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Published Every
Wednesday.

gBeadZe q”. fldruns, @lflflz'shers,

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Ten Cents a Copy.
$5.00 a Year.

98 WILLIAM STREET, N. Y.. May 2“), 1889.

 

 

 

THE BRAiBED BRIG.

A Companion Story to “The Doomed
Whaler,” and “ The Fleet Scourge.”

 

BY COL. PRENTISS INGRAHAM.

CHAPTER I.
THE BEAUTIFUL CONVICT.

A STRANGE, sad sight it was for man’s eyes to
fall upon—a woman in a prison cell.

Sad indeed is it to behold a man caged like a
wild beast for crlme against his fellow-men; but
for a woman it looks worse than terrible, it ap—
pears cruel, uncannv.

And this woman was young, beautiful and
accused of murder.

The cell was grim in ite of efforts made by
the kind jailer and his Wife to made it appear
comfortable at least.

A small window looked out u on a seaport
town, with the blue waters of the arbor stretch-
ing away toward the ocean beyond.

A cot with snow-white spread and pillow, a
table on which were writing materials a few

,

‘yilW 

 

 

THE WHITE-HAIRED HERMIT OF THE ISLE DROPPED UPON HIS KNEES 0N 'lllE ROCK, AND
RAISED HIS HANDS IN SUI’PLICATION T0 HEAVEN

 

2

v-., -. igxai 

i .

 

 

books and a lamp, a guitar hangin upon the
wall, with a rocking-chair, work- asket and
rag carpet comprised the furniture of the room.

he occupant stood at the window, the sill of
which was just high enough for her to rest her
elbows upon, and her hands were under her
chin, as she gazed out upon the scene.

Her position was one of natural grace, and
her form perfect, the face being one that would
have caught the eye of an artist.

She wore a. black, cl0se-fitting dress, relieved
of its somberness bya white lace kerchief around
the neck. ‘

Upon one hand was a wedding ring, and
another old band in which was a single gem, a
lar ant brilliant ruby. .

or face was beautiful, for her eyes were
lar , dark-blue and shaded by long lashes,
whi 6 her hair was of a bronze hue that shone
with golden luster as the sunlight fell upon it.
A face of wondrous beauty, but stamped in-
delibly with a sadness that was touching.
f Suddenly a step was heard in the corridor,
 and there came a rap at the door, which almost
imidnediately opened and the matron of the jail
sai :
.‘ - " A gentleman to see you on business, Mrs.
tr, ~ Rutledge.”
 A look of surprise crossed the beautiful face,
but the fair convict said:

“ Admit him.”

Then into the room stepped a man whose ap-
pearance was striking.

in the hight of fashion, while he wore consider—
able jewelry, which gave him the appearance
of a sport. .

His face was strongly marked, flue-looking,
?'~' and yet would hardly stand close study, if one
 a was searching for noble qualities in the man.

“ Captain Vail, this is an interview I neither
expected or desire,” said the beautiful convict,
haughtily. '

The man’s face flushed, but he said in a tone
‘of gentleness: '

. “ I called, Lola, to—”

g: “ Pray remember, sir, that my name was not
""2 'ven up with my husband’s life. I am still

  rs. Rutledge, Captain Vail.” -

 .1 “ Pardotf

 

me, if I addressed you by the old
,‘ "-, name I knew {on b . When. 1 may my “8 were
~"-,\_ children toget er; at I came here Mrs. Rut-

ledge, to see you, now that the trial has gone
,,i against you, and you are—”
t , “ Don’t hesitate sir—say it—now that i am
to be hanged,” and the woman spoke in an un-
moved manner.
“ Well, yes, for I fear there is no hope for
u.

“ I know there is none, nor did I expect it
when my husband in dyingl said to the con-
stables when asked who was is slayer:

“ ‘ She can tell you,’ meanin me.

“ I am gnilgy, so says the aw, and 1 submit
to the alterna ve—the gallowsi"

V f‘ Itis fearful to hear you talk so, and I have
come to tell you that it must not be—that 1 will
save on.”
.1 ' “ on I" there was almost scorn in the word.
' is Yes.”
, v “ How can you save me, Ezra Vail?”
 ' “ 1 can aid you to coca , and—”
 “Ah! aud‘my escape ut the further would
. prove my-guilt," .
n V “Eu are guilty now—I mean in the eyes of

; the w; and if you could escape you could go
; - far away from here with our c ildren, and— ’

“My children! my 1 my poor little chil-
dreni

 

 

t, I The calmness of the woman was broken, for
“ the man had touched the mother’s heart in
’ ' speaking of her children.
, “ on, you could go far awady, and on are
3, rich, very rich, for your husban ’s'wiil oft you
r‘ ' or his, an be , a vast fortune.
, ‘ “ arrange to et rid of our property,
~ “for, had you cool he most appy in a for-

‘n‘w ‘ ;_ ‘Most' ‘ tIco dbehap , Ithemu‘r—
L  , dorsal. mag-3.- of thy father ofpi’ny children,

 

 

" ',; uyODurjiutlawshaveprovenf b
 ' 0 on u in once ourown
,£,(_.Ezflv‘¥lw 83,30 Y yy ’

J,‘ g 'The words were cutting in the extreme, and
, “the man winced under them.
 But suddenly the said:
3 . “ You will aid my escape transfermy prop-
_ arty into gold for me, and let molly faraway
tram here you say?”

. “ Yes, can do I0.” '

' “Toescape tram those stonewall”: no easy
g matter, Captain VaiL”
’. p" Still I can arrange it, yes, and protect your

1, -‘ And your price?”
a- 7' “’What do you meant”
‘- ‘ " f‘Yo‘u set a price upon your services of
p , course?” I
. I his face flushed, and he said:
' , “ ou know that I "always loved you, and
" ' hat, but for Mark Mountjoy, I could have won
co—

7
_ “ , ever! you never even held my regard, Ezra
«a, Vail, for I read you too well.” '
“ And 'yet you married a ma. three times your

 

,' own age I

I" . '

 

He was under thirty, well-formed and dressed '

 

Monte, the Mutineer. I

“ True, I sold myself to him for gold to save
my father in his old age from financial ruin.

“ I told him that there was one I loved, Mark
Mountjoy, one I had loved when I was but a
wee girl of eight, and never ceased tolove, in
spite of his wild pranks, his reckless career that
broke his old parenis’ hearts.

“He was not bad, but thoughtless, reckless,
and I loved him as he did me.

“ I told Peter Rutledge this, and he took me
without my heart; he said himself that he bought
me, and that some day I should love him, and so
he had a beautiful miniature made of me with a
strange device upon it—a diamond hand clasp-
ing one of pearls, with the French words in
rul ins, Le jour rimdrafl

~“ It was prophetic, for he said it was a rich
man’s, as represented by the diamonds, clasping
a young and pure girl’s, as represented by the
pearls, and_the words meant that the day would
come when I should love him.

“ Poor old Peter Rutledge—he had that locket
about his neck when he was killed, and His day
did come for him, as the words in rubies ex-
pressed it.

" Now you know that I never loved other
than Mark Mountjoy.”

“ And vet, as Peter Rutledge took you in faith,
so will I, Lola. Be my wife; pledge yourself
to become such, and I will aid you to escape
from here, so help me Heaven do I pledge you
my word!”

He stepped toward her as though to clasp her
hand. but shrunk back as he caught the look up-
on her face.

“ You dare to ask me to become your wife, I
a condemned murderess, awaiting execution on
the gallows for having taken mly husband’s life?

“ Go! Ezra Vail, or I will ki i you 2" and she
drew from her bosoma Spanish dirk and ad-
vanced toward him.

With a cry of terror the man sprung toward
the door, and, rapping loudly upon it, was re-
leased from his peril by the surprised jailer who
had heard his call to be let out, and in his ears
rung the mocking laugh of the beautiful convict.

CHAPTER II.
THE VAILEI) VISITOR.

THE condemned woman had not been long
alone, after the visit of Captain Ezra Vail, when
the jailer’s wife appeared and said:

“A lady tosee you Mrs. Rutled e.”

“ I will see no one, Mrs. Carter, or I wish to
be left in peace the few days I et' have to live.”

“ I am ver sorry Captain ail worried you,
m’am; but I 0 he would et them to change

our sentence, or he is so ric , and has so much

nfluence.” .

“ No, I could not accept—not even life itself
at his hands.”

“ You won’t see the lady then, m’aml”

“No, I wish to see no one from this day ex-
cepting yourself and your kind husband, rs.
Carter.”

 

The matron retired, but soon returned with
the remark:

“ She says she must see you, m’am; but she
would not give her name, and she is dressed in
deep mourn ng and is heavil veiled.”

“ I will not see her,” was t 9 reply, so stern]
uttered that Mrs. Carter wondered how suc
beautiful lips could utter the words thus.

Again she retired, but to reappear for the
thin time. . I

“ She sent you this ring, m,am, and said you
would see her when you saw that.”

As she spoke Mrs. Carter handed to Lola.
Rutled e a ring the counterpart of the one she
had on or hand, excepting that a pearl was the
gem set in it in place of a ruby.

As she took it'the hand trembled, the face
turned deadly ' lo and she sunk into a chair.

h Then she sai , as Mrs. Carter sprung toward
er:

“Yes, I will see her, and dear, good Mrs.
Carter, will you not see that no one comes near
in or approaches along the corridor while she
is here, and let her remain” as long as she
w

‘ Yes, honey, I’ll do it, so don’t look so appeal-
ing, as it breaks my heart, used as I am to
scenes of other folks’,misery.

“ I’ll let her sta until closing time to- night,
if you wish it, an there shall not a soul come
along. the corridor either, for I will lock the door
at the end of it.

“ I'll fetch her at once, m’am, only don’t look
so white and wretched, for you never looked even
moved when they sentenced you to death.”

“ This is more than that sentence—to face
what now I have to do,” was the low response,
and Mrs. Carter left the cell.

Sprin ng to her feet the lonely woman ap-
proach the mirror that hung upon the wall ovor
the washatand, smoothed her hair and put on a
cheerful face—it was like a smile on the face of

'a corpse. .
Then the door opened and the vailed visitor

en .
Mrs. Carter quick] closed the door, and
143:, Rutledge stood like a statue over by the
w ow.
But, with a bound the vailed visitor sprung

71‘!” day will comma“: Amos:

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.‘Ic'wf.

   

  

 

toward her and threw her arms about her,
while she cried in a voice quivering with emo-
tion:

“ May God have mercy upon you, my poor,
poor sister.”

“ For my crime, or the fate I must sufl’er,
Ethel?” asked the condemned woman.

“ Lola! do you think for one moment I be-
lieve you guilty?” was the reproachful response.

“ Heaven bless you for those words, Ethel,”
and the voice uiVered.

“ No! no! know that you are innocent.”

“ And yet you deserted me, Ethel: left me to
my fate, to a just judge and jury, and the
mercy of glib-tongued lawyers, with not a soul
to aid me, to give me comfort under the curse I
bore?”
to“ Lola! hear me, for your words are unkind

me.

“ My husband, Ca tain Monte, was away on
a cruise in his brig a terfiirates, and word came
to me that you had kil ed your husband, that
he had accused you of it with his dying lips.”

“ No, he (lid not accuse me, but his words
were so taken.

“It was a dark, stormy night, and my bus-
band had a visitor— Oh, God! must I go over
that scene again?”

For a moment she was unnerved, but by an
effort of her iron will that had won the admira-
tion of all at her trial, if not their pity, she was
instantly calm again and continued:

“ I heard acry for help, and running to my
husband’s library I beheld him struggling wit
the—themvisiborlhnd heard him admit some
time before—nay, more, I saw him fall with his
death-wound, inflicted with this knife—see, is it
not a beautiful toy f” and she handed the mur-
derous wea n to her sister, who put it away,
with a shu der.

“ I have kept it, you see, Ethel, because it
was— Well, never mind, that is my secret,
and must go to the ave with me.

“The Visitor fl , and in came a couple of
-constables who were passing and heard my
husband’s cries, and as I held the blood-stained
knife, and his words were, ‘ She can tell who
my murderer was,’ I was arrested, tried, found
guilty, and am to hang just two weeks from to-
da ,1

She spoke with a calmness that appalled her
sister, who, after an effort at self-control, said:

“ I believe you guiltli-ss, Lola, and I know
how you have suffered, my poor child.

“ You always loved poor wayward, reckless
Mark Mountjoy, and offered yourself for sale
to save father and mother from poverty in their
old age.

“ 1 have heard of your wretched existence,
for rumor had it that your old husband kept

on caged n in an old rookery and was as
jealous as a urk of you, and what you suffered
went against you on the trial, as people thought
you had own revengeful, and more, as Peter
Rutledge ad made his will, leaving you every
dollar of his fortune.

“But let me proveto you, my dear sister,
that I did not intentionally desert you.

“ Captain Monte was away, as I told you,
when word came to me of your—your—mis—
fortune.

“ It caused me to swoon away, and brought
on brain-fever, from which I have just recov-
ered, and am now only able to come to you by
the test exertion.

“ y husband returned two days ago but
was at once ordered to sea again, but told me
tocome to you the moment could, with his
love, his sym thy, and to save you if it could
be done, and if not to comfort you in your last
hours, and to take your children as our own.

A cry like a gasp broke from the lips of Lola
Rutledge, and for a moment she seemed as
though she was about to break down.

But again she controlled herself and said:

“Ethel, from my inmost soul I thank yo .
and I beg you to forgive me for all my c l
thoughts of you and of Captain Monte.

“But I understand all now, and I can die
happy, even though the Law stranges me to
death, when I know that my children are to
you and to Roland Monte as your children.

“ Here, do on see this sealed package?

" Well, it a my confession, and for my chil-

dren. -.

“ I had them spirited away by their faithful
nurse, when I was arrested, and no one knows
where they are.

“ They must never know that their mother
on; banged, hanged for the murder of their
fat or. ,

“You have no children, and you have lived
for from here, so if,you get your husband to be
ordered to another station, no one will know
that they are not‘ your own, and. as you and
Roland believe me innocent, my alleged crime
will not stain their young lives in your eyes.

“Their property I will have in such a we
that When they are of age they can claim i
and all will have been to n then. and no
one will suspect them of having been the heirs
of Lola Rutledge, the murderess.

“ This confession must be kept with my will,

 

in the hands of my two executors, you and your
husband. and to be given to my son when he
comes of age.

 

 

   
 

 

 

 

   
 

  
   
 


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“If he chooses to let his sister know it, he
may; but if not it will be better so, perhaps,
and if you care to know then my story, so be it.

“ But, remember, place my property, as
though your Own, into other hands, so that no
one may suspect, or my children will bear the
stain of their mother’s ignouiinious death.

“ Let the world believe that you and Captain
Monte cast me off utterly for my crime, and
the children will then be as your own and take
your name.

“Do on understand all I have said toyou,
my nob e sister?”

“I do, everything, and all shall be as you

sa .

X If I cannot save you, Lola, cannot protect
your memory, I can at least keep the ignominy
of your death from being borne by your children
——my children n0w, my sister.”

“ And you pled 6 me this?” ‘

“ Before God I 0!” was the solemn response,
and the black vail was thrown back.as the hand
was upraised, revealing a face startlingly like
that of the beautiful convict, for they were twin
sisters.

“ And do you answer for Roland Monte?"

“With my honor and life, for he will never
betray the trust, or our secret.”

“ God grant it! ow I can go to the gallows
undaunted,” and Lola Rutledge’s whole mien at
once changed while the smile that came upon
her face softened the sternness that had dwelt
there since the hour of the accusation of murder
against her.

“ But, my sister, is there no chance for you to
effect your escape?” suddenly asked Ethel
Monte, in an excited whisper.

“ Yes, I was offered my freedom an hour ago
by Ezra Vail.”

“ What! your old lover who became a rich
owner of whaling ships?”

H Yes-91

“ He married, I believe, and isa wid0wer with
one child, a son!”

“ Yes.”

“ And he offered to aid you to escape, Lola?”

“ He did.”

“ Thank Heaven there is hope.”

“ No, I cast the tempting cup from my lips,
for he wanted terms.”

“ Terms?”

“ Yes, that I should become his wife— Curses
upon him! I sent him cowering out of that
donr in fear' of his craven life,” and Lola Rut-
ledge sprung to her feet in her excitement, while
her sister dropped her head with a moan and the
loxv uttered words:

“ God have mercy upon you!
doomed !’

Lola, you are

 

CHAPTER III.
THE SAILOR HBRHITS.

UPON an island but a short distance from
Swan Island, on the coast of Maine, still stand
the ruins of what was once a stone cabin, and in
the present da the summer visitors from Mount
Desert- who ave cruised that far in their
yachting excursions know nothing of the strange
history connected with that little home.

There are some graves near it, and a legend
says that an old hermit once dwelt there who
was a wrecker, and that there were buried many
an unfortunate shipwrecked man.

One night, something over four-score years
ago, a ship’s boat had gone ashore there, but
fortunately had reached an inlet where it was
safe and had not been dashed to pieces.

There were dead men in the boat, and two
who were dying, with two more who had stood
the starvation and exposure of days better than
had the others.

These two did all in their power for their
dying comrades, but it was of no avail, for ere a
day passed they alone remained of the crew.

Amid a group of they were buried, and
the survivors began to recuperate under a rest,
and from getting food, for there was plenty of
game on the island. \ ,

After a stay of several-weeks they one day
took from their boatan iron strong box, and
hunting for a secure hiding—place along the rocks,
buried it there, making it appear asone of the
other graves. ,

Then the little boat put awav from the island
shaping her course toward the mainland and
disappeared in the distance. _

And for more than two years the island re-
mained in its solitude and desolation.

Tnen, one pleasant afternoon a small shallop
came in si ht and skirmishing rapidly over the
Waters no or the'light breeze, headed in for the
island. through a break in the surrounding surf.

As though amiliar with the spot the helmsman
steured toward a. little land-locked basin, hardly
half an acre in use, where the shipwrecked crew
of the boat found refuge two year. before,

The shallo was a pretty craft, can],
stanch and w th everything shipsha a us her,

She was some twenty tons on, and yet

her helmaman hhndled her_with perfect ease,
and he was the only one visible upon her decks
except a small child, a boy of three draped in
a sailor suit.
The shallop was steered into the basin and
glided gently alongside of a rocky shelf that
served as a natural wharf.

4- 1'

 

  

“ Here we are, Malcolm, at home,” said the
helmsman, and he sprung asLore and made the
shallop fast.

He was a man of fine physique, with a stern
face, stamped with boldness and recklessness, a
man who had liwd two-score years.

That he was a sailor there was no doubt, but
withal there was a look of intelligence and re-
finement about him that showed he was no or—
dinai'y person.

Making his boat fast, he neatly fui‘led the
sails, and opening the fore hatches began to put
certain things on shore.

Then telling the little boy to await him there,
he walked up into the island and after a short
search said:

“ Here is the very spot—it commands a view
of the sea, and these rocks and cedars rotect it
from the east and north winds, while t is brook
is ri ht at hand.

“ will pitch my tent here.”

And by his “ tent” he meant his cabin, for he
lost no time in going to work, and with tools
brought with him he cut out rocks and began to
build.

Months passed away, and the chill winds of
November were sweeping the island ere the little
home was finished; but it was at last completed,
and a snug retreat it was, for the sailor had
brought doors and windows with him, and all
else to make life endurable there.

He had his books for the long winter evenings,
and the coop ofchickens had been set loose u n
the island, with a dog and cat, and the she lop
had seemed to hold an inexhaustible store of
everything that was needed for the comfort of
one who had hidden himself and little boy away
on that desolate island. .

There were game and fish in abundance, and
the little companion of the sailor soon became an
expert in fishing, while he roamed the island at
will, and young as he was, did much to help the
stern man, whose face always softened when he
addressed the wee lad.

Thus tWelve years passed away to the lone
dWellers on the island, with only four runs away
each year in the shallop, to Portland, Bath, or
Belfast, Maine, for stores, and after half adozen
years had passed, the voyage had been extended
to Portsmouth, and even as far as Boston.

Of course on each trip the lad had gone, and
as he grew in years he became an expert assistr
ant to the master of the shallo who seemed
anxious to make of him a thoroug sailor.

_He had also, possessing a superior education
himself, taught the lad from the books the had,
and with an apt mind .for study it woul have
puzzled many a college youth to rave himself
the superior of the hermit youth 0 the island.

One afternoon, twelve years after the comin
to the island of this strange pair, the sailor stoog
upon a rock overhanging the sea gazing out over
the tempest-swept Waters.

The clouds were dark and threatening vio-
lence, and the sea lashed into fury by a gale of
a cougle of days’ duration, were hurlin tremen~
dous reakers upon the island, that f rly shook
it to its foundation.

In the years that had passed since he had
landed there cne pleasant spring afternoon, with
a wee child his only comrade, the sailor had
changed much.

His dark hair had fisown long, until it fell in
many waves upon shoulders, while then
beardless, he now wore a heard that reached to
his belt and matched his hair in whitenem, giv-
inglhim a patriarchal 100k.

is attire was that of a sailor, and his face
was kly ~bronred while his eyes were very
brigh ; but there was a look about him as
thou h he was a sufferer from some dread disease.

“ do hope the boy has not started in this

ale; but he said he would come to-day, and

t would be just like his daring spirit to set sail
even in a tempest.

“My eyes are not what they once were, so I
cannot see beyond a league—I must get my

He walked back toward the cabin, a hundred
yards awa , with a slow step, soon re-
turned wi his lass, with which be swept the
horizon of the w ly raving waters.

It was nearing night, and the clouds were
darkenin still more. the sea wilder,
and the ads increasing with a that nearly
blew him from the rocks. '

Suddenl he uttered a cg; half of joy, half of
alarm, a then followsd words:

“It is the shallop! but God have mercy! the
boy, daring as he is, can never run into the
basin in this mad storm.

"Oh Heaven! do not destroy his you life
upon the ve threshold of manhood!” an the
white-haired ermit of the Isledropped upon

his knees on the rock, and raised his hands in
supplication to Heaven, as he beheld out upon
the tempest-swept waters the small sloop strug-
ling toward a aven.and upon whose deck he
Egew there was but one human being—a mere
y.

 

CHAPTER IV.
rion’rlnu nan-a.
HAVING given utterance to the supplication
for the safety of the boy. the white-haired man
stood with straining eyes to watch his course.

 

gm.

.t'i. y,v
,-. .1. .

  

The craft he gazed upon was the same little
shallop which a dozen years ago had brought
the strange pair, an oil man and a child, to the
island.

It had been well kept, repaired when needed,
and with a new suit of sails, was as good as
ever.

A week before the lad had started in her to
Portland, for stores and medicines for the old
man, who was ill.

But though on former occasions the two had
always gone together, the sailor knew that the
boy was fully capable of handling the shallop in
all weathers, so had allowed him to go alone.

Now he saw that the lad, true to his word, had
left Portland when he said he would, and was in
sight of his home, with a fierce storm raging and
growing more furious every moment.

“ The equinoctial storm has come sooner than
I thought it would this year—I had not bar-
gained for such wild weather as this when I let
him go alone.

“ Oh! if he should be lost, then the past years
of In life are but as naught.

“ would die here alone, and no one would
ever know, none of those red-handed devils that
took his life would ever be made to feel, and the
boy would not become the avenger that he must

“ No! no! no! He must not, shall iot die.

” Ha! night is coming on and it w ill be black
as ink, and I stand here like a fool, When I may
save the boy—yes, I may save him!”

He fairly shrieked the last words and at once,
with a speed that one would not expect from one
of his seeming years, ran back to his cabin.

Soon he returned with a large armful of pine
wood, and quickly he lighted a fire upon the
point of rocks, that blazed up fiercely in the
gathering gloom.

Throwing some more wood on, that it should
not die out, he again sought the cabin, and with
another armful of pine knots fairly ran along
the ridge toward another clifl.’ a couple of hun-
dred ards away, and which was just over the
little sin where the shallop found a harborage
when at the island.

Here he built another fire, and its bright rayh
went forth over the black waters.

“ Now, if he steers for the lightning-liven
pine, which these fires reveal, he is safe—if he
swerves the length of his boat he is doomed,”
said the Sailor Hermit impressively.

Meanwhile, the night had come on black as
ink, and the bowling of the winds and thunder
of the surf upon the rocky shore of the island
was appalling.

With the darkness the teth increased,
and out upon the mad waters was the little
shallop. '

She was reefed down, with her jib reduced to

x~ iv'
.- «are.

the smallest size, her topmast housed and her  I

mainsail set to one-fifth its full expanse.

The hatches were battened down, the com- ,

ionway to the cabin closed, and crouching
Kathe cockpit, his eyes fastened upon the two
fires gleaming out from the island, was the lad

whose nerve and skill guided the destiny of the ’ l. “

little craft.

The man on the island hastened from fire to , 

fire, to build them up, so that their bright rays

should not fail the lone boy mariner. '
He was his strengt

3033;?“ he heeded it not, for he sought to so.
e .

Ifoneof thoaelighlzfailed, the end wasceo- - 

tain, and with them success was not assured.

Sohestruggledpn, hasteningfromfiretoflrc,
and piling on the pi
large supply piled up at the cabin in preparation
for the coming winter.

The lad himself had put them there, and now .,
' orth valuable results to 

his work was bringing
himself.

Now and then theold man would hesitate bem-
tween the two ' at the hose! a massive.

pine, the of whic had beenriven by light-'
. ning, and would sweepthe wild waste of
waters with his 51::
“ My God! be gone down!

“ I was a fool to dream any small I could
live onanight like this—ha! ha! ha he has‘
not gonedown! he lives! he lives! the ,
comes bravely on! bravo! bravo! that boy is a ,
wonder! Ahoy, ahoyl oh—” . fl

He did not finish the words, which came in an

hestaggeredbackward
gfihangingbranchesof a small treoandsnnk
8 . ‘

an lip. were stained‘with blood, and a steady

stream trickled from his mouth.

Buthestartedu oncenmasheheu'dfrom’:

the very depths him: "
“Ahoy! ahoytheclifl!” ,

The hail was backhmflna; 
We 

swer to his own,and the
reply, but was unable and sank hack upon the
rooky path.

Andnotahundred ardstrom where he 

“all: main through th break in the

e j ,
reef, gu by the two lines, which now ' ,
down upon her decks h tly, " ‘

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crouching form ofthe ,as he tooklfi his).
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head. while a cheer broke from his lips at the
victory he had won over death.

Like a frightened whale the little shallop was
driving along being low in the waters, reeling,
staggering, plunging, her decks swept by the
waves, but held unerrin ly on until she darted
out of the firefight into t e darkness of the rock-
sheltered basin and was safe.

In boyish delight there came from the lips of
the daring helmsman a ringing cheer; but no
answer was heard from the cliffs overhead.

He had soon the fight against death with the
odds in favor of the mighty destroyer, and as
his little craft glided into quiet water he ran her
into the mouth of a small creek, s rung ashore
and hastened up the path towar the cabin to
come suddenly upon the form of the old sailor
obstrch the way.

CHAPTER V.
m nanmr’s STORY.

Wrrn an exclamation of alarm, and a feeling
of dread at his heart, which his great danger in
running the gantlet of the reefs into the basin
had not . caused him to feel, the young sailor
raised the form of the old man in his arms and
bore him toward the cabin.

He showed a strength that was remarkable,
and yet he seemed to think little of his load.

Arriving at the cabin he placed the limp form
n n the bed, and as a ship’s lantern revealed

1 distinctly he started as he beheld the red
stain upon the white beard-and clothing.

“He is not dead, thank Heaven! but he has
had another hemorr , and this seems to be
the most severe of all cried the youth, and he
sprung to the cu and takin out a bottle
and cup, gave the man a drink of randy, fairly
forcing it between his ii

The effect was soon evxdent, for the eyes open.
ed, a flush came into the pale face, and the
breath at first labored soon became natural.

“ It is you, my boy! I feared for you; but

 

you are here?”

“ Yes, Father Will, I am here, safe and
sound; but I am sorry to find you ill again.”

“ It was another hemorrhage.”

- “ Yes; but I have your medicine with me,
and you’ll soon build up again.”

“No, Malcolm, the struggle is coming to an
end, for I feel it.

“ The winter is coming on and it will soon be
over with me.

“I had hoped to live to see you reach man’s
estate; but though a boy in years this night show-
ed that ou were a man indeed, for never did I
see a ho der, braver struggle than you made.

“ I could not have run that gantlet myself.”

“ Your lights saved me, Father Will, for it
was so black I could not see the island until the
fires blazed up.

“ With them, as long as the shallop could
stand it, the run was easy.”

“ You make light of it, my boy: but I know
.what our nerve and skill accomplished.”

“T ere Father Will, an must not talk. but
bio and after a dose of
your medicine you will go to sleep and awake
all right in the morning.”

The old man yielded and an hour after he
sunk into a comfortable sleep, while the youth

‘ sat at the table near readin

He was very tired, but dgi. not wish yet to re-
as he seemed to feel that his companion

As he sat there the lamp swinging over the
table cast its light full u n him.

His form was not yet lied out, but there was
the indication that he would make a powerful

man. .

His shoulders were broad his chest full and
his amen“ that of an athlete, while his face
was ing in its look of fearlessness, conscious
power in himself and intel once.

It was a face unstam by sorrow or care,
andthe light in his eyes and expression about
his mouth was yous and full of mischief. ;

For awhile t old man sl fully, and
the outh sat reading his boo , while the winds

-'j',, bowed savagely without and the whistling

   
   
  
  
 

r-

i
 II"’I cannot

 ,uhinmound

through the e(pines that surrounded the stone

like the wailing of departed spirits.

Then Elia: old man became restlel, and at last
eyes.

' 1‘ 3“ Malcolm?”

“ Yes, Father Will.”

“ I feel that I am growing worse.

“ I am feverish, and it is not right for me to
put on longer a duty I have to arm.”

.  J ‘I “ To-morrow you will feel be r.”

“There may be no to-morrow to ma, M31-

 colin.

“ Come, draw your chair up near me and lis-

" 13? ten to what I have to say.”

“ I fear you will onl excite yourself by talk-
and brin on anot er hemorrhage.”

sip it, for I must talk, must tell

you of yourself.
The boy started, his face flushed.
At last he was going to learn who and what

m I
He had often longed to ask, to know about
himqu but the onewhom he loved as though
he was his father, was wont to say: ,,
“ Some day. nay son, when you are older, and

 can and

 

]{The time had now come, and he was to know
a .

“ Draw near, for I wish to talk in a low tone,
and I do not want my strength to fail me.”

The lad gave him a glass of brandy and drew
his chair up to the side of the cot.

“ I never taught you to believe you were my
child, Malcolm, so brought you up to call me
Father Will.

“ By no other name have you known me, and
I believe you only know yourself as Malcolm.”

” That is all, father, and when in port I have
been asked what my other name was, I have
only been able to answer that one name was
onou h for me.”

“ our name is Malcolm Meredith Mountjoy,
my son, and your father was a creature of cruel
circumstances, as you shall know.

" To begin with, my name is William Wilder-
mere Rutledge; but my father was a man so
mean that he ill-treated my poor mother, and
after her death of a broken heart, he drove me
from his home, and so I drop my last name,
and have been known as Wi Wil ermere.

“For the life I led my father was responsible,
for had he been kind to me, given me the advan-
tages he should have, I would have been a dif-
ferent man, and not now be dying here on this
lone island, a fugitive, a hermit, with you alone
by in side.

“ ut enough of myself, for I went wrong.
and I met your father, to whom I owed a debt I
could never repay, for I owed him my life.

“ Your father, Mark Mountjov was his name,
was well born, the son of a worthy cle man.

“ But he was full of mischief, and his pranks
made the little town where he lived too hot for
him, so he ran off and Went to sea, and soon, by
gallant acts, became a midshipman.

“ But he could not kee out of mischief, lost
his berth by dismissal, an again won it back by
some daring act, to be again dismimed.

“ He was not wicked, but had an overflow of
spirits that got him continually into hot water
and trouble.

“ Then he disappeared for a long time, to re-
turn as master and owner of a fine schooner.

“ But his parents were dead, and a maiden
whom he had alwa s loved since the were
school-children toget er, had sold horse f to a
rich old miser, to save her father from financial
ru n.

“ That old miser, let me here tell you was
Peter Rutled e, my father.

“ Your fat or was dealt a severe blow by the
death of his parents and loss of his sweetheart,
so put to sea again, after ying for a fine
ritilonument to be erected over is father and mo-
t er.

“ His vessel was taken by a pirate, and for a
long time he was forced to serve as an officer on
the freebooter craft.

“ While in New Orleans he saved a beautiful
maiden the dau hter of a wealthy lanter, from
bein kidnap , and some time a for at sea his
veslse captured a brig on which was this very

r .'
8‘“ Her name was Alma Shields, and she was
your mother.

“ Her father had lost his fortune and com-
mitted suicide, and she was on her way to an
old relative in New England.

“ This second meeting with the beautiful girl
brought about a reformation in your father,
and he followed the lady to New England made
her his wife, and they found a home in éalem,
a port which you know I would never enter.

“ With a little coasting schooner, formerly a
smuggler craft, and which he had named the
Winged Arrow, he was doing well and the fu-
ture seemed bright before him.

“But it was not long before our father dis-
covered that both he and his w e were avoided.

“ Somethin seemed to be wron , and a bitter
persecution 0 him followed for s vessel was
seized as a smuggler, but released as no proof
could be found against him.

“You and your brother were then little in-
fants.”

“ My brother!” asked Malcolm, deeply inter-
ested in the story of his father’s sad and strange
career.

“ Yes, for your mother
you and your brother.”

“ And my brother?"

“Is dead- but to my story:

“ A naval (floor, Cafptain Fred Spruel of the
coast guard cruiser Vi ette, was one of your fa-
ther’s bitterest foes, it seemed, and on one ni ht
he caught the Winged Arrow in a posi n
where her guilt as a sin ler seemed assured.

“ I, however. oomman ed acraft, which I had
been paid well to fit out and have a cargo of
goods on board, which was supposed to be con.
traband, and for no other purpose than ,to en-
tra‘p cu; father.”

on

“ Yes, for I did not know then that he was
the one to whom I owed my life.

“I carried out my plot, pretended my vessel
was sinking. at your father to take the goods
on rd a out n us darted the coast
guard Videtts and I said that the Winged Ar-
row was nzoonfederate.

“Your thsr was seissd, taken to Salem,
and while myerew escaped with me and my

gave birth to twins,

 

vessel, as was already planned before, he was
tried, found guilty, and sent to prison.

“ But when here I learned who he was, and so
made in confession that your father was guilt—
less, an be was released.

“ I forced the man in whose pay I was to do
this, or risk exposure, and your father again
went to sea, but this time as part owner in a ves-
sel in which I Owned the other half, and we were
goin as Whalers.

“ he man who bribed me, let me here tell
you, to plot against Mark Mountjoy, had been

is schoolmaie in bovhood, and was his rival for
the love of Lola La Salle, the maiden I tuld you
your father had loved, and who became my fa-
ther’s second wife.

