
Brainar step forward and grasp his hand.

“ I owe you the life of every man on board
Indy Vessel, sir, for We would have been swamp-
e in,an instant. I never beheld such a h’urri-
cane.

“ We were just in time, sir. In the morning,
if you wish to look up' my vessel, do not allow
the service I have rendered you to prevent.
FareWell, Ca tain Brainard,” and the mysteri-
gous pilot spo o with a strange sadness in

number, and you have arms and

your noble services, sir.”

“In no wagezhatever. Good- , Lieutenant l in earnest.
Grenville.

tlemen, good-nig t,” and the

 
ml

I‘iegtayl Yon must in some way let me return ' hurled themselves

Moor a ain turned to depart, but Captain
Brainar ste ped forward.

“ One wor , sir. You are not a Moor?”

“ I am an unfortunate outcast in the Moorish
service,” and the pilot sprung over the side into
the waiting boat and was quickly rowed away
while behind him he left many hearts that beat
in sympathy for his misfortunes.

A re id row of half‘a dozen cable-leg-Fths and
the litt e boat which was tossed wil y about
upon the rough waters of the little basin turned
into a narrow ssageway, a gorge in the cliﬂ,

 
hardl thirty eetin width.

A d’czen legicfths of the boat they came to
what appear to be a rocky wall; but the cars-
men dro ped their ears and the apparent wall
was easi y raised, for it was on]; a canvas cur-
tain hung between the cliffs, an presenting the
apﬁearance at a short distance, even in day-
hg , of being solid rock.

Just within this curtained recess lay the cor-
sair vessel, her stern crowded with cannon that
commanded the entrance.

“ When the hurricane blows over I will put to
sea,” said the Moor to one of his oﬂicers, as he
stei§ed on the deck of his vessel.

‘ es, oh Rais,” replied the oﬂicer, with re-
spgct, while his superior passed on into the
ca 1n.

There a scene of wondrous m 'ﬁcence met ;
the eye, for the cabin was light by swinging :
silver lamps, and around in profusion were - ;
urious ottomans and divans, while velvet rugs
covered the ﬂoor. i

Paintings of the rarest kinds, jewel-studded _
weapons, and innumerable costly trinkets lined ;
the cabin walls, and upon the cabin table were 
vases of gold and a tea-service of solid silver.

But none of these did the Moor notice, as with 
clouded brow and set lips he paced the ﬂoor, ,
kicking aside the velvet cushions that obstruct- ;
ed his way. 

|
|

“ How different are our fates! Arthur an
honored ofﬁcer in theservice of his countr —I,
a Moor—faithless to my land, my race an my
creed—a wretched outcast—a corsair! Oh,
God of the Christian and. Allah of the Ma-
homedan, have mercy u 11 me I”

With a roan of anguish, wrung from his in- 5
most hear , he sunk down upon a silken divan
and buried his face in his hands.

For hours he never moved and one would
have believed him dead, so statue—like he up

. ared; then the voice of an oﬂicer aroused

“ Ah, Rais, the hurricane has gone by.”

Quickly he sprung to his feet and ascended to
the deck, where he gave orders to draw out of
the rocky ier, and stand out to sea.

Half an our after the watch on board the
American sloop-of-war startled all on deck with
the c : ‘

“ Arsphantom ship! a phantom ship!”

“Silence, you id otl i is the Moorish corsair
standing out to sea.”

It was Arthur Grenville who spoke, for he
was ofﬁcer of the deck, and, as a junior lieuten-
ant excitedly called the men toquarters, be con-
tinued, in stern tones:

“ Hold! That craft goes free, for I shall give
no order to ﬁre 11 n it!”

The men shru back, and the Moor swept on

t the American, not two cable-len the dis-
nt and stood out into the rough and ark wa-
ters beyond. ‘

 
CHAPTER XI.
ran coasma’s camvn.

A SEA-CHASE at night! With the stron wind
sendin the vessel nimbl along, and the right
ﬂash 0% the stern guns 0 the pursued, followed
by the deep boom and whiz of shot, answered
bar the red glare of the bow-guns of the pursuer,.
t eir basso rear, and the crashing of timbers
and shrieks of anguish, as the iron messengers
tore throu h the wood and ﬂesh.

Fast ﬂ the ursued faster came the (pnrsuer,
until but a -mile ivided them, an it was
evident that the roar of cannon must ere long
be followed by the rattle of small-arms an
clash of steel, when the boarders were called
11 n to spring-upon their prey.

e leading vessel was a large craft, a ood
sailer, nd possessing a fair armament and Erge
crew; t upon her wake hung an ocean blood-
hound—a corsair, low in hull, sending clouds of
white canvas above her decks gaunt, rapid,
merciless, and with a crew of fiends incarnate
once they .

Anxious faces were upon the leading vessel,
and hands nervously clutched their weapons.

Ea r faces Were upon the corsair, and hands
mesa; red with blood, ﬁrml held their wea-
pons, be ing soon to drive t em home in the
con '0 .

Nearer and nearer crept the bound of the sea
upon its prey, until the sha nose of the cor-
sair hun over the stem 0 the other vessel,
which st 1 held on its way.

Then the long bowsprit grated against the
taﬂrail of the ﬂying craft, and into the dense
crOwd formed to repel boarders the corsaiis
the two vessels were lashed
together, and the haud-to-hand ﬁght had begun

 
Braver did the assailed strike back at their

:—_—‘.

assailants, and desperately did they stru gle to»
save their vessel, and scores fell upon bot sides;
but they fought a crew of devils in human shape
that knew not defeat. and ere long the combat
turned into butche , until the defeated crew.
ﬂed in terror below ecks.

Then the bloodzdrunk crew dispersed to take
possession of their dearly-won prize, and yells
of delight went up from hoarse threats, as the,
cry arose that they had captured aPersian trm ll

sure—ship—nay, more,.there was a Princess of .
Persia on board, a maiden of seventeen, brand-:1

ful beyond a mortal’s dream of beauty, u ho,
with her retinue was en route to Constantinople,
where she was to become the bride of the sul--
tan’s favorite son.

Her courtiers, maids-in—waiting, slaves, with
princely presents of gold, silver and'precious
stones, were all on board, and had fallen a prize
to the cruel monster, Mesurah Rais, the Moorish
corsair.

Frenzied with delight at the wealth he had.
won, and intoxicated b the beauty of Zuluh
the princess, Mesurah  dragged her from~
the cabin, and reared her in his blood-stained.
arms to bear her to his own vessel.

In piteous cries the maiden appealed for aid'.
from those around her, and—it came!

A Moorish oﬁicer suddenly confronted his.
chief, a drawn cimeter in his hand.

“ Release that lady, Rais, or, by Allah, I will
cut you down!” ,

There was a ring in the words that was in-
tensely in earnest, and a ﬂash in the burning
eyes that knew no fear, and Mesurah Rais
halted suddenly, glanced around him amid a
silence like dea h, and then cried in trumpet.

nes:

“ Hurl that dog into the sea 1”

But not a man moved to obe , and wild with
fury, MesurahRa’is drop ed t e maiden from
his arms, drew his bl stained cimeter and
sprung upon the man before him with the cry
such as a wounded tiger might give.

But his weapon was met with steel as true as
his own, and instantly a desperate combat was
begun, Moors and Persians alike gathering,
around and gazing u n the dread scene.

Short, terrible an deadly was the battle, and
then Mesurah Rais fell dead upon his deck, cut.
down b the cimeter of his Bash Soto Rois.

Yet t e battle was not ended here, for there
were red ﬁends on board who sprung forward
to avenge their captain, and others who sided
with their lieutenant, and at once the decks of
the Persian vessel became
perate strug le for life and death.

But, urg on b
weaker partmon he deck, and the followers
of Mesurah is cried lustin to their comrades.
for mercy. Launcelot Grenville was victor!

Crouched down by the bulwarks, surrounded

' by a few of her followers, Zulah the princess

had been a horriﬁed witness of the whole wild
scene; but what would be the result to her she
could not tell, for mi ht not the lieutenant have
slain his chief that 9 might himself gain the

prize?

Still, as Launcelot Grenville ap reached her
she did not recoil from him, as s 9 had done
from Mesurah Rais.

“ lady, your vessel is sinking, and I must re-
move you and our treasure to my decks; other—
wise you mig t go on your way, as I W111 not
war against a woman.” 4

W1 a cry of joy the princess seized the hand
of the Rais and covered it with kisses, while she
thanked him over and over again in. ardent
tones, and accompanied him most Willineg to
the cabin of the corsair vessel. .

Making her comfortable, and seeing that her
attendants were around her, Launcelot Gren-
ville ascended to the deck, and the treasure was
quickly transferred to his own craft and not a
moment too soon, as the shot-torn ersmn ves—
sel went down as soon as cut loose from the cor—

sair.

It was the intention of the self-appointed Rais
to carry the princess in safety bac to her port
of departure again and set sail for that pur-
pose; but severe storms blew the corsair far

rem her course, an? it was weeks Referee an op-
rtuni offered 0 carrying out is n ntion,
33d thefiyan obstacle arose in the we that nei-
ther himself nor Zulah  to set aside, for his
interest in the beautiful girl had deepened into
love, while, from the moment she became his
captive, her heart went out to the handsome
Rais, and she idolized him with all the abandon
of her nature.

She had been destined fer the bride of an-
other, a man she had never seen, and. with the
fatalist ideas of the Eastern races, had submit-
ted to her destin without a word. ‘

But now her eart was not her own, and it,
was no wonder that she begged earnestlgy not to
be given up to another, nor is it stran e hat the
Rate yield for he saw in the love 0 the bean-
tiful girl at east an atom of joy for him in the
future and he had been so drifting upon break-
ers in the past that he longed to seek a haven of
rest, with one fond heart to love him.

Quickl was his determination taken. The
old Persiin priest should rform the ceremony
that would make Zulah h bride; her followers
he would restore to their nativo land, and then,

again a scene of des- ,

their gallant leader, thci:

 
Freelance, the Buccaneer.

 
11

 
with his beautiful bride, he would seek a home
in the Amazer hills with his friends, the moun-
tain prince an Maud, where he would endeavor
to forget the past and its bitter memories.
Mats, L’homme propose, et Dieu dispose.

 
CHAPTER XII.
TRACKED BY FATE.

IN the same mountain home which the reader
has before visited, some months after the cap-
ture of the Persian vessel b Mesurah Rais, sat
three persons, all of whom have before figured
in the scenes of this story.

Two of them were females, one of them Maud
Menken that was, but now the Queen of the
Amazer , as she was called, and the other was
Zulah, t e princess now the wife of Launcelot
Grenville, who sat by her side, and upon whose
face a look of contentment seemed at last to
have fallen.

True to his word, Launcelot Grenville had
sailed to Jada, the port of entry to Jerusalem,
and from thence sent the attendants of Zulah
by caravan back to I han, Persia, the princess
writing a. letter to her father, the shah, giving
an account of her capture, and her present

happiness, and her husband sending to his,

'ro a1 father-in-law numerous costly presents
its en from the priceless stores of Mesurah Rais.

Launcelot also sent the shah the value of the
ship he had captured, in gold but kept the
dowry of his bride as it would be an insult to
return that princel treasure which went as
part and parcel of t e princess.

But two of Zulah’s attendants, a hu Abys-
sinian slave, almost a giant, and her 0 d nurse,
refused to return to Persia, and both Launcelot
and his lovely wife willingly consented that
th should remain with them.

giving bid farewell to the Persians, the Rais
set sail for the Morocco stronghold, and running
in at night, dropped anchor and started at once
for the retreat in the Amazerg hills, where he
ho to make his home.

veral da s after the arrival of the corsair
vessel in po , El Rais Aboukah received a com-
mand from the Sidi to come at once to Mequi-
nez to present himself before him.

With reluctance he obeyed for heads rolled
03 too easilﬂin those days in Morocco, for him
to care to p ce hisin danger of the Sidi’s angry
arm, and he expected that he had in some way
learned that Maud was kept from the imperial
harem to become his wife.

But a refusal to obey the summons would

have been Open revolt, so E1 Rais Aboukah
went to Mequinez, thou h he took the precau-
tion to go attended by a t ousand of his horse-
mtin, under the pretense of doing honor to his
ru er.

For days he was absent, and Maud, who now
loved her liege lord devotedly, was becoming
most anxious regarding him, when he was
descried riding slowly up the hill toward the
house. .

He eeted his wife affectionately, and
Launce ot and his bride most kindly, though all
noticed that he wore a troubled loo .

After refreshments had been served, the
iAmazerg chief said, quietly, addressing Inunce—

0t:

“ Rais, I regret to say there is trouble and
danger ahead for you, as the Sidi knows of
our capture of the Persian vessel, and taking

the Princess Zulah for your own rize.”

“ Does he know that we are wit you?” calm]
asked Launcelot, while both Maud and Zulah
turned pale. .

“ No, he is aware that you landed, for if you
remember, Mesurah Rais, when sent to take
command in my stead, brought With him from
Mequinez~ some of the crew of his old ship, and
therefore all you had under you were not Ama-

Moors. .

‘ hose men of M uinez deserted the vessel
it seems, the night entered the port, and
made known to the Sidi, for they wentto the
capital, all that ‘you had done, and he sent for
me immediately.

“ And you have orders concerning me?”

“ Yes; the Sidi ordered that I send you at
once under guard to Mequinez, and your wife is
to accompany you."

“ And your answer?” asked Launcelot, care-

less] .

“ 8f course I told him that I would do so, and
I must keep my word to the Sidi or there will
be war between us, and tho can k his
troops at be in my mountains, I do not w a
stru gle wit him. ’

“ ooukah I”
It was Maud that spoke, and she looked re-

ﬁroachfully at her husband, while Zulah became

vid with fear. _
As for Launcelot, he smiled gglamly, and said:
' “ You know your duty best, is.

“ Yes, and I must does I am told,_yet I seeno
reason wh you should reach Mequmer, even if
you start or there.”

“ Ah I” said Launcelot, while both Maud and
Zulah gave a sigh of relief. .

“ There is a rig,” continued El Rais “ lyin
in my harbor, that was captured by esuraﬁ

Rain some time ago, and, as she is English built,
and a stench and fast little craft, the Sidi

 
wishes it for his own use, and ordered me to send
it at once to him.

“ I suggested that it would be a good way to
send the prisoners, meaning yourselves, and he
agreed with me, and I was to place you under
arrest, wherever I found you, and dispatch you
at once to the M uinez harbor.

“ This will be e only way I can save you,
for you would be beheaded, Rails, ten minutes

after our arrival in M uinez, and What
would ome of the Princess ulah, Allah only
knows.”

“ It will be taking) (1 rate chances to at-
tempt to seize the rig rom her crew,” said
Launcelot. ,

“No, for I will take care to send a. crew
formed from galley slaves, and a few men whom
you can trust and whom I will instructas to
thﬁihiiﬁmes' in i th b .

‘ en you are possession o e rig, you
can land my men on the coast, and then head
for any point you may wish to go, and if the
brig does not reach the harbor of the Sidi, and
his risoners escape, it is not my fault.”

“8E1 Rais, you are a noble man, and I thank

you.

“I had hoped to dwell near you for the re-
mainder of in days, but there seems no rest for
me, and I have to seek another land. So
be it! When shall we start?”

“As soon as the brig can be made read '. I
have already sent word to the Rais o the
stron hold to have it in readiness, for I deter-
min upon that as the only course to take to
save on, and though I hate to part with you, I
feel t t it cannot be otherwise. ’

Until a late hour in the ni ht the four friends
talked over their partin an plans for the fu-
ture, and after sunset 0 the following day they
started for the harbor of the stronghold, a

rd around the gisoners for to carry out the
area of obeyin t Sidi, E’i Rais Aboukah held
Launcelot and ' wife as captives.

In the pleasant little cabin of the trim bri
sad farewells were spoken, and the ﬂeet vesse
was soon (1 in seaward under command of a
ﬁoaung Bus to Rat's, a cousin of the Rais e1

is of the Amazerﬁs.

Shortly after mi night Launcelot Grenville
went on deck, and along the sides, un-
locking quietly the chains that bound the galley
slaves to the swee , which the men were using,
as there was ver ittle wind. .

Instantly a s ort struggle followed on the
deck; there were a few shots, clashing of steel,
shouts of the combatants, and the brig was in
the possession of Launcelot Grenville, while the
yo Soto Rais was a prisoner, yet, bein in
the p ot, was not anxious re rding his ate,
and those onl of the crew w 0 could not be
trusted with t 9 secret, had fallen in the struggle
for mastery.

Placing those that had been slaves, and who
were mostly Europeans in charge of the brig,
and assumm command Launce 0t headed for
the coast of orocco, still using the swee for
all Moorish and Algerine corsairs at thatmtime
always rigged heavy oars upon their vessels, to
use in case of calms, or to aid in chase or ﬂight,
while, at the same time, it gave employment to
the captives.

Upon a lonely part of the coast the Soto Rois
and all others of the crew, excetpting the Euro-

were put on shore, and e. brig headed
seaward, it being the intention of Launcelot to
return once more to Mexico, and offer his vessel
and services to that country.

But, hardly had the land of Morocco been
dropped from sight astern, when a large sail
was si hted, which, at a. glance, Launcelot
Grenv' le recognized as one of the swiftest
Moorish corsairs aﬂoat, and under command of
a devil in human form, and one in high favor
with the Sidi.

To 11 from the corsair, swift as was the bri ,
would useless, and to fight him would
madness, as Launcelot did not have more than
thirty men, all told, and-but six small guns.

He therefore had but one course to pursue.
and that was to boldly keep on his course, await
until the corsair came up and hailed him, and
then tell him that he had been laced in com-
mand of the brig by El Rain, an was going on
a mission that was secret.

. The commander of the corsair he had several
times met, when a lieutenant under Mesurah
Rais, and be trusted to his presence of mind to
get him out of the scrape, and instructed his
crew to say that they knew nothing of where
they were going.

In the meant me, the corsair vessel was run-
nin down upon theb with all sail set and
wit half an hour the ate of Launcelot Gren-
ville and his bride would be decided.

CHAPTER XIII.
m m JAWS or DEATH.
UNDER easy canvas the brig stood on her way
while the crew, lately released from a long an
cruel bon’da amongI the Moors were white
with dread, wring t t they would be ed
back to Morocco and put to death for their mu-

tin .
Pacing the deck, Launcelot Grenville was
rfectly calm, and his face showed no sign of
Sliced at the ordeal he must soon pass through,

 
while in the cabin sat poor Zulnli and her old
nurse, their countenances the picture of woe.
for they trembled for the result.

Nearer and nearer came the corsair, until up
to the peaks of his lateen sails went the Mm r»
ish ensign and black ﬂag, while a gun was ﬁrm
across the brig’s bow.

Instantly Launcelot had the ﬂag of Moreeco.
run up to the peak and the black ﬂag with i: <:
red Cimeter raised to the fore top, while he
brought his vessel to and uietly awaited fur-
ther action on the part of t e Moor.

That the corsair was rised at the colors
shown on the brig was evi cut, as had he been,
also, that the English-built craft made no effort
to esca from him, or to change her course.

The g at the fore he recognized as the ﬂeet
ensign of the Rais e1 Rais, and he accordingly
saluted and signiﬁed by signal that he would
come on

This Launcelot regretted, as he had hoped to
be called on board the corsair, and thereby pre
vent curious eyes from discovering that his
crew was not composed of Moors; but having
determined to brave it out, he made prepar-
ations to receive the corsair as became his rank,
and one in favor with the Sidi.

Rais El Selik soon boarded the brig and was
met at the gan way by Launcelot, who con-
ducted him to t e cabin, the Moor glancing
suspiciously at the small crew of the fugitive
vessel.

Placing before his visitor some of the red
wine of Morocco. and a hookah of perfumed
tobacco, with fruits and refreshments of a. more
solid nature, Launcelot bade him welcome as
one of the favorite captains of his Sidi.

El Selik drank much, and ate with consider-
able gusto, still he seemed preoccupied, and at
last asked:

“Where bound, lieutenant of the great Rois
el Rais?”

“ I am on secret service, oh skimmer of the
seas ” was the calm reply.

“There is no service so secret, but that the
favored Rais of the Sidi, to whom Allah give
many years, can know,” was the pompous re-

sponse.

“ Let him seek of the t chief of sea and
land, the Rais e1 Rais, w at service he has sent
his servant upon,” said Launcelot.

“ Your crew are Christian do ,” was the
next remark of the suspicious El .lik.

“The Rais speaks true; they are Christian
dogs,” was the cautious answer.

“ Where are the Moors, the true believers,
that the Bash Soto Rais goes to sea with hounds
of an accursed race to man his ship?”

“Let the favorite of the mighty Sidi, whom
Allah preserve, ask that question also of the
Ca tain of Captains, and not of his servant.”

t was evident that E1 Selik ted treach-
ery of some kind, and he looked Launcelot
straight in the e es, but the look was fearlessly
returned, and t e favorite of the Sidi was in
more dan r than be imagined for his host had
suddenly etermined upon a plan should he not
be permitted to go on his way unmolested.

‘ Ihave him in my power and he shall be-
come a hostage,” thought Launcelot; but his
facedshowed no sign of what was passing in his
min . ~

Suddenly El Selik gave a start—his eyes had
rested upon the beautiful face of Zulah, peering
anxious v into the cabin.

“The Soto Rais has a fair captive; is she to

to the harem of his mighty Sidi, whom Al-

ah bless?”

Iauncelot though he had not seen Zulah,
knew that El Selik had caught a glimpse of her,
and he said, calmly:

“ The captive is a rincess of Persia. She
Was captured in the editerranean some time
ago 1133* Mcsurah Rais, my on tain, and the
Rais 1 Selik, being a favoriteo his Sidi, whom
Allah reserve, I will tell him that I bear the
beaut' ul Lady Zulah to her home.”

“ If the Soto Rais was a Moor I would be-
lieve his words, for the Shah ‘of Persia mould
pay a great ransom for the return of his daugh-

cr' but I will have to carry this vessel back
wit me to Mequinez, and see if thy words are
true.” ’

Launcelot made no immediate rep] , and his
face did not change color, or a muse e quiver,
as the Rais looked him searchineg in the face.

“ After an instant’s ause Lancelot said:

“ 'fhelﬁais will not 0 this, assuredly?”

H w' .

H ' e a . n

“ gguiagger the great chief, Rais elRais.

“Then upon your head be it.”

“ Upon my head be it.”

Seem that El Selik was decided, Launcelot
looked own to grasp his pistol and make him
aprisoner, when his eye fell upon .the signet—
ring of the Rais e1 Rais—the one he had given
him ears before, when chased by the Hornet
and glish sloop-of-war, and which he had
kept throu h his years of slavery to an Arab
master, hi ing it among his rags.

Now the diamond’s glitter caught his 9 e,
and drawing it from his ﬁnger he said, calm y,
as he handed it to Ei Sclik:

“ Would I be intrusted with this, were I not a
true Moor?”

.-£-..M-u_- -< '.

"—P. .ca..x- .

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12

mat—L-.. m. ..

,F, ., - .~.,W~w rum-’wrvu- un’m-N.’ ' a" y» --

Freelance, the Buccaneer.

 
E] Selik glanced at the ring, read the inscrip-
tion, and handed it back, saying, in a tone of

respect:

‘ I honor the pledge of the Red Rais. The
we of Allah are strange indeed.”

he dark, somber eyes of Launcelot Grenville

ﬂashed, yet he spoke not a word and El Selik
arose to go, now fully convince that he had
made a grave mistake in suspecting the Soto
Rais of treache .

As the two le t ‘the cabin one of those incon-
ruities of human nature, a man who would sell
is soul and his kindred for gold, a dark-skinned

Spaniard, said a few words to El Selik in a low

tone.

