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V01  Published Every 988616126 ,6? fldamS; giniSherS, TenCentsaCoPY° N0 

Two Weeks. 98 WILLIAM STREET, N. Y., September 22, 1880. $2.50 a. Year.

MERLE, THEMUTINEER:or, THE BRAND [IF THE man ANcHnn.

A ROMANCE 0P SUNNY LANDS AND BLUE WATERS.

 

 

 

 

 

BY COLONEL PRENTISS INGRAHAM,

AUTHOR OF “THE DARE DEVIL,” “ THE CRETAN ROVER,” “THE PIRATE PRINCE,” “FREELANCE, THE BUCCANEER,” ETC., ETC.

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“ GOD IN HEAVEN! m THAT BOY Is DEAD, EVERY MAN ON THIS SCHOONER SHALL RUE THE DEED!”

Merle, The Mutineer.

 

Merle, the M‘utineer;
08.

THE BRAND or THE man ANCHOR.

A Romance of Sunny Lands and
Blue Waters.

.__—-

BY COLONEL PRENTISS INGRAHAM,

AUTHOR or “ran DARE nsvrn,” “ran cas-
TAN novmn,” “ rm: PIRATE PRINCE,"
“ FREELANCE, ran BUCCANEEB,"
ma, arc.

CHAPTER I.
run SEA-HAWKS.

“ Gm way, men! there lies your game!”

The clear, trumpetlike voice rung out stern
in the darkness—a darkness almost tangible, for
inky clouds hung low in the heavens, and their
shadows, trailing over the waters, made them as
black as midnight.

Noland was visible—no light penetrated the
gloom—only the ebony skies and the dead- black
sea, ascalm as the pulseless bosom, for not a
- breath fanned the waters, and a silence, like
that which broods in the tomb, hung over all.

Like trailing serpents, creeping upon a com-
mon prey, half a dozen dark objects swept
noiselessly over the placid waters, grim and
threatening.

Like a phantom, as silent and as weird-look-
ing, a schooner lay ugon the ocean, and directly
in the path of the li ing boats. I .

The storm-clou s, the ink-d ed waters, the
motionless vessel, and the craw ing boats, were
all that the eye of man could see in that mid-
night darkness.

“Give way, men! there lies your game!”

The ringing order echoed far over the sea, and
was answered by a wild cheer from a hundred
throats.

But the shouts upon those brave lips were
drowued by a roar and crash that shook the
very sea, and the blackness of night was changed
into lurid light, as a dozen brazen mouths burst
forth with defiance from the crouching, aunt
hull of the schooner, and a cruel, iron urri-
ggne tore relentlessly through timbers, flesh and

ne. ~

“There lies your game, men!”

It was the same ringing voice—louder, clearer
and undaunted by the iron storm that had burst
upon the devoted boats.

Another cheer answered—fainter than the
other, for many lips were sealed in death, and
many more were moaning in agon ; t on
rushed the boatshdriven by arms ofystetz, and
the combat of e or doom was begun; the
schooner no longer appeared like a phantom,
but mtherlike s lazing hell u n the waters,

for upon her gas-painted dec were men in
the image’of ling like fiends broke
loose from an Inferno— h ing, bleeding, fall-
iugitfiig , still grappth with death to
ga e, H ' over their f ow-beings.
Fora w, only eculd such a combat
rage—he ’ batan were‘ mortal: then a

t com ts

change “for the gallant leader of the assail-
ants was struck down, thou b not coaquered
for he half-prose, and still eld his shattered
cutless on , to ward 03 the half-dosen
death- blows aimed at his "heart.
V His followers had been beaten back from his
’side; he was alone confronti his foes, and
they knew no mercy, and the blades were
thirsty for his life- yet no suppliant cry escaped
his lips; he would die ere he wouldbeg for quar-
ter to than before him—those whom he had
h to subdue.

own sw t the wee toward the defense-
less breast, riven by ands crime-stained and
relentless: but sudden] there came a flash of
light, and the ringof l
bright blade beat back the fe-searching cut-

lanes.

“ Back, hounds! You shall not slay a dis-
armed and fallen man !”

The voice was boyish, yet stern and in deadly
earnest—the speaker a mere youth of sixteen,
who had sprung fearlessly between the fallen
man and h s doom. ‘

“ Rise sir, and retreat with yourmen: quick,
or it wil be too late.”

The man, bleeding from several ugly wounds,

ng to his feet, glanced at the angry faces
confrontin him, looking grim and inhuman by
the light 0 the battle-lanterns, and then turned
' his gaze u n the youth, who still stoodbetween
him and nger. ‘

“ Boy, you have saved m” life. We' shall
meet again, and then I will 3 ve you yours in
return. »

Ere one of his foes could prevent the brave
man bounded along the deck, an sprinan
over the bulwarka, was drawn on board 0 h
own boat, which had lingered there, loath to
leave their gallant leader in the power of an im-
placable enemy.

With wild cries of rage and disappointment
the schooner’s crew rushed forward, and poured
a hot flreupon the flying boats, bearing back

 

nst steel, as one i

 

but one-half the number they had brought to l —-I will pass to leeward and lay to until the
the attack; but strong arms dragged them i gale blows over,” replied the chief, through his

swiftly through the black waters, and the
gloom soon hid them from view, and darkness
and silence again rested u n the deep—no not
silence, for the moans of he wounded an the
death-cries of the dying arose from the vessel’s
deck, and were caught up and home away on
the air.

Then there burst from a score of voices a dan-
gerous cry against one on that schooner’s deck
—one who stood silent and alone, glancing out
into the pitchy gloom. .

“ Hang the traitor! Up to the yard-arm With
the boy!

The youth started, and faced toward those
who threatened him, while his right hand drop—
ped quickl upon his cutlass-hilt, his left upon

he butt 0 a pistol.

“ Run him 11 to the ard-arm!”

The cry was oud and, threatening, and there
followed the rush of many feet—a shout of
warning, a shot, a crunching sound of steel
meeting bone, and then yells o triumph.

“Now, u with him lads!” shouted a stern
voice, and rom the doc arose a dark was of
writhing humanity, to dangle between sea and

sk .

x By the Heaven above! who hangs there?”

Like guilty wretches all turned at the diff)
tones and beheld a tall form bound over the -
warks and stand in their midst.

“ The chief! The chief i”

The cry broke in terror from a dozen lips,
and the wild crew shrunk back from the sweep
of his single arm.

“ Answer! Whom have you hung?”

“The youth, sir; he was a traitor,” shouted
one of the crew.

“ God in heaven! if that boy is dead, every
man on this schooner shall rue the deed,” yelled
the chief, and springing forward he uickly
seized the rope from t 1e ands of those w 0 held
it, and lowered the swinging form to the deck,
where it lay limp and motionless.

“ He lives! t is well for you, accursed
hounds, that his heart is not stilled,” hissed the
chief, and raising the insensible youth in his
strong arms he bore him into the cabin.

A few moments after he was again on deck,
and the schooner was rocking upon the waves
that were lashed into restlessness by a fresh
breeze—the forerunner of the storm that soon
must burst u n the waters.

“Up with hat anchor! let fall those sails! We
must run out of here under cover of the storm,
or with the morning we will have every boat
from the frigate to attack us.”

Every trace of anger had gone from the chief’s
voice, and the crew sprung to work with a will,
anxious to redeem themselves in his eyes.

Quicklv the schooner bent to the breezs, and
forging through the waters flew like a sea-bird
through the darkness, her chief at her helm, and
a silence that could be felt on board.

Presently the chief was joined b one, who
came from the cabin, and said, quie ly:

“ The boy is recovering, sir.”

“ It is well that he is; now tell me about the

ttack.”

“ Well, air, all was in readiness, as you order-
ed, and we fired as soon as we caught sight of
the boats, which was not until they were almost
upon us, as they came with muffled oars. ”

“ How many boats, sir?”

“ Six, captain, bearinfafullg a hundred men.”

“ A in force: the ds eserve credit for
beatin t em back. Go on, sir.”

“We 1, air. we beat them back, after a terri-
bly hot fight, and would have captured their
leader, who was severe] wounded, had not the
youth prevented, and owed him to escape.”

“ The boy did right; and for this those devils
cfallgd him a traitor, and would have taken his
lfe ’ '

“Yes, sir, for I was powarless to revent.”

“ Bah! I revented, and thank eaven I ar-
rived as I dld. I had just landed on my way to
the cavarn, heard the attack, and returned just
in time— What is it, sir?” and the chief turned
upon a seaman who approached.

“ The boats are ol’ our starboard quarter, sir;
shall we fire upon them?"

“ No; it would show the frigate just where
we are.”

“ Suit ho !”

The cry came from forward, and in tones that
were tremulous. ,

“ Where-away?” asked the chief, calmly; then
he added, quick y: i

“It is the fri te, and right in our course; we

must ut ebou or pass in a cable’s len th of
her— al I have it—stand ready, all, to str the
schooner of canvas, for the scorm will stri 0 us
M.”
Then, to the surprise and alarm of his crew,
their captain still held on his course, directly for
the frigate, whic under storm-sails, was stand-
ing of! and on on e entrance to the little inlet,
in which the schooner had been entrapped.

Nearer and nearer the two vesse s drew to-

ether and frequently there came a loud hail
mm the frigate a deck.

“Ahoy the schooner! Bravo, Grenville, for
your success!”

“ Ay, ay, sir! We have the schooner all right

 

trumpet, and he swept by under the stern of the
huge vessel and nota cable’s length away.
But not to lay to, as the chief had said, for,

like a mad racer, the little vessel scudded away

out of danger, juso as the storm struck the sea,
while the stem man who guided its destinies,
said grimly, and with a shadow of triumph in
his tones:

“ That was a bold game to play, but I have
won; if those boats have not put back under the
shelter of the land, they will surely go down in
this blow.”

 

CHAPTER II.
HEAVEN FORBIDS!

“ AND I say he shall ‘die, if my own knife has
to find his heart.”

_ “ You are right, shipmate; he must die, for he
is a traitor.” .

“ A{, and one whom the chief intends to
make is second in command.”

“ Had we done what he did, the chief himself
would have cut us down; but he seems strangely
drawn toward the boy.”

“ Were be his own son, it should not save him;
ay, and if he depends on him, it will be at the
risk of his own life.”

“You seem terribly hard on the boy, ship~
mates; how has be injured you?”

It was the only voice of two-score men,
crouching down forward, while the schooner
drove on like a mad spirit, that had been raised
in defense of the youth, and all eyes turned upon

1m.

“ What wrong hashe done us, say you? Why
from a mere waif, a boy, he has been made an
officer over us and to-night saved the life of a
man who has been our most persistent enemy!
I tell you, shipmates, that boy will yet run our
necks in the noose if we do not first string him
up.
“ Now is as good a time as any, and let us de-
mand him from the chief, and take him if he
Sefu’ses to give him up, which he will of course

0.

A murmur of general assent greeted the words
of the speaker, and with one accord they arose
to their feet.

The schooner was driving alon at a fearful
pace, and the ale was swee ing are sea in fury,
while the clou s hung like lack funeral vails
upon the waters. .

An hour before, the schooner had run its bold
way under the ver guns of the frigate, and
havmg gained an 0 ng the fearless player of
the desperate game for life had left his second
in command at the wheel, and gone down into
the cabin to look after his young protege, while
his crew on deck were plottin against the
brave boy, who lay weak and en ering upon a
lounge, yet now returned to consciousness. '

As the swinging lamdp of the cabin fell upon
the youth, it '?)laye a form of elegance, and

et of stren th er above the average of one of
is years,_,w ch could not have been more than

sixteen.

Yet, in spite of is age, there was a certain
manliness abopt im that indicated his ability
to lay a man s part.

isface was a study for an artist, who de-
sired womanly beauty and manhood combined,
for the features were faultless, the eyes iargte,
intensely black, and full of fire, and the tee h
milk-white and even.

Only the fearless, resolute mouth, et un-
shadedb amustache, took from the ace the
beauty t at would have best suited a woman.

His hair was wavy, dark brown, and worn
lon , fallin upon the collar of his sailor shirt,
thtlifh, wit white duck pants, comprised his
a e.

Around the neck was a dark-blue mark left
by the cruel rope, and his face was as white as
marble, and as emotionless, as he lay upon the
lounge, until the chief entered; then a bri ht
light shot into his eyes, and a smile curled
lip, as he held forth his hand and said, calmlg:

“ You saved me from those devils, w 0
would have hung me, because I would not allow
them”to strike down an unarmed and wounded
man.

The chief advanced quickly and took the hand,
throwing himself into an easy-chair as he did so.

He was a man of massive frame, clad in an
undress uniform, and with a dark, bearded face
that was bold and reckless in the extreme.

“ Yes,” he said, in his deep, thou b not un-

leasant tones “ I have more to than you for

erle, than I magined, for I have just learns
that Arthur Grenville was the man who led the
attack upon the schooner, and it was his his
that on saved.”

“ es. sir: it was the same officer whom we
met in New Orleans some weeks since, and who
has so often endeavored to capture the schooner.
You know him then i”

A stran e smile crossed the face of the man;
but he said quietly:

“Yes, I know him well.”

Then rising uickly he began to pace the
cabin, in spite o the bounding of the vessel.

For some moments he continued his unsteady
walk, as though too nervous to sit still, and then
turned sudden y toward the youth:

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Merle, The Mutineer.

 

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“Merle, the life we lead ma again brin us
face 'to face with Captain Krthur Grenvgille,
and under any, and all circumstances, do your
utmost to rotect his life—ay, if you strike dead
the man w o raises hand against him.

“Once in the lon go we were friends,
Arthur Grenville an I; but he believes me
dead and I am dead tothose who once knew me;
ay, (lead to honor, too, for I am an outlaw, a
price upon my head, and the name I bear stain-
ed with crime; but once I was far different, and
could hold in head up among my peers, and-—
bah! why will I speak of the plast?

“ Circumstances, over whic I held no con—
trol made me what I am, and now I am what I

am.

“ To—night I seem strange] moody, and there
is a pressure here,” and he aid his hand upon
his heart.

For a moment he stood thus, and then said,
with (lee feeling:

“ Mer e, if aught befalls me—if I should die, I
leave you in command of this vessel; yes, and
far more, for I untold wealth, hidden
far from here in an island— Ha! what means
this disturbance?” and the chief turned angrily
toward the cabin companionway, now crowded
by a dozen forms.

“Captain, we have come to ask a_favor of
you, sir ;” said one of the crew, stepping in ad-
vance of his comrades.

“Return to the deck, lads, for our presence
here may excite Lieutenant Mer e; I Will hear
What you have to say on to-morrow,” said the
chief, calmly. _

“ There is no time like the present, Captain
Freelance, and it isof the boy we would speak,”
doggedly said the ringleader.

‘ Ah! you come to ask him to pardon your
mutinous conduct?"

“Not a hit of it, sir; we cometo carry out
our intention of stringing him up to the yard-
arm ’

“ Curses and Furies! do you dare beard me in
my cabin?” and the chief turned with blazing
eyes upon the intruders, who now half-filled the
cabin, while the youth rose to a sitting position
and fearlessly gazed upon his enemies.

‘ We have come for a plain talk, captain and
110w that we’ve set sail, we might as well ave
it out if it leads us upon breakers.”

“ And upon breakers it will lead you ; begone !”
and Captain Freelance pointed sternly toward
the dec . '

But not a man moved though their faces
paled; they felt that the die was cast and that
a struggle must come, and all eyes turned upon
their ngleader, a young man who had evident-
ly seen better days in e past, but having cast
his lot with outla , was now reckless to des-
peration. Perhaps he felt that the youth held a.
place that should have been his.

“ Captain, we wish no quarrel with you, sir.”

“ Then leave this cabin at once.”

“Not until we gain our object, sir, and we are
determined to do that, for you have made that
unknown lad an officer over us who have served
you for years.”

“ Ay, and should harm befall me he shall
command this schooner.”

“ Never!” burst from every mutineer.

" Ha! I am then to be ruled by my men, it
would seem?" and the chief flashed his eyes over
the stern faces before him.

“NO, captain, we will obey you in all but one
thing; you have led us in many a desperate en-
counter, and we know you, while you have
gained for usgold; but we did object to your
P1331118 over us as an oflicer that be , and—”

“captain Freelance, let me speak a word to
these rebellious hounds,” and the youth, with an
effort arose to his feet,

“You made me an officer, sir, under you—a
position I never sought, or desired, for—pardon
me, Sir—I cared not to sail beneath an outlawed
flag: but you saved my life, and in return I
have endeavored to serve you until I could—
again pardon me—find honorable service.

“ To-night I crossed these men in their thirst
for blood. and for it they sought my life, and
again you saved me.

“ Now, as I am the bone of contention, let
med leave the schooner at the nearest PO”,
an —

“ N0. Merle. I will not consent to it, for I
have a service that you shall enter upon: and as
for these fellows, they shall not dictate to me,
aslongasIhaveagooddghtarmtomnhany
one who opposes me.”

“Ca tam Freelance, this argument is all use-
less. 6 have come for the youth, and have
him we will, if we take him over your dead

y.

“ B the God above! that speech rin well,”
and t e chief bounded forward and elled the
speaker to the floor with one blow of his clenched
hand, for he was unarmed:

A yell of fury broke from the crew, and in an
instant they hurled thdtnselves upon their lead-
er, while a shot resounded through the cabin,
like the roar of a heavy gun.

It was fired by the youth, and the. bullet
found the heart of the one at whom it was
aimed.

But it checked not the maddened mutineers,
and rushing forward a doaen seized the object

 

of their hatred, and he, too, was borne bodily
to the floor, though struggling bravely.

“ The chief is dead!”

The cry came from the lips of the ringleader,
as he arose to his feet. a drawn knife in his
hand, the blade to the hilt crimsoned

A hush fell upon all present; the bold deed
had struck them dumb, and their eyes turned
upon the face of their leader; it was white and
motionless, and they lmew that he was dead.

Instantly a chan e of feelin fell upon all—
they had not inten ed to kill him, only to bind
him until their revenge against the youth was
satiated.

“And you killed him?” cried a dozen voices
tur‘nxirng gpon the murderer.

‘ es

He saw not the danger in the avowal of his
deed; his ambition made him blind and fool-
hard , and he shouted with vicious triumph:

“ y! See, here is his mark on m forehead,
and he hears mine in his heart. ow hang
that boy to the yard-arm; my shipmates on
deck have alread hurled Reedwell into the sea,
and I am your c ief.”

Like frenzied wolves, those whom he had
trusted, threw themselves upon him; the cabin
lamp was knocked from its chains and fell with
a crash, and in total darkness the mad scuflle
went on.

But only for a moment, and then the wild
crew rushed on deck, dragging in their midst
the youth whom now they sit no power could
save, and leaving behind themthree dead bodies
—their chief, their ringleader in the mutiny
and the man who had fallen before the shot of
Merle.

Once on deck, and the scene was scarcely less
wild than that which had been enacted in the
cabin, for a few of the crew, who had been true
to their ringleader, had just thrown their oili-
cer, Reedwe 1 into the sea, but not until he had
slain two of their number.

Out upon the wide waste of dashing waters he
had been left to his doom, and under other
bands the beautiful schooner was held on her
course, bounding, reeling and rushing through
the chaotic seas that swept over its decks, and,
as if crouching and flyin from the inky storm-
clouds that hun abovei and from which burst
angy roars of t under.

e glance around him and the youth felt
that his doom was sealed, or he saw that the
crew held the deck and he set his teeth and
nerved his heart to ace death fearlessly.

“Swing him up, lads! It’s a dirty business
and must soon be over ” cried avoice above the
howlings of his comra es, and a rope was again
thrown around the bruised neck and a dozen
hands were ready to hang like a dog the brave
boy who stood in their midst, and rom whose
white lips came no cry for mercy.

“Now lads! all to ther!” ordered the self-

selected leader and t e ro tightened, and the
youth swung clear of the eck.
But, not to die, for, from the black cloud hov-
erin above the flying schooner, descended a
livi lance of flame upon the needle-like point
of the mainmast, shivering it into a thousand
atoms and, dividing into arrows of fire, the
lurid lightnin rushed to the deck, and ierced
the hearts of t ose who held the youth n mid-
air, striking them down, with others of the med-
dened crew.

One wild yell of horror, and the fright-crazed
crew who et lived fled in terror to the cabin to
shut out he terrific scene, for the felt that
Heaven had forbidden the murdert eir crime-
stained hands would have perpetrated.

CPAPTER III.
DRIPPING 'ro noon.

“ Boars ahoy l” .

The cry arose from the mast-head of the frig-
ate, and startled all who heard it, for what
boats could be out upOn those dark waters, over
which the storm must burst ere many seconds.

“ What! can Grenville have left the men to
return in the boats, in the face of this threaten~
in gale?” cried a distinguished-looking ofllcer,

 

w ose gra hair looked like silver thre as
the binnacl’e li ht fell u nit. ads,
“It was , sir, an not like Ca tain Gren—

ville, commodore,” replied a young 0 oer in the
uniform of a senior lieutenant.

“ Hark! they hail! What says he, Sebastian ?”
and as Commodore Brainard spoke, there came
across the waters in clear tones:

“ Ahoy the fri ate! Bringtoyonder schooner!”

“It 18. Grenvi ’5 voice! The schoOner has es-
caped him then and clever! eludedus! ck!
Mr. Sebastianhlet the friga wear roun and
give ch ” cried the commodore, excitedly.
in“”And t e boats, sir? See, the stormisbreak-

g"True; ahoy, Grenville! Pull for your lives
or you will be swamped! Lay her to, helmsman!
Lively, if you would save your shi tes’ lives!”
and t e voice of the old comm ore rung out,
as it had not done in many long years.

All was now intense excitement on board the
frigate, which at once obeyed her helm and
awe t around with its head to meet the gale,
whi e two hundred men sprung to the gangways
to aid their comrades on board. for the boats
were now but a few lengths away.

i

 

“Pullhard lads! Bravo!” and the voice of
Commodore Hrainard was drowned in the wild
cheer that broke from the crew, as the boats
struck the side of the frigate.

“Lightly, men! There are badly wounded
here for you to handle !” cried a clear voice
which all recognized as that of the captain of
the frigate, Arthur Grenville.

“Ay, ay, air; but the sea will be less gentle
than we are, if we don’t get them on board,”
answeredan old sailor, and the wounded and
dead in the boat were quickly passed over the
side; their more fortunate unwounded comrades
followed and the boats were hauled up 'ust as
the gale broke in fury upon the devoted s p.

Forafew moments t e stern orders of the
oflcers were heard, the snapping of ropes,
creaking of spars, wash of the waves and bowl-
ing oft ewiiids, and then the frigate rushed
away before the gale.

Then Commodore Brainard turned to Arthur
Grenville, and shouted:

“ You lost the schooner then i” 0

“Yes, commodore; I was beaten ed, with the
loss of half my men, though the lads fought like
devils. The schooner had double as many as I
believed were on board.”

“Too bad; and he hailed me as he went by,
and I believed it to be on! That Captain Free-
lance is protected by tan.”

“It would seem so, sir; but we must soon
overhaul the schooner in this storm, as the sea
is too wild for him to run, long. ”

“ He mamy to. Have double look-outs
placed, Ca ' Grenville, and then come into
the cabin, or I would learn of your attack; but
you are white as a sheet, and—

“I am wounded, sir; et only slightly, I
think. I will leave Mr. Se ' on deck, and
Captain Grenville followed the commodore into
the cabin, where, after havin his wounds,
which were not serious, attend to b the sur-
geon, he make known to his comman er the re-
sult of his desperate combat on board the
schooner, and of the conduct of the youth who
had saved his life.

“ He was a brave led and shall not be forgot-
ten, when the schooner falls into our hands, for
take it we in ,” said Commodore Brainard,

firm] .

“ garish; Freelance must not be allowed to
escape ‘s time; but I beg, Commodore Brain-
ard, that you will pardon the youth in return
for his service to me. He was a handsome,
fearless fellow, and I fear got into trouble after
we were beaten ofl.”

“It shall be as you wish, Grenville; but you
did not see the chief?”

“No, sir; I am confident he was not on
board, and that the old fisherman told us the
truth when he said Captain Freelance had run
into the cove, to gain information from one of
his sBLesbwho dwells on the coast.”

d “kwu tless; now do you feel able to goon
ec

“Yes, sir; my wounds trouble me little—
What is it, sir?” and Captain Grenville turned
to a midshi man who just then entered.

“ The g e is increasing, sir, and m. Sebas-
tian bade me report that a vessel was struck by
li htning two leagues to leeward, sir.”

th omcers at once hurried. on deck, to dis-
cover that the storm had in‘creased to a hurri-
cane, and that the frigate was driving furiously
befimmd th. all inky daknem, l

roun em was r on
when, ever and anon, a flame of light would
dart seaward from some black cloud, which
seemed almost trailing its skirts in the wild war
he

rs.

It certainly was a fearful night, and the crew
stood at their posts white and ex tant, for,
far awa over the raging waves, y had just
beheld a vid flash descend upon some unfortu-
nate Vessel, which the felt was doomed.

1 might not their nob e ship also meet the same
a

te

Such was the dread in every heart, and brave
men trembled as the thunders shook the deep,
and the lightnings layed around them, i
like the fiery swo s of some huge demons o
the clouds engagd in desperate and deadl
combat, while t crashing of heaven’s artil-
lery sounded like the hoarse voices of the aunt
combatants. .

“ Did on see the vemel, Sebastian?” shouted
Captain renville in the ear of the lieutenant.

‘ For an instant only, sir.”
“Was it the schooner?” followed the eager

question. .
“Ioould not tell. sir, the flash was so blind
ing; we are heading directly toward it.” ‘
‘Then we shall soon know, if the craft has
no down.”
eyes were now strained over the waters
ahead, and thus many minutes away,
until a blinding glare caused every e e to close
involuntarily, so vivid was the 11gb upon sea
an

d .

«the no!»

It was Arthur Grenville’s voice that rung out
clear and then followed in startling tones:

“ fort! port your helm! bards-port! Wears
drivin over him!”

The linemen threw their weight upon the
wheel; the obedient vessel obeyed her helm,

not

 

I
l

4,

Merle, The Mutineer.‘

 

 

and the bows swept away from the danger,
though not a moment too soon for, from hun-
dreds of throats broke a startled cry:

“The wreck! the wreck l”

“ There, not live fathoms away, and riding on
argieght wave, asevery eye beheld it, was a
ve 's ull, for the masts were one, and above
the roar of the tempest arose sh eks and howl-
ings infernal, as though the wreck was peopled
by a crew of lost spirits.

Though every face on board the frigate was
blanched, the asben hue deepened as those wail-
ing, demoniacal yells smote their ears, and in
the darkness each man endeavored to read what
was the thought of the other.

Down between two mighty waves sunk the
wreck from sight, and again it toppled high,
as the quarter-deck of e frigate was of! its

quarter.

“Frigate, aho l”

The voice th lied all who heard it; in the
midst of those devilish howlings it seemed hu-

man.

“ Ahoy the wreck i” cried Captain Grenville,
above the storm.

“Keep me in sight until daylight ” came in
the same voice that had hailed the f to.

“ That boy’s voice among a million! It is the
schooner i” almost shrieked Captain Grenville
to Commodore Brainard; and then, through his
silver trumpet he continued: “ Ay, ay; we will
keep near you.”

As he spoke the frigate dashed on out of bail-
ing distance, and the wild laughter and shrieks
from the wreck were no longer heard, to the

rest relief of the superstitious seamen, who
elt assured that the storm-tossed hull was man—

ned by a irit crew—the irits of men long
since d and damned, orever drifting to
doom!
CHAPTER IV.
was WRECK.
Wins the

frigate had swept furious! past
the wreck Captain Grenville gave the order to
lay to, andere long the dismasted hulk drove

b now on the summit of a wave, now lost to
s§§t far down in the trough of the sea.

, pan the vessel-of-war every eye was on the
watch to hold the wreck in view, and to every
earcame the weird and wild sound as if of
mad revelry, over lost souls, by ilen already
endu the tormente of the accursed.

Thus rough the long hours of that night of
storm did the frigate keep near the driving
hulk- but toward break the fierce gale be-
gan to blow itself on , and the dark clouds skur-
rying away, left the blue 3 visible.

But the wind still swept t e waters, the waves
ran high and as the sun came up from the sea
the wreck was visible a quarter of a mile away,
to the great surprise of the superstitious seamen,
who had flrml behaved it would disap with
the darknem, haunt them again with night
coming on.

Commodore Brainard, and Captain Grenville,
in spite of his wounds, had remained on deck
during the entire night and, as the sunlight
streamed across the sea their glasses were level-
ed at the wreck.

“It is the schooner’s hull, I am confident-—
long, low in the water, gaunt amide and
the atom of the foreth visible, rakes idly,”

Grenville, slowly as his glance
took Iin the different points of the dismasted
vesse .

“Yes, it certainly looks like the hull of the
schooner; but we shall soon know, at least when
the sea runs down so that we can board him.

yousee any one on board, Grenville?” re-
plied Commodore Brainard.

“No, sir, and I havo searched the deck from
stem to stern. I hope to Heaven the youth was
not washed off in the night,” said Captain Gren-
ville anxiously.

“ it is very ponible; our decks were swept by
the waves, and the wreck must have been
droWned most of the time; the bulwarks are
shattered badly, I observe.”

“ Yes. sir; it is where the fuss broke through
when tom loose from their astenings. If mor-

said ur

'tal man isaliveon yonder hulk, he has had a

fearful ht of it.”
“And e shrieks and mad laughter, Gren-
ville'”

“I do not understand it commodore. As
soon as I dare venture, I will on board the
wreck, and then the mystery w ll be solved.”

But throu h the day the wind still blew half
a gale, and (ginning, as night drew near, that
there was the prospect of another storm, Cap-
tain Grenville determined to make the attempt
to board the wreck.

“I would prefer that you should not go,
Grenville; theseais very wild,” mid Commo-

Bralnard

(lore .

“I fear the men would not go without me,
sir, orSebastian, and I will not risk his life.
They are convinced that the wreck is the Flying
Dutchman.” aver-red Arthur Grenville.

“ ck! turn your glass on the wreck, Gren-
ville Is not that a man for-mi” suddenly
“names are. a...

‘ a i s; is a

Mike}? lads, and lower away that boat!
Volunteers, ahoyl” called out Arthur Gren-

 

ville with some excitement, and he again turn-
ed his gloss upon the wreck. “It is the b0 ,
sir! I saw his face distinctly, as the sunlig t
pierced that cloud and fell upon it. He is lean-
ing over the taffrail and quietly gazing at the
frigate. Ho! fellows, where are you that are
to man my boat?” and Ca tain Grenville turned
stern! toward the crew, or not a man had of-
fered imself.

But, at his uestion, an old weather-beaten
seaman stepped forward and saluting with one
hand and pu ling at his trowsers with the other,
he said, bluntlg:

“ Ef it’s ter ght a human, Capt’in Grenville,
we’re ready, sir; but bein’ as we didn’t ship on
ther frigate ter cruise against ther Devil an’ a
crew o’ speerits, or ks, we’d ruther you’d
excoose us, sir, ef it’s the same ter ,yerself, ’kase
yonder wreck hain’t 0’ this wurld.’

“ Why Crai , do you fear to follow where I
lead ?" asked rthur Grenville, reproachfully,
rather than in anger.

“ You is goin’ then, sir?”

6‘ I am P)

“Then I’m one as is with yer, sir, of it’s ter
tackle hosts. or the Devil hisselfl” firmly an-
noun old Craig.

“ An’ I is another.”

“Count me in, capt’in.”

“I’ll lay aboard Satan’s own craft, of you

with me sir,” crieda fourth; and so it went
on, until afu l boat’s crew had volunteered, and
all was in readiness to go.

It was now just sunset, and the clouds were
darkening and the wind momentarili rising,
while the sea ran fearftu high; but t e brave
oflicer and his men were not daunted by the
daggers they had to face, and the boat was low-
er away.

But a sudden lurch of the frigate, a huge pg:-
ing wave, a fierce gust of wind, and the t
was bottom upward, and the crew struggling in
the wild waters.

Ropes were quick] thrown and every assist-
ance rendered, and a tain Grenville and the

ter number of the t’s crew were drawn

seaman, Craig, and several others were lost, the
mad waves dra n them off to die in the cruel
waters, and the risks for help rising above
the howling gale.

Once more on his uarter-deck, and undaunt-
ed by the d to nger he had just met, Ar-
thm- Grenvil e again called for volunteers to
man another boat; but no response came at his
command, and he felt that no earthly power
could move the men to attempt to board the
wreck now, as they were more than ever con-
vinced that it was a specter craft, with lost
spirits for a crew.

Again the val] of night was cast over the sea,
and again the gale howled savagely and dismal-
ly, an drove the frigate on through the tem-
pest~lashed waters.

Feeling confident that the men would not
keeg a look-out for the wreck, though they pre-
ten ed to, Arthur Grenville and h s ofllcers re-
mained on deck, and for hours the dismasted
hull was held in view, once or twice the frigate
running close upon it, and again hearin the
diabolical laughter and demoniacal shrie , as
on the night before.

“It seems like a ve mad-house- in God’s
name what can it mean ’ asked Wilher Sebas-
tian anxiously.

“i cannot solve it. Stand as close as you
dare on this tack, Sebastian and I W11] hail,”
commanded Captain Grenville, and spea -
trumpet in hand, he sprung into the rigging
and waited.

Nearer and nearer came the frigate  the
floating hull, dashing the waves high in air, and
bounding like a chip in a whirlpoo ; nearer and
nearer, until the gallant vesse rushed by, not
half a dozen fathoms away.

Then to eve ear came the mad sounds on
board, and it d indeed seem as though the
wreck were the abode of souls in torment.

“ Ho the wreck! ahoy l” cried Arthur Gren-
ville, hoarsely.

“Ahoy I” ick d hort.

The re 1 came 11 an s

“ Wha {wreck isqthati” yelled Captain Gren-
ville as the frigate swept on.

H The F1 ing Dutchman! bound from Heaven
to Hell! aware !”

A moan broke from the crowded decks of the
frigate at the wild, startling rep] , and with a
mu tered curse upon his lips or Grenville
sprung from the rigging, and’ joined his officers
on the uarter-deck.

“ We , Sebastian, this is wonderful.”

“Wonderful, indeed, Grenville; but did you
note anything culiar in the answers to your
hail?” asked mmodore Brainard, who had
just come on deck, as the frigate passed the

wreck. '

“I thought I noticed more than one vmce in
answer to my hail sir.”

“That was it; the second voice was low and
indistinct, but it certainly, answered you.”

” I observed the same 1: ing, commodore.” re-
plied Wilber Sebastian.

“ Well, the mystery will soon be solved; for
see, the storm is b g away and we w
have pleasant weather,” and Arthur Grenville

 

inted to where the stars were visible through

be black clouds.

It was now midnight, and as the gale died
away the rain demnded in torrents, shuttin
out from sight the wreck, to the great joy 0
the crew.

But the frigate was held on a course in which
the wreck was supposed to drift, and all waited
with intense anxiety the coming of the dawn.

At len h the heavy rain, and dying out of ‘
the win , beat down the sea, and the gray of
dawn appeared in the east, promising that the
lonfil and dismal night would soon ass away.

on the rain ceased; the clouds fted away;
the blue sky was visible; and as dayli ht came
the frigate lay almost becalmed upon 1: 9 sea.

“Wreck ho!”

It was the cry of a midshipman in the fore-
top, and not a mile away was visible the strange
craft that had professed to be that weird and
havenless vessel, the terror of the superstitious
sailors—the Flying Dutchman.

CHAPTER V.
a sranrnmo nmvousnsr.

WITH the calm, and the bright sunlight, the
crew of the frigate were less superstitious, and
Captain Grenvrlle found little difficulty {in get-
ti&a boat’s crew to board the wreck.

mmodore Brainard watched the boat pull

 

‘ swifltgz away from the frigate, saw it approach

the ooner and the crew board, and then cried
quickly:

“Mr. Sebastian, Grenville is signaling us;
what says be?”

“He wishes more men, sir.”

“A , ayl Call awaymygig and I will go to
his ai ,” and the old comm ore descended into
the cabin, to emerge a moment after, armed
with sword and pisto .

The boat was already alongside, filled with
men, and when the commodore had taken his
seat in the stern-sheets, the oars ware let fall,
and the gig flew rapidl over the waters.

In the meantime Art ur Grenville had, as be-

, fore said, boarded the wreck, and came upon a
k on board the frigate; but the fearless old 1

startling and strange scene which at once caus-
ed him to signal for aid to the ' te.

r1118 be -ap roacheddthe wreck 9 83m; wild

e s were eard, an ringing upon ec cut—
£29 in hand, Captain grenville was followed by
men.

The hull indeed was a perfect wreck from
stem to stem. The mainth had been shivered
to splinters down to the deck, and the foremast
was broken ofl, leaving a stump of ten or twelve
feet, while the bulwarks were shattered and‘
full of hu holes.

The doc was seamed and gushed all over, and
but one gun remained on board, and this the
pivot thirty-two on the forecastle.

Beneath the shadow of this, and securely
lashed to it, was a human form, with white face,
wild waving hair, and great hollow, somber

e es.

yThe broad collar of the sailor-shirt was thrown
back, and a circle of dark blue, evidently a
bruise, exfindledadarouérd tthe neckl; whiilfefa cut
was in e e an a as rom a
knife,p::the bared breast.” gas ’

The small feet were here and lacerated, the
shafely hands bleeding; but in the face was a
100 o indomitable pluck and resolution.

“ Great God! it is ou I find thus?" and Cap-
tain Grenville rushe forward, and uickly re-
leased the form from the lashings tha held him

to the gun.

“ sir, I was too weak with loss of blood
wakefu ness and no food to hold on: so I lashed
myself securely to the gun,” was the reply, in a
weak voice.

“Poor fellow! Drink this and you will feel
better,” and Captain Grenville placed a flask of
brandy to the white lips.

After a few eager swallows of the liquor, the
youth said, with a smile:

“We are quits, sir, for you have saved my
me‘aw'”tspeak f t b t 11 h

‘ no oi;u,te me owisitI
find Iyou here, and is the schooner peopled with
how ing demons?”

“ It would seem so, sir, to hear them, and in
fact they are little better, for—”

“ Ah! here is the commodore! New you can
tell us your stogy.”

Commodore rainard advanced quickly, glan-
cin curiously around him.

‘ ell, Grenville, who have you there i" and
he gased upon the youth’s handsome, though
haggard and suffering-pinched face, with ad-
miration.

“ It is the youth who saved my life, sir, in the
attack 11 u the schooner; he was just about to
tell me is story. on, my flne fellow, and
lfit us hes: t7£1111”;th istofllfgmgdore Alfred

, o e an -s i Constitu-
 his”... .. P

e on te y u e commodore

and rep 'ed, p0 lil‘y: ’

“My name is erle, sir, and I was second-
lieutenant on board of this schooner, which was
the Easel of Freelanct; the buiclcfneer."

! on are a con essed te then?” -
ly said mmodore BrainardJ. ’ Stem

“ Yes, sir ” fearlessly replied the outb. “ '
months ago’l was picked up at seayin an 05;:

 

 

Merle, The Mutineer.

5

 

 

boat, and the only survivor of a vessel that
foundered in a storm.

“ Captain Freelance made me his second of-
ficer, and, rforce I accepted. At present I
command t e wreck as you see,”and the youth
smiled grimly, then he added: '

“I beg tosurrender the vessel and crew to
you, sir and he saluted Captain Grenville.

“ An the crew are below decks?”

“ You hear them, sir. ”

j “ All drunk I suppose?”

“ All mad y the time, sir, doubtless. They
have been shut up there smce before dawn the
night you attacked the schooner.”

“How many in all?” _

“Our crew numbered eighty men; but we lost
a number in your attack upon us, several more
fell in a SW16 we .had among ourselves, a
dozen were ' ed by lightning, and how many
are now alive I cannot say.”

“The schooner it was, then, that we saw
struck by lightning}:

“Yes, sir, and t t stroke saved in life.”

“ How mean you, boy?” asked ommodore
Brainard. _

“ The crew of the schooner never liked my
advancement, sir, to an oflicer’s rank, and hated
me—a waif cast u by the sea to the quarter
deck, and because saved the life of this gentle-
man, here, the other night, they saw fit to string
me u to the ard-arm. ’

“ ~Vgith the consent of Freelance?”

“No, no, sir; he was ashore and came 'ust in
time to save me, for which be incurred t e dis—
pleasure of his men; but he cut me down and
carried me to his cabin; see, I bear their mark
on my throat,” and Merle pointed to the bruised
circle around his n

“You do indeed poor boy. Freelance came
just in time,” sai the commodore, a tone of
sym thy in his voice. _ .

“ es, sir, for I was rnsensrble when he cut
me down; but for the not he lost his hfe—”

“ What! Do you s the truth?”

“ Yes, sir Captain reelance isdead,” sorrow-
fully said the youth.

“Slain by his men?”

“Yes, sir; after the schooner ran out to sea
the men came into the cabin and demanded
that I should be given up to them. Whether it
was arranged to take the life of Captain Free-
lance I know not; but he refused to give me up,
struck down the ringleader, and a struggle fol-
lowed, in which the chief lost his life.”

“ The sea is well rid of a most reckless and des-
perate buccaneer, at last.”

“ True, Commodore Brainard, buta manwho,
in spite of his sins, had a noble heart,” warmly
said the youth. ‘

“ With the chief ” continued Merle, “I
was on deck an again swung up with
a rope around my neck; but, just then the light-
ning burst from the clouds, and striking the
mammast shivered it to splinters, while the men
who held the re were struck dead.

“Being in mi -air, I suppose, is all that saved
my life, and, as it was, all to the deck par-
tiallfi stunned.

“ ut, recovering myself, I found that the
wind had torn away the foremast, and the
wreck of the mainmast, and that the schooner
was a mere hulk upon the waters, while, to my
su rise and ht, the frightened crew had

to the ca , and were busydrinkingthe
chief’s wine and liquors, of which there was a
very lar supply on board.

Instan ly the thought seized upon me to re-

venge m self upon my foes, and m a twinan ,
I had cceed and securely barred the cabn
companionway, and then batten‘ed down the
forecastle and ward-room hatches.

“Every one, excepting m if and those kill-
ed by the lightning were low, and armin
myself from the bodies of the slain i awai
the result while the storm increased and the
sea w the dead from the deck, broke the
guns from their lashings, and I believed would
swam the wreck.

“ enever the drunk and maddened crew
below attem ted to break up through the com-
panionway, fired down upon them and with
good effect, for ere lon they vs themselves
up for lost and reveled d canes.

“You know the rest, gentlemen; you hailed
me, and I h you would come on board
yesterday, as became weaker and weaker.”

“But who was it that replied to my hail, last
night?” asked Captain Grenville, 

‘Itwascneof the crew, sir, from t stern
lights. I alsoreplied,butmyvoioe wastoo
weak to reach on.

’ “Now, sir, surrender m f, this wreck,
'and her crew to you,” and erle tendered the
'cu‘tlass‘ hehelgoinhishand. at We ma]:
:- ou are n a r,

gamer}; p33 wilgngyly, as on were not an inten-

cnal {u ; even you been, your
brave conduct would have gained vEon on
from the President. New, Gren lo, at the
men break open the cabin companionway, and
we will see what style of demons we have below
decks."

“ Ay, ay, commodore,” and Ca tain Grenville
gave the order to his men, and e cabin-way
was opened. .

Instantly there rushed forth a score of Wild-

 

ey he -faced bein looking more like
v ed’devfigatlh‘an mortal 15:11, and armed with
Gimmes, pistols and knives, they hurled them-
selves upon the surprised and startled crew.

“Shoot them down! they are wild madman,
all of them,” cried Captain Grenville, springing
forward, and at once a desperate combat be-
gin, the buccaneers uttering wild shrieks and

' bolical huggiter, while they fought with the
frenzy of fien incarnate.

But the fri te’s men doubled them in num-
ber, and coo and fearless, gained the mastery
after a short and desperate conflict, and those 0
the buccaneers who were not slain were bound
securely.

“Great God! this will turn the frigate into a
lunatic as lum! Thank Heaven there are no
more of em!” exclaimed Commodore Brain-
ard, and then, led by Merle, they entered the

cabin.

There a horrible ' ht met their view, an
brave as they were t 066 beholding it
back with a. cry and a shudder.

The rich carpet was torn from the floor, and
fifteen or twenty dead bodies lay in a hen , the
tall form of Freelance surmounting the gh’astly

pile.

Bottles, broken and whole, strewed the floor,
with arms of all kinds and nations, and upon
several spirit casks, emptied of their contents
were dead men seated, tied into position, an
holding in their nervelem hands musical instru-
ments, as though playin upon them.

One held a Violin, ano er a flute, and a third

a gpsnish guitar.

0 the supposed music of this hastly trio the
mad revelers had danced arc the dead pile
of humanity drinking cursing, howling, sing-
ing and laughing, in wild glee, until human na-
ture could stand no more, and one by one they
would sink down to die.

The floor and walls were ttered with blood;
the faces of the dead were lackening with de-
cay, and their eyes were wide open, sightless,
yet staring.

It was a desperate, soul-cu sight, and
no wonder those brave men shru back from
that cabin, which had been the revel-chamber
of maniacs.

At 1e Merle ste into the death—den,
and laid is hand upon e body of the chief.

“ This is Captain Freelance, he said quietl .

The dark face was turned toward them; t e
light fell full upon every bold, fearless feature,
and the black eyes seemed to question them,
thou h dead, while the tall, elegant form was
visib e in all its proportions.

With a bound Captain Grenville sprung for-
ward, and dropping on his knees before the dead
chief cried in a vorce of anguish:

“ Great God! this man is my brother!”

 

CHAPTER VI.
run vnnnnrra.

LEAVING the death-haunted schooner rocking

u n the doc blue sea, a s e scene enact-

in her ca in, I will beg the d reader to
cast a ret ve glance with me to a time a
number of ears before the incidents related in
the forego n chapters of this story; which,
though tinge with fiction, is based on reality,
far more strange and true.

To a sunn southern land, whose shores are
washed by t e waters of the Gulf of Mexico, I
would have the reader come with me and view
apleasant scene, upon a balmy afternoon, not
very long after the close of the 1812 war with
GTgraeetB talilnbrig f ish di h

-0 -war ea ng s crew
under a cloud of canvas, and this is the only '
that dots the blue waters, whose waves spring
up and burst in rainbow showers under the
pressure of the sea breeze.

Along the shore are visible a number of plan-
tation homes, half-embowered in the groves of
area , myrtle and magnolia and. sur-
rcun ed by broad plasma, as they are, and
averloolglng gardens of rgre first? and velztet

wns, e a pear, us w e are, e
abodes of e ch and1 refined, who ave gath—
ered around them every comfort and luxury
that heart could desire.

brooded over the
shrill shriek of the

A silence, inviting re
land, broken only by
eagle from his eyrie, or the s lash cf the al -
tor, asheplunged intohisl insome deep -
goon.

Upon a point of land jutting out from the

, and fo the arm of a small harbor,
stood the handsomest of the houses nice the
shore—a white viii , rambling and boa
tifully situated, for 317m ts wide porticoes could
be viewed far up and down the coast, and in-
land, as the location was somewhat elevated
above the surroun country, and terminated
in a cliff half a bun red fee in hight, at the
base of which the waves fall with heavy roar.

Upon the cliff was a c arbor, or summer-
house, half hidden in vines, and a lovely retreat
from which to view the Gulf, and the shores
upon either side.

Within this arbor were two persons at the
time of which I write, and their eyes were turn-
ed eaiiipon the coming vessel, a league distant, and
h ing toward the point of land.

 

 

The one was a maiden of e' hteen, tall, grace-
ful, and with a dark. rich lglive complexion,
warmed by a sunny clime. er eyes Were dark,
full of fire, and very large and beautiful, while
in her manner there was an irresistible softness
and fascination,

She was attired in a dress of soft, light ma-
te ' and wore about her shoulders, a. dark
mant e of rich lace, which half concealed the
outline of her exquisite form.

Her companion was a young man of perha
""3“"’2°“°”;:."d9‘ 1““ "m "‘"khn r'
an a ace rar y to , w e is
form was above the medium hight, and denoted
strength and activi .

He was clad in t e undress uniform ofa ll;
nior officer in the United States Navy and ’
jaung cap was encircled b a gold cord.

“ e brig comes brave y on, Helen; within
the hour my brother will have landed, and then,
sweet one, you will have to guard well our
heart, for he is dangerously handsome an fas—
cinating I assure you,” and the young officer
smiled at his fair companion, half seriousl .

“ Loving you as I do, Arthur, how can ever
love Launcelot, exce t as a. sister should love a
brother!" reproachf said the maiden.

“ I was but Jesting, elen; but indeed, Lance
is a lendid fellow, and you will admire him :—
a 1i e wild, perhaps, and a restless wanderer,
but with a heart true assteel.

“ From boyhood I have always looked up to
Lance as a rotector, though he is but two
years m sen r; still he seems older, and after
the dent of father he took ch of the plan—
tation. When I became a mid 'pman in the
navy, Lance remained at home with mother,
and would doubtless now be but a humdrum
planter, had it not been-—”

The youngiman used, and the maiden, see-
ing that he id no continue asked:

“Had it not been for what, Arthur! You
remember I have lived here but six months,
and know little of your neighborhood and its
people, exceptin what 1 have learned from
you. But you ook pained; perhaps I should
not ask you more?”

“There is nothing that I will not tell you
Helenfiou are my rorn wife, and should
know ’ t e name you will bear; but
it isapain ulsub ecttome.”

“ Then do not speak of it, Arthur.”

“Yes,Imayas well tell on now as in the
future and have it over wit Have you ever
heard ow m father died, Helen!”

“ Papa tol me he was killed in a duel, and
said I must not speak of it.”

“Yes, he fell by the hand of the man who
owned onder plantation—the fourth from here
—see, e one ad oining m own home,” and the
y man poin down he coast, tcwhathad
once ii an elegant mansion, but was now
wearing the badge of desertion and act.

