I ' M1} I'wuzruw ‘ Il.‘ V . 3 An mm M.- \ J\ v‘ mun 'lguufmmn‘ 'n ' " !" ;:"‘?:!II «W‘z'tv"“li.'Ii;1' Ill'n‘ull I ‘\ nth“: ‘ . .199}? I13 5 ‘7”. av ' aha: Anny: a: ADA M S- Y :‘I”"’""".‘~t.'.w .IL'...“ ,m’wq. «aw-w. - a. . ,, . v an _v w .. . _ ENTERED u m: Posr Orncn AT NEW YORK. N. Y . A'I' SECOND CLASS MAIL runs. V01 XXXV (f. N0 446 ' ' WPdDMdW- ms WILLIAM s’runn'r. N. Y., May 11. mm". 35-00 8 Y9“ ' r I - "_ “HI “[7 9 "Wu n WH E ' ' 1 .‘ ‘ i W "um “um IQ. ’ ‘f v_- 'j.4 ?’._— Ith Q N m I A Romance of Piracy. 3nd a Companion Story to " The Fttal Frigtte,” Ind “ The One-Armed Buccnneer." BY (‘ULONEL I’RENTISS INGRAHAM. Arman HF "MERLE. THE MCTINEER.“ “MON- ‘rmmm. THE MLIu‘ILEss.’ “THE FLYING YANKEE.“ “A ('ABIN BUY'S L1‘CK," “THE SEA RAIDERS." Emu. ETC. t (‘HAI’TER I. Tm: I'NKXMVN GAMBLER. '- SEVUR MAHCELLAS. your good luck is phe- nuIm-ual." . ' . ~- Y"; fHI‘ you haw “on my lIInIt (If bettmg." " And Iniuv.“ “ I have a Ihnusuud paws you may try your \\ lllt'k agaimt In another game. Senor Marcel- ‘ “ .. his." _ 7-- .__,. _L___H .\ ,, A _ __ , The Speakers were Spanlsh gentlemen. and AS THE swmms (‘LAsmzn thill'HH-ZK. TJHJ LHll ’I‘VNAN'I‘ nmrgmnxu THE LADY, THERE they sat (mom 3 table "1 a gamblmg 301071111 snu’r Ul'T FHth mgmxn Tm; HOLD I’UIN’I‘ «w LAM) A LAIwI: VESSEL. HHWDB, “‘hlk’ 3mm them “We gathered 8 J 'onaslipofpaperand number of lookers—on, deeply interested in the ' mes of chance which the party had been in- n] 'ng in for several hours past. 9 one they addressed, Robert .Marcellas, was a Cuban, a man of wealth and position in Havana, and his ood fortune at cards had been wenderful that night, for he had steadily won from the first game. He was a man with a dark, stern face, refined and intelligent, and he was one of the few Cuban ntlemen whom the Spaniards were forced to gloat with respect, for he had roven himself a dangerous foe in several fata encounters, and thus made himself feared. ose who had layed to their limit withdrew afte their remar s, while th one who had said that he had a thousand pesos to stake. glanced up into the face of the Cuban to see if he would accept the challenge. In an instant he did so, with the remark: “ I cover your money, Morello, or, if you say so, we will make it two thousand.” “No; I’ll risk the thousand to break your luck,” said Major Morello, a Spanish officer of cavalry. “My luck will not fail me,” was the calm re« piglet the Cuban, and the game was begun. - ot a sound was heard throughout, other than the shuffling of the cards, and then came the words: “ I have lost.” “ And I have won.” “I told you in ' luck could notbe broken,” and the Cuban smile! . “Perhaps, Senor, I may convince you to the contrary, if you will honor a stranger by play- ing with him.” All eyes turned upon the speaker, and the Cuban glanced quickly up at him. He saw a tal man, under thirty, with a face that was bronzcd by exposure, fearless in ex; ' ression, and a look about it of one who knew is own power. He was well dressed, in such a suit as a rich sea-captain might wear. and be certain] looked the gentleman. but whether Cuban or . paniard no one could tell. “ Your name, please, senor?” “Rafael Modesta, senor, and I am a sailor,” was the repl , with a bow. Roberto ii arcellas arOse politely and said: “ I aCCcpt your challenge, Senor ,Oapitan Modesto, and if you can break my luck you are a remarkable man. “ Be seated, please, senor.” The stranger took the seat to which the Cuban motioned him, and asked pleasantly: “ Name your wager senor.” “ I am at your servwe, Senor Capitan." fghThen let it be for ten thousand pesos, to begin w1 . 0001 player that he was, the Cuban started at the sum named, while a murmur of amaze- ment ran around among the interested lookers- on. “ As you please, senor,” said the Cuban, after his momentary start of surprise, and the stran- rtook out a well-filled pocketbook and laid 6 amount, in Spanish notes of large denomina- tioaedown upon the table. y were instantly covered by the Cuban, and the game was played, somewhat cautiously hm Senor Marcellus, and with an air of in- d nee by the strange sailor, whom no one seemed to know. “I have won, Senor Modesta,” said the Cu- ban, with a smile of triumph at his good for- “You have, senor; but sup so we make the stake double the amount this ime?” n the murmur of surprise from the crowd, .the Cuban said: “I warn you, Captain Modesta, that my luck cannot be broken.” ' “ I think it can, senor.” “I am called Fortune’s Favorite by my W friends, and often refuse to play, not wishing to ' , win their money. ” ‘fWill you cover my wager, senor?” quietly asked the stranger. “ If you insist.” “Being a stranger to on, senor, I can only est the favor,” was t e courteous re ly. \ 9 Cuban bowed, and then placed his stake upon the table. “I again win, senor,” said Senor Marcellus, with natural triumph at his good fortune. “ As I am just back from a successful trading offline, I can afffird to double our last bet, senor, socall it forty t ousand pesos this time. ” The crowd looked in amazement at the stranger, as ‘ for seldom was it that stakes ran half as big the figure named. The