Instantl the Rate turned upon Launcelot;
but he ha also heard the words of the treacher-
ous seamen, and his pistol-muzzle touched the
heart of El Selik.

“Not one word, Moor, and return into the
cabin, or I will kill you, by Allah l”

The Moor saw his danger, and, a dear lover of
life, he slunk back into the cabin, while Launce-
lot callin to an ofﬁcer to secure the traitor,
fol owed c ose uron the prisoner‘s heels.

“That man’s words have betrayed me; but
Rais, if you value your life you will do what I
say,” and the voice of Launcelot Grenville was
dee and stem. and the pistol pointed directly
gt t e head of El Selik, who had turned a livid

us.

“ of a Christian, you shall suffer for this, ”
growl the Moor, savagely.

“You are in no condition to make threats,

Rats El Selik, and I am the one to dictate terms.

“ From here to the Azore Islands is just ten
es, and I will stand on and land you there
at t. Michael’s, where on can order your ves-
sel to come on the day a ter to-morrow, for you
a easily run out to meet her in a ﬁsherman’s
t.
“Beard of m dfatherl would you it
on me?” elled 1 SP
“Iwil kill you if you do not do as I wish.
Hold] raise your voice above an ordinary tone,
and I will shoot you through the heart.”
“ I will call my Moore to come to my aid,”
boldl said El Selik, but he kept his eye on the

piste .

“ They will ﬁnd you a dead man, and before
I would go back to
would blow this brig and all in it to atoms.
tell you, Rais, you are standing on a magazine,
so send word to your Bash Soto Rais that (you
are going in this vessel to the Azores an to
come there for on.”

“ He will bel eve there is treache ,” said El-
b‘elik' willing to yield to the deman of his cap-
tor if he cou d thereby save his life.

“Send the ring you wear. I will summon
one of your boat’s crew to you here; but he
shall die, and you, too if you give a hint that
you are a prisoner. Quick! what is your de-

“ By Allah! I have to obey,” meekly said the ,
‘ with fear, they would obey no command; the

cor.

“ Zulah i”

gt being called the young wife entered the
ca m.

“Send your Abyssinian slave, and two men
to me here.”

Zulah left the cabin, and in a moment there-
after the giant negro and two seamen entered.

“Men, take l{your stands just behind onder

and ' I give you a signal, this
man.”

“A , a ,sir ” said the men, one of whom
was to and the other Irish.

Turning to the slave. Launcelot said:

“ Go to the boat alongside and bid the ofﬁcer
in charge to come to the cabin; the Rais would

With him; and mind ou, slave, stand be-
hind the one you lead hit er, and if the Rais
makes any sign to him, drive your knife to his
heart.”

The slave bent low in respectful salutation
and left the cabin, while the two seamen, arm
with istols, took their stand behind a curtain
that d vided of! a state-room from the cabin.

“Rats El Selik, you see I am master here.
Simplvgive our orders to your officer, to meet
you 03 t. chael’s the second night from this.”

The Rais gritted his teeth savagely, but
though a monster to those in his power, e was
an errant coward at heart, and, though swear-
ing vengeance inst Launcelot Grenville, felt
his inability to then'do other than obey.

The next moment a heavy step was heard,
and the Abyssinian entered with a handsome
ycioung Moor, an under officer of the corsair ves-

so

He saluted his Rais politely, and then Launce-
lot, after whii-h he stood in silence awaiting for
his commander to speak.

It was a moment of intense ril to all on
board the brig; hut Launcelot rcnville’s face
was perfectly serene, yet there was an expres-
sion it held, which El Selik understood, and he

said hoarsely:

“ ’Veldak, an my Bash Soto Rais to come to
the Azores after me.”

The Rais hesitated. and the young Moor looked
surprised: but catching the eye of Launcelot
Grenville, El Selik continued:

“I will be OK St. Michael’s the second night
m this; await me there.”

Morocco as a prisoner, I ,
I ‘ the equinoctial gale, and t e hearings were at

 
Thc ofﬁcer bowed and started to retire, when
Launcelot Grenville, in a perfectl
manner, ﬁlled a silver goblet wit wine and
handed it to him, and wished him pleasantly
much joy in life.

Unconscious of the danger he was in the
young Moor left the cabin and El Selik was
alone with his ca tor, who coolly invited him to
come on deck wit him.

There was nothin for the Rais but to obey,
and he witnessed t e brig get under way and
head for the Azores, while his own vessel stood
off on another tack, as it was not to be at the
1iippointed rendezvous for nearly forty-eight

ours.

Although he had most clever] escaped a ca
ture which would have resx ted in certain
death, Launcelot Grenville was determined to
make an example of the seaman who had proven
traitor, believing that he could thereby win a
name and old for himself among the Moors,
who had he d him in slavery for long years.

As soon as a few leagues separated the bri
from the corsair vessel, Launcelot Grenville ha
the prisoner brought before him, ordered an
execution of six men, and the wretch was
com lied suffer the fate that his companions
31(1) (1 have met, hadhistreachery been success-

With a perfect contempt for his cruel prison-
er, and a yearning to rid the sea of such a mon-
ster, Launcelot Grenville found it hard to resist
visiting upon El Selik the same fate meted out
to the raltor S niard: but he had given his
word to release im at the Azores, and shortly
after darkness settled upon the sea, the brig ran
in and landed the Rais on the coast, a league
from the town, and then once more stood out in-
to blue waters to dare danger and destiny.

CHAPTER XIV.
'rmi: TREASURE ISLE.

Ir was a fearful ni ht of storm, and the
waves of the Mexican ulf ran mountain-high,
and the waters were lashed into foam until they
looked like billows of snow.

The clouds trailed low, and were inky-black,
and only the phosphorescent glare of the sea
gave li t enough or the human eye to discern
a vesse struggling for life in that mad scene.

For days t 0 storm had revailcd, for it was

fault, and none on board the little craft knew
exactly how far from the land they were, and
the commander had just given orders to la the
vessel to, when it was raised upon a m ghty
wave, and hurled with terriﬁc force upon a

rocky reef.

Instant the wildest confusion followed the
crash, an the fri htened seamen be an to cut
away the life-boa s, for they dreade that the
vessel would 5? to pieces and they be ingulfed
with the wre .

In vain did their commander ur e them

against the course they were taking, or, wild

boats were filled with the panic-stricken crew,
and a hu e wave sweeping the decks, they-were
carried 0 on its bosom—to death.

To death, yes, for there were breakers to the
lee of the rocks upon which the vessel lay, and
the two boats, crowded with human freight,
were dashed to pieces in the twinkling of an
e e; the shrieks of the drowning men arose
above the bowling of the wind, and roar of the
seal and were heard by the few who yet re-
mained upon the fated craft.

And upon that vessel what a scene! Driven
high upon the rocks, the masts had come crash-
ing down when she struck, and the seas beat
against the hull with a force that threatened to
tear it into atoms with each coming watery
avalanche. .

Upon the deck, crouching down behind the
stum of the mainmast, was a huge form, which
a has of lightning showed to be a negro calm,
courageous, and et clin 'ng for his 1' e—the
only person visib e upon t e wreck.

From the cabin a faint light streamed, and
within were three human beings, nay, four, for
one lay there dead.

Over that dead form a man bent in the bitter
a’ any of grief, and his e es looked down upon
the beaut ul, upturned ace, that gave back no
glance of love.

In a corner of the cabin, crouching down
among a pile of cushions, sat an elderly woman,
hugging to her breast a little bundle that con-
tained a wee infant—a baby boy that had been
ushered into the world amid that scene of wreck
and death, and whose mother had given to him
her life.

It was a sad, a pitiable scene, and the strOn
man who bent over his dead wife cared no
how soon it would end in death for im and in
his heart he cursed the stench hull that still
withstood the shocks of the waves.

And thus, through the long hours of that
fearful right, the group in the cabin remained
unchan , and the giant negro on deck clung
to the s uttered mast.

But the ion , dreariest ni ht has an end-
ing; at last t e gray dawn fe upon the sea:
the windsvditxl away, and the waves ran less

hi h.
€Vith the rising sun the grief-stricken man

l

composed i

came upon deck, and in his haggard, white, sor-
row-lined face it was hard to recognize the
handsome Launcelot Grenville.

Yet it was none other than that waif of mi?
fortune whom Fate dogged so cruelly.

With a swec ing glance he took in the scene
—the hull, stil stunch, high on a reef, and half
a mile distant from a small island, nearly bar-
ren of verdure.

No other land was in sight, and desolation
was upon all around, and the prospect looked
dreary indeed.

But Launcelot Grenville was no man to yield
to despair when there were other lives de-
pendent upon him, and he quickly looked
around for means of succor.

Forward, swept into the forecastle, the brig’s
cutter still remained, and fortunately was not
damaged, and below decks there were spars,
sails and oaxshand the island, Launcelot knew,
was near the exican coast.

Had he been alone it is doubtful if he would
have made an effort to save himSelf ; but there
was a young Its in the cabin that he must live
for, now that the mother had one; the faithful
nurse and Abyssinian slave served their
mistress well; it was his dut to aid them in
their danger and distress. e at once set to
work, and with the assistance of the huge black,
soon had the cutter rigged, and bringing the
(lead form from the calin, he placed it in the
boat and steered for the shore.

In a group of stunted trees a sheltered nook
a grave was du and the body of Zulah placed
therein, Launc ot Grenville ﬁllm the grave
with a hard stern look upon h face that
showed how he was burying from sight more
than his life. ‘

Having attended to this sad duty, the sorrow-
ing man, still accompanied by the faithful slave,
cx ilored the island, and in the interior, among
a cap of rocks. found a lar e cave, and here
the vast treasure on board the ri was brought
and also the stores, and secure y hidden, a
left under the charge of the Abyssinian, who
readin accepted the task imposed upon him.

Then Launcelot Grenville returned on board
the wreck, and taking the nuise and tin infant
into his boat, Set sail from the island, ending
toward the nearest point of the mainland of
Mexico, where he knew he could ﬁnd a settle-
mcn .

A night’s sail and the little cutter put into a
small coast town, and the nurse and infant were
at once well cared for, while Launcolot Gren-
vdle, restless, wretched, and seeking stirring

 
action to drown his sorrows, dc arted for Vera
Cruz, and from thence to the ity of Mexico,
where he reported to the Government the loss
of his schooner, b being run down in the Gulf
by the Reindeer, our years before, and his es-
cape, capture by the Moors, and long captivity
as aslave to an Arab sheik.

His ﬁnal escape from Morocco and return to
Mexico he also made known, but his more per-
sonal affairs—his having been a corsair, nzar-
tinge, and the loss of the brig, he did not make
known.

I The magnates of the Government were de-
lighted to welcome him back, for he had been a
gallant ofﬁcer in their service, and having no
7‘. ssel then to give him, the made him the
commander of a regiment of ncers.

_But as a calcinel in the army, Launcelot Gren—
Ville found not the ﬁeld for excitement the sea
presented, and he begged to be allowed to com-
mand a privatecr once more; so he was placed
on board ' a slow going, lubberly brigantine,
poorly armed, yet with a ood crew, and told
to capture a better vessel if e wanted one.

“ I will.” was his grim rep] to the Mexican
Junta, and he put to see, an his order to his
helmsman proved that he would keep his in 0rd,
for he said sternly:

“Stand or Barrataria—the rendezvous of the
Gulf buccaneers.” _

CHAPTER XV.
run BITEB annex.

“ SAIL ho !”

From the mast-head of a slow-sailing hrigan-
tine the cry rung out, and an ofﬁcer pring to
and fro glanced quickly around the horizon, and
soon settled his glass upon a sail just visible to a
keen e 'e.

Wit a strong wind blowing it was not long
before the raking topsails of a schooner arose in
view, followed_soon after by a huge fore and
mainsail, hovering over a long hull, low in the
water, and show mg unmistakable signs of being
an armed deck.

“ Senor Miguel, if I am not mistaken, yonder
vessel Will revent our running on to Barra-
taria,” and aptain Launcelot Grenville, in the
full uniform of a Mexican naval commander,
turned to his ﬁrst lieutenant, a handsome, dash—
ing young fellow.

“He is heavier th’n we are, and doubtless
carries more men, and it would be as well to run
for it,” said Alvez Miguel, regarding the vessel
attentively. '

“You misunderstand me, senor; we will cep-
ture her, and thereby save a run ,to the buc-
caneﬁr rendezvous,” said Captain Grenville,
quie y.

The lieutenant looked surprised, and again

 
A}

 
3)

_several of the crew

Freelance, the Buccaneer.

1?

 
turned his glass upon the schooner, and said, af-
ter awhile:

“My captain, yonder craft carries two guns
to our one, and has fully double the number of
the brigantine’s crew; it would be madnem to
fight him.”

“ I think not; that he is a buccaneer I feel
convinced and perhaps Laﬁtte’s own vemel.‘ If
S'l I will be glad; but if not the pirate chief’s
own craft, it is one of his ﬂeet, and a beauty.
Let the brigantine fall 03, helmsman: Steady!
New, "Senor Miguel, set all the sail she can
carry.

The brigantine’s change of course placed the
schcliouer astern, and the lieutenant said pleas-
ant v:

“ on have determined to run for it, then,
captgiu ’Grenville?”

“ And the schooner is squaring away to give
chase, and if her looks do not behe her, can sail
three feet to our one.” .

“ So much the better; we have a fair wind, 9.

00d start, and we will try the schooner at all
ﬁer sailing ints. Set the American colors,
Senor Migue , and then have the crew hide our

guns under taﬂiaulins.”

The young exican seemed surprised at the
manner of his commander, but promptly obeyed
his orders, and seven of the nine ns carried
by the bri antine were soon concea ed by slant-
ing  tacked from the bulwark rail to
the doc . r

“ Now send all but twenty of the men below,
Senor Mi e1.”

This 0 er was also at once obeyed, and the
brigantine, With only two guns visible, and a
few men, premnted the appearance of a mer-
chant craftncarrying a couple of cannon, and a
crew of fair Size, for e‘sirotection, for in those
days vessels went arm against the buccaneers
that roved the Gulf and its shores.

“Now, Senor Miguel, we will disguise our—
selves,” said Captain Grenville, and entering the
cabin he soon returned with a citizen’s coat over
his uniformf-Alvez Miguel and the other ofﬁcers
following his example.

“If that .18 a_buccaneer, and I believe he is,
senor, our disguise Will not aid for those fel-
lows search a vessel from keel to eck,” said the
lieu'enant. .

Captain Gl'enVﬂle made no reply, but turned
his gaze upon the schooner, which was coming
on before the Wind, her huge sails thrown win -
and-wing, and running at a tremendous speed,

which threatened to overhaul the brigantine be-
,fore nightfall. . .

“ She sails hire a witch before the wind.
We’ll try her With the breeze over her stem-

uarter,’said Captain Grenville, and he gave
1; a order to chan e the brigantine’s course,
which was at once one.

For half an heur the bﬁﬁntine held on, run-
ning at her best pace, but t e schooner seemed
to gain even more rapidly, and the Mexican
crew knew that escape was impossible, for,
though night was com' on, it would be bright
starlight, and there wo d be no hope of eluding
the keen eyes of those on their path, even in
darkness.

As the schooner drew nearer it could be seen
that she carried a crew of fully a hundred men,
and that she was a buccaneer was evident as
the red caps of the crew were visible above the
bulwarks.

“She has six guns  a broadside, and three
pivots, senor,” said Lieutenant Miguel, closely
examining the schooner.

“Yes, he is well armed and manned. I am

lad night will come before he ets near enough
a) examine us more closely. at there goes big
tin —-Carthagenianl” and as Captain Grenville
spoﬁre the colors of Carthagena were unfurled,
to be immediately lowered and another ﬂag
sent up in their place, which, when shaken out,
displayed a blue ﬁeld, in the center of which
was a ' of red crossed swords. _

As t e ﬂag ﬂuttered out in the wmd a pad of
smoke burst from the schooner’s bows, and an
iron messenger came ﬂying after the brigan-
tine.

“ It is one of Laﬁtte’s ﬂ ,” said Launcelot

’ Grenville, without any trace of dread at the dis-

covery, and he descended into his cabin.

‘ In half an hour he returned to the deck, and
a change had come, for darkness had now set-
tled upon the sea; the schooner was not half a
mile distant, and had kept up a slow, but
steady fire at the brigantine, cutting away the
main~topmast, pierci the bulwarks and laying
and and dying upon the

decks.

' Still the brigantine had held on, though why
its commander kept up a ii ht that was

Alvez Miguel could not un erstand.

A8 Captain Grenville reached .the deck an-
other shot buried itself in the mammast, show—
ing that the aim of the huccaneer was improv-
ing notwithstanding the darkness. .

‘ That is a. hint we had better follow, Bring
the vessel to, Senor Miguel,” said Captam Gren-
ville, with a sang fro' that his crew were far
from feeling.

The brigantine accordingl swept around un-
til she lay head to the wind: rocking upon the
waves, while the schooner soon after rushed by

 
her, a cable’s length distant, her men at the
guns, and looking threatening indeed.

Swee ing up into the wind, after having got-
ten wel. astern, the buccaneer began to beat up
to the brigantine under shortened sail, and soon
ran alongside and cast out the grapnels, while
scores 0 ferocious—looking men prepared to
spring on board.

But, suddenly, from the broadside of the
brigantine burst a sheet of livid ﬂame, and the
guns, charged heavily with small shot, tore
through the crowded ranks of the buccaneers,
while, with a loud cry to his men to follow him,
Launcelot Grenville, now in full uniform,
sprung u n the deck of the schooner.

Instant y at his back came Alvez Miguel and
half a hundred Mexicans, and so great was the
surprise of the pirates, and so deadly had been
the broadside from the brigantine at arm’s
length, that the were driVen in confusion hack-
ward, and fo owing up the advantage thus

ained the crew of the cruiser threw themselves

orward with irresistible force, led on by their
fearless leader, and in a very few minutes voices
arose in cries for mercy, and the schooner was
won: Launcelot Grenville had kept his word
and ca tured a . lendid vessel, above which to
hoist t e ﬂag 0 Mexico, and the buccaneers,
who had expected to meet only an armed mer-
chantman, had found that the biter was bitten.

CHAPTER XVI.
A DARING BUSE.

IT was a bright, starlit ﬁght, and yet the sil-
ver-beeﬁangled heavens f 'ed to brighten up
the dar pile of stone that formed the proud
fortress of Mexico, known as the Castle San
Juan de Uloa. .

Through its embrasures here and there glim-
mered a faint light that proved life was within;
but, otherwise, it rose above the waters black,

loomy and threatenin —a huge, ‘ sentinel
t had stood guard or generations over the
eig of Vera Cruz.
lowly toward this massive fortress a vessel
was headin , its destination evidently being the
rt he on , where the lights twinkled brightly
in win ows and upon vessels at anchor.

Suddenl from the dark hull of the approach-

ing vesse urst jets of ﬂame, and the deep
boom of cannon followed; but there was no
roar of shot, no iron messengers hurled against
the fortress; the cruiser was only saluting the
“Iron Gate to Mexico,” and stood on her way
up to the city, the castle replying to the salute
in deep tones from her brazen throats, as though
with angry growl at being disturbed from its
repose.
As the ﬂash of her dogs of war lighted up the
vessel it showed a most rakish -lookin schooner,
trim asa yacht in build, and et t reatening
and vicious in appearance, for e was heavily
armed, and, from the number of men upon her
decks, possessed a large crew.

Every rope was in lace; the crew went about
their duties silent an with promptness; and it
was evident that the one in command was a
strict disciplinarian and a thorough seamen.

Upon the quarter-deck, leaning against the
high bulwarks, his arms folded upon his broad
breast, and a cigar between his teeth, stood that
commander—Launcelot Grenville, his dark face
more stern than ever, and his somber eyes
gazing upon the lights of the distant city.

After a most successful cruise, in the schooner
he had so llantly captured, he was returning
to Vera flung,l into which port he had sent
several Spa ' prizes taken in West. Indian
waters and there was a calm joy at his heart
in the boilile that he would soon see his bab boy,
to whom e clung with a love as dee as t at he
had felt for the lost zulah, who
grave upon the treasure island.

Gliding swiftly up the harbor the beautiful
schooner drOpped anchor, and a boat was called
away for her commander to go on shore, when
a Government barge ran alongside.

It contained eig t oarsmen, a dozen marines
and an oﬂicer, the latter, followed by the
soldiers, at once springing on board.

“I would see Captain Grenville,” said the

 
ept in her

ﬂlcer.

“ I am Launcelot Grenville. senor: what is
your will with me i” and Launcelot stepped for-
ward and saluted the ofﬁcial.

“ You are aware that the Government of
Mexico has changed in the past few months,
senor?”

“I was not aware of anything of the kind,
senor,” calmly replied Launcelot, though he felt
that there was trouble brewin for him.

“It is a, fact though; the vernment was
overthrown three months 0, and the Revolu-
tionists now are in power, Captain Grenville.”

“ And the prizes which I have sent in, senor?”

“' Were taken b the party now in war, and
which I may ad ,is more powerfu than the
other; of course you will side with the Revolu-
tionists, senor?” and the oﬁcer gazed ﬁxedly
into the face of the schooner’s commander.

“ To be executed as a traitor when the le ti-
mate Government gets back in power! 0
senor, I owe my allegiance to those who placed
my commission in mv bands, and to that junta
alone am I responsible.” .

“The present one will hold you responsible,

 
senor, and I advise you to yield gracefully, for
the fate you hint of as a traitor to the old party,
ma be meted out to you by the new.”

‘ Senor, I am not to be intimidated by possi-
bilities; I left this port nearly a year a in a
miserable craft, but with a good crew; cap-
tured this schooner, one of the ﬂeetest and best
aﬂoat; have taken a number of valuable prizes
and sent them hither, and now I return to be
thrown about like a shuttlecock. What guar-
antee have I that when I return from another
cruise I ma not ﬁnd the old canny in power?
None! I ' remain truetothe vernmentthat
I have faithfully served.”

“ I regret your decision, senor for—”

“ s183111 listening,” said Launcelot as the other
pan .

“ I have orders to seize your vessel and place
you in irons.” '

Captain Grenville iled, and glanced over
the small force brou ht by the Mexican.

“ Senor, you shou d have come better pre-
pared to carry out such an intention—I have
sevent -ﬁve men on board here, and seventy of
them, may add, are buccaneers whom I per-
suaded to step from under the black ﬂag to the
protection of the Mexican colors, and they are
not to be triﬂed with; but I wish no trouble if
it can be avoided, and I beg that you give me
time to think the matter over.”

“ Were it ﬁssible for a vessel to put to sea
past the cast , I would believe you intended to
do so; but knowing that you would be sunk in
ten minutes, I will give you an hour to consider.
Remember, too, that you and your ofﬁcers hold
the same rank under the present Government
that you did before, and that your share of the
prizes are not forfeited.”

“You will return then, within the hour?”

“ Yes, senor,” an the Mexican de rted, but
instead of rowing ashore he headed or the for-
tress of San Juan de Uloa, and arrivin in hail-
ing distance, called out to the sentinel tchal-
lenged the boat:

" A vessel may attempt to put tosea tonight.
If so, sink it!”

“Si, senor I” cried an ofﬁcer, in response, who
seemed to recognize the voice of the speaker, as
the chief of the harbor guard.

Hardly had the boat rowed away from the
schooner, when Launcelot Grenville said:

“ Senor Miguel, yonder lie the half-dozen
prizes we sent in—jump into the cutter and visit
each one, bringing back our prize crews with
you, and be in a hurry, or that ofﬁcer will re-
turn and catch you.”