3ch refer to the Darrington estate

nares; the place of Colonel Ferd Darring-

“'It is deserted now, I have heard and m
maid, Chloe, says it is haunted,” said H’eien, wit
a. ' ht shudder. ‘

“ unted by bitter memories, it certainl‘ylis,
Helen, for four of its masters have fallen a
vendetta with my family, and three of m an—
cestors havealso lost their lives confrcn g a
Darrington for a bitter feud exists between our
“Pitta “’i‘” d g...

ong an my -
er, an hgh l megug’beautyewas feminnocenti;

e ov m grea grand a or an

Darrin y, nevi-{gr .ve him, and
a ew cars 1: marriage.

“ That was the commencement of the vendet~

ta, which cflered up a life every few

13..
til'mg father fell by the hand of Co orei‘elulPer-d

“ P ps here it would have ended, for neith-
erm brotherLancenor in self cared to kee
ug) e red record especia y Lance, as be,
t ink, loved secretly the only child of the colo-
nel Lucille Darrington, whom in some wa be
h met, and who certainly returned t

love.

“ But Colonel Darrington was a bitter man,
andonenightmetLance face to face with his
gaufihtsr, and the result was a challenge to my

er to meet him.
“That was five years just after I left

porno to finiten- the navy; from my mother I
“lance accepted the challen and selected
swords as the weapons, a endid swords-

ls.

“Itwasgran and lance received the the
ofthe colonel, whowoundedhiminthearm, but
he fired in the air.

“ “Ill so infuriated his enemy, that the colo-
ne forward and struck Lance in the
couhhrsew uman
ture,“ 0‘and especiallwgrggovilllluih for h tare?”

e uman In to

broaier challenged Ferd Darring-

kill him, for he knew thatthe

one whose life he had twice spared had killed
our father.

“Eagerly Colonel Darrington accepted, chose

,...._.. -.

-6

x-.. .-...._. -........,..,..~.... M. ...«.~,_....-- .. .

u... . ...._..-._..-._~......_~~._~...~ _... _..._..._....__-, -. v..,_ ..._._... .

Merle, The Mutineer.

_V_ ,-_ . ~ _.

 

 

istols  the weapons, and Lance shot him
‘ hrough the heart.’
“Terrible! Oh! how terrible it must be to

CHAPTER VII.
THE mvsns.
SEVERAL weeks after the arrival of Lance

have one’s life on your hands,” said Helen i Grenville as he was generally called by his in-

Brainard with d
“Butthe t
would to God it
ed 'the death of Ferd Darrington, as

p feeling.
my did not end there, Helen;

Lucille,

but what followed dwarf- .

i

 

timates, elen Brainard sat in her own room
alone, and in deep and painful meditation, for
she had confessed to her own heart, that she
loved the brother of the man to whom she was

when her father was brought hometoher, dead i engaged.

cursed my poor brother most bitterly, and that
night too er own life—”

‘ A fearful sequel!”

“ A fearful sequel indeed, Helen, and one that
well-nigh killed poor Lance; but he strug led
against his sorrow for awhile, and then sit
home, going to sea.

“Two years ago, when I was at home on
leave, he returned; but only for a week, and
now he is in yonder vessel and its commander,
for the service he rendered the Mexicans gained
him rapid promotion.”

“ And does he intend to remain in the Mexi-
can service, hurl”

“No, he writes me that he has resigned his
commission but the Government sent him home
in the vessel he had commanded. He says he
does not intend to leave home again as a wan-
derer, and I hope he will keep his word, for my
mother is gettin old now, and I am kept away
so much he shou d be near to cheer her old age.”

Helen Brainard seemed deeply impressed by
all she had heard, and her thou hts were busy,
as her eyes were turned u n t e a proaching
brighzbove the decks of w ich floate the Mexi-

can g.

Six months before Commodore Brainard had
urchased and fitted up the ole ant house where
e then lived with his beautifu daughter mak-

ing it his retreat when not at sea, and it was
here that Helen had first met Arthur Grenville,
a young ofllcer u 11 her father’s vessel—met
and loved him, as e had her, and the two were
engaged with the consent of the commodore,
who greatl admired the youthful lieutenant,
and knew t at in point of family and wealth he
was second to no suitor in the land.

Sweeping up into the wind the brig of war lay
to, and a boat put off from its side and headed
ahoreward.

‘fBoat ahoyl” called out Arthur Grenville, in
a ringing voice.

The hail was heard b the one for whom it
was intended, and in c ear, manly tones came
floating back over the waters:

“ Ho, the cliff!”

“It is Launcelot’svoice; es, I recognize him
in the stem-sheets,” cried rthur, eagerly, and
raising his voice ain he called out:

“ Lance Grenvil e, alloy! come here!”

“ Ay, ay, old fellow i” cameback the answer,
and the boat’s course was at once changed.

At the landing, Arthur Grenville awaited his
brother, and from the cliff above, Helen Brain-
ard saw s ring ashore the most ma niflcent
specimen 0 manhood she had ever gaze upon.

Strangely like his brother in face, he was yet
a handsome man and his form was several
inches taller, and his shoulders broader.

Tho h but two ears the junior of Arthur,
Lance renville 1 ed much older, and his face
was stern tosomberness, and in his eyes was a
look of constant sadness.

Attired in a stylish uniform, and with his
darkly-bronzed face, Helen Brainard half-ut-
tered the the ht that flashed through her brain
as she beheld nce Grenville coming up the
path toward where she stood:

“ Have I made a mistake in believing that I
loved Arthur?”

“ Helen, this is my wandering brother Cap-
tain launcelot Grenville, of the Mexican Navy,
came home to be a uiet planter; Lance, this is
Miss Helen Brainar , m intended wife, and the
sweetest girl on the Gui shores. ”

Such was the introduction of the two, and the
eyes of the man and maiden met—hers to fall
beneath his earnest gaze, and his heart to give a
great throb, as his hand clasped the one extend-
ed toward him in mating.

“Helen, Lance sen his traps, and his cu-
riosities, on home in the boat, and will remain
to dinner with your good father and myself, b
my invitation, for I wish him to meet the ga —
lant old commodore; then he will drive over
with me in the evening to the plantation, where
I know mother will scold us for not coming
sooner; but she’ll forgive us when she knows
you kept us.”

It was a pleasant , the quartette who
gathered in he dining-h of the commodore’s
mansion that afternoon, and a sum tuous din-
ner, washed down by rare win wit which the
old sailor’s cellar was well sto .

After dinner the carriage was ordered, and
the commodore and Helen drove the brothers
over to their home. '

Knowing what she did of Lance Grenville’s
life, Helen Brainard glanced into his face as the
vehicle rolled b5 the deserted mansion of the
Darringtons, an beheld his eyes wander over
the garden, to where glimmered in the light of
the setting sun, a tall column of marble.

Well she knew that it arose above the Dar-
rington tomb, and the pity in her heart for
Lance Grenville was akin to love; a dangerous
feeling in a woman’s heart.

 

mce his return home, Lance had settled down
to a quiet plantation life, and resumed the
charge of the Grenville estates. He seemed no
longer the restless wanderer and his mother be-
lieved, now, that she would keep him ever near
her while she lived.

As she sat thus in her room in deep thought,
Helen reviewed her meetings with Lance smce
his coming, and she felt that her love for him
was returned, though no word of his had ever
given her cause to feel that he cared for her,
other than as the intended bride of his brother;
still she read his heart, as often a. woman can,
when she is the one adored.

Fretted at the mistake she had made, in con-
fessing her love for Arthur, with an impatient
gesture Helen Brainard arose and leaving her
room, went out for a walk in t e lonely grounds,
for she needed action to keep off her painful
reveries.

Mechanically she sought the gath leading to
the rustic arbor on the cliff, an threw herself
down in a wicker chair, to gaze out over the

sea.

“ A rosebud for your thoughts, Miss Helen.”

The maiden started at the VOice, and beheld
before her a young man, elegantly dressed, and
with a face that would have been ver hand-
some, had it not been marred by dissipation and
recklessness.

In his hand he held a red rosebud, which he
offered her in payment for the thoughts he had
asked to know.

Before coming to her present home, Helen had
met in New Orleans Rosal Abercrombie, who
then stood before her.

He had come of good family, but at the death
of his father, some years before, he had inherited
a large estate which his wild extravagances
soon swam in debt, and from him Commo-
dore Brainard had purchased the elegant home
in which he then lived.

With no mother’s influence to guide his early

ears, for Mrs. Abercrombie had died when her
boy was an infant, and reared by his father, a
man wholly glOVerned by his son, t was no won-
der that Rosa became wild, recklessly extrava-
gant and willful, and threw away his inherit-
ance without thought of the future.

When all was nearly gone, and he was forced
to sell his lantation home to pay his debts, Rosal
Abercrom ie met Helen Brainard, and from the
first meeting loved her, and swore she should
become his wife.

Admiring him much, the maiden had at first
seemed to favor his suit; but after her father
had purchased of the dissolute outh his home,
and she had met Arthur Grenv e, she no longer
cared for Rosal, who, to do him justice, had
given up his wild life, and u n the wreck of

is fortune was living quietly the village near
his former abode.

Though he knew that the maiden was the
promised wife of Arthur Grenville, Rosal Aber-
crombie did not (1 'r of yet winning her, and
was wont to often ri e over to Landhaven, as the
commodore had named his place, to see the ob-
ject of his love.

“My thoughts were not of interest to you,
Mr. Abercombie; but be seated; I am glad you
have come to drive them awa , for the were
not of the pleasantest,” said He en, quiet y.

“Would that I could ever drive from you
that which was unpleasant to on, Helen,’ re-
marked the young man, earnes 1y. '

“Mr. Abercrombie, is this generous, is it hon-
orable in you, when you know I am engaged to
another?”

“ Bah! engaged to one man and loving anoth-
er,” sneered the young profiigate. _ .

“What mean you sir? If you intend to in-
sult me, my father shall know of your impertl-
nence,” an Helen arose to her feet, an angry
flush u 11 her cheeks.

“H on Brainard sit down! I wish to talk
with on. Nay, do not exhibit anger for,
thong becomin in a t degree, t is yell
out of place wit one w o loves you as I do,
and who would make you his wife.”

“ on have often said, and as often have
received in answer: I do not love you,
Abercromb e.” n

“ Still I would have you marry me, Helen.

“Yes you would use me as a steppingvstone,
to get back your old home, which you threw
away by extravagance.”

The man’s brow darkened; but he answered,
calmléy: ‘

“ o, I would marry you because I love you;
had I known you years ago I would not now be
what I am.

“I love you, Helen, with all my soul, and
would haVe you my wife, even though I be
lieved you loved another.”

“ Your love is hopeless, Rosal,” protested
Helen, with some kindness in her tone; and then
she added:

 

“ I could not commit such a sin as to marry
one man and love another.”

“ Then I sup e on will break your engage-
ment with Art ur renville?” '

“ What do 911 mean, sir?”

" Simply t at you love Lance Grenville,
though engaged to Arthur.”

I “d "gain you insult me, sir, and upon my own
an .

“ If the truth offends, so be it; I tell on that
which you dare not deny, and I would ow you
a way out of your present difficulty.

“ I have read your secret Helen Brainard,
and I have read his secret love for you, and
{amiable hangs like a suspended knife above your

ea .

“Be warned, Helen, and cause not trouble be-
tween those two brothers; they are noble fel-
lows, yet they are high-strung and passionate
and the secret will leak out, and the green-eyed
monster, jealousy, may make one or the other
of them a Cain.

“ Break with them, Helen, and marry me.”

The maiden razed upon the man before her
with a wild look in her eyes and a white face.

She knew well that he spoke the truth.

And she dreaded that her secret might yet be
known and then trouble would come.

She had not intended being untrue to Arthur-
but it was her intention to keep her pledged
word to him, and become his wife even though
Lance Grenville had fascinated her from her
love for his brother.

Now she felt that her secret, hardly more than
admitted to her own breast, was in the pos-
session of a reckless man—one whom she felt
loved her, and would ain her for his wife by
fair means if he co d, by foul means if he
must. ‘

It was no wonder then that she turned a fright-
ened face toward Rosal Abercrombie, but her
ton e would utter no word.

“ ou have heard me, Helen; in a week I will
come for my answer.

“ See, 1 offer myself to save you from doing _

that which may be a great crime.

“I ofler you my whole love. I am not yet a
beggar, for I have enough to live on and for
vou I will work with eve energyl possess.
Farewell! In one week I w' 1 come for my an-
swer.”

The man turned, walked toward the mansion,
and a moment after Helen saw him dash away
on horssback, and a deep sigh escaped her lips. ,

“ Poor Helen i” ‘

The maiden started with a cry of alarm, andi
turned quickly.

Before her stood the tall, elegant form of
Lance Grenville!

He was in hunting costume, buckskin suit,
top-boots and slouch hat, and stood leaning upon
the muzzle of his rifle.

The arbor was divided into three com rt-
ments—a center one, o n seaward and and-
ward, and here Helen ad been seated when
joined by Rosal Abercrombie.

U 11 either side of this open hall were two
sma l rooms—one used as a smoking and card-
room, the other as a reading retreat for warm

da 5.

' IE) the doorway of the latter now stood Lance
Grenville, his dark face stern and ashen, and his
somber eyes still more sorrowful.

f‘ Pardon me, Helen, for having been an
eavesdropper—I was strolling along the beach,
shooting water-fowl, became fatigued and came
here to rest, ex tin to disturb no One.

“ I dropped 0 to s eep, lulled by the wash of
the waves, and your voices in conversation
awakened me, and I would have made my pre-
some known had I not heard that which caused
me to remain uiet, for I cared not that Rosal
Abercrombie s ould know I was present. Am I
pardoned for eavesdropping?”

“ Yes; but oh! what have you not heard?”
groaned the unha py girl.

“ I have heard at which would make me ex-
tremely happy, were my joy not purchased with
my brother’s misery.

‘ Did Rosal Abercrombie the truth,
Helen, when he said you c for me more
than for Arthur?”

“He did.”

“ You confess it?”

“ With humiliation, yes.”

“It is not humiliating to confess one’s love,
Helen, for I tell you that I love you with my
who]: heart, now that the secret is no longer my
own.

Helen gave a half-cry, as if of joy, of sorrow,
and alarm mingled.

Before her stood the noble man who had just
confessed his love forher.

But he drew not nearer to her;his rifle he had
leaned agglust the door, and his arms were fold-
ed upon 's broad breast.

For a moment a deep and painful silence fol-
lowed his words. _

Then Lance Grenville continued slowly and in
his strangely soft tones:

“ It is a great 10y, Helen, to know that you
love me, and yet it is a sorrow unspeakable, for
it comes from the lips of one who is betrothed
to one dearer to me than all other men—m y bro-
ther Arthur.

“ For me you feel but a passing fancy, a fas-

Merle, jThe Mutineer.

 

.—_

cination that will fade away as soon as  am
one from here, and your noble breast Wili‘go
ack to its first allegiance, and on will won r
how it could have strayed into orbidden fields.
"But, once again, ere I leave you, Helen, let
my ears drink in the sweet words and my heart
clasp close this phantom love; te me on love
me, and if it were not for Arthur, t at you

would be my wife.” _

“ I love you, Lance Grenville,” assmnately
said the maiden, adVancing toward 

But he held her off, and said in a 10w voice:

“No: your ii 5 are sacred to him. If my bro-
ther were to (lie I would claim you then, but
not while he lives.

“ Helen Brainard, farewell forever.”

Quickly the strong man turned, and walked
away down the cliff ath, and, her heart wrung
with an ish, Helen rainard threw herself up-
on the oor and leaning upon the wicker chair
buried her face in her hands.

CHAPTER VIII.
CAIN accunsnn.

SOBBING bitterly, Helen Brainard remained
Some time in her rfect abandon of grief.

Then she star , for a light touch fell upon
her shoulder.

“Ah, Lance,” she burst forth, “I knew that
you would not leave me thus.”

« “It is not Lance Helen.”

With a bound, like an enraged lioness, Helen
Brainard was upon her feet.

Before her stood Arthur Grenville! .

“ You! you have heard my words, sir?” she
said savagely.

“I behold on here in t grief, Helen.
Your father to d me I won] find you here, and
I heard on speak the name of my brother in
strange nes. His rifie stands therel and I saw
him ing up the beach, a moment since.

“ at does it all mean, Helen?”

The maiden made no reply, and after a mo-
ment Arthur Grenville continued:

“ I will speak for you, Helen, and not in anger
will I say a word.

“ You will remember when we stood to ether
and awaited the coming of my brot er?”
es,” broke from the white lips.

“ Then I told you, half in earnest, for I seemed
to feel a presentment of coming evil, not to fall
in Love with Lance.

“Shall I tell you, Helen, that I have lately
seen that such has been the easel

“,Yes, Helen, you love my brother, and not

e

Still the maiden uttered no word, and the man
went on:

H

“ I rode over this afternoon to break in en-
gagement with on, and to say filed-by—

‘ No, no, no, not leave me, hurl” groan-
ed the unhappy ' 1.

“Yes, I inte ed to rejoin my ship at once.
and beg to be sent cruising in the southern wa-
ters after buccaneers and never to return, until

on were the wife of Lance Grenville, for I know
ow well you two love each other.”

“ No, no, Arthur! I do not love him; you
only do I love and I swear it.
ti “ 35y regar for him was adoration—fascina-

on.

“ You mistake, Helen; you love Lance, as he
does Iyou, and our engagement is at an end.

“ enceforth you are but as a sister to me.”

n The maiden stretched forth her hands beseech-
iugly toward him, and her li
word came. from them—her
breaking With the intensity of her feelings.

“Helen, I dare not tone your hand; I dare
not-yes, for this once only, and it is my fare
well to love.”

Springlng forward he seized her in his strong
arms-— ‘ressed her an instant to his breast, kim-
ed her ips once, twice, thrice, and then turned
away: turned away, not seeing that she had
sunk in a hea upon the floor of the arbor,
wholly uncon ous.

moved; but no
eart was almost

With rapid steps Arthur Grenville sought the -

mansion, ' rung upon his waiting horse, and
dashed 3 fly away. ust as the sun went down
in the blue waters of t e .

An hour after sunset, nee Grenville return
ed tohis elegant home, where his mother was
awaiting tea for him.

He looked _ and haggard, and lancin
anxiously into stern face, his mother q
if he were ill.

“No, mother; bodil I am all right; but

heart and brain are ering,” he answered, bit-
ter .
“fly poor, r boy,” said the fond mother,

remembering ow he had suffered in the past,
after the death of Colonel Darrington by his
hand and the suicide of poor Lucille.

“Mother!”

“Well Launcelot?” and Mrs. Grenville was
almost frightened at the tone of her son’s
voice.

“ It is useless trying: I cannot remain here; I
will leave home once more.” .

“Not soon, I trust, Launcelot‘l” said the mo-
ther her heart sinking with dread. _ .

“Yes, to-morrow; ay, tonight—Within the
hour,” he announced. earnestly.

“ And whither would you go, my Soiir”

“Anywhere, everywhere! back to Mexico,
and again take command of a cruiser. _

“ Does not David sail tonight for New Orleans
with marketing?”

“Yes, but—

“ Then I shall go with him; I will atonce pack
my trunk, so please send word not to let the
lug er sail without me.”

‘ ut you will miss seeing Arthur?” said Mrs.
Grenville, trying by some ruse to detain him if
she could.

“ He went over to Landhaven, I suppose?”

“ Yes, Lance.”

“ Then he will not return until late; bid him
good-by for me,” and the unhappy man left the
tea-room.

In an hour’s time he returned, dressed for
traveling‘, and accompanied by a. negro servant
bearing is trunk.

Borrowing for her son, whom she believed was
flying from the cruel memories that haunted
him when at home, Mrs. Grenville bade him
farewell with many tears, and entreaties not to
remain long away from her.

" I am getting old fast, Lance; see my hair
is white now, and ere long you will have no
mother.

“ The sorrows I have had, have left their im-

ress here,” and she laid her hand upon her
eart

“ If you remain away long, my son, on will
find no welcome from me upon your re , for
I will be sleeping yonder,” and she pointed to a
grove of trees at the other end of the garden,
where, for generations, the Grenvilles had been
laid in their last resting- place.

“ If you die mother, I shall never return
home; you are the only anchor that I have to
hold me here,” and he drew his mother toward
him, imprinted a kiss upon the silver hair and
was gone.

With quick, heavy ste he walked down to-
ward the landing, a few undred yards distant,
followed by the servant bearing his tra .

At a small ier lay a lug er, a p tation
trading-boat, t e sails up, an the negro crew,
of three men, awaiting his coming.

“ Well, Dave, I am to be your passenger to
New Orleans.” /

“So missis sent word, an’ I has had
the cabin flxt up as nice as possible ” said the
black pper, politely, then he added: “ I’se
sorry to see you goin’ away so soon, sah.”

” must 0, Dave; but I will remain on deck,
on a blanke if I care to sleep, for the ni t is
too beautiful to 0 into the cabin,” and nce
Grenville glan out over the moonlit waters,
for a full moon rode in the cloudless heavens.

“ Are you ready now, Dave?”

“Yes, sah, if on is massa.”

“Thencasto , forI am most anxious to be
awa ,” impatiently said Lance Grenville, and
ghe gger was slowly swung round to catch the

reeze.

“ Hold on there with that craft! put back to
the wharf, or I wm fire on you i”

The words were loud and determined, and is-
sued from the lips of a horseman, who dashed
down to the pier, followed by a score of com-
panions, also mounted.

“ Put back, Dave; on have not been stealing,
I hop?” said Lance renville, calmly.
ti “” o, sah; but dat am do new sheriff, sah, sar-

n.

In another moment the lugger was again
alongside the ier, and Lance Greenville sprung
ashore, and ed, sternly:

“Of what has my servant been guilty, gen-
tlemen, that you come after him, mounted and
armed?”

“ It is not your servant we are after, Ca tain
Grenville, but yourself,” answered sheriff ins-
ton, laying his hand upon the arm of the young
man

‘.‘ Indeed! of what am I accused?” sneeringly
demanded Lance Grenville.

“ You are guilty of as base a crime as—”

The man said no more, for a blow, fair in the
face laid him his length upon the ground.

“ Hold! Lance Grenville, you cannot escape,”
and adozen pistols were leveled u n him.

“ I seek not to escape; I but punished one who
said I W's} guiltyof a basecrime; of what am I
accused

He turned haughtin upon those who confront-
ed him.

Then one dismounted and"
him - it was Rosa] Abercrombi:limped toward

“ 66 poor frien the charge against
Eou, i: a severe one, and Igust itean bepnoven

“ llama it, sir.” 4 .. i

“ Murder.”

“ Murder! Who have I urdered‘l’land Lance
spoke half-eamestlykhflf-lraughingly,
ur.

mum

e name i-ued from theli of Real
Abercrombie, the hand of Launcelot?8 Grenville
was upon his throat, and he was hurled back
With a force that nearly stunned him.

“ Liar! wretchl you dare make that charge
against me i”
_ “ It is a severe charge, Captain Grenville, and
it remains with on to prove it untrue,” said an
i old planter, com ng forward.

“Arthur, my brother, Arthur dead 3’”

 

F

 

“ He is sir.”

“Who killed him i"

“ You are accused of his murder.”

“ 1! why should 1 kill poor Arthur?”

“ Captain Grenville,” and the sheriff approach-
ed, cautiously: “ Captain Grenville, I am very
sorry, sir, but it is my duty, sir, to arrest you
upon the charge of murder, and I must iron you,
as already we know how violent you can be.”

The head of the proud man dropped on his I
breast, and a deep n broke from his lips, as
he stood a moment in silence.

Then he said, calmly, facing his accusers, and
holding his wrists together:

“ Do your duty, sir.”

The manacles were clasped upon his wrists,
and the party set off for the mansion.

As they ascended the broad ste of the piazza
another deep sorrow fell 11 n e risoner—a
sorrow almost greater than could r.

At the door a servant met him, and from his
lips broke the words:

“ Massa Lance, your poor mother am dead.”

“Dead! in mother dead, too?”

He spoke 1i 9 one in his sleep.

“ Yes, sah: when de emmans comed an’ tole
herbow you had kill assa Art'ur, den she lay
down on de sofa an’ die, " said the old ne , the
faetotum of the Grenville mansion, w en his
younghmasters were little boys.

Wit a can from his inmost heart, Launce-
lot Grenvi le sunk down in a chair, and buried
his face in his manacled hands.

CHAPTER IX.
a mason: common

“ I HAVE come for in answer, Helen.”

Helen Brain rd sat a one in the sea-view arbor
on the clifl, an her eyes were lookin fixele
out over the sunlit waters of the Gul , though
they apparent] saw nothing, as she seemed lost
in bitter thoth

Her face was blanched, her eyes deep-sunken,
and her haggard looks proved that she had suf-
fered, in t week that had , since she
last sat in that arbor and was left there in a
deep faint by Arthur Grenville.

Like a li tning stroke, the news had come
upon her, at Arthur Grenville was dead, and
that h'n brother was his murderer!

For days she had lain in a kind of demi-stupor,
conscious, yet utter-in no word- but at last she
had left her room, an ,to her father’s delight,
had joined him at breakfast that very morning,
a week from the day of the murder.

As though determined to shut out the past,
she had gone about her duties with a quiet man- .
ner, for she was her father’s housekeeper, and
then she satdown to the piano and idly ran her
i! rs over the keys; but the air she
dri of! into a dir and seisin her unfinish-
ed novel, she walk out toward he arbor.

But not to read, for bitter memories thron
upon her, and her face soon became as col as
marble; but in her eyes dwelt a strange light.

“ I have come for my answer, Helen.”

The maiden did not start; she knew who ad-
dressed her and she said, quietly:

“ I am glad you have come, Mr. Abercrom-
bie; I wish to talk with you.”

A bri ht look crossed the man's face, and en-
terin t e arbor be seated himself upon a settee.

“ in my heart I pity you, Helen.”

“ Do you? was the calm reply.

“Indeed I do; it came so soon, so unexpected-
ly u 11 you.”

“ on are withouta rival now)"

It was halwa, half aquestion, and there
was a sneer in her tone.

“ Yes- one dead, and one in prison and as
well as corned—this is why [came to beg you
to let me have the right to comfort you in your

sorrow.
“ The world need not know; only give me the
that you will become my wife. I told
Lion I would return in one week, and, th I
ew your sorrow was overwhelming, I ve
come.’ ‘
The man pleaded earnestly, and his voice
trembled.
After a silence of a moment, Helen said:
“I am glad on have come, for I would learn
from you all a t this cruel murder. ”
“From me! Wh , did not your father tell
asked Rog in su rise. A
me that Arthur nville had fallen
by the hand of his brother; that was all I then
cared toknow. Now [will hear all from you.”
“ I will make known all that I can tell of the
aid affair, Helen, in which, unfortunately, I was
to take a too W ” ‘
“You!” and the eyes'tumed' I earndstly upon
his face. ~' " A; ‘
“Yes; the word mtcamote meof the mur-
der." '» ‘II I!

“I am listening,” as Rosal Abercrombie

paused.

“ Well, you know I left you here, the other
afternoon, and I rode down the beach to the
cabinof old Beal the fisherman, intending to
en him and his craft for a day’s sport.

I did not find Bea] at home, and on return-
ing met him, just after dark, a mile from here,
at the White Cliff, and he held in his hand a
dark object, which he informed me was a coat.

“I took it, and by the bright moonlight reo-

 
   

  

8

Merle, The Mutineer.

*W—w -———-— -—_.. -..

 

 

 

 

ognized it as the coat worn by Arthur Gren-
ville, and, from Bea], I learned that a terrible
tragleidy had taken place.

‘ e was ofl shore fishing in his small boat,
and at sunset saw a horseman ride out 11 n the
cliff, and he ' ur Grenv' e, who
seemed to be gazing seaward, as though in
search of a sail.

“ A moment, he said that Arthur remained
there and then he saw  fall from his horse,
and the report of a rifle reached his ears.
' “He was so surprised at what he beheld that

he remained motionlea, and then by the light
of the rising moon, he saw a tall form run out
upon the cliff, from the pine thicket, and bend
over the body of Arthur Grenville.

“A moment he remained thus, and then he
arose, bearing the body in his arms, and hurled
it from the chfl.’ into the sea.

“ For awhile he stood after the deed, and then
walked rapidl bac kto the pine thicket, and Bea]
Eext beheld m dash away upon a white

orse.

“ Then the fisherman remained inactive no
longer, and hastil rowed shoreward, and
searched for the y, but without success, and

oing ufon the cliff he found the coat, hat and

cots 0 Arthur Grenville, for such I recognized
them to be.

“From this description of the‘murderer, ‘ a
very tall man, riding a white horse,” I felt that
it must be Lance Grenville, for you know I had
drgaYled nonbflejmodi ' kl l'zed

es, our ore n were quic yrea i .
What di you then do, goal?”

There was a strange calmness in the manner
and tone of the woman, and Rosa] Abercrombie
doubted if she had loved Arthur Grenville as
well as he had believed, or his brother at all.

“I felt it in duty to cause the arrest of Lance
Grenville, an I so ht the sherifl, while Bea]
went after several 0 the planters, and we met
at the residence of the Grenvilles, and to add to
our suspicions, learned that Lance had just left
home for an indefinite period, going by the mar—
ket lu ger to New Orleans.

“ While several of the party remained at the
mansion, to acquaint the poor mother with the
sad tidings we dashed down to the ier, and
captured the murderer, but not unti he had
knocked the sherifl down, and roughly handled
me.

“ Poor Mrs. Grenville] How terrible must
have been her sorrow I”

. “Her sorrows were soon at an end; she died
from”the shock, as you know she had heart-dis-
ease.

Helen Brainard started, and her form trem-
bled violently, for she had dear] loved the no-
glje old lady to whose son she been betroth-

After a long silence, which Rosa! Abercrombie
would not interru t Helen asked:

i‘ end has“. Gog“, was we:

‘ es, e t e ' e on y c

“When willhebetri i”

“In two weeks.”

“There isno proof that Lance Grenville is the
murderer.”

“ Yes, he was seen by Bea], and—”

“ How far 03 was Beal!”

h“ well, say two hundred yards from the
s ore.’

“Did he say that it was Lance Grenville did
the deed?”

“What a Yankee you are for questions
Helen! He said it was a ver large man, an
that he rode away on a white orse, after throw-
in the body into the sea.”

e body was never found, was it?”

“ No; it drifted out with the tide, and the

hegch, for miles, has been searched in vain for

t.

“ The descri tion of the murderer answers to
Lance Gren e, certainly; still itma not have
been, and a court will ask many qu ons before
he is condemned on that evidence.”

“You need ofler no excuse for the man you
love Helen, for—”

“ once, sir] I tell m that better evidence
must be found to hang ce Grenville, and Ro-
sa] Abercrombie, you must find it I”

“Great God!”

The man was on his feet inaninstant; but the
maiden was perfectly serene, a strange smile
upon hw, a stran look in her eyes.

“ In s name w do you mean, Helen

Brainardi”

“ Just what I say, sir- you must find evidence
that will hang Lance renvllla for the murder
of his brother Arthur.”

“ I thought you loved Lance Grenville l" gasp-

ed the man uirin l
$.33, gas a fascination, an in-

“ I M
fstuation.

“ And Arthur Grenville?”

“ Was in first, last and on] love.”

The Indian spoke with painful earnestness,
and looked the man before her squarely in the

face.

“ You have just found this out?”

‘-‘ Yes, when he is dead, and his brother is his
murderer.”

And you wish now to have Lance Gren-
ville—”

 

The eyes fairly biased now, and the life
bloodless; the man was fairly frighten .

“ Rosa] Abercrombie I hate Lance Grenville .

as fervently as I loved  brother, and I am re—
vengeful, and he must die, and you. must supply
the evidence necemary to condemn him.”

“ I know not how.”

“ I will show you. Go into that arbor, look
behind the door, and then tell me what you dis—
cover.”

The man quietly obeyed, and returning, said
in a whis r:

“ It is race Gremn‘lle’s rifle."

“Yes; he left it here one week ago to-day—
can it not be made use of?”

H  3”

“ See if it is loaded.”

“ It is not, ” said Rosa], after an examination.

“ It was fired last a week a 0, then cannot
an expert tell by examination i a firearm has
just been dischar ed, or—”

“ Yes, I unders nd; tell me iyl'lour plan,” said
the man, an evil look creeping to his eyes. .

“If you found the rifle near the White 01133
—hidden in the fine straw, and—”

“Helen Brainard, you are a very devil for
lottingl This evidence will be sufficient to
an him.”

" t may, and it may not; there must be

more.”

“ How and when can I get it?”

“See the prosecuting attorney and tell him
that, in my 'ef, I said to you that m testi-
fin’iny woul bang Lance Grenville, if gave

“ Your testimony?”

“Yes; one week ago Lance Grenville stood
where you do now, and said to me that which I
will make known before a court, if I am called
as a witness.”

“You shall be there;
against Lance is fearful.”

“ I hate as I love—with my whole soul; now
take the rifle and go.”

“And my rewardi—for I do this for you
alone Helen.”

“The day that Lance Grenville is sentenced
to be hung, I will pied myself to become your
wife, 11 ii any da af one ear from Arthur
Grenvi le’s death t at you wil name.”

“By Heaven! do you mean it?” and a look of
triumph shot into the eyes of the man.

“I do, and with me you will get back this,
your old home and the bones of your ancestors,
which you sold to my father."

The sneer in the words caused Rosa] Aber-
crombie to turn deadly pale; but he said, as
calm] as he could:

“ on will love me then, Helen?”

“No; thatis not in my compact with you—I
loved Arthur Grenville living, and I love his
memo now; I will hate you, but I will be
your Wife. ”

“ Enough‘ I am content with my com . I
will indeed be envied, for the world w on]?'
seethat my bride is in the  ofanan ,
anennot behold that she has e heart 0

e

“True, but you will know me as I am—as I
know you, Rosal Abercrombie. Goodevening
sir,” and the revenge-crazed woman swept
haughtily from the arbor while Rosa] Aber-
crombie took up the tell-tale rifle, muttering to
magi“: bea t I will be aged

‘ y, my u , reve on you,
too, for casting me): aside for Arthur Grenville.
Yes I will gain my beautiful wife, and her
olden dower, and once again have back the

ome of my forefathers.

“ Ha! ha! ha! Helen Brainard, two can 7play
at the game of revenge, as you shall know.

CHAPTER X.
GUILTY!

Tin: morning, upon which the trial of Lance
Grenville, for the murder of his brother, com-
menced broke bright and balm , and the little
village in which was the court- ouse and jail,
was crowded overwhelmingly, as early as sun-

rise.

At the appointed hour, the prisoner and his
counsel came into the court-house, the judge
took his seat, the jglof twelve men was im-
panneled and the

The fisherman, Henry , was the first call.
ed, and he told his story in a straight way, as it
is already known to the reader, and never
swerved from it, when under the cross-examin-

but your revenge

 

ation of the defendant’s lawyers.

“m °tm3s ed £2“??? .fiu" “$33
and dee n ave
friend y Grenville; but he was orced to

’out, and tell how he had met Baal, the
herman and bad W Lance Grenville
of being the murderer mm the fact that it was
a large man who did the deed, and was mount-
ed upon a white horse;also, he said he had dis-
covered that the prisoner loved the lady to
whom his brother was engaged.

Then he told how he had visited the scene of
the murder a week after, and the sunlight shin-
ing on a bri ht ob set had caught his eye, and,

e the ne straw, he had found the

hi
Sizhgifgedrifle that all knew as belonging to'
re

Lance nville.
The prisoner‘s fncc hero flushed, but he made

l

\

were i no other
' t

l

!

 

sign that he heard the testimony
him; he was calm to indifference, and
his face wore the same somber look that it
always had resting upon it, except when in con-
versation.

The rifle _was exhibited in court, and many
recognized it as the weapon of the prisoner.

Several other witnesses were then brought for-
ward who testified to the flight of Lance Gren-
VIlle the night of the murder, and his resistance
to the sheriff, and his attack on Rosa] Aber-
croinbie, for the acts of the prisoner on that oc-
casion, were now, under the charge ‘ t him,
interpreted as an attempt to beat 08 Eis captors.

Then the last witness came to the stand—a
woman.

It was Helen Brainard, leaning on the arm of
her father.

She was in dee mourning, and when she
threw back her was , her face was as white as
marble, and all pitied her.

In a slow tone, yet fearfully distinct in utter-
ance, she answered the questions put to her by
the attorneys:

“ You knew the prisoner well?”

“ I did. ”

“ Were you betrothed to his brother, Arthur
Grenville?’

u I was. 7]

“ Did the prisoner ever tell you that he loved
you?”

“ He did.”

“ When i”

“ The day of the murder.”

” Did he make any threats against his bro-
ther?”

“He did not.”

“ I have been told that in your grief you made |

use of this expression:
_ “ ‘ Lance Grenville is guilty, for he asked me
if his brother were dead would I become his
wife.’ Did you say this?”

“ I fearnl did, in my great grief at what had

oocu .

“Did he ask you ‘if his brother were dead
won]; you become his wife?’ ”

H “.

a1il'he answer came faintly, yet was heard by

Still Lance Grenville made no sign that he
heard; his stern face hid every emotion he felt,
for he mourned a brother, whom it was said his
band had slain; he mourned for his poor dead
mother; had lost forever the woman of his love,
and the gallows loomed up baldly before him.

It was a terrible strain upon him—yet he
showed no sign that he suffered.

The attorneys defending the prisoner seemed
now to 10m hope; but they struggled for his life
nobly, and the case was given over to the ju .

Without leavmg their seats they returned t e
verdict:

“ uiltyl”

Still no change in that marble face until the
words of the udge in his sentence—“hung by
the neck un ' dead—dead—deadl”

Then a flush, as though of shame, crossed
brow and cheeks and the doomed man was led
awa —-led back to his lonely cell to await his
deat upon the gallows;

Slowly the days dr their weary length
along to the condemn man; but he had no
hope in life and he longed that the end might
come; in the grave he would find rest, and
then, some day in the far future, it would be
found that he ad been falsely accused; that he
was not the Cain-accursed man a jury of his
peers had renounced him.

At lengt the .day of execution rolled around,
and between pity, morbid curiosit and idle-
ness, hundreds were present to beho d the sick-
emng spectacle of a man hung like a dog b the
neck, by his Christian fellow-meu—to see lood
washed away with more blood; to behold a
legal murder called ustice, and winked at by
society and'the eh I whose prayers waft the
silent ,criminal into ‘ stems] joy beyond the
grave.

God in Heaven] where is the difference,
whether twelve men kill a fellow-hem by
stranlgling him With a rope, quietly, ca 111] ,
cruel y condemn him to die, or one man, in t e
frenzy of pamion, for hate, or for wron done
him, or even for gold and ain, kills ano her?

I ask where is the d erence—which the
greater sin? .

The question is open to all lovers of capital
“till?” hed '

anc face, but fearless mien and
steady tread, Launcelot Grenville ascended the
gallows to meet his doom, gated upon by the
ga ing crowd.
avin back the minister who approached
him, as t o h it were mockery to hold prayer
there, and or him, a ' ‘man, he
motioned to the sheriff that he was ready, and
calmly faced his silent and attentive audience.

The fatal noose was ad b the willing
sheriff, who had not forgotten the blow in the
face, given him the night of the arrest, and the
words of doom were near] spoken, when the
clatter of hoofs was h and a horseman
dashed up; like the wind, the crowd moving
right and eft to let him pass, eager for news,
eager for still greater excitement, and wonder
mg; some were hoping.

t2,“

1.5

 

‘—

 

9

 

Merle, The Mutineer.

 

But the horseman drew his splendid white
steed back at the ga110ws steps, and a cry broke
from his lips:

“ ’Fore God! please let me tole my poor massa
goohby.”

It was only a negro—the slave of the doomed
man.

It was Dave, the captain of the market lug-

er.
g None had the heart to refuse him, and he
sprung up the steps, eagerly pushing aside all
who opposed him, in his excitement, and rushed
to tho side of Lance Grenville, half—clasping him
in his arms, and muttering words unheard by
the crowd.

Whatever those words were, they had a magic
effect on the prisoner—his arms were unpinion-
ed, the cut rope falling at his feet, and in each
hand was a double-barreled istol.

Springing forward, he hur ed the sheriff from
the gallows platform to the ground and with a
mighty bound he was upon the bac of his own
steed.

“ Stand aside, alll”

In i'ingin tones the words broke from the
fig‘isoner’s li ‘, and the animal he bestrode

unded wil ly forward.

There was a wild shout, several attempts at
capture, the rattle of firearms, and the white
steed was of! like the wind, a crimson stream

tiring down his white flank, but still bearing
iis master on. '

In mad haste the officers of the law started in
pursuit; but none were mounted, and the fa '-
Eive gained rapidly, and soon disappeared in t e

crest.

But the crowd pressed on, and after a hard
run reached the beach, whither the fugitive had
gone.

There they beheld the Grenville lugger, known
to be the fastest sailer on the coast, standing off
and on, half a mile from the shore, and a small
boat pulling swiftly toward it.

At the ears were two negroes, tuggin hard,
and in the stern sat Launcelot Grenvx le, his
hand upon the tiller.

Upon the beach, beneath the shadow of the
white cliffs, lay the steed—-foam-covered, blood-
stained and dead.

Still looking, and werless to prevent, the
S ctators beheld the t reach the lugger, and
t e fugitive and oarsmen spring on board.

Then the boat was cast adrift, and the swift
lugger stood down the coast, heading close in to-
ward Landhaven Point, the home of Commo-
dore Brainard.

The cause of this move was soon known to the
lockers-on.

A horseman rode like the wind along the

_ h, sprung from his steed, seized a small
skiff, and went flying out to head 03 the lug-
891‘. Which he soon boarded.

t was Dave, the slave who had saved his
master’s life. '

“Captain Dave,” as he was called, who had
fearlessly and skillfully plotted to saw Launce—
lot Grenville from the gallows, and had success.
fully carried out his plot, and, when he saw, as
he  expected, that he was forgotten in the
excitement of the prisoner’s escape, he had tied
for his life, and mounting a horse he had placed
in waiting, had ridden away to reach the lug-
ger down the coast.

In the few words, spoken on the allows,
Dave had told his lot, severed the ban 5 of the
PUSOUOI‘. placed t e pistols in his ban and,
With the reckless courage of his nature, ce
GrenVille had saved himself from an ignominious
death.

CHAPTER XI.
ARTHUR GRENVILLE’S away.

I WILL now return to the schooner, which had
become a charnel-house, as it were, through the
mad revel of be;- imprisoned crew.

When Captain Arthur Grenville’s startling
cry made known that Freelance the Buccaneer
was his own brother, the unfortunate and un-
haplii); Ifnoe.rd00u(limodorefl 1331mm hate pel?
quic 0N8. an gmd x at t e
stern fyace of the dead chief. y ’

“ Bafore God] it is indeed your brother I” he
exclaimed, and then he ve orders to have the
bOdy Prepared for b , while the dead buc-
caneers were thrown into the m

A moment did Cagtgm Grenville knee] in Ii-
lent grief, and then e name, his {we p.19 “(1
full of sorrow. ‘

QPoor Lance] to think such should be his
en 1
“ Commodore Brainard he had a noble heart
and it was his terrible Indexing: that drovehini

this.

" Launcelo-b Grenville, my brother Freelance
the Buccaneer. It is indeed hard tb believe,”
and he upon the dead form a. his men
bore it rom the cabin, and forge - 3 his own
sufferings, Merle the waif turned in pity upon
him.

“He told me, sir, that circumstances, over
which he had no control, made him a pirate,
and he seemed so glad that I had saved your
life.” said the youth, uietly.

“Yes, he ever 10V8( me as I loved him, as I
love his memory now.

“Fools! did they think that Lance could

 

 

raise hand against my life?” angrily said Ar-
thur Grenvil e, referring to those who had,
long years before, condemned him to death for
a murder that had not been committed.

“ Some time, my young friend, I will tell you
the whole sad sto of how he was wronged;
but now let us to uty, for action will drown
my thoughts.

“ I suppose you know all that the schooner
contains?

“ Yes, sir; there is considerable booty on
board, and a quantity of gold and jewels—I
have the key to the iron chest, which is here,”
and Merle placed his foot upon a trap-door in
the floor.

“The booty must go to the frigate’s crew; to
what you wish help yourself.”

“ And the papers and private property of the
chief, sir, I wil turn over to you.”

“ I thank you,” said Captain Grenville, sadly,
and o ning the trap-door a chest was revealed,
boun with iron.

This Merle also unlocked, and a rich treasure
was before the eyes of the three, for Commo-
dore Brainard was also present; it was the accu—
mulation of years of crime— old and jewels
equal to many thousands of do are.

“ Boy, take that which you desire,” said Com-
modore Brainard. ' -

The youth took up a broad band of gold, in
which was set a single diamond of imperial size
and beauty.

“This 1 have often seen Captain Freelance
wear; I will take it in remembrance of him—it
is all I care for ” and he placed the ring upon the
little finger of his left hand.

“ Here is an inlaid box of rare workmanship.
See, it is addressed to you!” and Captain Gren-
ville handed the box to the youth, who eagerly
glanced at the superscri tion.

It was addressed as f0 ows:

“ A LEGACY 'ro
“MERLE THE WAIF
“ FROM
“FREELANCE THE BUCCANEER.”

The box was locked and no key was found to
fit it, so the youth placed it aside, to await a
more fitting 0 portunity to open it.

A bundle 0 papers marked w'th the chief’s
name—“Launcelot Grenville,” were taken by
his brother Arthur, who also a propriated a
watch, which he knew had been t 9 property of
his brother, ]on years before. '

Commodore rainard then selected some cost-
] trinket from the store before him, and the
chest was locked and turned over to the frigate’s
purser, the contents to be divided as prize-
money, u n arrival of the vessel in rt.

The ric boot in the schooner’s ho d was then
transferred to t e frigate, and carpenters were
set to work upon the buccaneer craft, and b
sunset jury-masts had been rig ed, sails bend:
and the little craft was mann with a crew
Captain Grenville himself taking command, and
keeping Merle on board with him.

S ortly after dark the frigate and her prize
set sail or Pensacola, to which port the former
vessel had been destined when led off her course
in ursuit of the buccaneer, who often before

clever] eluded his large and powerful foe.

That nig t in the schooner’s cabin, fitted us
for their accommodation, Arthur Grenville an
Merle sat together.

The former was looking over the rivate pa-
pers left b his dead brother: the after bad
gapened the 'ttle box and was examining its con-

nts

A few moments only had passed since Arthur
Grenville had ceased speaking; he had been tell-
ing the youth of the sad story of tmest, and
how Lance Grenville had been sin against,
when charged with his murder.

gith angry brow and ringing tone he had

an :

“M brother accused of taking in life!
Curse; upon those who thus aicmisedy him,
thou h I must confess that appearances were
fea ully against him.

“ But the very day that lance escaped from
the gallows, I arrived at home to confront his
accusers; I arrived to find tha in flying from
the ban 1:, he had shot d the very man
who h brotgsht the misery upon him, and who
had attemp to check his flight by seizing his
bridle-rein.

“It was a low villain—an old fisherman,
by the nameof Bea], whom, when more b0 8,

my brother and myself had ht sell
li uortoournegroemandhadeev y '
‘ He had then sworn to be reve u

11 us
and fear-fully he ke t his word, though e lost
his life by my brot ’s hand—a just retribu-

tion.

“ To to that wretch Iowe it, that I now mourn
my brother dead, and a buccaneer chief—the
noted Freelance; to that wretch I owe it, for
much misc he made me suffer, for it was his
hand that ruck me down upon the clifl that
fatal night; it was his hand that stripped me of
a part of my clothing and left it on the cliff,
while I was carried out to sea in his little boat
still unconscious by the blow upon my h
which he had dealt me, for when he approached
I dreaded no harm.

“ Yes, it was Bea], the fisherman, who hound
me hand and foot, and tied to my feet a heavy
anchor, and cast me into the sea.

“ But he had not counted upon two things; I
was not dead, as he believed and my feet and
hands, fortunately are remarkably small,” and
with a grim smile rthnr Grenville held up they)
members to view.

Then, after a moment’s silence, he continued:

“ I sunk down deep, very deep, when he threw
me into the sea; but the cold water revived me,
and after a hard struggle I slipped my hands
through the ropes that bound my wrists, freed
my feet, and rose to the surface, nearly dead
from exhaustion.

“Out on the moonlit waters, I saw my foe
rowing shoreward rapidly: but I dare not call
to him so I floated until I was fully rested; then
I struck out for the land.

“But the tide had been running out, and I
was miles away, and gave up all for lost; but I
struggled on for life, and soon a vessel ssed
near and the crew heard my bail, and was
taken on board, more dead than alive.

“It was da 8 before I was able to tell my
story, and I then found we were far north on
our way to Portland, Maine.

“At length the vessel reached port, and at
once I set out upon my return home, where I
arrived the day of my brother’s escape from
the gallows, and found my foe, Bea], the fisher-
man beyond my revenge.

“lBut, in young friend, there is one thing
that I coul never find out—one mystery I con]
never solve, and that is, who was the comrade

 

of Bea] in his act of villain against my brother
d myself, for that he a confederate I am
certain; the whole plot was too well arran
and carried out, to come from his thick brain.
One of these days I may know.”
“ And Captain Free— I mean your brother,

‘ never wrote home after his flight?” asked Merle.

“No, we never knew, for years, what had be-
come of him; the negro crew of the lugger had
run him over to the mouth of the Mimism pi river
and there he caught an outward-boun vessel,
and they returned home, brave fellows, only
when the heard of my arrival."

“Andt at was the last you ever heard of
him i” ‘

“No, I saw, when cruising in the Mediterra»
nean, that an English packet-shi had been
captured bv a Moorish corsair, an amon the
names of those slain, was that of Lance ren-
ville, hence I believed him dead, and thus
mourned for him.”

“ His was indeed a sad fate, and now that he

bered by me. ”.

“ You are a noble boy, and as you were the
protege of my brother, so shall you be of mine.

“I will 've :1) the sea now, and return to my
home on t e G , and you must go with me.
Don’t say me nay, for I am unmarried; she,
who was the innocent cause of the sorrows that
fell upon Lance and myself, is now the wife of
one of my boyhood friends—Rosa] Abercrom-
bie; she married him a year after the flight of
my brother, and I hope she is happy.

“ We will see her when we return home, for
my friendship with her father carries me often
to her home; but all the old love I felt for heris
utterly gone—utterly gone,” and Arthur Gren-
ville seemed musing With the past.