Cuban also seemed surprised, and looked more attentively at his antagonist; but he re- _“ I am at your service, senor; for any sum.” “ Does that mean to double the forty thousand. senor?” came the cool query. “ As the Senor Modesta desires,” answered the “Then I place this Spanish bank draft for V fty thousand pesos.henor, and here are thirty ousand more to make up the ei hty.” Roberto Maresllas hastil wro a few words ed it to the keeper of Ocean Ogre, the Outcast Gersair. the salon, who put his name across it, and said to the stranger: “I acce t the Senor Marcellas’s paper fora quarter 0 a million pesos, Senor Captain.” The stranger bowed, as though satisfied quiet- ly played the game through and never c anged a muscle when he lost. “ Do not risk your money, senor, against my luck,” the Cuban said. The stranger made no repl , but took out several other bank drafts and t on said: “ Senor, here are a hundred thousand pesos, and I am in the humor to still test your luck, but here is the stake I wish to have you place a ainst my money.” 0 took up the quill pen as he spoke, dipped it into the ink-horn and wrote a few lines, which be folded up and handed to the Cuban. The face of the latter flushed, then paled as he read what the stranger had written, and he bit his lips in an angry manner. Then he cried: I “ Do you mean this as an insult, senor?” “ I on my honor, no!” “ but then 3" “ As man to man, and in good faith.” The Cuban was silent for a moment, and all eyes watched the two, for no one knew what mysterious lines had been written upon that slip of paper which the stranger had handed to the Senor Marcellus. Then, sharp and stem came the words: “ Strange as is the wager you wish me to make against your gold. Senor Modesta, and, stranger though you be tome, confident that my luck cannot fail me, I accept your challenge.” CHAPTER II. THE MYSTERIOUS wanna. THE stranger bowed and smiled, when the Cuban accepted the mysterious wager he had made, while the half-hundred men, now gath‘ cred about the table, gazed at one and the other in wonder at what was takingI place. The game was begun wit the same confi- dent smile upon the part of Senor Marcellas, that he always wore when playin and which often disconcerted his opponents. w lie the mys- terious sailor looked as before, wholly indiffer- ent to consequences. Still it. could be seen that Rafael Modesta pin (1 with wonderful caution. be game progressed slowly, from the quiet layin of the sailor. and the face of Roberto arce as soon lost its smile, for luck had begun to change, and the stranger was beginning to Win. , Again were the cards shuffled and dealt, and ami a breathless silence the game went on, only that confident smile no longer rested upon the face of the Cuban. “You are losin your luck, senor, and if mine continues I Win,” quietly said the stranger. The Cuban made no reply. It was evident that he was anxious, and more, he seemed fair] to suffer. His luck had been p enomenal, and few there were who had cared to play with him. A gambler merely for his amusement, he was not a stead fre uenter of the place, and drop- ped into t e ed on at times when time hung eavy upon his hands. ‘ The past threamonths he had been seldom seen there, for his onl child, a beautiful daugh- ter, had lately finish her education at the con- vent, andrreturuing to her home had made her father’s life a joyous one, and seldom Was it that hie cared to return to his old haunts for associa- t on. But on that evening his daughter, the Senorita Marcelite had gone to visit an old school friend, and Senor Marcellas. flndin the home dull without her had gone to the gain ling salon for company, His friend she had soon drivan off by his luck, and all had been surprised when the young and handsome sailor knOWn to no one present, had challenged him for a game. The surprise had increased when the stranger showed such wonderful nerve in his heavy losses, and then when he proposed a' wa er WillllCh had without doubt moved Senor r- ce as. Of course there had been times when the Cuban had lost, and heavily, but he had never seemed to care. seeming to feel that his luck would soon return. In nine cases out of ten, however, he was the winner, and all were surprised to see the Cuban change color, his smile of confidence fade and his manner become almost nervous as the game neared the finale. Were the stakes so enormous that they in- cluded all that Senor Marcella: was worth? So people about the table asked themselves, and the more eagerly did they watch the lgame, because they knew not what was to be eat or won. “ I have won. Senor Marcellas,” quietly said the stranger, as the game ended and he leant forward calmly regarding the Cu . Senor Marcellas seemed dazed. His hands trembled, his face had become livid. and he seemed hardly capable of moving onunderstaad- ing what the stranger had said to him. “ You seem to be deeply moved, senor, by your turn of luck.” - “ I will give you another chance, and upon the same terms—ma , I will place my original ‘- 4' bet against what I ave just won, all in the galance, against the wager I played for be- orei ’ Every word was distinctly uttered, and they seemed to arouse the Cuban who cried eagerly: “ Will you do this, senor?’ “ l have so said.” “ And you mean it?” “ I am a man of my word, Senor Marcellus.” “ Then I agree,” was the earnest response. “ One moment, sir,” said the stranger. “ “7e11, senor?” “My moneyis there before you, and I have no uarantee of good faith upon your part.” he Cuban’s eyes flashed while he replied: “ You have my word, senor.” ' “ You are a stranger to me, senor; but I take it your word is that of an honorable man; but Will you 53 y here, before these gentlemen, that you will pay if you lose?” t. “ Inwill do so, Senor Modesta, within a proper nne. “ I accept that reserve, sir, making it within three months.” “Yes, sir.” “ i am ready, senor, to see who is the favorite of fortune this time,” and the stranger dealt the cards. The game was played amida dead silence, and ,. the stranger won! ,‘1 _ All drew a long breath, for what was it that l the mysterious straiwer had won which could : solpnnerve the inipa55ible Cuban, Roberto Mar- ce as? “as ism...» ‘— CHAPTER 111. “YOUR WAGER on YOUR LIFE, SENORI” IT was the morningl after the mysterious game played at the avana gamblin s , between Senor Roberto Marcellas, the rich Cuban banker, and his strange apponent, the unknown sailor, who called himself Rafael Modesta. The Cuban lived in handsome style, in a fashionable quarter of the city, and life was just beginning-.5 to open to him a season of enjoy- ment, for in the past he had had a hard strug- gle. He belon ed to a nod old Cuban family, but his father di and left property to his family instead of wealth. But Roberto Marcellas had worked his way up to a lucrative position while yet a oung man, and he had married a handsome uban girl who was an heiress, and whom he loved for her worth alone, and not her money. He had been forced to fight several duels, ‘ with rivals, to win her; but, a superb swords- , man, he had been the victor. ‘3 . His wife had dieda few years after their mar- i; i riage, leaving him one child, a beautiful little dau hter. T is little girl, Marcelite, had been given to the care of the nuns to educate and rear, and it was 11 n her return home that the happi- ness of t e stern man n. Theseh thingsd dlid libobertoh Marcellas con it over as e pace t is rary t e moral after his 9 at the salon. ‘8 e was very pale, and sleep had not visited him during the night. Fortunately his daughter was absent, for a ' 4 couple of days, visiting friends, so did not know . what her father sulYered, for suffer he did. A servant enterin informed him that a gentleman had called see him. “ His name?” “Senor Captain Modesto.” “ Ah, Heaven have mercy! I feared it ” groaned the man, as the servant departed {0 show the visitor in. “ Good-morning. Senor Marcellus. 1 he I find you in the en 0 meat. of rfect happ ness this morning.” In 6 sailor In his quiet way. “ You fln me a very wretched man, Senor Ca lain.” ‘ h! why so, pray?” “ at I was such a fool to stake on a game of cards my happiness and that of my only child,” was the rejomder. “ You seemed to feel that our luck was un- breakable, senor, and l simp y proved that it was not.” ‘ ‘ “ But the accursed wager I made.” ' “ Your daughter’s he mi!” N Yes ’1 «3.. a... “A “4'3 'xa'u.‘ *— ‘ J‘:-:«:¢,n. '. ‘ 2 l ,3 .5 ’ 5 3." .' “ I consider that an angelic wager senor.” “ You understand me, sir. I say that it was accursed in me to make such a. wager.” dé‘Ahnl I agree with you there; but still you i so. “ And, by the high ’ Heaven above, “or , Modesta, I shall not keep it,” cried the Chban, sav l . Thgeszilor lau bad light] . “ You do not lieve me “ No, for you boasted last night that you were a man of your word.” . “Take my fortune, sir, and release me from ~ that wager?” ' ' “No; for I have a fortune", ‘l’ w. i i l I l a. . {Hawagswu simian": :_ ~ . i a: r‘:w—ou ~441etr’ér w ' Ocean Ogre, the Outcast Corsair. 3 “ You do not know my dau hter, even.” “I have seen her senor, an to see the Senor- ita Marcelite, is to love her.” The Cuban groaned in his agony of spirit. “ She has never seen you, sir.” “ Perhaps, yes, perhaps, no.” f‘ Who are you, anyhow?” ‘ A sailor.’ ' ‘ That means much, it means nothing.” ‘ ' According to how you understand it. ” “I understand it that you are simply a sai- lor?” ‘ “ I am the captain of a vessel which I own, senor, and I cruise from sea to sea, getting what cargoes I can, and disposmg of them to the best of advantage. . “ I have made money by it, and can match your fortune to-day. “ I am a gentleman born, a Cuban, and seeing your daughter, loved her. If she becomes in wife I am more than a happy man. If not, am wretched. “ I staked my fortune against her hand, and I won. I gave you another chance, yet still I won, and I shall demand my wager—shall ask to be presented to your daughter, and beg from her her love.” “ And Iret‘use, sir, be you rich or poor, Cuban or Spaniard, gentleman or mongrel,” Senor Marcellas retorted. “ And I shall post you as a liar, for breaking our word, and a thief for robbing me of what Iwon from you i” was the cool response of the