“Si, senor capitan,” and the young lieuten-
ant sprung into the schooner’s cutter, and-in half
an hour returned With nearly two-score men
collected from the half-dozen prizes anchored
near, and which Launcelot Grenville had sent
into_port under petty officers and a few men as
a prize crew.

“ Men, it is my intention to go out to sea. to-
nightzdo you fear to follow me?” asked Cap-
tain Grenville, as the men gathered around him
for they knew that he was planning some bold
maneuver. 4

To a man, they gavea low assent, for they had
become deeply attached to their brave, yet stern
commander.

Glancing over the crew, searchingly, Iannce-
lot continued:

“I wish ascore of men for a service of the
deadliest danger—who will volunteer?”

Seeing that all were willing and anxious, be
selected the requisite number from those' nearest
to him. and said, calmly:

“ Take the cutter and go on board of the
barque, and get all in readiness to sail at a mo-
ment’s notice.”

In silence, though wondering, themen obeyed,
and a few moments after the government
ran alongside the schooner, and the ofﬁcer
sprun on board.

“ ell, senor, I am here for our answer?"

“ You shall hays it. Senor iguel, get up the
anchor and set sail on the schooner.”

“Madre de Dios! what is your intention?”
cried the alarmed oﬂlcer.

“To put to sea, senor, and if you and your
mendo notwishtoaccom yme, you had
better return to your boat,” was the reply.

“ I command you, senor, to surrender this
vessel to me I” yelled the emcer, in a

“ And I decline to obey your command. Will
you leave in schooner, senor, or shall I order
in men to t row you overboard?”

he Mexican glanced over the crew standing
around, and then upon his shrinking marines,
and came to the conclusion that discretion wai
the better part of valor, so said, hoarsely:

“You shall hang for this, for you can never
pass the castle. Into the has men I”

_ The marines obeyed with crit , and once
in the barge, the chest ve an er in a low
tone, and away it sped own toward the castle.

As soon as it had left the side, hmmlot
Grenville said:

“ Senor Miguel, you understood my orders
perfectly!"

“ Yes, my tain.”

“Then I shal at once go onboard theharque,
andassoon as I am under way, you start in
pursuit!"

“ Ay ay, senor capitan,” and as the young

 
:‘3' ’

     
.._—-

wvwm
'______ I, __ \

If,

£45.

Mexican lied, Launcelot Grenville sprung
over the si 6 into a waiting boat, and rowed
rapidly toward the large and graceful barque
that lay two cable-lengths away.

Al Jez Miguel watched the swiftly-rowing
boat, saw it reach the barque, and immediately
alter the sails were spread, the bows swung
round, and the beautiful vessel under a cloud of
canvas headed for the open sea.

" Now, lads, lively and we’ll give chase! man
those bow guns there, and ﬁre when I give the
word!” cried the young lieutenant, and like
huge wings the sails arose above the schooner’s
deck, and a moment after it forged throu h the
“alter at a rapid rate, for a nine-knot reeze
was blowing.

Instantly all was excitement in the harbor
and along the shores; lights ﬂashed on the decks
of the numerous vessels at anchor, the guard-
boats sent up rockets and the bells of Vera
Cruz run out in wild alarm, while the deep
boom of t e si 1 guns added their roar to the
confusion, an catching the contagion of up-
roar, the old castle of De Uloa, the guardian for-
tress of the city, was now illuminated and on
the watch.

In, the meantime the two vessels, the barque
leading by a quarter of a mile, were rushing
down the harbor at race-horse speed heading

directly for the open sea, which coul only be
gained by passing under the fearful antlet of
the guns of the Castle San Juan de loa, the

arapets of which now were crowded with sol-

'ers, as seen by the blue lights sent up.

As the barque overhauled the guard-boat,
which had boarded the schooner, the ofﬁcer
recklessl attempted to throw himself and men
on boar ; but the tall form at the vessel’s helm
:uddenly brought the bows u , a crash follow-
ed, and shivered into atoms t to huge its crew
were left struggling in the white we {e of the
flying vessel, w lie the other harbor cutters gave
the fugitive craft a wide berth.

As the barque glided free of the drowning
men, a bright flash suddenly burst from the
Lows of the privatecr schooner, and a solid shot
came whirring above the heads of Launcelot
Grenville and hi; crew, every man of whom
fully realized now the reckless, desperate plan
of their daring commander to get to sea.

But like the ver wind the barque ﬂew on,
lying well over un er the pressure of the wind
upon her clouds of canvas, and going at a
twelve-knot pace, while the bow us of the
.,chooner rushing on in pursuit, sen shot after
not over and around their companions’ heads.

But suddenly there came a crash as though
the very earth was rent in twain, a blinding
tiara, and the roar of a hundred iron balls as
the rushed shrieking through the air—the cas-
tle ad opened upon the escaping vessel.

Through the white canvas, over the decks,
cutting great gaps in the bulwarks, and sending
showers of splinters upon every hand, the iron
tornado passed over the barque. and left a fear-
ful scene behind, for half a dozen men were
slain, and others wounded.

But at the helm stood the grim commander,
unhurt, calm as a statue, avcigar between his
lips, and his eyes lancing over the damage
done by the terriﬁc nre from the castle.

“Not vitally hurt; now for a scattering ﬁre,
he said, calmly and his men, inspired by his ex-
ample, spr back to their posts of duty.

Then, ming ing with the rattle of the schoon-
cr’s guns, was the deep basso of the cannon from
the castle, and the speed of the barque alone
kept the aim from provin fatal, for, as it was,
she was struck time an again, her topmasts
carried away, and half of her crew lay dead or
(1 yin upon er decks.

Su denly another volley of giant guns from
the castle, and the bowsprit was carried away,
and the mizzen-mast went topplin over; but
t-u-tunately for the daring man w 0 yet held
me helm of the shot-torn barque, he had passed
tne castle, and having gained an ofiin , squared
right away before the wind, althoug it gave
the fortress an opportunity to rake him fore and

2.1;.

Instantly the guns were brought to bear on
the brig, and so terrible did the ﬁre become,
even at that long'distance, that the men shrunk
from duty and, as the foremast went down,
they rushed below with cries of horror, leaving
tlnir leader still at the helm, bleeding from
several wounds; but calm and determined.

But in vain did he attempt to hold the barque
on her course, for with the rig ing and ars
dragging alongside, no one to 0 his or ers,
and on] the mainmast standing, t e noble ves-

- :' -l c iul do no more, and lay a sinking wreck

noon the waters, while the yell that burst from

t, M s. )ldiers at the castle came distinctly to the ‘

l2 US of Launcel'xt Grenville.

Anti the schooner, what of it? Not ﬁve cable
A ‘ug .18 away it came on like the wind, and luff-
} 1‘; up, was skillfully brought alongside of the
1 in} to, while a dozen forms sprung upon the

;~. lﬂtTﬁ‘PEd vessel.
" Captain Grenville! Praise to the Virgin

I Int 19!. that you are alivel but what a verv hell
t is craft has been! Are all the crew dead?"

" N o Senor Miguel, those that are not dead
ran below. Call them up and let us keep an r“

cane, for myrune will soon be known at the

 
Freelance, the Buccaneer.

castle, as soon as the guard-boats arrive there
with the crcw I ran down,” said Lanncelot
Grenville, and he was supported by two of his
men to the deck of the schooner while those of
the barquc’s crew who had gone below, and the
wounded, were quickly transferred to the priva-
teer

“Now set the barque aﬂre, Miguel, and let
us stand out to sea, as though 'ust getting out
of the way of the burning wreck; you kept up
that chase bravely, and the schooner was not
suspected, so we have a splendid craft beneath
our feet. Cast loose there!” and as Captain
Grenville gave the last order the schooner
swung clear from the wreck, from which the
ﬂames now burst in fury.

The castle, leaving the affair to the schooner
for the daring ruse was not yet known, ha
ceased firing, and then the men had left their
guns, expecting the privateer to brin the barque
back into port; but, as the little cra t, under all
the canvas that would draw, after tacking once
or twice, sud'lenly stood seaward, leaving the
bumiug wreck astcrn, the ofﬁcers of the fortress
could not understand the strange maneuver.

“There is doubtless a strange sail in sight,”
said the Governor—General of the castle, ‘ and
he has gone in pursuit; but what does the ofﬁcer
in that guard-boat say, Red rez?”

A ha' from a guard-boat had attracted the
attention of the Governor-General of the fort-
ress.

“Ayl ny! senor, what is it?” called out Colo-
nel Redrez, the aide-de-camp.

“ Senor, you ﬁred upon the wrong craft; the
schooner sent the barque ahead and gave chase,
as a ruse to escape to seaunhurt, and, maleditn I
he ran me down and drowned half of my men.
Fire upon the schooner, Senor Governor!”

It was the ofi'cer of the wrecked lard-boat
that spoke, and who had been picke< up by an-
other barge with thOSe of his crew who had not
been killed or drowned by the barque running
them down.

Instantly the guns of the castle were manned
once more, and turned upon the schooner, go-
ing seaward with the speed of a bird; but the
distance was too great now, and the privatcer
escaped out of range, and disappeared in the
darkness.

“There is the only hope of capture now,”
said the Governor, pointing to an armed cutter
and a brigantine-of—war comin down the bar-
bor, and pushing on in rapi chase of the
schooner, now two leagues away.

 
CHAPTER XVII.
PLAYING wrra mm.

Arum his desperate, et successful {Light from
Vera Cruz, Launcelot renville gain a good
oﬂin , and then headed down the coast.

W at would be his future course he knew not
for, in making his escape, he had but followed
the promptings of a determination not to serve
the Revolutionists, who had overthrown the
Government to which he owed allegiance.

Resolved not to submit, he had taken a despe-
rate measure to get out to sea with his vessel,
yet not knowing what he would do after he did

so.

Althou h wounded several times in running
the gant et of the castle’s guns, he was not
much hurt, and after the surgeon had dre-sed
his wounds, he called his ofﬁcers into the cabin,
and told them that he intended to visit Vera
Cruz in di uise and hold communication with
the de Junta are he came to any decision
re ar ing his actions for the future.
lthouﬁl‘: it would be attended with the great-
est risk uncelot Grenville could not be de-
terred from going to Vera Cruz, and the schoon-
er was at once put away for the mouth of the
Alvarado river in the vicinity of which her
commander knew there were lagoons where he
could find a safe hiding-place for his vessrl.

Running in shore by night, he found the re-
auisite retreat for the schooner, and, giving or-

ers to Alvez Miguel, who remained in command,
that no one, under any pretense, should leave
the vessel, he disguised himself as a coast ﬁsh-
erman, and was rowed to the mainland and left
alone to go upon his perilous mission.

Although e was anxious to learn the exact
situation of affairs in Mexico, and to see what
hope there was of the Revolutionists holding
power, he was far more desirous of seein his

aby boy who, with his nurse, was then in era
leuz, iand consequently he directed his steps to
t at c t . ‘

B trzveling at night, onliy, Launcelot reach-
ed era Cruz in safety, an at once sou ht the

house where he knew the Persian nurse, one,

to live with his little boy.

It was late when he arrived but his knock
was at, once answered by an old Mexican wo-
man, who inquired his business.

He replied that he wished to see the Senora
Allene, and the Persian woman at once appear-
ed, for she recognized his voice.

“Come in, most noble Rais,” she cried, ad-
dI‘CSJing him, as was the custom, in the manner
O.’ the East.

Entering, the door was quicgg closed behind
him, and a seat brought forw by the Mexi-

 
can woman, who now recognized in the ﬁsher--
man her liberal patron, for Launcelot had been
most generous toward her.

“My boy? my little Merle?” he asked anx-
iously.

“ Sleeps there, oh Rain, and is as beautiful as
was his mother, my august mistress, though he
has your dark, sad e es,” said the nurse, proud-
1 , and she drew bac the silk covering from the
s eeping child.

For some moments the father stood gazing in
silence upon his baby boy, and then stoopin
over he kissed the rosebud mouth and turnc
away, his lip, ever firm amid scenes of carnage,
quivering with emotion.

“He is very beautiful, Allene. Here, I have
brought you old for his wants, and your own;
and, senora, Izhave not forgotten you.”

As he spoke, he gave a belt of gold into the
hands of Allene, and threw a purse, heavy with
the same precious metal, into the lap of the old
Mexican woman, who hu ged it to her breast
with a rapture that rov that it was her god,
as it is of most peep e, kind reader.

“I will come again to—morrow, Allene, but
not in this disguise, pierhaps. You know why I
am thus disgmsed?” e said, inquiringl .

“ Yes, oh mighty Rais; the town 18 full of
your splendid act, and I feared you had not 68--
caped the iron hail showered upon you: you
bear a charmed life, great skimmer of the seas,”
said Allene, with enthusiasm.

“ So it seems, Allene: but whether rescued"
for ood or bad who can tell?” he said, sadly,
and idding the woman adios he left the house
and wende his way to the shop of a Spanish,
Jew with whom he had had dealings uite often.

A loud knock aroused the Jew, an cautious-
ly he 0 ned the door.

“ De nco, I v ould come in, for I need your
aid: I am the S. nor Grenville,” he said, softly.

“ H01 Abraham! Senor, your life hangs by
a three. in this town. Come ri ht in.”

“So I know, my friend; but do not fear to»
trust you, as (you see.”

The Jew le him into an inner room, beyond.
his shop, which had the appearance of a mu~
seum, as it contained a sample of nearly every
manufactured article in the world.

“ Be seated, senor, and while I open this wine
tell me how I can serve you—but, diabln ! what
a deed was that of yours last week! You are a.
fearless man, senor ” and the Jew placed before
his est a bottle 0 wine and glasses.

“ lbanco, where is my old regiment of
Lanceros?” asked Launeelot, thoughtfully.

“Up in the Sierra Madre mountains, senor;
they Safe ordered there months ago from the
ca it .

] B?',1:hey sided with the Revolutionisu, doubt-
ess

“ Yes, senor.”
‘: .itnd y<l)u, Delbancloi?” d f h i
‘ amawaysthef en 0 t eparty :1qu-
er, senor; but the Revolutionists regret losing
you, while the old defenders of the Government
fejoilcg that you acted as you did, and remained
o a .
I‘ Have you a uniform of the Lanceros, Del-
banco?”
“Yes, senor, a ca tain’s.”
“Good; if it wil fit me I will take it. You
remember Captain Verona?”
“ The ofﬁcer who looked so much like your-
self, senor?”
“ The same: has he been in town of late?”
“ Not since you were here together, senor.”
“And none of the regiment are in the city?”
“ No, senor- if there were I would know it.”
“I know that on would. Now, Delbanco,
t me out the uni orm, a sword, pistols, a sad—
le, bridle, and all that I need for my make-up.
for on have a horse in your stable, doubtless?”
“ dozen, senor.”
“Well, I wish the best, and here is gold to re-

pal)v you.” _

‘ Senor capitan, I like you, and I would warn
on that you may he discovered not to be Cap-

{ain Verona.”

“I shall take those chances. Now get me
ready, Delbanco." .

The Jew obeyed. and in half an hour after an
ofﬁcer of Lanceros dismounted before the princi-
pal inn and asked for accommodations. ,

He was at once shown to a pleasant room, and
in a few minutes more Launcelot Grenville was
sleeping as quietly as though he were not in the
lion 8 den, with death hoverin over him, should
the bold game be was playing the known.

At a late hour the following morning Lauan-
lot Grenville arose, breakfasted and then stroll-
ed out into the plaza, where he was suddenly
confronted by a young aide whom he had met
before and slightly knew.

“Ha, Verona, when did you get into the cit l '
Thought you were with 'our regiment in t e
Sierras!” and the young 0 cer stretched out his .
hand in a friendly way.

“ I arrived last ni ht, Major Cavallo, and am
on short leave," sai Lnuncelot, keeping up his
disguise admirably.

“ I am delighted you are here, and you must
come to the general’s to a ball tonight. New I
won’t have you say no, for all the beauties in
Vera Crus are to be there, and, as assistantth
to my commander, I invite you.”

 
Freelance, the Buccaneer.

15

 
t r

“ You are very kind, senor, and I will come
if possible.”
You must come. B the way what do you
think of the ﬂight of hatmad American, the
other day?”

“ You refer to the escape of Captain Gren-
ville doubtless?”

“Yes; be fooled the castle to a man, and,
from the Governor down, the have all to open
wine whenever they show t emselves in the
city. The new government omcials are
over it, for they would ive much to have Gren-
ville in their service. hey have outlawed him

—see there!”

The young ofﬁcer pointed to a large lacard
tacked upon a con cuous lace, and W1 hout a
change in his dar face, uncelot Grenville

“ Announcement!

“ Whereas, an omcer in the naval service of Mexi-
co, has boldly, deﬁantly, and intentionally turned a
traitor to the existing Government, and raised the
red hand of outlawriggainst ofﬁcials, in the dis-
charge of their duty; t declared by the Mexican
Junta this day, March 10th., 18—, that said treach-
erous rsonage, Launcelot Grenville is hereby
brand ass irate, and with his associate oﬁlcers
and crew sha be treated as free rovers wherever
and whenever foun‘dbcialther upon the land or sea.

ed
“Tan Juan or Marco."

“ the way, Verona, how much you look
like tgat Captain Grenville. I have remarked
it before,” said the Mexican.

“ Yes, there is said to be a striking likeness
between us; but he has certainly run his head
into the noose by his act. Will the Junta send
this proclamation abroad, Senor Cavalloi” said
Launcelot, with perfect com .

“ Oh, no! They do their duty in branding
him, and there it ends. If he falls into the hands
of any of our cruisers he will be hung u with
his crew, and there the matter will end, or out-
side countries seem ta) care very little what
takes place in our sunny land of Mexico; but
gemlembelil' the téall tg-nlgdhg Ca tain Verona

or she expec you, an e exican passed
on, while Launcelot Grenville muttered, as he
walked leisurel along:

“Well, I am randed as a pirate, and will be
hunted from sea to sea

“So be it, let the end be what it may, for
Fate leads me on and I blindly follow.

“I had heped for a diiferent end—had hoped
to leave an honorable name for my boy to bear
and that the world would never know that l
hadbeen an ofﬁcer on the deck of a Moorish
corsair. Oh! what a bitter, fearful destiny has
been mine! Accused of bem a very Cain—the
slayer of the father of poor ucille whom I so
fondly loved, and thereby beco her de-
stroyer too! Oh God! I can never blot out
that night when she fell upon her father’s grave,
her own hand drivin the knife into her bosom!

“How 1 have s ered Heaven only knows,
and why I have been spared throu h all sur-
gsseth my comprehension ' but I w' not yield

death or despair now. No, I will live for my
beautiful boy, and let Fate do its worst.” .

He had stopgfd in his walk and was gazing
out upon the arbor his heart throbbing, his
brain on ﬁre, yet his ace motionlea

“ By Heaven! I love this life of desperate
danger, and I will go to-night to that ball, come
what may.”

Just then a vehicle with an elderly
gentleman and a beautiful maiden in i and at
sight of the tall form in the uniform of t Mex-
ican Lanceros, they drew up.

. “Ha, Senor Verona, glad to see you in town.

Going to the ball at the neral-commandante’s
to-nighti” said the out eman, whom Launce-
lot recognised as a d tin ished lawyer.

“ Y Senor Merillo, ,will be there. Senor-
ita Yes 1, I hope you are well?”

The beautiful maiden bowed, and the vehicle

on.

“ I have more conﬁdence in m disguise, as I
have deceived the lovely e es of sabel Merillo.
Now let me see if an of t e leaders of the old
Government can be ound in town,” and Issues-
lot turned into a by-street which led to the
abode of the Jew, Delbanco.

CHAPTER XVIII.
m wanme. _

“ AH, senor, let me beg of on not to go there.
You have your hand on the 'on’s mane as it
so do not put it in his mouth, I entreat,” sai
Delbanco, earnestly, in answer to Launcelot’s
announcement that he mtended  to the
ball to be given at the general .qmn
that ni ht. '

“ It a mask-ball, Delbanco.” _

“ 0h, es, and if you would only retire at the
end of t e evenin and not remove your mask;
but ou will not, w.”

“ shall remove my mask with the others,
senor. Now I wish on to send for the Senora
Garcia, Morse and isneros, who you say are
in town in  Tell them to come here
for it might attract attention for me to visit

 
them.”
“They will come, senor itan. I will at
once go in search of them. ter my parlor,

please until my return.”
Heledthewaythroughanau'owhall, threw

 
o n a door, concealed by a heavy curtain and
t e visitor started at the scene of magniﬁcence
that burst upon him.

It was a large room, leading by several full-
length windows out upon a marble-paved plaza,
fall: ceilter of which wdas gmgmented with”:

ountain aroun w ic were grou
s of beautiful ﬂowers.

A few trees were in the court, which was sur-
rounded by a high wall, the fountain was
throwing jets of water into the air, ﬁshes swam
in the beam at its base, and numbers of birds of
rare plumage were ﬂuttering about amid the
foliage.

The room that looked out upon this scene was
beautiful in the extreme, for a velvet carpet
covered the ﬂoor, silk curtains fell in folds over
the windows, and satin divans and easy-chairs
were scattered here and there, whilea 'tar,
some half-withered roses and several boo lay
upon a lounge, that looked as though it might
have been recently occupied.

“ Rest here, senor and if you wish wine and
refreshments, soun that silver gong on the
table and a servant will attend you. Now I
will be off,” and Delbanco left the room, while
Launcelot lanced around him in amazement at
the beaut' ul scene.

“The Jew must be as rich as a Croesus to live
in this style. Who would have thought that a
palace of beauty could be so near his old cu-
riosity shop,” and Launcelot threw himself
down uﬁn a divan and took up the guitar.

Runn g his ﬁngers over the strings with
skillful touch, he broke into a Spanish love-son
he had learned from his mother, and his ric
voice ﬁlled the room with melody.

“Bravo, senor ca itan! I could not resist
the temptation to in rude.”

In an instant he was upon his feet, and fairly
started with surprised admiration as his e es
fell upon a form of ex uisite loveliness, an a
face of surpassing beau y within afew feet of
him, and just ping out from beneath the
silken curtain t at concealed a door.

It was a dark face of S ish beauty, with
raven hair, lashes long an thick, and a mouth
full and expressive, while her age could not
have been more than twenty.

in a white robe of some light gauzy
material she wore onl as ornaments a comb of
solid gold, which hel up her masses of black
hair, a gold anchor for a brooch, and a solitaire
ring, the stone being of immense sine and beau-

“ It is I that am the intruder fair lady, for
thisis doubtless your bower 0 beauty; but I
knew not that the Senor Delbanco had a—”

He paused, and with a laugh the maiden en-
tered the room and said: '

“ A wife you were going to say: nor has be
for m mo her died years . I am his daugh-
ter, uanita Delbanco, an you are Captain

renville the—”

“ Permit me to add the word for you, senori-
tafthe pirate,” and there was a sneer in the
vorce.

“No, no, no senor: I meant not to say that,
but I hesitated because I feared to sa to your
face what was upon m ton e; but will con-
tinue the sentence as I nten ed—the hero of the
most lant act ever known in Mexico.”

." ank you, senorita; you refer to my run-
mn the gantlet t the castle?”

“ es, for I now that you went on the
barque,_and my] father and myself were visit-
ing a friend, w ose house overlooks the harbor,
and we saw it all; but, senor capitan, have we
not met before?”

“There is somethin about your face that is
familiar, senorita, an yet—”

“Permit me to refresh our memory, and
also to thank you for a service rendered. Some
years aglo {:11 came to the rescue of a small
art ,w 0 been attacked by mountain rob-

rs

“Yes, near Puebla.”