After a while he said, earnestly, as if awak—
ing from a painful dream:

‘ But you did not answer me; you Will go
with me to in home, and be as my own son?”

“ Yes, sir, or I have nowhere else in the wide
world to go—none to care for me,” and he woke
in a tone of deep sadnem, that touched his com-

panion greatly.

Then e turned and resumed his examination
of the little box, left him by Captain Freelance.

Suddenly he sprung to his feet, his face flush-
edz and in a trembling voice criedbzxcitedly:

‘ This will  much, sir,” t t you and I
should know. have here a written confedon
of the life of Launcelot Grenville: it incloses
this miniature—see!” and Merle held upasmall
miniature in a double frame of massive gold, the
rim set with diamonds.

It contained two likenesses, superbly executed
—one of a young man, the other of a maiden.
Upon the back of one was engraveu the name
of ‘ Ieuncelot,” upon the other the name of
“ Zulah.”

“ It is my brother’s likenem. taken many
years ag, and itis in theMoorish uniform; how

Then Arthur Grenville glanced at the other
likeness, and said, slowly:

“Itis a woman’s face and oh! how beauti-
full Who can she be!” _ _

“ Her costume is Persian, sir,” said Merle.

“ You are right; your letter may explain the
m stery—rea it!

e youth turned again to the box and took
therefrom the closely written letter, or confes-
>sion; beneath it, wra ped in soft silk. was a
large anchor of prince y rubies, set in gold, and
s nded to a necklace of immense diamonds,
eac one worth a small fortune—there were fif-
ty of these preCioiis, flawless stones, the same
11111111er as the rubies forming the blood-er an-
c or.

 

is dead, his virtues, not his sins, shall be remem~

 

-. '. -w  ..

~-. -A

ax...“—

....—_.

 

’“wic—‘m‘.

‘ --.____

 

Merle, The Mutineer.

 

 

Another neck-chain of massive gold, evident- i

ly belongingto the miniature, lay in the box,
and taking it up, Merle clasped upon it the dia-
mond and ruby-studded likenesses he yet held
in his hands, which had for him a fascination
far more powerful than the costly necklace and
anchor.

One other article the box contained—a long,
slender niard of surest steel, incased in a gem-
set scab dof gol : but the handle of the blade
was the most remarkable, as it was in the she
of an anchor, each side set with rubies; t e
flukes of the anchor served as the guard of the
knife, and the setting was massive and secure.

Like one in a dream Merle glanced at these
treasures, and then handed them to Arthur
Grenville.

“ This is all that the box contains, sir; now, I
will read aloud this communication, for you are
more deeply interested in it than am I.”

“I doubt it. By heaven! what a strange
thought I have; but quick! read what my
brother has written there ;” and Captain Gren-
ville threw himself back in an eas -chair, a
stran 9 expression upon his face, w ile Merle
unro ed the papers in his hand, and in a low,
but distinct voice began to read that which un-
folded to him a strange and thrilling story.

CHAPTER XII.
THE noccmaa’s CONFESSION.

WHY Lance Grenville should have left him
the possessor of such a valuable treasure, as
were the contents of the little box, and the con-
fession of his life Merle could not understand,
and he opened the document with tremblin

finIgers.
t was headed simply:
“ A CONFESSION.”

Then it was addressed to the youth, reading
as follows:
“ MERLE:

“ Six months ago, one placid moonlight night
I beheld a boat adrift upon the waters, an
ordered my helmsman to steer toward it; which
he did, and thus a strange destiny brought you

 

across my path once more after a separation of ,

lon years.

“ n that drifting boat I found five persons-—
four dead and one living,~ yet hovering on the
ver of death.

“ ose who were dead were common seamen,
men whose lives of hardship‘should have ke t
them alive far lon er than the delicate you h
who had survived 1: mm.

“The were thrown into the sea as food for
fishes; he youth I bore to my own cabin, and
are many da 8 he was convalescent, for I nursed
him devo 1 through the hours of delirium
that followed his rescue from the boat.

“I need not tell you, Merle, that on were
that {outh for well you know it; but will tell
you t at which you do not know, and that is
—your delirious ravings told me who and what
you were.
“ at I needed not your own words for this,
for already had I made a discovery. pon

our left side 'ust over your heart, I beheld,
atteoed in red ink, an anchor.

“That symbol told me who you were for I
had tattooed it there myself long years heforc.

“ Now that I have shown to you, Merle, that
you were known to me, I will make to you a
confession that is due you. Why it is due you,
these lines will in the end rove to on. I
will tell you of myself, of my ife, and w y it is
I am an outlaw, a buccaneer, with no home but
my ship, no nation, no people but those who fol-
low me across the trackless seas.

“I make this confession, writing it at night,
when you are aslee , or pacin the deck on your
watch, and. when am dea , it shall tell you
all, for my own lips have not the courage to tell

you.

“ I feel, Merle, that my life is ere long to end;
that my sun must go down in gloom and death
at last, though I have defied danger for years'
hence, while my hand is yet strong in healthI
:pen these lines to you.

“ You, and the world, know me only as ‘ Cap-
tnin Freelance,’ or ‘ Freelance the Buccaneer;’
but my true name is Launcelot Grenville.

“ I am a native of the United States, and I
was born upon the Gulf coast, where my ances-
tors have lived for a century.

“ Why Fate singled. me out to curse me, I
never knew: but, certain it is, that, ere I reach-
ed the years of manhood, sorrow fell heavily
upon me, and its sable Wings have ever fialpped
in mg heart since, bruising it with cruel b ows

“ at I will tell you all.” ‘

The confession then went on to tell of the early
life of the unfortunate man; his ha y home,
darkened only by the cruel Vendetta hat hover-
ed ovar it; his love for Lucille Darrlngton, the
falling of her father by his hand, her suicide,
and his wandering life and service in the young
Navy of Mexico.

Then followed his return home his love of
Helen Brainard, his parting with her. that his
brother might have no cloud upon his life in the
woman he loved, and then his arrest for the
I‘ under of that brother, his trial and sentence to
death banging, but his escape through the
love an courage of his faithful slaves.

 

“Had I been guilty, Merle; had I been the
‘ Cain a court of justice proved meto be, I should
I never have attempted to escape, but met my
; death as a just retribution.
! “ But I was innocent of an evil thought against
If my brother, and I fled that I might live to show
i that I had been falsely accused, for I did not be-
i lieve that Arthur was dead; I felt that he at
lived—in some mysterious manner spiri d
. awa yet not to his death.
3 “Miho had done him, and me, this wrong, I
‘ had no means of knowing; but, certain it is, I
, had some powerful enemy working against me
‘ and his every action masked; that foe I hoped
to have found out.

“As for Helen Brainard, for her testimony
against me, I forgive her, for, in her grief she
had accused me of murdering Arthur, whom
she loved with her whole heart, and the law
forced her to s ak; but I bless my brother for
not marrying Egr, when it was her fair lips that
pronounced my doom, as her statement weighed
most heavily against me.

“ There was another whom the law forced to
speak—Rosa] Abercrombie.

“ I believed him my friend; I have since
though: he might have been my enemy; still I
may wrong.

“ The jury who condemned me I shall never
for 've—they looked me straight in the face and
sai I was guilty and I have treasured them u
for revenge, should I live long enough to mete it
out.

“ Those of them whom death may have
matched from me I cannot reach; those of them

ho et live shall not escape.

“ ewho swore in life away I felt swore
falsel ; that man was al, the fisherman.

“ e has already felt the weight of my hand,
for 1 shot him through the heart as I fled from
the gallows; he attempted to seize my bridle-
rein and I killed him.

“ Now that I have told you of my enemies, I
will 3 k of my wanderings, and which re-
ven my returning home, when, gears a ter,
I learned that my brother was not sad but in
command of an American cruiser in Eastern
waters.

1‘ “When I boarded an outward-bound vessel
of! the Delta of the Mississippi, I found that it
was a. S niard, with sugars or Madrid.

“Ha ng with me the money I had the night
of my arrest, I paid my assage to Madrid, de-
termined to return to exico and again offer
my services, which I was confident would be ac—
cepted, after all that I had done for the infant
government.

.“But man’s intentions go often wron , and
so I found, for our vessel was captured by a
Moorish corsair, and those of us who were not
slain were sold as slaves to the Moors.

“ My fate led me a captive into the Moorish
ilgilsé where I became the slave of an Amazerg
c is .

“To him I soon made myself most useful, in
many ways, and are long he made me an officer
under him; but finding out, as soon as I had
learned to speak the lan well, that I was
a sailor, be fitted out a vesse armed and man-
ned it, and made me its secon in command, his
brother being captain.

“The Amazerg chief I had eatly liked; his
brother was a petty tyrant an a cruel monster,
and I hated him: but I was forced to serve un—
der him, for there were no means then of es-
cape, though I determined that I would do so
at the first opportunity, for the vessel, though
under the Moorish flag, was nothing but a cor-
sair.

“Several times, to my intense regret, we
went into action with American cruisers, and
this made me the foe of my own country,
though I could not do otherwise, and begged
m commander to allow me to remain in he
cahin during the combat, that I might not
strike against my own flag.

“ But my savage commander refused me the
privilege,land my sword was turned against my
own 6.

“ epday we overhauled a Persian vessel.
that had been blown by a storm far 0!! its
course, and we found it a treasure-ship, and
u n its rise, of far more value in in eyes
t all t 0 gold and precious stones it con
tained.

“ This prize was a maiden of seventeen—a
Princes of Persia, and exquisitely beautiful,
beyond all compare.

‘She was en route to Constantinople to be-
come the bride of Abdul Mezziz, the favorite
son of the Sultan, and with her was her whole
retinue of maidens and slaves, with the costly
presents for the bridegroom—presents the value
of which was beyond rice.

“The Persians foug t noblv and deg rater
to save their vessel: but Mezurah is the
Moorish captain, cammanded a crew that knew
not defeat; a monster himself, his men were
little less than devils incarnate, and the Per-
sians were captured. .

“ Med with fury at the losses he had sustained,
frenzied with joy at the treasures he had won,
and in rapture at the beauty of the princess,
whom he claimed for his rise, Mezurah R313
seized her in his bloodstuinc arms to 0311‘ Y be?
to his cabin.

 

 

“ The r irl gave one shriek of terror, and
stretch fort her hands to me, while her eyes
implored me to save her.

“ My determination was instantly made, and,
with my drawn scimitar, I confronted my chief
upon his own deck.

“ Like a very maniac he dropped his prize and
rushed upon me, his yataghan uplifted to cut
me down.

“He was a man as large as in self, a desper-
ate fighter, and most werful; ut I felt that
we were well matche , and I there determined
to kill him.

“ I will not tire you, Merle, with an account of
that disparate combat the worst of mv life; but
it end in the death of Mezurah Rais, and
yet that was not the end, for he had followers
who rushed to avenge him, and between those
who fought for him, and those who sided with
me, began another deadly conflict, that resulted
at last in victo for me.

“ Need I to on how thankful was the
maiden to me? o, I will go on to say that had
her vessel been in condition to proceed, I would
have released her then and there: but it was a
mere wreck, after our hot action with it, and
we were compelled to move the treasure and all
to our cruiser.

“Still I intended to restore the princess to
her friends, and set sail for that purpose, for I
was now the .Moorish Rais, but on the way I
learned to love 'the maiden more than my life,
and my love was returned, and Zulah, the Per-
sian Princess, became my wife.

“ Seeking a quiet port, I chartered two vessels;
one of these I devoted to the Persian crew, who
in it returned home, except a few faithful fol-
lowers who preferred to remain with their
mistress.

“The other vessel I took for myself, placed
on board all the treasure belonging to my wife,
and that which had been the property of
Mczurah Rais—Which was enormous—as well
as my own share, that was on board the cor-

sair.

“ The Moorish vessel I then turned over to the
crew, and what became of it I never knew;
but I set sail for Mexico after near] a year’s
cruise—for I visited many lands. arrived
within sight of the sunny shores, and a storm
wrehcked me upon an island in the dead of
ni t.

5 Had my men remained upon the vessel, as I

ordered, all would have saved their lives; but, ,'

believing‘ that the wreck was goin to pieces,'
they too to the boats, and when the morning
sun arose we saw their dead bodies strewing the
island coast, and out of all that had been with
me but four besides myself remained alive—my
beautiful bride, two servants that had followed
the fortunes of their mistress, and one who had
been a prisoner with me among the Amazergs,
and whom I had taken with me upon the cor-
sair craft.

“ But though the sun shone brightly the mom—
ing after the wreck, the seas ran high, and we
could not land; then, as night came on, another
hurricane swept the waters, and the vessel
rocked like a cradle, as it lay upon the reef, for-
tunately above the worst shocks of the waves.

“ On that fateful night, with the winds howl-
ing like mad wolves, the waves roaring like thun-
der, and the vessel swaying fearfully, Zulah, my
beautiful bride gave birth to a son—ay, gave
her life to a tiny boy, for she died are it was an
hour old. ‘

“ That little child, Merle, born in the tem-
pest, and upon a wreck, the child of Zulah the

ers1an, was yourself. ”

CHAPTER XIII.
ran nmnns mason

“ BY Heaven! I believed it so!”

It was the excited exclamation of Captain
Grenville, when Merle had read the words—
“ the child of Zulah the Persian was out-self.”

“He was then my father,” said erle, in a
voice hardly audible, and With the deepest fee].

in ,

g‘Yes, he was your father, boy; but read on,
for I would learn more of this strange story;
and, thank Heaven, if I mourn Launcelot dead,‘
I have his son to love,” and Arthur Grenville
laid his hand heavnly Upon the youth’s shoulder,
while he added: .

“ You are strangely like your father, Merle—
the same perfect features, dark wavmg hair,
and glorious, et somber eyes; but you are
anxious to reel on—I am listening."

In a vorce that_now trembled, in spite of the
011:?” to control it, the youth read on:

YaouMerltlal, you :13) m1} wilt; but do not
curse una aeroreavmg oua
stai «I name.  on, and then judgeyme in
your heart of hearts.

Upon that fateful ht of templest you first
finto the world, an your mot er gave you

e i e.

“Bitterly I mourned her dead; with Joy I
pressedyou living in my arms, for 1 ha not
0st all in her; you remained to me, and I was
determined that you should not die.

“ In the morning, leaving you in the care of
the Persian woman, who had followed vnnr
mother’s fortunes, I swam inshore, accompanied

.....-

L?

l\

l\

 wflwtfl,

3y abslave who had been the special guard of
111a .

“There we secured a boat, patched it up, and
returned to the wreck, brought your mother’s
body on shore and consigned it to the earth;
then we moved the treasures to the island, with
the vessel’s stores, and found a. safe retreat to
hide them in: but you needed care that could
not be obtained there in that desarted and wild
island, and I determined to go to the mainland.

“ Leaving the slave to guard my treasure,
and taking with me, in the boat, you, your Per-
sain nurse and the man whom I said before had
been my fellow-ca tive among the Moors, and
who was my fait ful friend, I sailed for the
mainland of Mexico, and in due time arrived at
Vera Cruz.

“Here I found the land shaken by a terrible
revolution, and making myself known I was at
once 'ven an im )ortant command as a leader,
Whic I accepto . for I desired to drown, by
stirring action, my deep sorrow at your moth-
er’s death.

“ I’lacing you in the care of an old Mexican
woman, and leaving with you your nurse, Al-
lene I sided with the Revolutionists.

" fore long I was transferred from a com—
mand on land to one on the sea, and given a
cruiser, a swiftrsailin , well- armed schooner;
but shortly after the volutionist party were
defeated on land, and the Government outlawed
me as a pirate.

“Thus was it I became a buccaneer, Merle,
and, from at first only cruising against my ene—
mies, when, having to protect myself, I struck
blows at the -vessels of other nations, I soon
drifted into illegal acts upon the high seas, that
set a price upon my head and made me at war
with the world, under the name of Freelance
the Buccaneer.

“ \Vhenever I could, I went in disguise to visit
you, and when on were two years old it was

hat I {be red anchor over your heart,
copying it from the ruby one I leave you in this

x and which, with the other things, was your
mother’s.

“It wasafreakof mine to tattoo u 11 your
white flesh the red anchor, the symbo of your
mother’s family; but it caused me to recognize
you, when I saw it, as you lay ill in my cabin,
and your words of delirium, callin , upon Allene,
your Persian nurse, and your to ling me your
name was Merle, aided in the recognition, for
your mother’s name was Zulah Merle, and I had
namod you after her.

“ hen you were five years old, dreading
treache toward you, after a letter from the
01d Mex can woman at whose house I had left

on, I sent my ever-faitth friend to bring you
_ me, for this man had followed my fortunes,
Since we had left the Moorish hills together.

“ From that day, when I landed him on the

exican coast near Tam ice, I have never seen
him since, and I fear tha he is dead, for never
could he be guil‘tiy of treachery toward me.

“When he fa ed tobe with you at the ren-
dezvous a inted, I went m self in dis ise to
Vera Cruz, and there the b ow that fel upon
me was almost greater than I could bear, for
you had been taken from the home at which I

841 left and the old Mexican woman, and
A119”. learned, were dead; they had been
glam by those who stole you from t eir protoc-

on.

“Of him.whom I had sent for you, I could
learn nothing, and to save my own life, for
Iwasrecogninsd, hadtoflyagaintomy
schooner.

.‘fSince that time I have often, in disguise,
Visited Mexico: but never could I learn ought of
you or my faithful friend, and I came to the
conclusiorzlfie‘lost, that you had both been slain
by‘riry on th joy

maxim en, Merle m when
more than ten mu attér, p cked yoii up at
seamen open nmdleamedtln ouhad
been, since you could remember, a or-boy,
drifting from vowel to vessel, until at lost your
ship went down in a storm, and you, and those
:qund dead by your side, were the only sur-

vors. .

“You are reserved. Merle, for some great
end, and I rejoice that I have it in my power to
make you a prince among men, for, still, so-
creted in that wild island the treasure I
placed there and to which each year 1 have an.
ded largely from the riohly-fmighted ships that
sail the seas.

“ But one other besides myself knows of that
hidden treasure and he is thetaithful guardian
of the isle, for fbellevs my friend is dead, as I
told on; he also knew.

“170 u, Merle, my son,dI leavohit‘hl‘l afraid
with too] that on can 0  8001i.

it y sue rlohcuu

womman eoerposscsaed you
will nd there.
“ ow, to Von I give the locali of the

island, and tell you haw to find him w o guards
the treasure, and who will guide you to it; so,
mark well the mute and the instructions I give

on:
3 “Soil from Vera Cruz due east ten leagues;

then sailflflee‘n leagues duc—J’ .
But here the confession ended; somethin had
caused Lance Grenville toleave off abrupt y his

writing.

 

"Merle, TheMut' e. r.

 

 

11

 

 

Perhaps it was a call on deck, to note some
strange sail; perhaps the coming into the cabin
of him to whom it was addressed; but, what-
ever the cause, the confession was never con-
tinued, and the locality of the treasure isle was
not made known.

For some minutes the two sat in silence in the
cabin of the schooner, neither seeming to care
to speak. after what had been read by the
youth, of his father's career.

At length Merle spoke, and in a tone of deep
feeling:

“The lost treasure I care little for, Captain
Grenville, for, in them likenesses of my father
and mother, I have that which all the riches on
the island would not buy,” and he gazed fondly
upon the beautiful face of his mother and the
handsome, somber face of his unfortunate fa-
ther.

“You belong to me now, Merle, and you
must return home with me, for I will hear no
refusal.”

“I will go with you sir, and I will remain
until I am older; then must enter upon some
useful career in life, for I feel that I have been
spared death for some mysterious end; what it
will be who can tell?”

“ You are brave to a fault, and you are am-
bitious, and I predict for you a brilliant fu-
ture.”

 

CHAPI‘ER XIV.
AN UNHEEDED WARNING.

ONE afternoon two years after the comin of
Merle to live at Grenville Grange, as the p n-
tation home was called, the outh was return—
ing from a fishing cruise own the coast, ac-
companied by two negro slaves as a boat’s
crew.

He was running swiftly along before a strong
breeze, when lookin astern Merle observed that
a! severe squall was wing, and knowing the
impossibility of reaching the shelter of the little
cove in front of the mansion, two leagues dis-
tant, be lowered away his sails, shipped his
masts and cast anchor, to await the blowm g over
of the gala.

His craft was of the whale-boat model, but
much larger and broader in the beam, and was
provided with along scope of rope and a large
garapnel, which served them as an anchor when

hing in deep water.

Shortly after he had taken in his sails, a man-
of-war’s barge, carrying two 1 sails, came
rushing along before t e breeze an threatening
to run under if the squall struck it.

At the tiller sat an officer whom, at a glance,
Merle recognized: it was Wilber Se ' , who
had been a lieutenant on the frigate at the time
of the capture of the buccaneor schooner.

In the stern sheets sat two maidens, whom
Merle did not remember to have ever seen be«
fore, and it was evident at a glance that they
did not realize their danger.

The coxswain sat ,on the after thwart, the
main sheet in his hand, and ready to ease of! at
a word from the officer while the halliards and
fore-sheet were tended h two seamen.

These six were all in t e boat and everything
appeared in order to take in  with the great-
est dispatch.

At a glance, as the barge drove on, Merle saw
all this, but his experienced sailor’s e e told
him that the first put! of the lmig t cap
size the boat, and, in that latitu a, he knew how
suddenly the winds swe down u n the waters,
one could scarcely to from w ere; hence he
determined, though it seemed meddlesome upon
his part, to hail the boat as it passed, and put
Lieutenant Sebastian u n his guard.

As the barge came a roast of his own boat,
quietly ridin at anchor, and was driving
swiftly by, erle hailed, In his clear, ringing
tones:

“Ho, the barge!”

l‘I‘aAy, ay ” answered Wilber Sebastian, some-
w t y.

“ Pardon me, sir but you had better take in
call,” and Merle pointed to the squall astorn.

“ to yourself, sir" I sail this boat,”an-
grill] replied the young cheer.

erles face flushed, and from his lips broke
the ck retort:

“ true seamen, sir, will always take warn-

in .”

% sneezing lau was the answer from Wilber
Sebastian, and t charge swept on; but Merle
saw that all in it glanced «can, not ex-
copting the trough officer in cargo.

» ‘Davo, 'womu pros‘am to anchor by the
Mandala Inthow oofthatidiot, forhis
bootwlllsurel becapsisodwhon that black
“if‘m'um’h m

‘ . 1y. erle as on. sir,
m’l myouisrbht,“ inhed old ,
whowasnone other-than eousthst so
bravely aided Lance Grenville in Iii-flight near-
ly twenty years betors. '

“ If we are driven past the . we cannot
mill to windward, if needed, an if we anchor

the bow, 1n swinging round we may go
om 1,1,0 we’ll anchor by the stern and to wind—
w .

A moment more and the necessary prepara-
tions were made; and not an instant too soon,

 

everything was let fly, the barge went over, and
all on board were thrown into the water, where
they clung for their lives to whatever would
support them.

A moment more and Merle was at hand to
rescue them, and while Dave and his com n—
ion anchored the boat and attended to the ine,
the youth divested himself of his coat and boots
and sprung into the sea.

A bold stroke brought him to one of the maid-i

ens, and with a word of encoura ement he
seized her in his arms, and the next instant she
had been drawn on board his own craft.

Seeing that Wilber Sebastian was swimming
toward the boat, with the other maiden, Merle
aided one of the seamen who could not swim,
and calling to the others to follow, the whole
party were soon rescued from their most peril-
ous situation, b one whose ' had been
unheeded, and at for whom all would have
been drowned.

A short and severe blow, and the squall assed
away as suddenly as it had come, and ilber
Sebastian said in no pleasant tone, for he felt
angry and humiliated at what had occurred:

‘ ow, sir, I will right my barge and relieve
you of our com .’

“ You had better‘ let your barge drift in. sir,
whiltel you all return with me, ’ said Merle,
qure y.

“I wish no advice, sir; if I should ask it, it
will not be from a boy.”

“ Wilber Sebastian, how dare you speak thus
to one who has just saved our lives? For shame,
air!

It was the maiden whom Merle had rescued
that spoke, and her eyes flashed with anger.

She was scarce] y more than sixteen, as grace-
ful as a. sylph, and as beautiful as a fairy—a
child-woman, as it were, whom to look upon
was to love.

The other maiden was her senior dig two
years, and also beautiful, but of a ' erent
style, and the resemblance to Wilber Sebastian
proved that she was his sister.

“ 0h, Mildred! don’t speak so, for my brother
should certainly know what to do, better than
this floung man,” said the sister, coldly.

“ c has not proven it, certainl , Estelle.”

“Miss Montoith is inclined to
most sneered Wilber an.

“I am sorry you think so, Wilber; but life is
too precious a gift to play with, and the result
having proveu as this young gentleman predict—
ed, I could not but give him credit for knowing
what he was about. ’

“ If Lieutenant Sebastian desires to continue
on in his own barge, I have nothing to say
Egainst it; but,” with a glance around at the

ends, “ the blow does not seem yet over, and
those who will ranain in my boat are certainly
welcome to do so.”

“ If you do notforbfd, I will right my boat,
sir,” sneezed Wilber Sebastian.

“ 0n the contrary, sir, I will aid you,” and
Merle s rung into the sea, and, followed b the
00sz n and two seamen, soon had the
on a level keel a 'n, the yormg officer looking
(1): the whilewi the most insulting flowcha-

nee.

A few moments more passed, and the barge
was bailed out, and all in readiness once more.

“ Haul alongside, coxswainl” ordered the
lieérltenant, and the two boats lay broadside to—
gc or.
“ ow, ladies, I will aid {Icon into the barge
andwewillnolongertron this ',
yo sailor,” and Sebastian held out his hand
to dred Monteith.

“ k you, Wilber, but I will accept the
kind offer of this tleman, and remain where
I am ” was the quiet reply.

“ by, you certainly do not mean it?” aid
the officer

2‘ $12M!” (logo (1 protoc

‘ y, may , c you desert m —
non for that of another?” and it wasy evident
that Wilber Sebastian was getting v 

“ Uponthe principle that a burnt ch' d
the fine,” was the calm rejoinder.

The face of the lieutenant grew black; bathe
ground back in bi teeth someangry words, and
said, hoarsoly, turnin to his sister:

" E’btolle, set Mia outsith a lemon in obdi-
ones. ’

Mic Sebastian glanced around at the low-
ering clouds, and then at the bud. nearly two

distant; she loved her brothcr devoted-
ly: t_ she loved horlifo more, and felt safer
where she then was. i -

severe,” al-

“ Brother, why not lot- rsmain here? Your‘

boatisallwet. '

It did not strike the maiden that she had been
overboard, and wosas wet as thoboat; but any
excuseisbetter than none.

7 .“As ougirlswill insist ntrusting our-
"sdvutoya marshmallow y

rm coming on, I
feel it my do ri'gdpr-uvontyou,” and so sayin
h. grasped 'd Monterth, who was use

to him, around her waist to place her in the

e.
ha‘l‘filold, sirl Mia Monteith, is it your wish to

' remain under my protection?

There was a certain ring in the voice of
Merle, calm as he spake, that caused Wilber So-

for the squall broke on the sea, and, though ' bastian to hesitate.

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f" mumflm-+wsu.-- -4_-.. ._.

 

l‘rmv-m :‘- M -

12

- . .. , , \

“ It is, sir: if I go with Lieutenant Sebastian
it will be by force,” re lied the maiden.

“ And you, Miss bastian, what is your
choice?” and Merle turned to Estelle.

“ I will remain here,” and the maiden cast an-
other lance Skyward.

Mer 0 turned smilineg to the discomflted of-
floor.

“You hear, sir: you will have to leave the
ladies under my protection.”

“ Never, bog:

Again did bastian throw his arm around
the waist of Mildred Monteith, as though to
drag her into the barge.

Without a word Merle disengaged his grasp,
seized him in his powerful arms, and, to the
surprise of all, not exce tin the furious other,
who saw this wonderf ex ihition of stren h,
tossed him bodily into the barge, while, wit a
stern order to Dave and the coxswain to let her
go, for they were holding the two boats togeth-
er, he shoved the two apart with one stroke of
his foot.

“ Now Dave, up with that anchor, and we’ll
run for t e shore,” said Merle, quietly, unmind-
ful of the fierce oath that arose to the lips of
lVilber Sebastian.

Like the very wind the swift boat flew land-
ward, and just at dark landed at the Grenville
pier, where they were met by Captain Gren-
ville, who had seen their approach from the
piazza of the mansion.

“My poor, foolhardy brother! I fear harm
will befall him, sir,” and Estelle pointed to the
comin storm.

Mer e’s answer was a shrug of the shoulders;
not a very polite response but a. very suggestive
one.

“See, sir, the storm is sweeping down upon
him; will you, who are so brave and skillful,
not go to his aid?”

It was Mildred Monteith that spoke, and she
laid her tiny hand upon his arm, as she turned
her beautiful eyes upon him.

“ The bar 0 does seem in danger. Come,
Dave, we w1 see if we can save them,” said
Merle, quietly, and springing into his boat again
he continued:

“ The captain will see you to the mansion,
ladies.”

Casting off from the pier, be hauled dead upon
the wind, and stood out into the darkness and
storm, watched by the grou upon the land until
the gloom hid his little cra t from View.

CHAPTER XV.
m SKELETON BURIED.

IT was with a little fear and trembling that
Estelle Sebastian crossed the threshold of the
elegant home of Grenville Grange, as between
her blood and the Grenvilles there had been
only enmity, for the maiden’s mother had been
a Darrington, a. sister of Colonel Ferd Darring-
tofi, who had fallen by the hand of Lance Gren-
vz e.

Truei on shipboard, her brother and Arthur

 

Grenvi le had ever been on intimate terms, if
not friends, and all had he that the vendetta
between the two names ha hurled in the

grave with Ferdinand Darrington, and that the
grinning skeleton of the past would never be
exhumed again.

Still she could not refrain from aslight shiver,
as she stepped into the hallway.

“Welcome to Grenville Grange, young 19.-
dies,” said Captain Grenville, goutely, as he
ushered the two maidens into e broad hall-

'wa .
‘7Be seated, please, and I will order on a
lass of wine to warm you up, and wil then
rive SEgon home in my carriage, for I believe,
1l'iifiss bastianinthat you are now living at Dar-
n

‘ es, sir' mv brother and myself inherited
it from unc e Ferd, but we only lately decided
to make it our home; it is a d old place. ”

“ It is, indeed, and I am g to see you havo
added a number of i rovements; the place has
too long been desertes. Permit me?” and Ar.
thur Grenville filled several glasses of wine and
offered them to his fair guests.

“ 'Nie carriage is at the door, nah,” and the old
negro butler appeared with a stately bow.

‘ With your permiuion, Captain Grenville,
we will remain until the boats return, and I
know that m brother is safe,” said Estelle Se-

anxiousl .

bastian,

redly, LE- Sebastian' I only ordered
the carriage, thinking you in ht catch cold, if
you did not drive home and c “£30m- cloth-
‘mf for, bet bachelors, neither rle or my-
se f have any adies’ wardrobe to place at your

disposal.”

‘ Thank you, sir; but we will risk the cold—
Oh, hark! how aavagel the wind blows! It
must be fearful upon 9 water,” and Mildred
Monteith walked to the window and leaned her
beautiful but now pale face against the pane.

“ If you will allow me to offer a su tion,
young ladies, I will say that I can send 0 car-
riage over  Darrington Lodge after your maid,
Mile Sebastian, Wit orders to return at once
with all necessary clothing on may desire, and
you can remain my guests or the night, as the
storm seems likely to continue for some time.”

The offer of Captain Grenville was at once

A, “Merle, _T_hew1\7/Iutineer. fl

acted upon, and the carriage rolled awa upon
its errand, while the maidens and their host
gathered in front of the windows that looked
seaward, and tried to pierce the darkness and
the storm, all of them far more uneasy than they
would admit.

“Captain Grenville, who is the gentleman
who saved our lives this afternoon?”

It was Mildred Monteith that asked the ques—
tion; Mildred Monteith, the heiress to vast
wealth, the belle and the beauty, and the most
intimate friend of Estelle Sebastian, whom she
had accompanied to Darrington Lodge for a
visit of several months.

“That young gentleman, Miss Monteith, is
Merle Grenville, my protege, and adopted son.
He is as true as steel, utterly fearless, a perfect
seamen, and all else that is noble ” said Arthur
Grenville, with considerable enthusiasm in his
tone and manner.

“Was he not picked up at sea some time ago,
sir?” asked Estelle Sebastian.

“ He was picked up at sea by Captain Free-
lance, and— ’

“ Freelance the Buccaneer, that terrible ocean
scouragef"

“Yes, Miss Sebastian; he was found adrift in
a boat, b Freelance the Buccaneer, and, al-
most dea with exposure and starvation he was
nursed back to life, and made by the chief one
of his officers.”

“ A pirate ofiicerf” and Estelle’s brows arched
prettily.

"Yes, Miss Sebastian, per force of circum-
stances, a pirate officer; but one who saved my
life, and nearly lost his own for the act; ay,
and one who, alone, captured the crew of the
bucc’aneer schooner and surrendered them to
me.

“ Did he surrender the man who had nursed
him back to life?”

It was Mildred who made the inquiry, and
she seemed interested in the answer.

“No, he would be incapable of such an act'
for his protection of me, the crew turned
against him, and would have hung him, but for
the interference of Ca tain Freelance who lost
his life in defending his protege, and Merle was
seized and hung tothe yard-arm; but a stroke
of lightning miraculously saved him from
death, and the horrified buccaneers rushed in
terror into the cabin and thus fell a prey to the
presence of mind an prompt action of the be
they would have murdered; since then Mere
has lived here with me, and here I hope he will
ever make his home.”

“ Was nothing known of his antecedents, be-
fore being picked u at sea?”

“ He was stolen rom his home in early life,
and has been a sailor almost since his infancy;
he comes of a good family, but his (parents be-
ing dead, he prefers me to other kin red he has
livin .”

“ bank you, Captain Grenville; what a life
of thrilling romance your adopted son has had,”
said Mildred, and as she spoke heavy steps were
heard upon the gravel approach to the house.

The maidens turned deadly lo, and sunk
down into convenient chairs—w t news would
the hair’l pal b t f t1 a] C

arce as e. uperecycm,ap-
tain Gren’xrrille went to the door and met there
several forms.

“ Miss Sebastian, your brother is safe 1” called
out theca tain.

“And r. Grenville?”

The question came from the lips of both
maidens.

“ Also safe "and Captain Grenville entered
gl‘ie room, followed by Wilber Sebastian and

erle.

“ hank God!” and Estelle threw herself into
her brother’s arms.

It was a joyous meeting, for all had dreaded
the worst, and then Merle was warmly_greeted
by both maidens, and thanked most sincerely
for their lives.

“ Twice I owe him my life, and here, before
all, I wish to humbly ask him to for ve.and
forget my conduct this afternoon,” an Wilber
Sebastian held forth his glad, which Merle
warml raspedflflm,q 9,3",

“ It iys orgiven anyd orgotten Lieutenant Se-
bastian; I am only sorry I did not arrive in
time to save all. ” '

“ All!” and a cloud swefipver their joy.

“ Yes. I went over one . Grenville reached
mo,thebgrgo isascranky as a canoe,andthe
coxswain and one of the seamen were washed
away and drowned,” mid Wilber Sebastian, in
rather an indiflerent tone, when his own fool-
hardiness had been the cause of the 10a of two
fellow-beings. .

“I cruised about for them, sir for half an
hour, but could find nothing of them, and the
sea gettin too rough for my boat I put in,” ex-
plained erle.

“ It is too had indeed; r fellows, they
have but met a sailor’s fate; t here comes the
carriage, and you can now have dry clothing,
while can supply Lieutenant Sebastian from
my wardrobe. As soon as you have made your
to lets, come down and we will have a hot sup-
per for you, for remember, you are my guest,
as long as you Will honor me with your. com-
PGDY-

 

 

 

From that night, the grass no longer grew
upon the path between Grenville Grange and
Darrington Lodge; it had been better for all had
those, in whose veins flowed the Grenville and
Darrington blood, never joined hand in friend-
ship, across the graves of their kindred—better
if the grim skeleton of the past had remained in
the closet of each mansion, and not been dragged
away to a temporary burial.

CHAPTER XVI.
FOR THE LOVE or HATE.

THE relation that Mildred Monteith held to
Estelle Sebastian was that of friend. They had
been schoolmates at a fashionable boarding-
school for five ears, and, as school-girls often
will, Estelle ha made up her mind that Mildred
and her brother Wilber should marry.

At heart Estelle had good traits. yet she was
somewhat haughty in manner, and certainly a
little selfish, and could see no fault in the hand—
some Wilber.

The two were orphans, and her brother had
been her dian. since the death of their fath-
er when ilber was eighteen.

It was sup osed that the two were left rich
by their fat er; but there had been lavish ex-
travagance somewhere and when the debts were
paid, a house in New Orleans, and a few thou-
sand dollars in bank, were the sum total of their
inheritance, excepting the plantation home of
Darrington Lodge, left them by their uncle.

The Darrington slaves had one to pay the
debts of the dead colonel, am? the Lodge had
gradually gone to ruin, until Wilber pro
that their town-house should be sold, an the
plantation fitted up for their home, and Estelle
gladly consented, and with their furniture and
effects, and the dozen slaves they owned, the
llidpther and sister removed to the Darrington

ge.

Accompanying them was Mildred Monteith,
the little beauty and heiress, who had been left
an orphan when a mere child and turned over
to the guardianship of an old friend of her fath-
cr, who allowed her to do pretty much as she

leased, for he was a bachelor and cared little
or the society of the fair sex.

Hence, when he attended punctiliousl tosend-
ing her the monthly income allowed er, and
looking after her very large estate, he consider-
ed that he did his duty toward his ward and
readily gave his consent for her to go wit Es-
telle for a few months.

“The country is a good place for girls. All

' is should live in the country; ’twould keep
em out of mischief; towns were made for
men,” he said. and so he believed.

Now, though Estelle reall loved Mildred
greatly, there was a little p 0t in her heart
against her and this was to throw her into the
society of ilber, whom, except on several oc-
casions before, the maiden had never met.

It would be such a nice thing if Estelle could
make a match between them.

Mildred would, 1: such a handsome, splendid
husband, and Wil r would get such a lovely
wife and—large fortune.

Blind to the plot, Mildred went to Darrington
Lod , and all seemed in a fair way to turn out
as telle had planned, for Wilber. aiding and
abetting his sister in her plans, had not given
vent to his violent temper the week that they
had been in the country, or shown the heiress
one of his weak points.

But the afternoon of the storm Wilber had
forgotten himself : he was impatient of restraint,
detested adVice, and mud 0 his sea knowledgf,
he cared not to be to dwhat to do, and hence e
broke forth in angry reply to Merle when hail-
ed by him.

Merle he had not liked when he had met him
two years before, on the to. Win he did
not know yet certain it was dislikediim.

After the scene on the has and the return of
Merle to his aid, although 0 know that the
youth had a second time mved his life, he was
not thankful to him, but on the con hated
him, for the obligation he placed him an ; but
he felt that it was his duty to make amends for
his past conduct, and had frankly acknowledged
bias error in public, and begged pardon for the
o ense.

This act laced him once more in the good
graces of ildred Monteith, who really very
much liked the handsome young seamen.

After the night spent at Grenville Grange a
friendly intimacy sprung up between the in-

mates of the two plantations, and many Were
the drives and sails that the youn le en-
joyed together until rumor said t there

would be a double wedding at Darrington Led e;
113:3! thfn Ifiadlame Ruiiior was not altogetlgfir

or erewns no, aswas supposed”; 8
devdied admirer of Estelle Sebastian, but of
Mildred Monteith. _

True, Mlle greatly admued the handsome
wait, and had he not seemed to care for Mil-
dred We loved him; but, as matters
stood, it god her’plobfor her friend was
destined as her rothers bride, and such she
should be: u n this t"WC persons were deter-
mined, and 080 “"0 “ere the brother and

sister. . . .
At len h the Visit of Mildred Monteith drew
to an en , and she carried home with her the

Merle, The Mutineer.

 

13

 

heart of Merle; but it was a fair exchange, for
she left hers with him, and both were happy.

If lVilber Sebastian felt grieved at this turn
of the tide, that had first set in his favor, ho
had the good sense not to show it, and Estelle's
kiss of congratulation was as warm as though
Mildred had been engaged to her brother, instead
of to Merle.

A month after the departure of Mildred, VVil-
ber Sebastian was ordered away; but a few
days following Estelle wrote a note to Merle,
beggin his attendance at the Lodge, for with
an old ady, a distant relative of some kind, she
still made the place her home.

Merle obeyed at once the call, and soon dis-
mounted at the door of Darrington Lodge.

“ Mr. Grenville, a messengfr came to-day
bringing me letters from my rother, and they
may be of interest to you,” said Estelle, after
greeting her visitor kindly.

“An thing that concerns yourself and Lieu-
tenant bastian, Miss Estelle, interests me,” po-
litely returned the outh.

“Well, my brot er says,” and she began to
read from an open letter she held in her hand:

“ ‘I have often heard Merle Grenville speak
of the humdrum life he leads at the Grange,
and wish that he had gone into the navy, as 's
ambition first prompted, and I now have an o
gortunity of givingr him a chance, to taket e

rst step up the ladder of fame.

“ ‘Through Commodore Brainard, and our.

uncle, Senator Sebastian, I have been ordered
to a large and swift-sailing schooner, lying in
Pensacola harbor, and which I am to arm, fit
out and man with a good crew for secret and
dangerous service—so read my orders.

“ ‘ Otis Alden, formerly on the Constitution,
has re rted to me as my First Luff, and I have
made r. Lucien Bethune, your old admirer,
Estelle, my sur eon, and have the privilege of
appointing my ‘ nd Luff, upon condition that
I select a man who is a thorough seaman.

“ ‘ Now I know of no one who is better suited
for the position than is Merle Grenville, or any
one to whom I would rather give it, and hence,
through you, I make him the offer.

“ ‘ have already seen Mildred and talked with
her upon the sub ect, and she says it will be a
good thing for ‘m to accept my offer—you
know she is ambitious that her future husband
shall be other than a planter.

“ ' Now if Grenville accepts, ask him to write
me at once, and I will semi him orders when

and where to report for duty, and we will have 1

a jolly cruise of it.

" ‘ am not certain, but I have an idea, that
'we are destined for southern waters—say the
Caribbean Sea, after pirates; but this idea is of
course eutre nous.’ ”

Having finished her letter, Estelle looked up
With {smile '

“ It is certainly very kind of Lieutenant Se—
bastian to remember me, and I appreciate his
offer so much that I will take him at his word—
that is if Captain Grenville does not object, for
you know I am not nineteen yet, Mia Estelle,
and consequently under age.”

“ 80 young! I really would have thought
you twent -two."

“And feel older than even that age; has
your messenger returned at?”

“ No; he oes back to-night.”

“Then I s all have in letter read for him
and let me thank you or your kin has,” and
Merle mounted his horse and rode away.

Two hours and he was at the
Lodge, his letter of acceptance in h a hand, for
Captain Grenville had consented, when he saw
how Merle’s heart was set on it.

“A cruise of two years will do you g00d,
Merle, I expect; then, if there is no war, resign
your commission, in Mildred, and come and
settle down here, as I on’t think I have a very
long lease on life, and Grenville Grange must
not be without a master—you know my will
leaves you all my property '1” Captain Gren-
ville liad said.

“Why will you talk that way, fatherl you
are yet a young man, a fraction over fort , and
there is along ife before you, and I wis you
would marry—I think you would be happier.”

“Ma. ! I marry f’

“ Yes, other; why not?”

“Whom should I marry, Merle i”

“Estelle Sebastian.”

“ Ha! ha! Merle, you are mad; I am double
her age,” said Captain Grenvillle, in mock
levitv.

“You do not look it, sir; she is young, beau-
tiful and certainly admires you greatly.

“ She admires me, Merle?

“ She does indeed, sir,” and Merle m' ht have
added, but he did not: “ You admire r.”

11; was true; Captain Grenvrllehad been very
much drawn toward the brilliant, beautiful
girl; but he doubtless never would have thought
of such a thing as marrying her, had not Merle
put the idea into his head. .

Now, as Merle rode away, to deliver his letter
of acceptance of the offer made him by Wilber
Sebastian, Arthur Grenville muttered:

“ Marry Estelle Sebastian—why not, if she
will accept me!

“ The old love for Helen has utterly gone. and
there is a germ of aflection in my heart for this

 

beautiful 'girl, though in her veins flows Dar-
rington blood.

“I will think of it; nay, I will marry her, if
I can, for already I am half in love with her.

“Poor Helen, I fear she is not happy in her
married life; once I thought so, she seemed so

y; but, now, when she laughs, there seems a
gallowness in it to me, and there is a sadness
’way down in the eyes that smiles will not hide.

“ How different all might have been—how
true. how true:

“ ‘ Of all the sad words of tongue and pen,
The saddest are these—It might have been.’

“ Had it been poor Lance would not now be
at the bottom of the sea, the brand of buccaneer
upon his brow, and 1—1 would have been her
husband—the father of her child.

“Poor Helen, I fear that wild, reckless son of
hers will yet cause her trouble; she should have
sent him to sea where he would have had whole-
some training; now he rules the household, even
to the old commodore, who was always so stern
upon his ship’s deck; then be ruled all under
him; now he is little better than a childish old
man, governed by a rattled-brained boy of
seventeen.

“ f Helen and I—bahi what a fool I am to be
dreaming of that olden time—I will let the dead
ast bury its dead, and across the graves of her
'ndred and mine stretch forth my hand to Es-
telle Sebastian.”

In the meantime, while Ca tain Grenville was
pacing the piazza musing, erle had reached
the Lodge and iven hin' letter to Estelle.

“And what id your father say?”

“Oh, he was willing when he saw I had set
my heart upon it; but I dislike toleave him—he
Will be so lonely.”

“ We will have him come over here often, to
drive and take tea with us.”

“ it will be so good of you, and father is very

fond of ou, Mim Estelle.”
“Fon of me?” and the maiden’s face crim-
soned.

But it was with a. sudden thought that flashed
into her busy brain.

“ Fond of me, is he?” she thought to herself:
“Imust seeto this, for heisnot aman to be
cast aside; he is des rately handsome, as sty-
lish as man can we be and there is a certain
fascination about him I have always felt in his
presence.

“He has won a good name, comes of good
stock, none better, and is certainly not old-he
hardly looks thirt v-five notwithstanding the ail-

: ver threads on eit er temple.

“ But the graves between us? Nonsense! who
cares for dead bones? certainly not I.

We’ll drop our tears together, equally over
the dead Grenvilles and Darringtons, an if the
specters don’t like it why let them come to the
weddi , for, from the skeleton fingers of the
Grenv' as I will get my wedding dresses.

“Hal ha! every closet in the mansion can
contain a. grinning specimen of anatomy, if
their mold docs not rub oil on the silk dresses,
or tarnish the gold with which I will keep them
hidden.

“Yes, Arthur Grenville is avery rich man,
and his son and mine would keep the inherit—
ance from falling upon the shoulders of Merle,
the waif. ”

Such were the thou hts that passed through
the brain of Estelle bastion; but the sweet
fine on her face never changed, and she laugh-

out:

“ Why, I never thought the captain hardly
remlznibered my existence, when I was out of his
sig .

“ Indeed he does; he often speaks of you, and
I do hope you will be kind to him,” and Merle
rode home thinkin he had sown seed that would
bring forth good ruit—and he had, for he had
set two people to thinking of each other, and
that is dangerous employment, where a man and
wgi‘li‘loan “him: Guided-1 began his reparation

m t t a or e s
for his sea cruLe, and two months after re-
feived orders to report for duty at New 0r-
eans.

In obedience he set sail for the city, by way
of Lake Bho‘igue, in the little yacht Captain
Grenville given him, and he carried as pas-
sen ers tho ca ' himself, Estelle Sebastian
an her ancien relative.

0n arriving at the hotel where Captain Wil-
ber Sebastian was stopfping in New Orleans, Ar-
thur Grennlle for the rst time in his life, wrote
his name with an addition; he wrote:

“ Arthur Grenville and wife.”

The marriage had been a quiet one, the core-
mony beingtfierformed at Darrington Lodge the
mornin 0 air departure from home; the red
feud be ween the two names had ended at last.

The found the schooner read to sail,
and, a congratulations to is sister
and her husbon , Captain Sebastian invited all
to a breakfast on board his beautiful vessel.

It was a happy dejeuaer in the little cabin,
and toasts for iness and success in the fu-
ture, were drank 1 round; then farewells were
said and Arthur Grenville and his wife, accom-
panied by their ancient relative were rowed
ashore, while the schooner spread her white
wings and flew down the river like an eagle af-
ter its prey.

 

“How sorry 1 am that Mildred was out of
town; it was such a disa intment to Merle
not to see her, and she wi be really distressed
to know that she missed him,” said Mrs. Gren—
ville, as the party stood on the pier watching
the rapidly-receding ,vessel.

“ Yes, but the schooner sailed a week sooner
than was anticipated, Estelle, and Mildred’s last
letter to Merle told him that she was compelled
to go to Mobile with her guardian, in regard to
some legal matters about her pro rty, but that
she would return today; we wil drive by and
see if she has (gotten home at.”

As Arthur renville spo e a stylish carriage,
with servants in livery, dashed rapidly down to
the river-side.

From the windows peered the beautiful face
of Mildred Monteith—pale and anxious.

Her eyes falling upon the distant schooner,
she fell back upon t e soft cushions covering
her face with her hands, and from er white
lips broke the words, as though coming from
her heart:

“Too late! oh, toolate! he has gone to his
ruin! for Wilber Sebastian has taken him with
him onlny the love of hate.”

CHAPTER XVII.
THE PURSUIT.

“ MILnann, dear Mildred, what a disappoint—
ment.”

The maiden started, as the voice met herears,
and her face flushed angrily, and hot words
sprung to her lips, as she beheld the lovely face
of Estelle peering into the carriage window-

But, with a mighty effort, she checked her'
anger, and another thought flashed through her
brain, and, with a forced smile through her
tears, she said:

“ He is gone, then, and I did not see him?”