“ Loving her, Ezra Vail, this arch-plotter,
was determined to desire your father in re-
ven e, and in the end, by eaven, he succeeded,
for e brought your father to his death at the
ro ’s end.

he youth sprung to his feet, and cried in a
voice hoarse with passion:

“ You say that my father was hanged ?”

“ Yes, and he was as innocent of the crime
charged against him as you are, as his confes-
sion, which I have for you, will rovel”

“ Before the high heavens will cruelly
avenge my father’s death!” cried the boy sailor,
and he raised his face and right hand, as though
appealing to Heaven to register his vow.

CHAPTER VI.
TEE SLEEP OF DEATH.

Bl: calm, Malcolm, for you must know all
and I am not strong,” said the old sailor, Will
Wildermere, when he saw h0w excited the outh
had become, when the fate of his father he been
made known to him.

“ i am perfectly calm now,sir, so would know
all,” said the lad suddenly gaining complete
control over himself.

“ That is right, my lad, always command
yourself, and then you can command men.

“Never allow yourself tobe surprised into
showing that you are taken by surprise at any-

 

thin .

“ gchool your face to be marble when you
wish it, and never show what you feel.

“ Give me some more brandy, for I am fail-
ing‘ fast, I fear.”

he youth obeyed. and the old sailor resumed:

“ I told you that your father was hanged.

“ I must tell you how.

“ He was, with me, part owner of a fine craft,
and we started upon a whaling voyage.

“ Your father was captain, was rst officer,
and we had for second a S niard by the name
of Estrella, and he had pic ed the crew, so they
were his men. ~

“ He led a mutiny, and your father was seized
and ut in irons, but offered his freedom if he
wo d act as first luff under Estrella.

“ I was made the same offer as second.

“ Your father indignantly refused, but I ac.
copied, for I had a plot in view.

“It was a long time before I could carr out
my plot, and in the mean time Estrella ha rob-
bed the entire whaling fieet and many other
vessels besides.

“ Your father, often on deck, his feet in irons,
was seen on board, and the result was that he
was believed to be the irate captain, and so
went the report back to slam.

“At last I had all ready to act, and struck
my blow against Estrella; but it would have
failed had not our father broken loose from
the ringbolt tha held him in the cabin, seized a
cutlass, and making his way on deck, turned
the tide in my favor so that we won the day.

“ Well, he illed Estrella and reassumed com-

“ Our ship was in a bad condition, however,
and we were caught in a storm and wrecked.

“_We took to our boats, and but one of the
frail supports that I ever heard of reached a
haven.

“ That one was the boat containing your
father and in self.

" Those w th us died of starvation, but I re-
served some food secretly and kept us alive.

“ Well, we had the irate treasure in our
boat, and we brought it ere.

“ We buried our dead men. am! we buried the
iron box as we did them, abndbit is in one of the

u of was over w ic you put head-
ms, “Ru: the names of the dead in the
wood.

“ The one that holds the iron box is the one
on whose board is the name ‘Estrella,’ which I

ve to you as that of the man beneath.

“ It was his treasure, ou know whizh your
father and myself claim as his heirs.

“After leaving the island we made our way
toa seaport on the coast, and not wishing to
use the pirate treasure, unless we were forced
to do so. I decided to force my father to give to
me ten thousand dollars with which we could
buy another vessel.

“ I asked your father to go to Peter Rutledge
for me and demand it; for the money he had
founded his fortune on was mine, as it had been
my mother’s. '

' Peter Rutledge believed me dead, and hoped
so. as he knew I could claim at least my moth-
er’s money.

 

taunt-—

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‘w.w.~»w we “ -
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' an innocent man.

V sagor had dropped to sleep.

' Monte;  

5

 

 

“Your father went to his old rookery one
night and made the demand.

“ M father was wild at the thou ht of losin
his go (1, even a part of it, and attac ed him, bu
with fatal result, for Peter Rutledge fell by the
hand of Mark Mountjoy.

“ In disma your father fled, and he wan-
dered into Sa em, was reoognizedas the Whaler
Freebooter, and a mob dragged him into the
woods in the rear of the town and banged him.

“I had gone to Salem, disguised as an old
man, and found my way to your father’s side
and told him who I was, and that I knew all.

“ He then demanded pen, ink and paper, and
made a confession, which he gave to me to de-
liver to on when you grew to manhood.

“ He de me be as a father to you, to tell
you what his confession did not tell, and to do
my duty by you.

‘I have done all in my wer for [sought
you out, and, as the nurse WE: had you in keep-
ing would not give you up, I kidnapped you
when you were but three years old, and brought
you here.

“ l fitted out the shallop, for I had some
money, with all we should need, and came here
to this island, where lies the treasure.

“ I sold out my interests in the city, when I
was last there, and I have in this cabin ten
thousand dollars in gold, every cent of which is
yours.

“And more, that treasure in the grave be-
longed to your father and myself.

“ It was our vessel and Estrella made us the
sufferers, so what booty he gained we claimed,
for who else can claim it.

“ That treasure I now will to you. But until
you need it do not touch it, as the ten thousand
in the chimney yonder will be all you need for
several years. |

“ I have taught you, my lad, all I could of
the world and of men.

“ You have not been brought up in ignorance,
and to—day few men are better advanced than
you are.

“ You have studied hard, read much, and the

 

glances you have had of the towns and people
have told you what toexpect. while no better
sailor lives than you, young as you are.

“1 ani dying, soon will leave you, and then
the world is before fyou to go your way.

“ Ponder well be ore on make a step, and go
forth into the world w th this kn0wledge that
your father met an ignominious death though

“The confession tells you who is your bitter-
est foe, and that man, your father s rival, and
his son, now live, respected, honored and rich.”

“ But my mother, what of her?"

“ Your mother?” and the old sailor spoke the
words with deepest reverence-

“ Yes, you have told me that m father was
hanged as a pirate, my twin brot er is dead,
but you have told me nothing of my mother, so
I ask you, Father Will, what of her?”

There was no answer, and so long did the
youth await that he at last felt that the old

. e had—he had sunk without a struggle into
his last slumber—the eternal sleep of death.

 

CHAPTER VII.
A rarnrcn’s comssros.

THI trainin which Malcolm, the Boy Hermit,

 received, fitted him well to battle with
l e.

He had been well mint by old Wildermere, as

the Hermit Sailor called himself after be—
ing driven from his miseriy father’s home, and
the boy knew not the sensation of fear.

His insi ht into the world, personally, had
been only rom his glimpses of men and life at
the seaports.

t the first liehhad been regaby the hermit
e was no is son an t
would learn all about his ’ ts. some day be

He had at last faced the moment when he
must know all.

The Hermit Sailor had told him much of his
father. but nothing of his mother.

His lips wore now sealed by death, but he
knew that his father’s confession was left toi

in.

What would it tell to him that he did noti
know?

Many youths would have been awed in the
presence of death, alone on that drear island.

But Malcolm calmly surveyed the face of the
dead, his hand laid u n the forehead of the
Hermit Sailor, while is eyes grew dim with
unfihed tears. i

ong erema ned thus and then ntl re-

pared the dead for burial.’ 39 .y p

With asense of grim dut Wildermere had
made for himself a coffin, an it was kept in an
out—house near. and this the youth brought into
thiiiabim' ii a brigh l

e 0g re eats a t are throu h the

cabin, and by its light the Bogy Hermit glaced
the body of the odsailor in the rude cofiln.
Then the youth went to a closet in the wall of
the cabin and took therefrom a tin box, which

 

 

be unlocked with one of several keys which he I

had taken from the hermit’s belt.
The box centaiued sevoral bags of gold, a red

morocco case also looked and a leather wallet
0 rs.

eigelanced at the gold and laid it aside on the
table, and a small key fitting the case he opened
it.

There he saw revealed two miniatures set in
gold, as was the style in those days.

One was the miniature of a young and very
handsome man, in a sea uniform, and
the youn hermit could not but see that he was
strangely ike the pictured face.

“ It is my father,” he said aloud and he read
engraven beneath it the name, “ Mark Mount-
joq‘,” with a date.

hen he gazed upon the other miniature and
involuntarily there brain from the lips of the
Boy Hermit: - _
f ; ’It is my brother, I know! ah! how beauti-
u l ’

Beneath this was the name “ Alma Shields
Mountjoy,” with the same date that was be-
neath the miniature of Mark Mountjoy.

The face was of the S nish type of beauty,
and the artist had done is work Well, portray-
ing the exquisite loveliness of the features, the
sad expressron in the eyes and the full, red lips
so full of passion.

For a lon , long while the youth gazed upon
the pictur faces of his parents, and his thoughts
were bus the while.

It was ard for him to believe that the noble,
handsome father he gazed upon had been stran-
gled to death by a mob, and his brow grew
dark, his lips sternly set as he recalled the scene
it must have been.

And his mother! What had been her fate?

With almost dread he turned to the wallet of

pa rs.

There were the log of the brig which had been
turned into a pirate, by Estrella, and then he
glanced over some old letters which gave him a
further insight into the past of his parents.

Next came a paper written in a bold hand and
addressed:

“To MY SON MALCOLM.”

There was a date on it, the date on which the
Hermit Sailor had told him his father had met
his death. v

Then the Boy Hermit read aloud, slowly and
in a voice that at times quivered with emotion,
the followrng confession:

“ With death, an ignominious death at the hands
of a maddened mob, staring me in the face, my son,

. I writ; these lines to you, lines that will be given to
’ you

my faithful friend, Will Wildermere, long
after am crumbled to dust.

“ My life has been an unfortunate one, and I fear
my own wild acts in youth led to the sorrows of
future years that came upon me and others through
in

e.

“Good Wildermere will tell you of in life. for he
knows all' but let me tell you here, wi h death be-
fore me, that I am guiltless of the crime of which I

. am charged

“As furtherizgroof than mly word, the log of the
brig, kept by trella, will te the story of my sad
lot, and his crimes, for which I am to suffer.

" Your mother loved me with the whole on of
her nature, and born a lady and reared a luxury,
she came down to the poverty of my life without a
murmur.

“ t foes dogged my steps, and persecution well-
n h drove me

When at last I believed my sorrows were at an
end, I found they were to be more cruelly severe,
for one night a band of outlaws, hired I fee sure by
m arch enemy, Ezra Vail, landed at my home to
ki meg carry me 0!.

“Bet had t been that death came to me then;
but, instead your noble mother was the sacrifice, for
she fell dead under their murderous fire upon me.

“1 gas wounded and it was long ere I was again
rn se .

X Then I found a green mound in the little church-
yard to mark where lay the ashes of my wife, our
mother, and you were under .the care of a fal hful
nurse, who told me the sad story of your twin
brother's death.

“Then it was I went with good Wildermere upon
the whaling voyage, and was made out the pirate
these ple now believe me.

“ W ldermere will tell you of my mission to his
father; but, let me tell you, my son, that I fled from
that scene with horror for in Peter Rutledge, the
man I was forced to kill on that night. I recognized
the husband of Lola La Salle, the one I had loved .ln
my boyhood, and she, coming into the room at her
husband'g cries. saw, and knew me.

“ Then lied and caring not where I went drifted
t0 Sitlem. and i0, here I am in the hands of merci—
less men.

“Such is the confession, my son. that our father
makes to you. and Heaven forgive me I say that I
hope, through you, the one who made me suffer
must be made to feel something of the agony they
brought upon me and mine.

But I must close for my murderers grow im-
patient for my blood. _

“ Wildermere will give to {you my share of old
Estrella‘s pirate treasure—it s yours. your father's
leglacy. and it is my wish that you may become a

or.

“ Farewell.

“ Your father,
_ “than Mommies.”

 

CHAPTER VIII.
ran SAILOR-BOY HEBMIT.
WHEN the dawn crept into the cabin of the
Hermite of the Isle, the young sailor lad was
:till eiwlake, for he had not closed his eyes during
he 11 t.
He ad -read his father’s confession, and then

 

    

jotted down on the back of it the various things
told him by old Wildermere.

He had often taken up the miniatures and
gazed upon them, and then had read the logs of
the irate brig through several times.

us had the Sailor-Boy Hermit passed the
long hours of that dismal night of storm in the
cabin, with the coffin of the old Sailor Hermit
before his eyes, and his father‘s confession in his

and.
h_With the dawn he went out and looked about
im.

The storm still raged in fur , and the sea
dashed against the island “it a force that
made it tremble at times, as though it would be
forced from its foundation. .

The skies were overcast and it was growing
colder, for winter was coming on rapidly.

Back among the ines went the young sailor,
until he came to t e graves of the dead sea-
men of the brig, whom his father and Wilder-
mere had buried there.

“ Yes, that is the ve of her treasure, and
its head—board tells a ie,” be said, bitterly.

“No, I will not bury him here, but over
yonder on the cliff, where his grave can be in
sight of the 

“ It was his favorite point of lookout.”

He retraced his way to the cabin, secured a
spade and shovel, and going to the cliff he had ,
referred to, to dig a grave beneath a
hu e pine that stood there.

e worked hard and at last it was ready for
the dead, and he went back to the cabin to cook
his breakfast.

This he soon get rid of and takingathe coffin
upon his shoulder the young sailor d bore it
to the grave and lowered it into its last resting-

lace.
p The grave was filled in. and upon the face of
a large rock that was at its head, with chisel
and hammer the lad cut the name of the sailor
and his date of death, with the words:

“ TRUE as STEEL."

A fittin tribute were the words to the mom.
or of Wi dermere the Hermit of the Isle.

Having done his duty to the dead, Malcolm
returned to the cabin toagiin look at the miniao
ture likeness of his parents, and to go over and
(War the confession, the letters, and the pirate
brig’s log.

All through the day. and the next, the storm
continued and then a calm follow

It seemed to soothe the heart of the young ‘

sailor, in whose breast bad now been surginga  ’

tempest of hate, of bitterness and sorrow.

He then went over the money that had been
left him by the old hermit and said: '
“ This will do me; but I must know about

that treasure. though I care not for it now.”

He went out to the grave on whose headboard
was the name of Estrella, and began to throw
the dirt out of it.

It was du deep, but at last his work was re- ,
warded by t 0 ring of metal against metal, and '
with a considerable eflort he raised outof it
narrow bed aniron box such asshipsused as
treasure-chests in the olden time.

It was about two feet long by eighteen inches
wide, and as many in hight.

It was so heavg that, strong as he was, the ‘
youth had some di culty hearing it to the cabin, .
and there a key, from the old hermit‘s ban
was at last turned in the rusted lock and the
opened. . '

The contents revealed some leatherhags of
gold and silver, and many of them, with some 
jewels and trinkets, evidently taken from some '
grand ladies whom the pirate brig had robbed
on board packet ships at sea.

There were a pair of pistols of rare workman-
ship, several knives, Spanish and Italian, the
hilts of gold and gem studded, and a few watcha
and rings of value.

The young hermit looked over all, made an
estimate of the value of the jewelry as best he
could, and the ems, counted the mone , and
said, with some ow of excitement in v es and ‘
manner: ' '

“ What a fortune is here. r

" And it is all mine; yes, all mine. .

“ It is in inheritance from my father and
dear old ildermere; and I will use it well,
when the time comes that I need it.” . _

He returned the treasure to the iron box, 
locked it up once more and bore it back to the

rave.
g With block and tackle, ri ged to a limb Over.
the grave, the Sailo: -Boy ermit lowered the
treasure-box back into its resting-place and then We
carefully filled in the grave once more. I '

The winter had new set in, and the boy made
up his mind to remain on the island until the
spring should come. .

He knew that for himself al e he had stores 
enough on board the shallop to at him. for 
months, and these were carried up to the cabin. “r

Then the shall was swun upon davits pro:
jecting over a r y shelf, an made secure  I
the winter. on A

Among his purchases when last in a port, the
youth had a number of books, some maps and
other things with which he could add to hi

i knowledge of the world and its people, and he

 
  

determined to spend the long mouths of 

 

 

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’ :Monte, the Mush

“a: “an: .y.

eer.

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in earnest study, which would the better fit him
for the career he meant to follow.

He was a natural-born sailor, and he had a
love for the sea that was intense, while a vessel
to him was the most beautiful thing in crea-
tion.

He had built miniature boats, and the old
sailor had told him he was a genius in that line
and some day to have a boat built after one of
his models and it would outsail the very wind.

He had never forgotten the ad vice, and during
the winter be rebuilt his model, from keel to
truck, and placed it away for future use when
the time would come that he should need a
Vessel.

Thus the young Sailor Hermit passed the long
winter months, and that it taught him self-
reliance and much that was useful to him in
future years there could be no doubt.

At last the icy winds ceased to blow, the sun-
shine held warmth in it enough to bring out the
leaves on the trees and make the grass spring up
fresh and reen. ’

The sh op was lowered into the basin,
scraped, (painted and put in perfect sea-going
trim, an‘ one morning in May the 'oung her-
mit closed his cabin, cast a lingering look of
farewell upon the grave of old Wildermere and
all on the island, and going on board the shallop
hoisted sail and glided out of the little bar-
borage.

He had decided upon his future and sailed
away to begin the career that was before him.

CHAPTER IX.
pursues 'ro aim TRUST.

A won“! sat in a small but comfortable
home, back in the mountains of Vermont.

It was a farm-house, situated back from the
villa e of Bellows Falls, and from the little
porc in front a fine view of the valley, with its
windin stream and here and there a hamlet,
cluste ng around a church. could be seen.

The woman had a kind, strong face, and there
were traces about her of having Sossessed real;
beauty as a girl, and which 01 age ha not
faded, for she was scarcely over thirty, but
rather sorrow, for its stamp had been indelibly
stamped upon her features.

She was neatly dressed, and she was watching
the capers of two wee children who were play-
ing upon a ru near her.

‘ Ah me i they were only mine,” she re-
turned, sad y.
“ hey would be a tie to bind me to earth,
for I love them so.

“If they were but mine! but I have no child
or kindred to bless my latter years.

“ Twelve years ago in this ve spot I was a
happy girl of seventeen, pure as t e snow then,

 

i Joy‘ous as the birds.

irecall it as though it were but yesterday.

‘ ., and the dear old parents I loved sowell, my

:2 at here to my old home.

7 ,’ to swim his horse acrom the swollen r
x torun away with him, an

. *andlwandered about g

g, (I
‘hinito
r..,-u1

brother and my sister.
“ Yonder tomb in the shadow of the church
rests over the ashes of my nts now, and of

’ -\ Bophy, my sister, while my rother was lost at
rues.

“ I recall that evening when a stranger sou ht
ver

w en
the ferry was washed away, and how I dragged
him out of the waters unconscious.

“ He spent weeks here, our guest, and I loved

him so.

“ Then f tting the hospitality shown him
the gratitudm owed my parents, he urged nu;
1 weak and Wicked I

yielded.

'“Ah me! he treated me well, and for two
years was hap y—then she came, his wife,
and I knew that was not a wife, that he had

'4 deceived ms cruelly.

“no deserted me then es, my child and I.
e’ttving work as I could,

for I dared not come home.
“Then my child died, and it is strange that I

u did not end in days.

“But so hln

last I t the
woman,‘0 Mrs. Mgu

urged me against it, and at
as nurse with that level
ntjoy, to care for her litte

vtwinbo s.

y
‘ “ Ah me! how sad her fate, and when she fell
.Inder the fire those lawless men poured upon
,her husband I tied with the two little darlings,
and some strange impulse brought me back

“ 1 found my parents, my sister, in brother

[dead but the little home and the arm had
,bsen'lefttome.

! “It seems so stran e for metobehere, and
with these two little es, the darlings.
’z “ But their father will not make me vs them
up, I , for I would so long to care or them.
' . “He wounded now, but s better, the letter
of'tlti: doctomi‘d, and hietb‘giat he wanted
In, come soon w e es.

. ‘And must I give them up?

0‘ he will go to snaggin, so I will beg

at me keep them, to as their mother.

_ _ . seetbemail-ooach coming,» Iwiligogo
"' thcvillagcandiindoutifthere is a letter f r
.. l

me.
“Ifeeisonervous at thd thoaght of giving?
.wthmhflw,”am she took the two ch -
drenupin. , mandkissedandfondlsd
mmthtbcdcepsstnflection.

 

Then she carried them back into the kitchen,
and leaving them in the care of an old servant
woman who with her husband had been in the
family for two-score years, she ut on her bon-
net and walked down to the vi] age, a mile and
a half away.

“ Any letter for Miss Phoebe Farrar?” she
asked, giving the name of her irlhood, for she
had no claim upon the name of t 6 man who had
deceived her.

The freckled-face boy behind the counter of
the store, where the letters were opened, handed
her one, and she hastened away, ere she broke
the seal. . .

On her way home she opened it and sitting
down on a fallen tree read:

“ Sauna, Oct. 10th, 18—.
“ DEAR. Miss FARRAR—i

“ You will see by this letter that I am again able
to be up. for my wounds are healin rapidly, and I
must once more begin the struggle 0 life, for though
my poor wife is dead, I have my little ones to live
and care frr.

“Living with us as you have the past year, on
know how cruelly l have been persecuted; but do
not despair and shall sell out here, invest my little
all in a vessel and go away on a long voyage some-
where.

“ You have proven ‘yourself so devoted to our in-
terests. and so good to the little ones, that 1 Wish to
have you still remain as their muse. and will try
and manage it so. for a dear friend of mine offers to
take them to brin up for me. ..

” But please br rig them to Salem next week, and
let me have them near until I go to sea.

“ I am glad you took them awa with you. for the
mountain air will do them a work of good.

“ Expecting you next week, 1 remain,

“Very sincer‘em M "
ax oumuov.

The Woman crumpled the letter in her hand
almost savagely, and springing to her feet walk-
ed rapidly on homeward.

There was a strange look upon her face, and
she said over and over again as she walked
away:

“ I will not give them up—not both of them,
no, not both. _

“ The friend who will take them is that rich
old maid, Miss Kettridge, the aunt of Mapr
Deering, and she would have her own nurse to
care for them and give me up.

“ No, I will not give both of them up.”

One week after Phoebe Farrar faced the father
of the little twin boys, and her face was sad as
she told her story to the man who must needs
be dealt another blow, for he was informed that
one of his children was dead.

It had sickened one night and suddenly died,

and in the bur lug-ground of her own people
Phcsbe Farrar ad buried the little innocent.
“ My God! must I ever be dragged by ad.
versity and sorrow?” cried the stricken man in a
voice that quivered with intense emotion as he
looked back over his sad past.

Then the woman turned appealineg to him
and said:

“ Let me bring it u , for I know the little fel-
low so well, and will as a mother to it.”

“ I am sorry, Miss Farrar, but I promised
Miss Kittredge she should have them and I
must kee my word as far as this ii e one is
concern , though I would have been glad to
hagenhad him with you, had I known you wish-
ed t.

“ indeed I do wish it, and yet I must ield.

“ But did you ask her if she would e me as
his nurse?" .

“ Yes, but she has her own nurse, who has al-
ways been with her.”

“ Well, sir, 'teii me if she needs me at any
time, a letter to Hillside Farm, Bellows Fa
Vermont, will reach me,” and the woman turn
away, and, having delivered her little charge
up at The Barbering the home of Miss Kitt-
regge, she returned her home.

on days after the neighbors about Bellows
Falls were surprised to learn that Miss Phcnbe
Farrar had sold Hillside Farm‘ for so much
cash, bade farewell to her old servants and gone
no one knew where. _

Had there been a suspicion in the heart of
Mark Mounth that all was not right, and a
detective had put upon the track of the
woman, he would have found her dwellin in a
neat little cottage on the Highlands of ave-
sink, overlooking New York Bay and the broad
Atlantic beyond.

.She had appeared there one day. purchased a
little farm for cash, and with an old negress and
a farm hand hdd settled down to a quiet life.

But there was another member in her family
that must not be overlooked.

It was a tiny boy—the little child of Mark
Mountjoy who was supposed to be dead and in
the grave in the Farrar burying-ground near
Bellows Falls, Vermont.

And to the neighbors about her new home,
Phcehe Farrar was known only as the “ Widow
Wands.” -

CHAPTER X.
A PIEATE’S son.
. Wm Mark Mount had sailed in the brig
of which he was put £03m, and Will Wilder:
mere his partner he had felt that he was leav-
ing adveni inhis wake, fix what other sor-
rowscould ollow himif ' V

 

 

His wife was in her grave, one of his little
twin boys was buried, as he believed, in Ver-
m: at, and the other was in the care of a kind
friend in Miss Kittredge, the wealthy mistress
of The Harborage.

But the reader has seen that the cruelest of all
adversities befell him, for he was seized as a.
mutiucer, put in irons, and men believed him to
he the pirate that was sweeping the seas.

Then came the recapture of his vessel, the
shipwreck, the return home, the killing or old
Miser Rutledge, his flight and fearful death at
the hands of a mob.

He had intrusted to Will Wildermere his boy,
believing that Miss Kittredge would believe him
also guilt , and wish to get rid of the little Mul-
colm an his shipmate in adversity had gone to
The Harborage, and, when the lady indignantly
refused to give up her little protege, he had de-
cided that there was but one thing to be done—
kitlnap him.

The little Malcolm had been intrusted to his
keeping, he had his inheritance, the )irates’
treasure, on the island on the coast of laiue,
and he would keep his pledge to Mark Mount—
joy and rear the child to manhood.

And so, believing that he was doing his duty
in keeping his pledge to Mark Mountjoy, Will
Wildermere laid his plots well, and one ni lit
the wee Malcolm was missmg from The ar-
borage, and though Miss Kittredge spent large
sums in search of him and his kidnapper, they
could not be found.

And no wonder, for the night he had stolen
the boy, Will Wildermere had carried him on
board his shallop and set sail for the Treasure
Island on the Coast of Maine, there to live the
life of a hermit, and rear Malcolm Meredith, as
he called him, in his own way, as has been seen,
until at last the young heir to the pirates’
treasure, set sail one spring morning alone in
the shallop to carve out his future in his own

wa .

Ind his twin brother, whom Phoebe Farrar
had falsely said was dead, and whose form was
supposed to be 1 'n in the little grave in the
churchyard near 1 ows Falls?

He, too, had been raised in the sight of the
sea, for from the cottage in the hi blands the
wild surf of the Atlantic was plain y visible as
it thundered upon the shores of Sandy Hook.

In the winters, as the boy grew in years, the
“Widow Wanda,” as she chose to be known,
went u to the city and the boy was sent to
school; at, in the summer months he wasal—
most constantly upon the waters, for his pre-
tended mother had bou ht for him a sail-boat,
and in it he would dare t e worst storms on the

ba .

He would go out with the bold fishermen in
their little craft, and the daring hit of the lad
attracting the attention of the earless pilots,
who went far out to sea in their stanch schoon-
ers, that were wont to take him with them on
their cruises, and in this way he learned much
of vessels and the sea, and heard of the great
world beyond the ocean.

One day the lad returned from an extended
gruise in a craft that had gone to the West In—

me.

He had urged his so-called mother to allow
him to go on the v0 age, and a month after an
incoming vessel had rought in a boat picked up
at sea, and bearing the name of the brig in
which the boy had sailed.

Other vessels coming in had picked up debris
at sea, also having come from the brig, and
there was no doubt but that she had gone down
in a storm, or been cast ashore.

The Widow Wanda was wild with grief, and
she Id mourned for her lost boy that she broke
down and went to bed with brain fever.

And one morning the boy came into the cot-

t e.

aThe bri had been wrecked, but he and several
others ha escaped, and he had worked his way
back from Cuba on a clipper-ship.

And he found his ado mother raving in
delirium and calling to h again and again to
come back to her.

That night he took the place of the old nurse
and sat up with her.

At midnight she awoke with a start. and then
came the startling words uttered in delirium:

“ Don‘t haunt me, Mark MountJoy, and I’ll
tell you all—yes, I see the mark of the cruel rope
about your neck, made when they hanged you,
and I know you re“ uneasy In your rave,
searching for your lost boy, Malcolm—di I say
Malcolm! Well, I forgot which one it was——
they were so alike you know, and so I had to
call him Malcolm, because I thought he was the
one I pretended was dead, and told you I buried
at Bel ows Falls.

“ But he is not dead, Mark Mountjoy, so why
should you. a ghost, ioook for our son on‘earth?

“ Go back to your grave an! leave him to me,
for he is a brave, bonnie boy how.

“ Yes, a lad who dares do what any man dare,
and they sa he is th best sailor, and the bold-
est. man or y. on t s wild coast.

“ I tell you, Mark Mountjoy. that your son—
whom I call by his Christian name, Malcolm
Meredith, is alive and well—whé should I call
{din 'by your name, when you ed on the gai-
ows

 

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 4* '1,
' 

' Monte; the Mutineer.

7

 

 

“ Ha, ha, ha! No I kept that stain from off
the boy, Captain Mark Mountjoy—his mother
suot down by the lawless men who sought your
life, and you afterward hanged for piracy.

“ It is better that the brave lad knows not all
this, and so I keep him here as my son, and he
shall know nothing of the past.

“ I deceived you when I told you he was dead,
but then I loved him so, so God will forgive my
crime!

“ But where is my boy now?

“ Ship ahoy! Have you spoken the brig
Black Swan, and was my boy, Malcolm Mere-
dith. on board?

“They said the brig was lost, but no, no! it
cannot be that my boy is dead.

“ His father’s ghost is here demanding him of
me! Ship ahoy! ship ahoy! send my brave boy
back to me!"

She fairly shrieked out the latter words, and
the lad, who had sat like one spellbound, sprung
to his feet and approached the bed.

But the effort had exhausted her, and she had
fallen back and dropped into a deep sleep.

White-faced, with compressed lips, the boy
stood gazing upon her.

He had heard from her lips, in the raving of
delirium, the story of his life.

He could not doubt it, even thou h the words
were prompted by the fever-rack brain of the
woman.

The story was too well told.

At last he said, and his voice was low and
trembling:

“ So you are not my mother.

“ How strange that I have often felt and be-
lieved you were not.

“ And my own mother was slain by a lawless
band, who sought my father’s life?

“ And my father was hanged as a pirate?

“ And you stole me from my father, and made
him believe that I was dead.

“ My Godl what have I not heard this night
from the lips of a delirious woman?

“ Henceforth I go my way, if she gets Well;
but she need not know all I have heard of her
crime.

“ No, I will go my way in the world, and she,
if she lives, can remain here: but she has been

ood to me, has loved me, cared for me through
nfancy and boyhood. until I now stand upon
the threshold of manhood, and she shall never
know want; no, I shall care for her to the end
of her life. ‘ -

“ But there is work for me to do, for I must
know all of the past—I must solve the mys-
tlelries"that hung over Mark Mountjoy, my fa—
t er!

He the room until the moonlight stole
ifnhand the woman all the while slept peace-

u .
Then the nurse came in, and soon after she
called him, for “ his mother” had awakened,
and was conscious.

Her fever and delirium had left her.

Gladly she welcomed him back, as from the
grave, and with him near her she rapidly gained

or former health.

He waited until she was wholly well, and then
one day told her that he was going on a long
v0 age.

ntreaties were useless, for he was firm and
one day a ood ship sailed around Sandy Rock,
and she her course across the seas, and upon
her decks was Mark Mountjoy’s other son, also
going to seek his fortune in the world.

CHAPTER XI.
m ramaa, man son.

UPON a ridge, overlooking the pretty town of
Salem, in the grand old commonwealth of Mass-
achusetts, there were visible, until a few years
ago, the walls of what had once been a very ele-
gant house.

It washuiltofltone, and in thedaysofwhich
I write, was classed among Salem’s most elegant
mansions. .

It was the abode of Ezra Vail, the rich whaler
ca tain and merchant, whom the Salemitu de-
lig ted to honor. _

Captain Vail had former] lived in another“-
seaport town, where he a branch of his
large shi ping firm, but for reasons best
known to himself, had dec1ded to make Salem
his home.

So he had bought Hillside Hall, paying cash
for it, and furnished it with an e Qance that
amazed the simple citizens of the town.

He got about him half a score of servants,
had horses, on a yacht, and seemed to
make the best on, v clues, I

And yet he was not married, for his wife had
died leaving him a y , boy toraise.

This boy, Rupert Va , had been ven every
advantage. and w up with the be ief instilled
in his mind that e was to he the richest young
man in New Enghnd-

Ezra Vail had a secret romance in mum, and
one which seemed to have brought out his true

nature.

He had loved most desperately ayonu irl
in his native town by; the name of LoIa
Selle, who had a sister thel, efimlly as beauti-
ful as herself, and strangely 0 her, for they
were twins.

- But Lola, from her earliest childhood had

 

 

found her boy hero and lover in the Episcopal
clei'gyman’s son, Mark Mountjoy, and thus Ezra
Vail had hated that young man with all the
venom in his nature, and, refused by Lola, he
had gone away from home and married an
heiress, who, dying, left him their son Rupert
to rear.

A widower, he had again sought to wed Lola
La Salle, and was again discarded, and then he
sought her sister’s hand.

But Ethel had a lover in Roland Monte, a gale
lant young naval oflicer, and Ezra Vail was
again refused.

Then Lola married old Peter Rutledge, the
miser, and this so infuriated the Whaler captain
that he vowed to be one day avenged for the
slight cast upon him.

Long years passed by and changes came for
where Ezra Vail added to his wealth, Mark
Monte, the naval officer, who gave up his vessel
to 0 into the merchant service, met with only
bad luck, and when lost at sea left his wife and
two children nothing, while Lola, she who had
loved Mark Mountjoy and had sacrificed herself
to Peter Rutledge, the miser, to save her parents
from financial ruin, saw afterward that the
sacrifice was in vain, and was sentenced to death
gpon the gallows as the murderess of her hus-

and.

In her cell the reader has seen her, a short
while before her execution, and it was Ethel
Monte, her sister, who had found misfortune
30g lher steps almost from the day of poor Lola’s

eat

With this explanation I will ask the reader to
accompany me to the elegant home of Ezra

a1 .

The master was seated in his library, after
supper, enjoying a cigar and with a decanter of
sherry at his elbow.

' He wasafine-looking man of fifty or there-

abonts, dressed with the neatness of a fop, and
wore considerable jewelry.

About him was every luxury heart could wish,
and volun‘ies of rare books Were at hand on the
shelves.

But Captain Vail was not in a reading mood,
and sat gazing into the log fire with the air of a
man whose thoughts were far away and not of
the pleasantest either.

At last the hall door went to with a bang, a
quick step was heard, and into the library came
a oung man of striking appearance.

hat he was Rupert Vail, the son of the rich

mica-chant, a glance revealed, so much were they
a 1 e. '

He was tall, elegantly formed, dresed flashily,

and affected jewelry as did his father.