“Have you forgotten that there was in the
party a young girl just returning from the
conventin the city of Mexico to her home at
Vera Cruz?”

“ Ah, I remember you now; and you are that
young girl?”

“ I am and I owe you more than I can ever
repay. My father’s agent was along and he
had with him a great deal of gold, w ich our
bravely coming to the rescue saved to 
What a fate you saved me from you well know,
and I have so longed to see you that I might
tell you how I appreciated what you have done
for me.”

“ It was a simple service, senorita. I was
ing to Mexico to report the result of my c
to the Government, and with my two com -
ions, heard your cry and came upon the rob rs
attacking you and our escort.”

“ Few men wo have taken the chances
against that robber band, and fewer men would
have been successful. N ow you may understand
why my father has ever been your warm friend,
for, though he has never ken with you upon
the subject he knows wgﬁo all that you saved
him and his daughter. But, senor capitan, I
overheard that you were going to the ball at
the commandante’s head-quarters to night—let
me entreat that you be not thus reckleu."

 
“ I love danger, senorita, for the excitement
it brings, and have determined to : but will
you not favor me with a song?” an Launcelot
spoke as though desirous of changing the con-
versation.

“You must pardon me if I refuse, for m {2:-
ther will soon return and I do not care to mm
him see me here, or even know that I have  '1
you. I will send you re cuts and a (rig 
and leave on to your own meditations. Adi
senor capi .”

Without another word Juanita Delbanco 101 t.
the room disa peering behind the curtained
door by which 3 e had entered.

A moment after a servant, a peon, entered
with a silver salver, loaded with fruits, sweet-
meats, wine and cigars, and placing them upon
a table withdrew in silence.

Dashing OR a glass of the rare Mexican wine,
and lighting a cigar Launcelot stepped out into
the plan, and ed to and fro as was his habit
when on boa ship, while his thoughts were
busy with the past, and his brow dark and
clouded.

Presently the Jew ap ared before him.

“ The senors are w1t in, Captain Grenville,
and await our pleasure.”

“I the you, senor,” and Launcelot Gren-
ville entered the room once more, to ﬁnd there
three men, whom, having thrown aside the dis-

' they wore, he recognized as members of
t e Government that had given him his com-
mission.

“ Ah Senor Grenville, a sad change for us all
—you denounced as a irate, and we hiding un-
der  while t e Revolutionists are in

wer,’ whined one of the three ex-leaders of

ex co.

“ It certainly looks bad, senors: but the Revo-
lutionists are not so stron but what they can
be overthrown,” boldly sai Laun lot.

“ Ah, senor, that is impossible; we are crushed
to the earth.’

“Why, senors, I believed I would ﬁnd in you
men willing to risk everything to drag the party
now in power down into the dust. It cannot be
that you are cowed as well as defeated,” said
Inuncelot, contemptuously.

“Senor, we know what would be the result;
hope is dead with us.”

‘ Bah! I believe I could easily raise men
enough to strike down the Governmental usurp-
ers, and—”

‘ No, no, my dear captain; it must not be, or
all our heads will go; we will all be hunted
down.”

“ So be it, senors: you know best, and I mm" L
We to offer my aid in case you intend.

' ' g again for power; but I am outlawed a:
it is, and shall henceforth take no interest in
Mexico. Adios, senors for I do not think we
shall meet again,”an Launcelot left the room
and the house, and, it being now dark, wended
his way to the home where dwelt his baby boy,
muttering between his teeth:

“ I ex to ﬁnd them ready to strike
against t eir foes' but 10, they are as cowardly
as foxes, and wit the Revolutionists in power.
the brand of buccaneer must still stand against
mg name. ”

uddenly a slender form confronted him, and
a slip of per was thrust into his hand, and
theonew 0 ve it to himdisappearedinthe
darkness ere could follow him.

By the aid of a ‘ ht that shone from a win-
dow nearby, Iaunce ot Grenville examined the
Esper, and saw written thereon, in English, and

a round hand:

“ Be warned! Do not attend the commandante‘s
ball to-night 1"

There was nothing more and no signature.
What could it mean, and who could have sent
the warning! ’
CHAPTER XIX.

m ooumam’s BALL.

Tn spacious and handsome quarters of the
Commandante—General of Vera Cruz were
Erandly illuminated in honor of the eighteenth

irthday anniversary of his beautiful daughter
Claudita Ignacio and thither had gathered a
the beauty and chivalry of the city.

The entertainment was to be en costume and
en masque, and for weeks the lovely senoritas
and young senoras—for married women hold
much power in Mexican society—bad been get-
tin their dremes ready, while the gentlemen,
bet in military, naval and civil life, were de-
sirous of making display.

Among those who attracted the most atten-
tion for his elegant form and bearing, thorgh
his face could not be seen, as he wore a close-ﬁt-
ting mask, was one dressed in the full unifr-r: l
of a Ca tain of the Lancers, who, after bowir -
before e commandante-general and the be: i -
tiful Claudita, and wishinrr for the latter mu v
happy returns of the say. walked lev Iv
through the different salons, gazing at the brai-
liant‘assemblage, and almost airy scene.

“I am glad you came, captain Verona, and
a tiny hand was slipped into his arm. and a
mask of blue silk, worn by a maiden in Moorish
costume, was turned u to his face.

The manstarted sud enly, as he lanced down
at the maiden, and then said, quiet y:

“ Have you not made a mistake, Senorita?”

:i

V;.-.:.....vi;.-—_,

a..." ‘ .;~..

 .v

.- -,_. I” V...

.- ; p-l'.v—..~-.-.._;._L..;.- ..-; -‘.....‘.._— ﬂ-

er. .__ . ._

int—-

»»o ‘v‘ nﬁﬂ.

—..

 
.“

16

“ Oh, no, I would know your form and hear-
ing anywhere, senor; besides, your uniform
tells me you are—”

“And your sweet voice tells me that I am
honored by the com ny of the sweet Senorita
l'leabel Merillo,” said the soldier, interrupting

er.
“Then, as you know me, Captain Verona,
may I ask wh you have treated me so cavalier-
ly, andrnot ca ed upon me, as I had a right to
e t

 
‘Senorita, my time has been so occupied
since my arrival that I have not had a moment
to devote to leasure.”

“ Enrique erona, your dut was to the wo-
man on profess to love; but i you are tired of
the egiance you are wholly free,” and the soft
voice was re roachful in its tone.

Ere the 0 car could make reply to the sweet
Ysabel, a voung midshipman came up to him,
and said, easantly:

“I wor in our ear, senor. A fair lady de-
mands that 1 ring you to her side at once, if
the senorita will pardon me.”

Ysabel bowed and withdrew her hand from
the ofﬁcer’s arm at once; but he led her to a
seat, and then turned to the messenger, whose
sli ht form was elegant in the extreme, and his
uniform most costly and rich.

“ Who would see me, senor?” he asked.

Without replying, the outh drew the ofﬁcer
to one side, an then sai , in a low tone:

“ This is no place for Captain Grenville.”

In spite of his nerve Launcelot Grenville gave
a slight start; but added, in the same cautious

tone:

“ Do you tell me this as a friend?”

“ Yes, one who would save you— For Diosl
behold!”

Launcelot turned at the quick exclamation of
the youth, and beheld, unmasked, and a preach-
ing the cominandante, an ofﬁcer of t e Lan-
ceros, his uniform and rank the same as his own,
and his form strangely alike, while his face was
dark, and also bore a striking resemblance to
his own.

“ Senor, it is Captain Enrique Verona, the
man you impersonate,” said the midshipman.

“ So I see. Come, let us draw near and see to
what unlucky circumstance I am indebted for
his untimely arrival,” cool] said Launcelot,
and, arm in arm with the mid y, they approach-
ed the s t where the commandante stood,
greeting is guest, and heard him say:

“ Both Claudita and myself were conﬁdent
we welcomed you half an hour ago in mask,
Captain Veronaaldso you have here a counter-
part' but when ' you arrive?” .

“ An hour since senor general, and I '1an
myself to your ba , as I bear dispatches to you.
Permit me to place them in your keeping,” and
the omoer handed a sealed acka e to the com-
mandante, who excused imse f 'vnd turned
away, while the maiden in Turkish costume
came forward and said, in a low tone:

“Captain Verona, I heard you say that you
had ust arrived in Vera Cruz?”

“ ', senon'ta, an hour a o, and I could not re-
sist the temptation of com g here although not
in mask.” .

The maiden seemed puzzled, and replied:

“ You were in mask half an hour ago, senor?”

“No, lady; it must have been my counter~

, of whom the general spoke; but I knew
not that any of our omcers were in Vera Cruz,
and none are, so I shall denounce the man who
be red to wear our uniform.”

“ Enri ue Verona, there has been some sad
mistake, you speak the truth, and I cannot
doubt you. I am Ysabel Merillo.” .

“ Ysabel, my darhng, I intended to hunt this
assemblage over for you. Come, take my arm.”

“ Have ou heard enough to warn on of your
dangerll me with me, or you are 0st,” cried
the midshi man, as both he and Launcelot Gren-
ville saw Captain Verona and Ysabel turn in
their direction. .

But Launcelot Grenville remained firm, his
arms folded u n his broad breast, and his som-
ber eyes ﬂas ng through his mask.

As the gaze o Enrique Verona fell- upon his
counterpart, he started and his face turned pale
with a certain superstitious awe, while Ysabel
said faintly: . . .

“ , there he stands, Enrique! Santumma!
how much alike 1”

All eyes were now turned. upon the two of-
ficers, the one masked, the other unmasked, as
they stood a few feet a t, the fair Ysabel
hanging on the Mexican s arm, and the mid-
shipman standing by the side of Launcelot
Grenville. . .

“ Ysabel,” and Captain Verona spoke in a low
tone: “ Ysabel, there is but one man that I have
ever seen whose form is as much like mine as is
that person’ and whose face too must be alike
also, as you wed to him for me this afternoon
3:36 that gaging it, cannot be, unless—yes, he would

an .

Stepping quickly forward the Mexican said
firm] , yet politely:

“ nor, as I happen to know that eyery of-
ficer of my reeiment except myself is now on
duty in the Sierra Madre mountains, I beg to
know why you wear the Laneeros uniform, and
who you are?”

.~’~-.. —..— -Ha»... . it. .. ,

'ﬂcerto whom Enrique

 
._.".....‘...J.,»'7 "1.1--" .. .- -

Freelance, the Buccaneer. '~

 
The answer came in a deep, calm voice:

“ Is this a request or a demand, senor?”

“ A demand, if so you like it, senor,” hotly
returned the Mexican.

“Then I decline now to answer.” I

“ And you refuse to unmask, too?” I

“I do.’

“ Hy the Virgin! but you shall.” I

“ old! this is no place for a scene, senor; but _,
if you wish to see my face, and care to unmask i.
me we will go elsewhere.” '

ere was something in the calm manner and 1

cool tones of the masked man that restrained l
the ﬁery Mexican from his evident intention of 
unmasking the man before him, and he said,
quickly: _

“ Anywhere you please, senor; lead the way.”

Launcelot bowed and turned away, the mid-
shipaian clinging to his arm.

ate the orange grove, near the arbor,” ‘

whispered the midshipman, and he dashed away
in the throng. ‘

Quietly Launcelot Grenville moved among
the crowd and, havinizieft Ysabel on the arm
of some other gallant, nrique Verona followed.

“ As this is a personal matter senor, in which
you consider yourself aggrieved by my w '
the uniform of your regiment, we will wal
apart from lockers-on,” said Launcelot.

But Enri ue Veiona hesitated, and seeing it,
Launcelot renville continued:

“Do you fear to go alone with me, senor?
You are armed.”

i

 
“ No, I fear no man; where will you go?” hot-
ly re lied the Mexican.

“ nto the garden, if so it please ou, senor.”

The Mexican said something in a. ow tone to
an ofﬁcer in infantry uniform near him, and
then aloud:

“ Senors, it is my request that we be not fol-
lowed, for this gentleman may be able to prove
he has a right to the uniform he wears, though
I doubt it. ’

Then he bowed to Launcelot Grenville, and
the two walked away together, the Mexican
leading the way to an orange grove not far dis-
tant from the mansion.

“Now, senor, I demand that you unmask,”
and the Mexican turned upon his counter t.

There was a new moon and it shone brightly
u n the masked face of Launcelot Grenville,
w 0 said, indifferently:

“I care not to unmask, senor; if you demand
it, on have a sword, so enforce the demand.”

6 Mexican sprun forward with a. maledic~
tion upon his lips, an said:

“ Then I’ll tear your mask from your face.”

But a. blow of iron sent him reeling back-
ward, and with a cry of rage he drew his sword 3
and rushed upon the man before him, who
can ht the blade upon his own, and by one
Ekildul movement sent it from the Mexican’s

an .

“ Por Dios! you shall not escape, for I know

gou now. None other could disarm me. Help,
exting’Rafaell This man is Grenville, the pi-
ra e . .

At his words two men sprung from the shadow
of the arbor, one of them being the infantry of-
Verona had spoken on
leaving the mansion, and the other in naval at-
tire, and both with swords drawn, as they
rushed forward at the call of the Lancero cap-
tain.

 
CHAPTER XX.
A DEBT mam. .

“Cowsan! take that l”

The words broke from the an lips of
Ltuncelot Grenville at the treachery o ' ue
Verona, in having others follow them to he
orange grove, and as he spoke he dashed the
hilt of his sword full in the already bruised face
of the Lancero, while he said, quickly:

“ Were it not that that sweet girl, Ysabel
Merillo. loves you, I would kill you.

But the blow fell heavily and the Mexican,
stunned and bleedin , sunk own in his tracks,
while, turning upon is other assailants, Launce-
lot Grenville dashed aside the sword of one and
drove his own wea n through his body.

Ere he could wit draw the blade the ofﬁcer in
naval uniform was upon him; but there came a
sudden ﬂash aloud report, and the third Mexi-
can fell in his tracks, while the midshipman,

istol in hand, run to the side of the man be
ad so nobly   .

“ Come, senor, come wk, for the shot has
alarmed the mansion. ow this priest’s robe
around you,” and the midshipman threw around
Launcelot‘s shoulders a heavy mantle, and an-
other about himself, while he drew him awa
toward a low wall, upon the other side of whic
stood two horses.

“ Mount for your life, senor, and come!”
cried the youth, and vaulting into the saddles
they dashed away, just as Enrique Verona
arose to his feet and cried in loud tones to the
excited crowd hastening toward the spot: . '

“It is Grenville the pirate! Donot let him

“5”?”
“ fear I have gotten you into trouble to-
night, senor,” said Launcelot, as the two gal. I
loped rapidly down the deserted streets.

‘No, for not a soul will know me, and the
wayI take you there are none to see where I

 
' should death come to me.

.Juande

i go; but you had better have heeded my warn-

. mg and stayed away from the commandante’s

ball.”

“ May I ask who you are that has served me
so well?” '

“ One who owes you a debt of gratitude that
can never be re

“ Whatever that debt may be it is more than
repaid by your act to-night. You have savml
my life and, for the sake of one being in tin
world, would not die now.”

“ Here we are, and we are safe. Enter!” and
the midshipman threw open a gate in a garden
wall and both rode within.

Dismounting, the youth led the horses into a
low stable and unsaddled them.

“ Now, come with me,” and the midshipman
entered a massive door in a high wall. and which
heIhaad tolunlack.

unce ot renville ste throu h the r-
tal and started with surprlgi’:d g p0

“ This is the private garden of the Senorita
Delbanco,” he said, in rise.

“And I am Juanita elbanoo, the Jewesa,”
was the low reply.

.“ Senorita!” and the voice of Launcelot Gren-
ville trembled, for he was deeply moved.
“ Senorita, you are a noble woman, and I owe
you my life—my escape from an ignominious
death, and you have more than re 'd the ser-
v1ce Irendered you, years ago. W y you have
done this I cannot tell, and your father—”

‘ ‘ My father knows nothing of my masquerade.
I dreaded danger to you, and as I have been a

rfect horsewoman since a child, I determined

aid you if I could and fearing you might be
recognized took the horses to the grove beyond
the commandante’s garden.
. “ I regret that blood had to be shed, but it
could not be he] d. Now I will give you a
good d' , an you must at once leave Vera
Cruz. on will not refuse me this request!”
and she looked up pleadin ly into hisface, while
she tore off the silk mask s e wore.

Removing his own mask Launcelot said, sadly:

“I will do asyou wish; but where is your

i father?”

“He must not know what I have done to-

: night, and; fortunately, he is away with a friend
‘ that is ill.’

Leadin the way into the house, Juanita
showed t e man whose life she had saved to a
room, and excusing herself for a monient, soon
returned with the suit of a fisherman; false
beard and all.

Ten minutes after Launcelot Grenville, in his
rude attire, 'oined Juanita in the elegantly.-
furnished where he had met her that
afternoon.

“Farewell, senorlta! and may you ever be
happy will be my prayer.” '

‘Adios, senor!” and the beautiful headeas
bowed, while Launcelot Grenville ssed out
into the street and the door closed be ind him.

Secure in his gilguise he walked briskly along,
and soon knock at the door of the little house
where dwelt Allene with his little son.

“0h, senor, I am so glad to see you, for the
soldiersare looking for you everywhere," said
the old Mexican woman, who opened the door
for him.

“I intend leaving the city and remote say
adios,” and he crossed over to where Allene sat
with the child in her la .

9111, ' you are in anger ” said the nurse.

am
calmly, and bent over the babe, whose d: rk
b ght eyes turned upon him, and smiled, show-
in no fear of the run h beard and hair. '
moment the lone , hunted man stood look-
ing at the child, and t on turned away.

‘ Let no harm befall in
ever fate overtakes his ether. You know
where the Treasure Isle is, and the Abyssinian
will show you where the riches are hidden,
Farewell.”

A moment after he had no out into the
streets now ﬁlled with sol iers and citizens
hunting everywhere for the daring buccaneer,
who had sorecklessly entered a city where he
was so well known—had gone to the com~
mandante’s ball and left two dead men as
souvenirs of his visit, and a scar on the hand-
some face of Enrique Verona, Captain of Lan-
ceros, that would go with him to the grave.

 
CHAPTER XXI. .
arms THREE “All.

On: morni in October, some three years
after the bran ng of Launcelot Grenville as an
outlaw and pirate, by the Mexican Government,
the sentinel on the parapet of the Castle San
m to the oﬂlcer of the day
that he heard td statntvnrin at sea), and a mes-
sen rwassen up 0 era a, mha
gunﬁattheninportonttothe scenam

The cruiser soon by the castle and head-
ed seaward, while a the same time a sail hove
in sight on the eastern horizon, but the sound
of firing still continued, though rowin fainter
and fainter, until it could be no onger eard.

' The vessel sighted had, in the meantime,
drawn above the horizon and was discovered to
be a large ship ﬂying the English 8:5, and evi-
dently a merchantman though arm “ .

‘

paid,” said the youth, feelingly.’

ways in danger, A lone,” be answer- '

boy, Allene, what— -

Freelance, the Buccaneer.

1'7

 
I

As she drew nearer it was apparent to all on
the watch that she had been in action, for her
ii. gging was had] cut up and her hull shot-tom
in a number of p aces.

As the cruiser passed close to her the omcer
oz ! deck hailed:

“ Ship aho ! What ship is that?”

“ The Eng ish ship Queen, from London, and
il ound to Vera Cruz with merchandise.”

“ You have been in action?” .

“Yes, we were chased by a buccaneer schoon-
w, and would have been captured had not an
American sloop-of-war have in sight and run
ihe irate off.”

“ ribe the schooner, senor.” .

“ Very long and narrow—lying low in the
water, and carrB'ing ﬁfteen , a large crew
and ﬂying at t e a b k ﬂa With a
anchor in the cen and at the ore a small,
blue ﬁeld with a gold lance in it. n

“ It is the Freebooter Freelance! Gracias,
senor, I will see if I can overhaul him,” and the
pompous little Mexican commander crowded on
all sail, as though he really wished tocome up
with the noted buccaneer, who, on several oc-
(asions had run the cruiser into rt.

Continuing on her way the ipl passed the
mstle and soon after dropped anc or in front
of the city when her commander, a man with
long gray beard and hair, repared to go ashore
to seek the firm to whlc

sinned.

he readin found the Mexican merchants
who con tulated him upon his escape, an
said the sill?) should at once be unloaded.

From the shi ing merchants the old captain
walked leisure up the street, looking at the
stran e sights met his eye, until he sudden-
ly ha ted before a window in which could be
seen a variety of articles.

“Will the senor purchase from me?” asked a
man in the doorway, lite(liy. .

“ Yes, I may ﬂn w at I esrre here,” and the
Eu lish captain entered the shop, and, seeing
the . he was alone with the one in attendance,
be said in a low tone:

"‘ Have three years so changed me, Delbanco,
that you fail to recognize an old friend, or care
wt to speak to Freelance the Freebooter?”

“Holy Abraham! Captain Grenville—”

“ IIoldi I am no longer known by that
name; it is buried forever. I am Freelance the
Freebooter,” said the other.

“ I should never have known on in that dis-
guise. Come into In salon an remove your
beard and wig and le me look once more upon
; our face, for you have ever a friend in me,

,Captain Gren-I mean Freelance.”

‘ I thank you, Delbanco. The name then that
I have won as a pirate has not turned on
a inst me?” and havmg entered the room nto
w 'ch the reader has been before ushered, ree-
lance threw aside his wig and heard, and the
dark, stern face of Launcelot Grenville was re-
vealed the lines harder drawn and an e
sion of bitterness hovering around the hand-
some mouth, while the eyes held a look even
more somber than was their wont. .

“ Never, captain! I am always your friend,
and you were driven to iracy. Alas! what a
name you have won, an how that one word
Freelance, causes a tremor in the of all
Mexicans.”

"Yes, Delbanco; I was driven to it, and now
We ﬂag that ﬂoats hunts me down. So be it,
'01 am what I am—the toy of Fate, a curse to
h self and mankind.”

e spoke bitterly, and the Jew sought to
man the subject, so he asked quick] :
M“ ow dyougetinto era ruzmy
endi’

A derisive laugh broke from the lips of Free-
hnce, and he answered:

“ Another ruse, senor, as good as the one by
which I took my schooner to sea, three years
go. I captured a large English ship from Lon-
ion, and consigned to the Senors Aquero &
Munoz, of Vera Cruz, and putting the vessel’s
trew on the schooner, I picked my me and im-
iersonating the British captain and _
tailed into the harbor, meeting a Mencan
‘ruiser going on alarmed by the ﬁring.”

“ But you will ose the ship’s cargo!”
' h, es; Aquero & Munoz wil t the car-
go, but care not for that and woul give ten
'lnes its value to accomplish what I came here
for. When the ship is unloaded I shall set all
and join m schooner of! Lobos island. But,
how does 0 world use you, my good Del-
bancol”
. “ Financially, well, senor: but I am all alone,
pas my daughter whom an never met, sailed in
the packet-shi Sea G last week for New Or-
lean where s e went to visit my sister. ”

“ at! In the Sea Gull you say, senor?”
asked Freelance, with excitement.

“ Yes, senor. Do you know aught of the ves-
sel?” cried the Jew, in alarm. .

“ Yes- she was ca tured two days ago by Ri-
cardo, the lieutenan of Laﬁtte” .
The Jew bowed his head and groaned m

“ flow know you this, senor?” he asked.

“There is honor among thieves, you know,
Jew,” sneered Freelance, and I came u n Ri-
cardo’s little brigantine just as he be. over-

his vessel was con-

f

icon oﬂic

is men, '

 
hauled the Sea Gull, but of course did not in-
terferein his capture. ’
“ And my daughter’s fate?” roaned the Jew.