“ Yes; brother did not expect to go sosoon, and
we were riscd, upon our arrival last n ht,
to have him tell us he must sail this morning;
we hoped you would arrive 11 to the last mo»
ment and Merle left you this letter,” and he
telle handed a sealed missive tothe maiden, who
took it and said earnestly:

“ I am glad I was not forgotten; but I see
Captain Grenville and Mrs. Dabney there.”

" Yes, and ab! Mildred. u ould you believe it?
I am Mrs. Arthur Grenville.”

“ You!” and the eyes were wide open now
with wonder, and the face very white.

“ Yes; Arthur and myself were married the
morning we sailed from home; is it not all
strange ’

“ It is all strange.”

“You do not con tulate me, Mildred—are
you dazed with grie at Merle’s de rturei”

“Yes, I do congratulate you, ‘ telle. and I
am half dazed with grief that Merle should have

e.
“do: manner was strange, and yet Estelle did
not notice the emphasis upon the pronoun you.

“ Here comes lily husband,” and Captain
Grenville and Mrs. abney approached the car-

ria .

ffter a hasty greeting, Mildred said in earnest
tones:

“ Captain Grenville, it was most important
that I should have seen Merle before the sailing
of the schooner, and I am going to ask you to
do me a very great favor.”

“In any way that I can serve you, Miss Mil—
ded, command me.”

“ Can you charter a yacht here, do you think,

or any vemel that is mast!”

“ For what purpose, ' Mildred!” asked the
captain in surprise.

‘I will tell you: I wish to Overhaul yonder
schooner, and for a vessel I will pay any price
in reason.”

“Wh , Mildred, are on sosilly as to throw
away a rge sum 'ust or a farewell kiss?” said
Eats 10, rein-3M y.

“ I am not ly, and money is made to cater
to our desirer 33 have promised, Captain
Grenville, ondl lexpect you to keep your
word, for it is most impel-tan that I shoul see
Merle—most important indood, and what is
done must be done at once.”

Arthur Grenville into the beautiful,
earnest face before him, and saw that she was
in dead] earnest—that she had some good rea—
son for or act, other than a romantic desire to
run after Merle and bid him good-by.

After a moment’s thought he said: '

“ Let me make a. suggestion, Rios Mildred!”

“ I am Ikten , sir. ‘ O

“ Out at Lake e Marie’s yacht is await-
ing as: it inn snug ll e schooner of thirty tons_
and will easily accommodate our part , so
propose that you ladies drive home an make’
your preparations for a cruise, while I purchase
stores and send them out to the lake, and b
night we can set sail, and endeavor to had 0
Captain Sebastian at the South Pam of the Mis-
simi i. for be will not run very rapidly down
the ver' if we miss him there, we can run
acres to Havana. where he will touch, he told
me, for a dav.”

“Captain Grenville, God bles on.”

It was all that Mildred could say, as her heart
was full with joy.

“You may go on your cruise
1 will return to my home in i

 

if on like, but
rgiiiia, for now

 
  

V D
i
.
;

.«—A._.

h- ...<..

..-......-.....-..... ‘- e_~--..._..

VM“”.—-v-

 

~_._. . ,. . --_._,,-

that you are married, Estelle, I will be no lon-
ger needed at the Lodge: but it beats my time,
when girls run after young men, as they do
nowadays,” and Mrs. Dabney bridled up con--
siderably.

“You will doubtless be benefited by the
change, Mrs. Dabney -—this far Southern climate
does not seem to agree with you at all; you look
fully ten years older than you did when you
came, and the yellow fever is—”

“Captain Grenville, when does the first packet
sail for the north, sir?” interrupted Mrs. Dab-
ney, as soon as Mildred spoke of her age, and
re erred to the yellow fever.

“ To-day, madam.”

“ I will take it, you can send me my baggage
when you return to our home.”

Arthur Grenville owed litely, and said:

“Now Miss Mildred, i on will drive Es-
telle an Mrs. Dabney to t e hotel, and after
you have made your preparations, will ‘oin
them there, I will get the yacht’s stores, an we
will be in readiness to start as soon as pos-
sible.”

Mildred quickly threw o n the carriage door,
and the captain aided the adios into the vehicle,
which was at once rolled away toward the
IIotel Saint Louis.

Two hours after, Arthur Grenville arrived,
and found the three awaiting him—Mrs. Dab-
ney anxious to go at once on board the packet
for Baltimore and Mildred and Estelle equally
as anxious to off on the yacht.

Entering the carriage in waiting, and which
was Mildred’s own vehicle, they drove away,
dropping Mrs. Dabney on route at the packet,
and wishing her bon voyage, a wish she took
gruilly, for she had hoped to rule at Derring-
ton Lodge, and had expected Estelle to go to
her husband’s home.

“ Now, Hannibal, drive with all speed out to

Lake Borgue -4don’t spare the horses; do you
hear?”
“ es, Missy Mildred, I make dem go like
scared rabbits, ’kase dey hain’t had much to do
0’ late,” replied Hannibal, evidently forgetting,
that every night since Mildrcd’s departure for
Mobile ten days before, he had been giving] his
black Dinah a drive out into the country be ind
the stylish grays.

But they swiftly along the level road to
the lake, an in good time arrived in sight of
the graceful little yacht.

Boats were alread busy carrying stores from
two wagons out to t a vessel, and half an hour
after the anchor was up, the sails spread, and
the yacht moved swiftly over the waters, gild-
ed by the light of the setting sun.

A thorough seaman, Captain Grenville at
once laid his course, so as to gain every league
he could, and, with a young man, whom he had
eagle. ed in New Orleans to act asothis first mate,
an ve actmg‘ in t e capaci socon mate,
the yacht was well oflicered, while, for a crew,
it had half a. dozen slaves from Grenville Grange,
all of them raised on the water and good sailors.

Still, swiftas had the yacht over the waves
it seemed to E: slow by far to suit Mildred
Monteith, w paced” the deck with nervous

tread, as though some great trouble rested upon
her heart.

Thou b not appearing to, Captain Grenville
watch her closely, for he felt that she held
some good reason for her present strange course
that in good time she would make known, an
her apparent nervousness caused him to dread
coming evil.

Este le also watched Mildred closely; from
the first she had been opposed to this foolish
trip yet she dare not say so, for she saw that
Mi dred was determined, and also could see that
she was, though polite and additive to her, yet
acting so from lici.

She did not 1 ke t 9 turn affairs had taken,
and wished the suspense over.

“What can cause her to act so, I wonder?
Has that foolish brother of mine been showing
hisdinlike to Merle  caused her to
suspect harm may be r lover, if he sails
with him? It may be, for Wilber is fearftu
inclth at times, and I do hope will not act

rashl .

“I? the youth does not return, if aught should
befall him, and I judge it will, from what Wit-
ber said, I ho m brother will have the good
sense to keep is s clear of suspicion.

“If he does not; if Mildred should ever sus-
pect that he had wronged Merle, then he need
never expect to win her.

“ No, no, I know her too well' quiet as she is,
amiable to a fault, she is a Oreo e, and revenge-
ful; and determined, too, as a blind man could
see, by her persist' r in this foolish whim.

‘ I am certain, if rthur had not offered the
yacht, that she would have chartered a vessel
at an price.

“ ow swift we run! I fear we will head
the schooner o ; but I hope not, sincerely.

“If we do, I trust we will find all wel , for I
know she suspects Wilber.”

Then raising her voice from her musings, Es-
telle said:

“Mildred, see how swift] we fly alon l”

“ Fly? why we are crawl n9, it seems me;
Merle has always told me that this craft was
very fast—I confess that he must be fearfully

 

"in Mobile; he didn’t see Han’bal ’

 

Merle, The Mutineer.

 

 

prejudiced in favor of it because it belongs to l
him,” and Mildred Spoke really peltishly, and
caused Captain Grenville, who held the helm, to
look at her with surprise.

“ That girl has some deep motive in all this—

I
l
‘ What it is, I cannot fathom; but I will aid her 
l

all in my power,” he muttered, and then gave
the order to trim the sails closer. “ We must ’
get all we can out of her on this tack, Mr. Ains- '
lie,” he said, calmly, addressing Merton Ainslie, I
the young mate he had engaged in New Orleans. I
" Ay, ay, sir; she certainly has her b0\\spl'it 1
pointed now right into the winds eye,” replied 
the young sailor, casting an admiring glance at I
Mildred, as she passed him in her steady pacing
to and fro. I

 

CHAPTER XVIII.
A PLOT Foa RUIN.

UNTIL a late hour Mildred paced the deck,
and then retiring to the snug little state-room
assigned to her use, she awakened her maid,
who had accompanied her, and was asleep upon
the cabin floor, and bade her bring her a light.

The light was brought, and seating herself by
the little dressing-staud,'Mildred took from her
bosom two letters.

They were both addressed to her—that is to.

‘ Mrs MILDRUD MUNTEETH,
“ Number 100 Guvermint Sir-eat,
" Mobeel. Alabamer.”

The handwriting was not of the best, and the
spellin would have kept the writer at the foot
of hlsc ass in school.

Openln one of the letters, and the seal of
which ha been broken before, Mildred read:

" Mrs MILDRUD anm.

“ Dunn Mrs.
“ I kalled
at yer home ter see you partickuler an as yer nig-
er Butler an s as how you is at Mobeel an wont
ee back fur 1 Days, i makes bold ler right ter you,
Mis,bein as how ther migger gin me er derecshun
arter I bed gin him a cussin & five D0 are.

“ I guesses as how the last did ther biz. l

“Now Mia, l right ter you ter an as I isa frend ,
of on ther ng man as is ter Mister Mun- l
tee b: no, Mis, I dont mene that, but ther yung ‘
man as is ter maklefyou Mis Greenvdl.

“He saved m ' e twice, when i was Bound for
davy Jones loc er & I dont forget a trend & bein as
how he is not hear, an is goin to sail in ther skun-
ner with Captin Wilber Seebastin, I flights to you to
come ri ht home and run acrost s bows, cause
hoes he in fur breakers. '

“ Ef I cud see yer, Mis, I cud tell you more, an of
you dont git here in time i will ‘ ht you agin tellin
you all about it, & i will try & se stcr Greenvill &
tell him he is Quin among sharks.‘

“1 sails in t eskunner to, & will look arter him
all I kin.

“ No moar at present, Mis, from

“ Yours trooly
“JACK Beams:
“At yer sarvice, Mis.”

This uliarly written letter was what caused
Mildret Monteith immediately upon its rece
tion, to start back to New Orleans, under e
care of a friend who was returning, while her
guardian remained to complete the business

but had carried them to Mobile.

It was a letter that told of danger to Merle,
and that was sufficient.

At an early hour of the‘morning, when the
aristocratic Creoles were turning over for their
sweetest nap, she returned to her home, where
she lived alone with the servants.

Her negro butler, the one to whom Jack Bunt-
lino had given “ a cussin’ and five dollars, ” met
her at the door. . _

” Welcome back Missy Mildred,” he said,
with a grin of delight.

“Daniel, 8 man came here to see me some
days ago, and on ve him my address in M0-
bile?” cried Mildr , as soon as she had entered
the mansion. _ .

“ ’Fore do Lor’ God I didn’t, miss ,” exclaim-
ed the pious Daniel, with a ready 9, thinking,
like his old-time namesake, he had otten him-

self,”flguratively speaking, into “lion’s
den.

“And you saw no man, who came here ask-
ing to see me on particular business?”

"No, mimy; dot sailor-man done tole you a
lie,” and the whites of Daniel’s eyes went up
piously, while he muttered, sotto voce.‘

“ I goin’ tor fro do letter I has inter de fire.”

“I am sorry, Daniel,” said Mildred not no-
ticing in her anxiety, that Daniel had betrayed
himse f by speakin of “a sailor-man.” “I am
very sorry, Danie , for I had hoped he had
called again, or left a letter with you for me; it
must have been Hannibal he saw. ’

“ Oh, Miss Mildred,” and Daniel’s eyes
brightened, “ understau’s you now; you axes
me of derewas a man caledtoseeyou,an’I
as 8 no; but dere was a gemman as come, a
so 101- gemman, an’ be axas me for our address
, missy, an‘
1 gives him your derectlon, ’cause he was so
perlite, an’ be gi’n me a—’ dime, Daniel was
going to say; but he remembered in time that
a gentleman would not be so mean and he
twmted the word on his tongue into “dollar.”

“ Well, has he been back again?”

“ Yes, missy, not half a hour ago an’ he gi’n

 

 

me this letter for you,” and Danie dove into
the recesses of an inner pocket for the epistle.

Hardly did it up ear in the light of day, be-

: fore Mildred snatc ied it from his hand, glanced

over its contents rapidly, ordeer the carriage
and drove to the l‘lVl‘l‘, to arrive, as the reader
has seen, too late to catch the schooner.

This is the second letter received from Jack
Buntlinc, and which Mildred read over again,
by the light in her little stateroom on the
yacht:

“ SKUNNER-IIv-WAR Sm: SARPINT,
“ “'ensday mornin‘. i
“Mrs MILDRUD Ivivmr-m'rn:

“ I r els as how
you has not bin able to git hear before t ie sailin 11v
ther skunner, which is 1o sale at oust, so as to git
Mister G1 eenvill ter see, before \ m1 cum back.

“I tolr- you as how I wud make uowu to you that
there was trubhel ahead for yer lover. kase I heard
with my own cars that he was not to be aloud to
return to the buxom of your family, the same as how
he was not wanted to be youre lover, b--in as how
he hed cut ther cable 0v Captin Seebastins IIIILC‘
shuns fur vou.

“ We 3 es from hear to Iiavany, an a letter mout
reach him thar callin him away from the skumu-r,
fur ef he stays on board sumlhln mout happen to
him, an 1 guesses as how it will, kase he has got. em
cmys aboard, and its mighty easy to loos a man in a
storm, or of we git intern skrimmage with bloody

irats to shoot him in ther back, or stick him with a
yctalieu slillclter the same as Mexikin socyor-
reeters uses when t ey is jellous.

“1 rights this in u. hurry, as the skunner salt-s in
2 hours, an I will leave it fur you with yer nigger
Butler, an of he aint perlite for me arter ther live
Dollars I gin him I will punch his bed.

“No moar now, Mis, an iwill keep my i on ther
yung Lull‘.

“ Excoos writin an s ellin as my quill pen is yery
had, an I guesses as ow ther ole goose was on-
helthy, knse it wont right ter soot.

“ Yours trooly},
“JACK momma,
“ At yer sarvice, Mis.

" P. S.—Ther Luff is now on board but i cant git a
chance ter s ak to him.

“P. S. 2.—- cant ever tell as how you herd from
me, or i will be a gone koon sartin. J. B.”

“ A noble heart under a rough exterior the

r fellow has, and I will reward him for what

c has done, when we overhaul the schooner—
and over haul it we must,” said Mildred, firmly.
“ Ohl that we could but make this vessel fly
for I shall not rest until I have seen Merle,” and
the unhap y girl threw herself down in the lit-
tle berth; at with the first glimmer of dawu
she was upon deck again, and ever ' time that
Dave’s voxce rung out, at si ht o a sail, she
turnedd alternately red and pa e with hope and

ea

“ Sail hol massa.”

_“ Whereaway, Dave?” asked Captain Gren-
vflle, cheerily, for the yatch was now in the
path of the schooner.

“ She comin’ aid the wind, sah—jist yander,”
replied the faithful negro.

‘ Ay ay, and ’tis a schooner,” cried Captain
Grenville, turning his glass u n the stranger.

Nearer and nearer came 1; e stran e vessel,
until it was soon discovered not to be t 9 object
of their search.

“He must have passed out of the river by
this time; we will doubtless have to follow him
to Havana, Miss Mildred.”

“ Follow him an where, everywherel so that
we overtake him,’ vehemently replied Mil-

‘f There’s a sail coming in, sir; perhaps if we
had, we may find out if the schooner has been
seen by them " said Merton Ainslie.

‘A good 1 ea, Ainslie. Dave, head so as to
Ease near yonder vessel,” called out Captain

xienvdlte to the helmhsman.

u an ours time e stranger a bri 6
Spanish colors, passed near. ’ g ymg

.“ Ola la bri amino,” hailed Captain Gren-
vdle, in Spanish].

“ Ay, ay, senor!” came the answer.

“Have you seen an armed schooner, Ameri-
can, headin for Havana?” '

“  or at dawn this morning, senor; she
carried a white at the fore, with a queen
sea-serpent upon it.

“ Thank you, senor' it is the schooner we
seek,” and turning to Mildred, who had breath-
less] listened to the reply, he continued:

“ ell Miss Mildred, its a stern chase to Ha-
vana. r. Ainslie, let all sail be crowded upon
the yacht. ” '

Under her increased canvas the fleet vessel
sped on, and all beheved she would drop anchor
in the harbor of Havana very soon after the
schooner.

.But with night the wind set in to blow a gale,
right in their teeth, and the following day was
rough and equally, while a severe storm came
on with the ni h which forced Captain Gren—
ville to run be are it far of! his course.

Verin the elements seemed enrolled against
thgztlanchdiftledvessel. I ted h

engt an was sig i -t e een shores
of the “Ever Faithful Isle,” and gal. the same
time a sail was discovered slow ly standing along
the coast. ~

“ It is the schooner, thank Neptune l" exclaim-
ed Ca tain Grenville.

“ here can she be coming from, sir?" asked
Ainslie.

“Doubtless bl wn of! her course as were we;
she certame ta esit leisurely, for see they have

 

 

Merle, rThe Mutineer.

. “MP—W- ,

15

 

nothing but the mainsail and jib set, in this

spanking breeze,” said Arthur Grenville.
“Dere’s mighty few fokes on de deck, sah,”

called out one of the negro crew from the fore-

to .

P‘By Jove! you are right, Joe; what can it
mean?”

“ The flag is half-mast, sir, and union down,”
cried Merton Ainslie.

“ Oh, Heaven! are we too late?”

It was Mildred that kc, and she turned her
eyes upon the distant sc ooner.

The yacht was now flying so as to head the
schooner off, and with all sail set that would
draw.

As they drew nearer, Captain Grenville sig-
naled the vessel-of—war who they were, and the
schooner immediately lay to and awaited the
yacht’s approach.

Swee ing close under the stern of the Sea Ser-

nt, the yacht was brought to, and Captain

renville hailed:

“Aho ', the schooner! Sebastian, in God’s
name w at has happened to you?”

All breathlessly awaited the answer, while
they gazed at the almost vacant decks of the
schooner, for not a dozen men were visible on
board.

“ There has been a mutiny and a number kill-

;‘Morle Grenville was the mutineer leader. ”

CHAPTER XIX.
THE CAT-OF-NINE-TAILS.

WHEN the schooner-of-war Sea Se nt pass-
ed out of the murky waters of the ississippi
river into the blue depths of the Gulf of Mexico,
a sudden change was visible in the face of Wil-
ber Sebastian.

Before, it had been lo and anxious; now it
was flushed, and a loo of triumph shone in the
eyes while a smile of cruel deviltry rested upon
t e i .

It gas his first se rate command, and as ea -
tain, he felt himsal undisputed ruler of his ship
and crew—upon his deck he was whatever he
chose to be, and he was determined that those
under him should know it.

The senior lieutenant, Otis Alden, and an old-
time friend of Wilber Sebastian, seemed to par
take of the same feeling as his commander, for,
whenever he could, upon the frigate, be a tty
tyrant, he had never allowed the opportunity to
escape.

Lucien Bethune, the surgeon, seemed also of
the same mind as his ca tain and the senior
Lufl for he had alwa s n on the side of
cruel when naval iscipline he'd been dis-

Hence it was, that Merle found himself the
only one of» the superior ofllcers whe believed in
temperin discipline with mercy; but his views
were laug ed at by his comrades, and he felt
that the schooner’s crew were destined to have
no eas time of it.

In t isconjecture he was wholly right, for,
once in blue water, Captain Sebastian had all
hands called aft.

His short address to the crew was a forebodo
ing of what they might expect:

‘Men, this is a vessel-ot-war, and I am her
commander. My discipline shall be such as to
allow no disobedience or lazinem among my
crew. If you would kee scars from your backs
fly at my command; go orward to your duties. ”

The crew went forward to their duties, but
man a brow lowered and many a face poled.

“ ist what I said he was—a cruel tyrant.
Shipmates, yonder is that devil, an’ we is in his
power,” growled Jack Buutline.

“Now up into the rigging there, on devils!”
yelled Captain Sebastian, sudde y, and the
men flew to their posts.

Then for an hour the crew were kept u n the
run, shaking out reefs. reefin again an reset-
ting, aud every time descending on deck to be
cursed as a pack of lazy lubbers.

Of course this incessant work broke the crew
down, and those who were utterly winded fell
under the eye of the ca tain for unishment.

“ ig the gratings, . Greu e, for punish-
ment.’

With a white face and stem lips Merle obey-
ed, and the crew were mustered to see their un-
fortunate shipmates punished for no oflense‘
whatever. ‘ .

Forward of the gratings stood the marine
guard with loaded muskem and bayonets fixed,
facing the crew, and further aft the officers
with drawn swords, while the surgneon was
standing on one side, With the boatswa and his

m near b .
Iatregnting t e gratings stood the master“.
arms and the prisoners—five in number. _
With cruel calmness Wilber Sebastian in-
ted the arrangements, and saidhsternly: .
“ Strip the first prisoner, boatswain, and some
n

him p. .

Quietly the boatswain obeyed, and a young
man, a mere youth, was dragged to the grating,
and his arms and legs made tast, as he stood in
a nearl 11 right 'tion. _

His shirtpwas t n dragged from his shoul-
ders, exposing his naked back, and Captain Se-
bastian read the “articles of war,” charging the
prisoner with neglect of duty.

 

 

“ N ow, boatswain, let your cat wag its tails!”
he ordered, with a smile.

“ How many, sir?” asked the boatswain.

“ Give him a dozen l”

“ Ay, ay, sir,” and the boatswain seized the
cat-of-nine—tails.*

Measuring his distance well, the boatswain
rolled up his shirt-sleeve, to give the muscles of
his arm fair play, and separating the “tails,” so
that each one mi ht spread and do efi'ective
work, he brought t e lash down upon the naked
back with terrible force.

Blood-red lines crossed the back as the whip
was raised a sin, and the voice of the master-
at—arms was eard counting:

‘ t  x” '

Again fell the cruel lash, causing the poor
man to writhe in agony, but no groan escaped
his set lips.

H  !”

A third time fell the “ cat,” and the blood
sputtered those who stood near.

“Three!” called out the master-at—arms, and
yet no cry for mercy.

“ Four!”

Had Wilber Sebastian no mercy? a

None!

“ Five!” and as the lashes were Withdrawn
they dragged the minced flesh with them.

“ Six 1’

And thus it went on until the master-at-arms
reported that the dozen blows had fallen upon
the naked back. '

Still he uttered no groan.

“B Heaven! I’ll drag a c
from is stubborn lips,” cried
in a fury.

“Release him now, and seize up the others!
then his turn shall come again.”

“The r wretoh was taken from the grat-
ing, his ack dripping, his face as white as mar-
ble, and his lips gushed, where his teeth had
pierced them in agony.

Another prisoner was then lashed up, and, re-
membering that his shipmate’s pluck, in not
crying out, had condemned him to another
dozen, he yelled lustily, and was let down at the
end of the twelve.

Then followed the third, each with their al-
lotted twelve, and the fourth wretoh shrieked
for merc ere he was seizod up to the grating.

“ Oh. ! what have I done?” he asked, and
as the cruel lash cut deep into his flesh he cried:

“ Captain, oh! captain, for the love of God!
mere !”

“ (rive the bleating calf another dozen for his

for mercy yet
ilber Sebastian,

howling,” yelled Ca tain Sebastian, and the or- 3 ,
E ’ hands clenched upon t err clasp-knives.

der was obeyed, t e wretched man fainting
several times, and each time revived by Lucien
Bethune, to under his torture.

“ Nowfidbmwahigflseifie u that dumb brute
again a ‘ e l e c me mercy ,
said Captain Sebastian, grimly. ry

Again was the first prisoner lashed to the
grating and u n his bed back fell another

ozen cruel b ows; st' no cry for mercy.

“ He has had two dozen, sir," and the master-
at-arms politely saluted.

“ Boatswain’s mate, take the cat and give
him another dozen.” '

“ Captain Sebastian, this is inhuman.”

Wilber Sebastian turned quickly, a wicked
look in his eyes, and met the indignant gaze of
Merle fixed upon him.

“ What mean you, sir?”

The silence of death rested upon all; even the
sufferers ceased their .

Calm, distinct, fear essl came the answer:

“ Just what I say, sir' t is is inhuman—those
men have been guilty of no offense.”

“ I will atton to you, anon, sir; boatswain,
give him another dozen, I say.”

There was an evil glare in the eyes of Wilber
Sebastian; there was a reckless, defiant look in
the eyes of Merle.

Again the whip fell heavily; but the form did
not even flinch—not a muscle twitched, and mo-
tioniug to the boatswaiu to hold Lucien Be-
thune stepped forward, and laid his hand upon
the mdn’s pulse.“

Then he felt his heart, and shook his head.

“Proceed, boatswaiu!” ordered the inhuman
ca tain.

‘ He is dead, sir.” _

It was Lucien Bethune that spoke.

Willber Sebastian turned livid; but he mid,
quic y:

“Not so, Bethune; a little blood-letting will
not kill him; but cut him down.”

The bleeding form was lowered from the
ghratglrilgghand a saw that the surgeon had told
t e .

The noblfe fellow was dead; be hard died with-
outa cry ormercy or s groan o agou ' his
brave heart had broken beneath the cruelyiash,
and Wilber Sebastian was his murderer.

“ Captain Sebastian, you are an inhuman
wretch—a coward, and a murderer!"

“ Hal by the heavens above! on shall suffer
for this,” and Wilber Sebastian med upon the
one who had made the bold charge against him.

But Merle stood calm and firm.

 

‘ Nine tails, or ru eighteen inches long, each,
and as thick as the itt e finger, and made fast to a
handle twelve inches in length; a cruel whip indeed.

 

He had been goaded to madness by all he had
witnessed, and, had his life been the forfeit, he
would have spoken as he did.

“ Hand me your sword, sir!” and Captain Se-
bastian held forth his hand.

“ You are not fit to receive it,” and Merle
drew the blade. snapped it quickly in two, and
threw the pieces into the sea.

“ By the Virgin! but this is mutin !”

“Call it what you please. sir; I re use longer
to serve under such a tyrant.”

The words were calm and fearless.

“ Ye gods! you shall suffer for this; master-at-
arms, seize that man.”

It seemed at first as though Merle intended to
resist; but he thought better of it, and quietly
submitted to the arrest.

Had be known what was to follow he would
have died rather than have submitted.

A hellish look now crossed the face of Wilber
Sebastian and he turned to his officers.

“ You see, gentlemen, that this man is a mu-
tineer?”

They both bowed in assent.

“I could have him shot dead for this; but I
will be merciful and spare his life.

“ Boatswain, seize him up for punishment-—
he shall feel the cat!” '

A groan broke from the crew and grim smiles
rested on the faces of Otis A den and Lucien
Bethune; as for Wilber Sebastian, his hand-
some face was now flendish in its look of hellish

JO .

{ierle distinctly heard the base order, and his
face turnedtothe hueofaco .

“ Do you mean it, Wilber Se tian?”

The tone was deep and suppressed, and there
was a strange glare in his ges.

“ I do, by the Eternal! ize him up for pun~
ishment, I say, boatswain!”

The crew moved nervously, as the boatswain
stepped forward to obey, and Wilber Sebastian
turned toward the officer of marin and mo-
tioned him to be ready for an out

All expected Merle would resist; but instead,
hebsaid, with a forced calmness that was tor-
n e:

“ I am ready, boatswain.”

CHAPTER XX.
_ THE MUTINEER.
WITH his own hands Merle threw aside his

 

- uniform coat, and then his allid face flushed as

 

he bared his back to the

“ Will that werful, splendidlmrmed man
submit to the egradation of the l”

Such was the thou ht of all, and scores of

Every face was white now; every man’s
breath was hard drawn.

It was bad enough to see an ordinary seamen
lashed for an offense committed; bu to behold

an o oer, one who had rebuked ' amenity,
one who, if he had erred in add ' his oom-
manderas he did, erred upon 1: side of

‘ ht.
11$l‘his sight was horrible indeed. Would not
the other officers step forward to his relief!
Would they see him humiliated, when by re-
monstrating they could prevent itl'
. Yea the were but the tools of their captain;
:1: had se ected them knowmg' he could use
em.
The marine lieutenant had attempted to
' but a stern rebuke

It thus lay with the men—the crew.
ystoodinasilenoethatwasfore ' .

The four men who had been punished
ceased to feel their pain; they crouched down
on the deck, awaiting what would follow.

The man who had been killed lay stark and
stiff before them.

Were his white face and wild, staring eyes
not a warning? -

It seemed not, for the work of preparation
went on, and Merle was tied to the grating.
A sifgrh ran through the crowd of seamen; one
word cm the doomed ofllcer, and Wilber Se-
bastian and his tools and supporters would be
hurled into the sea.

But he spoke not that word, and the lash
whirled around the boatswain’s head.

Had he no pity? _

No; he gloried in the power to let_ tell his
whip upon the back of asuperior; Wilber Se-
bastianknewhismanwhenhemadehimhis
boatswain.

A swish through the air, and down came the
savage blow upon the scarless white shoulders.

si-

A of agony burst from the crew, sound-
ing s the mutteringf a coming storm; yet
no word came from lips of Merle.

“ Silence 1” .

It was Wilber Sebastian who shrieked forth
the word} ll th h‘ d red age. wed
in e e w 1p, an n c

thmck look like network.

A third time o lash fell.

A fourth, a fifth, asixth; still no groan from
the suflerer—not even the quiver of a am

And thus it went on, until the twelve were
struck, and the back was seamed with gory

‘ F’eel his pulse, Bethune, and see whothecalr

’ \

_......._m m.

.“w o_.

The sneering order came from Wilber Sebas—
tian.

Ste ing forward, Lucien Bethune laid his
hand ightly upon the pulse.

It was strong and strangely even, in spite of
what he had undergone, for each blow had been
nine stripes ; eighty-four in all. '

“ He can stand four dozen, sir.”

Such was the report of the inhuman surgeon,
whose duty it was to heal, not to afflict the
bod of his fellow-kind.

T e face of Merle was quickly turned toward
him, and Lucien Bethune never forgot the look
he saw there.

“ Oh, a man with his physique should stand
m’m dozen.”

There seemed a stran e maliciousness in the
voice and words, and Mer 6 turned his eyes upon
the speaker; it was Otis Alden, and he remem-
bered the gaze that met his.

“ Boatswain mate, give him another dozen!”

Merle nerved himself to bear the torture, and
the executioner took his stand.

“ Never! by the God above, never! Down
with ther tyrants, lads!”

The voice was hoarse and commanding, and
Jack Buntline rung forward, and drove his
knife to the hilt n the boatswain mate‘s bosom.

All were taken by surprise at the sudden and
bold act- but the crew were now at white heat,
and, with their drawn clasp-knives, rushed upon
Wilber Sebastian and his sup rters.

There were loud orders to t e marines to fire,
and a volle of musketry, that cut down a
dozen men, red at close quarters as it was and
then the officers, and those who upheld them,
were driven back lipon the quarterdeck.

“ Release me! or the love of God sever my
bonds!” shrieked Merle; but none heard him;
those who had sprung to his defense were seek-
ing revenge upon his persecutors.

“ Oh, God! this must not be.” and with super-
human strength Merle tore himself from the
grating, severin the cords that bound him as
thou h they ha been so much am.

W th a capstan bar in han , he rushed into
the melee, his face livid, his back bleeding, his
eyes glaring, and every muscle standing out
h 0 knots; he seemed a very demon in the fray.

“Back! all of you! I sa bac l Obey, orI
will crash in our brains th th 3 bar 1”

It was to e crew he spoke—not to the small
minty who had rallied around Wilber Sebas-

, and who were about to be hurled into the
sea when Merle appeared upon the scene.

“ It is for you, sir, we struc ” cried Jack
Buntline, in intense sur

“1 know it, my brave fellow and I thank
you; but this conflict must end here—I com-
mand it 1”

Then turning to Wilber Sebastian, be con-
tinued:

“ Captain Sebastian, your hatred for me has
caused all this trouble. Lay down your arms,
would you and your followers save your lives.’

“ And give you the chance to la the lash on
our backs!” sneered Wilber Sebast n.

“Not so; had I desired I could have raised
the men to mutiny ere you scourged my back.
Between you and me there is a deadly_account
to settle but that time is not now.

“ Wi cu surrender, sir?”

“ Wha will be done with us?”

“I will hold you and your followers rison-
ers, and command the schooner m l , until
we meet some vessel that I can ta 9 passage
upon, accompanied by my brave and unfortu-
nate shipmates here.

“Then you, and those who choose to remain
with you can continue on your cruise in the
schooner.”

;"’What guarantee have I that you will do
so

“ M word.”

“Bah! you will break it as soon aswearein

our war.”

“ ilber Sebastian you are a fool; we can
hurl on into the sea :1 five minutes.

“ ere has been blood enou h spilled; a score
of dead men are now on this e'rk, as you see;
but if you do not acce t my terms, which are
all in your favor, I wil turn the gallant lads
loose upon you, and then no mercy shall be
shown.

“ Why do you wish to save my life?”

Merle s eyes flashed, and his voice trembled,
as he said:

“ "e revenge myself, in my own way, upon
you.

Wilber Sebastian shivered in spite of himself
and turnin to Otis Alden and the others, talked
with them or a few moments in a low tone.

“ The time is up! Shipmates get ready!”

It was the voice of Merle, and t rung out like
a trumpet.

“ We accept,” sullenly said Captain Sebas-
tian, and he extended his sword.

Merle uietly took it and threw it into the
sea, and . five minutes more Wilbur Sebas-
itian and his followers, nine in number, were in

rons.

Merle at once took command of the schooner:
:Bgointed acting officers from among the crew

headed for the western end of the island
of Cuba, expecting to meet some Mexican trad-
ing vemel coming out of the Caribbean Sea.

I

 

 

Merle, The Mutineerr

 

But a storm came on, and for several da 8
the schooner was buffeted about by the e e-
ments, and no vessel had been sighted, such as
Merle desired to embark on.

At length a schooner was descried close in to
ward the Cuban coast, and, Merle’s previous
e rience in those waters told him that the
lit le craft was one of the Spanish smugglers
that ply a good, yet illegal trade along the
shores.

“ There is one Chance, lads! If the fellow re-
fuses to carry us to Mexico we will force him to
do it ” said Merle.

Ha f an hour after the little schooner, which
had put to flight at sight of the Sea Serpent,
was brought to, by a shot.

The Spanish flag floated at the peak and the
captain, a swarthy Spaniard, who cal ed him-
se if an honest trader, was furious at being
brought-to, and refused all requests to take the
mutineers on board.

“Then, senor we shall use force; you have a
dozen men and I fifty all well arm .”

The S aniard saw that resistance was useless
and yie ed, while he swore that Spain woul'l
make the United States tremble for the insult
upon him.

“ Now, Captain Sebastian, I leave you, but in
irons; two of your men I shall carry with me,
for a con le of leagues, and then let them re-
turn in this boat, by rowing back, and they can
unlock your irons.

“ This will give us several hours’ start, and we
will not fear your pursuing us then.”

Wilber Sebastian fumed like a tiger at this.

He had believed that Merle would release
them, and .then he intended to stand of! and on
with the schooner, and sink the little vessel
with his guns. -

But he was foiled, and saw the mutineers
sail away, while he writhed in irons, unable to
prevent.

When at len h the two men returned in the
schooner’s aw , and took of! the irons of the

risoners, t 9 little vessel was hull down in the
istance and night was coming on.

With ' decimated crew and half of them
marines, not seamen, pursuit was useless, and
the idea was iven up.

Cram y their havin been ironed, all
were w ling tolie by for t 9 night, and rest
themselves; but with the early morn sail was
gotten upon the schooner, and the course laid
or Havana.

An hour after the yacht was sighted, and
with malicious triumph Wilber Sebastian had
answered the hail of Arthur Grenville for he
had seen Mildred Monteith upon the deck.

His words created the wil est excitement on
the yacht and Captain Grenville hissed forth:

“ ilber Sebastian, if you have lied to me I
will tear our false tongue from your throat ”
and he cal ed away a boat, at the same timete !-
ing Estelle to look after Mildred, whohad fall-
en like one dead upon the deck.

 

CHAPTER XXI.
oumwnn.

Swnrrnr the boat from the yacht cut through
the waters and Captain Grenville with angry
brow and flashing eyes, sprung upon the deck of
the schooner.

At the ganfiway he was met by Wilber Sebas-
tian who sai in a tone of reproach:

“I forgive your savage words, Grenville, for
I know you must feel fearfully cut and hurt as
I d0° but it was all so sudden and unexpected.”

“ is is no explanation, sir.”

“ I will soon give it: but how is it I find you
cruising upon the coast of Cuba, when I left you
at New Orleans?” .

“ Captain Sebastian, are you attempting to
trifle with me!” ’

“ By no means, Grenville; but your presence
here surprises me, and—” _

“Sebastian, on havs made the vilest charge,
in the naval ca ogue of crimes, against Merle
Grenville, and I demand that you substantiate
it; if you do not and fully, by the God in
Heaven! you should rue it, were you my own
brother.”

Wilber Sebastian, a coward at heart, was as-
tounded; he felt that he had gone too far.

He had hated Merle from the first, and had
only wished him under his command to destroy
him apparently in a legitimate way, but effec-
tu y, and the opportunity had come sooner
than he had 9 ted.

Both Otis den and Lucien Bethune were
largely his debtors for gambling debts and, un-
principled as he was, well he knew that he could
use them, hence he had made known to them
that Merle was his rival and must, in some man-
ner be gotten out- of the way and under the

romise of a release of their 0 d obligations to

im, they had entered into h s plans. .

Mildred Wilber Sebastian was determined to
win, and he felt that he could do so, if Merle
was out of the way. _

A petty tyrant, he had enjoyed showm the
crew his power, but he had not thought erle
would so soon place himself in his clutches.

Now that the affair was over, he could tell his
m story, and be backed up in it by those with

 

._.

Had he been able to kill Merle, so much the
better for him, for there could be no proof
against him, and his hirelings would swear as he
wished them, and the deserters and mutineers
would not dare appear upon American soil to
prosecute him.

But now, he had to face Arthur Grenville,
himself a sailor and a gallant one, and who he
knew would hold him to the strictest account—
ability for his conduct toward Merle.

“ Captain Grenville,” he began, slowly, “I '
desire to make a statement to you, sir, and if
you doubt it, you are at liberty to act as you
please in the matter.”

“First, sir where is Mr. Grenville?”

“ He left this schooner yesterday heading the
crew whom he led in mutiny. ”

“ How did he leave sir?”

“I will tell you all, and Lieutenant Alden,
and my sur eon, Dr. Bethune, besides the others
that are wit me, will vouch for the truth of
what I say.”

“ A gentleman’s word should need no vouch-
ers, sir.”

Wilber Sebastian winced at the cutting re-
mark and replied: .

“ pon leaving New Orleans, Ca tain Gren-
ville, discovered that I had a be lot to deal
with in the shape of a crew, and, when we
struck blue water, their conduct was such that
I was compelled to have five of the worst triced
up and given the cat; but this did no good, and
in dealing severely with one stubborn fellow I
was most shamefully abused by Grenville, who,
before all, called me a wretch, and—”

“Did Merle do this wrong?” asked Captain
Grenvillle, who could not tolerate interference
with duty 11 on board ship, yet who little knew
what cause erle had to interfere.

“ ’Pon honor he did, and worse; in fact he
was so abusive to me that I demanded his
sword, and before my eyes he broke it in twain
and threw the pieces into the sea.”

“ The boy must have gone mad.”

“ So I thought, and so I verily believe for he
seemed to lose control of himself all of a sud—

den.

“ When he did this, I ordered him under ar-
rest, and, the crew at his back, he led the mu-
tineers; the boatswain’s mate was killed, and
then a score of men lost their lives, until we
lvgtrere”sei.sed and ironed—we whom you see

ere.

H ' '
bug‘gfnll astounding, that you tell me, Se

“ It certainly was to me Grenville.” l

“ Go on, I am listening.”

“Well, during the days of storm we were
kept in irons, and yesterday afternoon the mu-
tineers fired upon a Spanish trading schooner,
and captured it, after which he took his muti-
nous hounds with him and stood away into the
Gulf, but I think his destination is tosome Mex-

ican‘gort.”

“ hy did you not sink him with your guns
when he left the schooner?”

“ Such was my intention; but he eutwitted
me, by leaving us in irons and ing two of
my men with him, until he was hul down: they
then rowed back and released us, and here we
are, on route to Havana.”

“Sebastian, what I hear crushes m
in mankind. Great God! for Merle to
a deed!

“ But if he has thus been guilty he should not
escape. Havana is but ten leagues away and the
Governor-General will send vessels in pursuit;
no, I believe that there is an American cruiser
in the harbor and you can man your schooner
with part of its crew, and both 0 in chase.”

This was not what Wilber Se tian desired.
If an American vessel captured the mutineers it
would necessitate a court-martial in the United
States, and the ugly truth, for him, would come

0
nish vessel captured Merle and his fol-

trust
0 such

ut.

If a S
lowers t ey would be given but the show of a
trial, condemned and executed within twenty-
four hours.

Then a sudden thought came to him.

“ But this was in Spanish waters, and the ves-
sel seized was a Spaniard, so the Governor~Gen~
eral will have to_act in the matter.”

” It matters not, _ so that some one acts
promptly. This spirit of mutiny must be
crushed at once, or our navy will go to the dogs.
Now I will return at once to the yacht, and we
will head for Havana.

“Ah, me! It is a sad duty to tell poor Mil-
dred and Estelle this ailing story ” and Arthur
Grenville returned to is boat, and five minutes
after the yacht and schooner-of-war were swift-
1y Igliding along in the direction of Havana.

pon arrivin on board the yacht, Captain
Grenville foun that Mildred ad recovered
from her swoon, and she was. seated in im -
tient expectancy awaiting his coming, wh e,
almost equally as pale, Estelle sat by er side.

“ Well, is he dead!”

.The words were jerked out by the beautiful

rl.
81"No! Would to God he was,”

“  GNDViue, What do you me.“ g” and
Mildred sprung to her feet and confronted him.

“ Be seated» my poor Child, and have your
fond heart torn as mine has been.

 

 

1'7

 

“ Merle is alive; it were better for him, and
all of us, were he dead.”

“ Why will you keep me in suspense?”

“ I will no longer: Merle led a mutiny on
board the schooner, and-—-”

“It is false! false as the brazen throat that
told the lie,” and Mildred seemed almost leonine
in her fury.

Ca tain Grenville calmly shook his head.

“ I believed—so I said; et it is too
damnany true to doubt, Mildred. ’

“ What! do you doubt Merle, Captain Gren—
ville ?” -
all‘",The proofs are against him; I will tell you

In a few words Arthur Grenville made known
all that he had heard from Wilber Sebastian,
and Mildred listened without an interruption.

“Now what have you to say, Mildred?” asked
Estelle, a shadow of triumph in her tones.

The maiden flashed her eyes upon her and an-
swered:

“ I have to say that if Merle is a mutineer, he
was driven to it, to ruin him.

“Ahl there is some terrible mystery behind
all this, and time will one day prove that he
was more sinned against than smning.

“ You are oing now, you say, sir, to Havana,
to send vesse s in pursuit of the mutineer f”

“ Yes, such is the intention of Captain Sebas-
tian, and bitterly as I deplore it, I cannot but
urge him to do so.”

‘ I think you are ri ht; he must be captured,
for then we can hear n's side of the story.”

“ Mildred! do you not believe my brother’s
statement?”

“No, Estelle.

“ I am sorry, but I forgive you, as I know he
will, for on ave a deep sorrow to weigh on
down. hope, too, that the mutineers willybe
taken, for then you will see that Wilber has
spoken the truth.”

“ The harbor is in sight, sir,” called out Mer-
ton Ainslie from the deck, and the three left the
cabin.

The Sea Ser nt was in the lead ahalf-mile

rhaps, and eading in under the frowning

oro Castle, her flag at half-mast and union

down, which was excuse for not saluting with
her 
A lf-hour more and the two vessels were at
anchor, and Captain Grenville and Wilber Se-
bastian rowing shoreward, to have an interview
with the Governor-General, for a glance around
the harbor had shown that there was no Ameri-
can cruiser there.

_ Two hours the remained awa , and then
the returned, Wilber Sebastian s unning the
ya‘e Vt}  gorng on board his own vessel.

e

As she asked the uestion in one word Mil-
dredlooked'up into t 0 eyes of Arthur Gren-

ville.

e silently pointed to several barges filled
viith Spanish seamen and putting out frdm the
s ore.

.“ Those seamen are loaned Sebastian to man
his schooner and go in pursuit; the Governor-
General also sends a Spanish sloop-of-war and a
cutter in chase—there they come down the bar-
bor, now.”

As he spoke, Captain Grenville pointed to two
cruursers swrftly flying through the vowel-dotted
wa rs.

As they passed the yacht the Sea-Serpent’s
anchor was up, her fore' n crew at their posts,
and she swung round an followed in the wake
of the Spaniards.

Half an hour after, as the sunset gun from
El Moro echoed over the cit , Mildred saw the
American schooner take the and of the Spanish
cruisers, and the three stretch away out into the
Gulf under clouds of canvas.

“ And you sir, what will you do?”

“ Remain here, Mildred, until they bring us
news. Come, we will go ashore to pleasant;
quarte ”

Mildred cast one glance seaward, and silently
got into the waiting boat, whither Estelle had
already preceded her.

But though Havana lay before her, that old
and strange city of romance and tv, she
felt no leasure in the sight, for her heart was
bowed gown with a crushing woe; Merle had
been outlawed by the Governor-General as ade-
serter, a mutineer and a pirate.

 

CHAPTER XXII.
CONDEMNED TO DIE.

Tun roud old Governor-General of 8 mm
“ever aithful isle ”—that is ever provingum
faithful—sat in his gorgeous rooms at the Pa-
lacio—enjoyingea Cigar and glam of Wine as a

,

“night-cap,’ fore retiring to rest, for mid-
nigb'ihgfisepggi-edc'apimn De Silva . an an-
dience, Excellenza, late as it 18,” m a young
Whittamit Silva back again? Assuredly,
bofiebid widow and the Governor-Genera]

' 1 ud:
002%: he: 0been gone ten days, and— Ah:
senor, I am rejoiced to welcome you home

again.”

 

Merle, The Mutineer.

A tall, elderly man entered the room, his eyes
sparkling, as be advanced and took the proffered
hand.

He was dressed in the full uniform of a Span-
ish naval captain, and commanded the sloop-0f-
war, sent ten days before, in pursuit of the mu-
tineers, deserters and pirates, as Merle and his
followers were now cal ed.

“1 am rejoiced to get back, Excellenza, and
more so, to report that I was successful.”

“ Sainted mother be praised! And the cutter
and American schooner?”

“ I have not seen them, senor, since the night
I left Havana; we parted company after gain-
‘ a good offing.”

‘And you have the pirates?”

“Safe, senor, and came to report to you, and
ask what is to be done with them.”

“I’ll decide after I have heard your story—
there, help yourself to Wine, and light a cigar; I
can always talk best with a cigar between my
teeth.’

The Spanish captain accepted the double in-
vitation; dashed off the wine and lighted a fra-
grant Havana.

Then he said:

“I obe ed your orders, Excellenza, and steer-
ed for isal, and then followed the Mexican
coast, while the American headed for Metamo-
ras to run down to Tampico, and the cutter
lai his course for Vera Cruz to run up to Tam-
pico, which was to be our rendezvous, you know,
senor?

“The second night out, if your Ercellenza re-
members, we had some very rough weather for
a hurricane had swe t to the north-east of us,
and must have been elt all along the southern
waters of the Gulf.

“ Through this storm I was enabled to meet
with success for otherwise, I am confident our
cruise would have been useless, 'udging from
the young fellow who was the lea ing mutineer,
and a handsome, fearless fellow he is, only tpo
sad-looking, I think.

“The storm, I say, Emcellenza, aided me, for
the fourth day out we sighted a small wreck,
both masts gene which proved to be the very
craft I was searc ing for.

“ I saw by its crowded decks that something
was wrong, and on sending an oflicer on board,
found the mutineers, who surrendered quietly,
knowing how useless would be resistance.

“ I had them ironed and brought on the sloo ,
and held some conversation with the leader in
my cabin; but you can imagine my surprise
w en my daughter, the Senorita na, who
you know accompanied me, as she often does,
came from her state-room and saluted the hand-
some mutineer as her brave defender.”

“ Ha! she fell into bad hands, some years ago,
when Freelance, the Buccaneer, captured the
brig that bro ht her from S in, and I’ll war-
rant this was t a youth who d her that gallant
service,” said the Governor~GeneraL

“Iam sorryto say he is, Beccllenza for he
saved my daughter’s ife and honor, and you re-
member entreated Freelance to release her,
which he did, tellin her he did so to please his
protege, and himse f paid the amount of her
ransom to his crew.”

“I remember, De Silva. What a strange fel-
low that Freelance was, and, by the way, the
American that was here the other day, the
Senor Grenville, is the very man we have to
thank for ridding the seas of the pirate. He is
now a planter in the States, he to d me, having
resigned his commission in the Navy. It is not
often you sea~rovers get tired of blue water. ”

“ Not often, Emcellenza; but to return to my

sto .
‘WVhen I found who the youth was, I was
deeply pained to have to bathe onete make him
risoner, after the noble service he had rendered
us, and I told him so; but he promptly said I
must do my duty, and that was t e and of it. I
put him in irons; but how an ex-buccaneer ofll-
cer can be a lieutenant in the United States
Navy, I cannot understand, and he declined to
have anythin to so. about himself. He smil-
rngl to (1 me hat a1 would come out, when he
$3.21 38 men were taken to the United States for

“  doubtlem is still following his buccaneer-
ing inclination, and, by some means got a com-
mission in the American Na , for the very
pu of taking the schooner.