Upon his face there was stamped intelligence
and boldness, and it was a very handsome face,

too.
“ Ah, Rupert, I have been hoping you would
come in, for I have something important to say

to you.
“ Sit down and help yourself to a glass of
sherry and a. cigar.” '
The young man threw himself into an easy-
chair before the fire, dashed off a couple of
glasses of sherry and, almost viciously it seemed,
it the end of! a cigar and lighted it.
“ You seem worried, my son.”
“ I am.”
“ And wh i”
“ Well, w th all in money and good looks, for
I know I am not y, I cannot win that girl,
Ethel Monte: but feel that I could do so if it
were not for her brother. ”
“ Ahl there is the rub—her brother; and it is
upon s an W18 spec wit on m
nthi bjectl ’hto k 'hy , y

son.

“ All right, father, out with it; but I love her,
though she has not a dollar, and in spite of the
chaiges brought against her brother.”
th“ ah! he was lucky enough to disprove all of

em.

“ But, Rupert, you have often wondered at
the strange interest that I have taken in youn
Mark Monte and his beautiful sister, Ethel, and
some day I promised to tell on.”

“ Yes, I have wondered, or you generallylare
nogglnterested in paupers, and they are 'itle

“ In fact! was amazed when you told me to
go in and win the girl, and wondered what there
was behind your consent to do so.”

" I’ll tell you' and as sherry is not a good
foundation for along story, get the brandy de-
canter and fill up the clgarcase, for the serv-
ants have gone to bed.”

The son lazily obeyed, and then said:

“ N0w, father, I am all ears for that story.”

“ Well, I must begin a long wa back when
I loved the mother of Mark and the] Monte,
for I never loved your mother, m son.” '

“ Indeed?” and the young man nowned.

“ No; I married her out of spite, when Lola
La Salle, that was the maiden name of the wom~
an I loved, refused me.”

“ Andcyet you turned Mrs. Monte out of her
home an persecuted her.

“ You have gotten over ’your love for her and
let revenge take its place. ~

“ No; I laved her to the last; but I never
loved Mrs. Monte, though I asked her also to

‘ me, for she was Lola's twin sister.”

,ou  in Mather-Jar you just

,.,

     

' :\
A - .
I .i. V x.
v tarsal: : r

l

 

l

    

said you loved the mother of Mark and Ethel
Monte.”

“ And so I did; but Mrs. Monte was not their
mother, nor was Captain Roland Monte their
father.” ,

The young man laughed, and asked, impu-
dentIl‘y:

“ ave you lost your senses, father?"
“ No; I mean what I say.”

“You tell me that this young sailor. Mark
Monte, and his beautiful sister Ethel, who has
refused to be my Wife, are not the children of
the gentleman and lady whom I used to know
as Captain Roland Monte and wife?”

“ They are not.”

“ Why, father, you—”

“ They were their adopted children.”

“Nonsense!”

“ You remember of hearing how, long years
ago, Mrs. Peter Rutledge killed her husband
and was hanged for it at G——?”

“ I do; and she was Mrs. Monte‘s sister.”

“She was; and these are the children of the
woman who died on the gallows, Lola La Salle
that was, the one whom I loved, and who loved
Mark Mouutjoy, who was hanged as a pirate
not a hundred yards from where we now are,”
was the res use of Ezra Vail,. and his look
showed that e knew he was making a startling
assertion to his son.

 

CHAPTER XII.
A LEAF FROM THE PAST.

RUPERT VAIL sat a moment as though trying
to fully master the situation as revealed to him
by his father.

He knew that Captain Roland Monte, an ex-
naval officer, had met with misfortune, and been
lost at sea, leaving his wife and two children,
Mark and Ethel, to mourn his loss, and also
leavin them penniless.

Mar , the 'son, had been a sailor on board his
father’s vessel, and upon him had devolved the
care of his mother and sister.

But for SOme reason his father had seemed to f ‘ 

wish to dog young Monte’s life with adversity,
while he, Ru rt lovmg Mark’s sister, had
been sur rised)e that his stern parent, loving
riches as 6 did, urghd him to win the beautifu

rl.
81His father had hinted to him, as a secret, that
Mrs. Monte was the sister of Lola Rutledge,
who had been hanged for the murder of her
husband, and this was another reason‘ that
Rupert could not understand why his father
rnaised no objection to his marrying Ethel
te.

on
These thoughts flashed throu h the mind of

the young man, as he sat in some after his '

father’s words, and then he said:

“ Father, I hope on intend to let me under-
stand the situation oroughly, and not keep me
in the dark.

“ We are interested together in all affairs,
and ,I know your business as well a= yOu do
yourself, so if there is any thing obscure that
you can throw light upon for me, ray do so.” ' '

“ That is 'ust what intend to

begun by to li you that Mark and Ethel are
{heeghildren 2? the hanged woman whom I.
ov .

“ Now 1'11 go back and let you into a secret.” ‘ \

“Ihope so.”
“When Lola cast mood, and loved Mark

Mountjoy it made me revengeful towardboth .

of them.

the murder of her husbnfid, old Miser Rut)
I went to her in the Jail, and told her I w
aid her to escape an would go far away from
here with her, if she would marry me.” .
“ And her answer?” - o ' '
" It shame: me to tank-you, my son, that she
drew a jewel-hiked knife upon me and drove up
from her cell.” 4
was’nt sher’and

u spunk
lau his ather did notlihei'but 0 said:

“ es.she.wasfullofgri andtoldmesho ‘1

veteran being hung“? ” ing Mrs. Esra
all.” ,a: ' "

Again 1R J laughed. and the father said:-
“ You ' y my diacomfiture, While,
when Ma y. to ve you that severe thrash-1‘.

      

_, . h for; you.” ,
  Rupert Vail between his
'  at hisfathcr’s expense 
.t on” c ; "3

Theold man smiled
limes": a V .

“ That was a sliot silenced him.”
he continued:

on - 5";
“ Now, after I left the jail *1 saw a carriage. g:
‘}

ridge up and ’a lady‘in black and deeply veiled
on r. ‘
“ She remained there a long While. and I fol-'-

lowedg her to the train, saw her take passage in '

the much and leave the town. I
"I put a spy on her track, and though she"
had not given her dwn name at the inn or fut

iton the stagecoach books.bnt that of ‘Ma 
gang.” I knew she was Ethel Monte,  .
. o ‘ , ;.

in Roland Monte.
“ My detective followed hertoacertain, ,
 of Lola Monte were“ 

 

o,and Ihavo _‘

.7)

“ When she was condemned to be hanged, for "

I  whohad never met your.

'y, and muttered 

.I

x,
,

   
   
 
  
  
    
    
   
        
  

rtla'ughed.n  3'

 

 

‘ advice, giving ho names

heir."

' who with his wife, a Southern lady, liv

 

" ,u: y v .- ,,.. 

Monte, he Mutineer. '

 .3... “I 3733.". Nam. . in 4 ,3‘1.“

 

their nurse. and the latter was well paid and
dismissed and the two little ones taken away.

“ I then ran down to the town where Captain
Roland Monte, then a naval officer lived, and
found that he had changed his place of abode.

“ For years I could not find them, and then,
as captain of a merchant vessel Roland Monte
appeared in Salem, bought Clifl Cottage and
brought his wife and the children he pretended
were his.

“ One was Mark, the other Ethel.

" Now Lola Rutled e had named her son after
her old lover, Mark ountjoy, and her daughter
after her sister Ethel.

“ These two are her children, and her sister
adopted them, no one knowing that they were
not her own.”

“ And yet you are willing for me to marr
the daughter of a woman who died on the ga -
lows”

“ You are the only one who knows this, be-
sides myself, for the children, I am sure, do not
know it.”

‘f As for that I do not rsonally care, for I

see I love this girl as early as you did her

ead mother who was hanged.

“ Perhaps so; but let me go on with my story.”

“ I am all' attention, dear father,” re lied the
young man, pouring out a stiff glass 0 brandy
and dashing it off.

The father followed suit, smacked his lips, and
continued:

“ You are not aware, I believe, that the estate
of Peter Rutledge was a very large one?”

“ I have heard it said that he was rich.”

“ Yes, and he left to his wife all he possessed,
with full executive powers, and this was astrong
case against her at the trial, for it was said that
she wished to get rid of him and have his
money.”

H I *8.”

“ Well, when she died she made a will.”
(I h 2’7

“ She left to her two children, Mark and Ethel,
equally. her entire fortune, to be held in keeping
for them by the Bank of the Commonwealth,
and to be given to them when they reached the
ages of twent -one and eighteen respectively.”

“ Aha, m ear father, I begin to see through
a millstone. ’

“ The bank officials were sworn to secrecy as
to the children, and were to invest their prop-
erty for the best profits, and they have done so.

‘ Now those three bank officers are dead and

the bank holds the property, subject to the de-
mand of the heirs, on roof of their rights.
n“ In case eithe heir ied, the other was to get
8 . '
“ These proofs the heirs have, and Mark
Monte, as he is called, will soon be twenty—one,
anfl his sister eighteen. .

° Neither know that they are not Captain and
Ethel Monte’s children, and neither know that
they are heirs to a large fortune, but have been
to] to go to the bank at a certain date and send
in their names and certain papers will be turned
over to them.

“ Now do you begin to see light ahead?”

“I do, my wise and ted father, I do,”
was the earnest response 0 the young man.

 

CHAPTER XIII. ,
A PLor FOR GOLD.

CAPTAIN EZRA Van. hel himself to a glass
of brandy and water, and ighted a fresh cigar
with the air of a man who had more to say, an
knew its full importance.

Rupert Vail, now deeply interested and no
longer sneering, sat awaitin his father to con—
tinue his narrative, and he id not again touch

' , the decanter of brandy, for he wished to have a
' clear head to understand all, to grasp the situa-

tion completely.
“ Now, Rupert, knowing these facts as I did,
I wished to work toget possession of Lola Rut-

-ledge’s inheritance to her children.

“As a bank emcerI discovered these facts,
from one of the then executors, who asked my
and yet I knew just
who was meant, es ialiy asat trustee meet-
ing: the property nown asthe ‘Rutledge Es-
ta .’ was constantl comingu Mdiscussion.

“I know that t e estate as increased in
value ten-fold, so that those two, Mark and
Ethel Monte, will beeither of them far richer
than I am, wealth as I am to-day, while
should Mark die, h s sister would be the sole

I
“ I see, dear father, I see it all.”

“New, as thou h to filay into my hands to
win,‘along comes ark ountjoy, Lola’s lover,
when you were a little bo , and did all in my

wer to end his career, nowing he would be

u my way if I sought to at possession of the
Rutledge property, and t en hated him, so
acted for revenge. 1

“‘ I got Captain Spruel, then the commander
of the coast guard cruiser, in my debt, and
him my tool to get rid of Mark Mount oy,

at
wh t you now know as Clifl Cottage, but then

w called the Ivy Lodge.
“ He had two children, twin boys, and at last

' g? I got him hanged by a mob, after his poor wife

 

had been killed by a lawless gang in my pay,
who had attacked him at his home.”

“ You are painting yourself in glowing colors,
father mine,’

“I am telling the truth to my son, whom I
know to be of the same stripe as myself."

“Ah, yes, like father like son; but to your
most entertainin story.”

“I had no wis to harm Mrs. Mountjoy, but
she was killed by accident, and her husband
badly wounded.

“ But he recovered, and found one of his
children had died, and what became of the
other twin the Lord only knows, for I could not
find out.

“ Mountjoy went to sea, half owner in a
whaler, and she became a pirate; but I believe
he was not guilty, for his crew mutinied and
held him risoner.

“But is e bri
and did much
wrecked at last.

“ Mountjoy esca and came to Salem was
recognized, and a little urging of the me on
from me, in a qpiet way, caused them to hang
him as a pirate.

“ But he was innocent?”

“ Doubtless, but I had my revenge.”

H I see.”

“ Three years passed and I came here to live,
Wirchasing this place, to keep my eye upon the

idow Monte and her children.

“Then you remember, when our brig Dart
was about to sail from G— how our second
mate failed to Come, and just then a young man
came up and applied fer a berth?”

“ Oh, yes, Mark Monte.”

“ True, and he went as second mate; but I
had told my Arab Inate, Selim, whom you re-
call I saved from death, and who served me as a
slave would, to kill Mark Monte, if he hacfito
destroy the brig to do so.

“ He made the attempt, and the craft was
lost on the coast of Africa, and Mark Monte
alone escaped, as we believed. and was for a
long while a prisoner to Arabs.”

“ I know all this, father, for it was when
taking his pay to his mother and sister I learned
to love the beautiful Ethel.”

“Yes; but he esca and returned, when I
was sure Ethel was t e only heir, and I had him
arrested and tried for mutiny, and he would
have been hanged, had not the Dart’s skipper
who also had escaped from the wreck, appeared
and cleared him.”

“ Why review this, father, for do I not know
it all?”

3 Oh, yes, but it comes into my story as I tell

attacked the whaling fleets,
amage as a cruiser, but was

it.

“ Now when Mark Monte returned, you know,
I was about to force Mrs. Monte out of her
home, which I had bought, for non-payment of
rent.

“ And she was dying at the time.”

“ So I discovered, but at the time I believed
it was put on, that she was playing sick.

“ Mark Monte, to get me to at is mother re-
main, si ed a paper, pledging himself to obey
my bid ng whenever should call upon him,
for any service, if I would let his mother remain
in posscssion for a month Ion r.”

‘ In that time, I recall, t at he got money
and offered on the rent, but you refused, so
you must stil hold this per against him?”

“ I do, Rupert, and shall force him to sign
away, for a certain consideration, all of his in-
heritance, for as he has esca my plots against
his life, his sister alone she] have all that es
tate and she is to be your wife.”

“ by she has refused me time and again.”

“ Do not know that?

“ gut she can be forced into a marriage with

u

“ I almost half-believe she is en ed to this
Captain Malcolm Meredith of the Dove,
who has been such a foe of the Whalers.”

“ No he saved her life, on remember, the day
her ski upset in the bar r, and she may love
him, for she will not believe him to be a pirate;
but she did not marry him before he sailed upon
his buccaneering cruise.” I

“ I sincerely hope not, for if she did not, then
I shall force her to marry me.”

“ It most be done, but how?”

“Why, we can get her brother into a tight
place, say arrest him as a smuggler or pirate.
anrfi mow he sh all hang if she does not become my
m e.

t “You are a good plotter, my son, I am glad
0 see.

“ And more, we must get this fellow, Mere-

dith, and hang him, so if she should secretly be

,his wife, we can readily make her a widow, and

then you can marry her.”

“Certainly; but we must not act openly.”

“ Oh, no; gold will buy others to act or us,
while we may appear to have nothing to do in
the matter.” _

“This pirate. Malcolm Meredith, has hit as
hard in the pocket. father.” .

‘ “ Yes. but we will even up with him when we
catch him.” .

“ Yes' when we catch him.”

“ Well. the fleet'will soon be home, and then
we will know all: but he certainl has proven
himself a foe to the whalers, an I’ll give my

I

beat ship to catch and hen him,” said the old
whaler, who, to get gold, ad been gmlty of
man crimes, and was still plotting others.

Li 9 him in character was his only child, Ru-
pert Vail, who was swa ed by his love of riches,
revenge, and the love 0 Ethel Monte.

The old Whaler had gained his revenge in the
hanging of Mark Mountjoy, his rival in the past,
and now he meant to get the gold of the woman
he had IOVed, and who had refused him, by
gainih possession of her children’s fortune.

He 9. one knew that Mark and Ethel were not
Mrs. Monte’s children, but those of her sister,
Lola Rutledge, who had been hanged.

That the children knew of the fortune awaitin
them he knew was not the case, or they would
nothave lived in verty.

And certainly rs. Monte had died before she
could tell them the true story of who the were,
it indeed she had intended to do so, aving
reared them as her own children.

Thus stood matters when Captain Ezra Vail
and his son Rupert set to work to plot the death
of Marl: Monte, which would leave his sister
Ethel sole heir, and then _she must marry Ru-
pert Vail, by fair means if possible, by foul if
necessary.

 

CHAPTER XIV.
THE HEIRS.

CLIFF COTTAGE was a pretty little house on
the shore of Salem Harbor. .

It was a place with a history, for in the past,
a score of years before, it had been the home of
Mark Mountjoy, who had been hanged as a
pirate by a Salem mob, and there had his beauti-
ful wife met her death at the hands of lawless
midnight marauders.

And for the misery in the past life, the cruel
end of Mark Mountjoy and his wife, Captain
Ezra Vail had been in the main responsible, for
he had dogged his enem as untiringly as he
now meant to dog Mark cute, and in fact had
already done so.

Cliff Cottage was delightfully located, had
six rooms in it, a pretty flower garden, with a
rustic arbor in front», a kitchen garden and
stable in the rear, with a pretty piece of wood-
land near and hills in the background.

That there had been stories of the past re-
garding the cottage, Mrs. Monte knew when she
went there, but seemed not to care.

What she knew of that past she kept to her~
self, and the secret of her visit to the jail to see
her condemned sister, and that Mark and Ethel
were not her children, but those of the beauti-
ful woman who had died on the gallows, she
also kept hidden in her heart.

And in that cottage Mrs. Monte also died
and her lips revealed not the story to Mark and
Ethel of t eir birth, and so no suspicion came to
them that they were not the children of Captain
Roland Monte and his wife.

‘ Upon his return from his life of aslave among
the Arabs, Mark Monte had found his mother,
as be supposed her to be, dying, and the cottage
sold and stripped of furniture, all gone to give
her what comforts she could have in her last
hours.

In his des ir, penniless and wretched, the
young sailor ad signed a paper, a pledge, as it
were. to obey the bidding of Captain Ezra Vail,
and then he and his sister had been left to bury
their dead. .

But there was one thing of value which Ethel
had not parted with, a miniature likeness of
what she supposed to have been her mother in
her girlhood, and which was really so, and not

led 6, who had died on the gallows.
win sisters they were strangely alike. Lola
and Ethel, and Mrs. Monte had given the minia-
gure to Ethel, and it had been sacredly kept by
er.

But, with no money to bury the dead, she had

given it to her brother to go and get a loan upon,
ittle dreaming how valuable it was, for it was
studded with precious stones.

Mark Monte had borrowed enough men? on
it to buy back the cottage from Ezra ail,
through another rty, place a monument over
his mother, and t en flt up and refurnish their
little home, and bitterly did this anger the
whaler merchant, who knew not from whence
had come the money.

He wo 1d never ave sold the cottage had be
known at Mark Monte was really the buyer,
and seeing himself and his sister seemingly
above want and not knowing the depth of their
purse, he began to plot their ruin, or rather the
destruction of the young sailor, and which would
thus place Ethel in the clutches of himself and
so}? thus forcing her to become the coaster’s
WI 9. .

So it was that he had l‘im arrested as the de-
stroyer of the brig Dart, of wlflch he had gone
as mate, and foiled by the return. of the cap-
tain. who thus saved the young sailor, be yet
determined upon another plan to bring ruin and
death upon the man who stood between his son
and Ethel.

One day, while Mark was a slave to an Arab
mastev in Africa, there had sailed into the her-
bor of Salem a beautiful brig.

Her arrival was opportune, for Ethel was
returning from the town in her skiff, and over-

 

»

Mrs. Monte for it was the likeness of Lola Rut-

 

 

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‘f' H . vb .
“New”. _.  v . ,
v. ,. yr: '14) f '-

Monte, the Mutineer.

9

 

 

taken by a storm was capsized, and would have
drowned, had not the young ca tain of the brig

» sprung into the sea and rescu . her.

He gave his name as Malcolm Meredith, and
said he was a sailor who owned his vessel, and
drifted about the world looking for freights.

He was, in fact, a sailor of fortune, and a
dashing fellow, handsome, brave, and dressing
with rare taste, he was the very man to win a
woman’s heart.

His vessel was as trim a craft as had ever
dropped anchor in Salem Harbor, and his crew
were a splendid lot of men.

He lingered for long weeks in Salem, having
lost his heart to the beautiful Ethel, and then
sailed to join the whaling fleets, he said, and
bring home a car 0 of oil.

When the Sea ove, which was the name of
his fine brig, sailed, it carried with it the heart
of Ethel Monte for she had learned to dearly
love the ban some young “ Dandy Sailor,”
as Malcolm Meredith was called, and had
promised to become his wife upon his return to

rt.

But months passed away and he came not,
and then as the brig on which Mark had
sailed had been reported lost with all on board,
adversity came upon Cliff Cottage.

But Mark returned as from the grave, and yet
Malcolm Meredith remained away.

But stran e, wicked rumors were told of how
Malcolm eredith had turned his brig into a

irate, and under her changed name of the
Red Dove, she was the bitter foe of the whaling
fl

These stories Ethel would not believe of her
lover; but, as though she must be made to suffer
still more, the blow of Ezra Vail was struck,
and her brother was arrested for “ mutiny, mur-
der, and robbery u n the high seas.”

He was accu by Ezra Vail of having
wrecked the brig, Dart, with all on board. to

et possession of the money which the captain

ad with him to buy cargoes for Vail St 00.,
at Mediterranean ports, and, as he had appear-
ed to return home penniless, and then launched
forth in seeming extravagance, it appeared as
though there was cause for the charge against
him, for no one knew how he had raised the
money upon the gem-studded gold case of the
miniature left to Ethel by Mrs. Monte.

And so Mark was arrested one night and
dragged of! toprison, and r Ethel sat bewail-
ing their unbappgolot, w en suddenly a. visitor
appeared at Cliff ttage.

hat visitor was none other than Malcolm
Meredith, the commander of what had become
known as the pirate brig Red Dove, and whom
the whalers had come to dread as their bitterest
foe.

 

CHAPTER XV.

THE DENIAL.
It was indeed Malcolm Meredith that appeared
before Ethel Monte, as she sat mourning in the
cozy sitting—room of Clifl’ Cottage after the ar-
rest of her brother Mark upon a charge so ap-

pulling.
He ad come back to her while the town was
ringing with his nameas a. pirate.

A s lendid-looking (fellow he was, as he a '

are before her there, with the lamplight fa lJ

mg full upon him.

His form was elegant as well as athletic, and
his uniform was the perfection of elegance.

His face was fearless, his features perfect, and
there rested upon his countenance a look that
was very winning, and as light-hearted as a boy
he appeared.

A glance showed him that the beautiful girl
before him had been weeping, and was in dee
distress, and he asked her in a low voice, ful
of tenderness to tell him of her troubles, add-

ing:

" Could I only believe, Ethel, that you worried
for me, that your tears were because I had been
so lon gone, and you had. never heard of me,
I won (1 be happy, be repaid for all I had suf-
fered.”

She looked at himtwith a strange expression
upon her ace and said:

“ I hav shed bitter tears for you Captain
Meredith, for I have heard, oh! such Wicked
stories of you." i

“ Stories of me?” he asked in surprise.

“ Yes, I have heard so much that was fearful,
and at I haye not, could not believe them.” ‘

“ less you for those words, Ethel; but how
you can have heard of me I cannot understand:
but tell me of ourself first, your mother, your
brother, and a l, and then I will tell you of my
long stay away from on, and I know you wi l
forgive me when you now all.”

She looked into_ his face with an expression
upon her own which he could not fathom, and
then said in a voice that quivered:

“ You ask of my mother-she is dead.”

“ Dead 1”

“You ask of my brother—he has just been
dra ged oil' to prison accused of murder and
rob ry upon‘ the sea.”

“ To prison?” \

H Yes”!

“ Your mother dead, our brother in risen?
“ This is fearful, Ethe ; but come. sit reand
let me know just what it all means.” , v

 

 

He drew her to a seat, and then she told her
long and bitter story of persecution, death and
sorrow.

Now and then he asked a question, and that
was all, for he made no comment.

When at last she finished and looked at him,
she was fairly startled by his face.

Its sunny look was gone, the lips were firmly
set, the eyes seemed to fairly blaze, and the color
had faded away leaving him livid-hued.

But he was rfectly calm, and said:

“ So Ezra ail was putting your dying moth-
er out of her home when your brother re-
turned?”

H Yes.”

“And he it is that has now arrested Mark for
the destruction of his brig?”

“ It is.”

“ The brig’s name was the Dart?”

t‘ Yes. 1?

“ Sailed from Salem?”

(I Yes.”

“ It had a first mate who was an Arab by the
name of Selim?” «

“ So Mark told me.”

“ Her captain’s name Was Hudson?”

“ Yes, Captain John Hudson.”

“ All were lost, you sa .l”

“ So Mark reported, but said he had seen the
captain reach the shore, but when the Arabs
had been searching the bodies that of Captain
Hudson was missing, the waves having carried
it back into the sea.”

The sailor was silent for some minutes and
then said softl :

“ My poor the]! how you must have suffered;
but I am here to protect you now, so all your
troubles shall end.”

“ You! why, Ca tain Meredith, I tremble
:5»: for fear you wi be discovered and arrest-

“And why, Ethel?”

“ For piracy.”

The young sailor laughed.

“ Piracy? Do you mean it."

“ Indeed I do.”

“ I am interested, Ethel, so tell me what you
mean?”

“ 1 mean that when you sailed from here on
said you were going to join the Salem Wha ing
fleet. ’

“ I did expect to do so.”

“ And months after news came that the Red
Dove your vessel—”

“ Mv brig is the Sea Dove, Ethel.”

“ Well, the name was changed to the Red
Dove, and it was reported that you had visited
every captain of t e fleet, with forged letters
from Ezra Vail & Company, and other owners,
ordering the skippers to pay you certain sums
of money."

The sailor broke out into merry laughter at
this, but said:

“ Pray go on, Ethel, for I am interested, I
assure you.”

She could not understand his manner, but
continued:

“ Then you went back to the fleet captains
and raised more money, to again disap r, and
when the messenger ship Winged Wh e was on
her way to the fleet you overhauled her in your
brig and forced her captain to give up to you
the money he had to pay of! the seamen of the
Whalers with.”

Again Captain Malcolm Meredith burst forth
in a merry laugh, and though his manner was
incomprehensible to Ethel, it yet cheered her in
her belief that he was not what he had been re-
ported to be, on he/would not make so merry
over it.

“ Please continue, Ethel, for your story
grows in interest.”

“ The Winged Whale returned and, reported
all of your acts of outlawry, and then the fleet
set sail for home and you headed off the different
vessels, again boarded the flag-ship Niagara,
under old Captain Isaac J ubal, an was taken
prisoner.”

" Yet here I am.”

_ “True, but it was reported, by a vessel that
Just arrived ahead of the fleet, that your brig
sailed awn , after. you had boarded the Niagara
and been ken, and in a couple of days what
appeared to be a.Govermnent cruiser, an armed
schoonerncame in sight, and hailing the ship,
the captain said‘vhe had captured the Red Dove
and would carry you on in rons to Salem.

“ So Ca tam ubal ve you up, when the
crew of t e schooner c eered, you took com-
mand and as the pretended cruiser sailed away
film chpnged her rig backinto that of the Red

eve.

“ Why this is a‘ remarkable narrative, my
dear Ethel, and I am _ the hero of it here in
Salem, you say?” ‘

“ You are, or your escape is now the town
talk, as well as your iracies.”

“ Do not be severe. thel, for a man is inno—
cent in law until he is proven guiltv; but you
say the brig is called the Red Dove?"

‘ Yes.”

“ ud her captain bears the name of Mere-
dith?" '
 $3 Malcolm Meredith.” i

is me, ri man ma uerad and
my name, Et 13’”: V ‘ sq '  

‘l‘.

    

“ But he is said to be your exact image, Mal-
colm.”

“ Ah! this is stranger still; but, Ethel, even
though appearances are against me, I pledge
you my word that I am not guilty of these
char es.

“ did sail from here to join the whaling
fleet, but met a vessel that turned me off my
course. It was a wreck with a valuable cargo,
bound to the Mediterranean Sea.

“ I took it there, lost my vessel, and have been
the risoner to Moorish corsairs.

“ escaped, made my way to Cuba, had an-
other vessel, the counterpart of my brig, built,
and having made some money in certain car-
goes, I returned here to explain my long silence
and absence to you, and ask you to become my
wife.

“ Now I return to find on have been most
unha py, and that 1 beer t e name of a pirate.”

“ es, Malcolm, and though I have not
doubted you, though I believe there has been
some terrible mistake, there is a rice set upon
your head, and you will be arrest and banged,
so you must not remain here—you must go at
once.”

“ I do not care to be hanged, Ethel; but I
never desert those in distress, so I will go that
i may serve your brother, yes, and prove that
I am innocent of these crue charges.

“ Cheer up, little woman, for I pledge you my
word your brother shall not hang, and your
lover is not a pirate, you may be sure.

“ But 1 have no desire to be hanged, so will
act accordingly,” and as there came a nock at
the door of the cottage, the sailor qu ckly en-
tered an adjoining room; but, after seeing her,
visitor, Ethel went in search of her lover and
found that he had mysteriously departed, leav-
ing no reason for his having done so.

 

CHAPTER XVI.
’THE RECOGNITION.

WHEN the morning dawned, the vessel of Mal-
colm Meredith was not seen in the harbor, and
the good peo le of Salem little dreamed that the
bitter toe of their whaling fleet had been in their
very midst.

Si ce it was known that the commander of
the Dove had made his escape, there was
much anxiety felt in Salem, all fearing that the

noted Rover would run into their harbor and do "

them some harm.

Had those who- were on the wharves the
mornin after the visit of Malcolm Meredith to
Ethel fonts, taken particular notice of a brig
that lay at anchor near the upper end of the
harbor, they would have noted that she was a.
stranger, t
come into port.

She was a weather-beaten craft, with rusty

sails, bluff bows and a high stern, and at her,

peak floated the English flag. ,

All was quiet on board, and to a casual ob-
server she looked to be a foreign trader; but a
critical examination by a thorough sailor would
have developed the fact that she was not what

she appeared, but wearing a disguise for some ,

reason best known to her skipper.

A boat put off from her about nine o’cloek,
and in the stern-sheets sat a gray—bearded,
white-haired man in the dress of a sailor, and

at, under cover of the night, had .

his'two oarsmen looked like the ordinary m ' ' ' *

men of a merchant vessel.
Landing d a wharf, the. old skipper dismissed

his boat, with a few words in a low tone, and '
walking with a cane, and in an attitude slightly! V

bent, made his way up into the town.

He was so much ike a hundred other sea.
captains in Salem in general appearance, that
no one took notice of him, and he made his way

about the town undisturbed, halting here and 

there and apparently taking in the conversation
of different groups of men who were discussing
the bold piracies of the Red Dove and the escape
of her captain. ‘

After several hours
which time be visited the iflerent inns and tap-
rooms, he made his way back to where he had

landed and made asignal,’ which soon brought ‘

his boat ashore for him. ,
But, taking the tiller, he headed further up the
harbor and not toward his vessel.

After a row of a mile, he landed in a clump of '

nt in the town, in f,

 

woods on a point, with a hill behind it, and fol- ‘

lowing a path that led inland, while his boat
awaited him. ‘

Before long he came upon a small log cabin, 1
built against the steep bank of a hill, and shel- ,,

tered by pine trees.

It was a lonel , dismal spot, and the habits»

tion was not on culated to inspire one with the
flea that hospitable treatment was t? be found
ere. \
Upon the front of the cabin were tacked in-

numerable birds’ wings and the skins of a fox,“',

wolf, ’possum and coon.

'Over the door on a nest were three stalled“

owls, and suspended from the windows 

stufled snakes.
The door was painted t—black, and in.
camera! it was 9. ha heart, while a cha
‘ , but white, surrounded .4

 

Thednor was closed, and upon a mat in! '
heat!

. 1!; a  dog, which raised his

 

 

 

, ,2! .

 

 

\

‘5

 

Jfl

V  fibOth her own she kissed it, w

 

‘1
‘6’ ’1 .

_:_ hem

tam

»\‘
.‘..

10

Monte, the Mutineer.

 

 

uttered a dismal howl at the sight of the
stranger.

At this the door opened and a woman ap-
peared. I

Her form was slightly bent, and her face
wrinkled, but there were traces about both that
showed she had once been well-formed and hand-
some.

She was dressed in red velvet, with short
skirt, and blouse waist, wore innumerable neck-
laces, and her hair was snow-white.

Her eyes, dark and piercing, seemed to look
into one’s very soul, and she asked in a voice
that was stern and cold:

“ Well, old man, what has brought you to the
home of Wanda the Witch, for surely your days
of love are over, and you care not to have your
future told as the youn do?”

“ I have come, good anda, having heard of
your powers, to seek your aid in behalf of one
in distress.”

“ Then you have gold to pay ?”

“ I ask no favors, for am ready to pay,
and— Good God!”

The sailor had been looking straight into the
face of the woman, and suddenly came 0Ver him
a flash of recognition, and he started back with
the exclamation which seemed to frighten the
woman. .

She sprun backward, and her dog uttered a
savage grow , as though he believed his weird
mistress was in danger.

Then the witch, as she was called, sprung to«
ward the sailor, who seemed deeply moved, and
asked in a hoarse voice:

“ Man, who are you? Speak—who are on?”

'It‘ihe old sailor quickly recovered himsel , and
sai :

“A stranger to you, good woman, though for
a moment I believed I knew you.”

“ You do know me! Who are you I ask, for
your voice has a ring in it that recalls the past
to me—-a past I would remember, and yet for-
get—but no, he was young, and you are an old
man—unless—” '

She sprung upon him so suddenly he could
offer no remstance, and, quick as a. flash, she

‘ tore from his head and face a wig and false

rd.

“ My God! Malcolm, my son! my son i”

The arms of the woman were thrown about
axe man, and she seemed overcome with emo-

on.

He stood erect, and she cried:

“ Malcolm, do you not know me?

" I am your poor. old mother, whom you left
long ago. ’

_“ But I knew you would come back to me;
yes, I knew you would.”

“ You are not my mother, Phoebe Farrar,” he
at last said, in a low tone.

“ What! are on not Malcolm Meredith?”

“ I am Malco m Meredith Mountjoy, and—”

“ Hal why do you call yourself by that name,
the name of a man who was hanged l"

“M father!” he said, bitterly, and then con-
tinue in his low, earnest way:

" In the long ago I had a belief that you were
not my own mother, though certainly you were
ever kind and loving toward me.

“ In your delirium, when I sat by the side of

,. your bed, you told the whole bitter, cruel story,
’ of m

mot er and my father. _

“ did not tell you that I knew,all; but I left
you, for I felt that you had wronged my parent
in making him believe that I was dead, and it
was a cruel wron to me, too.

“ I sent you go d from a foreign land, but the
one I bade ive it to you returned it to me, sa -
ing you he left your home at the Highlan
and one no one knew whither.

“ have cruised about the world, meeting

' with varied fortunes, and am now here on an

important mission, and Isought the aid of
Wanda the Witch, and Iflndin her the one
who was my adopted mother, my Childhood’s
.nursa( Phoebe Farrar.

“‘.Need I say more to convince you that I
know well that no drop of your blood flows in
m veins?

‘ I need not tell you either that I remember
you with aifection for your kindness to me in
the past, and forgive you all the wrong you did
my father and me, and you shall never know
want as long as I have a dollar.