“ You know what her fate w' be, senor?”
“ Doubtless ransom will be asked to restore
her to on.”

“ It shall be paid by tens of thousands of pesos.
Oh senor, save my daughter, save my only
c ' d, and I will give you all I am worth. I am
rich, rich, oh, so very rich, and all shall be

yours!” .

The poor father drop upon his knees with
hands 0 and 100 ed imploringly up into
go face 0 lance, who said, in his deep

nes:

“ Rise, senor. I will hasten the discharge of
the ship, and sail at once to the rendezvous and
rejoin my schooner.

‘ I know the haunt of Ricardo and there
your daughter will be taken, and will offer a
air ransom for her. If he refuses I will take
her by force, and if harm has befallen her, I
will even e her. I swear it!”

“ Than you, senor; oh, thank you from the
depth of an old father’s heart. I will give you
the d for her ransom.”

“ on will do nothing of the kind, Delbanco,
for thou h you may be rich, I could buy your
wealth a undred times over. I have an island
where I keep untold treasure and you must
know that I trade blood for old.”

He spoke bitterly, and t e Jew said, anx-

ouslzéh
“ on will you , senor?”

,“ At the very ear iest moment I can, and I
will kee men discharging the car day and
night. ow there is one other I wrsh to see,”
and resuming his disguise and promising to call
again, Freelance left the sh0p and wended his
way to the home of the old Mexican woman,
where dwelt his boy, the idol of his heart.

There were two things that struck the Senora
Aquero 8: Munoz, shipping merchants, in the
conduct of the English vow] consigned tothem,
and those were his almost constant absence from
his ship, and the haste he urged in discharging
the cargo while he declined to reload in era
Cruz, pre erring to sail for Sisal for a freight of
1 wood and mahogany, he said.

e fourth day after his arrival in port the
$1;in vias t"retirdy to sail, the ca _nters having
n ep usyon board re ng damages,
and with a fair breeze the $0038ng sailed out
of harbor, running close in under the castle
us, while the officers at the fortress who gazed
own upon her little thought that the tall form
standing near the wheel was none other than
the famous buccaneer Freelance, upon whose
head, dead or alive a hea rice was set.

Heading seaward until t hid the sea from
view, the shi then ran u t e coast of Mexico
and in good t me drop%dp anchor off the Island
of Lobos, where the uocaneer schooner was
awaiting her arrival.

On board the schooner were the captain and
crew of the captured ship, and calling them on
deck Freelance said, quietly:

“Captain, I merely borrowed your ship for a
shgrt while, and now return her to you in good
0 er.

“ Her cargo I delivered to the Senora Aquero
& Munoz at Vera Cr as you will see by these
receipts; but, as I ha to hasten away to per-
form a certain dn , I could not accept their re-
turn cargo, and vise you to go there at once
for it, a.anth my compliments to the Mex-

' and say I will call on them again
before long. Yourself and crew arefree, cap-
tain; and your vessel, having served my pur-
pose, awaits you.”

The astounded and delighted Englishman lost
no time in again taking command of the vessel
he had believed lost to him forever, and thank-
ing Freelance most heartily, he stood awa from
the island, headingfor Vera Cruz, where is ur-
rival and remarks le story threw the cit into
the wildest excitement, and caused the o cials
to be looked u as toys for the amusement of
Freelance the eebooter.

As for Delbanco, the Jew he enjoyed the ex-
citement hugely, and his hope of having his
beautiful daughter Juanita restored to him was
very great, for he had perfect conﬁdence in the
word of Freelance. buccaneer th h be was.
In the meantime the freebooter set sail
from Lobos island, and was making with all
speed for the haunt of Ricardo the pirate, who
had a stronghold upon an isle u u what is now
ﬁe Texas coast, but at that e belonged to

exico.

 
CHAPTER XXII.
m successes rst.

ONE of the most cruel buccaneers of the pre-
sent centurywas a Spaniard by the name 0 -
cardo and a ca tain of Lafitte, the Pirate of
the Gulf, who d such si a1 service for the
Americans in the battle of ew Orleans.

After the destruction of Laﬂtte’s ﬂeet Ricar-
do, who escaped in his ﬂeet vessel, became a ter-
ror alon the coast from Florida to Yucatan,
and, wit out the courage to trust himself far
out at sea, he was wont to hide in the lagoons
and inlets, and pounce out upon his unsuspecting

 
re , who a led to him in vain for me
$111325 it wagﬁisamood to spare. my,

This was the man who had captured the Sea
Gull, as, bound to New Orleans, and with the
wind from the north-east, she stood in shore-
ward on the port tack, toward the mouth of the
Rio Grande.

Upon this vessel Delbanco had told Freelance
that his daughter had gone as passenger, and of
course had fallen into the power of the merci-
less Ricardo, who, after a short, sharp action
had captured the packet ship and sent her at
once tohis island stronghold.

Toward this rendezvous then Freelance head-
ed after leaving Lobos island not at all sorryto
have a cause of quarrel wit his rival rover,
whom he hated for his numerous acts of cruelty,
for though a daring and fearless buccaneer him~
self, Launceloi- Grenville had not become a mon-
ster, or made war upon women and children,
nor struck down the defenseless man.

It was just after sunrise, one pleasant morn~
ing, that the schooner stood in toward the island
stronghold, winding its way through the chan-
nel under the ilotage of a Seaman who had
once served un er Ricardo.

As she drew nearer in shore those on the deck
of the schooner discerned the craft of Ricardo
lying close in under the land, the riggilnﬁl min-
glin with the foliage of a tree-clad ' that
over ung the little haven in which the outlaw
vessel found refuge.

Presently, from the hill-top came a white put
of smoke, and a solid shot buried itself in the
blue waters 'ust in front of the schooner’s bows.

“ A good ot, and a hint to show our colors.
Run u the red anchor and lance, Senor Miguel,”
said eelance, andto the fore went the blue
ﬁeld with its lance of gold, and at the peak was
raised the ﬂag of black with the red anchor in
in its center.

But a second shot came from the hill -top, and
striking near sent the spray over the deck.

“ The Senor Ricardo seems to doubt his con-
gere in crime. Show him a white ﬂag, Senor

iguel,” sneered Freelance, and up to the main-
top went a huge ﬂag of truce.

‘ Ah, he respects the white ﬂa ; I did not be-
lieve it of him. Run ri ht in, , and
anchor near Ricardo’s sc ooner.”

Swrftl‘ y the ﬂeet vessel ﬁded into the island'
harbor, passed over the r, and sweeping up
into the wind lay to not a cable’s length from
the other buccaneer craft.

Freelance glanced around him, and beheld
that the hills overhanging the harbor were well
fortiﬁed, while anchored near were half a dozen
craft of various sizes, and upon the shore were
wrecks of others that had been burned.

Upon a shelf on the hillside were a score of
rude cab' made from ship timbers, and an
opening in t e trees showed a all valley be-

orig, where were half a dozen huts of a like

ur .

The vessel of Ricardo lay close in shore, and
at lag-[gals stood her crew, while the cannon on
the ' ' e were also manned, and every pre
ration was made to give the visiting craft”;
warm reception, should its, errand rove hostile.

“Ahoy, the buccaneerl' I won see Captain
Ricardo,’ hailed Freelance.

“ Ca tain Ricardo is ashore at his cabin; you
can see him there,”-replied an oﬂcer in com-
mand of the schooner.

Callin a boat’s crew to accompany him, and
telling nor Mi I to signal him if needed,
Freelanoe fear y rowed ashore, and a sailor,
sent from the vessel of Ricardo, led him to a
quiet retreat back from the harbor, where a
cabin, larger and more comfortable than the
othe stood alone.

In t doorway sat Ricardo, a man of huge
frame, a heavil -bearded face, and an eye that
glittered devilis 1y. \

He was dressed in a uniform combining the
Spanish and United States navies, and was
armed with acutlass, a brace of pistols and a
long knife.

A more forbidding face and form one would
not case to gaze upon.

“Ah, it is Cafgtain Freelance! HadI known—”

“Nonsense 'cardo, you know in vessel too
well to mistake her for a cruiser un er a le 'ti-
mate flag, and I raised my colors at your t
ﬁre,” said Freelance, gazing straight into the
other’s face. .

j‘ Be seated, senor, and say why I am honored
wrth a visit from you,” re lied Ricardo, sul-
lenly, evidently not pleased y the coming of
Freelance

“Youmaybe certain I came not from me
tives of friendship, senor.”

“ Ha! then why raise the white ﬂag?” demann
ded Ricardo, nervously.

“ U the principle of ii hting the devil with
ﬁre. didnotwishtobe ownoutof the wa-
ter by your guns, and I was determined to see

on

“ How can I serve you, Ca tain Freelance?”
“ That is to the t. on captured the

Vera Cruz and New leans packet, Sea Gull, a
short while since.”
“Yes, and she was hardly worth the powder

I burned to bring her to.”
“1am not asking you to share, Captain Ri-
cardo, so I care not for her worth, though I hap—

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Freelance, the Buccaneer.

 
pen to know that she was carrying a rich
freight. Were there any women or children on
board, senor.”

“ I do not admit your right to uestion me
regarding my captures, Captain reelance,”
sullcnly said the Spaniard.

“It is a right that I will take, senor, especial-
ly as you might be enriched by a ransom.”

“ Ah! N 0, there were no women and chil-
dren on board—yes, one woman, the captain’s
wife, and another, the ship’s stewardess.’

“ Well, what became of those two?”

“ The captain’s wife was killed, and the stew-
ardess went on with the ship, which I released
ipon ransom.”

“‘vVith all her crew and passengers?”

“ Excepting a few I kept to serve me.”

“ Then there was no young girl on board?”

“ No; you have made a mistake, senor.”

“ I think not; you make a mistake in keeping
back the fact that you have a maiden captive
for whom you can get a very large ransom.”

“I have no such captive, I tell you.”

“Ricardo, you lie in your false throat, and I
swear to you, if you have banned the maiden, I
will swing you up to the yard-arm of your own
Vessel.”

Freelance spoke in deadly earnest, and in an
instant both men were upon their feet, Ricardo
livid with rage.

“ Caramba I Do you dare me in my own
den?” he elled. -

“Yes, have come here for that maiden. and
1 will have her. If dead, or harm has befallen
her, you shall die!”

Ricardo attempted to draw a pistol, but like a
ﬂashgl‘reelance struck it from his hand with his
svvor .

“ You are in my power, Ricardo, and our
quarrel must be settled new and here. I have
offered you ransom for a captive, and you re-
fuse it.”

“ I tell you I know of no such captive. There
is a. nun t at I took some weeks ago on the way
to Havana from New Orleans, and she is the
Mly woman worthy of ransom that I have.”

‘ Again I.say
tn have the wlptive or your life.”

“ Captain reelance, on are wild. I have
but to give an alarm an a score of men will
hurl themselves upon you.”

“ Sound that alarm and it will be your death-
knell, for I will run you through the heart.”

The savage buccaneer nailed, and his hand
on his cutlass-hilt tremble for he felt that he
was in the power of a dangerous man: so he

lsam, whini 1y:

“Captain reelance, you hold the advantage
over me.”

“ Do I ? Well, call your men, and I pledge
you I will not harm you.”

In surgrise at his chan e of tactics, and yet
half-don ting, Ricardo p need a whistle to his
lips and gave a shrill blast. ,

Instan y the sounds of running feet were
heardlasproaohing: but with a smile upon his
lips, a folded arms, Freelance stood silently
awaiting their coming.

The next moment a number of men came i who harmed a child in his presence, was certain
down a path at a run and halted by the cabin,  to feel the deadly weight of his sword.

drawn cutlasses in their hands.

 
l

on lie! and I am determinedl

x

l

1 though a

l
l

l

l

tempted to strike him in the back, but he knew
his own men would at once turn against him,
while, although Freelance was a dangerous ad-
versary, he hoped that he might slay, him in the
hand-to hand conﬂict which he now felt was un-
avoidable.

Slowly toward the beach the two leaders and
the crew moved, and messengers were sent to

ather all to the scene of combat, while Free-
nce hailed his schooner and bade his men come
ashore.

In wonder and excitement the buccaneers
ﬂocked to the spot, where Ricardo stood with
livid face and somewhat nervous manner, and
lIf‘reehamce paced to and fro, a cigar between his

ips.

As the eager crowd peered around Freelance
said. as he lanced over the numerous faces:

“ Lads, aptain Ricardo and myself have a
cause of quarrel between us, and I have chal-
lenged him to ﬁght it out with any weapons he
may desire: am I right?”

A cheer from the crowd answered, and throw-
ing aside his uniform coat, in which he delight—
ed to make display, and taking a sword, handed
him bya buccaneer lieutenant, Ricardo signiﬁed
his readiness to meet Freelance, who advanced
upon him rapidly his own blade on guard, and
his dark eyes ﬂashing ﬁre.

CHAPTER XXIII.
THE BA'rrLE or THE BUCCANEERS.

As Freelance advanced to the attack 11 11
Ricardo the crews of the different lea ers
gathered around with the deepest interest to
see these two rival buccaneers settle the quarrel
between them with the sword.

The followers of Ricardo knew Freelance well
b name, and he had the reputation of being a
kind-hearted and generous leader, though a se—
vere disciplinarian, and the manner in which he ‘
was driven to buccaneerin by outlawry they
were acquainted with, wh' e his capture of one
of Laﬂtte’s fastest schooners some years before,
his running the desperate gantlet past the Castle
de Uloa, and many other tales of his great cour-
age and prowess, were common forecastle stories. l

On the other hand, self-interest and protec- :
tion held many of them under the leadership of
Ricardo. whom most of them hated, while only
afew of his own cruel kind cared to remain i
with him from choice.

As for the crew of Freelance they respected l
and admired him, for his wounded were never ‘
thrown into the sea as useless, after having l
nobly fou ht for .him, but taken care of, and,
1d sea robber, striking wherever
there were spoils to gain, or a battle to be won, !
and apparentl loving scenes of desperate con- 3
ﬂict, et they ad never known him to be inten- 1
tiona y cruel, but one who punished all acts of ,‘
inhumanity severely.

A man whose life was a mystery to them, and ,
one whom they felt had suffered much, he was 1
full of inconsistencies of character, for a lion in .
battle, he was womanly in his softness of man- ,
ner to the defenseless, and sympathetic to those ;
in distress; and the insulter of a woman, or one

 
As the two blades came together the sparks ,

“Men, I caused your ca tain to call you, for l ﬂew from the steel, and seemingly in the ﬁrst l

he seemed afraid to be a one with me, and I
wished you to hear what I have to say.”

“You mistake, senor; I fear no man,” yelled
Ricardo, emboldened by the presence of his
men.

Freelance smiled, and continued:

“I came here, my lads, to ransom a lady
whom your captain holds captive, and as he

’ 18118:: she is not here, and I know that she fell '
n.

his hands, I now challen e him to meet me
face to face as a man, and if fall by his hands,
yonder vessel is his, and my crew shall yield him
allegiance; if he falls by my hand, then I shall
be your chief. Captain Ricardo, you can select
your own weapons.”
Ricardo at once saw how he had been entrap-
ged by Freelance, for he well knew that he must
ght or forever lose caste with his men, as they
would look upon him as a coward and brand
him as such.
It was toolate now toregret havin called the

men, and he was in a quandary who. to do: but .

jum like a drewnin man, at a straw.

“ ptain Freelance, will give you full per-
mission to search the island, and if you find the
lady here you may have her without ransom,”
he said. '

“No, for if she is not here, you have otten
rid of her.
you before your crew as a base coward. Am I
not fair, men?”

“ Av, ay, senor!” yelled the men in chorus,
and Ricardo saw that the seed sown was alread

bringing forth bad fruit against him, for hi); '

i
I
l

 
You shall meet me, or I shall rand ;

l

mengknew him to be a desperate band with the :

sword, for he was both powerful and skillful:
besides, he was very un pular as a commander,
and many he that reelance would kill him
and become t eir chief, for they did not all pos-
sess the brutal nature of their savage captain.

“ Ricardo, we will adjourn to the beach, and ,

there our duel can be witnessed by your men
and inc. Come!”
Iii-glance turned away, and Ricardo was

steadily he was pressed

stroke both men had measured the strength 1
of each other. . ‘ [

Taller than an opponent, heavier by far, and
gossessed of great strength, Ricardo had little r

readed the combat for he was ambitious to I
become the commander of the swift and stench '
vessel of Freelance, and thereby add to his pro-
tection from cruisers: but when he threw all
his power into his arm, and felt that his adver-
sary’s blade did not yield, he became aware
that he had met his match physically, and must 1
conquer wholly by hisskill as a swordsman, and ‘
his face showed that he intended some cunning
device with the weapon of which he certainly
was master.

As for Freelance his face here its habitual
stern, unmoved look; but his e es seemed to
read his an onist, and every eint made by
him was antic] ted and parried. i

Scein that t eir leaders appearedtobe equal- '
1y mate ed, the men became more excited and l
crowded around, forming a small ring in which .
the fierce struggle was goin on, while upon
the hillside, some distance 0 , a small group .
were witnessing the battle of the iants. I

From having acted upon the efensive, and
leading not on y Ricardo but the men to believe i
that he was not the uni of his ferocious an- ‘

tagonist, Freelance su denly began the offensive

to the surprise of all, and a cheer went up from
his own crew, which was jomcd in by many of
the Island Buccaneers.

At this new exhibition of his enemy’s skill,
Ricardo’s evil face turned livid once more, and
he fought with the ferocity of desperation; but
back, the crowd iving
wa , until, throwing his whole strengt and ,

ski 1 into his movements, Freelance beat down .

the weapon of his antagonist and drove his own

a blade through his body.

pain, broke from the bloodless lips of

A cry, like that of a wild beast in fri ht and
icardo,

l and, as he fell to the earth in a heap, he yelled, ,

with savage viciousnees:

“ Cut the dog in pieces, you gaping devils! cut
him down, I say, for he has killed me!”

A number of his crew sprung forward as
though to obey, when, in trumpet tones, the
voice of Freelance areas above the din and con-
fusion:

“ Hold! don’t press me, devils!”

As he spoke, with drawn sword and pistol in
the other hand, be confronted those who were
antagonisticto him, and they shrunk back be-
fore his blazing eyes.

“Cowardsl if you fear to avenge your chief,
1 will revenge myself.”

As the dying Ricardo spoke, he threw forward
a. pistol he had drawn from his bosom and pulled
the trigger, ere Freelance could turn upon him.

But. suddenly, a slender form darted forward
and kicked up the muzzle of the weapon, and
the bullet went above the head of the man for
whom it was aimed,.while Ricardo. with a bit-
ter oath, sunk back in the agonies of death.

“ Ha, my ﬁne fellow, you turned that ball
from my heart. Henceforth We are friends,”
and Freelance turned toward the one who had
kicked up the pistol that had been sowell aimed,
and saw before him a outh of eighteen, with
black curling hair, cut: ort, and aface that was
strikingly handsome. while a slight mustache
shaded his mouth.

He was dressed in white duck pants, anda
dark, loose sack coat, and wore a jaunty sailor

ca .

Row, as the youth grasped the band extend-
ed to him. he hung his head, and seemed con-
fused, and answered, ina low tone, when asked
who he was:

“I am cabin-boy on the vessel of Captain
Ricardo, senor.”

“ You are young for a buccaneer, and do not
look like one acoustomed to scenes of a wild na-
tureﬂ

“I am a captive, senor, and not from choice
one of the pirate band,” was the low reply.

“ He was taken on the Sea Gull pac et ship,

I heerd er axin’ about er honor,” said an En-a
_ 9

gljshman, advancing.

“ Ah!” and Freelance gazed more intently in-
to the face of the youth, and said, kindly:

“Go on board my Vessel, my boy; I will soon
be there.” >

The youth turned away, and Freelance step-
ped forward and leant over Ricardo.

“ He is dead. Men, those who do not wish to
serve under me, say so frankly, and you can
leave the island in one. of those rize vessels
yonder,” and he faced the sea of aces gazing
upon him.

There was a moment’s silence, and then, as
no dissenting voice was heard, one of Ricardo’s
lieutenants cried:

“ A bravo, lads, for Captain Freelance l”

Instantly a wild cheer went up from the
crowd, and raising his hat, Freelance said, as he
turned to the buccaneer officer who had so
promptly sided with him, and who was an old,

ay- aired iard who had doubtlem been

rn to a far iﬂ‘erent life from the one he fol-
lowed:

“ Grades, senor; I will make on comman-
der of this island, which I will me e my strong-
hold: and, Senor Miguel!”

“Si senor caption,” and the young lieuten-
ant ste ped forward.

“I p are mu in command of Ricardo’s ves-
sel,” and ca lin to the youth, who had not yet
gone on board t e schooner, he continued: .

“ I would see the captives that Ricardo
brought here, my boy.”

“ I will lead you to them—they are there on
the hillside, senor,” and the youth )ointed to
the little up that had watched combat
with such interest.

There were not a dozen of them—e few men
who were held for ransom, others whom Ricar-
do had not known what to do with, and an em-
cer of the United States navy, captured on board
the Sea Gull. '

“My friends, you shall be at once set free.
and given money to reach your homes—for,
though a buccaneer, I am not a monster.”

A cry of thanks went up from all, while the
naval officer stepped forward and said:

“ Senor. I have been told that you are Free-
lance the Freebooter; In fact, I recognized your
ﬂag and schooner, for I have often met you in
my cruises.” .

“ I am Freelance. 811‘,” was the quiet answer.

“Then you have been shamefullv maligned,
for rumor makes you out very diﬂerent man
from what you are,”nnd there were admire
tion and respect in the oﬁcer’s glance as h(
gazed upon the splendid-looking man before

1m.

“ I am what cruel Fate has made me, sir—a
free rovor, a hunted man,” and he turned ab
ruptly to the youth:

In {ﬁre these all of Ricardo’s captives, my

(

“Excepting myself, scnor, and one other, a
nun, who is in the cabin in the valley.”

“I will seek her. My friends, go on board
my schooner at once. for 1 will sail to-night and
place you on the ﬁrst inward-bound vessel we
meet,” and Freelance walked toward the cabins
in the valley, followed by the youth, who seem-
ed not to Wish to leave his side.

Freelance, the Buccaneer.

19

 
U:

" My lad, run on and tell the good lady that
F reelance would see her, but to dread nothing.”
the youth dashed ahead and entered one of
f.) a huts, while Freelance followed more leisure-

y.

A s be a preached the lli’wOl‘ a. woman clad in
the item 0 a nun, stepped out of the calyi and
the long vail being thrown back the eyes 0 the
two me .

A wild cry broke from the lips of the man,
and he staggered back, covering his face With
his hands, as though to shut out some hideous ;
specter, while the woman sunk down upon the 5
(round in a deep swoon.

 
CHAPTER XXIV.
THE NUN.

Court.va taken aback by the unexpected
recs 'tion between Freelance and the pun, the
yoth hardly knew what to do: but seeing that
the latter most needed his aid he sprung to her
dde, and raised her head from the ground.

 
lit was a strangely beautiful face, white and

pu re as marble, and inexpressibl ‘

the view, and bending over her t e youth gazed l

with a strange interest 11 n her, while afew

lent away stood Freelance, is hands still over
1' I 9 es, and his form trembling. .

‘ nor, the lady needs aid. There Is water

in the cabin.” said the youth, hoping to arouse :

1m.

Instantly the buccaneer sprung forward, and,
kneelin . drew the form of the nun toward
him w ile he muttered, in an absent way:

“ believed her dead; I believed her dead, yet ;
slm lives—lives, yet as she is, dead to me—dead }
to me!" I

Relieved of his burden the oung man ran ,
mm the cabin and soon return With a vase of
water and began to bathe the white face. I

A sigh, a gasp and the eyes opened and met :
those of the youth bendin over her. ' '

“ It was a dream then; e is not a pirate—no, ‘
so, he could not be so vile,” she murmured, and t
then her glance suddenly rested upon the man
in whose arms she was supported.