sailor.” Senor Marcel his was livid with rage. He half- sta‘rted toward the stranger, but checking him- self hissed: “ These threats to me, sir?” “ Yes, for you refuse my demand. It shall be our wager, or your life, senor!” said the mys- terious sailor, calmly. “ Do you mean that you dare face me in the duello f” “ I do, senor!” “ Then so it shall be, sir. Your address, please, that my friend may find you.” The sailor anded out a card, wrote On it an address and departed. The address was given on shipboard, and there the friend of Senor Marcellas found him seated in his cabin, chatting with a visitor in the uni- form of a captain in the Spanish Army. ’ The Cuban had sent to him a Spanish naval captain, and the sailor greeted him pleasantly, and set wine before him. The “ aflair of honor” was quick] arranged, and the naval officer retired to the ome of the Cuban. “ Well, Captain Valdez?” eagerly asked the Cuban. “I found him on board his vessel, as trim a schooner as I ever saw, and which only needs the guns and a large crew to make her a pirate.” “ Maybe he is one.” “ Oh, no he is a trader, I guess, as he says, for Ca tain finrad of the cavalry was his guest, an is to be his second.” “ Ah! did you ask Durad about him?” “ No. I had not the opportunity.” “ Well, what are the arrangements?” “ To fight at sunset to-day, outside of the town, at a plomt you have fought on before," was the signi cant reply. 6 Weapons n “ Swords.” “ Good! I’ll run him through the heart and thus end his demand on me,” was the savage re- sponse of the Cuban. Several hours after, accompanied b Ca tain Valdez and his surgeon, Senor MameIlas ove in his volante to the rendezvous. The sailor and his cavalry friend were already there, having gone b boat from his schooner, and the two parties po itely saluted each other. Then the weapons were uncased, measured, and the duelists took their stands, the surgeon having opened his box of ominous-looking in- struments ready for use, though the Cuban had said to him: “ I will not need your services, senor, and when I finish with yonder fellow he will be be- yond them.” All resent, except the sailor, knew the Cu- ban’s 3 ill as a swordsman, and Captain Durad up red a trifle anxious for his friend. ut the young sailor seemed indifferent, and when the blades crossed, Senor Marcellas Showed visibly that he had met a surprise, for his oppo- nent was as skilled with weapons as with cards. The others saw this too, and the faces of Cap- tain Valdez and his surgeon became anxious as they saw that the sailor was pressing their friend hard, and meant to kill him. In vain did Senor Marcellus change from the offensive to the defensive, when he saw that he had to fight for his life, for the mysterious sea- man pressed him back, step by step beat down Ski'sdguard and drove his keen blade through his y. Drawin it forth, his victim sunk into the arms of aptain Valdez, and coolly wiping the blade, after a glance at the man he had ven his death-wound, he raised his on and hg ythearmof CaptainDundwalk anyto o Upon reaching the boat, Captain Durad stop- ped and said: “ Here we part, Captain Modesta, for I wish toreturn and see if I can aid Senor Marcellus and the others, for they are my friends. “ You did me a good service the other night when those drunken soldiers attacked me, and I was glad to return it by serving you to—day.” “ As you please, senor, and for what you have done I than you.” Captain Modesta turned as he spoke and con- tinued on to his boat, while Captain burad re- turned to the little group near the volante. “ Ah, Durad, he has just breathed his last; but, who is that devil’s own friend of yours?” cried Captain Valdez. “ I know only that he says his name is Rafael Modesta, and that he is captain of a ‘Vest Indian trader. “ He saved my life some nights since, from a gang of drunken soldiers who attacked me, and today called at my quarters and asked me to serve him. “ He is a superb swordsman, and more I can- not tell you; but Heaven pity poor Senorita Marcellas,” said the young cavalry soldier, as the body was placed 1n the volante to be sent home. CHAPTER IV. THE BRIDE or A BUCCANEER. “ MARCELITE, I have deceived you I” The one who uttered the words stood upon the dwk of a beautiful armed schooner, which was gliding swiftly over the moonlit waters of the Gulf of Mexico, and gradually dropping the island of Cuba out of sight astern, as the dis- tance increased. The one to whom he addressed the startling words was a woman, young, beautiful, and who was clinging to the arm of the speaker with all the confidence of a pure love. . There was no flag flying at the peak, but the crew scattered about wore a sea uniform, and several officers were grouped together 0. id- ships laughing and tal 'ing, the moonlight glit- tering u on the gold lace that ornamented their caps an 'ackets. “ You ave deceived me, Vival?” asked the woman. raising her beautiful eyes to the man upon whose arm she leant and there was doubt in her tone, a look in her face that she could not believe his words. , “ Yes, Marcelite, I am not all that you have believed me to be.” “ What are you that I have not thought you, Vival?” ‘ - “ Do you remember our first meetin i” “ Ah, yes, at the masked ball in the overnor- General’s palace in Havana—can I ever forget it, Vival?’ . “ Do you recall that I left at the hour when the masks were to be removed?” “ Yes, you said that you were compelled to go, but ou unmasked before me.” “. did, for you did not know me, Marcelite.” “ I know you now; but I have often thought of our meeting, when I dropped my diamond bracelet and you returned it to me, asking that you mi ht clasp it upon my arm, and I allowed you to 0 so. Then you grew bold, and asked me to take your arm in a promenade, and I con: sented. and thus we became friends, for I un- masked for you, as you did for me, and from that moment I loved you.” “ I had loved you before, Marcelite, for I had seen you severa times upon the balcony of your father’s house, and I knew his portly form. in spite of a mask, when he entered, and I felt that it was you that was with him. “ The bracelet I saw you drop, and it gave me an excuse to join you. ' “ Then, when your father died, and you went to live in your bachelor uncle’s home, back yon- der on the coast, I sought you there, because I loved you. “ He knew me as a Spanish naval oflicer, and welcomed me, for he cared little for the world outside of his own home, and when I asked your hand of him, he gave it to me, and I am happy in having 1you n0w with me as my bride. " Still, have deceived you, Marcelite.” Even in the moonlight he saw a look of in- credulity pass Over her face, while she said, earnestly: “ I believe you to be all that is noble, Vival.” He was silent an instant and then he said in a low tone: “ You have few kindred ties, Marcelite—no one that you care for, I believe?” “Onl my uncle, who was kind to me, after my fat er’s death, you know. I went to the convent from my home, Viva], and I had just entered society, when father was killed in that fearful duel I have told you of, and I then after his death went to my uncle, hoping he would average his brother. “ ut, poor, easy-going soul that he “a, he would do nothin , an I vowed to be avenged some day myse , upon the murderer of my poor father, who fell through his love for me, for I have told you of his gambling my hand against a fortune and then figh to save me. “ Then you came to me. my new home on- der by the sea, Viva], and I forgotall abo re; venge. Ilived only for love, and you are all that I have, all that I care for in the wide world.” As she spoke she put her hands u n his shoulders and gazed up into his face With per- fect love and confidence. He was a handsome man, a Cuban by birth, and with the dark hair and eyes of his race. His form was elegant, yet wiry in build and de- noted strength ab0ve the average, which, in his gorgeous uniform he certainly looked the man to win a youu girl’s admiration and love. “And yet, filarcelite, I have deceived you!” again came those same ominous words. She did not shrink from him, though she could but believe his words had some (icep, hidden meaning. Her love was too idolatrous in its intensity, her trust too great in the object of that love, for her to give him up, because he had deceived her in some way. “ Tell me, Viva], what you have done, that I {gay forgive you and bury the past, whatever it He half turned his face away at her words, and shuddered slightly. Then he said slowly: ' “ Marcelite, suppose I was to tell you that I am other than I seem—that I am not, as you, and our uncle believe me, a Spanish naval officer, ut somethin else.” “ You spea Spanish as a natiVe, Viva]: but, whatever your nationality I can but love you.” “ I told you, when we met at that hall that I was a naval officer, and I have so led you to bed lieve since. “ You introduced me to your uncle as Ca tain Viva] Murel, of the Spanish Navy, an be, though a Cuban and not particularly in love with Spaniards, received me with kindness and hespitality.” “It was because on were my intended hus- band, Viva], as I had told him you were. “ I had told him that one day when out driv— ing, some weeks after my father’s death, I went to his grave, to hid it farewell, as I was to leave Havana and come to his home to live. “ I told him that while there, weeping over my dear, dead father, that you had appeared, you whom I had once seen at the conth, again at the masked ball, and several times after in my horseback rides about the ten. “ I told him that there, ab0ve my father’s grave, you had told me of your love and vowed by the ashes of the dead at our feet to make my life one of happiness. “ Knowing this, and how dearly I loved you, my uncle welcomed you, and, when you came ,~ yesterday, according to your promise, to ask me to be your wife, he gave his consent, and now, Viva], we are united until death parts us.” “ Unless you reverse that vow, Marcelite?" “ What do you mean, Vival?” ' “ I told you that I was not a Spanish ofllcer, Marcelite.” “ ‘Vhat are you then?” “ A Cuban.’ “ I am glad to hear that, for I am a Cuban, you know. ’ “ And I hate Spain and Spaniards.” “ Most Cubans do!” “ But, I was in the navy of Spain, Marcelite, as a midshipman, and I was insulted by Span‘ iards because I was a Cuban. At last, goaded on b insults I hit back, and I hit hard and dead y, and I had to leave my ship, or go up to the ard-arm. “ sprung into the sea—reached the shore after a desperate struggle for life, and from that day I vowed vengeance a inst S ain. “ I made my way back the est Indies, for it was on the S 'sh coast that I escaped, and, receiving wha money I could I fitted out a small craft and began my war against the Spanish flag. “ eJirospered, Marcelite, for I own this fine‘ , arm vessel now; I have an island rendezvous all my own, among the Bahamas, and there are \ those upon this schooner, and in that isle, who obey my bidding alone, and sail under the flag I fly above this deck.” “ Why, Viva], do you own no nation’s flag?” she asked in surprise. I \ H No‘}e.” “ Does that not make you an outlaw, Vival?” “ In the eyes of S in, yes, Maroelite, and Spain is my foe. I ave entered her 11:8 in disguise; I have taken my vessel into _ vana, anchored her under the guns of El Moro, and she has been looked upon as an honest trader, for my battery and extra men have been in hiding in the hold. “But, you shall see the flag I fly, Marcelite, and, if you wish to give me up to return to the gardiansbip of your uncle, I shall int tlm w of my vessel again toward the d, and leave you in safety in his care. ” ‘ “ No. no, Viva] I will remain with you,” and- she clung to his arm. , “ Wait until you see my flag, Manama.” Hisvoice startled his officers and grown it rung out: ' e “ Ho, here!” “Ay, ay,sir!” and an officer came quick! aft towheretheyoung tainandhisbride “Runnmycolorsup ,“Ay; ay. mm" 1,. I, 9;; 3. .5— 4 Ocean Ogre, the Outcast Corsair. A minute more and a flag fluttered out upon the breeze. It was a black field and had a gauntlet loved hand in crimson, clas in a cutlass of gel “Oh, Vivali it is t e ag of a—a-’ “ Speak out, Marcelite.” “A buccaneer !” she whispered. “ It is the flag that I sail under, Marcelite— " shall I put about for your uncle’s home?" “ N0, Viva], my destiny is indelibly linked with yours. for I am your wife,” was the low but firm res use of the beautiful irl, over whose form t ere swept a shudder as s e uttered ‘ the words. CHAPTER V. A PIRATES GOOD DEED. « \ THE winds whistled through the streets of New ‘ Orleans, and the drivin rain beat stingingly into the faces of those w 0 were forced to face the fury of the storm. The night was dark, and the streets were like ‘ rivulets as the waters rushed through them. ‘g, And out in the streets, wandering along with ' aimless steps, as though unheedin the peltin rain, was a man who wore no cloa to protec him from the cold and wet. His wa lay toward the river, and as he walk- ed alon is eyes would fall upon the lights in , the win ows of pleasant homes, which seemed “ but to make him more wretched, for he groaned foph from between his shut teeth: There is no home for me.” Suddenly he stopped, and raising his hand, ,; said earnestly: . ,“ Yes, there is a home for me. ‘ " “ It is yonder, beneath the depths of yonder rolling river. " I will go to m home—the home that awaits all those whose urdens of life are more than _ they can bear.” '. He hastened on now with quick, firm tread, .,. and leavin the houses behind him, crossed the ' m lev and stopped at last upon the river— .v n . , Above him, along the shore, were a number of ‘ ' vessels, and out in the stream, at anchor, were 1‘ others, their lights shining but dimly through ‘ ' the darkness and the rain. =3, - The manstood u n the bank, looking down #3: unmoved into the lack, rushing river, and un- ', .f heeding the pitiless rain that beat upon him. .‘C h h v . es, am go ng ome— ome to my grave. .\- . “Ah, me! how 1 have suffered for the wild r‘ - life I led in the dear old home. “I was wild, wa ward, and, fear of the gal- ‘ lows caused me to y. 5 ;,- " , “ Here I am to-ni ht, far from those dear to me, with no frien near—not one to stretch :_ , forth a hand to help or save me. 5:; V “ I am hungry ragged and sick. if? _, “ Were I we , I could get work on board I 1333;, some of these vessels. “ But I am not fit to work, and so I must die. “Better that the end he sudden, than that I linger on in sorrow and suffering a few more 1'4. days. :..c;" ‘May God forgive me! May He bless those '5 3' dear to me i” As he spoke he plunged into the river, and ,9. sunk from sight. '; “Way ’nough! All eyes open', for a -man “gr,- \ jumped from yonder bank !” ‘1 {The words came from a boat that was ap- ’1‘: " preachin the shore. , In the arkness and the rain the suicide had i 3 not observed it, nor had he been seen by those in W the boat until he sprung into the river. ‘ “ There he rises! Steady! I have him i” The one who had before spoken grasped the form of the suicide as he spoke, for he had risen within reach of his arm. , . He was at once drawn into the boat, limp, "3-," lifeless almost, and barely could say: . “ Throw me back into the river—let me die!” x," «‘7’ Then he became unconscious. I i ' “ Poor fellow, I believe he is starving. , “ Why, he has a high fever, and his pulse 