“Come now, good Mother. Phoebe, letus be

r  friends. and forgetting the past, look to the
‘ “future.” '

' He held out his hand to her and ping it in
the s c said:

‘ “ You are to forgiveme all, Malcolm;

I hut-I had no 0 ild and I loved you so.

' “ Come, overlook the hideous bag I have be-
oorne,'the dreaded witch, and enter my humble

e. , ,
Without a word he followed her into the

-. - {cabin and the door closed behind them.

0

‘ a" : 4’

,5.

CHAPTER XVII.

 - A A DOUBLE.
H Malcolm Meredith had taken aseat
‘ Wanda had placed for him, shedrew a
chair near. andsaid:
a “Do not condemn me forhein what Iain
hfito live; .I needed gold, a witchcraft
all. I want.” ,

 

 

“ I condemn nothing, Mother Farrar—”

“ (.‘all me \Vanda, for 1 am so known, and
you care not to call me mother, while of course
you would not wish to be believed to be the child
of Wanda the Witch.”

“ I am believed to be even worse, far worse,
for I am called a pirate.”

“ You are one, are you not!”

“ Ah no not I.”

“Yet who is Malcolm Meredith the whalers’
Nemesis?"

“ Not I.”

“ I did not see you when you came in as a mer-
chant captain and saved the life of that lovely
girl, Ethel Monte.

“ That afternoon she had been in the town,
running there in her little skifl‘, and comin
u u some boys who were deriding the ol

itch Wanda, led me to the shore, and brought
me home in the very face of the storm which
broke on her ere she reached her home.

“ Fortunately you were near and saved her.

“I started when I heard that Malcolm Mere-
dith hadsaved her from death, and I was glad
when she told me you were to come back and
make her your wife.

“ You sailed away, and then came the stories
of your piracies—”

“ Not mine.” "

“ Well some one with your name, and those
of the Whalers who saw you, or the one who
calls himself Malcolm Meredith, said he was the
same who had been the one to save Ethel Monte,
her lover.”

“ The were mistaken.”

“ We 1, adversity came upon the maiden and
her family, and her mother is dead, her
brother now in prison, and she has also the sor-
row of believi you her lover a pirate.”

“ I had a brot er, did I not, Wanda?”

The woman started at thiS.

“ Yes, a twin brother."

“ And his name?” ,

“ Was Mark.” i

“ Are you sure?”

" No, for I did not know either of (you apart
but believed you were Malcolm, an so called

on.

“ But there might have been a mistake?”

“Yes, he might have been Malcolm Meredith
Mountjoy and you Mark.”

“ And where is he?”

Lt Dead.”

“ You are sure?”

(I Yes.”

“ What proof have you?”

“ He was adopted by a friend of your father,
an army officer by the name of Major Herbert
Deering—now General Deering—and some of
your father’s foes kidnapped him and took him
to sea; but, the vessel was lost, I heard, and a
man with a little boy in his arms was dashed
on the coast and buried there.”

“ And you have heard nothing of my brother
since?”

“ Not a word.”

“ Then who is this Malcolm Meredith, the Buc-
cancer?”

“ You say it is not you?”

H I do.”

“ Strange.” .
I “It is strange: but it is an accident of names

su .
“ ut the resemblance to you.” ..

“ Ahi then it must be in twin brother.”

“ If you are not the wha ers’ Nemesis, then it
is your twin brother who is, and he escaped
death.” 0

“ Yes, and I am then Mark Meredith.”

“ That does not follow, for the mistake of a
name may have been made in this case too.”

“True; but they say-his vessel is like mine

so.
h “Ynes, the counterpart of the brig you had
ere.

“ And mine is the Sea Dove.”

“ He calls his the Red Dove, and from all ac-
counts I guess the name is deserved, for her acts
are red ones.”

“Well, I must find this Malcolm Meredith,
whoever he is and wherever he may be.”

“ Yes, but beware that you are not mistaken
for him, seized and banged.”

“ True; but I had my warnin of this, so
came in the disguise that on tore rom me.”

“ Resume it before you save this cabin.”

“ I will.”

“And your vessel?”

“ Is also disguised and in port.”

“ Why did you come here?”

“ To claim my bride for I have been long
ks t away by an unkind destiny.”

i 'Vtg’l'l she marry you, believing you to be a
p ra
“ I think not, I know not if she so believed
me; but era 1 ask her td be mywflalsha
prove that I am no pirate.

“ A sailor of fortune, I am, you, and I do not
mind telling you, Wanda, that I have made gold
as a slaver. runnin slaves from the coast of
Africa to Cuba an Brazil; but I am not a pi-
"$91,"

     

  

 

and after some further conversation together
the “'itch said:

“ ” have already arranged a plan for his res-
one.

“Well, let me tell you my plan first, and if
that fails it will be well enough to rescue him.

“There Is on my vessel a poor fellow Whom
we picked up from a wreck, and whose sulfur-
ings and sorrows have turned his brain.

“ He has told me his story once and over
again, and I have always believed it to be the
wandering chatter of a diseased mind.

" But to—night I learned from Ethel Monte
that the veSSel in which her brother sailed as
second mute, was the brig, Dart, owned by Ezra
Vail and Company, and that she was lost on the
African Coast.

“Also that her first mate was an Arab by
the name of Selim, and her captain was a Cap-
ltain John Hudson, and all were believed to be
0st. '

“Now this r fellow I speak of says his
name is John udson. that he commanded the
prig Dart, and was wrecked, and all but himself
ost.

“ I have heard him speak of Salem, and of
Vail and Compan , so the man is the one to cast
into the teeth of onte’s accusers the lie they
have trum d 11 against him.

“I shall ave im at the trial, and I will be
there m self in disguise, and the persecution of
Mark onte must stop.”

“ 1 am glad to hear this, my son—I mean
Malcolm—

“ Nay, good Wanda, don’t fear to speak of me
as one dear to you, if I still am, for I have
forgiven the past, you know.”

“ God bless you for it, and when you have
saved Monte and marry Ethel, you will be
happy, I hope— But I forget.”

“ orget what?”

“ You must first prove you are not Malcolm
Meredith, the whalers’ Nemesis, or you will never
dare show ourself in Salem.”

“ True. must do this, and to do so, my bro-
ther must be roven a pirate.”

“ You still lieve it is your twin brother!”

“ It must be, from all you tell me; but now I
must be ofl’, and speak to no one of my coming
to you.”

“And you will come back again?” wistfully
said the woman, for he was as dear to her as
thou h he were really her own son.

‘l‘d fps, and I’ll never forget you; but you need
go

“ No, no; I have (plenty.”

““gut you shoul not, then, lead this weird
1 e.

“Yes. it is better so—better so. I must re-
main ‘ Wanda, the Witch,’ ” was the reply, and
soon after, Malcolm Monte resumin his dis-
guise, left the cabin, and the disgui brig at
nightfall sailed out of the harbor of Salem.

CHAPTER XVIII.
EZRA VAIL HAS A GAME TO PLAY.

WHEN the trial of Mark Monte came off Ezra
Vail, his son Rupert and their lawyers were as-
tounded to see appear at the last none other
than the captain of the brig Dart, which they
were trying to prove the young sailor had
wrecked purposely to rob.

His mind ad come back to him in all its for—

 

‘ mer vigor, and thou h a mere physical wreck of

his former self, for e had become an old man,
he was yet known as John Hudson, of the brig
Dart, and the story he told made Mark Monte a
hero, for the young man had done all in his
power to save t e vessel and her crew.

Thwarted u u the threshold of the successful
termination 0 their plot, Ezra Vail and Rupert
were anxious to do all in their power to make
amends. .

Who the secret worker in Mark Monte's be
half was no one knew the h the reader can
understand that it was Malco m Meredith, who
did not himself dare to openly appear in the
matter.

He had gone to the loan-agent, With whom
Mark Monte had left the gem-studded miniature
and redeemed it, and had sent it to Ethel, whom
he had not a ain visited, wishing first to remove
the sti ma 0 piracy from his name: but Mark
and Et e1 both knew who their friend was in all
to}: had happened. i t

ere was one s range c rcums ance however
which neither Wanda, Mark or Ethel could un:
derstand.

That was, that while Malcolm Meredith had
been in Salem in di uise there had been’noth-
infi heard of the Red ove‘s lawless acts.

at as soon as he disap red, after Mark’s
escape from the gallows, t incomin vessels
reported having been overhauled and o d taken
from each captain to ransom his era from de-

on.

As for old John Hudson, he had returned 11-
$1?r&bgt  1:Jvas a sum gltlle hill:i by Ezra

a as t sth prom pai.

Than. . told b eboth Margan Ethel to
make 0 Cottage is home, for t 6 young
sailorsa ;,-’

“ Remember, ca
and yet I must as

   

in. I 'owe my life to you
you to do me another great

service,'and that is to be as a father to my sis-_ . _

tor, for I am oflered a berth as captain Soft

    

 

.1-"

41-‘

u
v
y
o
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)

 

 

Mr...

ha, . _.

;:f*.....- -a _. a-

 ._g.
.. m .. ..
«my _

  

Mente, the Mutineer.

 

11

 

 

 

ood schooner, so must takeit and go to sea, and
Ethel will have no protector.”

The old man was glad to find such a. home, es-
pecially when urged b Ethel and thus matters
stood one night when upert Vail walked rapid-
ly home through a driving storm and handed
his father, who was taking his ease in the
library, a package of importance that had just
arrived by special messenger, as the ofiice was
being closed.

Captain Vail took the sealed package and
broke it open.

Then he said:

“ Let us have supper now, Rupert, and then I
have something to tell you, so I will not read
this now.”

“ The messenger said that it was most im-

rtant.”

“ So it is, but he must await my pleasure.”

They went into the supper-room, and after
the meal was over returned to the library, and
in dressing-gowns and slippers made themselves
comfortable before the log fire.

“ You can close the house, Burton, and go to
your quarters, for we will not need you again
to-night, after you have placed the handy de-
canter and cigars at hand.”

The butler obeyed, and when they Were alone
Capgin Vail said:

‘ on know, Rupert, that the aim of my life
is to be the richest of men?”

“ Yes, father.”

“ To leave you an inheritance that will dwarf
all others.”

“ So you have often said.”

“ Now all money-making is but gambling in
one sense, for we speculate, risk and do all with
the chance of gain.

“ In business there are many men who are
but pirates upon their fellows, and some grow
rich at the sacrifice of others.”

“ Is this a sermon, father?”

“ No, but it leads up to what I intend to tell

“ I am all intent, for it is not often I hear you
philosophize.”

“ The package brought me to-ni ht came
from Justin Laws, in old confidentia clerk.

“ Now Justin is a euced rascal, I know; but
he serves me well, for he is ambitious and in
looking to, my interests serves his own.”

“ I did not care to be known in a certain
transaction, and so I sent Justin Laws as a stool
pigeon.

“ He has, I see, made a full report of two
matters he had in hand.

“First, he has found out that the estate of
Peter Rutledge, murdered, and left by the
murderess to her children, very nearly approach-
es a million dollars now, and this about equals
the estate of General Deering, who was the heir
of his uncle, General Nevitte, and his aunt, Miss
Kittredge, both of whom died unmarried, while
he also was left a fortune by his parents.

“ Now I have very nearly as much, and with
you the owner of the Rutledge riches, through
your marriage with Ethel Monte, on will
double the wealth of any man in New
do you see?”

“I will see when I get it; but Ethel is not my
wife yet.”

“ That is the second case I am coming to, for
she will be.”

“ Don‘t be too sure.”

“ With her brother in your power she will
come to terms.”

“ Yes, but he is as slippery as an eel—we can
nev held him, father.’

“ ow let us see what Justin says.”

“ You have then been plotting without letting
me into the secret?”

“ Yes, for I wished to have the reins well in
band before I acted.”

“ I see.”

“ Now, my son,” and the old man glared about
him as though fearful of an eavesdropper,
tho h he knew no one was near; but it was the
old read of a guilty conscience that makes
cowards of us all. I

“ There is no one near, sir. '

“ Yes, but see if the servants have retired.”

Rupert rose lazily and made the Circuit of the
halls and adjoining rooms.

“All (inlet, father, so out with your secret.”

“ Wei , you know that the Sea Rovers win
vastr'fortunes by their piracies upon the high
seas

“ So the are said to.”

“ Now lthat is wanted isa fieet craft, well
armed, manned by a crew of desperate men, and
under the command of a man.who has no fear
of Heaven or Hades.”

“ Like Malcolm Meredith, this Nemesis of the
whalers, for instance.” _

“ Yes, for from my ships alone he has gotten
some thirty thousand dollars, and he has robbed
man another craft.” '

“ Vell, father, what then?”

“ I have the very man for a pirate.”

“ You?”

“ I know somethin _of his life. and he is now
in jail in Boston awa ting death on the gallows
for his lawless work.

“ comes of a good family in Boston, but
wont tothe bad, ran away to sea,andreturn-

 

s 4
r

ngland, '

 

 

 

ing home believing he was forgotten, was re—
cognized, arrested, tried and sentenced to be
han ed.

“ e is as brave as a lion, a splendid sailor
and the very man for my work.”

“ Your work, father?”

“Yes.”

“ I am at sea as re ards your meaning."

The old man smil and replied in a low tone:

“ I have bought a vessel, fitted her out as a
cruiser, nominally to hunt down this Malcolm
Meredith, but in reality to turn her into a

irate for our benefit,” and at the words of

is father Rupert Vail sprung to his feet with
an oath upon his lim.

CHAPTER XIX.
THE GAME.

THE oath which Rupert Vail uttered was not
one of indignant anger at his father’s bold and
evil game to be played, but brought to his lips
by his intense surprise and real delight.

“ Old man, you are worth a dozen of your

son.

“ You have a great head, and I follow your
lead every time.”

" I thought that vou would, Rupert,” return-
ed the old man, really delighted at the praise his
son bestowed upon him. -

“ Now let me hear more sir.”

“ All ri ht, I’ll read Laws’s letter, for it is ex-
plicit I ju ge.”

H  so.”

I The merchant Whaler then read aloud as fol-
ows:

‘ Es'rsnnan Sm:—

" I flatter m self that I have a ood report to
make to you 0 what I have accomp shed.

“I found on my arrival in Boston, that the town
was giving you just praise for purchasing and fitting
out at your own expense, a cruiser to go after the
noted pirate Meredith.

“ Your papers arrived from the Government, and
a commission in blank for you to fill up with the
game of the officer you are to place in command of

er.

“The schooner is now in perfect repair, not a rope
or a sail wanting, and I paid the bill of the builders
to-da by draft on you.

“T e uns arrived and were put on board, with
the sma l-arms. and she is being provisioned for a
six months’ cruise.

“I have a good man getting you a crew, and he
knoivs just what kind of men you wish for the
wor .

" Now to our captain:

“ I went, n the (1; se of a priest, to visit him in
his cell, told him had terms to offer him. and
placed before him the paper containing your pro -
sition to aid him to escape, place him in comman of
the vessel and in return he was to serve you as you
desired, g ving you one-half of all gains, and paying
himself, crew and expenses arising out of the other

half.
“You asked me to write you my opinion of the

man.

“ He is about twenty-eight, with a face that is re-
fined and strange] handsome and winn for that
of a man who has en the Satan that he as.

“ He is a tall, powerful fellow and would die with
a smile on his face if die he had to, but refers to
live and would take desperate chances to oso.

“He acce ted your terms. and said he would hold
himself rea y to depart at a moment‘s notice.

“ I then se about finding a man who looked like

m.

“ It was no easy job, for he is a picture of manly
beauty, and one he resembles to a striking degree.
is not the one to ask to represent him, as you may
know when I tell you that it is Mark Monte.

“ At last, however, I found a person who, with a
slight dressing up would pass muster for him.

, I discovered the fellow to be a sailor, an adven-
turer, dead broke and a stranger here.

“I found he was ready for work of any kind, so
we looked u the law on the punishment he would
receive for a lowing the prisoner to escape while he
remained in his stead.

“ He discovered that it would be a year in prison
at the least with chances of more, so he said:

“ ‘ I am a ittle run down in health from overliving
and the rest and jail fare would do me good an

build me ug.
“ ‘ Then am on and can aflord to ve a
couple of years 0 my e, when I know I get a

In sum when I come out of rison.‘

" closed the bar in with h at five thousand,
to be deposited in h name in bank to draw interest
from date, and told him to study up the Latin
prayiars and manners of a priest.

“ e at once repeated several to me, and said he
was up in all pm, from Catholic to Mahomedan.

‘° It now rema us or me, when I go to the Jail,
after hearing frontinyou, to take this man with me
and introduce hi as a priest who will visit the
prisoner in my absence.

“ He can so himself as not to look like
the risoner, while. when he remains in the cell, the
con emned man can come out and neverbesus-

“ I will meet him outside and carry him on board
the schooner, which can at once sail. so you had
best send on the one you intend shall be captain
until the craft gets out to sea for the letter I wrote
him from here, offering him t e berth on a vessel as
skipper, he replied to, accepting it.

‘ I will have some one meet him and take him on
basil-d, anal this; $11 will be well. d l
“ sen t y special memenger an a etter
herewith ordering h{our man to re rt for duty, so
youcansenditw in bythe one w obearsthls.

“The night after his arrival, the real commander
shall escape from jail. -'

 

   

      
   

    
 
 
  

 
 
 
 
  

 

  
   
  
 
 
   
  
 
 
   
    
    
   
  
   
  
     
    
  
   
 
  
     
 
   
  
   
   
  
  
   
   
   
    
   
   
   
 
   
  
 
 
 
  
   
    
   
   
    
    
  
   
   
         
           
    

“ I hope I have done to please you, for that is my
first object, my own interests the Second.

" Let me know by messenger just when to expect
your captain.

“ The letter is unsealed, so you can read it. and it
tells him where to report.

"I have the honor to be. sir,

“ Your ob't serv‘t.
“JUan Laws.”

“Well, my son, what do you think of my
game?” said Captain Vail, with an air of tri-
umph, when he had finished reading the long
letter of his secret agent.

“It is wonderful, sir, wonderful; but who is
this man he speaks of as your nominal captain
of the schooner?”

In response the old Whaler handed to him the _
letter which Justin Laws had inclosed. '” '

“Ah! I see! you are as deep asthesea,my '
dear father.

“ But see if I understand all correctly.”

“ Well?”

“ You have bought this schooner—”

' “ Yes, the slave schooner Blackbird, cap— .
tured a short while ago by an American
emf?” h i d 1 "

“ ! s e s sai to marve ous s .

“She does, and woum have been mu
but for a shot that carried away her mainmast.

“ I bought her, imprOVed her to my liking,
and she is ready for sea."

“ You get the credit of fitting her out as a
pirate-hunter?”

H I do.” .

“ And then it is to be supposed lawless men
out her out before you got your captain and
crew on board. and you lose your vessel?”

“ That is it.”

“And yet she is to go under a captain of your
own selection, this jail-bird, and turn pirate,
and {all} ’get half the money she earns?“

o.

“ Can you trust him i"

“ I must: and after saving him from the gal-
lows, and giving him a fair chance, he will
hardly fail me.” '

“ I hope not, and should think not: but there
is another in the case.”

“ I see it all now, father, and I offer you my
warmest congratulations.

“ You are a great man,” and Rupert Vail
grasped his father’s hand warmly, and then the
two drank to the success of the Blackbird un-
der her convict captain.

 

CHAPTER XX.
rm: convrcr car-ram.

IN a cell in the Boston prison, strongly
guarded without, and with iron manacles n
his left ankle, clankin at every move to con-
stantly remind him 0 their galling presence,
sat a man, gazing out of the grated window
upon the scene spread out before him.

He was a man of striking fresence, erect as a
soldier when he stood up an cast his eyes over
the varied view that met his vision, and in his
face there was a look that certainly belied him
as a criminal, so tender it was.

To have been in an assemblage of a thousand
men, where a reader of human nature was to
pick out a murderer and villain, Burt Brentford,
the man in the 00 would have been the very
last one who would ave been selected.

And yet he was a man who had lived a wild
life, forged his father’s name to get money to
carry on his dissipation and gambling, and
when discovered, and an ofllcer came to his
luxurious rooms to arrest him, had shot him
down in his tracks and made his escape, taking
possesion of a friend’s yacht to depart in from
the harbor. .

For years he had not been heard of, and then
he returnal, grown from the landless, slender ,

oath of twenty-one into the bearded, splendid- » ‘
y formed man of twenty-eight. v

Hehadtrustod to the years thathadpassed *
ancli)e the change inmléis meldzppealrance rig: ' ,
to , ve ring y
his fatewgnuedtherhwse to ask money of him. gone

Judge Brentford was a stern old Roman, with
the highest sense of honor and justibe, and he
had at once had his son arrested and given over
to the law. -

His trial followed, for the murder of the con-
stable, and it was his father who had passed the
death sentence upon him. ~

Such was Burt Brentford, who sat in his cell
ging with a look of strict out - .

bay, and with but two- weeh_
him from his appalling doom. v ‘ I .7 .,
ho"I‘hsot  of BozgonEwith itzhoisland‘ ‘ hm. "»

y retc ng away t e sea, green
on either shore, and the busy town near at hand
met his view and seemed to charm the 
with its beauty, for he was so up init, that

hefailedtoheartheo n of door unfit-2,,

moth! an nnmistakablgu‘ accent conic fin 

w s: «
father, son, igafther being widnse;

“The
to yoryeasinfulsowl. a 
twasthekeeper of that tier of 

wasamanin  a,

withhim
t“L'Well. Pat,I’ll leav
or I’ve seen too muehofzm:

‘ ii
an

    
       
     
    
  
 
      
     
  
   
  
     
     
 
 
 
 

     

   

     

    

   
  
   
  
   
    
  
   
   
 
 
 
 
  
 

  

‘i..“,

may
fathsrto youresg out of
you «if? ,

  

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‘i 7‘ “.5

12

P". .
.'.,-,.,y.

-—- :r- -. x. - - .-v—m..-».  ""n—I’,"
'  .' 1., ,A- '1- ’ H ‘

Monte, the Mutineer.

 

 

here to care to meet you there,” was the reckless I

reply, and the Irish keeper crossed himself
Blously, with a look of horror on his face, while
6 muttered:

“ Howly Moses, do yez moind him?”

The priest, a man whOSe work was sanctified to
a degree, entered the cell, and was left alone
with the risoner.

“ Well, ’ said the prisoner, as the visitor came
over to the window.

“That’s just what it is, for all is well," was
the reply, in the same low tone, and then, as
the steps of the keeper were heard retreating
alon the corridor, he continued:

“ call with my assistant to-night, reporting
at the office as I go out, that I am Called away
from town.”

“ And then?”

“ He comes to-morrow night alone, and will
take your lace here.”

“ All ri t; and I walk out?"

“ You 0.”

“ Do we look enough alike for the cheat not to
be recognized?”

“ You do.”

“That Irish guard will kill him when he
discovers the cheat," and Burt Brentford
hugged as though really amused.

“ hat is his lookout.”

“Yes, he must take the chances; but I am
to walk out of the jail, and then?”

“ Go down to the East Indian wharf and
I’ll be there with a boat.”

“ To carry me aboard ship?”

I‘ Yes.”

“ And I am to take command?”

“ You are to be second in command.”

“ I thought I was to be captain.”

“ You are, after you get out to sea.”
H  l”

" I will hand you a letter of instructions
which you are to open and read. and then act.”

“ I understand; but the crew?”

“ Are aware that there will be a change; but

on are to manage them.”

“ I will do it, for I am master or nothing.

“ But then?”

“ You are to go on your cruise.”

“ Under any particqu flag?”

, “One of your own selection, so that you do
not choose one of some nation.”

“ I understand; and then?”

“Your letter of instrUctions will tell you
everything: but I have your pledge to carry
them out

“ To the letter.”

“ Rfmember, you are saved from the gel-

owe.

“ I shall not forget it, sir. ”

“ You are pl in command of a fine, fleet
vessel fully armed and manned.”

’ “ e3 I appreciate it.”

“ An are thus given the chance to make
your living, and in return are to share equally
with the one for whom I act.”

“ Yourself.” 1

“I did not say so."

“ A man is not doing what you have for an-

. other—men are not so unselfish

“ Granted that I serve myself, you need not
. care who I serve, so you are set free and bene-
dted.”

“ I do not.”

“The letter of instructions will ive you the
address of one who will take your ty to dis-
pose of, so you will have only to send a messen-
ger to him, and he will appoint a rendezvous

_ where to meet you.”
- “ I understand; but to this man who remains

‘ . inimfieplace?”

accepts the result.”
“ For so much gold?”
H Ya.” ‘
" Well he knows best, but as he serves him-
self he deserves no thanks from me; but how
am I to communicate with you, when I wish

. to?”

“ There is no need of doing so; but,
.casion arise, a letter addressed to The Un-
known,’ left with the agent who di of
gear booty will reach me, and should desire

raspon , I will leave a letter with him for
y

on. r

“ Not under my name, you know, for I sink
that for in father’s and sister’s sake. '

“ It won d not look well to have a judge on

should cc-

7 ; the bench have his name made famous because
i I he was so unfortunate as to have a irate son,”

- a and the man spoke with a bitterness t t chan ed

 hissadfacetoalook that was startling to he

‘ pretended priest.

“ You are right. But what name will you
take?”

- ,, “Let me see: How will Beelzebub,the Buc-

,.  cancer do?”

“I on't doubt but that it will be a very
suggest

‘  appropriate name for you; but may I
r “I!

  

9‘ es, certain] .”
cuts, The arauder I”

l. I’ll adopt it, so address

  
 

meassuch;
, .

“ keep the name.
“New. lsfyug'e ask  to do me a favor.”

 

\

“ I will write a letter to give to you to—night,
when you come with that fool who sells his free
dom for gold.

“ When I have sailed, see that my letter reach-
es the hands of the one to whom it is addressed—
my sister.”

“ I will do so.”

“Thank you,” and the prisoner turned to the
window as though he wished to be alone, and
taking the hint, the pretended priest departed.

 

CHAPTER XXI.
ANOTHER VENTURE.

IT was a pleasant scene to look in upon, there
in the cozy sitting-room of Cliff Cottage. for
there sat an old sailor with white hair—John
Hudson—who had appeared at such an oppor-
tune moment to prove that Mark Monte, the
young mate of the brig Dart, had not wrecked
her, or been a mutineer, as he had been charged
with being by Vail & Co.

And Mark Monte was there, too, a handsome
fellow, with a fearle face, with the form of an
Adonis and athlete combined.

He was seated near his beautiful sister, Ethel,
whose happiness at her brother’s escape from
an ignominious death, would have had no alloy,
had her lover, Malcolm Meredith, then been
from under the ban cast upon him.

“ You are determined then, Mark, to make
me live here at Cliff Cottage?” said the old cap-
tain, with the look of one who felt pleasure in
the thought.

“ Yes, indeed, sir, for you are our adopted
father now, and must be Ethel’s protector when
I am away.

“ You ave been a sailor for fifty years. and
have passed your three-score years of life, so
rest in your old a e here. as on have no chil-
dren or near kind ties to cal you elsewhere.

“ I owe you my life, and you have an income
for your ordinary wants, or I should insist upon
sharing my pay equallyI with on.”

“ You urge so well, ark, must ield.”

“ It is we 1 you surrender, Uncle udson, for
so I shall call you now, before I opened fire upon

on and forced {you to yield, for this is your
ome, remember, said Ethel.

“ I haul down in flag then, and say no more;
but it is because I ove you both so well, and not
that I feel you are servin me.

“ I loved you as a son ark, when on were
my second mate on the Cart, and I he an idea
that the Arab first mate Vail’s pet, was not
friendly to you; but I could not see why, and so
said nothing.

“ I believe he wrecked the brig for some mo-
tive of his own; but on must not say that you
owe film life to me, or it is to that splendid fel-
low, eredith, as he had saved me from death,
and heard my ravin and knew who I was, so
put it to good use w on he discovered on were
to be hanged for the destruction of the rig.

“ He came on board his vessel and had a long
talk ‘with me. leads-11:;i my clouded mind back to
all that had happe , and it flashed upon me
like sunlight that l was once more myself.

“glow, to him you owe your gratitude, not to

“ And you say he is not the lawless rover heis
accused of being?” said Mark. _

“No indeed. I know he is not' but candidly,
while Iwas on board his vessel I was childis ,
half-demented from all my suflerings. and could
swear to nothing that then happened.

“ It seemed like a dream to me, from the day
he took me half-dead from the wreck; but he is
no pirate, I am sure—he could not be.”

‘ I am so glad to hear you say so much, Hud-
son,” said Ethel, earnestly.

“ I have been too falsely accused myself, not
to feel that he can also be wronged, so give him
the benefit of the doubt; but is a most re-
markable thing that there could be two men of
the same name, two vessels alike, both capable
of disguising themselves from brig to schooner
and that his movements can only be accoun
for by his own word.

“ It is stra e, but for his sake, for my sis-
ter’s, I will be ieve him to be wron ed until
guilt is proven upon him,” and Mar Monte
spoke with real feeling.

"‘ Thank you, brother, and I too will not doubt

him. ,

“ But where is he?” asked Captain Hudson.

“ That question no one can answer, and I
would be so glad to know, that Imight seek him
ere I departed on my cruise.”

“ An when must you go, Mark?” asked
Ethel, with some anxiety, for she dreaded, after
all that had happened in the past to see her bro-
ther go, though she felt she had a protector in
Captain Hudson.

‘ I was told that I need not come on until the
vowel was ready to sail, as my officers will look
to all matters for me, and the vemel will be in
perfect trim.”
to; Aiiddyou go to the West Indies?” asked Cap-

n u son.

“ l think~so; but here is my letter,” and tak-
in from his pocket a letter he read aloud as
to owe: .- . .
“0mm max Moms:—

“M! Dun gum—After offering my congratula-

 

  
   

. tionsu you-elseeppfrom the death that stared
youln  face.  beg to say that as an old friend

   
    

   

{' J i" y:

 

   
    

of your late father, lam anxious to extend you a.
hgeging band now, as I believe, in your time of
n

“ I also know that in doing so. I serve myself, as
you are the very man to command a vessel 1 am

tting out for avoyane to the Southern Seas. and
which goes on a special mission. as the Government
has gllven me authority to arm and man her thor-
ough y.

“ Yourinstructions will be given you upon your
arrival in Boston, but you need not come on until
you again hear from me, for I shall have all in readi-
ness or you.

“ Trusting that our troubles are over, I am

“ our obedient servant,
" Form BURTON."

“ It is a kind letter, Mark, and I too hope our
troubles are at an end; but do you remember
ever to have heard of him?"

“ No, I do not: but he is doubtless some large
merchant of BOston; but it is time for the coach
tobe in, and I’ll go up to the town and see if
there are any letters," and Mark Monte left the
cottage, but u ithin the hour was back again,

“ I have a letter in the same handwriting
Ethel, so we Will know when I have to dopfll‘t,"
he said, and breaking the Seal he read aloud to
his sister and old Captain HudSon a second let-
ter from his kind correspondent, Ford Burton.

1!: told him to Come upon the second day, as
the vessel was to sail on Friday. and that his
employer would meet him at the Commonwealth
Inn, where he was to go and await him.

“ Oh, Mark, I do so dread to see you go,” said
Ethel, with tears in her beautiful eyes.

“ You are nervous, my sister, after all you
have passed through; but Uncle Hudson Will be
here to protect you, and the faithful old ser—
vants in the kitchen are devoted to you, so there
will be no more to fear.-

“ I’ll arrange to have my pay sent you each
month, for my wants will be few and a small
sum will do me, so you can lay up a snug little
sum by my return.”

“ And su pose Captain Meredith should come?”
asked Ethe , anxiously.

“ Tell him for your sake, to prove that he is
not the man he is accused of being, and when he
does so all will be well.”

The next da Mark Monte made his prepara-
tions for his eparture to Boston, and the out-

ing stage carried him away from his little
figme and all he held dear to again dare the den-
gers of the deep.

But in his brave heart there was no dread of
coming evil.

 

CHAPTER XXIL
AN UNLOCKED-FOB. VISITOR.

MEN who a fellow-being condemned to
die, are not sued in heart as many believe
them to be.

Their duty calls them to obey the law, and
they must obey the call.

Then there is a certain pride in doing their
duty, for upon them rests the responsibility of
the safety of a prisoner.

But outside of their duty most keepers of con-
victs and men under sentence of death, are kind
indeed to the unfortunate ones under their
charge.

So it was with those who held watch and
ward over the young aristocrat, Burt Brentford,
whose crimes had brought him under the shadow
of the gallows. .

His keepers forgot his sins under the fate that
was before him, and they spoke to him in a.
kindly way and did all in their power to make
his last days on earth comfortable at least.

He was ever courtly in his manner toward
them, he sun a good song and entertained the
night-watch ( uring the long hours of the night
and then his indomitable )luck in the face 0
an ignominious death won t eir admiration.

At first he had scoffed at the idea of his allow-
in a clergyman to visit him, and had sternl
re used to receive the pastor of his fathe a
church who had been his spiritual adviser
through his boyhood. '

But one day he had relented, at Pat’s earnest
entreaties and had admitted a priest.

Pat the keeper had spoken offthls priest as a.
missionary, and whose only obJect was to do

ood to his fellow-men, and he said that he had
been most kind to him. and even had visited
him at his humble home. .

So the priest was admitted to the cell, and
there is no u to say that it was a man sail-
ing under files colors, who had borrowed the.
plumage of t 9 church to serve the devil in.

If Burt Brentford was anxious regarding the

lot that had been formed for his escape, his face

d not show it, as he sat in his cell.

His countenance was as placid as though he
was at peace with the world. and his fellow.

man.
He knew that his days were numbered, and
at he intended to meet his fearful fate, if meet
t he must, without a tremor 01' his wonderful
nerves.

An hour after the departure of the pretended

priest, Pat ushered into his cell unannounced a
emale form. .

He thought if he told the prisoner that a lag]!
wished to see him, she would refused -
mission, and as she slipped into his hand a gold-.
piece, he took the chances of offending the pris—

i >,‘L«
I..:  v

   
   

 

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'Monte, the Mutineer.

 

W r. .-. -.  -_’ “a”... K

13

 

 

oner, and so said, as he threw open the cell
door:

“ A lady to say you, Mistur Brentford."

The door banged to and the visitor was with-
in the cell.

Burt Brentford turned quickly, an an y
flash in his eyes; but he saw a form cloth in
dee black and a vailed face.

LI; bOWed and asked coldly:

“ May 1 ask if there is not some mistake,
madam, for I am receiving no visitors!”

She made no reply, but stood before him, her
whole form aquiver.

“ I am Burt Brentford, murderer, and under
sentence of death.

“ May I ask if it is I whom you wish to see,
madam?”

“ Burti I am Beatrice.”

The words were spoken in a low tone, but he
started, for he heard and understood.