“ t would look so, Emcelhnza ' still, he gave
the vessel up when it was in ' wer, and
went on board the trading craft, which, by the
way, senor, is nothing mm; thandOne of those
smu ers we are run ow so on
see  double du ix’mg n, y

‘.‘ Yes; but, De Si va, we will have to rotect
the smug ler in this case, as he was 11 er the
Spanish ag; he can go for scout-trader, you
know?” .

“Certainly senor, none need know that it
was a. smug ’ler the mutineers took, for that
would alter t 9 case against them.”

“The case against them is clear, De Silva;
they were mutmeers, committed murder upon
the high seas in Spanish waters, overhauled
and semeda panish vessel and were ca tured
by a Spanish cruiser after I had outlaw them
as pirates, and I shall execute them as such.”

‘ Then you will not turn them over to the

 

Americans, E'accellenza?” asked Captain De
Silva, in s rise.

“Not I! he honor belongs to Spain, and I
shall not be robbed of it. They go tonight
from your vessel to the Moro, and day after
to-morrow morning, I will have them marched
out and shot as pirates; then it will all he pub-
lished—‘A lieutenant of the noted Freelance,
the Buccaneer, with his men, seized an Ameri-
can vessel-of-war, was run down, and taken by
the gallant De Silva—”

“After the hurricane had dismasted their
craft, Emcellenza.”

“ You are too modest, senor :—-‘ was run down
and captured by the modest and gallant Cap-
tain De Silva, o the Spanish navy, who carried
them in irons to vana, where the merciful
Governor-General put them out of their misery,
by having them shot immediately giving them
just time enough to pray to the evil, their fa-
ther;’ how sounds that, e Silva?”

“But will the Americans not demand them,
Ewcellenza ?”

“They shall have their bones; there is no
American cruiser here, and if one is si naled as
coming in, I’ll have them led out an shot at
once.”

“ But the Senor Grenville, now here?”

“Is an ex-oflicer and here unofficially. No,
De Silva, you an I, and Spain shall not be
cheated out of the honor of shooting those fel-
lows. How many did you say there were of
them?”

“ Forty-seven men, with their leader, Emcel~
lenza.

“ Buerw ! I wish there were more: their exe—
cution will put down piracy and smuggling in
these waters. Help yourself to more wine,
senor.”

“ Thank you, Emcellenza; and I shall send
the prisoners to the Moro?”

“ At once; what, going?”

“ Yes, Excellenza.”

“My compliments to the Senorita Rena; tell
her I regret it, to shoot her handsome preserver,
but he has on] himself to blame for it.”
Captain De ilva bowed and left the Gover~

nor’s palace.

teway a volante awaited him, and
he was dnven rapidly down to the pier, in front
of which lay hisvessel, and springing into his
waiting boat he was soon in his own cabin.

Seated at the table, apparently awaiting his
return, was a maiden of twenty.

She was attired in a misty white dress, and
from the silver comb upholding masses of blue-
black hair, drooped a black vail.

Her form was exquisitely molded, abOVe the
average hight, and every movement was wil-
lowy and unstudied, whi 6 her dark face, pas-
sionate eyes, and ruby lips, made her face won-
droust beautiful.

This was the Senorita Rena De Silva, a Span-
ish maiden of noble line 9 and who, in the two
years or more she ha 11 in Cuba, had

roken hundreds of hearts, for she was a sad co—
quette, the world said a heartless one; but she
was forgiven, as she d vast riches, in-
dependent of her fa er’s wealth, which was
considerable.

“ Father, I am glad you have come; and
what says the Governor-General?” she asked,.
anxiously.

“ There is no hope Rena,” and the S ish
ca tain threw himself down in an easy-c air.

‘No ho ! He will not remiss to intercede
with the mericans for his Yet”

“I did not ask him, Rena for I saw that it
would be useless; he will allow the Americans
no say in the matter—he will have the whole
crew, leader and all, shot within thirty-six
hours.”

“What! Dare he do this?”

“ Yes, Rena, the Governor-General is utterly
fearless, as you know, and intends to take the
glory, if glory there is, in executing these men
as pirates, and what can the Americans say
when it is done?”

“ Thank him for taking the unpleasant du
03 their hands, I suppose; but if he inten
shooting them all, one will not be missed—the
lockers-on must be content with forty-six shot
down, and he must be allowed to go free.”

“ I dare not ask it of the Governor, Rena.”

“ You dare not, father; but I dare do it ."’

“ You, m daughter?”

“Yes, I your daughter: I will go to
the ace to—morrow, r‘i'aiy, te—day, for it is
near dawn now, and I 1 ask, nay, demand
his 1' e.”

“ It will be useless, Rena.”

“ I can but try, father.”

“True, and I ope you will succeed; Ihate to
see the brave fellow die, irate tho h he be.
Now retire to rest, while I see that t e prison—
ers go ashore,” and 011an De Silva left the

cabin.

But Rena did not retire to rest until she saw
boat: leave the side of the vmel—ofqvar and dis—
appear in the shadows of the gloomy Moro;

en, with a doe .mgh she turned from the
stern port, from w lch she had been gazing, and
sough her own state-room, with one determina-
tion in her heart.

That was that Merle the Mutineer should not
die, if gold, ora woman’s plotting could save him.

 

 

 

18

Merle, The Mutineer.

 

 

 

CHAPTER XXIII.
A USELESS APPEAL.

A'r a very earl hour, on the morning follow—
ing the arrival o the cruiser of Captain De Sil-
va, in the harbor of Havana, a volante drew up
at the gateway of the Palacio of the Captain,
or Governor-General of Cuba.

From the vehicle a lady, heavily vailed, alight-
ed, and ave her card to the sentinel, who dis-
patched it by a sergeant in to the ruler of the

‘ Gem of the Antilles.”

In a few moments a youn officer, in gorgeous
uniform came forward, an bowing low, bade
the lady follow him hto the Palacio.

Ascending the spacious stair-way to an upper
corridor, upon the opposite side of which was a.
grand hall-way, the visitor was ushered out 11 -
on a cool veranda which opened u n a love y
garden filled with orange and emon trees,
while the air was laden with the fragrance of
innumerable and rare flowers.

Numberless fountains filled the garden cool-
ing the air, and the trees were thronged with
singing birds, which made the place a very
Eden, in which to while away the sultry hours
of the day.

Half-reclining upon a willow settee, u n
which were sil en cushions, the Governor— en-
eral was sippin black coffee, eating a hard,
sweet biscuit ca led a semilla, and now and then
giving a whifi at a Regalia—a cigar seldom seen
awa from Havana, and a luxury indeed to the
smo er.

As the lady approached, the Governor threw
away his cigar, and rising, met her with extend-
ed hand.

“ Welcome, Senorita De Silva; this is indeed
an honor. Be seated and express how I can
serve you. By the way, allow me to thank you
for our part in the capture of those irates.”

“ t is of those pirates, as you call t em, your
Excellency, that I would speak—at least one of
them,” said Rena, firmly.

“ How can the Senorita De Silva feel interest
in a pirate, may I ask?” queried the Governor-
General, in su rise.

“I feel the interest of gratitude toward one
who rendered me a service I shall never forget.
Your Excellency is aware of the capture of the
vessel I came from Spain in, by Freelance, the
buccaneer?”

“ Yes, senorita, and that you recognized in
the leader of these outlaws, one who served you;
but what then, lady?”

“ It is your intention, my father tells me, to
have them all executed.”

“ It is; at sunrise to-morrow they shall be
shot;”taken as pirates they shall beshot without
trial.

“There can be one exception, if your Excel-
len is so inclined to favor me.”

“ n anything but sparing the life of one of
fiosefvre hes, yes, lady; but not in that, not in

at.

“ This is your firm decision, Emcellenza ?”

“It is—irrevocably.”

Rena De Silva knew the Governor-General
too well to urge more, and felt that her appeal
was useless; but she did not yet (i air.

“Still, our Excellenc , you w permit me
to visit t e prisoner, an carry with me a holy
father to cheer his last hours; you will not deny
me this, senor?”

“Assuredly not, senorita; they certainly de-
serve all the consolation the padre can give
them, for their sins have been reat, and i the
Senorita De Silva wishes to than in person, one
who has, I admit, gaudy served her, I will give
her carte blanche visit the Moro.

“Don Fernando will be onl too happy to
have the sunli ht of so fair a ace shine Within
its loomy wal s.”

nnoticing the compliment, Rena continued:

“ One favor more senor Excellency?”

“Name it, senoriia.”

“It is to give the r doomed men a respite
until tomorrow nigh , at sunset.”

“ Wh , senorita? Better have the matter
over wi h. ”

“No; let them die with the dying day, not
with its beginning.”

“You have some motive in this, senorita, I
cannot fathom,” and the Govsrnor-General eyed
her closely.

“ A woman’s motives, senor, are unfathom-
able ” smiled Rena.

“  From Father Adamtoourday no
man ever fully understood a woman,” laughed
the Governor.

"We are discussing men now, senor; will you
grant my nest?”

“ When I now what is the reason, senorita.”

“That I cannot now tell, Eweellma; but it
is a good one, and you are assuredly not afraid
of a girl, that you refuse.”

“ girl is a woman, senorita, and I am afraid
of everything that wears a petticoat,” and his
Excellency laughed half-seriousl .

Then, as if ashamed of his cabin, he con-
tinned:

“ Certainly, senorita; it is only a few hours,
more or less, and I will nt it: but when the
wretches come to die in he evening they will be
so they were not executed in the morning.”

“ e, and if led out in the morning, t ey

 

would wish to live until evening, your Excel-
lencv.”

“Pointed reasoning without doubt. How
else can I serve you, senorita?”

“ By giving me the permit for myself and a
padre to visit the Moro.”

“ Ah, yes I will order it at once,” and calling
to a slave, dressed in muslin trowsers and jack-
et, he bade him summon his aide-de-camp.

The same officer who had ushered Rena into
the presence of the Governor-General at once

appeared.

“ Senor Rafael, bid my secretary write a

rmit for the Senorita de Silva to visit the

oro, accompanied by one or more friends, for
the purpose of seeing the pirates just incarce-
rated there.”

The oflicer bowed, and soon returned with the
permit, and placed a gold inkstand, and uill

n beside the Governor, who at once attac ed

is name to the paper.

Thanking him, Rena arose and departed from
the Palacw, and entering her valance, drove
rapidly away into the heart of the city.

An hour after the same volante rolled beneath
the massive gateway of the Castle E1 Moro, and
drew up in front of the commandant’s quarters.

From the vehicle descended a padre of the
monkish order and the Senorita de Silva.

Don Fernando Miguel, Colonel-Commandant
of the Moro, caught sight of the fair form, as he
was just entering his quarters, and came hastily
forward.

“Ah! the Senorita de Silva!
lady.”

He bowed low before the beauty and heiress,
for he was a bachelor under forty, handsome
End a marrying man, if—he could marry a for-

une.

Rena bestowed upon the handsome Spaniard
her sweetest smile, and said, in her most dulcet
tones:

“Senor colonel, I have come to see one of
your risoners—”

“ ould that I were he, lady, be he whom he
ma 1” gallantly said the commandant.

‘ I thank you, senor; but as this man dies to-
morrow it would not be fleasant to change

laces "with him. I refer to erle, the pirate of-
cer—

“ Ah, the mutineer!”

“The same senor; he saved me from a sad
fate once, and in his distress I have come with a
holy‘fadre to cheer him by a few words.”

‘ our bright eyes, Senorita De Silva, would
unlock my lowest dungeon, and though against
orders—”

“ But I have here the permit I received from
the hand of the Governor-General himself.”

“Ah, I had hoped you felt that with me I
needed no order, senorita; I will send the guard
after the—”

“ Pardon, senor, I prefer to see him in his cell.
I have a curiosity to behold the interior of this
gloomi old pile Ah! what troops of hosts
must t pong thede corridors at night,” an Rena
shuddered.

Callinga soldier the commandant bade him
conduct the maiden and padre to the cells of
the mutineers, for he felt hat his presence was
milli- . h .inte ' hi 1 d

on mm c passages, g com an
forebodingfi, down stone stairways a far
from the ght of da , the guide ed the we ,
until they came to a arge room on the right.

“ This is the d-room, lady; we will find
here the jailer c this tier of cells, ’ and the sol-
dier, excusing himself, soon returned with an
old man, bearded and stem.

“ Pedro, the senorita has orders from the com-
mandant to you.

“ Thy servant, lady ” and the old jailer bowed.
“I would see Merle the Mutineer,” quietl
said Rena, shuddering at the dismal surroun -

in with which she was encom .

ilently the old man led the way along a nar-
row passage, stcpped at an iron door, and
{sling a key from his belt placed it in the
oc .

There was a dim light within the cell—not
from the light of day, ut from a lamp swing-
ln in the .

ithin, a tall form sat upon a low couch, his
face buried in his hands; but at the grating of
the he in the lock he looked up.

fiuic y, as his eyes fell upon Rena, he sprung
to is feet.

"You here. lady, here in this—I almost said
hell on earth?” and there was a bitterness in the
tones “pf the voice that bespoke a heart deeply
mov , .

“ Yes; you served me once, and I have come
to cheer your last hours on earth. Jailer, I will
call you when I need you,” and a Saree of gold
was thrust into the hand of the 01 man. .

A gleam of joy flashed in his eyes, and he said,
as he turned away:

Your slave,

“I will be with u call, lady.”
As soon as he had one Rena closed the door
and turned the key the lock: then she con-

fronted the prisoner, upon whose pale face the
dim light, penetrating the iron grating of the
door, rested.
“Senor, I begged for your life, but it was
 arid tomorrow at sunset you are doom-
16.

 

“ So be it, lady; I do not fear death,” calmly
said Merle.

“ But you must not die, for I am determined
to save you.”

“ No, lady, you must not get yourself into
trouble on m account.”

“ Listen, nor Merle since you saved my
honor, nay. my life, for I would have died ere I
became the bride of that vile man—”

“Pardon. senorita,” and Merle spoke in the
pure Castilian tongue. “ Pardon, senorita, you
exaggerate the danger you were in, for no harm
woul have befallen you, u u my honor; we
captured our vessel, and t e men demanded
that you s ould be held for ransom, for some of
them knew the wealth of your family.

“To this demand Captain Freelance demur-
red, until he saw that trouble would follow,
and then he said he would hold you, and the
cabin was to be ke t inviolate to you, as long as
you remained on t e schooner.

“ But I, who told you that the chief said you
should remain, was moved by your piteous face,
and demanded your release of Captain Free-
lance, by the love he held for me.

“ He yielded, lady, yin from his own treas-
ure box, the ransom eman ed by the crew, and
you sailed in the same vessel that had brought

ou from Spain. No, no, lady, Captain Free-
ance never wron ed a woman, buccaneer
though he was; he risked his life in the search
for gold for which he did not care; but he was
incapable of a mean action; he was a free-rover
by force of circumstances, and for love of the
wild life of danger, he led it; had you seen
him you would have known it to be so, but he
was wounded when your vessel was taken, and
his first oflicer was in command.”

Merle spoke with warm feeling in defense of
his dead chief and father, and Rena believed his
words, and replied:

“ I am glad to know that Freelance was not
as black as he was painted; still. you served me,
and I have come to save your life, senor.”

“ How, lady, ma I ask?” '

“This holy men is my friend—nay, I may
as well tell all—he was my mother’s lover, but,
when he found she did not return his love, he
left the world for the seclusion of the church,
an]? he is willing to serve me for my mother’s
sa e.

“ And for your own, daughter,” said the
monk, in deep, et not unmusical tones.

“Thanks, 0 y father, I feel that you will
serve me, for you have proven it in coming
here.”

“ Senor,” and she again turned to Merle;
“ Senor, you are about the hight, and size, of the
padre here, and it is m wish that you exchange
clothing with him an leave these walls with
me, for none will detect your (1‘ ise.”

“ And leave him here to suffer when the cheat
is known?

“Lady, ou mistake me,” and Merle spoke
with oflen ed pride.

“Na , listen, no harm will befall the holy
father. ’

“ Lady, I know well the Governor-General—
the padre would not be protected by his sacred
position.”
ha“ Argegficang,(’i’isailid the monk threw

c isccw eac a' a emanl
intelligent tacé. p mg pal ’ y’

“Senor Americana, years ago one of our
countrymen saved my hfe in Spain, when was
attacked one night by an assassin.

“ That debt is unpaid, and I wish to serve you
that I may owe no man anything; also, I would
serve this maiden and when she came to me to-
day and pr her plan I willingly consented
to it, for I c not like to see an man die, es-

gacially one who has in his cart, and only
l 03 knows what has ven you to the life you
ea .

The monk spoke impressively, and Merle
quickly rejoined:

“ I am no pirate, as I could prove, were we
sent home to be tried; nor, in the strict letter
of the law, am I a mutiueer. Listen and I will
prove that I am not the heinous criminal men
call me.”

In a few earnest words Merle told the story
of his life, excepting the fact that he was the
son of Freelance the Buccaneer, and the monk
and the maiden listened, well knowing that he
spoke the truth.

“Senor, you have been the toy of circum-
stances. and you were not intended to die as a

felon. Here take my priestly robes and leave
this dismal ace.”
“ No, I w not escape while another suffers.”

“Senor. I will not suffer: before I am dis-
covered to be other than yourself, the senorita
will see the Governor-General and tonight I
will be secretly led from this .”

Merle shook his head dubiously.

“Senor, I am more than I seem—I tell you no
harm shall befall rue.”

h A n Marie’s answer was a shake of the
ea .

“ Senor, I am a monk, es; but I am also the
brother 0 the Governor- meral of Cuba.”

The p ner started, and Rena said uickl :

“ Now, senor, that you know the ho y fat er

will be safe, you will not refuse my appeal?”
e

“Yes, lady; I will not escape an ave one

 

v; 3.3:;

.tr.;_gi~:«~»

_ t..';:.."_"‘

 

u

Merle, The Mutineer.

 

 

 

of the brave men who are my fellow-prisoners
here to die.”

Both Rena and the monk saw that Merle was
determined, and they turned sadly away.

CHAPTER XXIV.
A WOMAN’S PLOT.

As if wholly out of patience with Merle’s re-
fusal to fly from his fate, Rena De Silva and the
monk turned from the cell; but outside in the
passageway they halted, and held a conversa-
tion in a low tone, and in the Italian tongue,
fearing some eavesdropper might be near, for
Spanish walls are certainly blessed with ears.

“ It is the only chance to save him, and a des-
perate one; we will see what we can do,” said
Rena. and turning to the prisoner, she con-
tinned:

“ Be hopeful, senor; we are still your friends.
We will see you again.”

Callin the old jailer, who had been enga ed
in the ( elightful em loyment of counting iii!
gold, the monk and t e maiden retraced their
way to the guard-room, where they were met
byhtgie soldier, who guided them back to day-

 

“ Well, senorita, you saw the mutineer?” ask-
ed the colonel commandant.

“ Thank you, yes, senor, and I am coming
again to see him; I do hope the Governor-Gen-
eral will spare his life.”

“It is worth bei a pirate to excite your
sympathy, fair senorita.”

“Always given to pretty speeches, senor
colonel; by the way, have you orders yet re-
garding the execution of these men?”

“ Yes, senorita, I just received them from the
Paloma—they die te-inormw evenin at sunset
and the marines of your noble fa er’s vessel
areto be their executioners, in honor of the
cruiser having captured them.”

“ A public execution, senor?”

“Oh, yes, lady—we dare not cheat the Ha-
vanese out of the snow.”

“ Thank you, colonel; be good enough to give
orders for mine and the padre’s return to the
cells of the prisoners, please.”

“I will, lady.”

“ And, senor colonel, dine with my father and
myself, on board ship, on the day after to-mor-
morrow.”

“With pleasure, senorita,” said the delighted
oflieer.

“ You are a great sailor, senorita; you spend
half of your time on the cruiser, though you
have the handsomest home in Havana.”

“Y I love blue water, senor commandant.
Remem r your eggagement. Adios.”

The volante roll awa , and Rena' said:

“ I have now all the in ormation desired, and
we must work at once on our plan. You sa
the schooner lies right under the cliff, padre ’

“Yes, I_observed it there in my early walk
this morning; it is most hazardous indeed, yet
it is the only chance.”

“A desperate one; but any chance is better
than none; did you tell the coachman where to
drive?”

“ 1 did.”

In half an hour the vehicle drew up on the
,shore, and op to a little indenture of the land,
where sever vessels were at anchor.

“That is the vessel I referred to, daughter,”
and the dre pointed to a oeful schooner-
yacht, lyin a cable’s length £31m the shore.

“ It has t 6 American flag, flying—that is in
ou‘i: gagor.”

opeso— Ah my man, do oubelo on

yonder yacht?” and the monk tiSi’rned tonagne~

go that approached, and who was attired in a
ue sailor suit and tarpanlin.

It was no other than Dave, and a devout
Catholic—as are many of the colored race on the
Gulf shores. He turned and crossed himself
with one hand, at sight of the in'onk, while he
saluted Rena politely with the other.

By adroit ' g
Dave what ha brought the yacht to Havana,
and that Captain Grenville and. the ladies were
then in the cit. at a hotel, awaiting the arrival
of the vessels t at had been sent in pursuit of
the mutineers.

To her joy also, Rena learned that Dave was
a true friend of Merle, for he bitterly denounced
Wilber Sebastian.

“You would do much to serve your young
master, then?” asked Rena.

“1 risk dis ole head 0’ mine, missy, to sabe
one ob my massas,and I would do ittosabe
mama Merle.” .

Rena turned to the padre, who did not speak
En lish, and interpreted all that had been said,
am? the two conversed Simmer for “Vhlle-

Then Rena spoke a am to Dave:

“ You say that yac t belongs to your young
were” . w

‘ t o, miss ac .

“ If he were& board it sudden”, 811d tell you
to put to sea, what would. you do ’

“ Obey him, missy! WISh'be tIY
say he is to be shooted, an 1 pet lef’ de hotel

whar am massa, an’ he mighty mad kase de ‘

Gub’nor-Gin’ral say he won’t wait for do skun-

ner to come back, but intends to hab massa. ‘

Merle an’ de oder gemmans all shouted."
“ He may, and he may not; but you say noth-

uestionin , Rena learned from i

me; but dey 

inlg’pf our talk, and retiu'n on board your ves-
se

“ Yas, missy.”

“Have the cable read to slip, and the sails
alert to-morrow—nay, all the time. Is the yacht
a fast sailor?”

“Jist look at her, missy,” and Dave pointed
with conscious pride to the beautiful vessel.

“ How many for a crew have ou?”

“ Dere’s one nice young white man, Mister
Ainslie, de mate, an’ me, an’ half a dozen nig-

ers. ’
“ All of them true to your young master?”

“De niggers is, missy; guess de mate would
be, too.”

“Very well, here. is a little present for you.
Remember, be on the watch,” and slipping sev-
eral pieces of old into Dave’s honest palm, the
. maiden bade tfie coachmau drive down to the
pier, in front of which lay her father’s vessel.

rowed on board the cruiser, the padre awaiting
ashore in the volante for her.

“ Is my father on board, senor?” she asked of
the officer who came after her in the boat.

“ He is not, senorita.”

“ And the senor, Capitan Angelos?”

“ He is, lady.”

“ Bid him come to me in the cabin, please.”

In a few moments the officer sent for, a cap-
tain of marines, entered, and found the maiden
pacing the cabin nervously; her face was e,
eigce ting two red spots that burned upon either
c ee .
i He was a young man, under thirty, and with
‘ a tall, elegant form.
l His face was very dark, handsome and full of
} character.
l

 

A dashing, splendid fellow, was Andrea An- ,

elos, and one who had won his rank by gal-
l ntry, for he was a Cuban, and not a S niard,
! and u n that score Captain de Silva ad oh—
i jecte to him as a suitor for his daughter’s hand.
3 As for Rena, she had shown him no more refer-
‘ ence than she had a hundred others, an upon
his offering himself, had refused him.

“Be seated, Senor Capitan.”

“ Not while you stand, senorita.”

Rena threw herself into an easy-chair, and
the oung officer followed her example.

you loved me?” and the maiden's face new
crimsoned.
“ told but the truth, senorita.”
“And now, senor?”
The officer seemed surprised; but he answered:
“Time has but added to my love for you,
senor-ita.”
“Will you prove your love for me, Andrea
An‘gelos?’
‘ A , lady, that will I,” was the eager re-

sponse.

“ You are honored, I believe, by being select—
ed to execute the mutineers, on tomorrow after-
noon ?”

“I am, senorita.”

“The place of execution is the plateau outside
of the city walls, and fronting on the sea 3”

“It is, lady.”

you do as I ask you,
wife whenever you name the da .”

 

Name it for I consent.”
Rena be Silva leaned forward and whispered

to the young oflicer a hold

for the esca of Merle, the

utineer.

surprised but delighted o cer.
“ And you have promised; Senor Angelos?”

shoreward, a
muttered :

ble irl that she is!”

even happier:

be at bound by an engagement.”
6 padre was

the Moro.

within.

 

er, and he was absent an
time Rena awaited him in the carriage. listen-

on the coachman and came out.
“ I have given the poor men what consolation
I could, daughter.”

ready to run up in an instant, and be on the ‘

Here Rena alighted, signaled a boat, and was a

: left open, for here were

“ nor, you once did me the honor of saying 

“ New, Andrea Angelos, listen to me, and if
promise to become your

Andrea Ange os sprung to his cat in delighted
astonishment. '
“Hear me. If you refuse, swear that ou

will not betray me in anything that I may 0.”
“I swear it, lady; how can I serve you?

 

lan she had formed

“If that ails, he is lost "she said to the now

“ I have by the sainted irginl”
“Then I s all keep my promise and become
your wife. Now see me to my boat.”

The young oflicer escorted the maiden to the
waiting barge and raised his hat as she rowed
happy look upon his face, as he

“ I would risk ten times as much for her, no-

ad he heard the muttered words of Rena, as
she left the vessel’g side, he would have been

“ It is no concession on m part to marry him,
for I have loved him from he first time we met,
and I only refused him because I did not wish to

 

. patient! awaiting her, and
entering the vehic e it re ed off again toward

Driving through the gateway the padre
sprung from the volante, leaving the maiden

The permit of the Governor-General gained
him at once permission to again visit the prison- '
our, during which

ing to the complimentary discourse of the colo-
ne commandant, who spied the De Silva livery

It was the doc voice of the padre behind the
commandant, w o seemed reluctant that the
{ioly father’s spiritual advice had not continued

on er.

“ ou saw him?” was the maiden’s eager
question as the drove awa .

“Yes, and to d him our p an.”

“ Burma! and the others é”

“ I visited the cell of each of the condemned,

' daughter, and they all know what to expect.”

“Oh! how I thunk you, and I will give to
your Order a handsome golden souvenir. I do
trust all may go well now.”

“ I hope so, daughter. The hour will be in
their favor.”

“ Immense] y; what strange feeling caused me
to beg the Governor-General for a respite until
sunset I cannot understand; I wanted to gain

. time, I suppose, for I had no other motive
i though be suspected me of having. Again let
 me t

ank you, and here I will leave you, and
my carriage can drive you back to the monas-
tery. Adios.”

“The maiden left the vehicle at the water’s

T edge, and the riest was driven to his gloomy

home in the a es of a monastery.
CHAPTER XXV.
THE HAVANESE SURPRISED.

IT was toward evenin , of the day appointed
for the execution of Mer e the Mutineer, and his
followers, and a rfect stream of eager hu—
manity was flowing out of the city toward the
place where the outlaws were to die.

Two hours before the time appointed, the
level, green plateau, overhanging the outer har-
bor was thronged with a curious crowd, who

 

. could only have their appetites satiatedby the

death of the pirates, for, like the Parisians, the
Havanese enjoy a little blood-letting, especially
if it tends toward the horrible.

A hollow space, a hundred yards square, was
guarded by lines of soldierg', the sea side being

t e doomed men to
stand to meet their death.

At length, as the sun’s shadows grew longer
and longer, the muffled roll of a drum and shrill
notes of a fife were heard.

Nearer and nearer it came, and louder and

 lender the music sounded, peeling forth in a

esently the head of the column came in
sight ascending the hill—a squad of cavalry
With an officer in brilliant uniform at their
head. Then followed the Governor-General,
mounted and surrounded by his brilliant and
numerous staff, and behind these came a bat-
talion of marines marching in hollow square
and in their midst were the doomed men.

At the head of his marines was the Senor Cap-
itan, Andrea An elos, a little pale mayhap, but
ever inch the so dier.

Be ' d there came a number of citizens, on
horseback and in car ‘ the aristocrac of
the city, for aristocrats ove to see executions
as well as do the oi polloi.

Among these vehicles were two, that may be
selectedas containing rsonages known to the
reader, although the c osed curtains hid the oc-
cu ts from the view of the masses.

e first, with the livery of the De Silvas dis-
placed for a lain suit, which the coachman
wore, contain Rena De Silva—white, nervous,
hoEeful in her looks, yet dreadiiilg.

y her side rode her father. e disliked pub-
licity at executions, and only attended because
he knew the Governor-General would expect it,
and his daughter had urged it.

Behind the De Silva coach came another car-

' the curtains closed.

e occupants of this vehicle were three in
number—a gentleman and two ladieS' none
other than Captain Arthur Grenville, 1Estelle
and Mildred.

These three were dreadfully pale, and Mil-
dred’s lips quivered with anguish, while she
never took her eyes 03 the tall form walking so
bravely in front of his men—the man upon whom
every eye was turned, but who seemed almost
unconscious of his being the object of general
attention. _

Perfectly calm, with steady steg, upright
mien, and fearless face, 11 n w ich t ere was a
slight glow, walked Mer the Mutineer, wm-
ning the admiration of all who saw him thus
marchin to hisdoom. '

Behin him came his men, forty-six in num-
ber, and with a bold front and  flash of
the eyes, for men condemned to .

“ Caramba ! as cool as icebergs—all of them.”

Such was tfie gniversal opinion floating upon
ever li oft e ensecrow

“Mildred, let me see that note again,” and

9 Arthur Grenville, holding forth his hand,_as the
. plateau of execution came in view received a
; crumpled pa r, which Mildred had

’ her tightly c enched fist.

crushed in

“ It certainl reads in such a way as to give
us ho ; had not the ht so I should never
have gagged you and stelle hither, said Cap-
tain Grenville.

“ Read it again, please,” asked Mildred, faint
l .
yOpening again the paper he read aloud:

“ Would the Americmws, who hold a deep interest
in him that is called Merle the Mutineer, witness a

g.“-.,.. _.

m. -.... -..4. ._

W, <-»_..M.~“- .u.. a“...

 

 

 

.<‘.“., a...» g

20

Merle, The Mutineer.

 

scene that will bring joy to their hearts. let them at.
tend the execution, appointed to take place at sunset
to-da‘y.

“ hen entreaties failed to move the Governor-
Gcneral to pardon a plot was entered upon to : :tvc,

which, even though with desperate risks, Lids fair to i

meet success.
"A FRIEND or MERLE 'ru': Mi'rixnsn.“

“ It is written in a bold hand, and I hrpc it is
truthful,” said the captain.

“ Might it not be written by some one who
was cruel enough to wish us to be here to wit-
ness the execution?” asked Estelle.

“No, I hardly think human nature can l 6 so ,

fallen as that. It was left 1) a priest at the ho-
tel, the waiter said who han ed it to me.

“ Wh any one in Havana should wish to save
Merle, cannot understand, for I know of no
friends he has here excepting ourselves.

“If guilty of the charges made against him,
and I admit appearances condemn him, much as
I love him I would not stand between him and

unishment; but I confess I do not like this

igh—handed act of the Governor-General, who
would not listen to me when I requested that
the prisoners be held to await the action of the
United States, and the Defigtiy Consul here, in
the absence of the Consul, not the pluck to
demand it. ”

“ What excuse does the Governor-General
give Arthur?” asked Estelle.

“ That they are pirates; took a Spanish vessel
incluban waters, and hence are not entitled to a

ma .

“There is the place of execution—0h, God!

mg heart will break!” cried Mildred.

lowly, like the march of soldiers to the grave,
moved the column now, the music breathing
forth a plaintive requiem.

Nearer and nearer they approached the hol-
low square, the dense masses of humanity open-
ing to let the lproceion pass, and a breathless
silence over al .

Arriving at the designated spot the column
came to a halt, and the marine guard was
marched out of the line, the doomed men with-
in the human and solid wall.

Halting his men, Captain Angelos was about

to give the order to the condemned mutineers to E

march into position, when Merle, saluting him,
and with a ringing voice, heard by all, com-
manded his crew to take their stands on the
death-line.

“Santissima Maria! what splendid pluck
that young buccaneer has ” cried the Governor-
General to Don Fernando Miguel, the command-
ant of El Moro. _

“Magnificent! and his example makes his
men show almost equal nerve, your Excellency,”
was the reply.

As the men marched to the death-line, some
twenty ces from the clifll, which overhung the
harbor, erle glanced quickly around him—to
seaward, toward the city, down upon the har-
bor, and then one swee in glance at the im-
mense sea of faces, an t 6 wall of soldiery
keepin back the curious, eager crowd.

As t e marines faced the long, single line of
doomed men, Merle ste forward, and again
salutin Ca tain Ange 0s, took his
the rig t 0 his crew, while in aloud voice he
cried:

“ We are ready, senor!”

Not a sound was now heard, in all that vast
multitude; eve man and woman felt their
hearts stand stil in expectancy, and the deep
roll of the muffled drums made them start.

“Attention, battalion!”

The command was in the ringing voice of
Andrea Angelos, addressing his two hundred
marines, honored by their selection as the exe—
cutioners.

As they came to “ attention ” another order
was heard; but not in Spanis , and it thrilled
throu 11 every heart. as in ringing tones Merle,
the utineer commanded:

“Ready, all! For your lives follow me!”

Then, With a few might bounds, the brave
man lea clear of the c ifl', and down, down
he wen , sheer forty feet into the sea, while
above him the air was filled with flyin forms,
in: his whole crew followed him overt e dizzy

g it.

Above them resounded wild yells of alarm,
the shouts of ofllcers to their men, and then the
rapid and scatterin rattle of musketry as the
marines poured in t eir fire.

But eve man of the mutineer crew passed
over the cl alive though a few, losing their
presence of mind, fell headlong into the water
and were stunned.

Coming to the surface, Mtg-(going down doe ,
Merle struck out boldly tow his own beau i-
ful yacht, that was lying at anchor not half a
cable’s length from him and as his men arose
they quic ly followed im, several of whom,
ungble to swim, were supported by their com-
ra es.

There seemed a show of resistance on the
vacht; but a dozen men leaped upon it and

Merton Ainslie and his black crew were riven l

pellmell into the cabin and locked in. not at all
unwilling prisoners, for Dave had told the mate
and his companions “ somet’in’ mighty fine was
goin’ for happen.” .

One glance at the cliff, as his men sprung to

position at I

 

the sails, and Merle saw it crowded with a
wildly excited crowd, while upon the deck and
water sputtered the bullets of the infuriated
Spanish soldiery, whose very excitement caused
them to fire at random.

Two minutes after they struck the water the
greater part of the bold fugitives, encoura ed
by the voice of Merle, had reached the yac t,
the cable was slipped, the sails let fall, and the
swift vessel forged ahead just as the last disk of
the sun disappeared beyond the horizon.

“ How many, Buntline!” called out Merle, as
he took the helm and headed for the open sea.

“Thirty, sir.”

“Sixteen gone! thank Heaven there are no
more. If the muskets of the marines had been
loaded with ball, not half of us would have
reached the acht.

“Hal old oro, we have to run our gantlet
now! Never mind, we will do it, or you can-
not reach us.”

And the fleet vessel glided swiftly out to sea,
under clouds of canvas, leaving behind her, a
scene of the wildest excitement the surprised
Havanese had ever known. ‘

So t was the confusion that it was some
time fore order could be formed out of chaos,
and officers dispatched to the harbor, to order
ever armed vessel there in ursuit.

“ h, senor! will ycu kin 1y give me a seatin
1your carriage? My father, ‘aptain De Silva,

as driven ofl without me to go in pursuit of
the mutineers.”

It was Rena De Silva that spoke, and she ad-
dressed Arthur Grenville: but she did not tell
him that she had purposely left her carriage
that she might thus meet the American frien s
of Merle.

“Certainly, senorita! I observed you in the
carriage just in advance of us. I have a seat at
your isposal,” and he offered the maiden his
arm and led her to his carriage, where, asking
her name, he presented her to his wife and to
Mildred.

“Oh, sir, what of him?” cried Mildred, her
hands clasped and outstretched toward him.

“He is safe, and fully half his men escaped
with him.”

“Are you certain he was not hurt?”

“ If you mean the leader, senorita, I saw him
distinctly with my glass; he seemed unharmed;
but whats daring esca !” said Rena, with a
look of admiration at M1ldred’s beautiful face.

“ Thank God!” and the maiden sunk back on
her seat and covered her face with her hands,
while Arthur Grenville, replying to Rena, said:

“It was a most marvelous escape indeed.
They deserve to elude their pursuers and doubt-
less will. Where can I drive you, senorita?”

The senorita gave the address of her home,
and there Captain Grenville left her, she thank-
ing)him most warmly for his kindness to her.

I‘Opplfég Estelle and Mildred at the hotel,
Captain renville drove rapidly down to the
harbor, for he was anxious to see how quickly

ursuit would be made, and he sincerely he
that the yacht would escape, as Mildred’s strong
, faith in Merle had caused him to think him
1 less in the wrong than Wilber Sebastian had
re resented.
! t was late when he returned to the hotel, but
! he found Mildred and Estelle awaiting him.
i “Tell me, please tell me the result,” cried
l Mildred, anxious] .
1 “Most favorab e, and remarkable! First to

 

the favorable art—the yacht has two hours’

start of her ursuers, five in number, and
they will have to at out of the harbor, which
gives her another great advantage, while the
night has come up cloud ,is very dark and
Merle is sailor enou h, wit all this in his favor,
to elude the whole punish fleet.”

“ Heaven, I thank thee!” cried Mildred, while
Estelle bit her lip with a nt vexation.

“ Now to the remarks e part. A boat from
' the yacht came in while I was at the pier.”

“ A boat!” exclaimed Mildred and Estelle in
a breath.

“ Yes, and it contained none other than our
faithful Dave, who told me he knew of the in-
tended escape, because Merle had powerful
friends at work for him, and who had come
down to the beach, examined the position of
the yacht, and told him to have her read to
sail at a moment’s notice. This is all that ave
knew, or at least would tell me.”

over the cliff?”

“ Yes, and when fairly under way Merle or-
dered Dave into the gig, told him to row back
to Havana, and tell me that Merton Ainslie
should return with the yacht within two weeks’
time. To you, Mildred, he sent word not to
lose trust in him, for all would yet come well.”

“ I believe it! I know it, Captain Grenvxlle,
and. like Merle, I will bide my time.”

His promise to captain Grenville Merle faith-
fully kept, for ere the two weeks had assed,
‘ Merton Ainslie returned in the yacht, aving

landed the daring fugitives at a certain point on

the Mexican coast, they having successfully
l eluded their pursuers.

The next day the little yacht sailed fdr home;

but Mildred’s face no longer wore the haggard,

l anxious look that had restrd there of late, for

 

“But he was on board when Merle sprung I

Merton Ainslie had brought her a letter from ‘

Merle, telling her that ere many days he Would
be with her and to judge him not until she
heard all. E :
“ Man proposes—
God disposes.”

 

CHAPTER XXVI.
A STARTLING RENCOUNTER.

WHEN the morning broke, following the dis-
appointment to the Havanese, in missing' the
execution, the little yacht, loaded deep with the
large crew she bore, was bounding along, many
leagues from the un-guarded harbor from
which it had taken 'ght.

At the helm stood the daring leader, a mere
boy in years, yet a. man with few equals.

Only a few days before his face had been
bright with ambitious hope, and as calm as a
cloudless sky, for the future was opening to him
on his favorite field, the sea, and he felt that he
might yet win a name famous among his fellow
men.

A short week, and a name had been won; but
ah! how different from his hopes.

Now he was branded as a mutineer, a deserter
from the navy, and even the name of pirate was
hurled upon him, and he was a fugitive.”

Had he been alone he would have faced the
, conseqllliences without fear; but these men were
‘ under is protection, those who had rebelled on
l his account and the die was cast that bound his
, fortune with those brave fellows, for he would
; not desert them; hence he made no lea for him-
, self, and haughtily refused to fly, w en freedom
, was offered to him, unless his companions went

with him. I

The good padre, who had gone to each man
' in his cell, had told him, when he made known
{ the plan of escape, desperate as it was, but the
only one, how their chief had refused to desert
“ them, and their love for him was riveted with
, links that could never be broken—they would
' follow him to the utmost ends of the earth,
‘ through all dan ers that mi ht beset them.
No word h he held w th them, when led
! from their cells in the gloomy Moro; only a
glance into each stern face, as he walked down
he line, and what they saw in his fearless eyes
ve them ho ,and even when facing their
00m, they ha patiently awaited his command.
' Each knew, for his eyes showed him all, the
desperate chances for escape; but before them
. lay certain death, only a few seconds removed,
and over the cliff down into the dark waters :1
, hope of life confronted them, and the rea er
has seen how they faced the alternative, not a
i man shrinking from the dizzy leap.
! True, 9. third of their number had gone to
their death in the attempt, and a dozen of those
who had reached the yacht were wounded,
1 some slightly, some painfully, and some mor-
l tally; but a1 had run the same chances, and
the fortunate ones, in bewailing the fate of their
1 comrades, could not but congratulate them—
selves.

Thus, as the lights of Havana w dim in the
distance, and their fleet vessel unded along,
after having set the faithful Dave adrift in the
gig, on- his mission to Arthur Grenville, the

rave seamen formed a line, and marching aft
each grasped, in his turn, the hand of Merle.

No words were spoken, only that silent grasp
of the hand, and it told volumes, far more than
words could have done.

When the morningmlight came, no sail was
visible upon the ho n—the fleet yacht had
either outrun all pursuit, or the ursuers had
gone 03 on another course, and he men who

ad been so near death the day before breathed
freel ,and from their lips burst one long, loud
shou of jo .

But Mar 0 still stood at the helm, pale hag-
gard, and his splendid 6 es filled with a deeper
gloom than had ever fore haunted them
while upon his beardless face rested a. look hard
to fathom. There was a stern threat in it, and
those who saw him felt that a day of reckoning
would come.

The humiliation of the lash had not broken
his roud spirit, and if he suffered in from the
gas es in his flesh, he showed no gn of it; but
calmly attended to his duty, and directed the
destiny of his vessel and those under him.

One reqtliest he had made of his followers, at
the time 8 had left Dave in his boat dancing
astern u on the waters, and that was that not
one of t em should make known to Merton
Ainslie, or the crew of the yacht. a single cir-
. cumstance that had occurred upon the schooner,
and they had promised.

From Merton Ainslie he learned wh the
yacht had come in rsuit—driVen b t e de-
mand, rather than t e request, of Mil red Mon-
teith and from what the young mate told him,
he felt assured that the maiden held suspicion
a inst Wilber Sebastian. '

ow, as he stood at the helm, one of the men
‘ came to him and said:
“Shipmate Jack is in a bad way

 

 

 

l , air, and
! wants to let loose his tongue-tackle with you, if
1 so it lease you.”
‘ “ ack Buntline?”
l “Yes, sir; he was wounded in our little fly,
an’ he seems uncommon bad.”

“I will go at once: Mr. Ainslie, will you

. . M_J. J,”

43w; 1%,

-. 331‘» i

r

 

 

. , :M‘IffiVf '

~' w<¢wa a:

 

Merle, The Mutineer.

21

 

take’the helm? Keep her as she is, east by south-
east.

A moment after Merle stood by the side of
the honest seaman, who had been placed in the

cabin.

“ Well, lad, are you in a bad way?” he asked,
kindly, grasping the hand of the sailor.

“Yes. capt’in, l’in about shippin’ my cable,
sir, an’ I hopes to head straight for the port 0’
Heaven, seein’ as how Capt’in Christ hain’t goin’
for be too hard on a cor salt-water sinner, as
hadn’t had the Gospil log-book read ter him
much, an’ is only a poor sailor.”

“ Jack, 1 hope it is not as bad as that; let me
see your wound 2” and Merle bent over him.

“ It’s utween wind and water, sir, right in my
bread magazine, an’ I know as how I’ve got to
strike my flag on this cruise.”

The wound was through the body, and Merle
felt that the man was already dying, and, while
his voice trembled, he said, in earnest tones:

“That should have struck me, Jack, and not
you for I caused on to suffer as you do.”

“ Now haul in live] , capt’in, on that kind 0’
slack, kase it’s not hittin’ the hull or riggin’ o’
truth. beggin’ yer pardon, sir; but we was ter
be lashe so that every man ’on ther skuiiner
would ha” looked like the stars an’ stripes, sir in
less than a week, ef you hadn’t let fly that
tongue shot at that onhuman brute, as is Capt’in
Sebast’in.”

“ He seemed crazed with his power, Jack, and
I spoke when I could remain silent no longer; I
was not reared in the navy, to keep my tongue
between my teeth, and my eyes closed, while a
cruel commander flayed his crew alive; but that
is past now, and the end has come, and we are
gigitives upon the waters, because I spoke as I

“ You was a man, sir, an’ ou proved it, an’
of I’d ’a’ (had fer it, I wouldn t ha seen you hit
another blow. As twas, ef year’d only said ther
word or back would never ’ seen a scar.”

“I ow it, my faithful friend; but tell me,
is there nothing I can do to cheer your last
hogr’s? for Jack, old fellow, you are near your
en .

“ I know it, capt'in; but I think Ihas left ther
breakers ahind me, fer it looks like plain sailin’
ahead; ther’s moonlight on the waters, an’ ther
Pilot has got me in han’, an’ I’m steerin’ straight
ter port, an’ must drop anchor soon an’ report
ter ther Admiral aloft.”

The man’s mind seemed wanderin for an in-
stant but quickly recovering himse he said:

“ apt’in, you knows, sir, that I was one o’
ther men ther bar as capsized, one evenin’
near your ome, an twice on saved in '
an’ ther life 0’ that Capt’in SeEast’in, an’ it}; 33%
what made him hate you, I’m thinkin’, as or
pring yerself a better sailor then as was ' -
se

“ Now, capt’in, I overheard him lettin’ run his
tongue one night in ther cabin o’ ther skunner
an’ Luiften’t Alden an’ thet blasted pin man—’

“ Surgeon Bethune, Jack?”

“Yes, air, they was all in there tergither an’
grog was so plentiful the’r in’ardg was alladoat,
which made the’r tongues go back an’ fill like a
ship as had no rud or, an’ yarself was ther
inem as the was arter, km yer had not only
gave . ther h e o’ Capt’in Sebast’in, but yer had
cut him out o’ ther beauty as he was headin’ fer,
with a View 0’ splicin’ with her in wedlock, be-
in’ as how her parents had left her more money
then a fieet’s purser has got on pay—day.

“Now you run acrost his bow capt’in, an’
from that day he hated on, as didshis sister too,
kase the grog made himlet out as haw she want-
edter marry youlyemlf an’ wasmadasasea—
cook whenyou loved t’ot clipper.”

“ an this be true, Jacki” ed Merle, with
intense surprise. ,

“It are as e as ther log-book 0’ God, sir,
an’ what is mom she planned with her brother
ter git er out o’ ther way, an’ I heard ther
grog-sac ers say as how they’d make it enter-
tainin’ fer yam]: when the got you in blue
water, an’ of yer oomed back, to t ther purty
clipgr as a consort. it W’n’gdsurp them

‘ Igogs to see therl dy,bein’as howI
couldn’t gi word ter erself, an she was away
from her hpm but writ her a epistle, seein’
as how 1, er ’n me her addrem, for
which 8“ e 1 five dollars 0’ lawful
mom , y the we sailed I writ her ’in, as
I co (1 run aghwart yerself for a tak, an’
that is wthe yacht come to foller in onrwake,
as I been ther o mate toll yer last night,
’cause that leet 9 go is a oncommon saucy
cmrlwhen she tn read fer action, an’ we’d
he; or yach caught ther skunner,

   

then acted as he did; it was to remove him as 3
PW from his path! _

“ That man and myself shall yet meet again,
Joe. .1 have sworni ” _ V

“ I no so an’ of I kin git sleeve 0 _ther Ad-
mi 1 afifft, I’ll cruise down in spear-it hn’ see
yerl tackle him, sir; but my cable s slippin' fast

0
l

 

 

an’ I wishes ter ax yer ef yer’ll bury me decent-
like in deep blue water, an’ when yer is cruisin’
’long quiet with yer pretty consort, will ther,
two 0’ yer some time speak a kind word of old
Jack Buntline, an’ sling a prayer aloft ter ther
Admiral, ter gi’ii me as easy a berth as He can
convenient do, bein’ as how I’m a stranger ter
Him.”

“Jack, Jack, my noble fellow, ou shall never
be forgotten by me, and when strike Wilber
Sebastian I will make the blow stronger for
your sake.”

“I’m oncommon glad ter hear yer say so,
capt’in an’ I’ll make bold ter tell ther Admiral,
through His Son, Capt’n Christ, all I knows
about thet sea-sarpint, Sebastian, so as how he’ll
never git into ther port 0’ Heaven. ’Tain’t right
nohow fer him ter think he kin drap anchor on
t’other side 0’ God’s equator; but in my han’ a
squeeze, cap’in, fer somehow I ' ’t got no
grip now, bein’ as how Death has run me
afoul.”

Grasping the honest hand Merle sat b the
side of the dying hero, listening to his ram ling
talk until his voice grew fainter and fainter,
and, with four words his lips ceased to move,
for upon them Death had placed his great seal.

Those four last words upon the li of Jack
Buntline, and breathed out in a c ear, stern
tone, were:

“ Let fall the anchor!”

True to his promise, Merle had the humble
seaman buried in the deep sea the yacht being
brought to at midnight or the purpose and
the youth reciting the service for the dea over
the body, ere it was launched into the blue
de ths of the Gulf.

few days more and, in the darkness of
night, the acht ran into the harbor of Vera
Cruz, and, idding adieu to Merton Ainslie and
the faithful negro crew, Merle and his followers
went ashore, leaving the fleet vessel to run back

.to Havana as he had promised it Should.