1;“ beats w th frightful ra dity. ~ “Pull ashore, and fo r of you men help me J . ’ hear him to Pore Jacque’s Inn.” K 111s boat touched the shore soon after, and the men, forming a barrow with their cars, placed _ the limp form upon it and rapidly followed the one who appeared to be leader, and who had or- dered his coxswain to draw of! from the bank and anchor until his return. Pore Jacque’s Inn was a sailors’ tavern, kept by an old Frenchman, and, as though ac uainted ‘ (well with the place, the leader took s party , I through the yard to a rear door, at which be >: J,’ ' gava a peculiar knock. f?" ' It was opened b Pere Ja ue himself, who held a lantern in h 8 hand, an izin his visitor cried in Spanish, which he s Ee we : “ Welcome captain, welcome, an come in out ' of this wicked m ht. 7 “Thank you, ere Jacque, I’ll gladl do so; but first take this man to a room get him dry > ' clothes and send for a doctor for him. "u ,. “ Then give my men some og all round and lstthem obacktotheirboa , while I have an with you.” ‘V “All shall be as you say, captain; but have you turned good Samaritan?" he added, as he saw the ragged form on the litter. “ Strange to say I have in this case. “ I saw the fellow jump into the river, doubtr less to take his own life, and, having thwarted him he may thank me some (19. , yes and be use- ful to me too,” and the one ad ressed as captain laughed lightly, as Pere J acque halted at a room into which the sailors bore the unconscious man. A doctor was at once sent for dry clothes were ut upon the r wretch, and the seamen, after their grog ha been disposed of, returned to their boat. The doctor pronounced the patient sufferin from a high fever, and said that the chances 0 recovery were against him. He was a young man, with an exceedingly at- tractive face and the appearance of having been reared a gentleman. ' But his face was haggard and pinched with suffering now. “ I like the fellow’s face—it is one in a thou- sand, so Pere J acque, get a ood nurse, give him our best room, and save im, for I’ll pay all ills do ou hear?” “ wil do your bidding, captain, now I know where the money comes from; but should he die?” said the cautious Frenchman. “ Bury him, and I’ll pay expenses.” “ Certainly, ca tain; but come, let us leave him to the doctor an hisnurse, while we have a talk, for I have news.” “ Good 1” said the man whom the Frenchman called captain, and he followed the host to a pleasant room, where a bottle of wine and lunch was at once brought by a little i sette. The “ captain” was none 0t er than Vival Morel, the Cuban Corsair, and the cruel man who, as Rafael Modesta, had ambled with Senor Roberto Maroellas for is dau hter’s hand, and then killed him because he won d not keep to his word, and in the end had married Marcelite, the daughter of the one whom he had placed in his ve. But little id poor Marcelite dream that the hand that she had placed her own in so confid- ingly, had held the sword that pierced her father’s heart. CHAPTER VI. STRANGILY unr. “ THAT shot has settled him, Gunner Hamid l” The scene has changed from New Orleans to the Gulf, some months after the stormy night when the intended suicide had been carried to the tavorn of Pere J acque suffering with a high fever. which had can his heated brain to long for rest in death. A trim little schooner has been speeding over the blue waters of the Gulf of Mexico, chased by a fleet brig-of-war. flying the English flag, for at the time of which I write the muttering tem- pest of war was heard in our land, threatening to break out between the American colonies and the mother country. The schooner was firing upon the brig from her stern guns, and her captain had the p uck to boldly show his colors, which were none other than a black field with a crimson hand ping a gold cutlass—the flag of a sea out aw, an which was rec ized as floating above the deck of the Cuban Corsair, known in the Gulf as Cap- tain Cutlass. The schooner had been gaining upon the brig, and there was the prospect of her escaping, for night was not far away, and the corsair hugged the shore as close as possible, hoping to dart into some secret lagoon or inlet after dark, and thus escape, for his pursuer’s deeper keel caused him to kee further out to sea. As t became evident to those on board the brig that the schooner must escape, a sailor ad- vanced to where the captain stood, and saluting politely said: “ W ll you permit me, sir, to fire the bow pivot a few times, for I believe I can hit the schooner and cut away a mast. ” " By all means, Hamid; and if you do I’ll make you gunner of the piece,” was the reply. The young sailor was t e one who had rung to the Mississippi, that night of storm a New rleans, but he was greatly chan since then, and in his sailor garb was certain ya handsome, dashing-lookin man. He walked orward to the gun, and after it had been loaded, coolly took aim at the schooner, now almost out of range. . . Then the piece belched forth its iron shot, and all eyes anxiously watched the result. A cheer went up from the British crew as the shot was seen to have been a line one, cutting through the mainsail of the pirate. 