He stepped quickly toward her, but the clank-
ing iron checked him, and he uttered a deep
oath, while reaching forward be dragged from
the face ihe vail that concealed it.

“ Yes, you are Beatrice! but in Heaven's
name, why came you here?”

“ As your wife, it was my duty to come.”

He laughed bitterly, but said:

“ I know not how you found me out, but it is
useless to deny now that I am not the one you
think, for I am Burton Brentford, and the
name you knew me under, that of Burt Brenton,
was a false one.”

“It is the name you married me under, Burt,
years ago.”

The face of the woman was sad, yet lovely,
and her beautiful eyes were filled with tears,
while her lips quivered.

The man frowned and hit his lips: but said:

“ I did deceive you, Beatrice: but I loved
you, and you were but a poor girl, and my
proud father would never have acknowledged
you.

“ He would have cast me off forever.

“ So I married you, pretending to be Burt
Brenton, and a sailor.

“ I did expect to one day come back for you,
when I told you I was going on a long voyage
to China; but I lost heavily at cards, on my
return to Boston, and forged my father's name
to help me out of debt.

“ It was discovered, and I shot the constable
who came to arrest me; but I was mad with
drink, and knew not what I did until the deed
was «lone.

“ Then, in horror at my act, I tied, and went
from bad to worse.

“I returned home, hoping my father/would
give me money to buy a ship and become an
honest skipper.

“ Instead, he had me arrested and here I am.

“ Now you know me as I am, trice.”

“Yes, Burt, and I love you still."

“ Even though under sentence of death on the
gallows?”

“ Oh, yes, I love you more because you are in
sorrow and danger.”

“ You are a noble little woman, Beatrice; but
let me tell you that you will gain nothing from
my death, for I am dishonored, disowned, and
cast off by my father.” .

“ Burt, do you believe that I could have such
a thought—of gain throu h your death?

“ The world does not w me as your wife,
but for the sake of one other I sought you-J’

“ And how did you find me, may I ask?”

“ I heard nothing of you, so came to Boston
to seek you.

“ I found that you had not sailed upon the ves-
sel you said you would go to China on, and for
the first time I doubted you.

“ Last summer your father and sister came to
the little in kept by my father u in the mono-
tains, and it seemed to me that Iliad seen them
both before.

“ Your sister and I became fast friends, .1-
though she is seven years younger, and we were
w0n‘ to walk and drive r.

“ One day she mid me of er brother and how
he had sinned, but said she wouldever ove him,
for she believed our heart was not had.

“She had a miniature of you, and showed it
to me.

“ ortunately her father called her, or I would
have betrayed all, for I recognized you at once;
but I did not betray you to her.

“ I then looked over a sealed package you had
left, as b accident, and it contained letters and
papers 0 importance hearing your name.

“Then I knew who it was that had married
me; but I let all others believe you been
lost at sea, as I had told them in in return
from Boston when I discove you had not
gone to China.

“ A few days ago I saw in apaper your name,
and what your awful fate was to be,

“ 1 came at once to try and will! you, for I
inherited a small fortune from an aunt, Burt,
so am not poor. -

“ But I could do nothing though I offered
large sums to bribe your keepers.

‘ Then I determined to See you, Burt, and m
remain by you to the bitter end.”

“ You are a brave, noble woman, Beatrice,
and may Heaven bless you: but who was that

 w you spoke of just now?”

 

“ Burt, it was your son—our child.”

“ Great God i” and the iron nerve of the strong
man was shaken, and sinking upon his cot be
buried his face in his hands while his whole
form shook with emotion.

 

CHAPTER XXIII.
ran: coxvrc'r’s PLEDGE.

IT was some moments before the man, strong
as he was, and indifferent as he had proven him-
self in the face of death, could control himself,
so deep was his emotion at what he had heard.

“ A child you sa , Beatrice, our child ?”

“ Yes, a little r. Burt, and oh! he is so like
you—a perfect miniature in face and form of
you, my husband.”

“ I had not known this, Beatrice,” he said
after a moment of silence.

“ You deserted me, Burt, after we had been
but two months married, and have never cared
to come to me since,” she said softly, and yet
there was no reproach in her voice or look.

“ True, I did all that was mean—somehow I
am a great scam , Beatrice.”

“ No, no, I wil not say that Burt, for if you
were wholl bad I would not love you in spite
of all that had to forg've.”

“Bless you, little woman; but how beautiful
you have grown.

" You were pretty then, and a mere child; but-
you are beautiful now.”

Her face flushed with pleasure at the com-
pliment, which was really deserved, and then
she said sadly:

“But, Burt, can nothin be done to free you
from this awful fate that t reatens you?”

“ You think of me, Beatrice, and not of your-
self and child?”

“ I told you, Burt, I was not poor now and
little Burt and his mother will not suffer; but I
do wish you would acknowledge me as your
wife, so that your son could hear his father’s
name.”

“My name, clouded in infamy, aname that
instiganined with the brand of murderer and con-
vm .

“ Still we are not ashamed to bear it, Burt,
your son and I.”

The man trembled at her words, and turned
to the window.

.There he remained for several minutes, and
then said with deep earnestness:

“ Beatrice, your coming here, your beautiful
nature, and what you have told me of our boy,
has made a changed man of me.

“ I believed myself hated and feared by all,
loved by none, for even my beautiful sister has
not been near me in my distress.

“ I now know you in all our truth and love,
Beatrice, and I wish to live or you and our boy.

“ And Beatrice, m wife, I—” and he drew
nearer to her and whis red the words:

“ I will livel—I wil not die on the gallows,
and this I pledfie you, as I also pledge you my
word, that wi live for you and my son, and
as soon as I can make a home, to be al our own.
I will send for you and we will be happy, oh
so happy far from here.

" Do you believe me, my wife?"

Shie was amazed, startled and rejoiced by his
wor 3.

Could he mean them? Could it be that he
would not die after all?

What did he mean?

Her answer was said in a low tone, and her .

emotion she could not control.

“ If I could on] believe that you would not
die, that you won d live and all would be as you
say, Burt.”

lea! have given you my word, Beatrice, my
p e.

“ ore I cannot say but I am not one to die
like a dog when life is before me, and a bold act
will let me live.

“ 1 can tell you no more, I can only say that
it will be as I say. . ‘

“ I will not be strangled to death, for I will
escape, and I will go far from here and earn
men? to build up a home for you and my boy.

“ rust me, and I ask no more.

“ But I have money in bank, Burt, and the
sale of the old inn w ich father left me will
bring more.”

“ I am not the man to live on your gold, Bea-
trice, so Iwill earn more, and match your little
fortune with one of my own.

“ It may be a ion time, a ear or more, but
I will write you, an you will u the end he paid
for all you have suffered at my handS.

“ It is better to still keep our secret for I
will be a hunted man and cannot live under my
name, and if you were known as my wife and
left home, you would be followed.

“ Let all remain as it is now, as it has been.
Beatrice, and in good time I will send for you.

“ Will on trust me in this, my wife?”

“ Glad y, Burt; but I dread that you may not
image, for how can on?”

“ . 0 fear of that, or all is now arranged.”

“ Heaven grant there be no failure, for it
would kill me to have you die such a death.”

“ No fear of it, my dear Beatrice, for my
plans are too well laid and they cannot fail.

“ No, you will hear of my escape soon. and I

 

suppose you will also hear many evil rumors re-
gardin me, that I have turned pirate and all
that is d.

“ But believe nothing, only wait until you see
me, for I am oing away to seek a fortune for
us, and alrea y are my plans for the future ar-
ggnged, though now I can tell you nothing of

em.

“ I only ask your perfect trust in me, Bea-
trice.”

“ And I give it, Burt,” was the reply.

Soon after the wife who had borne so much
from the man who had made her his wife under
a false name, bade him good-by, and somehow
his hope set her heart at rest in its dread and
she believed firmly in his being able to escape.

Left alone Burt Brentford paced his cell to
and fro, his manacled ankle seemingly forgot-
ten, and the clanking chains as he moved seem—
ed not to be heard by him.

His face was set and stern, his eyes bright as
diamonds, as though full of ho for the future.

Suddenly be ap roached t e window and
leaning upon the 31 gazed out upon the scene
before him.

It was as though his thoughts were not with
him there, for he seemed not even to see the isl-
and-studded water of the bay, or the vessels at
anchor in it, or cruising about going in and go-
ing out upon their varied missions.

‘ Yes, I have something to live for now, and
my heart is not as gloomy and black as it was.

“She is my wife, and true as steel, and the
little boy, how I would 'love to see his innocent

r, but when I leave this loathsome
cell, I wil have the means to make a fortune at
my command.

“ I will not tell her that I won my fortune
under a rover’s flag; "but, must have gold
and as soon as I et enough for my wants, I
will give up the Wild, reckless, wicked life and
live for those whom I love.

“ I can find a hidin -place far from here, and
haunting specters of e past will not visit me
there.

“ No, l have something to live for now,‘ and
Heaven grant that this well-planned plot of my
strange, unknown rescuer does not fail— Ah,
Pat, you are a frequent visitor to-day,” and the
convnct turned as the door of his cell opened, and

Pat ap red.
“ i3): to see you, sir!” i

“ I just saw a lady, as you know.”

“ Yis, snr.”

“ Is it the same one?”

“No, sur, but she do be clothed in black jist
the same, snr.”

“ I do not care to see her, Pat.”

“ I’ll be afther saying that same to her,

“ Do so,” and Pat departed, while the brow of
the prisoner clouded, and he turned again to the
window and his interrupted reveries.

But in a few moments the door again opened,
and Pat said:

“She told me to say, sur, that it was Estella
as wanted to see yea. snr.”

“ Estelle, my— Yes, yes I will see her, Pat,
so bid her enter; and here, ’Pat, ut this in your
pocket for yohr little ones, and et no one dis-
turb me while the—the lady is here.

“ Do you understand!” ‘

Pat's wink was as expressive as words that he
did understand or thought he did, and he do-
parted, mu to himself: -

“ Well, well, how the ladies do be afther run-
ning after a man as is going to be hanged; inf
daide I”and they be queer cr'atnm is the wim-
m ns

 

CHAPTER XXIV.
m manna-stout.
Tn to Boston on the Salem road drew
upon time at the ferryacrmsan armof the
and just as the clumsy boat was about to

pu emailady and gentleman on horseback»

dashedruip and called theferryman to take than
on boa

, Under ordi circumstances, the ferryman
would have had await his return trip, but
a storm was sweeping up, and upon the shore they
were leaving there was no house or shelter near,

while there was upon the further side of the in-

let a small hamlet.
So the ferrymau put back the dozen yards to
the shore, and took them on board.

Perhaps, too, he was swayed by their am 

ance, which indicated a special fee for his
nem, and then, too, the beauty of the lady aided
him in his decision.

She was very lovely in face, scarme over
eighteen, and her form was the perfection of
grace, while she sat in her saddle w ith the skill
of a perfect horsewoman.

Her coupanion was an elderly ntleman,
with smooth-shaman face, long white air and a
look that was stern and resolute in the extreme.

That they were ple of refinement and

Wealth there could sepia?» doubt, and their spirit- . " ' L
ed brad homes looked

thorough as though they
had been ridden hard.

The f men were usin their huge sweeps

.withawil andsending t e cumbersome boat. I
d rats as possible, when a vivid .

seemed to rend the heavens m‘

 

 

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twain, and a crash of thunder followed that
shook the earth.

Instantly all was confusion for the steady-
> going stage-horses were frightened, and the
spirited animal ridden by the maiden reared
wildly, poised himself for an instant, and then,
amid cries of alarm, went backward over the
low rail of the ferry—boat into the waters,’ carry-
ing his beautiful rider with him.

Hardly had he disappeared beneath the now
rough waters, when from the box of the coach
sprung a man’s form, and also sunk from sight.

It was a moment of appalling suspense, for
the winds rushed down the inlet, lashing the
waters into foam, the thunder and lightnin
were continuous, and the driver and severe
passengers had all they could do to hold the

rightened stage-horses, for if they plunged over
the side the boat would swamp and all be lost.

The two men at the sweeps pulled like giants
tosave the rocking, tossing boat, and several
lad passengers in he coach were crying out
wit fear and wailing piteously.

The old gentleman, he escort of the young
horsewoman, had sprung from his saddle to leap
after her, though the words that came from his
lips showed how mad the act, for he cried in a
voice of anguish:

“ She is lost, and I can but die with her, for
I cannot swim a stroke!”

A 1\passenger seized him and said:

“ 0 that young man will save her.

“ He’s just the one to do it.”

Just then the maiden reappeared, and it'was
seen that her horse was dragging her, for her
foot was fast in the stirrup.

But by her side almost appeared the brave
rescuer, and seizing the stirrup stra he broke
it with one mi hty effort, and enc1rcling the
slender wrist o the young girl, said ina voice
that was perfectly ca .

“ Have no fear, for you are in no danger,
mtipfimg ” sped h l

0 an er! a t e oung gir as she
beheld the lgnky (gouds rivenyby constar’it light-
ning, heard the thunder-peels that Were deaf-
enin , and felt the waters dashed in her face
2y t e sweeping winds with a force that stung

er.

Then too the waves were dashing wildly,
though in miniature imitation of the sea. in
anger, and the ferry-boat, in spite of the efforts
of the men at the sweeggto steady it and head
the tempest, seemed to driving further and
further away.

All this the maiden beheld at a glance.

Then she looked up into the face of the man
who had dared come to her rescue.

She saw that he was one who had attracted
her attention before she rode upon the ferry,
for she had seen him speak to the ferryman,
as though to tell him to return for them.

Then she caught his eye twice, and noted in
her quick glance that he was very handsome
and possessed a splendid form, while he wore
the dress of a sailor.

And he it was who had come to her aid.

Nowasshelookedu into his face, at his words
that she was in no nger, she saw that there
was not the shadow of anxiety in it, only
conscious war to prove his words.

He he] her firml with his left arm, and
with wrong, bol stroke swam toward the

- t.
“ t is ing from us! see! see!” cried the

you gir .

“fie wind drives it along, the coach serv-
. ing as a sail; but if we cannot catch it, we can
reach the shore,” was the quiet reply.

“ But it is so far away, and you are mortal,
so could not reach there with me—save yourself
sir, and leave me.”

“ Not I, for it is not my nature.

,“ I will save you, for I never yet tired of
swimminfg ” was the firm res use, and some-
how she elt perfect confidence n his words.

she said:
“Ah! the boat will be lost! it will drive out
“‘93:! f th !”
ypoor, poor a er
I “ The boat must head for the shore and not
wait for us, or she will swamp "—and raising his
3033, and his words rang out like a bugle, he

:igo’thebo‘tx” tryi to it f b t
, av we are n we or on u
,, she wfil drive!” came rep y in the voicey of, the

man who had

prevented the old gentleman from

1, - Ilsaping after his daughter, and who had now

than one of the sweeps with the air of a man
who knew what he was about.

“Do not wait for us! the boat will swamp, so
pull for the shore.”

“ And you will—”

“ NeVer fear. we can reach it all right!

“DoasI tell you, oryouwillallgodown,for
the sea is increasing.”

There seemed to be some confusion on the
hosti for a minute, but the horses had been hop-
pled and thrown down, and with the male pas-
sengers now aidin at the sweeps, and the man
ago had anew mmthe boldtzwimmgr’s hthsoilfhav-
. rigged a sweep steer erry
‘ wore round securely. and in spite 0 her rolling
 to move toward the shore.

As as they could the three ladies, now

frightened into action, bailed out the water, as
the waves broke inboard, and all worked hard
except one person.

That one was the old horseman, and he had
climbed upon the stage-box and clung there,
gazing out over the wild waters at the dark
forms which now and then would appear on the
to s of the wziVes.

is lips moved, as though in prayer, his hat
had blown off, and his long white hair floated
out upon the wind. '

Presenting a small space to the wind, the dar-
ing swimmer and his fair char e were not
blown along with the speed that t e boat was,
and were edging nearer and nearer to the shore
toward a int which the ferry had already
passed, andp(:)nce under the lee of it, the great
danger would be over.

Thus several minutes of awful suspense passed
away, and the ferry reached the lee of the
point, which, but for the command of the swim-
mer it would never have done, for the waves,
rising higher and higher, would have swamped
it

A landing was made, the horses unbound and
the coach drag ed ashore, for it could be driven
from there bac into the high-road a mile above
at the little villa e.

The moment e could spring ashore the old
gentleman ran alon the point where he could
see the swimmer an the one whose life was in
his hands. ‘

Others followed and the group stood watching
the two forms in the water.

“ Noble! noble man i” broke from the old gen—
tleman’s lips.

“ I never saw a man swim like that, and I’ve
followed the sea for twenty year,” remarked the
man who had proved himself so useful on the
ferry-boat.

“ s the girl dead i” asked some thoughtless
one in the group, and instantly rung out the

cr :

x My child! my child! is she dead?”

“ No, father, and in no danger,” came clearly

back in response, and a cheer broke from all in
the group at her words, for they showed that
her preserver was yet swimming strong and un-
tiringly.
" Nearer and nearer they came, and then in
torrents the rain came down, blinding all who
faced it, and forcing all into the coach, which
just then drove up, except the old gentleman
and the sailor.

“ Will not this blind him, sir, and cause him
to lose his way, for I cannot see ten paces?”
anxiously asked the horseman.

“ I’ll ive him a hail, ir, for it is worrysome,”
and in t under tones he shouted:

“ Ho, shipmate, this way! this way for the
shore!”

But no answer came to the sailor’s call.

 

CHAPTER XXV.
rm: BOLD anscuna.

Warm the sheets of water came down the
swimmer was forced to turn his face from the
cutting rain, and for a moment seemed dazed.

'l‘iwice he swam about at random, and then
sai :

“ I have it now. for the rain comes fmm the
direction of the shore, and is a counter current
beating against the wind down the inlet.

“ We are all right now," and he struck out
once more as strongly as ever.

The young girl ad been forced to bury her
head upon is shoulder, to avoid the stinging
downpour, but she saw that her reserver was
at fault, and her heart sunk wit 11 her, to beat
joyoust again, when he so confident! set out
w th the same stron stroke as before, ut hav-
infiehanged his h u n her to his right arm.

tter of the ra n prevented the voice of
the sai or on the point from reaching them when
he first hailed:

But louder and louder rung his voice, while
some cried in horror:

“ They are lost! at last he gave it up!”

A ain the sailor hailed: .

“ ho ! shipmate, ahoy!” 

“ Ear !” cried the young girl.

“ Some one calls 1”

The swimmer had also heard, and said:

“ We are right, for the shore is yonder, and
th'elay hail to do us.”

hen he led out:

“ Ay, ay, sir—all safe !”

The cheer that answered reached the ears of
the two in the waters, and the swimmer swam
on with stronger, flercer strokes.

“ Oh, that could help you! Youare failing
str,‘ so l‘let me go and save yourself,” entreated
t egir

The answer came almost fiercely:

“ No; I save you, or die with you.

“ But you can aid me' here, cling to my
shoulders, a hand on one , and I can use bot
arms. »
“ There, that is it, and you are a brave little
woman.”

She noticed that his breath came quick, and

yet she showed rfect coolness. .
She would no drag him down by losing her
presence of mind.

 

So he swam on bravely, but his strokes were

 

weakening, and he asked her to hail, for he
dared not raise his voice.

“ Ahoy! ahoy!” rung out in the clear tones of
the girl.

The answer was a cheer close at hand, and in
the next instant the group on the point was
seen, looking like shadows through the pouring
mm.

It gave the splendid swimmer courage, and a
moment after is feet touched the bottom and
with his arm about the girl he had saved, he
tottered ashore.

To her father’s arms the maiden clung with a
glad cry, for her nerve was gone now, and the
rescuer would have fallen but for the strong
arm of the sailor who had grasped him by the
arm and said quickly:

“ Shipmate, drink this,” and a flask was held
to his lips.

A deep draught revived the swimmer after a
moment, and he was aided into the coach, just
as the old gentleman and his daughter came
up.

The former did not dare trust himself to
speak, so merely grasped the hand of the young
man, while the man with the flask said:

“A pull at this, miss, will help you, and the
old gent, too for you both needs it, and this
bold young teller has set you the example.”

The invitation was accepted, for the two did
need it, and the horse of the old gentleman hav-
ing been hitched behind, for the animal ridden
by the maiden had been drowned, the coach
rolled on to the village, where it was intended
to make a stop.

But as all were wet through and through
and the rain still fell in torrents, it was deci ed
to drive on to Boston with all speed, and on the
way to the inn the coach stopped at an elegant
house to leave the old gentleman and his daugh-
ter.

“ My name is Brentford, sir, Judge Burton
Brentford, and may I ask if ou will accept my
hospitality?” the old man b said to the rescuer
of his daughter.

“ Thank you, sir, but I will sail at once from
port ” was the answer.

“ on will surely permit me to call upon you
this evening, sir, for I am anxious to have a.
talk with you, that we may become better
friends.”

“ I am sorr , Judge Brentford, but the owner
of my vessel 5 to meet me, and I expect to have
to go at once on board ship and sail on a long
cruise.”

“ You will at least let me know the name of
my brave rescuer?” said Estelle Brentford in a
low tone. -

“Mark Monte. I trust you will feel no evil
effects from your adventure, Miss Brentford,”
and before more could be said the coach rolled
away. and Mark Monte was soon in his room in
the Commonwealth Inn, whither his kit had
been sent, so that he could change his wet cloth-
in for dry.

prompt had been the young sailor in obey-
ing his summons to Boston, that he had arrived
he ore he was expected by his employer, and so
held to wait at the inn until the latter should
ca 0

He asked a few questions regarding his cor—
respondent, Ford Burton, but those he in uired
of new nothing of a shipping merchant 0 that
name.

That evening, as he sat in his room, the name
of Jud e Brentford was brought up.

“Tel him I am out,” said Mark, not caring
to see his visitor.

“ The landlord has already told him you were
in, sir ” replied the servant.

‘ A right, ask the gentleman to please walk
up to my room,” and five minutes after Judge
Brentford entered the room.

“My dear Mr. Monte, I am rejoiced that I
found on, and you must pardon my forcing
mysel upon you, but remember what my home
would have been to-night but for your match-
less courage!” and the voice of the old man
quivered.

“ I assure (you sir; I did only what duty
animated, an beings. sailor it was not muc

o.

“ You are modest, sir; but you saved my
child to me, and just now it comes upon me wit
tenfold gratitude, for I suppose you know the
dishonor that has fallen upon my name, that.
my poor ho is to die, die on the gallows, and it;
was my du y to pronounce upon him the sen-
tence of death.” .

“ I did not know it, sir, though now I recall
the trial. and you have my deepest, heartfelt

'sy‘rpfiathy, Judge Brenth .”

is a bitter, a cruel blow to both my daugh—
ter and myself, and we Estelle and me, h
gone out to my country place to remain until all
was over, but unable to stand its memories, for
my boy was born there, we started back again
today t’0 m town home; but let me not s ak
0‘ myself, 1'. Monte but ask if you are a ins-
man of m old friend Captain Roland Monte of
the navy '

“His son, and I am glad to meet one who
knew my father, whose sad fate you know
doubtless?” ’

“ I heard of it,.sir, and his misfortunes, and I
recall having seen something of your troubles

  

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of late; but come, walk home with me, for you
can soon return, and Estelle will be so glad to
be able to thank you for the debt of gratitude
she owes on.”

Mark .\ onte hesitated.

Never before had be seen so beautiful a irl
as was Estelle Brentford, and never had is
heart been moved by any woman as she had
made him feel.

She was beautiful, an heiress, a belle in soci-
céty, and the daughter of a famous leader of the

ar.

He was poor, had been tried for crimes upon
the high seas, and was but the skipper of a small
trading—vessel. ‘

But he was warmly urged, and he could not
resilst the temptation to again meet the lovely
gir .

So he Went, and when he left the elegant
mansion of Judge Brentford, Mark Monte was
irrevocably in love with the maiden whose life
he had risked his own to save.

It was late when he returned to his hotel,
and he gave a sigh of relief when he learned
that Mr. Ford Burton had not called upon
him, and he retired for the night to dream of
Estelle Brentford.

CHAPTER XXVI.
ESTELLE BRENTFORD.

THE look of the condemned man was stern
and unbending, when Estelle entered the cell,
and Pat, the keeper, closed the door behind

er.

“ Brother!”

It was all that Estelle could say, and she
sprung toward him and threw her arms about
his neck.

“ You, then, have not utterly cast me off, my
sister?” said Burt Brentford, softened toward her
by her deep grief.

“No, oh, no! I have tried hard to get here
to see you, Burt, to tell you that I do not believe
you at heart all that they say you are, and that
you acted under impulse beyond control when
you killed the officer.

“ No, brother, I have faith in you that all has
not shaken.”

“ God bless you, Estelle!” and the man‘s voice
trembled as he continued:

“ But I am a bad man, for I did write father’s
name to that check to get money; but I was

driven to desperation by my debts, and the fear

of exposure.

“I oped to have made the money good, but
failed, and when Officer Hutchins came to arrest-
me, he was so insulting, telling me he was glad
to see an aristocrat in trouble, and then he at-
tem ted to put irons on me, remarking that he
wouldl chaitx:d 1516 like the d Ithat I was. hi

" ism en me, an sprung upon in
to fight for my freedom and escape. ’
h_“ e drew a weapon, and I turned it upon

im.

“ You know the result.

“ I fled, and I tried to live a correct life, hav-
ing had such a lemon.

‘I went to sea, rose to the command of a ves-
sel, and it was put in the slave trade, and I was
forced to wreck her to avoid capture, so lost all,
and came home to see if m father would not
give me the money that we d be mine when I
was of age.

“ It was what Uncle Luke had left me, a few
thousands only, but it would have enabled meto
get another vessel.

“He not only refused, but had me arrested,
and the result you know.

“ Now, my sister, you know my story in all
it: v'ilcncss, and yet you seem not to shrink from

0'

The man had spokeu in a low earnest tone and
his sister had listened with the deepest atterition
to every word he had uttered.

 “a. I ..

to r . vs tried hard to
you, but father forbade it. m

‘f He is unhappy, wretched, and we hav
twwe gone out to the coun homo and
again, for he is restless at all

“ To-da father was called to Breezy Hill on
account 0 damage done to 'the mansion by the
storm, and so I was determined to see on and
came as soon as he had driven away in car-

at

‘f I could not let you die, Burt, and sucha
death, without feeling that one at least loved

on and bitterly mourn our fate.”

‘ Ah, Estelle, such words c eer me; but let
me tell yam”?! sweet child,‘that the hemp is
got ygep’lan that will make the rope to

ang .

lShe started at his words and asked in a
w 15 r:’

“, hat do you mean, brother!”

“ I can trust on!”

“ With our ife.”

“ I shal not be hanged.”

:: I'Sha’pk God! is there a reprieve!”

o.

N 7
“ fiat: pardon?
“ A commutation of sentence?"
6‘ N0. 7‘
H
Burial] me what your strange words mean,”

\
\
\.

 

“ Well, sister mine, that you may not suffer,
as I see you do on my account, I will tell you
that I am not to hang, for friends are work-
ing to set me free, and I will surely go from
here very soon.”

“ Do you mean you will escape?” she asked in
a whisper.

I‘ Yes.”

She shook her head sadly.

“ I fear not, Burt.”

“Wait and see, and in the mean time hope.”

“ Should you be so fortunate, what then?”

“ Do you mean.as to my future .8”

“ Yes, brother Burt.”

“ I will go to sea as an officer on a vessel, and
some day maybe you will be glad to own me as
your brother.”

“ Heaven grant it 1” she fervently said.

Then she added:

“ Brother Burt, do you know I nearly lost my
life esterda ”

“ Indeed? ow was it?”

b “?You remember ‘what a thunder storm we
ad ’

“ Yes, the wind fairly shook this stout old
structure.”

“ As I told you, father was restless, and con-
cluded to come back to town, so we left Breezy
Hill on horseback, letting the wagon follow

'with our luggage.

“ We saw the storm coming up and rode
rapidly to catch the ferry boat,whic was taking
the stage coach over the inlet.

“ It had left the shore, but returned for us,
the ferryman evidently urged to do so by a
young man on the stage-box.

“The storm burst upon us in the middle of
the inlet, and the thunder fri htened my mare
Jess so that she reared and fe l backwards over
the rail of the ferry-boat and dragged me with

er.

“At the same instant the winds struck the
ferry. and all was a scene of desperate danger
and dire confusion.

“ I felt myself grasped by a strong arm, and
saw that it was the young man I had noticed
upon the box.

“He broke the stirrup—strap that . held my
fgot fast, and as Jess sunk, struck out for the
s ore.

“The ferry had blowfi some distance oil and
was pitching terribly, so he hailed and told
them to go to the shore, and ,that he could
swim there."

“ He must have had wonderful confidence in
himself and been a phenomenal swimmer,” said
Burt Brentford, deeply interested in the story.

“ He was the bravest man I ever met, and
he swam like a fish.”

“ And he saved you?”

“ He did, and the ferry also reached the
shore, while poor father had to be held to keep
him from springin in after me, though he
cannot swim a stro e.

“The gentleman reached the shore with me,
but it was a fearful strain 11 him, and we
all drove hastily on to town 9 stage putting
father and myself down at home.”

“ And the stranger who saved your life?”

“ He refused our hospitality, went on to the
tavern, and vs his name wrth seeming reluc-
tance; but ther called in the evenin _and
after considerable urging he returned wit him
and he proved to be the son of an old friend
of father’s, a Captain Roland Monte, of the
navy.

“ And his name is Monte?”

“ Yes; Mark Monte, and he is a sailor who
is to at once sail as captain of a vessel bound
to the West Indies, but he promised to come
and see us upon his return.”

“ And it will end in a pretty little romance ‘
I’ll bet' but if he is a worthy young man, a
right, though no man that I know is good enough
for you Estel e.”

Estelle Brentford blushed deeply, but soon
after bade her brother good-by, and her heart
was far lighter than when she had entered the
jail for she held hope that her brother was not
to die after all, and his confidence in his escape
had ins ired her with trust that all would come
out as c said.

CHAPTER XXVII.
waxna’s vrsrr.

Amn the end of the trial, which ended in the
acquittal of Mark Monte of the charges against
him, the Salemists had a respite from excite-
ment for awhile, for even Whalers Nemesis
seemed to have sto his ng robberies of
the incoming v s.

That Malcolm Meredith, whose name all had
begun to fear, had dared come into the port of
Sn em, with his vessel disguised, not a soul in
the town would have believed, and that the es-
cape of Mark Monte from the llows was‘ow-
ing to his having. found Captain Hudson, who
disapproved all charges against the young
sailor no one suspected, other than the few
most interested.

Having disappeared mysteriously: after his
geflat service, not even Mark Monte new where

 

ndhim et in its of all rumors against
him, with kind hsspbclieved that after all the

dashing sailor might be innocent, for he re-
membered how black things had looked against
him at one time.

\Vas her lover really guilty, or would he come
some day and prove that he was cruelly sinned
against, was the thought ever uppermost in the
mind of Ethel Monte.

She saw her brother again go to sea with fear
and dread.“

She was not in want, for there was money
left from the sum Mark had borrowed on the
gem-studded miniature, and which Malcolm I
Meredith had redeemed and returned to her.

Then, too, she was not alone, for Captain
Hudson was a friend and adviser, while her lit-
tle home was fitted up with more comfort than
ever before.

She had with her household duties. her cow
and chickens, ample to occupy her mind, and she
expected to be busy, and thus drive away evil
forebodings.

The day after Mark’s departure she was
seated upon the front porch with old~Captain
Hudson, when a vessel entered the harbor.

She appeared to be a lumber schooner, and
her bowsprit had been broken off, and a jury
one rigged in its lace, while her topmasts were
gone, and her sai 3 old and torn.

She looked to have seen rough weather and
had to all appearances come in in distress. 0

She was loaded deep, and the lumber on her
decks completely hid er hull.

Upon her decks half a dozen men Were visible,
and she sailed along in a very lubberly manner.

She dropped anchor after passing the cottage,
and neither Ethel or Captain Hudson thought
more of her, after remarking upon her havmg
been in rough weather and being d’eeply laden.

But when morning came the strange craft
was not visible. and wondering at her quick de-
parture after coming into the harbor in dis-
tress, Ca tain Hudson spoke of it to Ethel, who
at once t on ht:

“ Could it gave been his vessel?”

Just then they saw Wanda the “’itch comin
in her skiff, and heading as though to land a
Cliff Cottage, and she at once went down to the
shore to meet her. -

She had not seen Wanda since Mark’s trial,
and she had formed a sincere regard for the
strange woman whom all else seemed to 'hate
and certain] greatly dreaded.

“ Well, ands, I am glad you have come to
see me,” she said, as the witch brought her skill
ashore and sprung out.

“ You are the only one who is ever glad to see
me, Miss Ethel; but, I came because I have I

O

something to say to you.”
“Ah! is there more trouble!” asked Ethel
anxiou

s1 .

“ No child, but has your brother gone?”

“ Yes, he left yesterday.”

“ He’s gov as skipper, has he not?”

“ Yes, of a vessel out of Boston and bound to
the West Indies.”

‘ “ Luck to him then. for he deserves it.”

“ He certainly does deserve success after all of
his misfortunes, and he is a brave, noble follow,
that brother of mine.”

“He is all _that you say; but. when does he
sail

i”

“ To-morrow: I guess, and perhaps today;
but why do you ask?”

“Oh, only because a craft sailed out of this
port last night that may meet him.”

“ Indeed! what craft was it, good Wanda?"

“ Did you notice a vessel come in yesterday
afternoon!” ,

“ A schooner?”

66 Yes.”

“ I saw a lumber craft come in, schooner rig-
ged, and she seemed to be in distress and anchor-
ed pfl yonder ’5, but she was gone, strange to say,
this morning.

' “ Not much distrem was she in.”

“ But her topmasts were broken off, and a
spar seemed in place of her bowsprit, while her
sails were torn. ’

“ All put on.”

“ What do you meant”

“ She was not in distrem.”

“She surely looked it."

“ She had no number on deck.”

“ The one I refer to had.”

“ It was make believe. .

“She keeps a frameworkdn her hold to put .

up at will, and play honest lumberman, and.
those broken topmasts and spar for a bowsprit '
were all rigged for a purpose, while the torn
sails were bent on in place of good ones.

“ That craft was the brig, or schooner for
gable, both at will, of Captain Malcolm M’ere-

t .

“ Oh Wanda !” ’

“ It is so.”

“And he dared come into portr’

“ Oh (yes, he dare do anything.” ,

“ An he has gone?”

if Yes.”

“ But how do you know this?”

“ He came to the cabin to see me.”

“ Ab! and why,  Wanda?”

“ Well, he mys that all believe him a ,
andsohshastohidohimsclf untilhecan proso‘

to the contrary. a
“ He did good wprk to save your brother, but 1

a

\ "

 

4;. y

.,'l

 

1",; ,—» ~_-v;-‘—,- .—- a. we 7..   ---

. (J

i said in a whisper, dropping the ecc

i , “You

5 said

’i‘
as

9; libert
 0

1—6

, new,“ mil: 3:“ 3Z1] .