Upon landing in the cit , Merle saw his faith-
ful comrades comfortab y cared for in sailor
boardin -h0uses, and givingtoeach of them a
few dol ars for he had p cnty of money with
him, he be e them farewell, after a few words
of advice, for them to shi on the first outward—
bound vessels on which t ey could et berths,
and, u 11 their arrival in the Uni States to
imm iately communicate with him, by letter
at New Orleans, for it was his intention to
bring charges against Wilber Sebastian, and
then to stand his trial for mutiny upon the high

seas.

Seeking a hotel, which he had noticed on sev-
eral other visits to Vera Cruz, Merle secured
pleasant guarters and, for the first time since
eava ew Orleans in the schooner, threw
him down to find an untroubled rest.

It was late in the day when Merle arose, and
after a substantial breakfas strolled forth for
a walk, and to secure other c othing, for he was
still attired in his uniform as a naval officer.

Having dressed himself in the picturesque suit
of a MeXican ram-hero he went on a voyage of
discover through the town and learned that
Wilber bastian had sailed from Vera Cruz
the day before for Havana, in company with
Elie cutter that had also been sent in pursuit of

1m. .

While he was gleanin these particulars, the
Castle of San Juan de loa thundered a salute
to an armed vessel just coming into the harbor.

“ It is the Isabella, the cruiser of Captain De
Silva; he was close on my wake.

“I must be careful for a few davs.”

. So saying, Merle went to see about the fugi-
tive crew, and place them on their guard, and
found that a number of them had already ship-
ed on vessels bound for the United States, and
the others expected soon to follow.

Warnin them of their dan er if recognized
by any .0 the crew of the sabella, Merle re-

his way to his hotel and sought his room;
but he was anxious to see what was said of him
in the United States, and went out to get a
New Orleans per.
. A vessel ha just arrived, and bringin with
it latetegapers, one of which he secur , and
hesita in the plaza to read the headings, while
a bitter smile crossed his face:

“ MERLE, THE MUTINEER!

“ An American Naval ofilcer Leads a Mutiny on
his Vessel, kills those who oppose
him and turns Pirate.

“ TanMUTImRs Osman A spasm: Vsssnl

“ They are taken b the S nish Sloo
of-waryliuibel11:1I p.

“Tu Govmon-Gmui. Comma Tau 'ro Du!

“Merle, the prote and ado ted son of Cap-
tain Arthur Grenvi e, former]; a distinguished
oflcer of our Navy, has been the perpetrator of
a h-handed outrage upon the high seas.

“ ormerly heutenant under the famous Free—
m, the Buccaneer, though but a boy in years,

“ Senor, that is of too much interest to you‘to
read in public.”

Merle started and turned quickly; in the ab-
sorbing interest of what he read. he had forgot-
ten that lie stood in the public court of the hotel.

 

As his eyes were raised from the paper they
fell upon the handsome face of Andrea Angelos,
the man who had been appointed his execu-
tioner!

 

CHAPTER XXVII.
THE MONTE PRINCE.

UPON recognizing who it was that stood be-
fore him, Merle was astounded, and his first
thought was to strike Captain Angelos to the
earth and then make his escape; but he saw a
kindly look in the Cuban’s face, who, after his
warning, bowed and passed on.

Merle at once sought his room, and throwing
himself into a chair began to meditate as to
what was best to be done, for he felt that it
would soon be known to others that he was in
the hole].

Just then there came a tap upon his door, and,
rising, with his hand upon a pistol, for he was
determined not to be taken without a desperate
resistance, he said, calmly:

“ Come in l”

The door swung on its hinges and the elegant
form and handsome face 0 Captain Angelos
lZero visible; but no Spanish guard followed

in.

“ Enter, senor! In what way can I serve
you?

The Cuban obeyed, turned the key in the lock
and came forward ere he replied:

“ By not being so reckless as to expose your-
self again with Spanish oficers in Vera Cruz on
your track.”

“ You are kind, senor, very kind; why is it 1
do not find in on an enemy?”

“For severa reasons, sir; first, I have heard
the story of your life from the lips of the Senor-
ita De Silva. ’

4 L  I”

“ Yes, she visited you in your cell in the Moro,
and I will be frank with you, and tell you that
she is my promised wife.

“Once you did her a favor, and Rena De Si]-
va is one who would never forget a kindness, or
forgive an injury, and hence it was she tried to
save you from death, when she recognized in
you one who had served her more than words
can express.”

“ The senorita, and you, senor, are kind to
think so; the service I rendered has been repaid
a hundred times over.”

“It was repaid as best the senorita could re-
an it, but she dreaded the risk on ran, senor.

y the Sainted A ostles! but never saw a
holder, braver (1 than your escape. Your
hand, Senor Merle, for mine is offered as man
to man, notwithstanding a few days since I
faced ou as our executioner.”

Mer e read' y grasped the Cuban’s hand, and
said quietly:

“ The senorita ned the escape, and cir-
cumstances aided in carrying it out; now that
all is over it seems very easy of accomplish-
ment.”

“It is modest in you to say so; you had sail
on the acht in two minutes, and gained hours’
start 0 us—that is from the time when we got
to an offing, where we could lay our course as
you did.”

“ And I owe it, in a great measure, to Captain
Andrea Angelos that we esca d; the muskets
of his marines were not loade ?”

“ With ball, no, and I’ll be joked on the poor
marksmapshi of my men; but, let that go;
they did not ow the cheat, for I drew the bul-
let out of every gun myself—hold, senor, I did
it selfishly, I assure you, for the Senorita Rena
beng it of me as a favor to her; how could I
re use?”

“I do not wonder that you would do an -
thing for that noble woman, senor, and I Will
remember her until my life ends: nor will you
be forgotten, Senor Angelos, as I owe much to

on.
y “ The padre told me that the muskets of the
marines were not to be loaded, and in this was
our greatest hope of escape, as it was some time
before the other troops present could be brought
up to fire on us.”
“ With how many men did you escape, senor,

may I ask

“ I reached the yacht with thirty out of fort -
seven, including myself; five, of the y
wounded, have since died—twenty-five of us
landed here.”

“It thrills me to think of it. Now, Senor
Merle, I hope you intend returning to the Um-
ted States to prosecute your commander, for
the Senorita De Silva, as I told you, made me
aware of all that had happened.” '

“Y I intend to bring char esagainst Cap-
tain Se n and I doubt no but that I can
break him of his commission: but then I will
settle with him nally,” and a dangerous
gleam flashed in e er’s e es.

“ He deserves the worst punishment you can
inflict upon him,” and the two were silent for a
moment.

Then Merle asked: .

“Did you come here in search of me and my
men?” .

“Yes, senor: we were in a fog as to which
course you had taken, and Captain De Silva
headed at once to Vera Cruz, though I' do not
tln’nk he was very anxious to overhaul you.”

-. ...n......... I.

H- . 4‘. «may...

a- h.-. v ~

_ alike

2.2,

Merle, “Thanh/lutineer.

 

 

 

“ It was kind of him.”

“ N 0, he remembers your service to his daugh-
ter; but that does not weigh with the other
officers of the Isabella, and you must remain
concealed while we are in port.”

“If captured, you intended demanding us of
the Mexicans?”

“ Yes, senor, and they would be glad to give
you u , believin you to be pirates.

“ I ended am came at once to see if aught
could be ascertained regarding you, and learned
that you had not put into Vera Cruz; but five
minutes after I saw you in the hotel plaza. I
am glad others did not see you too; how are you
registered?”

t_ ”‘ As Don Merlino, ranchero of Corpus Chris-
1.

“Emma! and your disguise beam you out:
but your face and form once seen, senor, are
not soon forgotten, and you must have a care;
also, you have enemies here, for you know
it has been published that you were one of the
lieutenants of Freelance the Buccaneer—the
paper you have there sa s as much—and your
chief was not popula v ' the present Mexican
Government. I =: much discussed by
citizens, and you w , ere, be taken as
a traitor to Mex . .‘ 0: ur doom is
sealed; better leave :4. ‘ u States,”

    
   
   
  
   
        

‘ .v.

  

 

       
  
  
   
  
 
  
  
   
       
    
  
  
    
    
     
   
       
   
   
   
     
    
     
   
   
  
    
   
   
    
   
    
    
    
       
     
    
   
   
           

and the noble-hearted ‘. _ w

“A glass of wine togeth »‘ "' u , s ,
and believe me ever your frien O  “a.”

“ To the noble Senorita De Silva,” i. 

u.

homa e—I owe her more than thanks,
these eye I trust we may meet again.”

A toast to the future was drank in a fu W j‘

bumper, and the two men, so strangely met,
parted, to meet agBin—when, and where?”

For some da s on Merlino, ranchero, from
Corpus Christi, did not leave his rooms at the
hotel, but then he learned from Boots the ser-
vant in attendance on him, that the Isabella had
sailed, as had also two other Spanish cruisers,
that had touched at Vera Cruz in search of the
daring mutineers.

Boots also obtained for Merle the pa ers, as
they arrived from the United States an Hava-
na, and by these he saw how he was looked up-
on at home and abroad.

He also learned that Wilber Sebastian had
been ordered back to the United States.

“Now is my time: Boots, when does the next
packet sail for New Orleans?”

Boots was not certain, but would find out.

“ To-morrow, senor, at turn of tide, which
will be at noon,” was his report.

“Very well, thank you, and seeing that it
was getting late in the evenin , Merle concluded
he would go down to the pub ic cafe for a glass
of wine and cigar before retiring.

As he crossed the hotel plaza, he saw a man
whom he remembered having seen before, the
day of his arrival in Vera Cruz, and who had
then seemed to re ard him attentively.

Entering the ca e be ordered a bott e of wine
and some cigars, and seated himself at a table
to enjoy them.

The man, whom he had before observed, came
leisurely into the saloon, and joined an officer 1
in ggageous uniform at another table. I

‘ aiter, who are those gfintlemen, at the
table opposite i” quietly asked erle.

“The one in uniform, senor, is the Major Vis-
ta] Guarena, the adjutaut of the Castle San
Juan de Uloa !”

“And the other?”

“The caballeror He is Don Felipe Cosala.”

“ His business?”

“ A monte-pla er: caramba ! senor, he is call-
ed the Prince of onte--his luck never fails him.”

Merle gazed beneath his brows at the two
men, impelled by some strange motive to read
their faces.

The one, whom he was confident was watching
him, and whom the waiter had called Don Fe- :
lipe Cosala, the Monte Prince, was a large man
for a Mexican, if Mexican he was.

He was fully six feet in hight, broad-shoulder-
ed, well-dressed as a Mexican gentleman, and
had black hair and 6 es, and a face that was
dark as an Indian’s; t wasa face that Merle
did not like, and which he felt he had somewhere "
seen before, when, or where he could not recall;
it was a face to be feared by men and women

 

l

The other was a young officer, with long black
hair, a restless eye, and dissipated face—other-
wise he would have been handsome.

He was rich] dressed in uniform, and his
rank was that o a major of Mexican artiller .

For some moments the two talked toget er
in a low tone and then the gambler arose and
left the saloon, not even noticing Merle as he
passed out.

“Major Vistal Guarena’s compliments senor,
and begs you will join him in a bottle of wine,” I
and the waiter who had been in attendance upon
the officer stood before Merle.

_ It was his first thought to decline: but some
impulse he could not understand bade him ac-
cept, and he arose and crossed to the table where 1
eat the officer, who bowed litely and said: 3

“I am Vista] Gliarena, gigajor of Artillery,
senor. and I beg, as a stranger in our city, that 4
you join me in a bottle of wine. Whom have I :
the honor of addressing?” ‘

 

 , “ Perhaps, you may conquer the prince, were
a ‘ t

;‘ sum.”

 

“ Don Leon Merlino, a ranchero, senor,”
quietly responded Merle, seating himself at the
table.

After awhile the two arose, having eifloyed a
verv friend] chat together, and the exioan
said, careless y:

“ Must you leave me, senor, or will you ac—
com any me to throw luck in my favor?”

“ hither?” ,

“To a monte saloon. I have lost heavily of ‘
late, inaledictions upon my luck.”

Merle consented, and arm in arm the two
entered one of those Mexican gambling-halls, so
freqluently found in that sunny land.

T e room was passany well filled: but all
present were too busy in tempting the little god 1‘
of Fortune, to particular] notice their entrance, i
though several bowed to t e Mexican, and Merle
overheard one remark:

“ Vista] Guarena lost ten thousand pesos last
night—the prince will t his last dollar.”

A moment after the wo stood b a table be-
fore which set the man whom Mer e had seen in
the cafe—Felipe Cosala.

He nodded to Guarena, glanced at Merle, and
went on with his game.

“That is our prince of gamblers, senor—luck
never fails him, as I know tomy cost, for I have
tried hard to break it without success; do you
play i”

“ It depends upon my humor, senor,” was the
quiet response.

‘

 __. ' y,” was the calm re ly and taking
' In his pocket or e laid them

* ed up with a gleam in his

eye, wh ‘ u y.
“Will th .. , g - one with me?”
it Yes-n ‘ flan
“The stake is . ' W lay for.”
“ Make it what he , "a, >

“One thousand in W

“I am satisfied, was  ' ‘3,
and the game began. Va, , "F...

Don Feli won; but Merle » _
and a sin ost. 

“ on are playin against on  
never fails, senor,’ said Don Fell ,. 
min? 1 nst t a1 ' ‘ j
‘ am ayinga ai a re ession -”'
men call im the If p ga
rejoinder.

All around the table started; Felipe Cosal
was feared by every one who knew him.

Theye ted to seeMerle fall dead in his
tracks for is bold words; but Don Cosala only ,
smiled and the game pro steadily until ,
Merllle had lost every peso he had—five thousand
in a .

“The senor is satisfied, I hope?” said Don
Felige, with a reven ful sneer.

“ h, no, I stake t is against the sum I have
lost and its e ual.”

As he s e Merle took from his fin rthe
gold ban , with its solitaire diamon ——that
which he had taken from the treasure-box of the
schooner, and which had been often worn by
Freelance the Buccaneer.

The eyes of the Monte Prince sparkled; they
were the on] feature of his face that ever
showed any eeling; otherwise the man’s face
seemed cast in bronze.

“It is worth more than that sum, senor,” said
Don Felipe, glancing at the splendid stone.

“ At what do you value it.

“ Twent -five thousand pesos.”

“ We wi I lay for that sum—the ringagainst
the twenty- ve thousand pesos. ”

CHAPTER XXVIII.
masnn.

WHEN Merle, or Don Merlino, as he was call-
ed in Vera Cruz coolly said, in answer to the
remark of the Monte Prince, that he would
play for the value of the rin twenty-five thou—
sand pesos, his words crea the greatest ex-
citement in the saloon or hall, and the players
scattered about, left their games to watch the
fortune of the young stranger.

The Monte Prince at once put the value of the
ring upon the table, and‘the game began and
ended—Merle had again lost.

But his face did not change color; he even
smiled, and said: _

“ Your name is certainly deserved, senor; Will
you lplay again i”

“ orwhat‘stakel”

“An amount you desire to name,” was the
cool re cinder.

“He! that sounds well; you are plucky and
have plenty of nerve,” declared the gambler.

“ I ask for no personal comments. Will you
playI again 7"

1 le swarthy face darkened, and he answered
s ow y:

“I will (play you a game of cards for any
stake you esire.”

“ Agreed. You have there my ring and five
thdusand pesos, won from me—va lle, thirty
thousand; suppose we make it five times that

Winder,
Ii
' sthke,

 

 

Every man drew his breath; the amount was
fabulous to be gambled for.
W' ho was this stranger who had just lost the

 

onte Prince,” was the . "'5": ' u at once, and

sum of thirty thousand pesos and was willing
to risk again, upon the turn of a card, five times
that amount?

Such was the question of many, and Major
Guarena, who had been seen with him, was
asked by numbers who was his friend.

But he knew not and with painful interest he
drew nearer the ta le.

There was now just the shadow of a tremor
in the hands of the Monte Prince as he shuffled
the cards; but his face was calm, his eyes burn-
mg.

As for Merle, he quietly lighted a cigar, and
offered one to the gambler, who refused it;
then he turned to the Mexican officer:

“ Will you smoke, Major (iuarena?” ,

“No. I am too anxiously Witching: the re-
sult of this princely game to be played. for I
su pose you will lay, Cosala?’

‘Of course] e stake is one hundred and
fifty thousand pesos, senor, I believe?”

‘ Yes; more if you like.”

“ Would oblige you if I could, but I can han-
dle just that sum, with a little over for a nest-
e g, if I lose; the bank, here, will back me for
w at I have not on my table.

“What collateral do you offer, for of course
you carry not a fortune like that with you?”

Merle placed his hand in the breast of his
jacket, and, after a moment tossed u n the
table what appeared, at first, to be a andful
of sparks.

But it took the shape of a diamond necklace
and ruby anchor—treasures already seen by the
reader.

Each stone was of immense size and without
a flaw, and the eyes of the Monte Prince spark-
led like fire as he took them in his hand.

“ Is it *our intention to separate these, senor?”

“ No, play them a ainst all you are worthi”

“Their value is far yond—’

“ It matters not; if you win, it is your game;
if you lose, you have lost a fortune,” was the

m rfiply.

The onte Prince simply bowed, and the game
commenced, Merle perfectly cool, in fact ‘in-
different, and his antagonist in the game of
chance growing more nervous as it progressed.

At length the game ended, and a wild shout
brok? f’rpm the spectators—the Monte Prince
': a 03.. ‘

But Merle draw not his winnings toward
is

l . of his jacket.

:u and iron fOI'CG.

followed a shriek of pain, and the
.. 'noe would have sprung from his seat;
b t hand was pinioned to the table by
the u e of a knife thrust through it, and
deep wood.

Bef- arthy face of the Monte Prince
was th g muzzle of a small pistol held
in the h rle, while his deep voice com-
manded :

“Senora, n is a trickster, as I will
prove to y - Guarena. will you kind]
take from the ve, which my knife ho]
on the table t ards secreted there?”

But the Mexi
breathless silence

2 never moved, and a
on all resent, while

the eyes of the Mon = glare like a tiger’s,

and the pinioned ha in its own blood.
“Do you fear to ask, senor?” and

Merle’s eyes flashed - Mexican oficer,

   

who yet stood silent :
of compliance with the

“Senor Vista] Guare
and unworthy of your
in‘dee , stern tones.

, making nosign

    
   
   
    

are a coward,
,” said Merle,

   
     
       
   
   
   
    
    

‘ at, senor? By t ’ ,. you shall
prunive your words,” shou u mean officer,
ously. _
“At any time and pin esire; now
stand aside and let some I :- do as I re-

quest. Will you, senor!

The person addressed was a
some, well—attired. and eviden

Without a word he s .
as directed the Monte »:
move, for he knew that the
driven a knife through his hand
as willingly send a bullet through
he loved i a.

From the sleeve of the bi -. cling
Mexican took outa pack 0 card the
tothe one with which thegame had . ' .

“Senors, youseehowhehasch 110
have played with him?

“In the last game I watched him
for him to deceive me, and I won.

“Now, sir,” and he turned to th
Prince, “ do you see any one among t
with whom you have ever played?”

“ Does that concern you?” asked I
foaming with 'n and fury.

“ So much t at I will send a bulle
your brain if you do not answer,” was
reply.

i Yes.”

“Call each one by name.”

With a muttered malediction the
obeyed, and a score of those present -

lc( out.

“ Name the amount won from th

u n, hand-
va tleman.
and did

rin to
ho 
- on

T , and

    
   
   
  
    
  
 
 
    
     
  
   
  
  
  
  
   
    
  
 
 
  
 
 
  
   
 

hand again went into the!

; .' fly 1; was drawn forth, and there was a.
of light in it as it descended with light-L

 

‘xxl -~Aw>rva - w w,

..._.___ _ _ _____ WA

 

 

  

2m

.. A- ._....__._._.,... mm

23

 

Merle, The Mutineer.

 

 

man,” and Merle pointed toward the young
Mexican who had taken the cards from the
sleeve of the Monte Prince.

"' Three thousand pesos.”

“ Is that correct, senor?"

“ It is,” answered the young Mexican.

“ Do me the kindness to take the amount from
that pile on the table.”

“Good God!” and the Monte Prince spoke in
English, but instantly correcting himself, while
his face flushed, as he saw Merle smile, be con-
tinued in Spanish:

“ Do you mean to restore my winnings to
these men here?”

“ It will take half I have.”

“ I just won all you had; on are a beggar.”

“ I will bleed to death in t e meantime.”

“No; but if you do you will be no loss. Now
you, senor?” and Merle motioned to another
10ser, in his playing with the Monte Prince.

The sum won from him was countexl out, and
thus it went on until all present had received
back their losses.

Then Merle took 11 his anchor and necklace,
replaced the ring on his finger, and put his win-
niii in his pocket.

“ ow go! ’

Quickly he drew the keen blade from the
trembling hand on the table, and pointed to-
ward the door.

With a malediction upon his white lips, and a
deadly glare in his eyes, the Monte Prince arose
from the table and left the hall.

“ \Vatch him, senor; he means you mischief,”
cried a dozen voices.

“ I do not fear him, senores. Now I am at
the service of Ma'or Vistal Guarena,” and
Merle glanced over t e room.

But the Mexican officer was nowhere visible;
he had gone out just before the Monte Prince.

W'ith a bow to those assembled Merle left the
hall and was soon in his rooms at the hotel.

With a stran e look upon his face, he began
to pace to and re, evidently inwardly excited
though-outwardly calm.

After a. while his thoughts found vent in
words, low and earnest:

“ How strange that I should have crossed his
{faith and stranger, that I should have remem-

re his face.

“Had I not met him, I never should have re-
called that fearful night from the past, for it
seemed buried, not even to be exhumed when I
read my poor father’s letter.

“I was but six years old then, yet I am con-
fident he knew me, as I did him; I saw that he
remembered me when I staked the anchor and
necklace.

“ Thanks to in wonderful expertness at
cards, I was enab ed to revenge myself upon
him, and show him to all as a cheat, while he
will bear my mark to his grave.

“ Were it other than his money I would not
take it, for I have as much gold as I care for—-
and that Mexican officer is either in league with
him, or is in his power from some cause. Come
in !” he called out, as a knock came at the door
of his room.

A man entered that was a stranger—a man of
gentlemanly address clad in undress uniform.

“ Pardon, senor; the Senor Don Merlino, I be—
have?”

“I am, senor; how can I serve you?”

“ I come from my friend, Major Vistal Gua-

rena.

“ Ah! a challenge, I presume?”

“Yes, senor; he begs that you meet him for
the insult cast in his teeth.”

“ With pleasure, senor; I caught Major Gua-
rena in evil companycr and was not very choice
in my language. hen does he desire the
meeting?”

“ If you would suggest your friend—”

'f I have no friend in Vera Cruz whom I would
ask to act for me. I will come alone.”

“ Ab?” and the Mexican raised his eyebrows

in surprise, .
“ I hope it Will not inconvenience you, senor,
to tpone the meeting for two weeks. The
major is called at once to the capital and will be
absent that Ian th of time.”

“ Very well am myself going away to-mor-
row, but I will return as soon as possible, and
will let the Major Guarena know 0 my arrival.
Adios, senor.”

The Mexican left the room muttering:

“ A mere boy yet one who knows what he is
abou judging by what Vistal told me of him.

“ y advice, my dear friend Guarena, will be
to let him alone or he may serve you worse
than he did the Monte Prince.”

80 saying, the Mexican beteok himself to his
quarters, while Merle threw himself upon his
bed. and slept until Boots catne to awaken him
and sa that the New Orleans packet would
sail wi in the hour.

When it did sail Merle was a passenger on
board.

 

CHAPTER XXIX.
THE MONTE PRINCE.

VVIIEN the Monte Prince left the gambling-
11311 ho was joined outside the door by Vistal
Guarenu, and the two walked rapidly along to-

 

ggther until they came to the quarters of the
nor Cosala.

“ Pedro, you imp of Satan, run and fetch me
a surgeon—that American doctor who has set-
tled here,” cried Don Felipe, savagely, as he en-
tered his luxurious quarters; and he gave the
Mexican servant a slap in the face with his
bleeding hand.

Pedro uttered a yell of terror, for he had just
been awakened from a sound sleep, in which he
had been having a bad dream—not that he was
afraid of a little blood: oh, no, he had often seen
blood on the Monte Prince before, but it was
from the veins of other ople; the gambler
was considered invulnerab e, and a number had
fallen before his deadly aim and cool hand.

“I am the imp of Satan for I serve you, Don
Felipe!” said Pedro, as he bounded away; but it
was in a voice his master did not hear.

While awaiting the coming of Dr. Henry
Rathbun, formerly a surgeon in the United
States navy, and who had settled in Vera Cruz,
neither Don Felipe nor Major Guarena spoke a
word. The former paced the floor with angry
strides, holding the wrist of his wounded hand
in a vise-like grasp; the latter threw himself
into an cas -chair.

They liar not long to wait, for Pedro returned,
accom nied by a man whose appearance at
Once ( enoted his American origin. There was
nothing striking about him—a plain-looking
man who had taken a fancy to ive in Vera
Cruz.

“Well, senor, who have you for my services
now?” he asked, pleasantly.

] “ Myself,” and the Monte Prince smiled grim-

y.

“ You? Why, I thought you were like Achil-
les, invulnera c?’

“ Like Achilles I have a vulnerable spot, yet
it is not my heel, but my hand,” and he held
forth the wounded member.”

“ By Esculapiusl this was a bad drive; had it
been at your heart it would have gone clean
through.”

“It went clean through orgy hand, as you see,
and two inches into the w en table; the man
that drove it had an iron arm.” '

“True; but I can soon fix you up; you will
have to keep uiet for a while—wear your arm
in asling, and it will give you an interesting
look, as you have lost a great deal of blood.
There, now, how does that feel?” and Dr. Baths
bun completed his work.

“Curse the pain; I don’t mind that; it is the
being beaten at one’s own game. I caughta
Tartar, captain.”

“ 1 expected you would; luck will change,
and I have felt that the sword of Damocles was
han 'ng over on, Don Felipe, upheld by a
sing e hair. W 0 was the man who did it?”

“A ranchero from Corpus Christi, he calls
himself.”

“ Ah! tigeiy’re a bad lot up there. When will
he be buri ”

“ He is not dead.”

“Not dead! you astonish me, senor; a man
wound you that way and still alive?” and the
doctor elevated his voice and eyebrows together.

“ Yes, he won all in money, caught me tin-
gering a secret ack 0 cards, pinned my hand

own to the tab 6, and told me to go! Strange,
wasn’t it?”

“ Marvelous; but now I must go; will drop in
after breakfast to see you again,’ and the doctor
departed, passing another person at the door
just coming in.

“ Well, senores, you sent for me, I believe?”
he said, gayly.

“Yes, Juarez, I wanted you. I wish you to
carry a challenge for me,” said Major Guarena,
addressing the new comer, who was Real Juarez,
a Lieutenant of avalry, and the boon com-

. on of his brother officer and the Monte

ce.

“ Assuredly; and to whom?”

“ To Don Leon Merlino a ranchero from
00 us Christi, and at the Plaza Hotel.”

“ old on! Don’t be in too great a hurry,
for my hand will be in a bad wa for some
days. Tell him, Real, that Major uarena has
to go at once to the city of Mexico on official
buflirégss; willtil'leiturtn i1111 about two weeks, and
w1 en mee in or is insultin Ian e ”
said the Monte Prince. 3 gang ’

“ Si senores; what weapons?” asked Real
Juarez, in the same ga tones he had first used.

“ Not knives, certai y. You area dead—shot,
Guarena?” .

“ Yes, and if I mistake not-his eye, he, too, is
one who never fails.”

:: You”excel as a. swordsman?”

“ Then Juarez must work round to t those
weapons, although he will of course ave the
ch0ice. .Get What time you can, and say the
place Will  .appomted when the major returns.
and drop in in the morning, Juarez, and let us
know the result—say about twelve o’clock; the
ma or will remain with me to-night.”

he Monte Prince seemed to govern the whole
affair; his influence over his companions was
certainly great, and the young lieutenant dash-
ed oit‘ a goblet of aguurdionte and went on his
mission. (is the I'i'flth‘l' tins .~'(*I‘ll.

For some lllUlll('liiL< after his departure no

 

word was spoken, and then Don Felipe said
gruflly:
“ To bed with you. Pedro!”

The Mexican quietly obeyed, and, as he left,
Vistal Guarena burst into a rude laugh.

“ In the Fiend‘s name, what ails you?” and
the Monte Prince turned sava rely upon him.

“ I was laughing at you, am myself, too.”

“ I confess do not see the joke.”

“ It is very plain—the stool-pigeon and the
huntsman both caught.”

“Meaning you for the stool-pigeon, and me
for the huntsman ?” sneered the gambler.

“Of course! I cultivated the pleasant stran-
ger at your suggestion, led him into the net, and
both of us caught a Tartar—you are cursing
now inwardly, and gritting your teeth in
pain, and I am dreading a funeral, with myself
in the leading vehicle, for that man will kill me
if I ever meet him.”

“ Of course he will; swordsman and shot that
I am, I would not dare face him;_he has the
nerve of his father.”

“ His father?”

“ Yes, his father.”

“ \Vhat know you of his father?”

“Much; he is the son of Freelance, the Buc-
cancer.”

“ Impossible!”

“ No more impossible than your being my
son,” sneered the Monte Prince.

“Hush! not so loud. please, for I am not
proud of the relationship,” said the major, in
iusk tones.

“ o more am I; but what you are, boy, you
owe to me.”

“ My being a villain, ted.”

“ Bah! all men are Villains, if on only find
them out; the creed of this worl is that there
is not so much harm in doing wrong, as being
caught at it.”

“ISO it seems; you were caught at it were you
not.

“ Have a care, Vistal Guarena, and don’t
anger iiie; blood is thicker than water, yet it
flows easily,” threatenineg said the Monte
Prince.

“ I observed, to-night. I real] thought
you had no blood in you, but I see was mis-
taken, and it is red, too, like a Christian‘s.”

The Monte Prince made a step toward him,
his hand in his bosom on a knife-hilt; but he
stopfizd with a smile on his face.

‘ h! I am a fool to get angry with you:
you are useful to me.”

“True, I have been made so from the fear
that the world might know you were my fa-
ther!”

“ This is useless talk.”

“ So I perceive; tell me about the son andheir
of that other is man, Freelance, the Bucca-
neer' I never fore suspected you knew him.”

“Yes, I served u n his vessel for years un-
der him; hast hea of Red Manuel, Freelance’s
lieutenant?”

“Yes; I have heard he was such a devil that
even Freelance sentenced him to be hung at the
yard-arm for his cruelties.”

“ You have heard aright, boy; he had a pas-
sion for shedding blood, and he hasn’t yet got-
ten over it. I am Red Manuel.”

“ You! Santissima Maria ! You lie .'”

The Monte Prince smiled pleasantly, and turn-
ing to the table dashed a glass of fiery liquor
down his throat.

“ No, I tell the truth.”

“ Hush! Pedro may hear you.”

Don Felipe quickly erased the room, opened
a door and strode into another apartment.
There lay Pedro fast asleep' he had curiosity,
as has every servant, but he had discretion
with it and preferred sleep to eavesdropping,
where Don Fe 'pe was his master.

“ How slender a thread life hangs on, m son.
Had Pedro been there listening, e woul now
be dead,” and a devilish gleam was in the speak.
er’s eyes.

Major Guarena shuddered in spite of himself, ,
and said, slowly:

“ Did on tel me the truth, padre mine?”

“I did; miname was Manuel Guarena, as

you know; w en I went to buccaneering I left
the latter name to you and became, as soon as
I distinguished in , Manuel. It was
only to please you, my son, that I became Don
Felipe Cosala.”
“ knew you to be a gambler, one who had
neither honor nor mercy, and that the mysteri-
ous death of a traveler, who had stopped at our
home, had caused you to leave the cOImtry; . it
was even whispered that you had taken_w1th
you the dead man’s gold, yet I never believed
you so vile as to be Red Manuel.” '

“No slurs, boy; if I had not left that little
home in Florida. you would not now be the
Mexican, Major Vistal Guarena. No, you would
now be a poor farmer, and perhaps married
to some tow-headed country girl.

“ But my—departure we Will call it, for flight
does not sound dignified—my departure from
home brought success with it, and in our tenth
'eiir I was enabled to bring you to exico, to
)0 reared in a rtspectable family, and my secret
influence made you an ofiiccr in the Mexican
:ii‘iny. where you hold great power as the adju-
tmit of that stone pile of misery, the Castle San

,_._-.-.~. . ..

A- -‘~<9.‘

.‘u

24

Merle; The Mutineer.

 

 

Juan dc Uloa, and are engaged to marry the
rich daughter of the commandant, to in turn
become commandant yourself. Just see what
I have done for you, ungrateful boy that you
are.”

“ The best thing you ever have done for me is
in hiding from the world our kindred to each
other; for that I thank you.”

“ It would not be policy to do otherwise boy.
You are useful to me now, as a stranger; I give
you money to play against me and lose, and your
ill-luck tempts others, whom you drag in to the
sacrifice: for your services I pay you more than
double your pay as an officer, not to speak of
little loans.”

“ Yes, and keep an account of ever ieso, to
make me pay you back when I marry ictorine
Ruidrez.”

“ Your borrowed money only, boy; not your
salary.”

“ Which is, or will be, a considerable sum.”

“Yes; marry sooner, and borrow less fre-
quently.”

“I will have to, now that you are a beggar,”
sneered the son.

“ And you are a liar,” pleasant] retorted the
father. “ In that chest I have fty thousand
pesos, and the match to the ring that Merle

 

Freelance wore to-night,” and a smile unfatho-
mable crossed the cold face of the Monte Prince,
while Major Vista] Guarena gazed upon him as
though he believed him Satan in the disguiw of 1
man. I

 

CHAPTER XXX.
A STORY or CRIME.

“THAT stone seemed priceless; a finer one I
never saw; and you have its mate ?” said Vista] l
Guarena, after a pause of a moment in the con- l
versation.

“Yes, I have its mate,” and crossing the room
he unlocked, by the use of several keys, the iron
chest and took therefrom a band of massive
gold in which was set a single superb diamond.

“Yes, it is exactly alike; it would make a 1

lendid bridal gift for the fair Victorine,” said ‘

istal, avariciously.

“ Do as I tell you in one thing and I will give
it to you.”

“ It’s a bargain; if it’s not blood-letting.”

“ No: your dainty fingers need not be soiled,
and 'our conscience must become like mine.”

“ iod pity me if it did] It is sufficiently elas-
tic now- but, are you not going to retire ?’

“ And leave my guest awake?”

“I will throw myself here on this sofa divan.”

“ Bah] you could not sleep; you are too ner-
vous, but I can drop off into a slumber that a
nursing babe would envy. Steel your muscles,
your nerves, and your brain to your own will,
my son.”

“ You certainly possess wonderful control
over ourself."

“ I is an art, acguired after long study. See
this wounded ban is as steady as a rock,” an
he took it from the silken sling and held it out.

“ I see: it has gotten over its trembling,” said
the son, dry] .

“I admit it; I met more than my match to-
night, though he is but a boy. Then I was ner-
vous at future prospects, for joy unnerves, you
know, at times. ’

“Satan knows what you had to rejoice at; I

t.

“ That will come out in our compact when
you strive for the ring.”

“ Where did you get that ring?”

“ Took it from a woman’s finger.”

“ Without her consent, of course?”

“Yes, she was unconscious; shall I tell you
the story i”

“ (3h yes, let me hear all that is horrible about

on.

The eyes of the Monte Prince glittered like a
snake’s, and lighting a cigar he said, quietly:

“ It was when I was with Freelance: we were
attacked by a brig, one dark night, and it

roved to be a Spanish vessel'of-war, and as we
rded, or rather two-thirds of the crew, for .'
with the balance was left on our own decks: 1
say as the men, led by Freelance, boarded the
brig forward, the Spaniards boarded the schoon-
er aft, and the very Satan was to pay at once.”

“Freelance had his wife on board with him,
wife and her maid, and they were in the cabin,
whither several Spaniards made their way, and
I followed them at once, leaving my men to
heat back those on deck.’ '

“I found the Princess—Freelance had mar-
ried a Persian princess, you know—”

“ No, I don’t know—had he?”

“ Yes, and I found her unconscious with
fright as was her maid also, and the two Span-
iards in possession of the cabin.

“ I shot one of them in the back, and cut the
other down with my cutlass, ere they were
aware of my resence—”

“ Yes you e tostrike in the back I believe,”
said the son, with bitin sarcasm.

“ As you may one ay find out, when you
muse to be longer useful to me.”

“I pray Heaven I ma ever be most useful;
but I retard this ve in resting romance—if i
only knew a novel st, I would give him the

, for me to join him at Vera Cruz.
he recognized some one on board of an American

 

points to work up into a story. Proceed, padre
mine.”

“As the second Spaniard fell I saw upon the
finger of the rincess this ring, and I immediate-
ly rew it o , knowing it would be laid to the
char 6 of the enemy.

“ he ruby anchor you saw last night, and
the diamond necklace, Zulah (that was her
name) also wore, and I strove to take those, too
—the are worth a million, boy.”

“ c more fool you, as a thief, for not taking
them.”

“ I tried to; but the setting was toostrong and
massive to break easily, and the fastening did
not know; but I would have broken them loose
had I not heard rushing feet -on deck, and the
voice of Freelance.”

“ ()h! on feared him, then?”

“ I di ; I ran from the cabin, found the
Spaniards had driven our crew from their deck,
and once on his schooner again, Freelance was
driving the enemy back to their brig, and of
course I joined in the fight—”

“ Like a cur running after another cur, when
somebody has first set him to going.”

“ I killed the two Spaniards in the cabin.”

“ Yes; the Christian, the Turk, even the Jew,
will fight for his God— on fought for yours—
Bonty,” suggested Vista Guarena, in tones most

cutting: but the swarthy face of his father never ,

changed, and he continued:

“I told Freelance that I had rushed into the
cabin, single-handed against a half-dozen, and
killing two, had put the rest to flight, and he
made me his first officer, in the place of the one
that had been killed, for I wasa boatswain then,
having been with him but a short while.”

“And Freelance took his wife buccaneering
with him?”

“ Oh, no; he was not then a huccaneer; only
cruisin in his own vessel for pleasure.

“ Hefiiad been in Eastern waters, but coming
this side the Atlantic, I j lined him at Boston,
whither I Went after leaving home, on the
occasion you refer to.

“ Of course the ring was missed; but it was
laid to the Spanish seamen, and I kept it hidden.

“Shortly after the affair with the. Spanish
bri we touched at Charleston in the Carolinas,
an Freelance sent me ashore to urchase
stores; but he sailed shortly after, leavmg word
It was said

vessel of war at anchor near him, that caused
him to put at once to sea.

“I think I was lucky in being left, as Free-
lance was wrecked on the Mexican coast some-
where, and his wife lost, I believe. leaving him
and three others alive. You see the devil takes
care of his own.”

“ True, you have lived quite long—let me see,
nearly fifty now, then b you don’t look it.”

Without noticing t e remark, the Monte
Prince continued:

“ Those three were a baby boy, his wife’s
maid, and a man who was the boon companion
of Freelance. He held no rank on the schooner,
only the position of friend to the captain.”

‘ A pleasant berth, with a leasant captain.”

“Yes and this man secme to enjoy it. Well,
I met lance in Vera Cruz, as ordered, and
went with him into the Mexican service.

“ You know what side we took, and that he
was outlawed by a pronunciamcnto as a irate
and thus he became a buccaneer, I still ollow-
ing his fortunes.”

‘ You doubtless followed them as long as you
could?”

“ I did; but he seemed to think John Manuel
too cruel. The crew had an unpleasant way of
besiwwing nick-names, and they dropped the
John, which served as an honest prefix to my
cognomen, and called me Red Manuel.”

“On account of little indiscrations on our
part. such as cutting a throat, thrusting a do

n the back, and—”

“Justso on account of little uliarities of
that land they rechristened me; ut Freelance,
not content with breaking me of my rank, one
day, because I shot an ugly old hag whom we

‘ had captured on a prize, and whom I recogniz-

ed._”

“ Ah! an old friend?”

“Yes, one who looked as though she might
have been the devil’s dam; she was your mother,
you know i”

“ My mother!”

The face of Vista] Guarena turned livid and
he sgrung to his feet.

“ it down] Keep cool, for the thermometer
is up among the nineties, and you might get
moon-struck, my son.”

The tone was metallic in its coldness, and the
face unchanged.

One glance into that face and the oung of-
ficer resumed his seat, 9. iii h escaping 's lips.

“Yes, she was my wi e and your mother,
once a beautiful young r], an Italian, who
danced for a living on the heater boards.

“ I became infatuated with her, and she mar-
ried me, and we settled down to wedded miserv
upon the little Florida farm my parents had left
me to starve on.”

“I thought my mother died when I was a
child—you always told me so,” said Vista],
slowly.

“ I always told you a lie, dear boy: your
mother ran away from home with a circus com-

 

pany, and I let her go, for we were not like turtle-
doves in our married life.

“ It was she who taught me how great were
my powers for devilment, and I set to work ex-
hi iting my talents upon that stranger who
stop d at my house for shelter one night.

“ hat was my master-stroke, for it made a
man of me, and of dyou too, for I brought you
here where you coul develop your talents; for
‘like father. like son ’ I thought.

“Now, what became of my stray wife after
she left my bed and board I cannot tell you, for
l silenced her tongue ere I learned her story,
which doubtless would have been of interest;
but, certain it is, a dried-up specimen of female
anatomy, I found her upon a prime we captured
and her tongue began to let loose a stream of
abum upon me.

“ To stop the flow of language, I shot her
through the brain.

“ It was an unlucky shot for me, I then
thought—but now I think different] —-for Free-
lance saw the act and ordered me hung at the
yard—arm within the hour.

“ It was dark when I was led forth to execution
and I saw an advantage in my favor, if I could
use it. We were bowling merrily along within
half a league of the land, and the wind was
blowing seven knots, and the schooner making
nine out of it.

“ The man who was to tie my hempen cravat
about my neck I had once favored slightly by
savin his life, and I whispered to him to ace
a kn' e up in right sleeve, and not to hing my
hands, thong seeming so to do.

“Up I went to the yard-arm, hanging clear
of the schooner and over the waters, and thou h
choked savagely I freed my hands, severed t e
rope above my head and went down feet first
into the sea.

“It was believed the rope broke, the dark-
ness hiding my act: I was expected to drown
immediately, and the schooner passed on.

"’ I struck out for the shore as soon as I loos‘ ,

ened my hempen cravat, and I need not tell
you that I arrived, for the presence of your af-
fectionate father here proves that much.

“ Now, being averse to yard-arms I came to
Mexico to carve out my fortune, going to the
Capital, and entering into business there.”

“ What business?”

“ Gambling.”

“ Proceed: I am all attention.”

“ I had with me all I possessed in the world,
for I would not leave behind me for others that
which was of use tome; so I had some funds,
and my diamond ring besides a number of very
fair recious stones, t at I turned into mone .

“ fter I had laid the comer-stone of my or-
tune I felt a longing to see you, my son, so I
had you brought hither, concocted a story
about your being the son of a wealthy Cuban
who had died of yellow fever in Tampico, and
left you to my guardianship with some little
money, and had no difficu ty in etting you
adopted by that old fool In licia, w 0 died and
left you a fair fortune, w ich you have run
through with.”

“ And did you dare go to the city of Mexico
after having served with Freelance?”

“ It seems so; I wore shortrcropped hair then,
and a very long beard; now I' wear very long
hair and no heard, only this,” and the onte
Prince quiet] fondled the ends of his black,
silken mustac e.

“ But about that Don Merlino? You have
not told me how you knew him, and how you
recognized him?”

“Ah! my son is interested, I see, in the story
of his father.

“ I have not seen that dangerous young man
since he was five or six years of age, yet 1 recog-
nized him to-night, for, excepting having grown
older his face has not changed.

" With even this thrust through my hand,
and my one hundred and fifty thousand hard-
ear‘ned sav’ings gone, I rejoice that I met him.”

“I w ll tell on why,” and a look so very
devilish the man’s face, that Vista]
Guarena felt assured that he was to hear an-
other story of crime from his father’s lips.

 

CHAPTER XXXI.
'rnn mom muses sanxs REVENGE.

A FEW indolent whiffs at his cigar did the
Monte Prince give after his promise to tell Vis-
ta] Guarani: wh he rejoiced at havin met
Merle; then he gun, in a voice us ca as
thou h telling an ordinary story:

“ s 1 mid you, Vista]. the son of Freelance
the Buccaneer, was the man, or rather youth, for
he is nothing more in years, who drove “that an-
chor-hilted knife through my hand to-night, and
which leaves me a debt tosettle With him, for my
revenge against his father I thought I had en oy-
ed: I am not, however, so easy in my min on
that point just now, as you Will see by my
storv.

‘ “ When Freelance was outlawed as a bncca-
neer by the Mexican government, he left here
in Vera Cruz his baby boy.

“The child was placed at the home of an old
Mexican woman, whom the chief had in some
way served in the bygone, and the maid of the

 

 

 

 

 

 

Merle, The Mutineer.

2.5

 

 

boy’s mother, also a Persian, had immediate
char e of him.

“ hen my trouble occurred with Freelance
the boy was over four years old, and of course I
looked upon him as the object of my reveu e
upon his father, who was crazin attached
the little Merle, for such was his name.”

“ Father’s do love their sons, then?” sneered
Vistal Guarena.

“That depends, my dear boy, upon the son;
but do not interrupt me with your facetious re-
marks. if you wish to hear my pleasant story.”
ti “ :11 try not to oflend again; I am all atten-
on. ’

“Togainmyend Ivisitedassoonas I gain-
ed power in the land, the home of the Mexican
woman, and unrecognized by the Persian maid,
for Ifiy disguise was complete——”

“ ow did on disguise the villainy in your
face? That eature of Red Manuel must still
have lingered on the virtuous physiognomy of
Don Felipe Cosala.”

“There on are again; but never mind, I will
not uarre with you.

“ y dis ise was complete, and I made love
to the ma d or rather nurse, for she was a
beaut , and 'I cultivated the boy, who grew
very 0nd of me. ”

H  P?

“ Yes, it is a fact, for I did all I could to win
the little fellow over, and I was successful.

“ All my plans workin I was called by busi-
ness to Tampico and an enly came upon the
boon friend of Freelance and intuition told me
he had come to take the boy from Vera Cruz-—
perhaps carry him to his father.

“ I saw this man land from a ilot-boat and
as soon as he had walked away loosened the
tongues of the crew and learned that they had
been brought-to, a few leagues out, by a schoo-
ner, and paid liberally to bring him to Tampico.

f‘ Close questioning provsd to me that m sur-
rnise was correct, for the men remembe hav-
ing heard some one on board the schooner call
0 e

u .

“ ‘If the weather is bad, I will be at the ren-
dezvous the first pleasant day; let nothing pre
vent you from getting the boy.’

“I tracked t 0 man to a tavern and found
that he had madeinquiries as to when the first
vessel sailed for Vera Cruz.

“This decided me; I chartered a small craft
and left within the hour.

“Arriving in the city, I went to find the boy
at once: but he was out with his nurse, and I
awaited their arrival, to find that some fool I
had won mone from had believed I intended
marrvin the ersran' girl.i and had,to thwart
me, told er I was a gamb er and a murderer,
for he wmleased to call some little aflairs of
honor I indulged in by the harsh name of
murders.”

“ Strange; he should have known better than
to make such an accusation against you.”
hi“S”oI told him five minutes before 1 killed

in.

“ You killed him, then?”

“ Of course; what else could I do, for he kept
the child from gtfiig willingly with me, and
com lled me to e him by force.”

:: “pg! th‘e authorities?” the

y istahyousurp me. Iwentb
night and alone, and one of the in th{
street went blind, that is he coul not see be-
yond a certain handful of pesos he had, and the
other guard, not very far away, was afflicted
With deafness from the same cause—gold.”

“ You were lavish with your money.”

“I love gold much, my boy; but I love re—

' vengei more.
i 4

ell, I went .by night to the little house,
and to my surprise the two women evidently
suspected that my intentions were wicked, for
they would not open the door to me."
‘ Why did you not try gold?”
“ (Ildtried something more eflective in that case

it  l”

The manner in which Vistal Guaiena uttered
thisexclamation every now and then, was in-
sult-ii? in the extreme. but the Monte Prince

always answer it with a bow, serene, po-
lite and smiling.

“ Yes, I shotthelock of! the door and enter-
ed, to find that thedamage was not alone to the
door—l had shot the Mexican woman through
the body.”

“Killing her of course?”

“ No; wounding her then, but killingher with
my knife, as she was inconsiderate enough to
scream for hel .”

“She shoul have had more eornidsration,
that is a fact.”

“80 I thought, and I was offended at her
action, and stop the racket with my knife.”

“ And the Persian nurse, and child!”

“ The boy was in another room, but the nurse
was presen for she came at me with a long
knife in her d.”

“ You felt hurt at this conduct, on her part,
as a matter of com-set”

“ I did, for I don’t like a knife in a woman’s
band would rather fight two men armed with
long lades, than one woman with a dirk; you
don t know where they are oingr to strike.”

“True, they are like the ightning in that re-

 

spect. Well, where did this pleasant Persian
s rike?”

“ She struck the floor, driving the knife in the
plank, for I shot her before she got to me. "

“ Gold for the patrols—lead or the women;
proceed, my father.”

“ I then went after the boy, who had seen all
that had occurred and had retreated to the
furthest corner of the next room, for the door
was open; but, would you believe it? the child
showed fl ht, and was armed with atoy hatchet
with whic he attacked me, and I was forced to
strike him a violent blow to prevent his doing
me i'lr‘igury)!’

“ e low stunned him and I bore him
awa to a place of safety, where I left him.

“ fipon returning to my hotel I came full up-
on the messen er sent by Freelance, and I at
once followed him, determined to take advan-
tage of circumstances.”

‘ Poor circumstances.”

“Good that, very, my witty son; you have

your mother’s wit; you inherited her tongue,
n my word; but am not fond of tongue,
the)“ is—teo much of it.”

“ Well, I followed him to the house and saw
him enter. All was darkness within, for I had
dashed out the light, and he called aloud to
arouse the inmates.