With a bound she was upon her feet, her i

hands war ' him off, asshe cried: .
“ Oh. b Vir in, it is too true, too true!— 1

tie is the monster, reelance.” I
“ Lucille!”

The name was breathed softly, and Freelance
made an imploring gesture.

“ Back! back, sir pirate! how dare younpo]-
luted hands touch me? Do on not see I am in
the robe of one who has yie ded up forever the ,
world and its follies?” ;

“ Lucille, hear me .say that I thank the God .
to whom you kneel 1n rayer, that you live—
that our death lies no “ppm m hands, as I l
have awn ht since that f ul nig t.”

“No, I drove the d ger to my own bosom. ‘
Would to God it had kil ed me, for then I would 3
have never known that Lanncelot Grenville had 1
become a buccaneer—that the man I once loved a
as I did my soul had won the infamous name of
Freelance, the Freebooter.” i

The voice trembled, and the eyes were lower- l
\d as she spoke, and the man answered, sadly: I

“Lucille, I oﬂer no palliation for my deeds. 3
I was the toy of an evil destin , and have blmd- ,
iy followed wherever Fate 1 nae—followed it r
to my sorrow, and the loss of my soul; but, un- .
t" the da our father fell by my hand—”

“Hold. celot Grenville, I never knew ,‘
for a long time—no, not until I was recovering ’
fn im the wound I gave myself, that mght at my ’
father’s grave, that you had acted nobly in that ‘
fal a1 meeting and twice spared my father 5 life. I

' 'In my WI d grief I was ungenerous to you, V
and I cursed you, for my low turned to hat-1 ed;
but; that is past now, and since then I have
mourned you as-dead—and dead you are t) me,
any.”

Unconscioust she had repeated the very
tvo rds he had spoken of her, and a shudder
«hcok her frame as she looked up and caught his ‘
rycs ﬁxed upon her. ' .

"Thank Heaven. you do me justice in that
“‘0 Lucille,” he said, earnestly. _ I

‘ I do more than justice, Lanncelot; I forgive -
: m. ’

[He would have sprung to her side. but her ;
lock held him at bay, and he said, in a vorce '
hardly audible: I

“ From my inmost heart I thank ou, Luelllc;
I had, as the slaycr of your father, lichd that .
l was your destroyer, too, after we met that ‘
night at his grave, and bitter indeed has been f
the cup of misery held to my lips ever smw;
but now life’s horizon is brightening for me, i
and-”

“ Hold! Lanncelot Grenville, can the horizon
of life over brighten for Freelance the Pirate l"

Her voice rung out clear, and u n her face ‘
was a look of scorn, which the gin ty man dare !
not meet, and he bowed his head in an agony of '
shame.

After a moment, he spoke: . .

“ No, I had forgotten, in m Joy at secmg you ,
alive, and receiving your orgivencss, who I
was-no, there is no hope, no brightness in my
life—only gloom and despair.”

She felt that her words had crushed .out a
new-born hope, and there was deep pity in her

 
sad, that met i

 
heart, as she stepped to his side and laid her
hand upon his arm.

“ You reproach me for my words, Lanncelot,
and I ask on to forgive them; but oh, for years
even in t e convent walls, have been told
stories of Freelance the Frecbooter and his
deeds—no, no, they cannot be true—you are
not, cannot be the hideous monster they have
painted ou.”

“ Luci le, I am bad enough, God knows, but I
am not as bad as the world would make me;
my hands are red with the blood of my fellow-
beings and the treasure I have won is dyed
with the current of human life; yet 1 could be
worse, I could be worse.”

He shook oil? the hand 11 n his arm and turn-
ed away, to instantly again confront her:

“You have forever given up the world, Lu-
cille?”

“ Yes. I went into a convent as soon as I re—
covered from my wound.”

“ You are at what convent?”

“I was sent to Havana, but am now return-
ing toﬂthe Convent des Ursulines at New Or-

eans.

“ I will restore you to your Cloister, and will
give to you a vast sum of gold for charity.”

“ It is blood-stained, Captain Freelance."

“ All gold is blood~stained, and all gold is ac-
cursed, even that which goes into the coffers of
the church,” he said, almost savagely.

Then he added, coldly:

“ Whenever you are ready to go on board the
schooner I am at your service.”

“ Lanncelot, (you are angry with me now.
Forgive me, an forget that have crmsed your
path again; only, and I entrcat you by the past,
and by your mother’s memory—by the memory
of your father whom my father placed in his

 grave, and by your hope of a hereafter, to cease
I this life you

ead!”

She placed both hands upon his shoulders, and

gazed up into his dark face entreatingl , and
or a moment he seemed deeply moved; t en he
said hoarsely:

" The past cannot be wiped out; the tears of
myriads of angels could never wash out my
sins: as I have sown, so will I reap! I am dead
to the world, Lucille, and myself. Come!”

He offered his arm but she shrunk from him,
but slowly walked by his side, having drawn
her vail around over her face.

Behind them, a few paces, came the youth,
whose presence seemed to have been forgotten
by both of them.

Arriving upon the beach the men ave three
cheers for their new chief, and Luci 1e shrunk
away and walked hurriedly to the boat in wait-

m .

giving his orders to the island commander,
and to Alvez Miguel, who was to remain in the
harbor until his chief’s return, Freelance sprung
into the boat, and ten minutes after the schooner
was standing out of the inlet under easy sail,
and heading toward the o 1) sea; while upon
her decks were the rescu ca tives, happy in
their escape from the power of icardo.

 
CHAPTER XXV.
THE FATAL SHOT
“ San. ho!”
It was the cry of the look-out from the mast-
head of the buccaneer schooner, the morning

I after leaving the island stronghold.

Freelance was pacing the deck, and had,
throu h the whole nigﬂf, been keeping up that
mono nous walk, w ' e his passengers, as he
lcalled Ricardo’s captives, slept in his cabin be-
ow.

N 0, not all of them for one lay awake listen-
ing to that ﬁrm, steady tread on the deck, and
well knowing whose step it was, and it echoed
d Lemall y in her poor heart, and sent her thoughts

. ﬂying back to the long ago on the Mississxppi

shores, and bitter, scalding tears ﬁlled her eyes,
as she compared that past with the present.

“ Sail ho!”

The cry was repeated ere Lanncelot looked
up, and turned his glass upon the white wing
far awa on the horizon.

Steadily he watched it as it increased in size,
and the topsails of a large brig became visible.

“She does not look like a merchantman, sir:
but if she is, I will place you all on board of

‘. her,” said Freelance, handing his glass to the

naval ofﬁcer, who replied, after a searching look
at the stranger:

“ No. Ca tain Freelance, she has a cruiser-like
look from er top-hamper; but could you not
approach under flag of trues?”

“ No nation, sir, will respect a pirate’s ﬂag of
trlufc ” shortly answered Freelance, and he
8. ( 2

“ I hope she is a merchant, for I know you are
anxious to be well rid of such company as you
meet on the deck of a huccnncer.”

“ You certainly should feel proud of your ves-

‘ so] and crew, as far as appearances go, captain,

for there is no better discipline in our navy.” '
“I have to rule with an iron hand. sir, or be
ruled: the commander of a liuccaneer craft car-
ries his life in his hand; let him waver and he is
lost. I believe that yonder Vessel is really a
merchant craft, running in to New Orleans. I
will head toward her,” and the schooner was at

 
once put away so as to cross the bows of the
strange sail. ‘

At this maneuver of the buccaneer t-he stran-
ger instantly fell off from her course, more sail
was spread, and she darted away in ﬂight.

“She is not a ﬁghter, Captain chforth.
You will soon cease to be a pirate’s guest, for
mj schooner will show you how she can run.
Crowd on sail, Senor Hernandez,” cried Free-
lance. addressing the ofﬁcer who had taken Al-
vez Miguel’s place, and who had been the senor
lieutenant of Ricardo.

Under the pressure of canvas the schooner?
fairl ﬂew through the waters, and although
the rig was a rapid sailer began to overhaul

er.

“That fellow looks as though he had teeth.
I hope he is not playing a game on me, for I
would dislike to ave a ﬁght with guests on
board,” said Freelance.

Nearer and nearer the schooner drew to the
brig, until little over half a leagpe separated
them, and the passengers who ad come on
deck were expecting Soon to be out from under
the shadow of the black ﬂag.

“ Your glass, please, Captain Freelance,” sud-
denly said Captain chforth.

It was handed him and he bent a long and
scaé‘ching glance upon the brig, after which he
sai -

“Captain Freelance, did I not warn you of
danger I would not do my duty toward a man
who has rescued myself and friends from a
cruel captivity, has treated us with the greatest
kindness, and is now running his head into the
hangman’s haltertoserveus; yonder craft is
an American brig-o '—war."

“ I half thought so, and I thank you, Captain
chforth; you have proven yourself a true and
humane man. Fire a gun over the brig, Senor
Hernandez, and run up our colors,” coolly said
Freelance, showing no emotion at the startling
news.

“ What! you cannot mean to ﬁght him?” cried
Captain Rainforth.

“ We are near enough to feel his weight, Cap—
tain Rainforth, and as we will have to ﬁght I
may as well capture him. and then place you on
board and send you to New Orleans, where he
would doubtless go to repair damages.”

At that instant the gun ﬂashed over the
schooner’s bows, and the old lance ﬂag and red
anchor ensign arose toget er into the air.

Instantly the brig swept round: the stars and
stripes went up to her peak, and the drums beat
“ to quarters.’

“ I wamed 'ou, Captain Freelance: I have
done my dut , ’ said Captain Renforth, and he
added, as t e buccaneer crew stripped the
schooner for action, and went to their guns:

“ That is the Dolphin brig-of-war, twenty two
guns, and commanded by an ofﬁcer lately pro-
moted for gallant conduct against the Moorish
afiilfll Algerine corsairs; his name is Arthur Gren-
v 9.

At that moment a cry broke from the ii of
Lucille the nun, who stood near, and Free ance
said, hoarscly:

“ In Heaven’s name? who did you say?”

“ Captain Arthur Grenville.”

“ Stand ready, all! Ready about! Leave
your guns, you devils, and crowd the canvas on
until you run the schooner under!”

All were startled by the rim ' , almost wild
tones of Freelance, as he issue he orders, and
the crew sprung to their posts with an alacrity
that sent the schooner round as though on a
pivot, while the extra sail, short] before taken
in, was spread again, and the so 1ft vessel diove
throu h the sea with fearful velocity.

As or Captain cht‘orth he knew not what to
make of the sudden change in the plans of F: ee-
lance, but felt that it was no fear to meet the
bri , only that the name of Arthur Grenville

in some way struck terror to his heart.

In the meantime the brig was not idle, but
had swept about, too, and was crowding sail in
hot pursuit.

Seeing that she was going to open ﬁre, Free-
lance requested his guests to go below, and they
did so, excepting Captain Renforth and the
youth, who stood by the side of the chief.

A moment more and the puﬁ.’ came from the
brig’s bows, and the shot came ﬂying after the
schooner.

Then, hot and fast the cruiser poured in a ﬁre
upon the ﬂying buccaneer, some of the shots.
telling u n the rigging, crew and bull, for they
were we aimed.

Calmly, and with a smile hard to fathom up
on his face, Freelance stood gazing at the up
preaching vessel, while his crew ooked npou
gin], wondering why he did not hit back at the

rig. ‘

“ You do not return the ﬁre' of the brig, sir,"
said Captain Renforth as the murmuring of the
men reached his ears.

“No, I will never ﬁre upon yonder vessel,”
was the stem rcpl .

The men heard his words, and their voices
grew louder, while a shot sent crashing through
forward, dro pod several of their number dead
upon the den .

Instantlythey pressed aft, andan angry voice
exclaimed:

*“ Captain Freelance, we won’t be she: down

  
i

l
l-
'l
i

..—._.A._,V T--s~

,. «kg.

' lance returned to the deck and mechanically

‘Itoo‘great for the range of the n .

' wounded, Captain Freelance.

   
2O

Freelance, the Buccaneer.

 
like dogs, when, if ou give the word, we can
capture yonder cra t.”

“ Silence, and back to your posts you mutin-
ous hounds, or by the blue sky above us, I’ll lay
to, and surrender this schooner to- yonder brig.
and put my neck in the noose with yours.”

The men saw the blazing eyes, and they knew
the dweight of that single arm, and, one voice
'Cl‘le :

“The ca t’in knows best, lads; he’ll fetch us
through a! right.”

Quietly the men shrunk back and stood calm-
ly at their posts, while the brig’s shot ﬂew
dangerously near their heads; but the schooner
was gradually forging ahead, and if not hit in a
vital spot, would soon be out of ran 9.

Suddenl a shot crashed through t e deck, just
beneath t e feet of Freelance, and a moment
after a deep groan came from the cabin.

“ The mm is wounded and would see you, sir,”
said one of the passengers, poking his
face up out of the com anionway.

“Great God! Lucile, am I doomed to lead

cu to death?” groaned Freelance, and he quick-
y descended into the cabin.

Fhere upon a divan stained with her life-
bl >od, lay Lucille the nun, a splinter having
9i arced her side.

l‘hat she was dyin there was no doubt and
w .th an effort she be d forth her hand to Free-
le rice as he entered.

“ Launcelot, the end has come. I thank
Heaven that it is so, for I was tempted, in see-
ing you once more, to forget the past, forget
What you are and—and—love—you. ’

She spoke in a low tone audible to him alone,
".8 he knelt by her side and grasped her hand.

“Oh, Lucille, do not speak of the past and
fol the future I have no hope,” he said. sadly.

“ Launcelot—promise me—oh, God! I have
not the strength to ask you—” a shudder passed
over her, her face became ashen in hue, and one
word broke from her 1i as the breath left her
bod -the saddest of al words—farewell.”

'l' e haughty head of the pirate chief was
bowed for an instant and in hoarse tones he
muttered:

“At last! at last! one by one they go and I
am left—why?”

Throwinga silken scarf over the face, Free-

3wegt his eyes around him.

T e brig was still ﬁring upon the schooner,
but her last shot that had struck had been the
fatal one, for the distance was now becoming

 
s
heard that the beauti ul nun is badly

“ She is dead, sir,” said Freelance, in reply to
Captain Renforth.

"Sail ho!” rung out from the fore-top, and
{List in their course was a large vessel heading

ward them; but soon after the schooner was
discovered by the stranger and immediately
put away in rapid ﬂight.

“Yonder craft is a merchantman Captain
Renforth, so you and your friends wil soon
upon an honest dec ,” said Freelance, and so
rapidly did the schooner gain upon the chase
that within two hours after being discovered a
phat was sent after her, and taking the hint she
.a to.

5‘: Her commander evidently thinks you are a
cruiser, Captain Freelance, or he would havo
rtood on longer,” said Captain Renforth.

In a minute a boat was launched and manned
and the passengers went over the side into it,
each thankin Freelance for his kindness to
them while aptain Renforth said:

“ The Government shall know of you as you
)re Captain Freelance, and I hope we may meet
a ;ain. Good-by.”

The two men hands, and the next mo-
ment the boat ull to the side of the ship.

“ Hasten bac , coxswain for if we delay we
‘wrlleﬁet under range of t e brig once more,”
call out Freelance, and the men ulled with a

will, and soon returned, having lef the passen-
gers on board.

“ N ow lav her on her course again—head for
Vera Cruz,” ordered Freelance, and he descend-
ed into the cabin to start back, suddenly.

" You here? Why did you not go with the
others?"

It was the youth he addressed, and he sat by
are side of the dead Lucille.

“I preferred to remain with you, senor,” was
the low reply.

“My poor boy, a buccaneer craft is not the
place for one like you,” said Freelance, kindly.

“ Nor you, senor.”

. “True; but go on deck, and tell the Senor
i'leruandezto have all read for the burial of ,
:his lady as soon as it is dar .”

The youth left the cabin, and Freelance took ?
"is seat by the side of the beautiful co , his
hand resting upon hers, and his eyes gag]: list-
lessly out o the stern port.

Thus sitting, he saw the merchant vessel lay
to and await be coming up of the brig-of-war, l
commanded by his own brother, Arthur Gren- l
ville—that brother who, on the coast of Africa, I
years before, he had so befriended, and whom,

thou h he had never harmed him b word or

act, ﬁe cared never in to meet, for e shrunk i

 
from the thought wit horror that he should be ‘

known as a pirate, and bring shame upon his
proud name. .

Attentively regarding the two vessels, he saw
a boat pass to and fro between them, and then
they both got under way again and shaped their
course, apparent! , for New Orleans, the brig
having given up t e chase.

“ Can he know that I command this vessel?”

“No, that were impossible, I think, as he be-
lieves me dead. He has seen that it is useless to
attempt to catch my schooner, ﬂeet as is his ves-
sel,” and Freelance gazed out over the waters
at the fading brig—of-war until twilight settled
down upon the sea, and he could no onger dis-
cern an outline of the vessel that held his
brother.

Then out of the Gulf arose the moon, sending
a pathway of olden light across the rippling
waves, et on y deepening the sadness in the
heart 0 the hunted man.

Upon the lounge lay the dead form of Lucille
Darrington, her white face li hted u by 'the
rays of moonlight that came t rough he stern

rts

p0 .

With a green of bitter agonyegie dropped
down beside the woman who had n the rst
love of his life, and his strong form shock with
emotion.

“Dead! dead! and through my act! Oh,
Heaven! what a curse rests upon me, for my
hand blights every bein it touches, and my
love is more to be fear by them than my
hatred.

“ Poor girl! She survived that fearful wound,
given b her own hand at the grave of her
ather t at night, to die here in my presence;
she escaped the dan ers of bein the risoner of
that monster Ricar o, tomeet er eath upon
my vessel when I sought to save her—ay, and
die b the fire ordered by my own brother.

“ h, God! it seems as though were I to go
mad it would be a relief from the tortures I suf-
fer, for Fate drives me on with cruel lash and
there is no rest for me here on earth—ay, and
will there be hereafter?”

For a few moments he was silent, and then he
added, in a subdued tone:

“ Poor Lucille! Now we must part forever,
and the deep sea shall be your resting-place.”

Then springin to his feet he cried:

“No, no, no, t e sea shall not receive your
fair form—I will do it!

“ Ho! the deck!” he suddenly called out.

Lieutenant Hernandez immediately appeared
in the com nionway.

“ Senor ead at once for Lake Pontchartrain,
and crowd the schooner from deck to truck with
canvas!”

“ Ay, ay senor capitan,” answered the lieu-
tenant, and the schooner was at once put away
for the destination ordered, and getting the
wind free bounded along at a nine-knot pace.

CHAPTER XXVI.
THE MIDNIGHT BURIAL.

THE surf fell with a low, moaning sound upon
the Mississippi shores. and the lig t wind only
now and then formed a wave into a snowy ca ,
which broke into diamond showers under t e
bri ht moonlight.

9 lon sweep of the dark shores, lighted up
here and t ere with the villa of the planter, was
as qluiet as the grave, exce t when the long
how of some sleepless watch 0 echoed throng
the forest, and was answered y the deep bay
of a bound on the neighboring lplantation.

It was nearing the midnig‘ t hour, and the
lights had disappeared from t e windows of the
v
la

 
13s, and no sign of life was visible upon the

n .

Yet, upon the sea a white sail was seen—a

schooner gliding shoreward like some huge
hantom of the waves and headin foracove
ormed by a point of land that jut out into

the Gulf.

Nearer and nearer the vessel came, until,
when within, a few cables’ len h of the whive
beach, it luﬂed up into the w nd and lay rock-
ing u n the tiny waves.

A ew moments after a la boat put out
from its side, urged on by eig t oarsmen with
310W, steady stroke.

In the stem-sheets sat two forms, while be-
tween them rested a cofﬁn the rude casket
that was to be consigned to the earth with the
remains of some loved one.

Presently the boat grated upon the shore,
and the two men in the stern sheets sprung out
upon the sands, while four of the oarsmen
gently raised the cofﬁn and stood awaiting in
silence.

“ Come!”

It was the taller of the two men who had been
seated in the stern of the boat that spoke, and
his voice was deep and stern, and his face cold
and white, as the moonlight fell upon it.

Leading the way, his companion by his side
and followed by the bearers of the coﬂn. an
oarsmen brin ing u the rear, he ascended the
pathway to t e cli above, and halted a mo-
ment in a small ve of ines.

But only the s ghin o the wind through the
trees and the dirge- l 6 fall of the waves upon
the shore were heard, and he walked slowly on.

Coming to a highway he again paused and
glanced up and down, as though expecting, or

 
dreading to see some midnight traveler; but
not a moving ob ect met the eye, and the little
cortege again wal ed on with solemn tread.

Passing through a gateway, crumbling with
a e, the leader, as though knowing every step
0 the we , led on through the weed-grown
paths of w. at had once been a beautiful arden,
and skirted around the mansion whic stood
dark, gloomy and silent as the tomb, a short
distance away.

Crossing an open lawn, now rank with wild
grass, the party soon disappeared in the sha-

ows of a grove of willow, cedar and arbor-
vitae trees.

But the moonlight struggled through the fell-
age and glimmered upon white marble tombs,
showing that the lonely spot was a burying-
ground.

‘ ‘ Halt!”

The men obayed the order and placed the
rude] -made co 11 upon the und.

“ ere, men, get to work; dig the grave
here!”

The four oarsmen, who had been carrying
spades and shovels upon their backs, came for-
ward to the designated spot and began to dig a
grave beside one which was overgrown With
Weeds, showing that no loving hand had been
near to keep it green. ‘

One little ray of light fell u n the tomb, and
rested upon the name of red Darrington,
showing who it was that lay beneath the weed-
grown mound.

Quickly the men threw up the dark loam,
while their comrades stood in silence around,
all impressed by the scene.

Apart, zing upon the cofﬁn, his arms fold-
ed upon is breast, stood Freelance, and the

outh who was at his side started as he heard

he words break unconSc-iously from his lips:

“When I placed that man in his grave I
wrecked my whole future life.”

Deep down into the earth dug the seamen, un-
til the coxswain approached his chief and said
that all was ready.

“ Lower the coffin into the grave, coxswain
and then ﬁll it up,” was the low order, and
there was a tremor in the voice, in spite of the
self-command of the speaker.

“ No no, though I am not one of her faith, I
know the burial service for the dead; let me re-
peat it over her grave.”

It was the youth who spoke, and he gazed up
ear‘n‘serstlygnto the face of the chief.

‘ on!

“Yes, I am but a boy; but I hate to see her'
shut forever from human sight without some:

words of burial at her grave.’

The stem man started, and a sneer mo—~
mentarily curled his lip; but his better nature-
con uered, and he said in a kindly tone:

“ c on, boy. Hold, coxswain; this youth
will repeat the service for the dead.”

As he spoke he removed his hat, and the men
at once doffcd their tarpaulins, while the youth
stepped to the head of the o n grave, into
which the coffin was lows-re as tenderlyas
though the form within was yet alive.

Then in a voice that trembled slightly, but

which was distinct and impressive, the youth
repeated the burial-service of the Episcopal
church, and to the surprise of all, at the v Cids,
“ Earth to earth, and ashes to ashes,” Freelance
stooped and threw upon the cofﬁn handfuls of
loose dirt, which fell with a hollow, mournful
sbund that sent a chill through the hearts of
even the reckless men who stood grouped near
with uncovered heads.
' At last the outh’s voice died away and a
dead silence £6] 11 n all, which was broken by
the long, mournfu bowl of a dog at a neighbor-
ing lantation.