-- ’ _ v'L . . '» _ U .,.
“LIV IA... , - l‘ .m‘. 1”?

Monte, the Matineer.‘

 

wishes to keep away from you until he proves he
is no freeboiiter.

“So he ran in, came to see me and learned
from me that your brother had gone, so said he
hOpml to find him at sea.

“ Then he asked me to come and tell you that
he had been into port, and give you this note
from him.”

“ Ab!" and Ethel grasped eagerly at the little
folded paper which anda took from her bosom
and handed to her.

“ Now I will leave you.”

" No, is there no answer?”

“ None, for he said nothing of when he was to
return.”

“ One moment, Wanda?”

‘6 Yes !”

h “_ 1%,? you believe him to be the pirate they say
0 1s ‘

“ I do, and I do not—I know not what to be-
lieve—yet.

“ But I will know.”

The woman turned without another word,
sprung into her skiff and sailed awa.

And oing into the little arbor thel opened
and rear the note.

It was but a few lines:

‘ffl‘rust me in the face. of seeming proof of my
gun r.

“ Some day the clouds will roll away, and the
truth be known.

“ MALcous MEREDITH.”

“ I will trust him,” was Ethel’s firmly spoken
words when she had read what her lover had
written.

 

CHAPTER XXVIII.

, FOR LIFE AND FOR GOLD.

BURT Baaxrronn's nerve did not fail him,
as night approached and be expected the visit of
the pretended priests.

He had been deeply moved by the visit of his
wife and his sister during the day, but he had
regained his perfect self-control, and when the
door of his cell opened and admitted two persons
in priestly garb, he was as calm as it was his
wont to be. '

“Two holy fathers to see yez, Mistur Brint~
ford, .and hapes 0’ good may they be afther
doing yez,” sail Pat, by way of introduction.

“My son, I am glad to see you looking well,
and I have brought good Father Ronald to see
you and look to your spiritual comfort while I
am called away,” said the pretender who had
plannedthe esca of the prisoner.

But, as Pat c osed the door and departed, he

esiastical
whine he had assumed: '

“ This is your man.”

“ Ah! ’ ,and turning to the stranger, Burt
Brentford continued:

“You understand my case?” 0

“ I think so.”

“ I was found guin of murder and am sen-~

tenced to be hanged.’ ~
“ 3) I have heard.”
"I do not care to hang, so my’good friend

g ' here has planned a way to save me.

“ It is a goodsplot.” -

“I am to go free, and you are to take my
place?” - ‘

“ Yes, for gold.” .

“ Yes, I get my life, and you get your gold."

“ Exactly.”

2: IYplu $0mprehend that you will be punished 1"

o. ‘

“ It may be a couple of years.”

“ The rest from imipation will do me good
mentally and physically.”

“ An your money?"
, “ I hanve deposited it to draw interest until I

on -
_“ Then there is no more to say?”
“ Nothipig.”
l by on hand tomorrow night?"

“ Promptly. v

" “Well, now I look at you, I believe I can

.rreadfly pass for you.” .
“03:, yes, though you are a very handsome

"‘ Thank you, and I undei‘sand your sly com-

 pliment in your words to yourself.

The pretended priest bowed, and the other

“You are as like as t ‘o peas when on Mr.
Brentford, have been clan shaven.” y ,

 '“1 will do this for youLand cut your hair

Icome to-morrow nig t.”

. “Very well; and on, sir, I will meet where?”
‘1' “ At the wharf w are I told

you.”
“ Then there is nothing more to be done but

a

“ othing,” and the two frauds took their de~

e, and Burt Brentford was left alone with

s hopes and fears. . '
he next day he passed alone, and as darkness
t the hay out of sight, excepting the twink-

; ' li hts of the vessels at anchor he turned
fins {3 .

is window and waited. ,
. An hour passed, and than steps were heard in
{the corridor. . ’
 .Ths lock grated as the he was turned t
 opened, and the man w owas to sell \h s
for gold was ushered in by Pat, who
the door,at once. .
" ““You are'on time, sir.” - , i

A

 

A

“Yes; it is to my interest to be”

" Have on your razor?”

“ Yes, am all ready for work,” and the pre-
tended priest at once began operations.

The long mustache of the prisoner was cut ofl,
his waving brown curls were clipped short, and
the garb of the visitor soon enveloped his form.

He did then look strangely like the other man,
whom he was to impersonate.

“ You know the corridors, I suppose?”

“ Oh ves, I traveled them often, to and from
my trial.”

“ Then there will be no trouble i”

“ None; but throw yourself on my cot, for I
shall call the keeper now.”

“Luck attend you.”

“ I shall not fail; good-by, and accept my
thanks.”

“ You are welcome to what I am to do for
you—good-by.”

They shook hands, and the prisoner in his dis-
guise called out:

“ Ho, kee r, I am ready to go now.”

“Yis, fat er, I’m afther coming in ajilfy,”
replied Pat, and be soon 0 ened the door.

‘ My son, you are a g fellow, and must not
neglect an unfortunate friend here who is to die
so soon.”

“ No, your Riverence, I’ll be as good to him as
though he were alridy did,” and as though to
prove his Words, Pat called out: '

“ Good-night, Misther Brintford, and pleasant
drames attind yes.”

It was not exactly the consolation to extend a
man under the shadow of the gallows, but Pat
meant well.

“ Good-night, Pat,” came from the man on the
cot, and the other followed the keeper out of the
cell and along the corridor.

“ I’m thinkin , yer Riverince, he‘ll die game,
will Misther Brintford,” volunteered Pat, as they
went along.

“ It will be better, my son, if he will die re-
pentant,” was the response.

“ Thrue for yez, your Riverince, but that’s
for yez to be nfther seeing to.”

Passing through the office the jailer was there,
and asked how the priest left the prisoner.

“ In calm mien and prayerful, my son,” was
the answer.

“ I am glad, sir, for I feared he was going to
the allows with a spirit of bravado.

“ ut he certainly has shown wonderful
nerve.”

“ Yes, my son," and the pretended priest used
his handkerchief freely, having been suddenly
attacked with a fit of con hing.

Thus he kept his face idden from the lore-
ingéayes of the jailer and passed on out in the
yar .

Once out of the gate and he could hardly sup-
press the cry of joy that arose to his lips.

But he did so, and walking rapidly on soon
neared the wharf where he was to meet the
man whose plot had proven so successful.

He saw a form pacing to and fro, and as he
approached, the man stepped quickly toward
him with the remark:

" You are the prisoner?” .

“ Oh, no I’m the free man, for the prisoner
is in his eel ,” was the reply.

«“ I understand, and I congratulate you upon
your escape.”

“ As I do you- upon your plot.

“ Now 'what is to be done?”

“ I will take you at once to the vessel, only do
not go on board with that priestly garb on.

“ I will remove it at once.”

“ And put this ca and cloak on ” and the
plotter handed over t 9 articles named.

“ I am ready, sir,” and the two 8 ped out
of the, shadow of a large warehouse an walked
toward a slip.

There a boat awaited with two cannon and
a coxswsin, and getting into it, the order was

ven:

“ Pull for the schooner. "

Soon thev arrived alongside of a large armed
schooner that was riding at a single anchor,
and with sails ready to set at an instant’s
notice.

The one who had planned all led the way into
the cabin, and his companion’s eyes moved
quickly over the vessel and her rig.

The cabin was brightly lighted, and revealed
a very comfortable sea home indeed, for it was
handsome] furnished, and eve luxury had
been my ded that a sailor cou d ask for, it

seem .

“ Now, Captain onte—”

“ Why do you i me Monte?”

“ That is your name, you know?”

“Ah yes, I had forgotten."

“ Th s schooner I now lace undegdyour com-
mand, and she is arm provision and man-
ned, all ready for sea in act. . x

“ She carries ten guns, eighty men, and is a
very stanoh and fleet craft.‘

“You have two under officers. whom I shall
call in and present to you, and then I shall go
ashore for one who is to be nominally her com-
mander until you at to sea.

“ Here are yourfinstructions then, and you go
as first officer until you get to sea, and then the

 

nominal captain you will know, from what I

, have, written you, jupt what to do with.

 

“ Remember you are Captain Monte, and your
schooner is the Black Bird, a buccaneer cruiSer.

“ Do you understandi”

“Perfectly, sir.”

“Then I shall return within the hour with
your nominal commander.

“ Now, if you will come on deck, I will have
you meet your junior ( flicers.”

Burt Brentford arose without a word, and his
mysterious commander called up two young
officers and introduced them by name, not speak-
ing the name, however, of the commander of
the schooner, but saying:

“ This gentleman is your superior oflicer
whenever he deems fit to take command.

“ Do you understand?”

“ Yes, sir,” was the reply, and the plotter left
Elle schooner, promising to return within the

our.

 

CHAPTER XXIX.
IN COMMAND.

WHEN the da followin his arrival at the
Commonwealth nn pa , and his romised
employer did not come, Mark Monte gun to

grow a little anxious.

He could not understand the delay, and more,
he was unable to leaVe the Inn as he expected
,his sister at any moment. _ 1

After supper he went to his room and sat
there in deep meditation.

The lovely face of Estelle Brentford arose be-
fore him, and he shuddered as he thought how
sudden would have been her death but for him.

He had noticed her when she rode upon the
ferry-boat, and he had indeed begged the ferry-
man to await her father and herself.

Their eyes had met, and his mental observa-
tion was that excepting his own beautiful sis-
ter never had he beheld face and form so
lovely.

When the thunder frightened her horse, he
had thrown aside his coat, hat, and shoes, and
instantly sprung after her.

He remembered how she had trusted him
how she had begged him to save himself, an
then his ,determination to save her or sink with

her.

The kindness of the judge he recalled, and
how a stern man, whom all seemed to stand in
awe of and considered themselves fortunate if
recognized by him, he had been so gentle in
his manner toward him, and had made him feel
at once at home in his elegant mansion.

Thus in deep reverie sat the young sailor, '

when a visitor was announced by the servant.

A man with white hair and heard entered, a
man who stooped a little, and was wrapped up
as though fearing cold.

“ My dear young friend, I am glad to see

on!
y “ I am Mr. Ford, your father’s old friend,”
said the visitor, grasping the hand of the young
sailor.

“I am happ to meet you, Mr. Ford, because
on were my ather’s friend, as well as for your
indness to me.

“ Be seated, sir, and as the night is chilly, let

me order you a glass of wine.”

“ No no, thank you, for we must be of! at
once i you are ready.”
“ am read , sir.”

" The fact I was out of town, so just ar-
rived Captain Monte, but we will at once go on
board the schooner, sir.

“ I am sorry, sir, I have not time to talk over

I

matters with you, but here are my written.

instructi and when you have passed out b
Boston mt, break the seal and read them. y

“ The so ooner is all ready, sir, and in perfect
trim, and let me now give you the hint that her
voyage will be dinerent from what you suppcse,
and t e craft is thoroughly armed and manned
for-.1}: 1ial cruisrei.” i I

' sasurp setome,sr for suposed
she was to be a trader.” ’ p

“ Well, she goes under Government orders,
sir; but your instructions will acquaint on with
all that now have not time tomaks nownto

on.

“I read of your misfortunes, sir and know
)on as a gallant man and perfect sailor, so you
are the one for my work.

“ Now let us be ofl'." ‘

Wondering, Mark took up his kit and follow-
ed his stran e patron. .

They left a hotel quietly and walked slowly
along toward the harbor, soon arriving at a
place where there was a boat in waiting.

Entering the boat they were rowed in silence '
out to a schooner, which even in the darkness at- -

meted the eye of the young sailor for her great
beauty of model and symmetry of ri . ‘

They were hailed as they approached and the
old man answered:
“ The captain.”
“ Ay, ay, come alongside,” was the re ly.
guarding, the old man called ma 0 car and

“This gentleman is Captain Monte, and he
takes the schooner to sea, as you 0W.

“ He has instructions, as you have."

“ Yes, Mr. Ford,” replied theomt‘er addressed,

and he sped the hand of Mark Monte.
» fihen e gentleman addressed as “ Mr. Ford ”
sa :

4

fish,2
fine)".

i

 

  

 

 

.‘o'  ,-' tang“; . 1,111 .i" ‘>   ,‘xi 7., nv. ,t3:4_* in . d y
. , . at . ,. ma,

’x

u.) '1. s
a

Minute, the Mutineer.

 

,.‘:v..,

17

 

 

“ Now, gentlemen, I must leave you, and cap-
tain, it 13‘ my wish that you go at once to sea,
and be good enough to attract no more atten—
tion in going out than absolutely necessary, for
as I told you your vessel was bound upon a
special secret service.

“Farewell, sir.” and the old man grasped
M-irk Monte 5 hand and turned away.

llark escorted him to the gangway, and saw
him into his boat, after which he at once turned
t ) an officer and gave the command to get up
the anchor and set sail.

The order was promptly obeyed and the grace-
ful schooner went gliding seaward under easy
canvas.

Out upon the waters was the boat with the
old man, who now was alone, for the oarsmen
had belonged to the schooner’s crew.

He watched the schooner disappear in the
gloom and then rowed shorewa‘d, made his

cat fast and walked at a pace that belied his
white hair toward the Commonwealth inn.

Ere he reached there be halted in the shadows
of a building, straightened himself up, took from
his head the hat and a wig, and from his face
the false white beard, and walked into the
office of the inn.

“ My keys, )lease,” he said to the night clerk.

“ Yes, Mr. aws,” and the clerk handed it to
him and he went to his room.

Once within he made himself comfortable,
and taking up pen and paper wrote a letter,
which afterward he read half aloud to him-
self.

The letter was as follows:

“ CAPTAIN EZRA Van:—

“ DEAR Sim—l send this letter by special mes-
senger, as I think it 'best to remain here a day or
two and gain what pomts I can after the discovery
is made that your vessel has been cut out from her
anchorages; pirate-s

“ I am gl toucguaint you with the fact that the

oung sailor arrive on time, and stopped at this
nn. -

“ I already had all arranged to come for him at
the last minute. and beg to state that my plot with
the real captain was successful in every respect.

“ The party left to represent him secured his
money and deposited it for his future use, so awaits
the result. and I stated in a previous letter what that
result would be. _

“ The instructions for the one who deems himself
commander will surprise him. when he opens them
at sea, and the one who takes charge then under-
:tands all thoroughly and is master of the situa-

ion.

“The vessel has sailed, and I watched her out
of sight, so there is nothing now in the way of suc-

cess.

“In a few days I shall return and report in per-
son.

“Until then, believe me.

Your very humble servant,
“Jus'rm Laws."

 

CHAPTER XXX.
A. HETAHORPHOSIS.

AT eight o’clock upon toe morning following
the ni ht that covered the deeds related in the
forego ng chapter, there was some commotion
discovered by outsiders going on within the jail.

Messengers left, and went to and fro, and soon
Government omcials of the town were seen to
enter the dismal walls.

At last it leaked out that the prisoner, Burt
Brentford, under sentence of death, had made
his escape.

This rumor spread about the 15mm, and was
not very long in reaching the ears of Estelle
Brentford, for the coachman, who had gone for
tsiohmall, heard the story, and hastened liome

t it.

Estelle‘s face turned pale when she heard it,
and than flushed with 0y.

“ He said he won] not die on the gallows,”
she murmured, and after sending the coachman
again down to the town to glean what news he
could, she went to her room to rejoice over what
she had heard, and pray that there was no mis-
take about it.

The news also reached a person pacing to and
fro in a pleasant room of a cozy inn.

Upon the floor sat a boy of seven years of age,
a handsome, manly little fellovV, floating a pret-
ty model of a brig in a basin of water.

The woman was the one who had visited Burt
Brentford the day before in his cell, and who
the reader knows was his wife. ’

The boy was their little son. _

The poor wife, with white face and burning
eyes, Was pacing the room. and her thoughts
were upon her husband in his cell.

Suddenly she heard two persons talking in the
corridor, and she started as the words came to
her ears:

“ Yes, he escaped last night, so has cheated
the allows.” ‘

“ at how in Heaven's name could he escape
from that place, Morton .

“No one knows; but it iscertain that he is
one, for his lawyer’s clerk boards here, you
now, and he said at dinner just now that Brent.

ford had escaped.”

The two men paced on, and Beatrice Brent-
ford heard no more.

'With a cry that startled her boy she sunk
u “1:! her knees by the bed and began to pray

1" Mhmma, it isn’t bedtime.

  

 

“What makes you say your prayers now!”
asked the little boy, coming to her side.

“ Because mamma has much to be thankful
for, my son.

“ 1(an down and say your little prayers,
too.

The boy obeyed, and then the woman arose
from her knees, a happy smile upon her face,
and said:

“Come, my son, we will take a walk in the
streets.

“ Mamma wants to hear what is going on.”

And so they went out for their walk, and
wlhgt Beatrice Brentford heard made her heart
g a .

In the mean time the coachman had returned
to the Brentford mansion and told Estelle that:

“ Master Burt had certainly made his escape.”

“ Father will return to—night, or I would send
you after him, J ames,” said Estelle, and she
went to receive her brother’s attorney, who had
called to make known the news.

In the mean time the jail officials were all in a
ferment.

Pat, the keeper of Brentford’s cell, has as
white as a corpse, and the jailer was nearly as
pale and equally nervous, while the town officers
were examining into the means of the prisoner’s

escape.
I Pat’s story was told with a look that showed
he was honest in all he said.

He stated that the two fathers had come the
evening before, and as one who had been a
friend of the prisoner, and his regular attend-
ant was called away for a few days, another
priest was to come and pray with the unfortu-
nate man.

The other priest had come, and after remain-
ing half an hour in the cell had asked to be let
out.

He, Pat, had escorted “ his Reverence ” to the
gate, and the jailer had held a short conversa-
tion with blm as he passed throu h the office.

As he made his last round of t 6 cells at mid-
night, he had noticed the prisoner snoring,
something he had not known him to do before,
so he had called to him and been promptl an-
swered that he was all right, but had a co d, he
thought. .

In the morning at eight the jailer’s wife went
with the risouer’s breakfast, and a man, not
Mr. Brent 0rd, had said:

“ Good-morning, madam—permit me to intro-
duce myself as all that remains of the departed
Burt Brentford.” .

The woman had uttered a shriek and drodpped
the salver with the breakfast, and Pat be dis-
covered that there had been a remarkable met»
morphosis.

“ he lady’s nerves are not strong, and strange
too for a habitant of this dismal abode—pray
replace the breakfast she has destroyed as soon
as gamble, for I have quite an appetite."

had said the prisoner, and Pat had yelled
aloud until help came.

That’s all he knew.

The jailer told his story, as did also the jailer’s
wife and every one connected with the jail was
examined separately.

Then the prisoner’s substitute was sent for,
and all remarked his striking resemblance to
Burt Brentford, when one was not particular to
make a close inspection.

Their height was the same and the contour
of their faces, and dressed in the garb of a priest
it was very natural that the ailer and his assist-
ants should be v.9 readily eceived, so that the
idea that they ha been bribed was at once dis-
missed.

It was a clever escape by a clear case of de-
ce tion. .

he prisoner appeared in double irons, for Pat
had seen to that.

And yet he came in with a smiling counten-
ance and said pleasantly:

‘.‘ Good-mornin , gentlemen.

“ I trust your onors find yourselves well this
fine morning?”

" Their Honors ” were astounded. _
Th‘gy looked very an and intensely stern.
“'3 ho are you, sir roared the senior of the
P" -

“ A prisoner,” was the unnamed reply.

“ Your name, sir!"

There was a twinkle in the prisoner’s eyes as
he answered:

“ Sam Slick, your Honor.”

“ Yes, and you are slick by nature, air, as well
as by name."

“ You flatter me, your Honor.”

“ Silence. sir! and tell me what all this means!”

“Your Honor, how can I be silent and tell
you what you would wish i"

“ Look here, sir, you stand in a very dangerous
position. "

“ You occupy the cell of a man condemned to
be hanged, and you look enough like him to
hang you and say nothing about his escape, so
keep a civil tongue in your head.”

TE: prisoner laughed and the questioner again

" Now tell me what this means?”

“ Ah! your Honor now puts it in a way I can
understand. ,

“ It means, sir, that I did not wish to'see my

x

..\

 

I
. a
, ! ,

 

dear friend' Brentford. hung, so .1 

priest, for I knew that all you could do to me
was to bring the charge of aiding and abetting
the prisoner’s escape and my punishment can-
not be more than two years’ imprisonment.

" I am not so sure of that, sir. ’

“ I am though.”

“ And this man Brentford accepted his pardon
at your expense?”

“ Oh no, I took his place at his expense- you ‘

see he has done well by me and 1 can only re-
turn the compliment—and it would be death to
him and is but a short imprisonment to me.”

“ You shall get all that the law can inflict,
sir, for your crime.”

Mr. Sam Slick smiled blandly, and was then
sent to his cell, but which was a different one
from the one which had been occupied by Bart
Brentford.

 

CHAPTER XXXI.
UNDER A CLOUD.

IT was late when Judge Brentford re-
turned to his home, but Estelle was up
awaiting him, and he heard with stern, white
face the news she had to tell him.

Estelle thought that from his lips came the
murmur:

“Thank God!”

But she was not sure,and kissing her father
good-night went to her room.

The judge paced the library until nearly
dawn, but the father and daughter met at a.
late breakfast. I

The morning paper had arrived, and both
were anxious to know all that had occurred,
sondadjourned to the library as the judge
sai :

“ My child read to me what the paper
sa s.”

’nfolding the morning journal, Estelle
read as follows:

“THE HANGMAN FOILEI)!
“ Wotvns‘ m Snnnrs‘ CLOTHING!
“ A CLEVER ESCAPE FROM DEATH!
“ Tna Fncmvn Goxn 'ro Sui
“WILL IT BE THE BLACK FLAG?

“ one of the cleverest and boldest rescues we ever
heard of was made last night from the town jail,
when Mr. Burt Brentford. who was under sentence
of death, escaped from his cell and became a free

man.

“The trial and condemnation of Burt Brentford
artlalégo fresh it‘ll ttllile glinds (tit our prftahders toflie 1:-
ca now, an e copes sym was 8 t
our citizens for the father and sister 0 the unfortuy-
nate young man, and many will now doubtless be
rejoiced for their sake at least that he has escaped
his doom of a death on the gallows.

“ From all we can learn of the escape of Brentford,
it seems that he refused the kind oflices of our

clergymen, but permitted one who was supposed to ‘

be a missionary priest to visit him.

“Not the slightest suspicion was amused by the
occasional visits to the prisoner of the man who
goved to be a wolf in sheep’s clothing, for he cer-

was no priest.

“ 0 stated several (1:33 ago that he was called
out of town, so introduc one he said was a brother
priest. and this is the man now in the Jail in the
place of Brentford.

“ Ho visited the prisoner and can-led out his plot
with ect success.

" e shaved the prisoner, cut his hair and changed
clothing with him and, u the two were stra
alike, without a thought am all was not
Patrick O’Grady. the keeper of the corridor in w ich
was the cell of the condemned man pe
to pass out, and even the jailer wh
words to the sude priest. did not suspect him
of being the man e had under

" The next morning the cheat was discovered. and
the man remaining in the cell gave his name as San
Slick. took the situation with perfect indifference,
and said that he had
friend andwould accept the ternative.

“But another strange circumstance is connected.

rm ‘.
o spokcafew L »

aimp done his dutyhya‘

.. w- .._ tummy-.3 ¢~.._,,...;...~..,....-_..

 

with theeecapeof Brentford.and thatis ihemyu- . 

tax-loos ppearance of the beautiful schooner
Blackbird, just fitted out and armed byawealthy

merchantasacnnsertorundownthenoted buocnr.‘

160::- Malcolm Meredith in his fleet craft theBed
'9.

“ There was not a keeper on the schooner, as she

was waiting for her crew and commander, who wan ,

to have been Captain Mark Monte, a young sailor
who has lately been under trial at his homeln Salem
upon the charge of mutiny, but of which be was
found not guilty.
“ This young cap
lazého Gammonweahg Inn, but file, 30, disc
n more a e vern a
in: thfi wattage“ at once to

ad
stab

“ It is believed that Brentford sailed on this “cool, *
and if so, the schooner went without orders from -
her owner and with a crew who cut her out under; I

cover of the night.

“And more. if shesailed with Monte as heron 


taln. he has done an act that Will
vessel under the ban of outlawry.

“ Who the first pretended priest was noone knows...
nor can an trace be found of him, and the
remains nt upon an one put to him. otthr

than that he acted to serve his friend Brentford, to l“-

wbom he owed a: that he did. _ , .
“ the man cannot be forced to speak, lie-fl"
begiventheftnlpenaltyofhiscrlmein
W’s escape and for contem
facing to answer the questions put
(

had arrived in town and“;

 

 

of court It to} 

 

H
,, .


 
  

 

 

“ ,

 

‘ Mbnt'e, » the" “Huff/ne'er. '  I I 

 

 

 

“The whole aflair is most in sterious. and we
would not be surprised if the lackbird, once an
African slaver, would beCome again a hunted vessel,
and whether under the black flag of the pirate, time
will show.”

Such was the article which Estelle Brent-
ford read to her father. _

Several times she paused in her reading,
either from emotion, or to see if her father
had aught to say; but the judge made no
comments until she had ceased reading, and
then said:

“ My child, who do you think has thus
befriended your wicked brother?”

“ Father, I have no idea; but certain it is
that Burt has had friends who have proven
as true as steel.”

“ Yes, and I regret he is not more worthy
of such friendship; but this man who is in
his stead ?”

“ Who can he be, sir?”

“No one seems to know, from what the
news aper says.

“ ell, Burt has escaped the gallows, and
I can but feel glad that at last that ignominy
is spared us.

“But can it be that he has but gone to
lead a life of sin?”

“ I do not believe it, father?”

“ Then Why should he go on this vessel?”

“ It is but a suspicion that he has done so,
father.”

“True, and that noble fellow Monte, he

certainly cannot be what the paper hinted?"

“ He told you, sir, when he was here, how
he was accused, tried and proven guiltless.”

“ True; but why did he go on the schooner
without her legitimate crew and with no au-
thorit to sail?”

“T at, too, is surmise—in fact, father,
perhaps Captain Monte has been led into
some trap.”

“Ah! I had not thought of that, Estelle.

“ It is a mystery all around, and I shall at
once see if our brave rescuer has met with
trouble, an he shall not want for a friend,
if he has.

“ I will go at once down-town.”

And the judge did so; but several hours
spent in search and inquiries discovered no
mere than what the paper had stated to be
the facts of the case.

 

CHAPTER XXXII.
THE VAILED vrsr'ron.

THERE was a great deal of excitement in
the town over the escape of the condemned
prisoner, and the mysterious flight of the
schooner Blackbird.

A cruiser had at once been dis etched in
pursuit of the fugitive craft, an secret ser-
vice men gone in every direction to try

I, and find the prisoner, or some clew to

whither he had gone.

Of Mark Monte nothin more was known
than that he had receive an aged visitor in
his room, and had soon after gone out with
him, tellin the clerk he was oing to sea.
hiIn proo of this, he carri his kit with

m.

' No one knew who his white-haired visitor
could be, and so all trace of the young
sailor was lost.

The schooner had been cut out, that was
certain. for people who had been out on the
wharves late at night, reported hating seen

several boats going to and from the lapd and

the Blackbird.
Two coasters coming up the harbor had

;, met the schooner going out, and reported

that they believed hera cruiser, for her uns
were run out and her decks were ful of,
men.

She showed no lights, strange to say, and
under the sail she ad set, seemed to fairly

.fly along over the waters.

In the mean time the man who had given

' his name as Sam Slick sat in his cell in the
‘ jail, taking matters with an indifference that
 showed a nature equal to all emetgencres.

He ate heartily, read when he felt in the

' humor, for he had fallen heir, at his own re-

I

quest, to the things left in the cell and be-
lon ing to Burt Brentford.
' e chatted pleasantly with his keeper,
ho, however, being Pat, was in‘ no pleasant

~ ’inood toward him.

Pat was an on account of his daring to

ay the rt 0 a priest, as well as his hav-
ng so ceverly fooled him and aided the
escape of the prisoner. v

 

 

“ A lady to see yez, my foine bird, an’ ch
was afther havin’ my way, I’d let no one say
yez but the hangman and sexton,” said Pat
one morning; but for all his throat he would
have been the last man to wish to have seen
it carried out.

“ A lady to see me, Sir Patrick! this is a
glad surprise, and it shows that I am be-
coming popular—but hold! be she young, or
be she old, Patrick?”

“ How the divil am I afther knowing,
whin her face is all wrapped up?”

“Ah! a sufferer from toothache, maybe;
but one minute, Sir Patrick, Knight of the
Cells, and let me tell you that there is a
legend in my family that one lady is to be
avoided by me.

“ Now I cannot escape from her, so be she
the fair demon I fear me it is, one who once
was Mrs. Samuel Slick, you must stand
without to succor me, for, though I fear no
mortal man, 1 stand in holy awe of a petti-
coat.

“ Did she say that her name was Susan?”

“ That is not my name, sir, so I am not
the one you seem to dread to meet, and into
the cell stepped a vailed sister, clad in black.

“ Ah! lad , I am glad to meet you,if I am
really the ortunate man whom you have
come to see.

“ Be seated, please,” and the man was
really courtly in his manners.

“You are Mr. Slick, I believe, the pris-
oner who aided the escape of Mr. Brent-
ford?”

"‘ I am, lady.”

The sister glanced at Pat and said:

“ I was to see the prisoner, alone, my
man.”

Pat fully understood her as she slipped
into his hand a gold piece, and he went off
to see if it was counterfeit for he had be-
come strangely distrustful since he had dis-
covered a vil sin in a priest’s garb, as he
deemed the prisoner.

“ Be seated, lady.”

“ Thank you, no, for I remain but a short
while, and I am going to ask you not to
speak to any one of my coming, or rather
not betray who I am.”

“ It would be hard to do, lady, as I do not
know myself; but I certainly would keep
your secret were you to trust me with it."

She raised her veil and the prisoner fairly
started at the beautiful face revealed.

“ I am Miss Brentford, the sister of the
man you proved such a friend to.”

The prisoner bowed low and said:

“ And may I ask why Miss Brentford has
called upon me?”

“ I desire to know all that you can tell me
regarding my unfortunate brother?”

“ Say ortunate rather, Miss Brentford, as
your brother escaped the gallows.”

“ True, and he was fortunate; but I mean
he is unfortunate in the sorrows that have
come upon him:

“ I dearly love my erring brother, sir, and
capnot believe that he was guilty of delib-
erate] taking life.

“ e was cast 011' by my father, but I was
so happy to learn of his escape, and I have
come here to thank you for your noble part,
and to- see if I cannot in some way serve you.

” I also wish to know all that you can tell
me of my brother, your friend, for he must
he dear to ou, as you have sacrificed your
liberty for im.”

The man’s face flushed, and then became
pale at the words. '

His indifferent manner was gone on the
instant, and she had pierced beyond the out-
ward, - insolent exterior, though to her he
we all respect.

“ Miss Brentford," he said, and he seemed
deeply moved.

“ I am an unfortunate poor devil, and I
am gging to tell you a secret also.

“ ad the surroundings of my early life
been different; had I had such a sister as on
are. I would have been a man of a cal her
far from what I am today.

“ I had a step-mother in early life, and she
was a fiend, and after the death of my poor
hen-peeked father, my step-mother married
again, and the man was a widower with a
son and a daughter.

“ My father left me well OE, and to get
the money I was, before I was of age, forced
into a marriage with this man’s daughter,
my senior in years.

“ Then my life became such that I fled

.public in

 

from the hell I endured, leaving all to be-
lieve me dead, and my wife got my fortune.

“ I tell you this to show you why 1 went;
to the bad, for I did go. and every noble
aspiration of my early youth was blasted.

“I am to-day a creature of circumstances,
and 1 tell you frankly that I never knew
your brother until I came to this cell, dis.
guised as a priest.

“ I came here with one who sought to aid
him, but whether that one acted from friend~
ship or selfishness, I do not know.

“I believe, however, from what I saw of
him, that he had other motives in wishing to
save your brother from the gallows than to
simply keep him from an ignominious death.

“And this man, sir?” asked Estelle, who
had listened with deepest attention to the
story of the strange man.

“ 1 do not even know his name.

“ He was disguised in all his dealings with
me, and I confess it to you, Miss Brentford,
though with shame, that I acted only from a
pecuniary point of view.

“ I received ahandsome Sum, five thousand
dollars, for I don’t mind telling you, to take
your brother’s place here.

“ It is in bank, awaiting the end of m
imprisonment, and with it I shall start life-
anew.

“ Now you know all that I can tell you,
Miss Brentford.”

Estelle seemed disappointed, to feel that
the prisoner had acted for gold instead of
friendship; but she said:

“ I am sorry I can do nothing to release
you, sir, whatever your motive.”

“ N o, I_ take the consequences, and my
time of imprisonment I believe will not be
over a year, and in that time I can recuper-
ate my shattered health and have time “to
think, a thing I have not done of late ears.

“ I am satisfied, Miss Brentford, as it is.”

” And you can give me no hint as to what.
has become of my brother?”

“ I can only say that from a few words I
overheard between his real rescuer and him-
self, I believe he has gone to sea in command
of a vessel, but where bound, or on what
cruise I do not know."

“ I thank you, sir, and will bid you good-
morning, with the hope that your imprison-
ment Will be of short duration,” and Estelle
Brentford left the cell and the prison.

CHAPTER XXXIII.
THE NEWS AT noun.

CAPTAIN Henson was an early riser, and
he kept up his habit. after he became an in-
mate of Clifi Cottage.

Often Ethel was won’t to find him walk-
ing about the garden when she arose, and he
took the greatest delight in keeping all on
the place “ ship-shape ” as he expressed it.

 

He was also wont to walk into the town ,

each morning for the paper, and enjoyed an
hour after breakfast loo ing over it, while
Ethel was busy with her housekeeping.

Since her brother had left she had received
one letter from him, written from the Com-
monwealth Inn in Boston, and it gave a
modest report of his rescue of Estelle Brenta
ford, though he gave no name.

The stage-driver however made the story

alem, and was loud in the praise
of Mark Monte for his gallant rescue, while
he said that the lady he rescued was very
beautiful and an heiress. ..

This Mark’s letter to Ethel had' said noth.
ing about, but she surmised from what he
had written that he was more than happy at
harlring been able to save the life of the young

1r. .
g One morning Captain Hudson arose as
usual b sunrise, worked awhile in the gar-
den. f the chickens and then walked to
town after the mail.

Breakfast was ready when he returned,
and he had the morning paper, which Ethel
took up and glanced over.

Instantly she uttered a cry of alarm that
startled the old sailor, for she had suddenly
come upon her brother’s name.