“I answered outside, and as he came toward
me I knocked him down and sprun upon him.

“Then I called loudly for help, ut it was a
10 time before it came, for that deaf patrol
cofid not hear, nor the blind one see what was

going on.

“ ut, help did come at last and I marched
my prisoner off, accused him of murdering two
women, and having a confederate who ran off
with a child.

“Of course he denied it; but he was in the
hands of the military authorities, who knew me,
and while I was com limented, he was marched
oil' to the castle as a ife—long prisoner.”

“ Is he in the De Uloa, now?”

it Yes. ”

“His name?”

“ He has none—only his number.”

“ His number, then?”

“Five hundred.”

“ Yes; he is incarcerated for murder—was
never tried—sentenced for life—a man of sixty,
now—large blue eyes, long hair and beard—
hight five feet eleven inches.

‘IIe is in the second tier of cells, and is in
Berpetual darkness there; the jailer reports that
e will not live long.”

“ My dear boy, you know him by heart; are

you thus well posted on all the prisoners in the

yno means- n oncea ear,an
this man’s face sti'uck me when I flrys't saw it,
three ears , when appointed to the castle,
and I elt the he had done no wnon .”

“ The colonel commandant then ought dif-
ferently.”

:: $223 your say so?”

“Let me see—Colonel Ruidrez succeeded Gen-
eral Corrientes, I understand— ou held some
plunger over Corrientes and he id as you ask-

“ I held the same power over him that I do
over others high in authority.”

‘: i511.“ thftdmbjzr t ‘ gambl

‘ at o e ; mos at men
you know, Vistal ?” gm 6,

“ Very true; but Colonel Ruidrez dose not; he
is rich and can do an act of justice.”

“ Such as—i”

“Release No. 500.”

“ No, for he believes him guilty.”

“ But I will—”

“ You dare say one word in favor of that
man and—”

“ Enough; I am in your power; you made me
what I am—a forger, and a decoy of men for

on to rob: I am in your power, Don Felipe
Cosala, the Monte Prince. ”

“ I know it, for I hold your for on the
Bank; you know I took it up the be ter to keep
you in the traces.”

“ That was hard] needed; rather than be
known as your son, would commit almost any
crime,” bitterly said the young man.

“Now you are talking with reason, and No.
500 must rot in his dungeon; he deserves it for
one thing.”

“ What is' that?”

“He knows of a treasure greater than any
monarch pomesses.”

“ A treasure!”

“How dull you are; take a glam of liduor to
gluickeen your understanding—here: 1ngfl the

on Prince on a goble 0

“ts and Wm the young man, 3%
bed it on atadra t forhisnerveewere

Do 3"“ wimt‘lt he fllledbeal'ilfl'ail

n e qu e re t e ver blet
and drank own theycontents. ‘0

“Now wecan runon smoothl ;IsayNo.500
knows where the treasure of ce is con-
cealed.

“ _He was wrecked with the Buccaneer but
the immense treasure was saved; this I got from
the Persian girl.

“ But where the immense booty is hidden No.

 

500 will not tell, although I have offered him his
pardon if he would do so.”

“ And he refuses?”

“Yes; he swears he will die with the secret
unknown to others.

“ Three years ago I saw him last and toldbim
of the death of Freelance, for I proved to him I
knew who he was, though he fai ed to recognize
me; but the stubborn idiot refused to say a
word about it, and this is his revenge on me.”

“ Then the secret will not be found out, and
all this treasure will be lost?" cried Vistal Gua-
rena with avaricious disappointment.

“ 0, there is one more chance of finding out.”

“ How 1”

“Through the son of the buccaneer, for I am
confident that Merlino the ranchero, knows
where lies the treasure.”

“ But he will keep the secret to himself—and
the treasure, too.”

“ That we shall see.”

CHAPTER XXXII.
DON rnern’s PLOT.

“ Tm: man who punished on last night, I
fear will never be forced to te what you wish
him to,” said Major Guarena, in answer to the
last remark of his father.

“We shall see if he will.”

“ And you are certain that he is the son of
Freelance, for, though you kidnapped him when
a boy, I judge you have lost sight of him for
some years?” inquirineg said the omcer, whose
greed for gain new conquered the good in his
composition, for he was not bad at heart, when
com with the older villain, his father.

“ h, I am certain enough about his being
the son of the buccaneer; he is not only the
image of his father, but is strangely like his mo-
ther' to do him justice, he is a wonderftu
handsome fellow, in both face and form.

“ Yes, I did lose sight of him; but see, the sun
is rising, and we have made a pleasant night of

it.

“ As I was saying, when that ra of sunlight
interru ted me, I lost si ht of the hey.

“Ile t him at an old exican’s on the coast
below here a few leagues, and regularly received
word of the boy for several months, and then
hearing nothing from myman I randownto
see what was the matter.

“The Mexican but was in ruins, and I was
told b some people living back in the country
that e buccaneers had landed on the coast,
pillaged the pie, killing a few of them, and
carried of! t 6 b0 .

“Now, though I am not certain, I have
always thought that it was Freelance, who,
in some way, gained knowledge of the boy’s
whereabouts; ut, what is most mysterious, I
gterward saw the little fellow in this very har-

r.

“ I was, in company with a number of notabili-
ties, coming up the harbor in a yacht, having
been on a cruise of a day and running close in
toward a merchant vesse I suddenly descried
that runaway quietly looking at us from the
ship’s quarter-deck.

‘ I turned away)lest he should see me, and
u n arriving at wn took dinner, and return-

down the harbor to board the vessel; I was
too late, for it had sailed an hour before.

“ That fgiave me the idea that the be was not
with his ther, but knocking about ship
to shig homeless. friendless and a waif.

“T other dayl sawhim asaman,andI
thought I ‘ him, andkept rnye e upon
him,andnow seebythe that erle, a
former lieutenant of Free the buccaneer
became an officer in the United tes navy and
led a mutiny; but you read the account.”

“Yes, and in Don Loon Merlino, ranchero,
from Coven Christi, you recognise Merle, the
Mutineer

“ I do.”

“Thereisaprice onhishead.”

“A few thousand pesos,” said the Monte
Prince, contemptuously.

“ Boy, I tell you he knows where the hidden
treasure is, andwewill drag the secret from
him.’

“gowf I am interested to learn, Iamure

“Yousentachallengetohimtomeet you in
the fascists; for calling you a coward?”

“Well; RealJuarez was to havethemeeting
dela ed for two weeks for you to go to the

capi .”

‘In the Virgin’s name! what shall I go there
for?" ,
remotion.”

“lam inthedark.”
“ I will minygou tags?- you must be
incommandofthe danJuande 0a.”

“ Curse, Colonel Ruidrez; he mustbe promo.
too.’

“ I still .”

“ I still myon must go to the capital with
letters from me to Mexico 3 ruler, and to others
who hold the reins of Government, and there
will be two promotions, for Ruidrez will be
placed in command elsewhere, with higher rank,

 

26

and on, mv gallant boy, will be made com-

man ant of the Castle San Juan de Uloa.”

“ But, can you do this?”

“ Is it worth a trip to Mexico city to find
out?”

i i Yes. ”

“Well, you start'to-day, and return within
the two weeks. Ruidrez will be relieved of his
command and you will shoulder his epaulettes
and remain at t e castle.”

“ And the Senorita Victorinei" “

“ Must become the Senora Guarena before
her father leaves, and remain the belle of the
castle.”

“S lendid! What then?”

“ ou must designate the place for the duel
with this mutineer, and a file of soldiers will be
quietly on hand to arrest him.

“ Once in the castle he goes to a dungeon, if
he does not make known where the treasure is,
and he stays there for life.

“ If he does tell, under promise of half-shares,
I will kill him and give you his share.”

“ It shall be as you say, if you have the wer
to do what (you profess in the we. 0 pro-
motions,” sai the delighted young officer.

“A trip to the capital wil prove that; now
let us freshen our appetites and sit down to
breakfast, for Pedro announced it by bell,
several minutes since.”

The two men took a drink of liquor to their
success and stepped into the breakfastrroom,
where both ate heartily, the Monte Prince
occasionally cursing his wounded hand.

As they arose from the table Lieutenant Real
Juarez entered.

“ Well, senor, you saw the Don Merlino?”
asked the Monte Prince, with some eagerness
for him.

“Yes, and arranged for two weeks hence; it
suited him, he said, as he was to leave to-day.”

“Leave! he leave Vera Cruz? \Vhere is be
goin i” cried the Monte Prince.

“ 6 has gone.”

“ Gone!” almost shrieked both men.

“Yes, senores; he sailed in the packet for
New Orleans at noon.”

“This must not be. Juarez, go at once to
Capitan Caballos, of the armed cutter in the
harbor, and tell him Don Felipe will board him
within two hours to go in pursuit of the New
Orleans packet, that carries off a state prisoner
of the greatest im rtauce to the Government;
do you understan i”

‘ Si, senor!”

“ Then obey as soon as possible.”

The lieutenant departed in haste, and the
Monte Prince turned to Major Guarena:

“I will overhaul the (packet and capture him,
and Caballos must hol him until you get the
castle; now I will write the letters promised,
while you go and fire are for your journey; be
back here within t e our."

“ But what if you do not overhaul the packet?”

“ Then I shall seize him in the United States
and bring him back—I will not lose that trea-
sure.

Two hours after Major Vistal Guarena was
on his way, post-haste, to the cit of Mexico,
and the Monte Prince was on boar the Mexican
cutter, which, under clouds of canvas, was in
pursuit of the New Orleans packet-ship.

CHAPTER XXXIII.
‘ FOILED.

THE New Orleans and Vera Cruz packet-
ship, Mexico, was a rapid sailer, a. stanch ves-
sel, and possessed a good captain and able crew,
requisites most necessary indeed where life is so
thoroughly at stake in tempting the dangers of
the mighty decap.

“ Captain R ston, that is an armed craft in
your wake.”

The speaker was a man above the avera in
hight, and had the look of one who ha , in
earlier years, been exceeding]?r active and pow-
erful; but now he was slight y stooped in the
shoulders and walked with a cane upon which
he ressed heavily.

till in spite of the three-score and ten years
which his white hair and gra beard proved
must have passed over his hea , his eyes were
bright and piercing, and with the aid of a ood
sea-glass that he carried in his hand he ha de—
tected that a vessel three leagues in the wake of
the Mexico was a cruiser.

“ I believe you are right, commodore; he
looks sauc even at this distance, and is coming
on with a ig bone in his teeth; I hope he won’t
prove to be one of those li ht-heeled free rovers

hat sometimes give us a c .”

“I hope not for your half-dozen little sixes and
one brass twelve would not be of much service
against such an armament as those fellows car-
ry; still, captain, if he is a buccaneer, and tries
boarding, we are fortunate in having an exceed-
ingly large passenger list, and you must num-
ber thirty in crew i”

“ Thirty-three all told, with myself, com-
modore, and forty male passengers in the cabin
and twelve 1n the steerage~eighty-iive in all.”

“ Then we must let him board us, keeping our
forces concealed and then not only drive him
from the decks but seize his Schooner.”

“ By St. (it-ergo! commodore, your years have
not taken from you a desire for a sen—light, l.

 

discover. If it come to blows, sir, remember
you are the comman er.”

“ Ah‘, no, Captain Ralston; I will aid you all
in m power, but you must fight the ship,” and
the o d sailor turned his glass again upon the
pursuing craft, for now it was ev1dent the ves-
sel astern was in chase of the packet—ship.

As he leveled his glass again there was visible
upon the wooden case in large gilt letters, a
name:

“ALFRED BRAINARD,
“Commodore U. S. Navy.
“ CONSTITUTION, 44 GUNS.”

“Captain Ralston l”

“ Ay, ay, sir.”

“That vessel is a schooner low in the water,
raking masts and carries half a hundred men,
and fully six twelves to a broadside.”

“ It is either one of those Caribbean corsairs,
or—i!

“Or what, commodore?” asked the captain,
as the other aused.

“ Or that exican cutter we left in the bar-
bor of Vera Cruz.”

“You are right, sir; I recognize her now; I
thought she had a familiar look.”

“It is the El Saltador, the Senor Caballos
commander. ”

“ What can he be in pursuit of you for, cap
tain i” l

“ Some important prisoner has doubtless
esca d, and he wishes to see if he is on board
me; don’t think we have any suspicious char—
acter 'on board, do you, commodore?”

“It is hard to tell, captain; most men are
masked nowadays.”

“I may be wrong in my surmise: but what
else could bring the Mexican cruiser after me,
and he is certainly in chase, and I have known
of several packets having been overhauled to
search for prisoners that have escaped.

“ By Heaven! if I had a r devil on board
I would almost fight for him rather than give
him up to be returned to that gloomy old castle.”

“ Your goodnem of heart does on credit,
Captain Ralston; yes, that is the l Saltador,
for I noticed the peculiar rig of the cruiser as
we passed out of the harbor. ’

“And he comes on in a style that does not ,
'sist upon seeing every man and woman you
a

belie his name—The Leaper; by the way, com-
modore, what do you think of that remarkable
escape at Havana, of Merle, the Mutineer and
his crew i”

“ It was marvelous sir.”

“Marvelous indeed was it, commodore; and
they deserve to esca for their daring.

‘ I see that the paniards dub the mutineer
now, El Saltador.”

“ The Lea r is a name he certainly deserves,
Ca tain Raston; your Mexico is fast, but El
Sa tador is faster, and is driven on in dead earn-
est; will you wait until he overhauls you, or
come to?”

“ I’ll stand on until brou ht.to by a shot: if I
thought there was any don t about onder craft
being El Saltador I would arm t 9 crew and
passengers and call them to quarters.”

“ There is no doubt of it captain; I have seen
the Mexican cutter several times and know it to
be that craft; there comes a shot now.”

As Commodore Brainard s ke a at! of white
smoke burst from the bows o the exican, and
soon after came the rushing shot, flying high
over the masts of the Mexico.

"Curse him, he is making me lose an hour of
this good breeze; but I must obey,” mutter-
ed Captain Ralston, and the Mexico was soon
lying-to awaiting the pleasure of the Mexican.

Running close up, with his men at quarters,
as though expecting resistance, Captain Caballos
hailed, in S anish:

“ Ola la exico !”

“ Bien, Senor Mexicano!” shouted back Cap-
tain Ralston, in no very amiable mood at los-
ing his time.

‘You have a state prisoner on board—one
Don Leon Merlino, a ranchero, from Corpus
Christi,” shouted back the Mexican.

“If there is such a person on board Captain
Caballos has but to come and take him.” haugh-
tily replied the American, and he added, in a
low voxce:

“ I gave it to him that time, commodore.”

“By San Diego! I will do so,” was heard in
the angry voice of the Mexican. and a moment
after a boat put of! from the side of the cutter
and ap roached the packetship.

“ Holy Moses! what can he want here?”

“ To whom do you refer, captain?” asked the
commodore.

“ 0 that devil’s limb, Don Felipe Cesala, the
Mon Prince; he sits beside the captain.”

“Who is this Monte Prince, captain, of whom
I hear so much!” asked the commodore.

“With t answering you abruptly, commo-
dore, he i , if not Satan himself, his first cousin;
9. man that comes from nobody but himself
knows where.

“ He is a professional gambler, and was for
years, is even now, ’tis said, a secret spy for the
government, 8 ying upon the movements of
every official mm the highest to the lowest,
and all fear him for he has wonderful power.

“ He is a dead shot. a desperate hand with the
knife, and has sent scores of men to their graves;

Merle: EheeeMetiessLm

 

 

but I heard that the night before we sailed he
met his match, and I see he Wears his right arm
in a slin .”

“Bv eptune!”

“ Wha captain?”

“ I re the name—the man whom Captain
Caballos asked for was the one who bearded the
Lion of the Palacio of Fortune, as the gambling
hell is called.”

“Indeed! have you such a person on board,
captain?”

‘ Not to my knowledge, commodore; if so, I
would hate to give him 11 and confess to a eu-
riosity to know him; but have a large passen-

er list. Good-morning, Senor Capitan Cabal-
os; and Don Feli , how are you? Heard you
hatlilbpen dreadfu y wounded, yet you appear
we . ‘

“ Senor Americano, it seems you have run off
with a state prisoner, of course unintentionally,
and I must request to search your vessel,” re-

lied the Mexican officer, merely returning
aptain Ralston’s greeting with a slight bow,
while the Monte Prince inclined his head gra-
ciously; he was too elegant ever to slight a re-
00 nition.

‘ If I have, senor, on will find him on my
n er list. Mr. rowne, bring the register

ere, p ease.”

The purser soon returned with the book, and
the Monte Prince, taking the initiative, ran his
finger and eyes down the names.

‘ Don Leon Merlino,” he said, at last.

“ The name is not here—mldito I”

"Not here, you say, Don Feli ? Then you
have had your chase for nothing?”

“ Your passenger list of the cabin shows not
the name; but where is your steerage list?”

“ It follows it—there where your finger is.”

The Monte Prince hastily glanced over the
dozen names.”

“ Not here, either: could Juarez have been
misinformed? No, I called at the hotel myself,
and ’t’was said he took your packet for New Or-
leans

“ Doubtless he runs under a disguise, captain.”

“It may be, senor; I do not undress my pas-
sengers as they come on board, to see if they are
what their clothes represent them to be.”

“ I am sorry, Captain Ralston, but I must in-

have on board,’ said ptain Caballos, after a
whis red conversation with the Monte Prince.
“ hat is as they please, sir, not for me to say.”

“ And you decline to summon them on deck i”

“I do; if they come you must ask them, and
if I had the power, as I have the will, to proi ,ct
them, you would remain a very short while up-
on this deck,” was the quick retort of the plucky
American sailor.

“The captain is angered at losing this good
breeze, senor,” said the Monte Prince, smilingly;
then he added:

“ Who is that old gentleman, Captain Ral-
ston?”

“ One who is watching most closely how Mex-
ican naval officers and spies conduct themselves
on board an American merchant vessel.”

“ His name?”

“Alfred Brainard, commodore of the United
States navy.”

“ Ah !” and the Monte Prince turned his gaze
upon the old commodore, who had his lass to
his tzaye, and was closely examining the exican
cu r.

“ALFRED BRAINARD,
“ Commodore U. S. Navy,
“ Consnru'rxon, 44 Guns.”

That was what the Monte Prince read on the
Spy glass held by the old gentleman, and he

d cautiously to Captain Caballos:

“ We must go slow, for that old fellow is
famous, and has immense influence with his
Government; suppose you ask his advice, telling
him that the man is a most important prisoner
and may be disguised and under an assume
name.”

“ I will. Senor Capitan, will you present me
and Don Felipe to the American commodore?”

“ Certainly with his permission.”

Captain Ralston stepped forward and saluting
politely, said:

“ Commodore, as you doubtless heard, those
two Mexicans wish to be presented; what is
your will?”

“ Bring them up, of course, captain,” was the
answer, n a tone that the two heard, as the
old sailor shoved his glam together. '

“Commodore Bra nard. this is Captain Ca-
ballos, of the Marina de Mexico and command-
er of El Saltador, the cutter lying astern -of
us.”

The Mexican ofllcer bowed law, with his hand
upon his heart, and the American stiifly.

“ And this is Don Felipe Cosala, better llénown
as the Monte Prince, Commodore Braina .”

“ Your name is well known to me, Commodore
Brainard, as a most distinguished officer; it was
your vessel. sir, that captured the noted bucca-
neer, Freelance ” salt! t e Mule Prince.

“ It was my a ship. senor, the Constitution,
Captain Arthur renv1lle, commander: we took
the schooner of the buccaneer, but Captain
Freelance was already dead.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Merle, ,- The Mutineer.

,—~.wm

2'7

 

 

“You are kind, Commodore Brainard, to
give the irate the title of captain.”

“Was is being a pirate any reason wh he
should not hold the rank, when he he] the
command?” demanded the commodore, curtl .

“No, sir, your reasoning is unanswerab e,”
and the Monte Prince bowed as though he had
nothing more to say, while he glanced at Cap-
tain Caballos, who said, with another bow, and
hand on his heart:

“ Commodore, my Government sent me in
chase of this vessel to discover if a state prison-
er came of! from Vera Cruz as a passenger on
board.”

“The passenger lists will show, if you have
his name.”

“We have examined, and no such name is on
the books.”

“Then you are doubtless on the wrong tack.”

“ It may be, Senor Commodore; but may he
not be in disguise?”

“ Why should I know aught of the state pris-
oners 0 Mexico, Senor Caballos?” somewhat im—
patientl answered the old man.

“ Par on, senor, a thousand pardons for wor-

ing you; but I do wish permission to examine
t ‘e‘ ngers.”

” have not the honor to command this ves-
‘.‘ And the Senor Ralston refuses.”

 

“ I am glad he has the nerve to do so, but if
you wish it, to show that we do not desire to re—
tard your search, I will ask the passengers to 1
come on deck, those who are not here now, and
step forward as their names are called—except-
ing the ladies, for they must be free from im-
pertinent scrutiny.”

“ Gracias gracias, Senor Commodore,” said
Captain Cahallos, and while the request was l
made to the passengers, who willingly acceded,
he whispered to Don Felipe:

“ Caramba ! he is as cross as my grandmother
of ninety; but, what an eye he as: but we

are, I fear, Don Felipe, in the wrong w here.”

“ The wrong w, senor, but the ri t church ;
I am confident erlino is on board t is vessel in
disguise.”

Then you eye every one faithfully for me.”

“ I will,” an , as the purser called the names
of the passe ers of the Mexico excepting the
ladies and oh dren, each stepped forward and
underwent the scrutiny of the eyes of the Monte
Prince.

“ D'iablo! he is not here. If here, I have not
penetrated his disguise,” said the Monte Prince,
savavely.

“ am sorry, indeed, for your sake,” and
then raising his voice, Captain Caballos thank-

ed  asselanfiers tfor gel: kgiggngss, speakin
in a n is an a t e pardon 0
Ca tain stori for the delag.

aluting the commodore t e two men return-
ed to their vessel.

“Commodore, they think they have overdone
the matter, and are going to pour oil upon the
troubled waters by giving you a salute.

As Captain Ralston s ke the flag of the
Mexican cutter was dipped, and the guns
thundered forth a salute.

“ Dip the stars and stripes, mate, to the eagle
and the serpent,” said Captain Ralston, and a
moment after the two vessels were under sail,
the Mexico continuin on her interrupted course,
and E1 Saltador rus ing swiftly back toward
Vera Cruz.

 

CHAPTER XXXIV.
THE ARRIVAL. ,

WHEN the cket ship Mexico was once more
bowlin swi tly along, on her way to Hew'Or-
leans, t e commodore approached Captain Ral-
sson and said, quietly:

“If convenient to on Ca tain Ralsten, I
would like to have a 'ttIe ta k with you pri-

tel .”

“ C‘értainly, commodore; I am on! too glad.
Mr. Wortley take the deck, please. ow, com-
mOdore, come into in own state-room. See,
the Mexican is almost ull-down.”

“ Yes both vessels are running very ra idly

. P ,
and w soon drop each other; but, captain, al-
low me to make known to you a secret, and one
which I know you will keep as sacred.

“ Certainly, commodore; any confidence you
place in me shall be held inviolate.”

“Thank you sir; I feel that it will be so, and

our expressed wishes awhile since cause me to
¥eel that you can sympathize with one in dis-
tress.’
“ Amuredly, commodore,” responded Captain
Ralston, in surprise.

“Ca tain, I am not what I seem. On your
books appear as A. Brainard, U. S. Navy, the
name I gave to your purser and the spy-glass I
have bears the name of Alf Brainard, Com-
modore of the United States Navy, and that led I
you, and others, with my ap cnt age, to ad-
dress me as that distinguish tleman.

“Now, allow me to tell you t at business of a
most important nature carried me to Vera ‘
Cruz; that I am an officer of the United States ;
navy, but travel“ incognito, and was regis- ‘
tered in the city left as Don Leon Merlino, a
ranchcro, from Corpus Christi.” I

Had a solid shot crashed through the cabin. it
would not have startled Captain Ralston more.

 

“ You! you the man that gave the Monte
Prince his quietus? No, it cannot be, for he
was a mere youth, I was tol ”

“ So am I, captain, when my disguise is 0&—
see!’

The white wi was taken from the head, the
long gray bear followed, and the handsome,
youthful face of Merle was revealed, ainted
and stained, and with eyebrows an lashes
whitened to resemble old age.

“ I am dismasted now, certain, with surprise,”
exclaimed the captain.

“ You need not be. I had learned something
of the secret wer of the Monte Prince, and for
fear I might e follOWed and seized, and I know
what seizure by Mexicans means, I sought a dis-
guise at a Jew 5 shop, and my eye fell upon this
sea- less and the name on it.

“ know Commodore Brainard well; he is
about my size, and I determined to personate
him as nearly as possible, and bought me an un-
dress naval suit, which, with the spy-glass, had
doubtless been stolen by some sailor, and sold to
the Jew. In a short while my make-up was
complete and I boarded you just as you had
your anchor apeak.” . . '

“ Yes, and you fooled those devflish Memcans
delightfully. By Neptune! if they were to re-
turn, I’d fight for you before I gave you up.”

“ No, rather than get you into trouble I would
surrender myself, come what might, now that

, you know me as I am. And you need not ap-

peal to Commodore Brainard as witness in this
matter of your vessel being searched.”

“ Nor Will I; the matter shall be dro ped, for,
after all, they did no harm; but I wil commo-
dore you until we reach gort.”

“It is perha s best. ne day, my dear cap-
tain, you may now why I am thus disguised. ’

“Roy Ralston asks no man‘s business, sir, that
does not concern him. I am lad to have met

on, and will serve you if it fa ls in my power.

hey tell me you handled the Monte Prince
splendid] ; would give my maintopmastto have
seen it. Now I must go on deck but I’ll see you
at dinner, commodore,” and Captain Ralston
left the cabin, confident that, if not a commo-
dore, he had a man of much importance as pas-
senger, for he had been told of the princel neck-
lace aud ruby anchor which had been s ed on
a e of cards.

n spite of her delay the fleet Mexico made a
rapid run, and dropped her anchor in the muddy
Mississippi, in front of the Crescent City, just
after dark, one pleasant evening.

Bidding Captain Ralston adieu, Merle, still in
his disguise of an old man. went ashore and
sprun into a cabriolet in waiting for a fare.

“ W ere, monsieuri". asked the Coachman.

“ To the Cabaret d’ Orleans,” said Merle, in
perfect French, for in driftin about from shi
toshipasalad,hehadlearn tes seve
languages as though they were is mother
ton e. On German, French, Spanish and
Eng ish vessels had he served as cabin-boy or
before the mast, after bein taken from the
Mexican’s but where Don Fe ipe had left him.

“ It was “ The Carnival ” time in New Orleans,
and the trottoi rs were thronged with merry
citizens enjoyin life, as they well know how to
do, in that Sout ern city.

Arriving at the Cabaret d’ Orleans, Merle se-
cured pleasant quarters. and after a hasty meal
he secured another cabriolet and drove along the
Rue San Louis until the coachman drew rein in
front of one of those ele ant old edifices of for-
eign construction, inha ited by the old and
wealthy families of the city.

Approaching the port-ale he rung at the door,
and it was soon opened by a negro, with a pomp-
ous air and in livery.

“Is the MademOiselle Monteith in the city?”
asked Merle.

“ Yes, massa, and in de house too, but she

ain't wisibul jist now sah, ’kase she’s goin’ wid ‘

her fr’en’s to do mass ball.”

“ Then I could not see her, 1 su i”

“ Tain’t possible, ole massa: w1s ’twas.”

Merle sli ped a twenty-five-franc piece into
the hand 0 the negro, and asked:
ballghat friends accompany her to the mask

f‘ Her guesterces, massa: dam as is wisitin' de
missy ” and the mono was quickly deposited in
the capacious pocket t at yawned to receive it.

“Their names, lease my man?”

“Yes massa, ere’s e capt’in an’ his wife—I
means apt’in Grenville an' Miss Stella, an’
de oder ca t’in,  Sebasti’n, w at arove ob
late from 6 1113108,th de bery debil am bin

y.

‘Pan they all go to the Salon Saints Louis
to-ni ht?"

“ es, massa.” h

“ Look here, In ebony friend: do you know
what that is?” an Merle placed a piece of gold
in the negro’s palm.

“It are a twenty-five-franc
gits ‘em changed ofl’en for Miss

“ Well, do as I ask you, andy
four more just like that one.”

The eyes of the negro enlarged: to him it was

iece, massa; I
ildred.”
I will give you

;' a. fortune; but what was to be the service ren-

dered?

“What massa want me to do for him?” he
asked. warily.

“Let me know what will be the costumes
worn by Miss Monteith and her three friends at
the but masqiw to-night.”

“ I let massa know when dey comes down in
de parlor to git in de carridge, sah.”

“ It will be too late then—find out now.”

“ How I goin’ to find out, massa?”

“ Miss Monteith has a maid?”

“ Yes, massa—Louise.”

“ Here, give her these—there are ten of them,
and tell her to find some excuse to come here
for a moment, and I will give her as many
more; tell her she must know the costumes
which both ladies and gentlemen are to wear
to-ni ht.

“ pon iyJIour return, if you serve me faith-
fully, I wi double the amount Ipromised you.”

“Come right in here, massa,” and the negro
led the way through the portal into a court that
opened upon a beautiful garden.

“ Wait there, massa,” and he motioned Merle
to a seat in a small arbor.

“Golly! dat am a prince! Why dis nigger
will hab as much money as Missy Mildred got,
ef dat emperor want ter know much more,” and
he disappeared within the mansion.

So long did he remain absent that Merle be—
gan to feel impatient at his delay; but at length
he came from the mansion, accompanied by a
, trim little figure with a dark olive face that the
l young man recogn' as Louise, the quadroon
maid of Mildred.

“Heah am de pusson massa, as kin gib you
all do informashun ou esire on de subject dat
we was discussing,’ said the factotum, with an
air of dignity that seemed to say to Louise:

“ You kin take a bribe, gal, but I is beyond it.”

“My good girl, I sent after you to request of
you a favor.”

“Is it to betray my young mistress?” asked
Louise, calmly.

“Not to betray her, but the costume which
she and her friends will Wear to-night to the
mas uerade ball.”

“ y do you wish to know, sir?”

“ For a reason I cannot explain; but upon my
honor, I mean no harm.”

Louise hesitated and looked at the butler.

“I will pay most liberally for m informa-
tion—here,” and Merle held out both ands, one
dropping gold into the palm of Louise, the other
the eager clutch of the butler, who mut-

“Dis man am a king.” ‘

Louise said, slowly:

“ I will tell you, sir, for I do not believe harm
can come of it. Let me whisper to you, sir.”

Merle leant forward and the pretty quadroon

ave him the information desrred, and thank.
ing her he left the court, the butler ushered him
out with many a bow, and then going back to
the arbor to see if some stray gol piece had not
been dropped during a display of such princely
generosity.

As Louise returned to complete the toilht of
her mistress, she muttered: ‘

“He looked like an old man: but his voice
sounded familiar, and I think it is one of Miss
’ Mildred’s beaux, wishing to know how to find
her at the ball; anyhow, I hope so.

“Well, he gave me gold enough to ease in
conscience, even if I had done a great wrong.’

Upon leaving the Monteith mansion. Merle
drove to a costumer‘s, and secured a suitable at-
tire for the evening, ordering it sent to the
Cabaret d’ Orleans.

Dismimin his cabriolet near the ace-like
structure 0 the Sainte Louis, now rilliantly
li hted for the comin masquerade, Merle walk-

on until near the t e entrance he came upon
a gendarme, idly smoking a cf arre paged.

’ e said,

“ Ban soir, monsieur gen arme,
politely.

“ Good-evening, monsieur,” returned the

uard, dashing aside his cigarette, for he felt
t at he addressed a gentleman.

“ The mas?” have not yet begun to assem-
ble, I believe '

“ No, monsieur, not for the grande masque-
rade; but we have around us to-nigbt masks
and maskers innumerable,” said the gendarme,
pleasantly. “We gendarmes alone appear in
real character te-night,” he added with a smile.

Merle glanced at the crowded thoroughfares,
where monks, devils, nuns, angels, white and
gray, buccaneers, bandits, and innumerable
other maskers were makin the evening merry
with laughter, song and goke—many of them
{00 peop e from the French quartwr starvmg

hemselves six months of the year to have a gay
time at carnival.”

“When are you or! duty monsieuri” .

“At ei t, monsieur and glad .enough Will I
be, that may join in the festivities.”

“It is nearly eight new; you Will need money
for our leasure; here is an eagle for you.”

, “ onsneur has some object in this?" said the
' surprised soldier. .
y ‘ I have; I wish a ticket into the Salon Saints
‘ Louis to-night.”

“It is impossible for me to aid you, mon-

sieur.”

“ You mistake; vou have admittance, in your
, uniform, to the hall, and can procure me a
1 ticket in some way.”

“ The tickets are tWO eagles each, monsieur.”

 

*.‘-<~

28

Merle, The Mutineer.

 

 

“I know the price, and I know each buyer
has to give guarantee of respectability, or be
known to the committee; I prefer to remain un-
known.”

“ 0h, ciel! I fear I cannot aid you,” and the
gendarma looked wistfully at the gold in the

and of Merle.

“Is there no gendarme officer who will not
attend to-nighti”

“ Oui, monsieur, oui I The captain of. my com-
pany was called from quarters this afternoon,
to visit his father who is ill, and he left his
ticket upon his open dressing-case. I saw it
there when I ave him the message calling him
away and I t ink I can get it; but it is worth
my glace if can ht.”

‘ endarme, ereareten eagles for ou;brin
me a ticket to the Saints Louis to- ght, and
will double these I now give you. I am in
earnest. Come to the Cabaret d’Orleans and
ask for Don Leon Merliuo; do you understand i”

“ Sacre / how could I help it, monsieur? You
shall have the ticket if—if—I have to—steal it.”

“ Merci ; I will await you!”

So sayin , Merle turned on his heel and walk-
ed awa ; a had accomplished his object, and
would ave paid far more than he did, to at—
tend the Carnival Masquerade at the Salon
Saints Louis.

CHAPTER XXXV.
NEPTUNE AND THE SEA.

Tm: scene of the grand bal meagre held the
last night of Carnival was the otel Saints
Louis, a ma iflcent edifice, combinin an ex-
chan e, hote , bank, and ball-salons, With their
antec ambers.

The main front was on the Rue St. Louis. and
hither, as early as eight o’clock, the carriages
of the aristocracy began to arrive and deposit
their human freight—all en masque.

At nine o’clock a coupe dashed up to the door,
and a sin 1e occupant stepped forth, the cos-
tume whic he evrdently wore concealed by a
Ion black cloak, and his face by a mask of. silk
of t e same hue.

Ascending the broad stairway, he gave his
gilt-edged ticket to a lieutenant of gendams,
apgainted to receive them, and into the
an room for swords and robes, where a gend-
arme received his arms, a pair of handsomely
mounted pistols and short sword, for gentlemen
were not allowed to enter the salon armed,
under a heavy nalty.

Throwing asi 6 his domino he a as the
impersonator of Neptune, and h perfect cos-
tume was the admiration of all who saw him,
for it was rich in the extreme while a necklace
of superb diamonds encircled his neck, and to it
was suspended an anchor of princer rubles, the
li hts from the precious stonesdazz ing the eyes
0 the lookers-on.

Enterin the grand saloon a scene of gorgeous
beauty splendor met his eyes. He stood a
moment, gazing upon the life and ma ificence,
with the murmur of voices rising l e distant
thunder the regular tread of dancing feet, and
the era of music.

Then he began to thread his wa through the
gorgeous throng, his e es search u right and
sit for some object, w lie he was if the
cynosure of all whom he passed near.

Peering into the alcoves which lined the walls,
a little raised from the floor, he gave a search-
ing ance at every costume. Whoever he
song t he seemed determined to find.

Presently he started. Before him stood four
persons in a group and evidently of the same
party and known each other.

There were two gentlemen and two ladies,
one of the former in the full uniform of a cap-
tain of the United States navv, and his face se-
curel masked; the other in plain evening dress,
yet so w a mask.

The lady who ung on the arm of the ofloer had
already won the name of the belle of the bat
masque, from the exquisite beauty of her cos-
tume, and the rare lovelinem of her form.

She represented “ The Sea,” and herdress was
formed of the most costly green velvet, silk and
satin, woven together so as to look like the deep
green water-si while it was capsed with lace,
worth a smal fortune, to resem e foam.

The train extended far back, and upon it were
grouped ex te sea-shel while around her

ny waist was a girdle of made to imitate
seaweed, and a most clever imitation, indeed, it
was. A bodice of silver scales, a coronet of
beautiful coral from which fell a gauze vat] of
Nile-green, and of the finest texture, bracelets
and necklaces of large pearls and emeralds, all
real stones, a silver anchor to one side

i and a coil of golden rope to the other, completed
this marvelous and wonderfully beautiful cos-
tugf, (faxes lting a maskt tgf silver net-grog]:i1
e person 0 e grou , w o g on
the arm of the tleman in citIIen attire, was
also beautiful form and rarely dremed in
crimson velvet and black lace; a mask of exqui-
site lace also concealin her features.

“ Father Neptune see The Sea! Make room,
all for Neptune and The Sea!”

The voice rung out above all other sounds,
from the lips of some mask whose eyes had sud-
denly fallen 11 n the two characters.

At his cry t re crowd separated right and left,

 

 

and the one who had so earnestly been search-
ing the salon found himself face to face with the
ob ect of his search.

e cry of the mask, can ht up b half a
hundred other voices, decid him an heste

forward and bent low before the now recog-
ug Sea, at finding herself so suddenly made
disa bly cons rcuous.

“ ld Father eptune bends low before thy
beauty, oh, Sea! and casts the anchor of his
ho s at th fair feet.”

3 he spo e he offered his arm, while the lady
hesitatinf, her escort the naval captain, an-
swered or her, for he cared not to lose her

socre‘ty:

“ e are not crossing the Equator, Father
Neptune, where thou hast a right to shake thy
hoa locks in our faces.”

“ ne of thy trade, as thy buttons show,
whose callingui: is to tinge the green waves with
the blood of ' fellow-men, should remember he
is not upon his own deck now,” was the uick
retort, and a murmur of applause gree the
reply of old Neptune, while the one addressed,
and the lady upon his arm, started at the words.

Then again bending low before The Sea, Nep-
tune cont nued:

“The dancing of thy waves, oh, Sea, it is ever
my joy to be old, and I ray thee allow the
wmds to waft us through t e mazes of this rip-
pling dance.”

There was something in the tone of the speak-
er that caused the one addressed to a ain start,
and glancin down her eye fell upon is hand.

Then, wit stran E(iateferness she left the
arm of the officer, w o d, coldly:

“ I will await you here.”

Another instant and she was floating around
the room upon the arm of old Neptune.

One turn of the gand salon, to the admira-
tion of all who wi eased the exquisite grace
with which both danced, and Neptune drew his
companion through an arched doorway out
upon a balcony, which had been arran ed to
serve as a conservatory, for it was fill , with
fragrant flowers and rare exotics, while a num-
ber of little rustic arbors, with silk-cushioned
seats here and there, were hidden amid the
folia e—the very retreat for lovers.

“ he tide sets hitherward oh, Sea; and we
cannot stem the current,” and Ne tune led his
companion into a rustic arbor at t e further end
of the balcony.

“ Oh, Merle!”

With this cry the maiden sunk upon an otto-
man.

“ You know me, then, Mildred?” said the
man sadly.

“ ‘iles, your voice told me who you were; but,
Merle you are lost—you are lost! ’

“I do not understand on, Miss Monteith.”

“ Wilber Sebastian is ere; he returned some
daysa o.”

‘ I now it. I took you from his arm—I
came here to see you, Mildred.”

It did not occur to her to ask how he had dis-
covered her; she onl trembled at the risk he
hadrun andre a a in:

“ Merle, Mer e, why d you come beret”

“ I discover that my presence is unwelcome;
I will lead you back to Captain Sebastian,” he
said bitterly. .

“ o, no; now you are angry, and without
cause. Thou h I longed to see you, Merle, I
wished not t at you should come here. Day
after day I have waited to hear from you, that
I mi ht come to you, wherever you were. ’

“ P have come to Ion, Mildred.”

“ But it is death or you to remain here. You
are outlawed as a pirate, a deserter and a mu-
tineer by your own vernment, and, condemn-
ed to he shot withou trial, wherever found, on
land or sea.”

The man .

“ And this is true, Mildred?”

“Yes; his story was behaved, and he has

been given another vessel—a sloo f-war.”
“By Heaven! his triumlph ll be short-
lived. Mildred, do you be 'eve me the guilty

bein I am said to be?" ,

“ erle, you know I do not,” said the
maiden reproachfully.

“ And Captain Grenville?”

“ Is at a 10m what to believe. He heard Ca
tain Sebastian’s statements before the inves -

ting committee, and the. sworn testimony of
El; 0 cars and men, who were with him, and he
was exonerated, and you condemned.”

“So let it be, for the present. Mildred, I
have that proof which will cause Wilber Sebas~
tiantebe di aced, after which having been
driven from he navy, he will fail to my re-

veu

“Iecame here to meet m own faithful crew,
or to communicate with t em, and have them
b ht before a naval committee as soon as I
coul get trial' then the whole truth will come
out regardin this terrible affair. ”

“Merle, I ve never believed you guilty, and
toprove it I will tell on what carried us to
Havana,” and Mildr told of the letters re-
ceived from poor Jack Buntline and her entrea-
ties to follow the schooner, which caused Cap-
tain Grenville to pursue in the yacht, all of
which Merle already knew, but which he listen-
edto eagerly, from her lips.

 

 

“ I held no doubt of you, Mildred or of Cap-
tain Grenville; but it pains me to feel that he

believes me guilty.”

“Merle, he knows not what to think; he has
heard everything against you, and nothing in
your favor; he has always liked Sebastian, and
also Lieutenant Alden, and the secret influence
of Estelle is terribly against you.

“ He grieves for you, as though you were his
own son, but in appearance everything points
to your guilt. ”

‘ Mildred, I will not now tell you all that I
have suffered, or that Passed upon that floating
hell the schooner o Wilber Sebastian; but
within the month all shall be made clear—”

“Not sooner, Merle?”

“ It will be impossible sooner, and perha it
may take longer, for I have much to do, and give
to immediate] return to Vera Cruz, from
whence I have ust come, and as the yacht is my
own property, will take it. I saw it at anchor
in the stream as I came up the river.”

“Yes, Merton Ainslie is in charge of it, Ca
tain Grenville having sent the crew home tot e
plantation.”

“ It isjust as well; Ainslie can go with me,
and I can secure a crew here.”

“ But, why return to Vera Cruz, Merle?”

“ Duty compels me. I came here to receive
letters of importance I expected, but mainly to
see you, Mildred, and hear from your own lips
you did not believe me guilty.”

“No, Merle, I could never doubt on."

“ Thank you, my own Mildred! our words
will make me hap y in spite of my own sorrow:
but I have a reve tion to make you Mildred,
that may make me almost crimina in our
sight; but not nOW' not now,” and Merle 5 ud-
dered as he remembered how his back had been
scarred with the cruel lash.

Would not this indignity, this felon’s punish-
ment, degrade him forever in her si ht?’

Such was his mental ue , an such had
been the thought burning m hrs brain since the
first blew had cut deep into his bare flesh.

“ I will write a note to Captain Grenville tell-
ing him I have taken the yacht and mail it to-
morrow,andas soon as I can I will return to
plead my cause before the world that has made
me so infamous without a hearing.”

:: ad within a morit‘lliidgieelrle? h i

ner, per aps, ' ; r ape t ma
take a longer time, for I shallpe remain a verg:
short while in Vera Cruz and then return here
to work up m defense, though I shall have to
do so in (11 .”

It did not occur to Merle that his meeting
with the Mexican, Major Vistal Guarena, whose
gliiallenge he had accepted, had any danger for

m.
“But, Mildred,” he continued, after a short

pause, “if you believe him ilty, why do you

:gpear in public with him ’ and there was a
ade of jealousy in Merle’s voice.

“ Because I cannot be] it; this costume I had
made to wear to this be , and, you remember,
you had promised to run over and accompany
m

e.

“ Upon returnin from Havana,Captain Gren-
ville and his wife me In guests, and Es-
telle asked her brother to t e mansion, and
hiding my time, for I wished no outbreak unt'
I heard from ‘you, I have treated him and his
sister with riendl regard, though greatly
against my will, an of course I could not re-
fuse him as my escort tonight, for Estelle and
Wilber were bent upon comm , and I yielded,
and forced smilesto my lips w e my heart was
full of tears.

“ Ah, Merle! you must return soon and brand
the lie upon the brow of Wilber Sebastian, or
my r heart must break.

‘ am but a girl, and on a mere youth yet
I feel that we are not ch dren, and suffer eep-
ly; so hasten, Merle, to take from your lips and
mine this our of bitterness.”

“I swear t, Mildred' if within two months I
do not prove myself innocent of the ch es
against me, .then you can believe me the ty
wretch men call me. Now, farewell.”

He merely pressed her hand in his own, and
led her away from the arbor.

Entering the salon the circled once round in
the waltz, their hearts in of he in] goy, dread
and pain commingl and then e lef her upon
the arm of Wilber bastian, and without a
word turned awe and disappeared from the
earnest eyes of dred, that followed his re-
retreating form. ______

XXXVI.
m nc mass A vones.

Wm Merle left 0 Salon Saints Louis he passed
out at? am; strtget, st cr'ovzdgl‘rith my musk.
ers, ea c 00 was pass! , or-
dered the «:35.» to go witha-ll speed to he 5:50"!

(1‘ Orleans.
U n his arrival he quickly (1 his score, ked
up g things and carpet-bag 11 hand tothe

waiting vehic e. .

Giving the address he desired to stop at, Merle
threw himself back on the cushions and was lost in
deep thought, until the dryer drew rein upon the

quay.

Handing him a Piece of money, Merle looked
around the deserted wharf for a boat, and finding a
small skifi', sprung m. and seizing the oars was soon
flying over the murky waters.

4‘

 

 

 

 

 

 

Merle, The Mutineer.

29

 

 

In five minutes hewas alongside a small vessel,
on the deck of which he the next instant stood.

“ Hulloal who have we here?" cried a voice, and a
man stepped from the cabin.

“ Ahi Ainslie, I am glad to have found you. I
feared you, like all others in the city, had no car-
nival-mad, and would be awa . Are you one?”

“I am sir, excepting an d shipmate who came
aboard to keep me company with a bottle of wine
and cigar; but ou are unknown to me,” and Mer~
ton Amelie gaz earnestly into the face before him,
for Merle had resumed his disguise of an old man.

“ Ah! I forgot: I am he whom men call Merle, the
Mutineer. deserter, pirate, or whatsoe‘er you will,"
said the outh bitterly.

“Mr. renviile! I am indeed glad to see you! I
knew not you were in New Orleans, and your dis-
guise is most comple ."

“ Yes, I came here upon im rtant business, and I
must leave to- ht for Vera , and in the 'acht;
but I will return ither after ashort delay in exico.
Will vyou accompany me there?”

“ lth pleasure, air; but—"

“I know what you would say— Captain Grenville
left on in charge of the yacht; but the vessel, Mr.
Ai e, is in own, and not an hour ago I left Ca -
rain Gren e and his y atthe Salon Sainte Lou ,
where I made known Miss Monteith my intention
of goin to Vera Cruz, and she it was that told me I
would nd you here." ’

“ I have nothing to say, sir; the yacht, I know, is
yours; but there is no crew."

“That is a secondary matter, for you can easily
procure one, and at once. the vessel stored?"

“ Not for more than two days’ cruise."

“ Here is gold. You have a companion with you,

“Yes, air; and out of a berth."

“ He shall have one- I will make vou my first luff,
your friend my second' call him, please."

In answer to the call of Merton Ainslie, a young
man stepped on deck, and, by the light of the cabin
that fell upon him, Merle saw a goodelooking face,
marked by recklessness and dissiplation, and a com-
pact form, under the medium hig t.

This was Merton Ainslie‘s shipmate, Louis Chandeo
leur by name, and a Louisiana Creole, who, with his
companion, had been a midshipman in the na
from which the two had been dismissed for some

coca dc.

Sigace his dismissal Louis Chandeleur had gone
steadily down hill, until he had late served before
the meat in a coaster: but, made of ties mate
Merton Ainslie had been endeavoring to hold his h
up among his peers as a gentleman, for he came of
a ood family et r one.

’Mr. Chan e eur, I intend sailing in the yacht to-

ht, and I wish a rew. I will makeyou my second
0 gar, Ainslie beng my first; will you sail with
me ’1

“Yes sir " promptly answered the young man
alsslging b0 (inestions as to destination or anything
e .

h(mo;th you secure me a crew of ten men within the
I'

“ Y sir- b vi them extra and some
gold igsbsnd." y 8‘ as w'

‘2 Here is gold; I want only good men."

‘ I will et you men who will be saints or devils
as ou des re, sir," and the yo man smiled.

‘ Enough; return here within t e hour with them,
or as soon after as you can. Now, Ainslie, how long
will it take you to st stores?"

“I know a mere ant who lives near here, sir; his
store is onder on the levee. I will rouse him, and

gold w soon bri him to terms."
‘ Very well' I w ll write some lette and meet
outat the per within an hour, with e yacht‘s

s.
“ You and Chandeleur go ashore in m skiff," and
going into the cabin Merle sat down a a rosewood
ed: and for hal an hour was busy writing to those
of the mutineer rew whom he wished to meet him
ingew Orleantseu ntlaiis rgturn.
ealsowro p n renvilleashortnotetell-
ing him he had taken the yacht, but would be back
in the city before very long.
In the meantime the two friends rowed away from
the vessel to the ier, Louis Chandeleur :
“Who is the o d cove, Mort? He talks as t ough
he knew what he was about."
“ He does, Lou and before the my is ended
ou'inay know who he is; now, I can to you noth-

‘ Don’t care, Mat; ar’n‘t inquisitive in the least.
“ His id has e ring of true metal, and he is
lavish w th it, for I’ve got enou h to drown me if I
tumble overboard; must be carefi‘ul.”
“ You must be careful, Lou, not to tumble into a
giree now that you have money. If you come back
runk the captain would set on ashore."
“ Don't doubt it, Mert; w take careof that.
“I’m going to Palpito’s cabaret, and I can get
there a crew of Frenchmen, Spaniards, Americans
and West India niggers—if the ca tain wants ‘em to
up-anchor, furl top-sails and the e, all he‘s got to
do is to damn ‘em and they‘ll do ltd for they know
ust what to do when they get from the quar-

r-deck.