7 Again the young gunner fired, and the shot tore along the deck of the schooner, ev1dently doin damage to crew and vessel. A bird shot was fired with the same deliber- ate aim, and a wild cheer broke from the brig’s men, for it had cut away the malnmast, bring- ing it dawn with its vast spread of canvas. . _ t was this shot which had caused the British captain to egg: ‘ That sh has settled him, Gunner Harold !” The pirates were throwu‘into the utmost con- fusion, for their vessel broached to, with the wreckage hanging over the side, and the brig O . ‘ . ran rapidly down upon the schooner, firing as she did so. The irates had attempted to take to their boats, ut a broadside from the brig shattered them, and so they determined to fight. “ Boarders ahoy!” shouted the bri ’3 com- mander, and after receiving a severe re from the schooner, the British vessel ran alongside of the pirate. The young gunner, Harold was the first upon the deck of the schooner, and the fight that fol- lowed was a fierce one, but ended in the pirates being driven before the British tars and forced to surrender. “ Put that man in irons, Gunner Harold!” cried the British commander, pointing to the pirate chief, who had just thrown his sword at the feet of the young captain. Gunner Harold ste led forward to obey, and as the pirate held fort his hands he started, his face flushed and paled, and for a moment he heeltated 1n carrying out the order. The eyes of the pirate captain were upon him, and the recognition was mutual. The pirate knew at a glance the young man whom he had dragged from the Missrssippi River that night, and had cared for at Pere Jacque’s until he was well, but who, in an inter- view held with him, had resisted histemptations to mg}? with him as an officer of his outlaw craft. e gunner recognized the corsair captain as the one who had saved him from death, befriend- ed him during his long illness paid all of his bills for him, and failin to get him to turn bucca- neer, had left wi Pere J acque a handsome little sum for him when he get well and departed, trusting to his honor not to betray those who had been his friends. Thus the had parted and the oung sailor, Harold, h shipped on board the ritish brig- of-war as seamen, and thus they had met again most strangely. ” After his momentary hesitation and without a word to the pirate Gunner Harold had put the irons on the hands of Captain Cutlass, the Cuban Corsair, and led him down below, to chain him to the deck, for so cruel had been the career of the outlaw chief that the British commander was determined to show him no kindness in his treatment of him, and ordered that he should be ]allowed no more privileges than were his merci- ess crew. CHAPTER VII. aioar on waoso. Arm her capture of the pirate schooner, the British brig took her prize in tow and ran in- shore to find a safe anchorage, where re irs could be made, preparatory to sailing for ew Orleans. There was considerable confusion on board, for many had been killed and wounded on both sides and the crew were considerably worn out, for they had been battling with a storm for sev- al days, and then had entered upon the lon chase of the schooner, which had been a greag strain upon officers and men alike. The pirates had been put in double irons below where a single lantern gave a dim, dismal l a. ' sI'he chief had been placed by the young gun- ner, slightly apart from his men, and lay back upon a coil of rope silent, and et not asleep, for his dark eyes were watching a i that took place about him and his ears were filled with the moans of the wounded. Presently a form approached him, carryin a Bundlg, and throwing it down by the side of h e as) : “ You can make yourself more comfortable with these, sir.” He bent over him an instant and then walked away. Soon after the same form approached, and the chief spoke to him. He halted, stooped over a moment, and then passed on. It was not very long before he came a third time, and he carried a battle lantern, which he flashed upon each ironed prisoner. He was making an inspection to see that all were right for the night, for until they got out to sea, no comforts could be allowed t e pirate crew. Gettin near the outlaw chief the man set the lantern own and walked away a few paces to where several of the pirates were grouped to- gether. These he made move apart. and yet he was de- layed sufficiently long for Captain Cutlass to ta e advantage of the near presence of the lan- tern to read what was written upon a strip of pa r, though no one saw him do so. hat he read there was as follows: “ The bundle contains a sailor‘s suit and tar- ulin. When eight bells have struck rig up in t and come on deck. for I will unlock your irons on m last tour of in tion. The bri liesa mile mm the shore. can do no more or you and it is a struggle in my mind between righ and wrong whether to free you now that you may again he a curse upon the see. If you es- cape, and no one in the confusion and darkness will suspect you, the debt between us is repaid.” The eyes of the pirate lighted up as he read .. ..