It was the article giving an account of
Burt Brentford’s escape, and which it will
be remembered referred to Mark Monte’s
heaving gone of! with the schooner without
or ers.

She read it through to Captain Hudson

and then said:
“Oh, Uncle Hudson, what does this
mean?”

 

«3.5-me ;v .49: .

.1” _,~ 

A r 95

 

.m-w» .v .4. .

;-;;...,,.,.

'»"-Moae', the meme.

 

Hams-m...“ »,

 

The old sailor was at a loss to know, and
said so.

“Have our sorrows and precautions not
ended yet?”

“I hope it will come out all right, my
child.”

“But this is a false accusation against
Mark, for he was not going to command an
armed vessel, and besides, if it was the case,
he would not sail in her without orders.”

“ So I feel, Ethel.”

“But the owner says his vessel was cut
out, and that Mark went in command, and
it is hinted that this escaped prisoner went
on board of her and she may fly the pirate
fla .

g This is fearful, Uncle Hudson, but I am
sure it is another plot against my poor
brother!"

“ I cannot understand it, Ethel; but let us

0 at once to Boston and see what we can
nd out.”

“ I will go, uncle, while you remain here,
and please see if there is anything oing on
here that will give you a clcw, for cannot
but suspect if there istreachery against Mark
it origin med in Salem.”

“ I r' .n believe that, my child.”

“ 1 will take to-day’s stage, at noon, and
find 'his gentleman who was Mark‘s corres-
pondent, and thus learn all.

“ I will be ready at once, while you go
down and engage me a seat in the stage
and see if you can learn anything about the
town.“

T. a old sailor at once returned to the
towu and went to the stage office, and en-
gaged a seat for Ethel to Boston in the coach
that left at noon.

Then he dropped into the tavern and found
all excited there over the morning’s news,
and the general impression was that Mark
Monte hid run off with the schooner and
turned bucr' seer, for the people were deter-
mined to find him uilty of wrong doing,
owing to the secret in uences at work against
him in the to vn, and which could have been
traced to Ezra Vail and his son, if a thor-
gugh search had been made for his relentless

oes.

When he returned to the cottage Captain
Hudson told Ethel that public opinion was
against Mark, and added:

“New I thou ht, if he has secret foes
here, it was best or you not to be seen go-
in to Boston, so I engaged your seat for a
la y, giving no name, and tellin the driver

..‘

he would ick you up on the ill, so you
can wait there, and I will go with you to the
spot."

“ You did just right, Uncle Hudson, for
it is better for me to o secretly to Boston,
as I might be follow if seen to leave the
town.

“There is underhand work somewhere,
and I will find it out,” she said, firmly, and
there was a dangerous look in her eyes, such
as a stag might have when brought to bay
by a pack of hounds.

Ethel ate an early lunch, and then, with
the old sailor carrying her little sachel, made
her way to the hill-to over which the stage
passed on its way to ston.

She had not long to wait before it came in
sight, and she was glad to see that there were
few passengers.

It was nightfall when she was put down
at the Commonwealth Inn, and she was
given a pleasant room by the clerk, who was
struck with her great beauty. -

“What name shall I register, miss?” he
asked, politely. _

“ Miss—Hudson, ' she said, With an ef:
fort, suddenly deciding not to give the name
of Monte under the circumstances of her
wishin to remain unknown.

Nothing could be done that night, other
than to read all that the papers had said
about the matter.

As Ethel came out of the supper-room,
she caught sight of a familiar form.

It was Justin Laws, and she stepped
quickly into the parlor so that he should not
see her.

She knew that he was Ezra Vail‘s conti-
dential man, and that he had been absent
from Salem for some little time. and it was
something Mr. Justin Laws was not wont to
do, go away from home, as his Wife wished
him constantly under her eye.

Going to her room. Ethel rung for the
chambermaid, and giving her a piece of

 

old, asked her to find out just how long
Ir. Justin Laws had been at the inn.

Encouraged by the money the girl went off,
and soon returned with her report.

Then she added:

“ I takes care of his room, miss, and I’ll
tell, you, as you’ve been kind to me, and you
wish to know about the gentleman, that I
believes he is a play actor, or a detective, for
I have seen several disguises in his room.

“ He hides ’em, but I leaves no dust hang-
in’ round, so looks everywhere for it, so
jist found them disguises, as I said.

“And more, miss: one night when I was
on the watch, I seen an old gent come out 0’
his room, with gray hair and heard, and go
into the room of that young captain they sav
has, run off with a schooner, and whichI
don’t believe a word of, for he was that much
of a gentleman he could do no wrong.

“ He came out with the young captain,
and they went out together, and it was that
night he ran off, as the nabers says.

“ Then the old gent comes back late, and
goes into his room, and as I had gone in
while he was out, and nobody was there, he
must have been the old man in disguise,
seeing as the gray wig and beard was there
in the under drawer the next day, and which
I opens to clean out, you know, miss.”

“ Yes, I know,” replied Ethel, and she
thought that she had found a valuable ally in
thei very neat and curious Rachel, so contin-
uc :

“Well, Rachel, I thank on for what you
have told me, and I wilI, pay you well to
serve me, and for any information on can
bring me about the gentleman, Mr. aws, in
room twenty-one.”

CHAPTER XXXIV.
ETHEL's SEARCH.

THE next morning Ethel Monte arose

bri ht and early.

he seemed to be pleased with what infor-
mation she had extracted from Rachel the
chambermaid, for she murmured to herself
while dressing:

“ I believe ustin Laws is under the pa of
Ezra Vail to work harm against my brot er,
and I will sift his villainy to the ends.

“ If not, why is be here and assuming dis-
guisss, and why should Mark go out with

1m.

“ If I need advice in my attempt to hunt
out this plot a ainst Mark, for plot it is, I
know to whom I can go, for he certainly will
aid me after what has occurred.”

After breakfast Ethel rung for Rachel, and
that worthy informed her that the gentleman
in number twenty-one had gone out quite

early.

Then Ethel, deeply vailed, sallied forth to
find Mr. «Ford Burton, her brother’s corre-
spondent and employer.

A thorough search revealed the fact that
no such merchant could be found in
Boston.

This looked like a fraud and a plot upon
her brother, and she wondered what was to
be done next.

Her brother had been offered the captaincy
of a schooner in the West Indian trade, and
he had accepted it.

He had been told to come to the Common-
wealth Inn and there his employer would
jolil him, and his vessel would be ready to
set .

An old gentleman had called for Mark

Monte, and the latter had paid his score at.

the hotel and left.

This old man had given the name of Ford
Burton to the clerk. '

But Rachel the chambermaid had said that
upon the very evening of her brother’s dis-
appearance a man with gray hair and heard
had left room twenty-one, entered Mark
MoEte’s room and the two had gone out to-
get er.

In room twenty-one dwelt Justin Laws,
and the chambermaid reported that he had
disguises there of various kinds, among
them a gray beard and wig.

As Ford Burton could not be found, it was
natural for Ethel to consider him a myth,
and she was convinced that her brother had
fallen into another plot set by Ezra and
IRupert Vail through their hireling Justin

aws.

“ I will 0 and place the matter as it stands
before J u ge Brentford, and ask his advice,"

 

returned to the inn to dinner.

After a rest and a late dinner, she asked
the way to the Brentford mansion, and
reached the gate just as a lady’s hand was up-
on the latch.

“Is this the home of Judge Brentford?”
she asked.

“Yes; will you walk in, for I am Miss
Brentford,” and Estelle gazed with admira—
tion into the lovely face, now pale and
anxious.

“Thank you, yes, if I can see your
father?” and Ethel was also struck with
Estelle’s beauty.

“I regret to say my father was called to
New York on important usiness, and de-
parted for that city an hour ago on the
packet, for I just returned from seeing him
ofi ,)

She saw the look of regret that swept over
Ethel’s face, and noted the lips quiver, so
continued:

“Will you not come in and rest, for you
look tired outfm

“ I am worried, Miss Brentford, and as-
your father is not. here, I will frankly tell
you who I am, and why I come to see
him.

“ I am the sister of Mark Monte, Miss
Brentford, and—”

Ethel paused, for Estelle’s face flushed
with pleasure, and she said eagerly:

“Oh, how glad I am to meet you, Miss
Monte, for I owe my life to your brave, no-
ble brother.

“ Come into the house at once, and I in-
sist upon it that you become my guest.”

Thus urged, Ethel entered the elegant
mansion, and there was‘ that about Estelle
Brentford which caused her to feel that in
her she had a friend, so she told her just why
she had come. '

“ I came to your father, Miss Brentford,
for I knew no one else, and as he is a judge.
and must know so much of the world, I
felt that he, would be able to advise me.

“I did not wish for him to feel that be-
cause Mark had served you I had a claim
upon him; but I was sure he would advise
me for the best.”

“ And he will do so upon his return,
though I regret to say he may be absent
more than a week.

“ Still, we must see what can be done, and
I hope vou will command me in anything in
which I can be of the slightest aid,” respond—
ed ‘ Estelle,
girl as toward one whom she could dearly
ove, and anxious to serve Mark Monte's sis-
ter.

Then Ethel told her all, from their miss
fortunes beginning with the death of Captain
Roland Monte, to the trial of Mark for mu-
tiny, and the offer made him by letter from
MnfiFgrd Burton, whom she had been unable
to n . .

She also told Estelle what Rachel had said
of Justin Laws, and after knowing all the
facts Miss Brentford said:

“ It seems to me that there is a plot in all ' ,
this, as you say, where this man Laws is the , 

confidential clerk of Rupert Vail, who you
sa has tried to force you into a ma
With him.” -

lieve that Captain Malcolm Meredith can
clear himself of the charges against him, if
he is 'ven an opportunit to do so."

“I opemo sincerely, or your sake, Miss
Monte, but the piracies placed at the door of
this Ca tain Meredith of the Red Dove, I
fear wi 1 be hard to disprove.

“ Still.&our's brother’s case looked hope. ' 
1 circumstantial evidence »

less w' the
agginst him, and yet he was innocent, so we
w

l'not consider Captain Meredith also free ‘ ‘

of ilt until he is proven to be all that he is
sai to he.

“ Now you will stay with me here as my
guest, for in fact I. will not take no for an
answer.”

drawn toward the friendless.

.,

" But I have faith in the girl Rachel ob-- "

taining information for me, or I frankly say
I won
your aid and sympathy.”
‘.‘ You mean that
to see Rachel?”
(I  n

“ Well, I have a plan, and that is for you
to keep your room there, so you can go to
it each day and have a talk with her,  a

d be happy to be near you and have,

you must be at the inn.

19 "

she said, when, tired out and anxious, she»

“ I am sure there is a plot, and I also bee ,‘

 

 ‘  _ ', V V  y .1,  4,, g”, :“yLflr. .  ,, .

,.

 20

V Monte, the Matineer.

 

 

as you might again meet this man Laws, I
think it would be best for her to visit you
once each da here, or send you word.

“ So now will return with you to the
inn and you can arrange with her and. ac-
company me home, and Mr. Laws will not
see you, for should he do so he will, if

. guilt , at once grow suspicious.”

“ on are so good to me, Miss Brentford.”

“ Oh, no, for it is my pleasure to befriend
you all in my power.

“ But there is one thing that we must find
out?"

“Yes?”

5 “And that is who it is that really owns
i; this schooner that Vvas to have been sent out
,'  after Meredith, the pirate.”

I: ' “True, that will be an important item in
' our favor, but I am sure. had Mark known
that he was to have been ordered out to
. hunt down Malcolm Meredith, he would not
 have taken command of the schooner, for
 _. you know Captain Meredith saved me from
if: death.” ‘

g, 2" “Yes, and his oing on the vessel shows
#221 I to me that he was eceived, especially as she
 sailed, it seems, without orders.

3 .' , “ But we will understand the situation
better when we find out who owns the run-
away schooner.”

Thus the two young girls entered upon
their plot to discover the mystery that hung
over the escape of Burt Brentford and his
being said to have sailed upon the schooner
which Mark Monte had run off with from
her anchorage, though intended as her com-
mander by her unknown owners.

CHAPTER XXXV.

7» TWO‘FAIR PLOTTERS.

if, . RACHEL was readily pressed into service

‘ by Ethel, especially when she had thrust in-

to her hand a bank-note by Estelle Brentford,

_ who did it so slyly that her friend did not
see it.

"I wish you, Rachel. to keep your eyes
upon the movements of the gent eman in

_ . number twenty-one and know who visits

‘- : him, when he goes out and how long he re-

, mains.

“ Then, as you say he writes his letters in

,. his room. try and see if you can to whom

_ ,they are addressed, and all you can find out
. come and report to me each evening."

.“ Yes, miss; but the gent is out now, so I

" canhget you the disguises I spoke of, if you

wis ." :
“ This looks like prying into another’s
aflairs, but I suppose it would be best to see
them,” and Ethel turned to Estelle who
answered:
“ Yes, by all means, and then go and ask
,the clerk for a perfect description of the man

v- who called for your brother.”

So Rachel soon returned with various dis-
guises, and one was a pair of gold spectacles.
awhite beard and wig, and the cloak and
hat of an elderly gentleman of fashion in
that day.

_ , Then Rachel went to the parlor and asked
"to see the clerk who had sent Mr. Ford

Burton up to her brother‘s room the night he
jleft the inn.

' "I am anxious, sir, to make inquiries re-

rding Mr. Ford Burton, if on please, and
now what you can tell me 0 him."
“I only saw the gentleman twice, miss,
and that was when he called to leave a note
'for Captain Mark Monte, whom he was ex-

”gecting, he said. to take command of a vessel

7) * e owned, and again when he called in the

’ captain and the two left the inn to ether.”

. “Will you describe Mr. Ford, p ease?"
The clerk was most anxious to oblige Miss
udson and her lovely friend Miss Brent-

ord, who was known to him by sight, so

 e‘i‘gffigfijf-‘i‘ 7.; .

  

 

  

 

 

“ He was an oldish gentleman, with gray
’hair and heard, both worn long.”
“ And his dress?"
‘ " Ah, yes; he had a pair of gold spectacles
,on, and wore a clan , while he carried a
gold-headed cane.”
1" Ethel glanced at Estelle. and thanking the
lerk, the two departed together.
. .“ Well, that is the description of what
'Jti'stin Laws would be in the cloak. false
beard and wig, and wearing the gold specta-
;eles in his room,” said Ethe .
, ,“.Yes; and there is a gold-headed cane in
this room, too. Rachel said, you remember,
:while you say he never carries it at home‘l’.’

 

     

“ I never saw him with a cane in my life;
but now to find out who this strange schooner
really belonged to,” and they made their
way to the office of the commandant of the

ost.
p That officer Estelle Brentford knew well,
for he often dined with her father, so she de-
termined to send in her name.

The result was that the two young ladies
were at once admitted, and a courtly gentle-
man in uniform came forward and met them,
while he said:

“ This is an honor, Miss Estelle, which I
had not anticipated."

Estelle introduced Ethel, and replied-

“ And my coming, commodore. must be a
secret, pray remember; but my friend Miss
Monte is the sister of Captain Mark Monte,
who is said to have run off with the schooner
Blackbird.”

“ Indeed! I am glad to meet you, Miss
Monte, for your father and myself were
middies together, and it was hard for me to
believe that his son had been guilty of what
he is charged with.”

“ He is not guilty, sir, and I thank you
for your trust in him. --

"Misfortune has dogged us unstintingly
of late, and my brother Mark came to take
command of a vessel which he had the offer
of from a correspondent, who said he was
the friend of our father.

“ He said that he knew of our sorrows
and needs, and so offered him the command,
and Mark did not know more than that the
vessel was a schooner, armed by permission
of Government, as she was to cruise in the
West Indies, and that is all.

“ He was met at the inn b his employer
and left with him, and more do not know,
except that the papers imply he cut the
schooner Blackbird out and ran her to sea
ass pirate.”

“And who was this shipping merchant,
Miss Monte, for by finding him you can as-
certain all regarding our irother?"

” He si ned himse f as Ford Burton, sir,
but I can earn of no one who has ever heard
of him.”

The commodore called a clerk, wrote a
line on a slip of paper and sent him off with

t.

Soon he returned with the report:

“ There is no such person in the city, sir.”

“This is strange indeed: are you sure that
is the name, Miss Monte?"

” I am. sir: but can you tell me who own-
ed the schooner that had been given a Gov-
ernment permit to go armed?”

“But one craft has been given such per-
mit from this port, Miss Monte, and that is
the schooner Blackbird."

“ And to whom does she belong, sir?"

“Her owners wished the matter of own-
ership kept a secret.”

“Ab! and you cannot tell me?”

“ it has been said that your sex cannot
keep a secret. Miss Monte,” answered the
commodore with asmile, “ but as this one has
already leaked out I do not see the harm in
letting you know.”

” Permit me to guess, sir, and if I name
the owners, you need make no reply, so that
will clear you of havin told me.’

“ Thank van, and w 0 would on guess?"

“Vail & Company, Whalers, 0 Salem.”

The commodore smiled but made no re-‘
ply, and then Ethel asked:

3‘ Will the Blackbird be pursued, sir?”

“ Two vesselsof—war are already in chase
of her."

“ Pardon me, but it is supposed that she
has turned pirate?” ‘

“ Yes, that is the belief of all, I learn."

“ And Mr. Burt Brentford is supposed to
have one on her?"

“ es, that is the surmise, though upon
very slight grounds, other than that the
Blackbird was cut out from her anchorage
the night of Mr. Brentford’s escape and per-
mit me, Miss Estelle, to congratulate you
upon your brother’s escape, for I know it
must be a source of joy to you, and to your
father as well " ~

“It is, sir, and father is a different man
since. for it was hard, indeed, for his hand
to sign‘ the sentence that sent his son to the
gallows.

“But I thank you also. commodore, for
having been so kind to my friend here; but

 

   

remember, our coming is a secret, you know,
though I shall some day tell father.”

 

 

   

“ I shall not forget it. Miss Estelle. and I
am more than happy to have served Miss
Monte, as you say, though I do not recall in
what way I have done so."

“More than I can tell you," was Ethel’s
low reply, as the old oflicer escorted his fair
visitors to the door.

“ Well, you are right, Ethel, for Vail 65
Company were the recent employers of your
brother, through their agent, Laws, who
disguised himself to play the part success-
fully.”

“ Yes, and I do not believe that the schoon-
er Was cut out without the knowledge of Vail
& Company.

“ It is some deep plot of deviltry they are
playing against poor Mark ” and the tears
came into the beautiful eyes of Ethel, while
Estelle Brentford replied earnestly:

“ Well, let them plot, while we counter-
plot. and as we know them as they are, we
hold the advantage, and will yet bring them
to earth.”

“But what will become of poor Mark, for
I fear that he is in desperate danger, if not
already—”

She paused, and Estelle cried anxiously:

“ 1X30 you fear they have killed him?”

H es"?

 

CHAPTER XXXVI.
A PLOT AGAINST HIM.

“ RACHEL is here to see you. Ethel,” and
Estelle came into the library, followed
by the chambermaid of the Commonwealth
Inn.

“ Is there any news?" eagerly asked Ethel,
and Rachel said:

“ A letter, miss, which was sent up to your
room this afternoon, and which I took charge
of.

“ Here it is, miss, and I have to say that
the old play actor is going awa tomorrow
by the stage, for I heard him te l the orter
to engage him a fare in the coach for alem,
that leaves in the afternoon."

“ Thank you, Rachel, and I will be at the
inn in the morning.”

Rachel then left, and Ethel looked at her
letter.

She did not recognize the writin , but, as
it was addressed to "Miss Hudson, ommon-
wealth Inn, Boston,” she felt ihat it could
only be from the old captain as she had
written him after her arrival telling him the
name she had given.

Breaking the seal she read with some little
trouble the captain’s wonderful specimen of
penmanship.

It was as follows:

“ Cun- Co'ruon, Sam.

“ Thursday.
“ Mr Dun Camp:—

“ I write you a line to say that the house, pleasant
as it is, seems like a graveyard without you.

“ There is no news here, and I h on have
found some clew in Boston of the poor y 3 rate.

" Rumor has it here that Mark has really turned
pirate. and a skipper came in to-dav and reported

aving been brought to b the Blackbird, and asked
about the selling of certa n vessels.
M” 31d he said that he saw on the cratt’s deck Mark

on .

“ I asked him if he was sure. and he said he would
swear to it. and more, he said he was from Boston
and knew the youn aristocrat, Burt Brentford, who
was tried for mur er and escaped the gallows, and
that he saw him there also.

“ I trive you this for what it is worth, for it may be
founded on the pat-Ber stories that were published.

" He also said ere was a large crew on board.
but after asking him about the selling of certain
English vessels out of Boston, and getting some
papers from him. they let him go on is way with-
ou harm, and he had a valuable a too.

‘ Now, this don't look like piracy, oes it?

“ All gows well at home, as it can go without you:
but I‘m hopggg for you to « ome back soon and I
trust with news of our noble boy, to ve the
lie to all 0 the stories afloat a at h m, and
which people seem anxious to m e as wicked as
pomible.

u I an
“ Your adopted uncle,
“ Joan Hanson.
“P S.—'l‘wo vessels .came into port esterda
which had been robbed by Malcolm Mer ith, the
skippers reported, so there is a b scare in town
about the Red Dove Buccaneer as t y call him. '
Estelle Brentford had shuddered at the
name of her brother, and said: . .
“ Ethel, how strangely we are allied in
this aflair, for both of our brothers are hand.
ed as pirates, and both are on the same
vessel.
" But on cannot believe that your bro-
ther is guilty of crime?”
“ Never! not until he tells .me so with his
own lips will I believe it of him." I
” And I have the same trust in him, slight

 

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as I know him; but your words strengthen
my confidence in pobr brother Burt, for he
to (1 me he would escape, and more, he said
I would one day not be ashamed of him.

“ So, I believe him, Ethel, though it is
true he has the black shadow of killing that
oflicer hanging over him.”

“Do not lose confidence. in him, Estelle,
for all may yet be proven to have been false
char es against him.”

“ nd this Captain Meredith?”

“ I still have the same trust in him.”

“ ggainst all reports of his piracies?”

“ 'es."

“ You do indeed give me strength and
hope; but it seems that this man Laws is to
return home.”

“ Yes, and I shall go too, and in the same
stage, for deeply vailed he will never know
me.”

“ I shall hate to ive on u .”

“ Estelle?” g y D
V “Yes.”

“ Your father‘s letter received this morn-''

ing said he was to be absent yet ten days, did
it not ?”

“ It did, so I will be terribly lonely.”

“ Would he care if you ran away for a few
days on a visit?”

“ Where?"

“ Go home with me.”

“ Oh, Ethel, dare I do so?”

“ You know best whether it would be
right for you to leave."

“Oh, father gives me my way of course,
for he knows I would do no wrong.”

“ Well, leave a note here for him telling
him where you have gone, and go with me,
for I would deeply love to have you, and if
needed your carriage could come after on."

“ I believe I will go. Ethel,” and stelle
was indeed anxious to 0.

She wished to see the ome of Mark Monte,
whom she felt that she was becoming more
and more attached to each day, in spite of
the clouds that were hangiiligg over him.

She had learned to love thel as dearly as
a sister, and the two were congenial in every
respect.

She also hated to see Ethel return alone,
and as her father had written that he would
yet be absent for ten days, and perhaps two
weeks longer, she thought she might go,
leaving the home in char 6 of the faithful
old servants, and simply etting it be known
that she had gone to the country on a visit.

Of course, if Estelle felt that she ought not
to go, Ethel did not wish her to do so; but
she knew that her friend would do as she
deemed best.

So she said:

“ I would so love to have you go,
ant:x yet I wish you to do just as yo
ri t.

g“ We could get seats in the same coach
with Justin Laws, and go heavily vailed, so
we can never be recognized.

“ Then, too, we might get him to commit
himself by a little deception on our part,
which in a good cause would not be wrong,
I am sure.”

“ Ethel, this decides me, and I will go, for
we must play apart to learn from this man
all that we can, and with our woman's wit,
unknown to him, being conversant of the
game he has been playing, it will bestrange if
we do not entrap him.”

“ Suppose I disguise myself in some way,
so as to throw him wholly'ofi his guard?"

“ The very thing, and I will do the same,"
and the maidens seemed delighted with their
little plot of adventure.

CHAPTER XXXVII.
FELLOW PASSENGEBS.

MR. JUSTIN Laws was a punctual man,
and so he was considerably surprised when
he camedown from his room, ready to take
his seat in the coach for Salem, to see it roll-
ing away from the stables.

“It Will return, sir, for it’s only gone to
pick u some fares at a house up-town,” ex-
plaine the Porter. ‘0 the intense satisfaction
of Mr. LaWS. Who made it a rule never to
be late when starting on a journey, and had
feared that he had done so.

In fifteen minutes the coach returned, and
Mr. Laws entered.

He was provoked to think that he had not
secured a back seat. for it was occupied by
two passengers.

As there was no one else to go, the coach

stelle,
deem

 

  
 

Us y... era, cg",  ‘, ‘

7 'Monte, the Mutin‘eer.

rolled away, and after it had left the town,
Justin Laws took a look at his fellow-pas-
sengers.

He saw a handsome middy in a new uni.
form. and by his side an elderly lady who
could not be his mother, for she was the pic-
ture of an old maid, with her false curls,
spectacles and prim dress.

“Your servant, miss, and how d’ye do,
young master?

“We are traveling the same way, so may
as well get acquainted.

“I am Justin Laws, Esquire, confidential
clerk of the rich house of Ezra Vail & Co.,
of Salem.

“ Do you go so far?”

“ Oh, yes, mister, we travels on when the
coach stops—interdooce me, J immie.”

Thus appealed to, “ Jimmie,” who was the
middy, said:

“This is my aunt, Miss Sallie Quiz, Miso
ter Laws.”

“Jimmie are right, for I be Sarah Quiz,
from Portsmouth, and this be my nephew,
Jimmie Hudson, a midshipman in the navy,
and a likely lad, as you see.

“ Be you stopping in Salem, Mr. Laws?
For now we is interdooced I s’pose we can
talk without impropriety. though I has been
most particular all mylife.”

“Yes, auntie, you have been so particu-
lar you never got a husband to suit you,”
put in Jimmie, with a smile.

“ Yes, I stop off 1n Salem, for my home is

there," ventured Mr. Laws, wondering if he-

had not made a mistake in setting the tongue
of the old maid to going.

“ Be you married?”

Mr. Laws remembered with regret that he
was very much married, and to a lady who,
having buried two husbands, seemed tobe
trying to do as much for him.

So he replied:

“ Yes, ma’m, I‘m a married man.”

“ Any children?"

“ No, ma’m.” ~

“What a pity, for children soften one’s
heart so ”

" How do you know, auntie?” asked
Jimmie.

The old maid gave Jimmie a savage look,
and1 returned to the attack on Justin Laws
wit 1:

“Be you well ac uainted in Salem?”

“ Oh, yes, ma’m, know everybody worth
the knowing.” .

“ Maybe you know’d the Widder Swett?"

Justin Laws started. ‘

He had married the Widow Swett, and he

,said emphatically:

“ Oh, yes, I knbw her—she is now Mrs.
Laws.” '

“Lor’l do tell!”

“ Do you know her? v r

“ I can’t sav as I do, but I have heard of
her; but hain’t you all pretty scared up jist
now about them Salem pirates that is sailing
in the seas?”

“ We are slightly disturbed then, ma’m,
and very much put out that one of our own
tOWnsmen should have turned pirate."

“ I Want to know: and who may he be?”

“A oung man by the name of Monte—
Mark onte.”

“Seems to me I heerd he were tried for
murder?”

“ He was tried for mutiny and murder on

H \

the seas, and was cleared; but I guess now .

that folks will believe that Captain Vail and
myself were not mistaken in believing he
had been leadin a lawless life at sea."

" You say he as turned pirate now?” ask-
ed Jimmie with all a youth’s delight in hear-
ing of 'lawless peo lea

"Yes, be con] have gotten command of
an honest craft, for we—’

“ We, who?” ventured the middy.

" Wyself and Captain Vail.

“ e wanted to help him, on his own ac-
count and for the sake of his sister, who is a
beautiful girl, and to whom Mr. Rupert Vail
is very much attached—there, I fear Ihave
said too much: but it is known to all.”

“I would like to know about it, Mister
Laws. for I do love gossip,” put in Miss
Quiz ea erly.

“ We] , we decided to help him, and place
him in command of a vessel in which he
could hunt down that terrible pirate, the Red
Dove Buccaneer. .

“But we knew,” and Justin Laws always
dwelt on the we—“ that if he knew who were

 

. 1.,”

 

_ child!”

 

. - -. -.....mw~umw-m.. .a. IuwwmfinxlfifithU-nr'-‘mgég_a‘4‘ .

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21

his friends he would not accept mine, and so
we arranged it to have him go to Boston and
take command without knowing us in the
matter.

“ He went, and being already decided to
turn pirate, he cut out the vessel, rescued that
murderer, Burt Brentford from the jail and
making him his lieutenant, set sail and is
now cruising the seas as a buccaneer.’

“This is terrible,” cried Miss Quiz in a
tone of horror.

“ I only wish I could catch him," Jimmie
remarked with vigor.

“ I only wish you could, my lad: but you
may get a chance some day, as you are a
sailor.”

“But will not the Whaler merchant you
spoke of send another vessel after his schoon-
er?" asked the Middy,

“Two cruisers have gone, but I doubt if
the pirate stays in these parts.”

Other conversation was carried on, for not;
only did the old maid and middy seem in a
talkative mood, but Justin Laws was decid-
edly so, and he was anxious to make the two
traveling with him feel his importance.

It was some time after nightfall when the
stage rolled up to the Salem Inn, and as it
was to go on after a short stop. Justin Laws
bade his fellow-passengers farewell and
walked rapidly away.

Hardly had he done so when the middy
and his aunt also slipped out of the coach,
having declined having supper at the inn,
and they too hastened away.

After a short walk they saw a form ahead
of them and the middy remarked:

” Yes. he is, as I thought, on his way to
Hillside Hall, the home of the Vails, to re—
port his villainy to his masters.”

“ 1 only wish we could play eavesdrop-
pers." '

“ But we cannot, and we must hasten
home, for I am not half so brave as I look,
in the streets at this time of night.

“Come, Aunt Quiz, take my arm,” and
the middy led the way at a quick pace to~1
ward the harbor road.

This they followed for some distance until
a light came in si ht in a cottage window.

4

“Here is my rumble home, Estelle, and 

you are most welcome.
“ Now to give Uncle Hudson a surprise.”

A knock at the door brought Captain Hud- 

son to it, and he started at sight of his visi-
tors, when the middy said:

" Come, uncle, give me awelcome, even if ,

I am in a uniform. and let me introduce my
friend. Miss Brentford.”

“ Simoons and earthquakes! but you are
Ethel!

“ Why you nearly took the wind out of
my sails and laid me all aback, m child,”
and the old sailor grasped the ban of éach
maiden and drew them into the room.

Then they hastened to -Ethel’s cozy room: _‘,

and soon returned as their proper selves, and

Uncle Hudson, who had told the old cook to 
have a substantial supper ready for them, 4 m

heard the story of their adventure. . .
” That scamp Laws is but a tool, servin
his master for gold, for Ezra Vail is the he ,

of the villainy, with 'his son Rupert an abl
and willing all ,” said Ca tain Hudson, at
he led the wa into the litt e dining-room.

In spite of er grand surroundings at her
own home, Estelle was charmed with the.
pretty cottage and its neat and comfortable?
furnishings, and she could not but admit
that there was an air of refinement and luxury"
about it that was most charming. , 

She had heard the stor of the old captain;
and was delighted wit his quaint, frank’
way. and looked upon him as one to bedfef
pended upon. 

Until a late hour the three talked over 111
that had occurred, and tried to plan for th ’
future to force Ezra Vail to the wall. .

At last. without coming to any conclusio

as to what was‘best to be done. the are girls; gs
arose to return when the old sailo said: t. 

“I forgot to tell you, Ethel, that Mere.
dith was off the port this morning, and re
bed a Whaler bound in, and in full sight 0
the shore.”

asked Et el.

“ I did. and with niy lass.”

“ What did you make er out?" 3
. “ The craft that Malcolm Meredith is c’gpt
tain .of, or her very counterpart,‘

'4 .

“Did 'ou see the vessel, uncle?” quickly If

' "l

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.1

 
   

  

 

22

-.—

“ You saw her well?”

“ So well that I could see her officers to
recognize them.”

“Well, uncle?” '

“ It pains me to tell you that I saw Cap-
tain Meredith in self on his brig’s deck, so
there can be no oubt but that he is unwor-
thy of you, Ethel, for at last I doubt him,
having seen with my own eyes his robbery of
the Whaler.”

Estelle looked at Ethel with a look of
deepest sympathy, but while the brave girl
paled at the words of the old sailor, she said
firmly:

“ Still I doubt, uncle, not your word, but
that Malcolm Meredith is the pirate all say
that he is."

As she uttered the words, there came a gen-
tle tap upon the door that caused all to start,
for itwas nearly midnight.

 

CHAPTER XXXVIII.
THE MIDNIGHT MESSENGER.

WHEN the tap came at the door, Ethel was
naturally more startled than were Estelle and
Captain Hudson.

be poor girl remembered how one night
she had been sitting there with her brother,
and he had been dragged away to prison, and
somehow it came to her that more harm was
to come.

The old sailor went to" the door and open-

e it.

The light from within flashed upon a tall
form without, and both of the maidens heard
the name break from the lips of the old
sailor:

“ Captain Meredith /"

“Silence!” came the stern rejoinder, fol;
lowed by the distinctly spoken words:

"I am here but for an Instant.

“ Say to Miss Monte that her brother sends
her his greetings and begs that she will not
doubt him against all proofs of guilt that
may be brought against him.”

The deep voice ceased speaking and the
old sailor would have spoken, when a gust
of wind blew out the light and all was dark-
ness.

Instantly Estelle sprung to the door, but
no one was there.

He had glided away in the darkness.

“ It seemed almost like an apparition,”
said Ethel, her face very pale, as she relight-
‘ed the lamp.

Estelle was silent, but impressed, and the
old seaman looked a trifle nervous.

It had all been so sudden.

“Will you go with me to see if his vessel
is in port?” cried Ethel, turning to the old
sailor.

“ Yes, I will go, but you remain here, my
child.”

“ No, I o with you.”

. v ” And I accompany you, Ethel," said
Estelle.

Wraps were hastily thrown on, and the
three set forth in the darkness.

They reached a jutting point of high land,

a I and instantly came the words from Captain

Hudson:

“ Look there!”

Coming out of the harbor under full sail
\",1vas a beautiful brig, and she was fairly fly-
; '\'in toward the sea.

‘ ‘ There could be no doubt of it, for she was
the Red Dove, for that vessel once seen was

:9.” not to be for otten.