Fill in the grave!” said Freelance, uncon-
sciously starting at the dismal sound and the
men, seemin ly anxious to leave the spot,
sheveled in t e loose earth, and the grave was
soon complete.

Turning to the youth, whom he had named
Skip, upon account of his bright and graceful
Wa of moving, Freelance said:

‘ Lead the men back to the boat, and await
me there.”

Takin up their shovels the men slowly de-

artcd, ﬁeavin their chief gazing sadly upon
the newl -ma e mound.

When hey were gone he drew from beneath
his heavy cloak a wooden cross, and into which
was carved most skillfully the following in-
scription:

“ IN MEMORY or
“ LUCILLE.
“Keep yourselves from Idols."

This cross be laced at the head of the ve,
and then str e away with quick, ﬂrm grind,
his eyes cast down his lips set.

At the hi hway e paused and said, sadly:

“Oh, the I dared visit my boyhood’s home!
No, no it would unman me; iron heart that I
lliﬁvg, it would make me a weak child again.

!

He darted suddenl back into the shadow of
the glortwmundi h ge that bordered the road,
and crouched down in silence, as a horseman
appeared in sight, coming toward him at a slow

 
I
4
l
l

 
Freelance, the Buccaneer.

a 21

 
$_A_

 
trot, his e es turned u n the white sails of the
schooner ying to in t e cove.

‘ “It is Bernard Lysle,” came in ahiss through
the shut teeth of Freelance, and he arose to his
feet and grasped a pistol ﬁrmly in his hand.

CHAPTER XXVII.
anvn NGE IS swnn'r.

“ HALT! or I ﬁre!”

Startlineg clear and threatening the stern
order came upon the crisp air, frightening both
steed and rider.

But, before the horseman could dash away an
iron-like asp was upon his bridle-rein his
horse was urled back upon his haunches, and
at the rider’s heart pointed the muzzle of along
dueling pistol.

Taken at a disadvantage the horseman had
but one alternative—to surrender, and he said,
in trembling tones:

“ I will not resist, my good fellow; but what
means this attack on the highway?”

He was a man ver ' g on ﬁfty, and possessed
a large form and a ace that was stamped With
a certain look of cruelty and cunning. .

Well dressed, and mounted upon a ﬁne ani-
mal, he was evidently a man of wealth, and sup-

that a. desire to rob him had caused him
be thus halted.

“ Bernard Lysle, it means that you are known
to me, and Fate, ever cruel to me, has been
most kind to me to-night, in leading you into

my wer.”

‘ E1) God’s name who are you, and how have
I harmed you?” cried the now thoroughly
alarmed man. .

“Ha! ha! have the years of crime which I
have led so changed my face that you fail to
recognize the man whom you hated when he
was a mere boy, because he opposed your mar-
riage with his mother?”

“ Heaven have mercy] You are Launcelot
Grenville ” almost oaned the man; then he
added quickly: “ I t ought you were dead.”

“It would have been well for you had I been
dead. Yes, Bernard Lysle, I am Launcelot
Grenville that was; now I have buried that
name forever, as I have another which suits me
better.”

“I do not understand you, my dear Launce-
lot' on talk wildl , and do not seem well.”

‘1 ward! you ear me, and doubtless deem
me mad; but that I am not mad is not our
fault, for you it was who made me what am
and sodesired to put me out of the way that

oucausedmetobeaccused ofacrimetoobase
é: dwell on—caused me tc be tried for my
brother’s life and, sitting in judgment upon
me, you so inﬁuenced the jury that they brought
in a verdict of guilt against me—ay, and you
it was that senten me to be hung for havmg
slain Arthur Grenville, who came back after
my ﬂight to face you and hurl the lie into the
teeth of my accusers.” _ .

“ Forgive me, Launcelot; I decided With the
evidence, and knows I am sorry for it all,
and deli hted that you escaped from the term-
ble dea I sentenced you to.”

“ Your words areas false as your heart, Judge
Lysle' but come, dismount and go with me.”

“ ere!” asked the now thoroughly alarmed
man.

“ Do you see yonder schooner in the basin?”

u Yes.”

“ That is my vessel; I would have you accom-

me there.” _

“ en you are still in the Mexican servrce,
Launcelot, for I notice that it is a vessel-of-
we‘rl; I on] yself and m crew I

o serve y m ;
have no home but my deck, go with he winds
from north to south, from east to west, follow
no man’s lead, and own no country or ﬂag.”

“ Great heavens! you cannot mean that—”

“ Have you ever heard of Freelance the Buc-
cancer!”

“ es, often; we are in daily terror that he
will swoop down upon our .”

“ He has done so; I am Freelance the Buccap
near and whom men also call the Cavalier Cor-
sair

 
l,

Judge Bernard Lysle turned an ashen hue and
reeled in his saddle.

“ No no, Launcelot; it cannot be that you are
that 6 man.” _

“I the truth, and you are my prisoner,

J ad? ysle.

“ elp! help! for the love of God, help!”

The loud cry of the fri htened man run out
clear and distinct upon night air, an the
bark of a dozen watch-d answered it; but
over his mouth was p a hand of steel, an-
other clutched his t roat and he was dragged
from his saddle, wflrlihe a kick sent the horse rush-
in homeward at

. g‘Ah,m brave lads,you thought I wasin
danger. o I have captured a mann whom I
wishyoutobearatoncetothebost, ssidll‘rse-
lance. coolly and the man was drag
ged away, while Freelance slowly followed.

Gm“ “‘3’ £3...“ it” mwmti‘; so“
their cars an rap re,
and soon ran alongﬂde the schooner, which im-
media y stood seaward.

“Senor Hernandes, rig a platform amidships
and call the crew to witneu an execution,” was

 
the stern order of Freelance, as he ste on
deck, and he turned to Bernard Ly e, who
groaned as he heard the command.

“Judge Lysle, the sentence of death which
you would have meted out to me, I intend now
to visit upon you.”

“Mercy, Launceloti For Heaven’s sake have
mercy upon me.”

“ Did you show mercy to me when you had
me in your power? No! You desired me to be
removed from your way, behaving my mother
would marry you were I dead, and that you
would possess the property that was mine and
my‘ ﬁther’s. ad to

‘ appeal was in e you to post no my
sentence, and yet you refused it, and g: deliv-
ered our charge to the j that, as tools in
your ds, they pronounc me ilty of be-
ing a ve Cain, and that I esca death was
not our ault.

“ at I am that act of yours made me, and
revenge is sweet to me, and you shall die; you
angel)“ ten minutes to make your peace with

Turnin away Freelance paced the deck, his
face utter (y merciless, and his eyes cast down,
while the oomed man groveled in abject terror
at the fate he so feared to face.

Near b stood the youth, Skip, his face very
pale, an a look of pity in his eyes for the poor
wretch; et he dared not ask Freelance to spare
iiim, for ewell knew it would be utterly use-

888.

“ All is ready, senor capitan,” and Lieu-
tenant Hernandez ap roached his chief.

“Bind that man’s ds, and detail six sea-
men as executioners; he is to be shot.”

The order was obeyed, and then the lieu-
tenant called to Bernard L sle to accompan
him to the platform erec upon the lee b -
war .

“0h, Launcelot, spare me! I sinned dee l
in what I did to you, but be merciful and 331?:
give me. ”

No answer came to the epleading tones, and

the wretched man continu :
“ Launcelot, I entreat you, by the love you
bore our mother, ange‘your ather, to spare
me! on have not can to have a heart, so do
not let me die.”

Even the wild, sava crew were moved by
the pleading tones of t e man, and Ski hid his
face with his hands and ran into the ea in; but
Freelance was deaf to the entreaty, and in a
metallic voice he said:

“ You plead in vain Bernard Lysle; place

him in 'tion, Senor Hernandez.”

The s riskingl wretch was drag away and
placed 11 n e platform, in a eeling pos-
ture for is limbs refused to sustain his weight.

“ Ready there, men 1”

At the command of Freelance the six execu-
tioners raised their Weapons and the doomed
man broke out in a pitiful cry for mercy.

But it was useless; Freelance held no mercy
in hisheart.

“ Aim! Fire!”

A wild shriek, a volley of musketry, and Ber-
nard Lysle sunk in a heap u n the platform,
then attem ted to rise, and ell backward into
the sea, to ' pear forever beneath the dark
waters, while t e swift schooner rushed on, as
though anxious to leave in her wake the spot
where a human being bad sunk from life into a
grave far down beneath the waves.

 
CHAPTER XXVIII.
as menu arrow.

Ir was a dark misty night a few weeks after
the visit of the buccaneer so ooner to the Mis-
sissippi shores, and a fog like a heavy vail hung
over the sea, shutting out wholly from view
the lights of the city of Vera Cruz in the dis-
tant», and even the signal lanterns u n the
battlements of the Castle San Juan de oa.

Upon the waters rode at anchor a small ﬁsh-
ing-smack, her crew of three men busy with
their nets, and little dreamin of any vessel
near at hand, for they were no in the channel
leading into the harbor.

But suddehng, out of the dense gloom ap-
peared the s o outline of a large schooner,
and above her dec towered a mass of snowy
canvas, which brought to their lips a cry of
alarfzn and warning to those upon the strange

cra .
The sharp bows of the schooner swung quick-
ly clear of the ﬁshing-craft, just in time to pre-
vent running her down, and as the veael swept
:5 into the wind and lay to, a stern voice order-
the ﬁsherman to come alongside, an order
which was promptly obeyed.

“Theca n esto  Skip,show
the man in the cabin,” said or Hernandez,
gifting the commander of the ﬁshing-craft at

way.

“ , senor; but you Have us sterrible fright,”
said the Mexican, fo owing the youth who
ushered him into the schooner’s cabin, where
Freelance sat at a table, above which hung a
silver lamp.

Glancing u as the Mexican eMered, he said:

“My man, have been nightl on the watch
for some of you ﬁshermen, and have old to
pay fora service Iwishyou to non or me.

 
You are willing to aid me if I am liberal with
you, are you not?”

“ Si, senor capitan.”

“ Your little craft sails in and out of the har-
bor unchallenged, I suppose?”

“ No senor; we are challenged by the guard-
boats, but we are given the countersign when
we come out to ﬁsh.”

‘ I and you can run in and out of the
harbor at your will ?”

“ Si, senor capitan.”

“How many men have you on your craft
with on?”

“ y two sons only, senor.”

“ Very good: you will let them come on
board my schooner and await your return here,
while you run me upto Vera Cruz, for which
service I will give you a hundred 803.”

“ Oh, senor. ’ cried the deligh man.

“But listen: 1 go on secret business, and I
wish no one to know that I am in town, and I
will wear a storm suit like your own. If you
betray my presence to any one you will never
see your sons again, but serve me well and _I
will 've you another hundred pesos.”

" will serve on faithfully, senor capitan;
but you will not arm my (poor boys?”
“Not unless you inten harm to me. Go

and ,get your craft ready, and I will soon join
on

The ﬁsherman left the cabin, and a few mo-
ments after Freelance came on deck, dressed in
a boatman’s suit, and wearing a false beard.

f“ Sengr, please let me accompany you, I beg
0 on.
lance turned, and at his side stood the

youth.
Ha ' become attached to the boy, Free-
lance sai , kind

1 :
al“ Ri’g yourselfyout in a coarse suit and come
ong.

The youth gladly obeyed, and soon after the
old 63 erman, With his two passen ers, was
h ' through the loom toward era Cruz,
while a schooner too easy tacks under short-

ened sail.

Challenged by the rd-boats the Mexican
ﬁsherman replied wit the watchword for the
night, and said he was returning for his nets,
and in safety the little craft reached the docks, ‘
where Freelance and Skip sprun ashore.

“Await me here, my man. will be gone
perhaps an hour, and it may be longer: but re-

member, yon do not 3 of my coming, or a
schooner in the oiling! ’

“ I remember, senor; I love my boys too well
to‘get them into trouble.”

And gold too, I guess. Come, Ski .”

Up the dark street the two went, an as they
turned into one of the principal thoroughfares,
Freelance said, absently:

“ It is a sad duty I came here to perform, and
my heart aches to have to tell poor Delbanco I
can learn nothin of his da bter’s fate; but I
must not shrink m it,  though it be.”

Skip made no reply, or he knew it was a
habit of Freelance to frequently speak aloud
to himself, and a few moments’ longer walk
brought them to the J ew’s house.

It was not get midnight and Delbanco, who
had not retire , answered the knock promptly.

“It is too late, senor, for purchases,” he said,
abruptly, as his eyes fell upon the supposed
ﬁsherman.

“But not to welcome a friend, Senor Del-
banco,” said ce, stepping wross the
threshold.

“ The Senor—”

“ Hold! do not breathe that name here, Jew,
for Mexican walls are ﬁlled with ears. Come
in, Skip.”

“ And my daughter—m beautiful Juanita,
senor- you did not bring or?” said Delbanco,
as he led the way' into the salon.

“ My poor De banco, I will tell you all,” and
Freelance made known his visit to the island of
Ricardo, and the result.

“ The few captives I found there I sent on to
New Orleans by a merchant vesel excepting a
poor nun, who was killed by a at from an
American brig that chased me, and this youth,
who says he never saw a person answering your
dau hter’s description in the power of Ricardo;
Birth :3 you learned nothing yourself regard-

er

ENO, no, senor; those who went out on the
Sea Gull have not yet returned, and I am heart-
broken; my life has no value now, for the bright—
ness of existence has he from me,” and the
Jew bowed in bitter f.

“ Father! ”

“ Hark! My daughter’s voicgl She calls me!”

ee

andDelbancoshggeredtohis
“Father it was thatcalled you. See,1am

your Juanita.”

The youth nddenly confronted him, and
throwing aside the false mustache, Juanita Del-
baneo was revealed I

A m NOW.

In ecstscyof tth startungdisco
ofhis.dlearlybel {ﬁlingskm very

°' &W

youth Skip, the old Jew prued

 
i
l
r.

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_ A.» ;.1 "' . ~ ..

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 ....--.-- .--,.....c -

22

Freelance, the Buccaneer.

 
again to his heart, while Freelance, also taken
wholly aback, stood looking on in unfeigned
:Lill‘ )I'lse.

“10h, senor, you have then only been trying
to make my joy greater, by ﬁrst deceivingr ine,’
cried Dclbanco, “ and have indeed brought my
child back to my heart.”

“ Senor Delbanco, I have brought your child
back, yes; but I pledge you my honor, up to
iliis moment I believed her a boy, and she has
most cleverly deceived me, and all on board th
$31100” er. ”

“ Forgive me, senor, for the deception and for
ill I found out while in my disguise as your
cabin boy Skip; but I will explain how it was
that I assumed the disguise that has certainly
served me well.

“ When I sailed for New Orleans I carried
with me several disguises, not knowing what
might hap on to cause me to use them, and de-
termined, if overtaken by free rovers, not to ap-
pear in my true character.

“When our captain said it was Ricardo the
pirate chasing us, I got the stewardess to cut off
in long hair, and dressing in these clothes,
With the aid of a. false mustache appeared as a
youth of eighteen, and such all believed me, for

even escaped your searchin eyes, and Ricardo
believed he told the truth w on he said there
was no maiden answering my description cap
tured on board the Sea Gull.

“Consequently I was treated as one of the
male passengers, and not subjected to the in-
sults that would have been heaped upon me had
they known me to be a woman.”

‘ You acted with wonderful presence of
mind, senorita, and did perfectly right,” re-
marked Freelance, gazing with admiration up—
on her, as she continued:

“ To protect my good name I kegt 111? my
masquerade after we were taken to e irate
Island, and to you, Senor Freelance, I Owe it
that I am again restored to my father’s arms.
Am I forgiven the decgption, senor?" and
Juanita took the hand of reclance and gazed
up into his face.

“ I use too many disguises myself, and have
found them too useful, to feel hurt when others
deceive me in the same wa . You are more
than forgiven, senorita,” an Freelance spoke
meaningly, as he had not forgotten another
{Inaslqgerading freak of J uam'ta‘s, that had saved

is 1 0.

Almost stunned by all he heard, it was some
time before Delhanco could s ak; but at length
he found his tongue and ma 6 his daughter tell
him over and over again of her adventures, af-
ter which the three sat down to a sumptuous re-

ast.

After quite a. long stay, Freelance took his
leave of the kind Jew and his daughter, and as
he held the small hand of Juanita in his own, he
felt it tremble, while her eyes ﬁlled with tears,
for she had learned to madly love the strange,
handsome man, buccaneer though he was.

Leavin the Jew’s house, Freelance walked
rapidly a ong, and soon came to the home of the
Mexican wuman,where dwelt the only being that
held him to life—his boy.

He knocked upon the door, and it yielded to
his touch.

He entered, and all was dark within.

Then a low moan came to his ears, and he
quickly drew a. small dark lantern from his

ket.
p0€tht a sight then met his gaze—a sight that
made him reel like adrunken man, and a cry of
anmish burst from his lips.
pon the ﬂoor in front of him was Allene,
the nurse, and she was dead.
A wound was eiglon her temple, and her pulse
was forever still .
By the door, prone upon her back, lay the old
Mexican woman, gusting and dyinﬁ.’ .
Instantly he kne t si e her, an y the li ht
3f the lantern she recognized him in spite of iis
l ise.
‘ Too late. senor—too late! He is gone,” she

urmu

“ Gone! My boy! is he dead, woman 1”

“No, oh, no; some old enemy of yours—one
you once severely punished on your vessel, has
dogged your steps, and sought your boy. We
fought for him, but it was of no avail—he has
rone.

" And where?”

The voice was startlingly distinct, and the
eyes were lurid; but the face was now perfectly
c m.

“ He was a seamen senor; he carried the no-
Lie little fellow with him.”

“Then 11 the seas will I look for him, and
woe  the man that has done me this
“'I'O'D .

Rising to his feet he strode from the room and
the house, wholly, forgetful of the dying woman.
With 1' ' Step he retraced his way to the
home of t e ew, and. there Delbanco and Ju-
anita heard the strange story of his marriage to
a Persian, her death, and of the little boy.

“ Here Jew .here are ewels worth a king’s
ransom," and Freelance hrew a handful of pre-
cious stonesupou the table.

“Taketbose and let gold go out like, water,
but what,wa trace of my boy; I Will look
for him upon the sea.

in

 
“Find him, Delbanco, and I will make your
dau hter the wealthiest maiden in Mexico.

“ he dying woman and the dead nurse,
Allene, lie in the cabin—see to them.
well.”

He turned abruptl ' and left the house, and a
quarter of an hour for the ﬁ:;hennan’s boat
was: flying seaward, Freelance silent, stern, sor-
ro'ring, crouched down in the cockpit.

A rapid run and the little craft sighted the
schooner, and was soon alongside.

“ Your name?” he said, abruptly, as he sprung
on deck.

“ Pedro Ramez, senor captain.”

“ Then when you receive word from me, come
with your craft to the place. I disignate, and I
will enrich you. Here is gold for you.”

He tossed him a purse, containing more than
he had romised, and, as the ﬁshing-boat swung
loose, t 10 buccaneer schooner headed out into
the open Gulf.

CHAPTER XXX.
THE WAIF OF THE WAVE.

ADRIFT upon the ocean—~11 waif upon the wa-
ters—an oarless boat tossed about by the waves,
and within, a hideous crew—for four were dead,
and one seemed hardly alive, and his haggard
face, as the bright moonlight fell upon it, told
of his sufferings.

But succor is at hand, for, over the moonlit
waters, comes a larg? schooner, her sails spread
to catch the light rcezc, and her sharp prow
cutting the waves without a ripple.

Groups of men, in uniform, are u n the
decks, the guns are run out of the blac orts,
{edgy for action, and the craft hasa weir , wild

oo .

“A boat adrift ahead, senor,” calls out the
man in the foretop.

“Ay, ay; steer for it, helmsman,” was the
quiet answer, and the oﬁcer continued his steady
walk from starboard to port. .

Luffing up a few points as it passed the boat,
the men of the schooner seized the little craft,
and then almost let it go, with cries of horror,
as their eyes fell upon the hideous freight it
carried.

“There are four dead men and one alive in
the boat, senor,” reported a sailor.

“Throw the dead overboard, and carry the
living one into In cabin,” was the order, and
it was promptly o eyed, the dead bodies dash-
ing up the spray in silvery showers as they
struck the water.

“ He is in a bad way, senor, but aliker lad,”
reported a sailor who had aided in bearing the
survivor into the cabin.

With an effort the ofﬁcer seemed to arouse
himself from his deep reverie, and entered the
cabin, where a. slender, emaciated form lay
upon a loun e, the eyes wide 0 n and staring,
the face ﬂus led with fever, an the lips mutter-
ing in delirium.

‘Poor boy!” and the oflicer bent over him
and the light falling full upon his face displayed
the dark, stern visage of Freelance the Free-
bootor, grown more severe, harder, and with
the hair and mustache turned to iron-gray in
the ten years that have passed since the reader
last beheld him, the night he discovered that his
little son had been taken from him.

And in those ten years the name of Freelance
had become known far and wide as the most
daring freebooter aﬂoat, for seeming to bear a
charmed life, he had escaped every cruiser sent
in pursuit of him, and, though his island rendez-
vous had been attacked and destroyed, his other
vessels captured, he eluded all pursuit, and made
his name a terror uﬁon the land and seas.

As be bent over t 9 youth, a word that passed
the arched lips came to his ears.

“k Whin Hagen!  Easemewii thali]: he
spo e' e on , sprin as oug an
adder had struck at him.

A ain the li parted:

“ inane! gene!”

Instantly the boy’s woolen shirt was torn
open, and there above the heart, tattooed into
the white ﬂesh, was a blood-red anchor!

“Oh, Heaven, I thank Thee! my boy! my b0 *1
I have found my boy,” and bending over t e
emaciated form the strong man, whose name all
men feared, whose deeds of crime were untold,
and who defied death, sobbed as though his very
heart was torn asunder.

At length he ew more calm, and gazed lov-
ingly into the (1 face, hisown scarcely
less so.

“ Merle, my noble son, after ten lon ears I
have found ou— on, whom I believ , ' e all
others I h lov forevorlost to me.

“ Yes, there over your heart is the red anchor,
the emblem of your mother's race, which
tooed on you, 10 years ago in Vera Crur.

“Ah how my rt is stirred with joy thh
night; but I forget that you are weak and suf~
fearing), and your brow.bunis with fever; but
you s all not die—no I will not let you die,”
and Freelance, from that night, hung over the
bedside of his son, until he saw that all danger
was passed and that the boy would live.

“ as he will live,” he cried, joyously—“live
to ladden my heart.”

ut his brow at once clouded again.
“ Bah! my heart can know no joy, for I dare

001'
are-

 
u

not tell him that I am his father—that he owes
his being to Freelance the Buccaneer.

“ No, I will not tell him, and yet I will write
for him a confession of my life and tell him
what a toy Fate has made of me—what a waif
of the wave I have been, drifting like an oarless
boat upon a tempest-tossed sea.

“Then, if harm 1:.efalls me—and sooner or
later it must come—he will know who and What
he is, and I will enrich him beyond all men, for
I will tell him how to find the Treasure Isle,
which I left flint faithful slave to ard, years
ago, and which I have never had t 0 heart to
Visit since.

“Ah, but my boy will be a prince in riches,
w hen he receives the inheritance of his mother,
new hidden on the Treasure Isle, and the wealth
I leave him, and which has cost rivers of blood.
Bah! all gold is blood-stained, and every gem
we wear has graced ﬁngers that'are now but
bones.”

He turned away from his bitter contempla-
tions, and approached the lounge upon which
his son lay, wonderfully improved in the two
weeks he had been on the schooner.