“I found this out in my last cruise to Honduras;
such a crew saves much talking and a few ouw: to
the padre will save his soul as tar as the swearing

oes.
:J“r§othing like it when you want anything done,
8 .it
“Which, Lou, the swearing or the onset!“
“ Both‘ what cursing won t do, gold will.

“But ust to think, awhile since I was a poem
drable, a glass of can with you; my -
tations noth , in war! ly sessions in goth-

infi which is s ht ‘ tatte and tonal' as ylight
w i show—oh! what a dresser-up of e beggar is
darkness, Mert—"

“Alwa s joking, Lou.”

“1 tin aman ves longer on jokes than ,
Mert; ajoke sounds better on an empty stomach,
and a laugh staves off for an hour the of hun-

er; with patience, a crumb here, a no there, a
fivfima o e,andaomephilosophya,mancanstarve
an not 8 outright.

“ But you changed the idea current of m
thoughts, amigo ,' I was sayig: that I was no longei

 

a mueraolc, but with gold in my lockers, hope in my
heart, and the prospect of a ban voyage.

“ Bu here is the pier; in an hour, or soon after, I
will be ere with m mixed breed of seamen," and
bounding ashore 0 gay young profiigate darted
away upon his mission.

In the time specified Merle was at the wharf with
the aeht‘s two boats, and shortly after, Merton
:3 e appeared, accompanied by a dray well load-

The load was cast off and the driver sent back for
a second load, just as Louis Chandeleur returned
with his crew.

Whatever might be said of the dissimilarity of the
dozen men he brought with him, as regarded their

rsonal appearance, they were all strangely alrke
11 one ticular—drunki

But uis had kept his word, and was sober, and
commenced the practice of his advice to Merton
Ainslie, by cursing the men into the boats when
Merle‘s stern tones soon brought order out of chaos,
and had all on board the yacht, which, ust as the
gra of dawn sippeared over the distant ouse-tops,

liJed swiftly own the river, a five-knot breeze send-
ng her merrily along, and her sails well set in spite
of the drunken crew; but, however intoxicated a true
seamen may be he can generally attend to

When the yacht was out in the Gulf the pline
on board was perfect, for, notwithstanding his all-

Louis Chandeleur was as good a sailor as was
Merton Ainslie, and that was saying no little in his
favor, while asa commander, young as he was, Merle
had few superiors.

As if to favor this waif of fortune, the winds blew
steadily and strong, and the acht was kept under
all the canvas that she could bear, and run into the
harbor of Vera Cruz in what, in those days, before
gamers plied the ocean, was a remarkably short

e.
And still she could have made port a few hours
sooner, had not Merle p ly shortened sail to
make an anchorage after nEhttall.

‘t‘fiMr. Ainslie, I would like to see you, air, in the
ca n."

The yacht was now anchored before the city, and
Merton Ainslie followed Merle into the cabin.

:: Mr. AlnslieE‘I think I can trust you, sir."

Assuredly, r.

“ I came back to Vera Cruz for a special purpose,
and though I make known the circumstance to you,
Iwish it under no circumstances, to be known to
others; 0 on understand?"

“ Perfect , Mr. Grenville."

“ WW - I have an affair of honor to settle
here th Major Vistal Guarena of the Castle San
Juan de Uioa. It will be a rivate matter, for, when
I acce ted his challenge, did not ex t tchave

ouw h meinVeraCrus atthe time c dueiwas

be fought.
" I expect the meeti will be to-morrow, or next
r, and I am goingtothe

day; if not, very soon
hotel to remain.

" If I am not back on the yacht one week from to-
morrow, or you have not heard from me, I will be
dead, and I wish on to return to New Orleans and
report to Captain renvilie.

‘ In the inner drawer of this desk you will find a
Backage addressed to Miss Mildred Monteith, and to
erl wish Jon to deliver it in person for it is of the
greatest v us, and the papers of the utmost im-
pgrtank «3': they are all in this little box and here is

e ey.

“I hope Iwill have no use for the key, sir for I
tirlustn uyo will come out all right," said Merton

as e, w .

“ I expect to, Ainslie, for, without vanity, I may
say I have a quick and sure eye with a pistol, and a
strong arm and a skillful hand with a sword.

“ ave no dread whatever of meeting a foe with
either weapon; but then accidents will sometimes
happen, and 'tis best to be prepared, and I re t,
if, b to-morrow week, I am not here, or you ve
nothteam from me, return to New Orleans in the
yac

“ Here is plenty of old for your expenses, and to
fiy of! the men, b des a good bonus for on and

andeieur. Now, call one of the boats to t e gang-
wfi' to put me on shore."

ertcn Ainslie obeyed the order, and wru his

corlanander’s hand, as he went over the side, in are-

we
In half an hour more Don Leon Merlino, Ranchero.
from Corpus Christi was n on the hotel books,
and that perso e ives of his disguise, was en-
joying a substan al dinner, after having dispatched
a messenger to Major Vista] Guarena to inform him
that, true to his word, he had come back to Vera
for the honor of meetin him in the duello ; nor
was that the o motive at carried him back to
Mexico—he ho to learn from the lips of Don Felipe
Cosala, the Monte Prince, why he had shown such
hatred toward him, when a mere boy, as to slay
thoge who were his protectors, and carry him from
ome.
Merle had determined to hold the Monte Prince an-
swerable for the past.

 

CHAPTER XXXVII.
nasal
“ MY God! was man ever tern t
teghpted, dig man evert resist i“p earth“, And thus
e c , or a was,
Merton 2y I cry came rom the lips of
He was seated in the cabin of the yacht, the com-
panionm locked and before him is an open box.
Hrs h rested in his hands, and big face was hag-
ga’rrii1 anidavhite. 1 w
e e vesse was ding swifti alo havin
gagged the sunny land of Mexico est/eray anfe'w hourg

Then, when the frown turrets of the San Juan
de Uioa were no longer bie, Merton Ainslie had
left the deck in charge of Louis Chandeleur and
“mm . p...

g uc yrom isseat,he to to
and fro, walk extendin tree but a few
steps; but he cared not for 51st.

“ I more than did what he asked," he muttered;

I waited ten day: instead of one week, and upon
going to the he i they told me he had gone out a
week before one evenin , and had never returned.
Heisdeadi Iknowhe dead,poorfeilowi ‘

 

“ W there lies my temptation to do wrong, and
I am yie ding."

He took up a bundle of papers as he spoke and
glanced over them.

“ These tell the story of where the guilt lay in that
mutiny, and he ‘ves the address of each one of the
seamen who w swear to the truth of his statement;

ould to God he had lived to have brought: Wilber
Sebastian to justice, and then I would not ve been
so tern ted.

“If s e reads thesepa rs, shewill see that he is
innocent—ay, if she the papers, firm must go
with them.”

Ashe spoke he held 11 in his hand the diamond
necklace and ruby anc or already known to the
re r.
“ These are alone enough to tempt a saint, and I
never was even good.

“Then his dirk, with its gem studded hilt in the
shape of an anchor, and the gold scabbard with its
precious stones!

“ And this ring! Holy N tune! what a stonei

“ Lucifer, pathize wi me, for thou didst fall
from heaven hell.”

Again he sprung to his feet and paced the room
for a lo time. to once more resume his seat.

“Had never met her to know her, the generous
allowance of gold he left to square accounts would
have been enough for me; but, Mildred Monteith,
your ravishing beauty is what tempts me tothis sin.

“ Pardieu.’ , ah, woman as in the days of
Adam, art at a temptress. Yes, Mildred Monteit ,
I love you so deep] , that I lose my soul to gain you.
th“ Hal hall ha! t esejfihvels, disposeiidgf tgerougg

egras glsraeli vemego ar you
the w th of MfldretdgMon th.

“ Then, with riches at my command, I will seek
and win on, proud beau : for I will sympathize
with you the ignominy 0 him whom you trusted.
You must never know that he was innocent; for,
thus kno , you would revere his memory. No,
you must )1 him, even dead, and then I can work
on your heart with betterh of success.

“ Let me see—the gems in e scabbard of this dirk
shall first; tbs? will get me a handsome home in
the e of the , furnish it luxuriously, and fit
me out with horses and carriages; besides, now I
look at them again, they should rtrn the establish-
ment for several months.

“ Merton Ainslie, you are a made man! No more
tar—stained fin rs—no more weary deck watches—
no more two- c dinners, with cloudy claret to
wash down tough steaks.

“ No my boy, you will feast on the fat of the land,
and take to your heart the most beautiful girl in New

:- eans.

“Well whats change! From a poor sailortoa
rich swell about town.

“‘And all thrown into my hands without the ask-

‘Be still, accursed conscience. How dare you
raise grim specters before my diamond-blind e es,
for can I see through the sparkling beauty of t ese
precious stones?

“ No, n0' but I wish all had been diamonds. These
are eme dsin this gold sca bard and they mean,
perhaps, I am green for fall! as I do when temlpted '
axnd fig titre poem thgsefl wthat M’ dred

on a pearl on ce, or nning.

“And these rubies! theypare red, and blood is

red.
“Bah! why do I shudder!

“ And here is a superb 0 in the headcf this dirk
hilt, and ‘tis said that o bri misfortune—and
it’s cur-sediy suggestive a dirk t—a pointed re-

minder perha£a

“Well. the e is cast, and heregoesl I accept the
alternative, come what may." ‘

C y he placed the precious stones back in
their receptacle, returned to the inner drawer of the
desk, an locking it, carefully put the key away
from sight.

The pers he then rolled up in a package, and as-
to the deck.

Watching his 0 portunity when no one was look-

t eminto he sea.

Mort, fell0w, on are as white as the ghost of
your randmother- he death of the capltgln has un-
nerv you," said uis Chandeleur, jo ng him, as
the roll of papers sunk from sight beneath the blue
waters.

“Yes, Iam not well, and I was greatly attached
to the ca tain."

“ And e yellow fever carried him 01!? Yellow
Jack will et the best of strangers, whenever they

come to t rt; was be sick long?"

“ Not io , u; but he left the men treble what
they ed for, and you and I get a cool thou.
sand a iece."

" t Jonah‘s whalei I will be a millionaire on a
small sale.

“ t me see; I’D dine at the eSaiMLom'J. and
if my worthy uncle, Simon Levy, not disposed of
my watch and chain, and sundry other articles that
go to make u a gentleman’s wardrobe, I will cut a
swell on the ac Boyale."

“ Lou, stop our nonsense and listen to me."

“All atten on, Mert."

“ You are poor?”

“ As a church~mouse—until I get that thousand

“ Hush! will you make me a romise, if I put you
in the way of m a forttrne "

“ I’ll make on a ousand promises, Mert."

“ No, two do, and if you pledge yourself sacred.
ly to keep those I will do something handsome by
you when we return to the city."

“The promise, Mort, for you seem in earnest."

“ I am in earnest; you have two vices."

“ Now you are joking; there are not two that I have
not laid up against me.’ _

“ You are notas bad as that; but you wrll drink
and mbie."

“ act! I lose my wits by the former, and my
money b the latter."

I; You vs a mother and sister who love you,
n.9,

Tiligyotung manf’s face 1 %lor at farce!“ 1e

“ n‘speakomy ro mo erano e,
Mert; I have disgracesogheirname lo'ng since; it is
the one arrow in my heart. "

“Then it is time you began reform.”

‘1‘ Satan rebuking sin,“ said Lou, in a mischievous
vo co.

 

White’s-m.

_ , ..... —-
0

3O

Merle, The Mutineer.

‘

 

“I know it, and that shot hits harder than you
have any idea, Lou; but we can all reach to others,
while our own lives are stained. ever mind; prom-
ise me, u n our sacred word of honor, and by the
love you $2.1; for your mother and sister, that on
will never ain drink to intoxication or gamble. ‘

“ I swear t, Mert; I have not tasted liquor since I
left New Orleans, and I do not feel the need of it
now. As for gambling, I have thrown mone away
at cards that should have bought bread or my
mother and sister; but, tell me, Merton Ainslie, where
did you find a gold-mine?”

It was another random shot that hit home and the
one to whom it was addressed colored and turned
awa , while he said, pleasantly:

“ y gold-mine is perspective, Lou; you know
I have a rich uncle in New York, who is an old
bachelor?”

“That‘s so; is the old man in ill-health? I ask
from no idle curiosit of course."

“ A letter, receive ere I left, stated he was not in
his usual ood health, and (you know I am his on]
heir," an no more was sai on the subject then; bu ,
when the yacht let fall her anchor before the citg
of New Or Merton Ainslie, after payi o
the crew and giving to Louis Chandeleur his t ou-
sand dollars. found an important letter awaiting him
from a New York lawyer.

Eagerly he broke the seal and read of the death of
his uncle and that he was his sole heir.

“Worth but thirt thousand dollars—subject to
mydraft in bank— thought he was worth much
more; but, what care I now!

“ Had it been five times thirt , and I had not de-
stroyed those pagers, I mi h have resisted the
temptation to— h! it is oolish for me to talk
thus; am here is an affix to the letter—I read care-

ter reading what had before escaped his eye, he
coutinued:

“Thi': gives me twent thousand more, if I desire
to take that price, cash, or the mansion, and which
cannot be worth much more.

“Yes, I’ll write at once, taking the price offered,
and now I will not have to touch the Jewels for some
time; let me see, I must keep my word to Lou, and
shall buy a fine brig, give him a half share in it and
make him captain—that will ease conscience
considerably, for I owe it to him, as I ntend to give
Fidele up, now that Mildred Monteith is my game.

“ She must only think I had a friendly, no, I’ll call
it a brotherly, regard for her and my generosit to
her brother will easil make r forget any air ion
she held for me, for know she does love me just a
little: she has said so."

A few moments more Merton Ainslie paced the
deck of the acht, and then, all duties having been
attended to e landed and drove to the home of Mil-
dred Monte th.

As he rung at the massive portal for admission, he
muttered:

“ Great God! must I meet that woman with a lie
on mv lips?

“Yes, the Rubicon is passed now; I cannot step
backward.

“ ow, Merton Ainslie, smother the of con-
science, and put on the mask ou must henceforth
wear through life—the mask 0 a man of honor to
hide the heart and face of a criminal. Oh! what
will not both man and woman do for love?"

The opening of the heavy portal made him start
guiltily; but, controlling his emotion, he 
within the court, and the door closed behind .
ghogtlting him out forever from a life of true man-

He'had roven false, utterly false, to the trust
placed in by Merle.

CHAPTER XXXVIIL
some ran wnvn.

Wars Merton Ainslie promised to aid Louis Chan-
deleur. it was no idle boast, for he was anxious to do
so, as he had always liked the gay youth and it was
his havings ted the wild escapada that had re-
sulted in their dismissed from the navy.

Another motive had Merton Ainslie for his friend-
shiigédand that was the sweet Fideie, the blonde-
h , blue-eyed sister of Louis Chandeleur, who,
with her mother lived in a small cottage in the out-
skirts of New Or cans.

This little cottage with its acre of und, Jemima,
F‘idele's old nurse, Gabriel, the bus d of the ne-
Erees, Biucher the horse, the cow, and half a

undred chickens, were all the worldly possessions
that Mrs. Chandeleur could boast of; once it had
been differen but the wild career of Louis, his
scrapes and ravagances had dwindled away the
inheritance, until the widow and her daughter had
come down to the little home near the cit ; here,
with the aid of the needle of the mother, an paint-
brush of F‘ldele, who was no mean artist the two
barer secured acomfortable living, while the sea -

e son and brother spent his days in riotous 
EEZand short cruises to get wine and card-money.
fore going with Ca tain Grenville upon the
yacht, Merton Ainslie h held a position as super-
cargo of a New Orleans vans set, and
when in the former always passed h evenin
at the cottage home 0 the widow, and try to dg
ise it as e Would inhis own mind, e had leved
dele, and the two were e ed.

Through the kind word 0 a riend his destin led
him on board the yacht and before the b lant
beauty of Mildred Monteith, the sweet face of Fidele
faded away. ’

still the oung man might have been true to his
first I ave not the terrible temptation beset him
after he left Merle in Vera Cruz, and carried back
with him an immense fortune in recious stones.

Before the flashes of these, an under the remem-
brance of Mildred’s beauty, added to an almost cer-
tainty that his deed would never be discovered,
Merton Ainslie fell from grace.

When he entered the portal of the Monteith man-
sion, he asked for Mildred.

She wasin and alone, Captain Grenville and his

wife havi returned to the plantation, and Wilber
Sebastian ad taken u his quarters at the Hotel
to torwsstold,sndhssent up

Saln Louis;sothe
card.

 

When Merton Ainslie entered the room into which
he was ushered, to await the comin of the fair
firmer of the mansion, he glanced searcme around

in.

It was a rece tion-parlor, and furnished in the
most expensive uxury, containing every article that
could cater to both taste and comfort, for the Men-
teiths had come down from father to son as born
millionaires, and Mildred had been the one upon
whom at last the golden mantle had fallen.

The magnificence of his surroundings almost took
his breath away, accustomed as Merton Ainslie had
been to move in good society, and he gazed spell-
bound upon the broad mirrors in massive frames

littering with gold and silver; the go ousness of
are velvet draperies of the two tall win ews a demo:
battans, o ening upon a balconyl that overlooked the
rden; t e costly girandoies, t e Ottomans, the au-
il, and the oriental velvet covered [on of lue
velvet to match the curtains, and trlmm with gold
and silver fringe half a foot deep; the marble pier-
tables with their costly porcelain vases, the rare-
bound volumes scattered around as if for use and
not to be looked at onl ; the choice and costly
paintings hanging from t e tinted walls, and many
other little ele ncies too numerous to particularize
caused the via tor to take a solemn oath there an
then that he would yet be lord and master over that
grand old home.

Onl one of the cressets in the gold and crystal
chan elier was lighted; but it ave light sufficient
for Merton Ainslie to take a g view of himself in
the full length mirrors and mental] decide that he
was lookin his best, the paleness 0 his face, called
up b the aring and dangerous game Ihe was (fin -
ing, ut adding more at raction to his deci edry
handsome features.

U on the yacht, during the voyage to Havana and
bac , Mildred had seen in Merton Ainslie a fine look-
ing oun sailor, in duck pants, blue sh rt and tar-

au in, w 0 was ever most polite and attentive to

er, and whom she had heard was brought up a gen-
tlemen and a naval offcer, from which latter gosi-
tion his crop of “ wild oats," when reaped, ha se-
cured his dismissal.

Now, as she entered the room, she beheld an ele-
gantly attired man, with dark, bronzed face and ear-
nest eyes, who, with the air of a courtier, came for-
ward and bowed before her.

Mildred knew the young sailor had gone with
Merle and she extended her hand kindly:

“ elcome back, Mr. Ainslie; Iam glad to see you.
Be seated, please."

Merton Ainslie quietly obeyed, and Mildred con-

inu .

" I feel that you have news for me, Mr. Ainslie,
from one whom I may as is our mutual friend?"

“ Miss Monteith i” and here was somethin fore-
bodin in the calm voice; “ Miss Monteith, have
fiend or you, and from one who was our mutual

en ."

“ Was I do I understand ariifiht, sir? Have you, too,
turned against Merle Gren e? '

There was a flash in the eyes that Merton Ainslie
did not at all like; but he continued:

“ I was as true as steel to Mr. Grenville, dear lady,
until he proved his own enemy.“

“I do not understand f" faintly said Mildred.

“ I will ex lain as well as i can. I left here in the
yacht with r. Grenville, the last night of carnival,
and we ran to Vera Cruz arriving there at night.

“From him I learned that it was his ob ect to se-
cure there some important witnesses in is favor,
but I have since learned that such was not the case.’

“Mr. Ainslie, remember well your words, sir—you
accuse Mr. Grenville of falsehood," and the sweet
voice was threatening.

“ I make no 0 es, Miss Monteith. Mr. Grenville
left the yacht at era Cruz ng with him a
number of articles which he had gotten in New 0r-

leans.

“He told me he would return in two da s, and
when the third came round and I saw not in of
him, I set forth in search, leaving Mr. Chand eur
and the crew on the yacht.

“ After careful search I returned, convinced of one
thing—that Mr. Grenville had felt his inability to
give the lie to the charges nst him, and had
ea ed himself withacrew of exican buccaneers."

‘ . Ainslie, take those words back and I will be

our slave. For the love of God do not tell me that
Merle Grenville is really the gullty bei men call
him, and, lost to all honor, has leagued self with

iratesi I entreat, I beseech you, Merton Ainslie

take back our words!" and the beautiful girl
dropped upon er knees before the man, and stretch-
ed“ orth her jeweled hands.

Rise, Miss Monteith! This is not your place. I
should kneel to you, never you to me.

“ Would to God I could retract what I have said,"
he cried, earnestly, and he meant it, for the deep
grief of the maiden moved him strangely.

“It is true then?"

Mildred sprung quickly to her feet and faced him
—<|ieadiy pale, er bosom heaving, but perfectly
ca m

“ It is true; I tracked him to the rendezvous of the
Sirates, and di sin myself as one of the band, I
iscovered that e h already sailed with a picked
crew to Havana, for the 'urpose of stealing away
the beatitlful Cuban mai en, whom he had served
years before, and who loved him deep] —I refer to
he one who aided his escape from the on).

“It was said that he intended to bring herback
with him as Queen of the Buccaneers.

" U n returning to the yacht at Vera Cruz, I
foun this note awaiti me. ‘

Merton Ainslie drew rorn his pocket a crumpled
note, and handed it to the maiden.

She glanced over it and while a curl of scorn rest-

edu nherli re in whatappeared to be the
hamlwrltingo Merle:

“Ma. Mamas Antsmn,
“ Yacht Snow Cloud,
“ Vera Cruz Harbor .-

“Sra:-—Return in the yacht to New Orleans, and
report to Ca tain Grenville, if there; if not, run
round the Bulge to his plantation home and there
leave the vessel, or do as he orders for, from the re-
ception of this note, you are no longer under my
comma .

“ an inner drawer of my desk you will find gold

 

sufficient to pay ourself and crew, and for expen-
ses, and I leave to Ivirou to settle.

“Having accomplis ed the object of my visltto
Vera Cruz, 1 will remain here to cast my lot with
those brave spirits among whom my earlier years
were .

“ us let me die before the world—a cruel world
that will brand me ever now as mutineer, deserter

an & te.

“ let it be-I am content.

“Within an inner compartment of my desk you
will find a ring—a sohtaire diamond, set in a band of
solid red gold. .

“Take this ring to Miss Mildred Monteith, Rue St.
Louis, New Orleans, and tell her this is a souvenir of
Freelance, the Buccaneer, and his son, Merle, the
Mutineer.

“Should we meet on the rolling blue waves, Ains-
lie, for you are a sailor I will remember you as you
carry out my injunctions with this ring and the
yacht—obey, and the black folds of my 11
never cast shadow on you; fail me, and I wi hunt
you to the end of the earth—ay, to the nethermost
abyss of hell.

“Manna, m Oumw."

This very peculiar e stle Merton Ainslie had con-
cocted from what he ad found in the papers sent to
Mildred, wherein he had told her that he was the son
of Freelance the Buccaneer, to whom the ri had
beion ed, and which he had inherited from fa-
ther ong with the necklace, anchor and dirk.
knBut more than this of his past, Merle had not made

own.

Carefully did the young man watch the maiden as
she slowly read the to ed letter' but her face was
emotionless; save for ts marb like 'paleness it
would be thou ht she did not sufler.

“ The ring, i you lease, Mr. Ainslie.”

He quietly hand it to her, and she placed it upon
her marriage-finger.

" It is exceedingly handsome; the finest stone I
ever slaw, and I have occasionally seen Mr. Grenville
wear t.

“ He had it on the night of the but masque, I recall
now.

“ I thank you Mr. Ainslie, from my heart I thank
vou, for all on have done for me, and I am going to
lbeg 'that w t has occurred may never pass your

“gilfi’everi I shall hold all inviolate, Miss Mon-

“Again I thank on; this ring I will kee and
wear—the stone will kee me in mind of how and a
man‘s heart ma he, an how adamantine awoman’s
may become. at! going? Come and see me
agaiDIV‘

Merton Ainslie ped the little hand in ing
and left the mansfaa put ’

Once out in the street he muttered:

“That is over and well done too. Ha me! she
took the ring! I expected she would it under
her feet, or refuse to touch it: but, never mind, I
have Plen left, and I'll get it back when she's my
wife or I ad a falling for that stone.

“ ow cool she was too! did not seem to care.
Well, women are curiosities in petticoats " and he
walked gayllg alon , not knowin that Mildred had
fallen her f l leng h upon the ve vet carpet as soon
as his back was turned, and then lay unconscious in
her beautiful room.

CHAPTER XXXIX.
m can: anon was smart.

Son weeks after the visit of Merton Ainslie to
Mildred Monteith, Mrs. Chandeleur and Fidele sat in
the cone sitting~room of their cottage talka to-

ether 0 the absent Louis, from whom they b not
card for several months.

The mother was a tall, slender, sad-eyed woman of
fifty, with the seal of disease stamggd upon her face,
for she was slowly fading away, t ugh neither she
nor her daughter sus it.

Fidele was a fairy- e little beauty, with a face of
sunshine that was often like an April sky, as clouds
of snow mept over it.

There was a look of resolution in her mouth, and
an intensity of on in her dark-blue eyes, which
at times were a 0st black.

Her figure was petite, and well-formed, and her

dress titted her to dperfection-a creamy lawn, made ,
s

with her own han .

At her side stood an easel and upon it was a half-
finished portrait, which was near enough com leted
to reco ize the original as being Merton Al e.

“I w h Merton would return, mother, for well as
I know his face, there are some lines I do not recall
about the mouth 1“

The widow looked up and smiled: to finish the por.
trait was not the only reason Fidele desired the re-
turn of Merton—she wished him ever by her.

“He will soon be back, I hope, Fidele. for I long to
see if he cannot find out for us where Louis is; l
N311? anxious about him," said the mother,
sa .

“find so am I, ma men: I do wish Lou would
stop his wild life, and become a true man, as he can

“ Speak of the Devil and his im will a pear."

The voice was cheery, and hot recogn ed it. be-
fore Louis Cbandeleur darted into the room, kissed
his nli‘other and gave his sister half-s—dozen loud
smac s.

“ That mocks of the sea, hey, sis! Well, I am glad
to get home,” and the truant threw himself down
into an easy-chair. and then, for the first time in his
lifeé 1observed the thin face and sickly pallor of his
mo er.

“ It is I that have done this! Well, all is over
now," be mentally ejaculated and his face wore a
smile that those, who so fondly loved him, had not
seen there for several years.

The chan e for the better in Louis Chandeleur was

tively s rtling; his face was bronzed by the sea,
at then its bloated and red loo
eyes were bright and clear.

He was dressed in an undress half-uniform suit of
dark blue. and were a cap with agold cordacross the
visow 1;, wgueflrna dismoiidtgncgoir breastf pin, presemcnted

m screw 0 e -o -war onw h
had beenya middy, for as thge llf be

e f —
glittered in his immaculate irt~front,oan:i $12953»

 

k had gone, and the '

 

‘ ""‘rih’:f":’“i—:5r 

I‘v'fi

 

 

«94.

5&1

< carve,—

‘—
.J‘FA-ru-vx

 

 

. A... A.“

 

 

 

Merle, The Mutineer.

31

 

 

chain hun from the fob, two articles the mother had
not seen or many a lon day, and which they had
looked upon among the t ’ngs that were.

“ Louis, my boy, you seem most happy; I am glad
to see you looking so well," said Mrs. Chandeieur,
with a sad remembrance of how often he came home,
flushed with wine, seedy in dress, and reckless.

“I am happy, mother' I am as gay as a sea-gull
after a ship cuit and I have cause to be; but, do
not watch me so, sister mine, for I am not, as usually
is the case, drunk; sur ma parole d'hom/eur, chere
{gear I” he said, as she glanced somewhat anxiously at

In.

“ N o more cabarels for me; no more rioting and
carrlrplaying, for I have said to vices ‘ giet thee behind
me, Satan,” and they got ,' so I'm ahea .

“ But to take a reef in m tongue and come down
to a steady breeze—I am 7- ch .'".
ad“ Rich!’ echoed both voices, while the mother

ded:

“If you are good, Louis, as you so you are, I will
care far more han if you were wort thousands."

“ I am both, mother; now listen and I will tell

on all.
y “The last night of Carnival I wasa par/ore (liable,
sipping a glass of wine with Merton Ainslie in the lit-
tle 'acht his good luck had got him command of,
an a good angel drifted across our bows, in the
shape of an old gentleman, who gave me a berth as
second lutf with im to Vera Cruz.

“ But there Yellow Jack "—Merton Ainslie had
told all others, except Mildred Monteith, that the yel-
low fever had caused the death of Merle—“ got hold
of the good old man, and he left Ainslie to run the
craft back, gave the crew treble wages, and Mert and
m self a cool thousand dollars.

‘Arriving in port here, we found the owner of the
yacht had gone to his home on the lake shore, and
we collected the crew and took the vessel there.

“ When we came back strange things had happen-
ed, for Merton Ainslie’s old uncle in ew York lad
died leaving him an enormous fortune—what is the
matter, sis?”

“I am so glad for Merton, brother."

“Yes, yes u n the (princi le of ‘ with all my
worldly g s thee en ow,’ a, ha! But I won t
tease you, Fidele, but lglonon with my story.

“ Now, Mertshowed ‘ self the true man he is, and
kept a promise he made me if I would give up the
two worst of my many vices—which was to set me

up in business.

“ Three days he gave me in hand fifteen thou-
sand dollars, te ng me to go and pick out the best
vessel lcould find, and purchase it which I did in
short order, securin a brigantine of splendid carry-

ca acity, some ve hundred tons burden, and a
w tch or ' ' .

“She had to go at forced sale and I got- her for
twelve thousand down, and she is in trim for sea
without extra ex nse.

“Mert then tol me to get a suitable crew, and I
secured a half a score seamen, two mates, a cook
and cabin-boy, making fourteen all told.

“ Then 1 0t some little barkers—"

“Little w at, m son?”

“Barkers! bull l sixes! 0h, bother it all, can-
non, mother; six of t em and a Long Tom, an eight-
een.”

2230’ L019“ ?" thati i hte d large

ong om— s an e een- an or
gun. Thus the crew is made? up, unpri) the vessel
com‘glllete."

“ (1 you are to be captain, Louis?"

“Captain, ay, mother, and owner, too, for Merton
first gave me a half share in the brigantine and I ac—
tually swooned away; when I came back to con-
sciousness he gave me the whole vessel and all, and

~ d1 .

“ Oh, Louisl“
“ Oh, m son 1"
It was i that the mother and daughter could say
in their astonishment and joy.

After a lance at the faces of his sister and mother,
Louis wen on in the same oil-hand manner:

“It‘s a fact, dead sure! I am now C’u ain Louis
Chandeleur. of the b ntine Fidele, und from
New Orleans to Monte ideo, for my vessel is now
loading for that  with a cargo of which I am
one-tit h owner, or ert turned over the balance of
the fifteen thousand to me, and I invested most of
it; but I leave you, mother and Fidele, the one
thousand which got in my cruise on the yacht,"
and the young sailor counted out the golden eagles
from his belt, at the same time enjoying the surprise
of his most attentive lookers-on.

At length the mother sadi asked:

“When do on sail, Louis."

“ In three a mother."

“ S0 soon? nd how long will you be away?"

“ Six months, I expect, perhaps longer though, as
I shall bring back a cargo."

“ And Merton, where is he?” asked Fidele.

“Bus as m uncle Simon—I mean busy as a pawn-
broker In du times. You see he is bug?“l an ele-
gant house u town and furnishing it Inel ,
and with ca ages, horses and servants, he inten
to cut a swell."

Fidele blushed: she felt she knew the bird he was
preparing his cage for.

A as poor girl, she knew not how frail was the na-
ture of mask ndl

And yet, Joy had again come to the hearts of Mrs.
Chandeleggk and her dapgthtermtnd the tvglo kinelt
10 at t rs a , nuns egg
uggn the head) 0? the noblglfrlend who had m 9
them so happy, and praying that the wandering son
and brother might never more go astray.

Ah, gentle reader, what poor blind mortals we all
are in this world; and yet happy was it for a while
that the vision of the mother and hter was
the b ht rays of hope

ug
obscured by for they saw not
the clouds gathe ngaround the horizon of their
anticipations, to cast in loom their sunny skies, for
gold ofttimes brings wit it a bitter, lasting curse,
and none there are who ever find gold without

alloy.

But what the future held for them and the other
characters of my romance of “Merle the Mutineer,“
will be told in the sequel. entitled “ Momzm rm:
Mama: on. Anna MANY Lose Yuns."

Norm—The above mentioned sequel to “ Merle the
#utilnoier," will follow immediately in Dnm Lamar

o.

 

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ll‘i’ierman of l‘rlederich De La Motto Foghue: 10c.

or sale by all newsdeale or out.
on receipt of twelve cent: {0: mil? $531 :2,
double numbers twenty-four cents. '
ADAMS, VICTOR & 00.. Publishers.
98 William street, N. Y.

 

' Dialo

 

BBADLE & ADAMS’

STANDARD DI_M_E__P|lBlICATIONS.
Speakers.

BnADLE AND ADAIIs have now on their lists the fol-
lowing highly desirable and attractive text-books,
prepared expre for schools, families, etc. Each

volume contains 1 large es, printed from clear,
Open t , comprisin t e collection of Die-
logues ramas and itations, (burle ue, comic

and ot erwise.) The Dime Speakers for he season
of 1890—as faras now issued—embrace twenty-three

volumes, viz.:
1. American Speaker. 13. School Speaker.

12. Exhibition Speaker. 23. Di ectS ker.

These books are replete with choice games for the
School-room, the Ex ibition, for Homes, etc. They
are drawn from mass sources, and contain some of
the choicest oratory of the times. 75 to 100 Declama-
tions and Recitations in each book.

Dialogues.

The Dime Dialogues. each volume 100 pages, em-
brace twenty-six books, viz.:
Dialogues N 0. One. Dialogues No. Fourteen.
Dialogues No. Two. Dialogues No. Fifteen.
Dialogues No. Three. Dialogues No. Sixteen.
Dialogues No. Four. Dialogues No. Seventeen.
Dialogues No. Five. Dialogues No. Eighteen
Dialogues No. Six. Dialogues No. Nineteen.
Dialogues NO. Seven. Dialogues N o. Twenty.
Dialogues No. Eight. Dialogues N o. Twenty-one.
Dialogues No. Nine. Dialogues No. Twenty-two.
Dialogues No. Ten. Dialogues No. Twenty-three
Dialogues No. Eleven. Dialogues No. Twenty-four.
Dialogues No. Twelve. Dialogues No. Twenty-five.

es No. Thirteen. Dialogues No. Twenty-six.
1 to 25 Dialo es and Dramas in each book.

These volumes ave been pre red with especial
reference to their availabihty n all school-rooms.
They are adapted to schools with or without the fur-
niture of a stage, and introduce a range of charac-
ters suited to scholars of every grade, both male and
female. It is fair to assume that no vollunes yet
offered to schools, at any price, contain so many
available and useful dialogues and dramas, serious
and comic.

Dramas and Readings.
164 l2mo Pages. 23 Cents.

For Schools, Parlors, Entertainments and the Am-
ateur Stage, comprisin Original Minor Dramas,
Comedy, Farce, Dress 'eces, Humorous Dialogue
and Burlesque, by noted writers: and Recitations
and  new and standard, of the atcst
celebrity an interest. Edited by Prof. A. M. ussell.

DIME HAND-BOOKS.
Young Poop—113’s Series.

BEADLs‘s Dun: HAND-Booxs FOR YOUNG PEOPLE
cover a wide range of subjects, and are especially
adapted to their end. They constitute at~once the
cheapest and most useful works yet put into the
market for popular circulation.

Ladies‘ Letter-Writer. Book of Games.
Gents' Letter-Writer. Fortune-Teller.

Book of Etiquette. Lovers” Casket.

Book of Verses. I Ball-room Companion.
Book of Dreams. Book of Beauty.

Hand-Books of Games.

BEADLE’s Dues HAND-BOOKS or Guns AND POPULAR
HAND-Boone cover a variety Of subjects, and are es-
pecially adagted to their end.

dbook of Summer Sports.
Book of Croquet. Yachting and Rowing.

2. National Speaker. 14. Ludicrous Speaker.
3. Patriotic Speaker. 15. Komikal Speaker.
4. Comic Speaker. 16. Youth’s Sgeaker.
5. Elocutionist. 17. El uent geaker.
6. Humorous Speaker. 18. Hai Colum ia Speak
7. Standard Speaker. er. I
8. Stump Speaker. 19. Serio-ComIc Speaker.
19. Juvegélriggpeaker. k  Spigect S ker.
0. S re - eS er . nny peaker.
11. nge Debater. pea 22. Joll Speaker.
pea

 

 

Chess Instructor. Riding and Driving.

Cricket and Football. Book of Pedestrianism.

Guide to Swimming. BaseBall Player for 188).
Handbook of 'inter Sports.

Manuals for Housewives.
BEADLs's Dru: FAMILY SEIuns aims to supply a
class of text-books and manuals fitted for every per-
son‘s use—the old and the young the learned and

the unlearned. They are of con ed value.

. 000‘ Book. 4. FamilyPh cian.

2. Recipe Book. Dressm and Mi]-
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Lives of Great Americans
Are presean complete and authentic biographies
of man of the men who have added luster to the
tI’lepubl c by their lives and deeds. The series em-

races: ’

I.—George Washington. VII—David Crockett.
II.—-John Paul Jones. VIE—Israel Putnam.
Ill—Mad AnthonyWayne IX.—Kit Carson.
IV.--Ethan _Allen. X. —Tecumseh.
V.—Marquls de Lafay- XI.-—Abraham Lincoln.
XII—Pontiac.

ette.
VL—Daniel Boone. XIII—Ulysses S. Grant.

SONG BOOKS.

thBIgllfiLs’s Dnn: Solrigclaooxs Nos. 1 to 88, containing

e pular no on o co yright so t be

found n he market. p as: o
Melodist.
School Melodist,

JOKE BOOKS.
Pocket Joke Book. Jim Crow Joke Book.

} Music and Words.

Paddy Whack Joke Book.
The above publications for sale by all newsdealenl

or will be sent. - aid on i t
BEADLE & Angliat Es wmfifl N?§Pfl°e' by

 

 

 

 

 

BEADLE’S

DIME

 

- or HOUNsww HEATS.

 

32 Large Three-Column Pages.

1. A Hard Crowd : OR, GENTLEMAN
SAE’S SISTER. By Philip S. Warne.

2. The Dare-Devil: OR, TEE WINGED
WITCE 0F TEE SEA. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.

3. Kit Carson, J r., TEE CRACK SEOT or
THE WEST. By Buckskin Sam.

4. The Kidnapper: OR, THE GREAT
SEANGEAI or TEE NORTHWEST. By Philip S. Warne.

5. The Fire-Fiends: 0R, HERCULES, TEE
HUNCEEACE. By A. P. Morris.

6. Wildcat Bob, TEE Boss BRUISER;
0R, TEE BORDER BLOODEOUNDs. By Ed. L. Wheeler.

7. Death-Notch, TEE DESTROYER; OR,
TEE SPIRIT LAEE AVENGEES. By 011 Coomes.

8. TheHeadless Horseman. Astrange
story of Texas. By Capt. Mayne Reid.

9. Handy Andy. By Samuel Lover.

10. Video , TEE FRENCH POLICE SPY.
Written by himse .

1 1. Midshipman Easy. By Capt. Mar-
ryat.

12. The Death-Shot: OR, TRAan To
DEATE. By Capt. Mayne Reid.

13. Pathawag: OR, NICE WHIFFLES, TEE
OLD TRAPPED. or TEE oaTEWEST. By Robinson.

14. Thaiendane a TEE SCOUROE -
OR, TEE WAR- OLE or mgfiodAWKS. Ned Buntlinez

15. The Tiger-Slayer: OR, EAGLE-
HEAD To TEE RISCUE. By Gustave Aimard.

16. TheWhite Wizard: OR, THE GREAT
PROPEET or TEE SEEINOLIE. By Ned Buntline.
17. Nightshade, TEE ROBEER PRINCE

By Dr. J. H. Robinson.

18. The Sea Bandit: OR, TEE QUEEN
OF TEE ISLE. By Ned Buntline.

19. Red Cedar, TEE PRAIRIE OUTLAW.
By Gustave Aimard.

20. The Bandit at Bay: OR, TEE PI-
RATES or TEE PRAIRIES. By Gustave Almard,

21. The Trapper’s Dau hter: 0R,
TEE OUTLAw’s FATE. By Gustave A mard.

22. Whitelaw: OR NATTIE OF THE LAKE
SEORE. By Dr. J. H. Robinson.

23. The Red Warrior: 0R, STELLA
DELOREE‘S COEANCEE LOVER. By Ned Buntline.

24. Prairie Flower. By Gustave Ai-
mard, author of “ Tiger-Slayer.” etc.

25. The Gold-Guide: 0R, STEEL ARE,
TEE REGULATOR. By Francis Johnson.

26. The Death-Track: OR, TEE OUT-
LAWS or TEE MOUNTAIN. By Francis Johnson.

27. The otter-Detective: 0R, TEE
GIRLS or NEW ORE. By Albert W. Aiken.

28. Three-Fingered Jack. THE ROAD-
AOENT or TEE ROCKIES. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr.

29. Dick. TEE FARO KING; or,
TEE CASEIEa’s CRIEE. By Philip S. Warne.

30. Gospel George: or, FIERY FRED,
TEE OUTLAW. By Josep E. Badger, Jr.

81. The New York “Sh :’ 0R, TEE
FLAsE or LIGETNING. By Albert W. iken.

32. B’hoys of Yale: OR, TEE SCRAPES
or A HARD SET or COLLEGIANS. By John D. Vose.
33. Overland Kit. By A. W. Aiken.

34. Rocky Mountain Rob. By Aiken.

85. Kentuck. the Sport. By Aiken.

36. Irfiun Dick. By Albert W. Aiken.

37. Hirl. the Hunchback: OR, TEE
SWOEDEAEEE or TEE SANTEE. By Dr. J. H. Robinson.

88. Velvet Hand: on, TEE IRON GRIP or
INJUN DICE. By Albert W. Aiken.

39. The Russian Sp : OR. THE BROTE-

ERS or TEE STAREY CROSS. By ‘rederick Whittaker.

40. The Haired ‘Pards:' OR,
TEE TART-Ass or TEE LAINS. By Joe. E. Badger. Jr.
41. Gold Dan: OR, TEE WHITE SAVAGE
OE TEE GREAT SALT LAKE. By Albert W. Aiken.

42. The California Detective : 0R,
TEE WITCEEs or NEW YORE. By Albert W. Aiken.

43. DakotaDan, TEE RECKLESS RANGER;
or. TEE BII-HVNTEBS' EXCURSION. By 011 Coomes.

 

 

LIBRARY.

 

 

 

 

44. Old Dan Rackback, THE GREAT
EETARRINATOR. By 011 Coomes.

45. Old Bull’s Eye, TEE LIGETNING
SHOT OF TEE PLAINS. By Joseph E. Badger, JR.

46. Bowie-Knife Ben, THE LITTLE
HUNTER OF‘ TEE NOR'-WEBT. By 011 Coomes.

47. Pacific Pete, TEE PRINCE OF TEE
REVOLVER By Joe. E. Badger. Jr.

48. Idaho Tom, THE YOUNG OUTLAW
or SILVERLAND. By 011 Coomes.

49. The Wolf Demon; or, TEE QUEEN OF
TEE KANAWEA. By Albert W. Aiken.

50. Jack Rabbit, TEE PRAIRIE SPORT;
By J 08. E. Badger, Jr.

51. Red Rob, TEE BOY ROAD-AGENT.
By 011 Coomes.

52. Death Trailer, TEE CHIEF OF
SCOOPS. By Hon. Wm. F. Cody, (Buffalo Bill.)

53. Silver Sam: or, TEE MYSTERY or
Deadme CITY. By Col. Delle Sara.

54. Always on Hand: or, TEE SPORTIVE
SPORT or TEE FOOT HILLS. By Philip S. Warne.

55. The Scalp Hunters. AROIIANCE OF
TEE PLAINS. By Capt. Mayne Reid.

56. The Indian Muefaa: or, TEE
MAD MAN OP TEE PLAINS. By 1 rt W. Aiken.

 

EIT CARSON. JR—No. 8.

57. The Silent Hunter: or, TEE SCOWL
HALL MYSTERY. By Percy B. St. John.

58. Silver Knife: or, WICKLIEEE, TEE
ROCKY MOUNTAIN RANGER. By Dr. J. H. Robinson.

59. The Man From Texas: or, TEE
OUTLAW or AREANEAS. By Albert W. Aiken.

60. Wide Awake; or, TEE IDIOT 0F
TEE BLACK HILLS. By Frank Dumont.

61. Ca tain Seawaif. TEE PRIVATEER.
By Ned Bun line.

62. Loyal Heart: or, TEE TRAPPERS or
ARKANSAS. By Gustave Aimard.

63. The Winged Whale. By Aiken.

64. Double- Si§ht. the Death Shot.
By Joseph E. Badger, r.

65. The Red Rajah: or, TEE SCOGURE
or TEE INDIES. By Captain Frederick Whittaker.

66. The Specter Barque. A TALE
or TEE PACIFIC. By Captain Mayne Reid.
67. The Boy Jockey: or, HONESTY

VERSUS CROOKEDNEss. By Joseph E. Badger. Jr.
88. The Fighting Tra per: or, KIT
CARSON TO THE RESCUE. By Cap . J. F. C. Adams.
69. The Irish Captain: A TALE OE
FONTENOY. By Captain Frederick Whittaker.
70. Hydrabad, TEE STRANGLER; or,
ALETEE, TEE (‘EiLD or TEE CORD. By Robinson.
71. Captain Cool-Blade. or, TEE MAN

SHARE or TEE MISSISSIPPI. By Joe. E. Badger, Jr.

 

Each Number Complete. Price 10 ets.

72. The Phantom Hand. A STORY OF
NEW YOEE HEARTES AND HOMES. By A. W. Aiken.

73. The Knight of the Red Cross;

or, TEE MAGICIAN 0F GRANADA. Dr. J. H. Robinson.

74. Captain of the Rifles. A ROMANCE

or TEE MEXICAN VALLEY. By Captain Mayne Reid.

75. Gentleman George, or, PARLOR,
PRISON, STAGE AND STREET. By Albert W. Aiken.

76. The Queen’s Musketeer, or,
'I‘EIEEE, TEE PRINCESS PALEIST. By George Albony.

77. The Fresh of Frisco. or, THE

HEIRESS or BUENAVENTURA. By Albert W. Aiken.
78. The Mysterious Spy: or, GOLDEN

FEATEER, TEE BUCCANEER‘S DAUGETER. By Grainger.

79. Joe Phenix, TEE POLICE SPY. By
Albert W. Aiken.

80. A Man of Nerve: or, CALIEAN,
TEE DWARP. By Philip S. Warne.

. 81. The Human Tiger; or, A HEART
or FIRE. By Albert W. Aiken.

82. Iron Wrist, the Swordmaster.
By Col. Thomas H. Monstery.

83. Gold Bullet Sport: or, TEE KNIGHT!
or TEE OVERLAND. By Buffalo Bill.

84. Hunted Down: or, TEE WHITE-
WITCE. ByAIbertW. Aiken.

85. The Cretan Rover: or, ZULEIEAE,
TEE BEAUTIFUL. By Col. Prentice Ingraham.

86. The Big Hunter: or, TEE QUEEN
OE TEE WOODS. By the author of “ Silent Hunter."

87. The Scarlet Captain: or, TEE
PRISONER or TEE TOWER. By Col. Delle Sara.

88. Bi Geor , TEE GIANT OF THE
GULCE; or, FIVE w BROTEERE. By Badger.

89. The Pirate Prince: or, PRETTY

NELLY, TEE QUEEN OF TEE ISLE. By Col. Ingraham.

90. Wild Will, THE MAD RANCEERO:
or, TEE TERRIBLE TEXAN. By Buckskin Sam.

91. The Winning Oar: or, TEE INN
EEEPER’S DAUOETER. By Albert W. Aiken.

92. Bud'an Bill. TEE BUCESEIN KING;
By Major Dangerfield Burr.

93. Cagtain Dick Talbot, KING OF
TEE ROAD. y Albert W. Aiken.

94. Freelance, THE BUCCANEER; or, The
WAIE OE TEE WAVE. By Col. Prentiss Ingrahani.

95. Ashort, TEE AXMAN; or, TEE SECRETS
or TEE DUCAI. PALACE. By Anthony P. Morris.

96. Double-Death , or, TEE SPY QUEEN
or WYOEING. By Capt. Roderick Whittaker.

97. Bronse J ack, TEE CALIFORNIA
TEOROUGEERED. By A. W. Aiken.

98. The Rock Rider: or. TEE SPIRIT
or TEE SIERRA. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker.

99. The Giant Rifleman: or, WILD
LIFE IN TEE LUMBER REGIONS. By 011 Coomes.

100. The French 8 y: or. TEE BRIDE
fir PARIS. A Story of the mmune. By A. P.
01115.

101. The Man from New York: or,
TEE ROMANCE or A RICE YOUNG WOEAN. By Albert
W. Aiken.

102. The Masked Band: or, TEE MAN
WITEOUT A NAEE. By George L. Aiken.

103. Merle. the Mutineer: or, THE

BRAND OP TEE RED ANCEOR. By Col. P. Ingraham.
Ready September 22d.

104. Montezuma, the Merciless: or,

TEE EAGLE AND TEE SERPENT. P. 

Anewismwerytwoweeh.

Beadle’s Dime Library is for sale by all
Newsdealers, ten cents per copy. or sent by mail on
receipt of twelve cents each. BEADLE & ADAMS.
Publishers. 98 William Street. New York.