“ Well, my young friend, you will soon be
yourself again,” he said, cheerily, gazing ear-
nestly upon the youth, who in face and form
was strangely like his father.

“ Yes, senor, thanks to your kind care; but is
this an American vessel-of war?”

“ No, it is a Cosmopolitan craft—sailin under
ever ' ﬂag that ﬂoats, but fighting un r but
one,’ recklessly answered Freelance.

“And that g is—”

“ One as black as the hearts of the men who
uphold it,” savagely replied the chief.

“Senor! can it be that this is a buccaneer?”
cried the youth in surprise. I

“ It is: am Freelance the Buccaneer.”

The boy started and gazed curiously upon the
man before him, and then there was admiration
in his look, as he said:

“The name is well known, senor, and yet,
after my kind treatment by you, I do not won-
der that you bear another name.”

“And what is that, pray?”

“The Cavalier Corsair; for it is said you ne-
ver harm a woman or a child, and war only
against men.”

“That is about the only truth ever told of
me. I am no monster in human shape, boy;
but, tell me, how was it I found you at sea in
an eopen boat, with four dead companions!”
ask Freelance, as though anxious to change
the subject of conversation. '

“ I was second mate of an English vessel, sir,
trading in the Indies, and we were wrecked in
a hurricane and had to take to our boats with—
out fcod or water and my companions died
from starvation and suffering.”

“ You have a strong constitution to outlive
men like them, and you are very young to have
been mate of a vesse .”

“I am as hardy as a pine tree, senor, and I
have picked u knowledge about the sea until I
am a good sai or,” modestly answered the boy.

“ And your patients, where are they i”

“ I have no parents, senor. Long years ago 1
remember having a home, and some terrible
scene, what I cannot recall, is connected with
it; but I have been, ever since a wee b0 , .1
sailor, knOcked about the world and dr' ting
fromﬂship to ship until I have no nationality, or
ﬂag. -

“ Then you shall remain with me, boy, and I
will be as a father to on. Do not say me nay,
but romise to re ,” and Freelance spoke
plea ingly.

Impressed by his stran
and thankful to him for w
him the youth, who
Merle answered: _ - »

“ bile I am With you, senor, I will serve

on all I can: but I be of you told; me leave
he schooner when g . opportunity offers, for
I look tca higher aim in life—forgive me if I
hurt you—than being a pirate.” .
“By Heaven! boy, your aim in life shall rise

, ear-nut manner,
t he had done for
name was

above a pirate deck and, are very lo I will
0 with y0u from the mad scenes in its has
Enown in the bitter t--I Will go With you to

a far-away home, w ere new associations will
cause me to forget the past and live for the
future. ,

“Bu Merle, until I haul down the black flag
from a ve my head, I wish you to remain
with me, and I Will make you one of my
emcers.”

And Freelance was as true as his word, for in
spite of the dark brows of his angry crew, and
frownm glances of his other he made
Merle a tenant on board the Buccaneer craft

CHAPTER XXX].
m anion nus u ass-r.

Six months have away since the Wait
of the Wave, u in an boat at sea,
was disco by the valier to be his

own Ion, his litth Merle, for whom he had

 
searched so long without succeu after the fatal
night when he had visited vm’. an. to find
him taken from him.

Often had be communicated with Delbanco,
the Jew, who, with his beautiful daughter,

 
.s_g~mu—_.W

 
i

 
F

spared no trouble or gold to search for the miss-
ing boy; but ever‘canie back the same dread
answer:

“ N0 tidings of the child.” _

At last Fate had drifted him in the path of his
father’s vessel, and the two were united once
more, though Merle knew not the tie that bound
them, yet seemed strangely drawn toward the
dark, stern corsair chief.

In the six months that had elapsed since Merle
had been an ofﬁcer on board tie schooner, he
hadproven himself a thorough seaman: but
still he was not popular, either with his brother
ofﬁcers or his men, for they hated the idea of a
mere boy being placed over them. . _

Freelance knew well their feelings. yet it
made no difference to him, other than to cause
him to rule them more severely, and wholly dis-
regard their mutterin gs.

But the storm was gathering, and the end
must come that would fall heavily upon the iron
hand that had so long ruled that wild and sav-
age horde.

' Buccaneering was yearly becoming more dan-
gerous, prizes were ess frequently found easy
prey, and when taken were of far less value
than the richly-freighted ships that had coasted
the Spanish main, and cruisers of all nations
were making a. common war upon piracy, until
the name of Freelance alone held his crew to-
gether.

Following the course of the swift vessel the
reader beholds her again heading in toWard the
Mississippi shore, just before sunset of a )leas-
out day, Six months after the coming on card
of Merle, tho lVaif.

Standing on the quarter-deck was Freelance,
and near him his son, dressed in a handsome
uniform.

“You know the channel in here, sir?” asked
the youth.

“Yes. well; I was born in yonder handsome
plantation home you see nestling amid that
gran of trees,” and Freelance pointed to a Villa
two Feagues away, and which the youth gazed

upon with feelings of deepest interest as the ‘-

home ofthe chief, while to his mind came the
question of what had driven that splendid man
to piracy.

‘ It isto visit that home :I have come here,
boy; though, with several cruisers in close vi-
cinity, it is a. dangerous tliin'r to do; yet I feel a

ressure here,” and he laid (his hand upon his

cart; “ a presentiment that ere long death will
clutch mo in his arms, and I longed to onceinore
visit the scenes of my boyhood.

“Then, in that long a o, Merle. I was happy,
and no storm-clouds ha risen above the hori-
son of my young life; now how changed, for
darkness and despair ever hover over me.”

“ And are your arents still living then?”
asked Merle, with in rest.

“Alas! no; my father fell in a. duel when I
was a boy—a vendetta that cost many noble
lives; my poor mother died of a broken heart—

sho believed me guilty of s‘aying my brother; 4

the homestead now belongs to my brother, who
is an oﬁlcer in the navy, and he lives there when
on leave. . .

“ No welcome will I have there now, and it Is

llution for my feet to tread the paths I trod
in innocent childhood); but I must go and see the
old lace once more.

“Iliad then on will sail for the Indies and
give up your ife of piracy, as you promised
me ’ i

“ Yes, Merle; Iwill henceforth lead a d1ifer~
ent life. Now bring the schooner to anchor
and call the gig alougsi ie for me. I Will nee
no boat’s crew, for I will row myself.”

Ten minutes after the schooner lay at anchor,

and the chief was rowing shoreward, while ,

darkness was creeping upon the sea and hiding
the land from view. I

But seaward the light of the setting sun yet
lingered, and the large hull and towering masts
of a fri ate suddenly came in Sight around a

oint 0 land.
p “ 110 there! sprin into a boat and recall the
chief i” ordered Mer e, quickly, and as a cutter
dashed away in pursuit of Freelance. Merle
called the crew to their guns, and excepting
raising the anchor and setting sail, had all in
readiness for combat. _ _

1n the meantime .the friggite In In the only

ass leading seaward, and t e dar ness hid her
rom view; but that she had come there to
blockade the schooner was evident. .

Shortly after the cutter returned and said the
chief would re'oin his vessel within the. hour,
and for the sc ooner to be plre red against an
attack of small boats from t e rigabe,

Then a silence like death rested upon the wa-
ters; but keen eyes peered out into the dark-
ness to watch for coming danger. .

And soon it came, for _a long line of boats,
crowded with men and With mufﬂed oars, ap-

roached the schooner, hoping to surprise the
buccaneers. . .

But the men held their lives in their hands on
that little outlaw craft, and poured upon their
enemies a galling ﬁre that sent many a soul
aloft and the ﬁerce combat was be_ 11.

With undaunted front the nasal ants ressed
on, to be hurled hack into the sea, and t 6 mad
carnage went on until the boats were driven off,

 
reelance, the Buccaneer.

23

 
just as trailin storm-clouds swept over the sea
and the wind ashed the waters into foam.

Then, out of the gloom dashed a boat with
but one occupant, and running alongside the
schooner a ta] form sprung u n the deck.

“Up with that anchor! All ands to set sail!”

The stem order was in the deep tones of the
chief, and in an instant almost the schooner
was dashing through the waves, rushing by the
returning boats, and heading for the frigate,
which had drop d anchor, and was lying under
the lee of a sma l island to ride out the storm.

But a ﬂash of vivid lightning discovered the
ﬂying schooner to the eyes on board the frigate,
and a moment after there came a hail as the
ﬂeet craft rushed by.

In loud tones Freelance replied, as though he
were the Ofﬁcer in charge of the attacking party,
and had taken the sc ooner, and held on his
course; but the returning boats were now near
the man-of—war and the deception was made
known.

Instantly the guns of the frigate thundered
savagely forth, and sent an iron hail after the
flying buccaneer, hittin her in a number of
places. and laying severa of her crew upon the
deck torn and dying.

But Freelance had run many a deadly gant-
let before and held on seaward, through
the island chain, and Inn ed into the storm-
swept waters of the Gu f, w ile his huge enemy,
under close-roofed sails, at once stood out of the
inlet in hot pursuit of the daring Cavalier Cor-

sair.

Out into the midnight gloom, ever and anon

set ablaze by luri lightning, rushed the
schooner, while upon her decks er demon-like
crew are struggling for mastery, having mu—
, tinied against t eir chief.
I But suddenly a crash of thunder shakes the
very sea, a lurid blaze of lightning bursts from
an inky cloud, and descends upon the tall top-
mast of the buccaneer schooner, and darkness,
death, wreck and ruin follow.

CHAPTER XXXII.
THE WRECK.

TiiE scene has changed; the storm-clouds have
drifted away and the sky is clear, though the
wind et blows free, and the waves run high.

An the buccaneer schooner?

The end has come, for the once beautiful
craft, that so lon bounded in trium h over the
seas, whose keel eft a red wake w erever its
sharp bows out the blue waters, is a wreck upon
' the waves, her hull torn by shot her mainmast
shivered into splinters by the lightning’s stroke,
and the foremast broken off until only a stump
remains.

The bulwarks are shattered, the deck torn in
3 many places the guns broken loose from their

lashings, and some of them lost overboard.

But one living being is visible upon her deck,
and he crouches down under the shelter of the
i forecastle pivot-gun, which alone remains ﬁrm.

And that one is a. mere boy, yet one who held
an Ofﬁcer’s rank on board the schooner. It is
Merle, the son of Freelance the Cavalier Cor-

 
sair.

\‘v ithe'n the cabin a wild scene presents itself,
for dead and dying men ﬁll the ﬂoor, and lying
in their midst, his right hand ping his blood-
l'stained cutlass, his left clutch ng the throat of
I a burly mutineer with iron grasp, is Freelance
i the Cavalier Corsair, whose face is terrible in
, death, for at last the mighty Destroyer has
I overtaken him, and retribution has come upon

him for his deeds.
.‘ Half a mile away upon the waters, her guns
, commanding the wreck, lies a state] frigate,

carrying the Stars and Stripes at her peak,
while moving rapidly over the rough waters are
" several boats ﬁlled with men.

At last the leading boat strikes the wreck,

j, and an officer springs on board, cutlass in hand,
j and with his men at his back.
1 His eye falls upon the youth crouching in the
 forecastle, and from him he learns of the red
: carnival? of carnage that had reigned on board

the schooner sinco the attack of the frigate’s
 beats the nig it before.
l Leading the way to the cabin the youth
‘ points within.

The eye of the frigate’s oﬂcm' falls upon the

, tall form and dark, stern face of the pirate
: chief and he starts back with a cry of horror.
‘ “ Great God! That Freelance the Buccaneer?”
I he cried, hoarse] .

“ Yes, senor, t at man is he whom men call
Frﬁelance the Cavalier Corsair,” said the youth,
sax .

g “ Boy, that man is Launcelot Grenville, my
: brother I” -

With quiverinin and tear-dimmed eye Ar-
, thur Grenville knel beside the man he had long
, believed dead—the brother he had so dearly
‘ loved, and had now found to mourn as a. bucca-
neer Chieftain—a very curse upon the sea.

 
CONCLUSION.

KIND reader, would you know of the career
of Merle, the son of Freelance the Cavalier Cor-
sair, I refer you to the columns of the STAR

, JOURNAL for the story of “ Merle the Mutineer;”
l but, as you have followed me through this r0
mance of the sea, and doubtles become in-

.‘P‘

 
terested in the characters that ﬁgure herein, I
will tell you that Juanita Delbanco, the beauti-
ful Jewess, held but one love through life, and
though sought by hundreds for her wealth and
beauty, died an old maid, leaving all the pro-
perty she had inherited from her father to the
poor of her 0V n race.

Alvez Miguel, like his chief, died on a pirate
deck, and with him disappeared the Buccaueei
ﬂag in the waters of the gulf.

nd Maud, who became the Amazerg Queen.
never regretted her marriage with the Red Finis:
and from them descended the piesent ruler o.
the mountain tribe of Amazergo.

launcelot Grenville. the toy of a cruel Fate,
sleeps at the bottom of the Gulf of Mexico, hav-
ing randed his brow‘ with crime, and left be~
hind him, written in letters of blood, the hated
name of Freelance the Buccaneer.

THE END.

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Sal’s SISTER. By Philip S. Warne.

2. The Dare-Devil; OR, THE WINGED
WITCH or THE SEA. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.

3. Kit Carson, J r., THE CRACK SEOT or
.41.: Wasr. By Buckskin Sam.

4. The Kidnapper: OR, THE GREAT
SHANGHAI or THE NORTHWEST. By Philip S. Warne.

5. The Fire-Piends; on, HERCULES, THE
HUNCIIUACK. By A. P. Morris.

6. Wildcat Bob, THE Boss BRUISER;
on, THE BOEDEE BLOODHOUNDs. By Ed. L. Wheeler.

7. Death-Notch, THE DESTROYER; OR,
THE SrImT LAKE AVENGEEs. By 011 Coomes.

8. The Headless Horseman. A strange
story of Texas. By Capt. Mayne Reid.

9. Handy Andy. By Samuel Lover.

10. Vidocq, TEE FRENCH POLICE SPY.
Written by himself.

11. Midshipman Easy. By Capt. Mar-
ryat.

12. The Death-Shot; on, TRACKED TO
DEATE. By Capt. Mayne Reid.

1 3. Pathawa ; on, NICK WHImEs, THE
OLD Tilal’l'hllt or TEE URTHWEST. By Robinson.

14. Thavendanezna, THE SCOUEGE ;
OE, ‘i‘I-IE WAN-EAGLE or TEE MOHAWEs. Ned Buntline.

15. The Tiger-Slayer; OE. EAGLE-
HEAD TO THE RESCUE. By Gustave Aimard.

1 6. The ‘White Wizard ; OR, THE GREAT

PROPHET or TuE SEMINOLES. By Ned Buntline.

17. Nightshade. TEE ROBBER PRINCE
or HOCNSLOW HEATH. By Dr. J. H. Robinson.

18. The Sea Bandit; on, THE QUEEN
or THE law. By Ned Buntiine.

19. Red Cedar, THE PRAIRIE OUTLAW.
By Gustave Aimard.

20. The Bandit at Bay: on, THE PI-

EATEs OE THE PRAIRIES. By Gustave Aimard.

21.’ The Trapper’s Dan hter; on,
THE OUTLAw's FATE. By Gustave A mard.

22. Whitelaw: OE, NATTIE or THE LAKE
SHORE. By Dr. J. H. Robinson.

23. The Red Warrior: 03, STELLA
DELOEHE’S COMANCIIE LOVER. By Ned Buntline.

24. Prairie Flower. By Gustave Ai-
mard. author of “ Tiger-Slayer.” etc.

25. The Gold-Guide; on. STEEL Ann,
TEE REGULATOR. By Francis Johnson

26. The Death-Track; OR, THE OUT-
LAws or TEE MOUNTAIN. By Francis Johnson.

27. The Spotter-Detective: on. THE
Gnu or NEW ORE. By Albert W. Aiken.

28. Three-Pingered Jack, THE ROAD-
AGENT or TEE ROCKIES. By Joseph E. Badger. Jr.

29. Tiger Dick, THE FARO KING; or,
TEE CAsHIEE's CRIME. By Philip S. Warne.

80. Gospel Geor e; or. FIEEY FEED,
l‘EE OUTLAW. By Josep E. Badger, Jr.

31. The New York ‘Sha :’ on, THE
FLAsH or LIGHTNING. By Albert W. en.

32. B’hoys of Yale; OR, THE BCRAPES
JFA HARD SET or COLLEGIANs. By John D. Vose.
33. Overland Kit. By A. W. Aiken.
34. Rocky Mountain Rob. By Aiken.
35. Kentuck. the Sport. By Aiken.
36. Injun Dick. By Albert W. Aiken.

37. Hit-l. the Hunchback: on, THE

BWOEDHAEEE or THE SANTEE. By Dr. J. H. Robinson.

38. Velvet Hand: on, THE IRON GRIP or
lawn DICE. By Albert W. Aiken.

39. The Russian Spy: on. THE BEOTH-
no or m Emu-s! Class. By ck Whittaker.

 
40. The Lon Haired ‘Pards;’ OR,
THE ’i‘AETAEs or THE INs. By J 05. E. Badger. Jr.

or THE GREAT SALT LAKE. By Albert W. Aiken.

42. The California Detective ; OR,
THE WITCEEs or NEW YORK. By Albert W. Aiken.

43. Dakota Dan, THE RECKLEss RANGER;
or, THE BEE-HUNTEns‘ EXCURSION. By 011 Cosmes.

44. Old Dan Rackback, THE GREAT
MINATOI. By OllCoomes.

45. Old Bull’s Eye, TEE LIGHTNING
Saar or TEE PLAINS. By Joseph E. Badger, JE.

46. Bowie-Knife Ben, THE LITTLE

HUNTEE or TEE Non‘-wssr. By Oil Coomes.

47. Paciﬁc Pete, THE PRINCE or THE
REVOLVER. By .105. E. Badger. Jr.

48. Idaho Tom, THE YOUNG OUTLAW
or SILVEELAND. By 011 Coomes.

49. The Wolf Demon: or, THE QUEEN or
THE KANAWHA. By Albert W. Aiken.

50. Jack Rabbit, THE PRAIRIE SPORT;
By Joe. E. Badger, Jr.

51. Red Rob, THE BOY ROAD-AGENT.
By Oil Coomes.

 
m CAEEON, JIL—No. 8.
52. Death Trailer. THE CHIEE or
Scours. By Hon. Wm. F. Cody. (Buffalo Bill.)

53. Silver Sam: or. THE MYSTERY or
Des :lwoon CITY. By Col. Delle Sara.

54. Always on Hand: or, The SPOETNE
SPOEr or TEE FOOT HILLs. By PM? i... Warns.

55. Thef )ualp Hunters. A Romano tor
THE PLAINs. By Capt. Mayne Reid.

56. The Indian Maseﬂgz: or, THE
MAD MAN or TEE PLAINs. By W. Aiken.

57. The Silent Hunter; or, TEE SCOWL
HALL MYsTEEY. By Percy B. St. John.

58. Silver Knife; or, WICELIPTE, THE
ROCKY MOUNTAIN RANGEE. By Dr. J. H. Robinson.

59. The Man From Texas; or, TEE
OUTLAW or AEEANsAE. By Albert W. Aiken.

60. Wide Awake; or, TEE IDIOT or
THE BLACK Firms. By Frank Dumont.

61. Ca tain Seawall. TEE PRIVATII‘B.
By Ned Bun line.

62. Loyal Heart; or, TEE TEAPrEns or
AHEANEAI. By Gustave Aimard.

63. The Winged Whale. By Aiken.
64. Double-Sight. the Death Shot.

 
avaphEB-drer

41. Gold Dan; OR, TEE WHITE SAVAGE 

Each Number Complete. Price 10 cts.

65. The Red Rajah; or, THE SCOUEGH
or TEE INDIEs. By Captain Frederick Whittaker.

66. The Specter Barque. A TAL!
or THE PACIFIC. By Captain Mayne Reid.

67. The Boy Jockey; or, HONEST!
VERSUS CEOOEEDNEss. By Joseph E. Badger. J;

68. The Fighting Trapper; or, K1!
CARSON T0 TEE RESCUE. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams

69. The Irish Castain: A TALE or
FONTENOY. By Captain erick Whittaker.

70. Hydrabad, THE STRANGLER; on
, TEE CHILD or TEE CORD. By Robinson.

71. Captain Cool-Blade, or, THE MM
SEAEE or TEE MISSISSIPPI. By Joe. E. Badger, JL:

72. The Phantom Hand. A STORY 0!
NEW YORK HEAETHE AND HOMES. By A. W. Aiken.

73. The Knight of the Red Cross)
or, TEE MAGICIAN or GRANADA. Dr. J. H. Robinson

74. Captain of the Riﬂes. A ROMANC!
or THE MExICAN VALLEY. By Captain Mayne Reid

75. Gentleman George, or, PAELOE
Pusan. STAGE AND STREET. By Albert W. Aiken.

76. The Queen’s Musketeer, OI
TEIsHE, TEE PEINCEss PALEIST. By George Albany.

77. The Fresh of Frisco. or, Tm
HEIEEss or BUENAVENTITRA. By Albert W. Aiken

78. The Mysterious Spy; or, GOLDE!

FEATHER, THE BUCCANEEE‘s DAUGHTER. By Graingol

79. Joe Phenix, THE POLICE SPY. B)
Albert W. Aiken.

80. A Man of Nerve; or, CALIBA),
TEE DWAEE. By Philip S. Warne.

'81. The Human Tiger; or, ’A HELP!
or FIRE. By Albert W. Aiken.

82. Iron Wrist. the Swordetel .
By Col. Thomas H. Momtery.

83. Gold Bullet Sport: or, THE KNIGHT“
or THE OVERLAND. By Buffalo Bill.

84. Hunted Down; or, THE WEI"
WITCH. By Albert W. Aiken.

85. The Cretan Rover: or, ZULEIXAB
THE BEAUTIEUL. By Col. Prentice In

86. The Big Hunter: or, THE QUEE -
or THE WOODS. By the author of “ SL‘ent Hunter.‘

87. The Scarlet Ca ptain; or, Tn u
PHIsONER or THE TOWER. By 001. Della Sara.

88. Bi George, THE GIANT or Tm
GULCE; or, EFIVE UTLAw BEOTHEEs. By Badge-I

89. The Pirate Prince; or, Pam:
NELLY, THE QUEEN or TEE Inn. By Col. Inn-sham

90. Wild Will. THE MAD RANCHERH
or, THE TEEEIELE TEXAN. By Buckskin Sam.

91. The 'Winningl Oar; or, THE Inn
nEPEE's DAUGHTEE. By bert W. Aiken.

92. Buﬁlo Bill. TEE Bucxsxm Km.
By Major Dangerﬁeld Burr.

93. Captain Dick Talbot. KING m
THE ROAD; or, TEE BLACK-390m or Sm l 0
Albert W. Aiken.

94. Freelance, TEE BUCCANEEE; or, '11 .
WAIT or THE WAVI. By Col. Prentiss ' am,

Ready ay 19p

95. Ashort. THE AXMAN: or. TEE SEOEE:

or THE DUCAL PALACE. By Anthony P. Morris.
Ready June a:

96. Double Death: or, THE SPY QUEF'I

or WYOIIIIG. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker.
Ready June latr-

97. Bronse Jack, THE CALIronm.

THOEOUGHEEED. By A. W. Aiken. Rudy June 30

A now am every'two wank.

Besdle’s Dime Library E for sale by at
Newsdeslen, ten cents per copy. 01' sent by mall on
receipt of twelve cents each. BEADLE a ADAM!

 
Publishers. as Wmism Street. New York.

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LIBRARY... '