' She had ringly entered the port and
“ ‘ sailed up to the town, and astern resounded
 shouts and the report of firearms.
 “There has been mischief going on there,”
‘9 .said the old captain.
'-*‘i “It is the Sea Dove," cried Ethel.
. “ Yes, or the Red Dove, for there can be
- but one such vessel afloat.”
" What can it mean ?” asked Estelle.
“ Heaven onl knows! but that was surely
‘ galcolm Mere ith who came to the cottage
oor. '0
, ' ' " Could you not be mistaken, Ethel?"
staked Estelle.
“ No more in the man than in his vessel.
1, g " It was Captain Malcolm Meredith,”
solemnly said John Hudson.
‘ “ I saw his face for an instant, and heard

 his yoice—there was no mistake,” Ethel sad-1

1y re ined.
.I- f‘ at his words were hopeful.”

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Monte, the Mutineer.

‘fie; .1, .E_;L. ‘. ,, tun I
. '. . . I

 

“Yes, for he said as much; but hear the
noise in the town.

“Can he have been up to some mischief
there?” asked Estelle Brentford.

“ It would seem so—ha! there is a cruiser
in port, for there goes her gun!" and as the
old sailor spoke, the red flash and deep boom
of a heavy gun were heard, while the solid

'shot went shrieking along past the point, and

after the brig, just there beyond where
the three stood, and not a cable’s length
away.

As though in defiance of the cruiser, and
wishing to aid the aim of her unners, a
“ blue light ” was suddenly burne upon the
brig. and the beautiful craft was revealed in
a light as bright as noonday.

She was the very center of an arc of fire it
seemed, and her rigging in all its delicate and
graceful tracery was distinctly visible.

There stood her men at her guns, which
were run out for action, and all about her
decks was in perfect trim.

Her ofiicers were at their posts, and two
men held the wheel, while under a cloud of
canvas the beautiful craft was dashing along
at awonderful speed.

Upon the quarter-deck, in full uniform,
and with a glass in hand, stood the rulingr
spirit of the craft, and so distinctly was he
revealed that Ethel uttered a startled cry,
while the old sailor said sadly:

“ Alas, my child, we can no longer

' doubt!”

“I do not doubt, for I recognize on yon-
der deck Malcolm Meredith; but I do doubt
his being a pirate,” said Ethel.

“ You are a brave girl, and true as steel,
Ethel. and I onl hope your beautiful trust
will be rewarded:
~ “ But that is the officer I caught a glance
of at the cottage door half an hour ago, and
he surely has been in some mischief up in the
town; but 1 glory in your trust in one you
love,” and Ethel turned her gaze once more
upon the brig, just as the blue light faded out
and all was darkness.

But it was again illumined by a red glare,
and the booming of the cruiser’s guns came
fast and loud.

“The cruiser is in chase,” almost shouted
the old sailor, as he could see a fine vessel-
of—war coming along along at a slappin
pace, crowding on sail as she did so, an
also keeping up a rapid fire from her how
guns. 1

“ Oh, she will sink the brig, for she is so
large and terrible looking!” cried Ethel.

“ She is also very fast; but I knew not
that there was a cruiser in port, so she must
have come in after nightfall, and the brig
run in upon her before she knew of her
presence,” said John Hudson.

But if those on the point feared for the
brig, her commander seemed to have no such
dread, as he again burned a blue light, as
though to show his large enemy just where
he was.

The guns, of the sloop-of-war were now
firing rapidly, and it could be seen by the
three watchers on the (point, told on the brig.

Still her crew stoo calmly at their guns,
returnin no fire, while her commander was
pacing h s quarter-deck seemingly with utter
indiflerence to all danger.

“ That sloop sails like the wind,” said Cap-
tain Hudson, as she swept by the point, cov-
ered now from deck to trucks with white
wings to aid her flight.

“ But the brig ga ns,” added Ethel, whose
eyes were upon the leading vessel.

“ You are ri ht, my child, and that man
knows what his beautiful vessel can do, so
has no fear.

“ But it was Malcolm Meredith.”

"Of that there is no doubt, Uncle Hud-
son.”

“And what can he have been up to?"

” He came to deliver a messa e to me from
brother Mark, was discovere and had to

“ Why did he run up to the town, my
child?”

“ Perhaps to see Wanda the Witch, for he
visited her when here before."
, Seein that Ethel would not be convinced
that Ms colm Meredith was guilty, as some
charged him with being, the old sailor said
no more, and after watc ing the chase far out
to sea, the three turned their steps to the cot-

 

“ Uncle, I see that you doubt Captain
Meredith, and Estelle, I fear you also do; but
I ask you both to trust him until he is proven
guiltg.”

“ gad, child, I’ll do it,” said John Hud-
son, while Estelle replied:

“Ethel, your beautiful trust inspires me
with the same confidence in the man that you
feel against all seeming proofs of his being a
pirate."

“ I thank you both; but it is two o’clock
so let us retire," said Ethel wearily, for in
her own heart there was just the shadow of
a doubt that her lover could never prove his
innocence, though she would not admit it '
even to herself. ,

CHAPTER XXXIX.
WORK WELL DONE.

WHEN Justin Laws left the stage, and the
two persons whom he believed to be what
they represented themselves, he walked rap-
idly along in the direction of the elegant
home of Ezra Vail.

He knew that he would find the old mer-
chant in his library, and after a long ride, a
glass of fine brandy and a fragrant cigar,
after a “snack,” would be very acceptable.

These he a as sure to get be well knew.

The door was opened by the stately butler,
and the confidential clerk was ushered at
once into the library.

“ Why, Laws, you are as welcome as the
flowers of spring,” cried Ezra Vail, and he
added:

“ When did you arrive?”

“ I came from the stage-coach here, sir.”

“ Then you are hungry, so shall have sup-
per,” and iving the necessary orders, the
merchant t ion told the butler to send Master
Rupert to the librar .

After his supper ustin Laws felt refresh-
ed, especially as he had had several glasses
of brandy.

Then the butler was dismissed for the
night, Rupert Vail came into the library,
and greeting the confidential clerk, the three
sat down for a talk.

“Well, Laws, you are a trump,” said the
elder merchant.

Justin Laws was pleased, for the praise
coincided with his own very excellent opin-
ion of himself.

But he said modestly:

“ I hope I did my duty, Captain Vail."

“ Fully, sir, and I wish you to run over
the facts for us.”

“ Well, sir, I bought the schooner Black-
bird, as you know, and in your name, though
secretly as you requested.

“ I got her a fine crew through tavern-
keepers, and she was in perfect trim.

“ 1 took to disguises in all I did, takin
one part and then another, and doing what
must sa was clever secret service work."
you rescued the prisoner, Brent-

“ Oh, es, as I wrote you.”

“ 0n t e terms I demanded?”

“Yes, sir, that he should take command
of the vessel when at sea, and make Mark
Monte a prisoner.”

“I see, that was perfectly right, but Monte
suspected nothin i” ,

“ Oh; no, sir, or I had my disguises in
my room, put on that of a respectable old
gentleman, with gray wig, beard and s ecta-
else and went m se i to the hotel an, left
word that Mr. ord Burton would call for
Captain Mark Monte. when he arrived.

" I did so, after all was arran ed, and he
believed me to be the dear frien of his late
father.

“ So I got him on board the schooner
without trouble.”

“ And the real captain?”

“ He was already there." ‘

“ But what a clever escape you planned;
but who was the priest 7”

“ I was the first one, air, and then, pre~
tending to go away, I got the man I hired to
plan the part.”

“ Why, Laws, you are a clever scamp in-
deed.”

“ I have not half appreciated on; but this
man Slick seemed to be a shrew one.”-

“ He is, sir, and takes the situation like a
man.”

“ And what of this fellow Brentford?”

“ Captain Vail, he is as much of a man as
one generally meets with, and I was delight.
ed With him.” .

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. 23

 

 

“ And he should be with you, for you!
saved his neck.”

“Not I, sir, but you, for I was but the
humble instrument to carry out your plot.”

“ And you carried it out boldly and well,
Mr. Laws,” put in Rupert Vail, and this
praise from the junior member of the firm of
Vail & Co. made Justin Laws blush like a
school-girl.

“ So the ship sailed without a hitch?”

“ Yes, sir; and she is the craft to do good
work, under the captain you have selected
for her.”

“ I felt that if I saved a man from the gal-
lows, gave him a well-armed, fleet craft, and
only asked slight favors in return, he would
be the one to serve me well.”

“Yes, sir; and he will do so, I feel as-
sured.”

“But he understands all about Mark
Monte?"

"I gave him your sealed instructions, sir."

“ And he is to obey them to the letter?"

“ I see no reason why he should do other-

se." ‘

“Well, Laws, you are sure no suspicion
fell upon you?”

“ Not an atom, sir, though it had to come
out that you were secretly the owner of the
schooner Blackbird, which was supposed to
have been run off with; but then it seemed
natural that you should wish to strike back
at the Nemesis who has done you such
harm.”

“ True, true, and I am glad it is looked
upon that way."

“And I explained that 'ou were secretly
anxious to serve Mark ll onte, whom you
were much pleased with, and regretted hav-
ing had tried the charges that were not
proven, so had had another offer him the
command of the schooner, and he had
wronged you by cutting her out and making
a pirate of her.”

“Better and better, Laws; but accept a
bed here to-ni ht, for it is late."

“No, than you, sir, for I wrote Mrs.
Laws I would return, so must go.”

“I understand. She is one who must be
obeyed.

“ But fill up a good-nightcup.”

This Justin Laws, already half-seas-over,
did, and then he wended his way to his own
snug little home.

The widow he had married had been a
boarding-house landlady, and there were
some who said she had wedded Justin
Laws mlens 00km as far as he was con-
cerned.

From the day she became Mrs. Laws, she
was boss, and she made it very lively for
him, for in fact, he was a sadly hen-peeked
man. .
She had watched the time when the stage
was due, and as he came not she began to
turn sour.

As two hours passed away, she managed
to et into a humor that would bring terror
to t e heart of cor Laws.

Fortunately or him, he had “ braced up ”
with sundry glasses of brandy, elated by his
success. and as his employer had handed
him a very neat little check for his services,
he was in a mood to feel his own impor-
tance.

Could she believe her ears, thought Mrs.
Laws, when she heard a voice singing, and
recognized it as her husband’s?

How dare he sing, and at that hour of the
ni ht? ,

Yorgettin what all the neighbors thought
of her, she gun to fear what they would
think of him, and she met him at the hall-
door. -

J ug’n Laws was drunk, there was no de-
nying that fact. and he greeted his wife With
a war-wnoop, a double shume, and tried to
embrace her with intoxicated afiection.

“ Justin Lawsl how dare you ‘2”

“ Hooray! I’m back in, Widder!”

He always Called her “ idder” when he
was in a very good humor.

“ Justin Laws. you are a fool!"

“ Not such a fool as you think, my dear;
come, I‘m a trump. for Lthe boss says so.
Come, welcome with a kiss your lord and
master.”

Her 1‘ lord and master!"
This was too much for Mrs. Laws to

stand.

   

 

The worm‘ was evidently beginning to turn

against the iron heel-

iha 1-,, u “

She must stamp out at once this germ of
independence.

And she did, for Justin Laws felt himself
seized by bony fingers, and he was yanked
about in amanner that made every bone in
his body rattle.

How it would have ended who can tell;
but suddenly the boom of a heavy un shook
the house, and then came anot er, with
shouts and yells in the town, and the ringing
of the alarm bell on the jail.

It was just on the verge of the breaking
out of the war with England, and British
vessels were becoming as great terrors as
pirates, so Mrs. Laws cried in wild fright:

“ Go and defend your country, Justin
Laws, for the Britishers have captured the
town.”

But Justin Laws oblivious to the call of
patriotism lay upon the floor where his spouse
had thrown him, snoring loudly.

CHAPTER XL.
THF RED DOVE FLAG.

CAPTAIN EZRA VAII. was just “turnin
in ” for the night, satisfied With his wicke
work, as carried out so successfully by his
hireling Justin Laws. when he was startled
by the thunder of heavy guns.

He and his son had chatted awhile after
Laws's departure, and then, with another
“ night-cap ” had separated to go to their re-
spective rooms.

Rupert heard the guns as he was droppin
off to sleep, and he sprung to his feet an
hastily dressed. "

He was soon in his father’s rooms, and the
servants were running about, also aroused by
the firing.

Wild shouts came from the town, and the
coachman was told to hastily get the carriage
around to the front door.

“ What does it mean, father?” cried
Rupert.

“ Some En lish vessel has doubtless an-
ticipated the eclaration of war and run in
and attacked the town,” was the answer.

“It may be a pirate, for no British com-
mander would dare strike a blow until war
was declared.”

“ He may have later news than we have,
my son."

“ I ‘ still think it must be a buccaneer
caught robbing, and has fired on the towns-

eoplc; but here is the carriage."and Rupert
ed the way to the piazza as the carriage
wheels were heard in the gravel drive before
the door. ‘

As the father and son reached the carriage
a man dashed up breathless from running.

“ Captain Vail, the Red Dove has been in
port and the whaler’s Nempsis has robbed
your ofiiee," cried the man.

Ca tain Vail uttered a groan. and no won-
der, or he had twenty thousand dollars in his
iron box at the oflice.

Springin into the carriage he bade the
coachman rive with all haste down into the
town.

Rupert followed him, the door went to
with a bang, and the man who had brought
the startling news sprung up behind.

Away dashed the vehicle, and it was in
ten minutes at the ofiice door of Vail & Com-

pan .

Ayconstable stood there, lantern in hand,
and a huge crowd had gathered, many of
them armed, and scores carrying lanterns, so
that the scene was a picturesque one. while
the boomingof the heavy uns of the cruiser,
as she flew seaward, ec oed' through the
town.

But neither father nor son saw the pic
turesqueness of the scene, and at once en-
teredhtheir oflice followed bya wild mocking
au .

“g It is Wanda, the Witch, sir, and she' has
been sa ing bitter things ag’in' yer,"said the
constab e.

“Curse her! but what has happened, Con-
stable Carr?"

“Well, sir, I came on at midnight, and I
seen up the harbor an armed brig, which
Tatum, whom I believed, said came in a
short while before.

“ As I come along the shore I seen a bi
sloop-of—war also at anchor, but Tatum ha
spoke of her, and it set me to wondering.

“ Then I strolls up this street, and just as
I come insight of your office, I seen a light ‘
there. and a number of men. ‘

“ I at once gave the alarm, scythe light

   

 

i

not appreciate such kindness.

was put out, and the relief watch heard it as
they were going to turn in and came on the
run.

“ I heard a voice say:

“ ‘ To the boats, men, for the work is
done!

“ ‘ But, remember, no firing of arms ex-
cept in self-defense.’

“Then I knowed as how something was
going wrong, and as a party of men left your
office door, carrying something on cars that
Looked like a body, 1 called out to them to

a t.

“But they walked on and I called out
again, and, as no notice was taken of me, I
fired into the crowd.

“ One man fell, and yet they moved on,
carrying him with them, and as the relief
then came up, with several citizens, we ran
upon them. .

“ But they beat us back, though they did
not fire a shot only, used their oars.

“ The reached their boat, sprung in, and
headed or the brig I had seen further up the
harbor.

“At the same time. I seen it coming down
under full sail, and it picked them up, just
as I hailed the sloop-of-war. .

“An officer replied, and I told him the
brig was the pirate, Meredith, of the Red
Dove, and that he had been robbing the
town.

“Then the drum beat to quarters on the
sloop, and the sails were set, and the anchor
gotten up in mighty quick time, while she
started in chase.’ -

“ Why did she not give the accursed
priralte a broadside?" savagely said Captain

ai .

“ Because, sir, the pirate ran in between
her and the town, and she dared not do So;
but soon as she got her bow pointed seaward
she opened hot and heavy, as you heard. and
the daring buccaneer set a blue light to show
him 'ust where he was.”

“ he infamous outlaw! Butwillthesloop
not catch him?”

“That remains to be told; sir, when the
sloop comes back.”

“ What sloop was it?”

“Don’t know, sir, but she came in after
dark, and not far astern of the brig, I
guess.”

“ You have done well, constable; but now .
bring your lantern, and let us see what that '
infernal buccaneer has done.

“You are sure it was the Red Dove?”

“ Oh, yes, sir, for I recognized Captain
Meredith myself, for they had lanterns. and '
when the blue light was burned. folks along
the shore as came in said they saw a blue
flag at the peak, with a blood-red dor’e in
the center, and gold spread wings in the cor-
ner.”

“That is his flag, so there can be no
doubt. ‘

“ Nowto see what deviltry he has been up

n

This was very readily discovered. for the
iron box in Ezra Vail‘s private oflice. con-
taining twenty thousand dollars in money,
and some valuable papers, had been taken.

“Look here, father!" =

Rupert pointed, as he spoke, to a minia- »
ture flag that lay uponthe'desk of the mer-_ ,
chant. ., “1

It was a blue silk flag, with a red dove
worked in the center, and gold wings in the
four corners: \

To it was attached a card, upon which was
written in a bold hand:

“Captain Malcolm Meredith, the whalers’ Neme-
sis, an commander cf the brl . Red Dove, presents
his compliments to Captain Ears Vail. and begs to
leave his card as a token of his visit, and which he ‘
promises shall by no means be the Inst!" J

" My God! I have been robbed of .an
enormous sum. ’
“ Rupert!

“Yes, father!" ‘ ' _
“I shall at once put a craft out to hunt
gown this pirate, and you shall command
er.” ~ ’
“ You are very kind, father.” was the ‘

ply, but the words and tone of the you
man seemed to indicate that at least he "
Then the two left the oflice, locked“-
door, which the irates had 0 nod with “
skeleton key, and rove to the ease of I"
trauma. . ’  

’ When that worthy discovered his. u

  

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and his son standing over him, he became
instantly sober, and was told to come to the
captain's house early in the morning, as
there was more work for him to do.

CHAPTER XLI._
THE TELL-TALE WRITING.

WHEN the day dawned in Salem the town
was wild with excitement.

Very few had seen the cruiser come in
under the cover of the night, and no one
knew what vessel it was.

And only the constable who discovered
the pirates, seemed to have seen the brig.

That vessel had come uickly into the
harbor, run up to a secludeill anchorage, and
then sent a boat’s crew ashore to do their
lawless work.

The cruiser had evidently not known of
the presence of the buccaneer, or, if seeing
her, thought she was all right, as she was at
v anchor off the town.
figThe cruiser had been given the alarm by
g constable, but the brig was dashing by

n between her guns and the town, so she
Could only follow the daring rover.

At an early hour, a very early hour, for
he was anxious to escape his wife’s tongue,
Justin Laws had gone to the Vail mansion.

He found father and son already up, and
he was asked at once if he could find the
schooner Blackbird.

“ Through the agent, sir, in Boston, with
whom it was arranged we would do all busi-
ness of selling booty.”

“ Well, get may to go to Boston, and
to sta there until the agent hears from Cap-
tain rentford.”

’ “ Pardon, sir, but on know he has taken
the name of Captain onte.”

“ Ah, yes, I had forgotton, and I am glad
to see that you left nothing undone."

“ Thank you, sir.”

“ When on see, or can communicate with
Captain onte, tell him to devote every
energy to the capture of this irate craft Red
Dove, for she is worth a ortune, having
vast sums of gold on board.

“Tell him to keep her captain prisoner, if
not killed in action, until you come to see
him hanged, with some friends of yours,
and my son and myself will follow your ex-
ample, disguise ourselves and go to see him
strung up." '

“I understand, sir.”

“Tell him to give up all else and to run
down the Red Dove.”

“I will, sir.”

"Now take a teddy, for you look used up,
then have breakfast with us and go by spe-
cial carriage to Boston.”

‘3 Yes, em” and an hour after Justin Laws
was reclining in the soft cushions of a ve-
hicle as it rolled away toward Boston, with
his luggage, which had not left the stage
office, strapped on behind.

He had not dared return home. so had
written a line to his wife that he had been
called away at once, but would' not forget
her orders, upon arriving in the city, to get
her a black satin dress, velvet bonnet and
some laces.

These things Mrs. Laws had ordered six
months before, but she was retty certain of

' receiving them this time, or'her husband
knew there would be “war declared ” at
once on his return.

And old Captain Hudson had made an
early visit to the town, to return to the cot-

'.- ta e for breakfast completely full of news.

,' . the] and Estelle greeted him pleasantly,

,-and though a trifle pale. they looked very
bewitcbing in their morning dresses.

The sailor soon told his story, which was

 

  in eflect about what Constable Carr had

' made known to Captain Vail.

Estelle lanced at Ethel with a look that
meant: “ 0 you stillxtrust him?”

Ethel then asked quietly: “ Uncle Hudson,
you he left a card ?"

‘ “ Y s, Ethel. with a little Red Dove flag.”

“ The card had written on it what you
 told me?"

' "Yes."

" you think it possible to get that
ca ’, . .
 511510, m dear; I do not see how it can be
i. .; done. for aptain Vail took it.”

~-"Estelle.’
 ‘1 rhea.
 ‘ u to owithmetomakea
17am" y g . -

 

 

her ii the .words:
n, “ii;

“ Certainly.”

" It is upon Captain Vail.”

“ Ab! and why do you go there, Ethel?”

“ I wish to see that card.”

“ I understand you, I think. You wish
to compare the writin on it with some that
you have of Captain ll eredith‘s.”

“ Yes. for I have a few verses in my al-
bum which he wrote, and also a communica-

tion which he sent me by Wanda the Witch, _

and which I told you of.”

“ Yes, I will go with you, Ethel,” and an
hour after breakfast Captain Ezra Vail and
his son Rupert Were surprised to see the two
maidens enter their private office.

They were both struck, by the beauty of
Ethel's companion and wondered who she
Could be, and father and son rose with mark-
ed politeness,

But Ethel had a motive in coming, and
lost no time in making it known.

She did not introduce them to Estelle, but
bowed coldly to both and said:

“ Captain Vail, I learned of your misfor-
tune this morning, and it seems that the rich
and powerful can also meet with reverses;
but I learn that you have a card with a mes-
sage on it in the handwriting of Captain
Meredith?"

“ I have, Miss Monte.”

“ I would like to see that card, if you
please.”

Rupert Vail turned to his desk when his
father said quickly:

“I have it at home in my private desk,
Miss Monte. and when we go home to din-
ner will get it and have my son bring it to

on.”
y “ You could not send for it, sir?”

"No, for I allow no one to go into my
desk.

“May I ask why you wish to see it?"

“Curiosity, sir, a woman’s prerogative,”
was the answer. '

“ I will let my son bring it to you.”

" I am sorry to give Mr. Vail such trouble,
so perhaps you would be good enough to
send it?"

“ No; for I prefer to let it go only through
my son, or my son’s hands.” I

” As you please, sir—good-mornin ,” and
the two maidens left the office, whilefitupert

ai :
“Father, I have the card here now,

“ Don’t be a feel, my son, for you are my
son, but have your wits about you.

“Hand me that book yonder marked
‘ Captains’ Letters ’ and bring me that pirate
Meredith’s card.”

Rupert did as he was told, and for a long
while the father and son were engaged in
some work that seemed to interest them
greatly.

In the mean ,time Ethel and Estelle re-
traced their way homeward, the regard of
all eyes, and the town was so crowded, and
in such a state of excitement they were very
glad to et back once more to the seclusion
of Cliff ottage.

Scon after dinner the old servant an-
nounced “Captain Rupert Vail.”

With a beating heart, Ethel entered the
little parlor, accompanied by Estelle, but out-
wardly she was calm. ,

Rupert Vail looked his very best, and had
driven to the cottage in his own stylish turn-
out. with coachman in liver .

He cast an admiring gance at Estelle,
whom again Ethel did not present him to,
and who showed that she came merely as the
friend of Ethel.

But he looked as though he would have
preferred to have seen Ethel alone.

“You have brought the card, Captain
Vail?"

“ I have, Miss Ethel—here it is.”

He took from his pocket, as he spoke, the
verry rett miniature flag with the card at-
tache , an handed it to her.

“ What an exceedingly pretty flag!" said
Ethel, with no trace of excitement. and she
hanged it to Estelle, while she unpi‘nned the
car .

As thou h to secure a better light, she
walked to t is window, thus turning her back
to Ru ert Vail. - '

-An it was well that she did, as her face
turned to the hue of marble when she glanced
at the writing, and in a whisper came from

Godl’ it is

,I
i .

his writingl’”

     

 

 

“ It is Captain Malcolm Meredith’s writing,
Miss Ethel," said Rupert Vail, who had over-
heard the whispered words.

“ So 1 said, sir.”

“Meredith the Buccaneer

“ 1 said not so, sir, but that thewriting was
that of my friend, Captain Meredith.

“I thank you, sir." and the card was re-
turned with a bow which Rupert Vail
could not but understand meant that there
lwas no more to be said, and so he took his
eave.

,n

 

CHAPTER XLII.
DOUBT AND HOPE.

AFTER the departure of Rupert Vail from
Cliff Cottage, Ethel Monte almost broke
down.

It was certain that she had received a se-
vere shock in the recognition of her lover‘s
writing, and but for the presence of Estelle
she might have given up entirely.

“ Estelle, did you read that writing?” she
asked excitedly.

“Yes, Ethel.”

“ Did you note it particularly?“

“ I did. particularly so.”

“And you observed any peculiarity about
it?"

“ I must confess that I did, for the words
seemed to be all run together, though the
handwriting was bold and attractive.”

“ Now look at this, please.”

She handed to Estelle what she had of her
lover's writing.

She saw Estelle start as she saw it, and
asked nervously:

“ What do you think?”

“I regret to say that I would think this
and the card written by the same person.”

“'01), Heaven! what am I to believe?

“ And yet he bade me trust him.”

Her grief was so deep that Estelle said in
a low veice of sympathy:

“ And I would do so, Ethel.”

“Give me a straw of hope and I will
gras it.

“ on mean for me to trust him?”

“ Yes, Ethel.”

“ But why after this damning proof?"

Estelle was silent and after a moment
Ethel continued:

“Estelle, I know that Uncle Hudson and
you both believe him guilty and think me
stubborn, after all that has passed.

“He came here last night and you heard
his words, to trust in my brother against
all seeming proof. ,

“I saw him then, and I saw him again
on the deck of the vessel I know to have
been his brig.

“ He was flying out to sea, returning no
fire which the cruiser poured upon him.

“He even revealed himself on the deck
by the m00nlight.

“ To-day we find that he landed and robe
bed Vail & Company’s office, and he left a
card with his name upon it.

“ I have seen the writing and it is his,
and now I say must I still trust on?”

“Ethel, you ask for a straw of hope,
and I will try and give you one.”

“Do, I be of you.”

“As I un erstand it, Captain Rupert Vail
has sought your hand in marriage?"

It 7’

“His father appears determined that he
shall wed you?”

“ Yes.” . _

“They have tried to force you into this
marriage?”

“They have" ‘

“And you can see no reason beyond his
love for you?” v

“ I cannot even understand whyie should
love me, for I have hated him a shown
it to him.”

“ He knows that vou are not rich, and he
is enormously weal y.”

ll  )1

“Now, Ethel, though I can well under-
stand how any honorable man can love you,
I cannot comprehend how such a man as
Rupert Vail appears to be can Wish to marry
one who is poor and hates him, taking your
beauty out of the consideration, and to Win
you persecutes you and your brother.

“ Now he knows you are engaged to Cap-
tain Meredith, so be naturally wishes to make
him out a irate,and as his father and himself 3
have sure y entrapped your brother./ they »

 

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Would do all in their power to prove Mere-
dith a pirate.

“ Now to the point I wish you to see.

“Did you notice when you asked for that
card Rupert Vail turned to his desk?”

“Yes. ’

“ As though to get it?”

“ Yes.”

“His father quickly checked him in what
he meant to do, and the son drew some
papers over something that lay upon his
desk, and now that I have seen the little Red
Dove flag, it looked to me as though that was
what he wished to hide."

“ But he said that it was at home."

“So he said; but why should it be there,
when naturally he would have it at the
office?" -

“ That is true.”

“Now my straw of hope is that he saw
your motive. to see the handwriting on the
card, and if it was not Captain Meredith‘s
to forge his hand on a card and send it to
you."

“Why, Estelle! you are a perfect detec-
tive.”

“ Has he any of Captain Meredith’s writ-
ins?"

k“ Yes; for I know Malcolm Meredith
wrote him when he was here in regard to
attaching his Vessel to his whaling fleet.”

“Then I believe I am right."

“God bless you, my dear Estelle, you do
indeed give me a straw of hope; but can we
not find out if this is so?"

“Do you know any one whom you could
ask to come here, who doubtless saw the
card as it was left by the—by Captain Mere-
dith?”

“ Uncle Hudson said that Wanda the
Witch was there.”

“ I will ask him.”

The old sailor was enjoying his pipe in his
room, when Ethel called to him and asked if
he thought Wanda the Witch had seen the
writing on the card left with the Red Dove
flag in Ezra Vail’s office.

“She did, for she laughed mockineg at
Captain Vail, and forced her wa into the
office with the few that went in an made the
discovery, so Constable Carr said.”

“ Come, Estelle, do you wish to take a sail
with me?" and Ethel’s face brightened.

Estelle was more than willin , and soon
after the two girls were in Ethel s skiff, and
the latter was at the tiller and making for the
home of Wanda the Witch.

That odd woman was seated in front of
her cabin, but greeted them pleasantly, for
her, when they arrived.

" Good Mother Wanda, this is my best
friend, Miss Estelle Brentford, who is visit-
ing me for a few days, and we have come to
have a little talk with you,” said Ethel.

“Sit down, my pretty ones, for you are
both pretty, though I was once our match;
but in beauty was my ruin, an it made me
what am to-day.

" Perhaps had_ I been less beautiful, I
would have married some honest farmer lad,
calnd been happy to-day as the mother of chil-

ren.

“ But listen to the old fool Wanda talk—
you {gamed to ask me something, Ethel?”

“ es.”

“ About the visit of the pirate last night?”

“ Yes." ,

“ Well, what is it you wish to know?”

“You were up in the town?”

“ I was, for the guns alarmed me, and I
sailed over.” . '

“ You were there when Captain Vail
came?"

“ Yes, and his son with him; and oh, how
it hurt them to lose their gold!"

“ They were surely robbed?"

“ lie doubt of that, for the iron box was

one.

“ Did you go into the office?"

“ I did.”

“ With Captain Vail?"

“ Along With him, Officer Carr, and oth-

rs.”
e “ You saw the Red Dove flag?"

‘- Yes, it was on his table.”

“ Did on see the card?”

“ I di ."

“ And read it?”

“ Yes.” ' _

“ Did you particularly notice the writ-

ing?
“ Yes."

 

" Was it the same hand as this?" and Edith
handed out the card she had received b the
witch on a former occasion from Ma colm
Meredith.

“ No, this is Malcolm Meredith’s hand.”

“ I know it, good Wanda; but was that on
the card the same?"

“ No, it was far different.”

“ You remember what it said?"

Wanda repeated the words exactly.

“And you are sure that he did not write
the card? ’

“Of course not, for he was not here last
night."

“ He was, and at the cottage!”

Wanda started, and looked fixedly at
Ethel.

Then she said:

“ Tell me the truth, irl.”

She was told all, an both maidens saw
that the witch was deeply moved.

At last she said bluntl :

“ Leave me now, for must think.
"I will see you again.”
They departed, and W'anda muttered to

horse] :

11‘? Can the boy have deceived me, after

a
“Is he really the Buccaneer of the Red

Dove Flag?"

CII-APTER XLIII.
WAR-CLOUDS.

As the skiff returned to Cliff Cottage, a
large vessel was seen standing into the
harbor.

“It is a sloop-of-war,” said Ethel, who
was thoroughly posted on all rigs f vessels.

“ The one that pursued the brill’ast night,
doubtless,” responded Estelle, and as the
beautiful vessel drew nearer she continued:

“I know that vessel, Ethel; it is the Sea
Sentinel, and her first lieutenant is a particu-
lar friend of mine, and l have often been on
board.

“ But for the sorrows upon us both about
our respective brothers, it would be pleasant
to send my card to Lieutenant Vassar and
other officers I know; but no, it is best not, I
guess."

“ Do as you deem best, Estelle, for Ido
not wish you to devote yourself wholly to
me, my sweet friend.”

“Ah, Ethel, what heart have I with the
doubt hanging over my poor brother’s career,
to seek pleasure for m self.

“ No, Ferd Vassar is a noble fellow, and
at one time I half thought I was in love with
him; but if we need aid or advice, thenI
will send for him, and I could trust him as a
brother.”

“ It is pleasant indeed to have such a
friend. Estelle; but the sloop is a beautiful
vessel." '

“ Yes, one of the finest and fleetest in the
nav .”

“ Yet she did not catch the brig.”

“ So it seems, and if there is a shadow of
doubt about her commander, I am heartily
glad of it.

“ See, the Sea Sentinel has come to anchor
not far from your home, and in the very
center of the harbor, as though to keep
guard."

The young girls had now reached the co
tage, and seated upon the little porch watch
the glorious sunset.

They saw a boat leave the side of the
sloop-of-war. as soon as she had dropped an-
chor and all for the town, and 'ust at twilight'
Captain udson appeared wa king at a very
brisk pace for him.

“ Uncle Hudson has news I am sure,” said
Ethel, with an effort to control herself.

“You dear girl, how brave you are, and
how I hope you will soon be out of all your
troubles," said Estelle sweetly.

Captain Hudson had now approached and
he called out with some excitement:

“It’s to be war, young ladies, and with
the Britishers, for we Americans are going
to hit back.

“ The sloop-of war Sea Sentinel has arriv-
ed, and is to be the guard to our port. and it
is said that a battery of heavy guns is to be
mounted on the point over yonder, \and then
let the British come on."

“.Is not that the same vessel that went in
chase of the brig last night, Captain Hudson ?"
Estellee Brentford asked. ,

“It ts, miss. \and the officer who came

 

 

ashore reported that she out—ran them easily,
and in spite of their fire never returned a
shot; but if I was a younger man I would go
to sea again on a privateer to fight the
British.”

“No, Uncle Hudson, you must remain
here to defend me; but you say the sloop is
to remain here?”

“ Yes, she is to make this her port and
cruise in the vicinity.

“The fort is to be built at once, and there
will be stirring times in Salem town,”

“ My oor brother! how he would like to
be an o cer in the service of his country.

“Estelle, I almost fear I shall never see
him again."

“ Do not get blue, my dear Ethel, after
having been so brave, for I have strong hopes
that all will yet come well,” was Estelle’s
cheering response.

Then they went in to tea and as the came
out Estelle came face to face with a ta 1 form
in uniform, who had just stepped up to the
door.

“ Lieutenant Vassar!"

“ Miss Estelle! you here.”

Their hands met in the grasp of real friend-
ship, and turning Estelle presented Ethel and
the old captain.

“ Now explain yourself, Sir Lieutenant,
and why 1 find you here in Salem town,"she
said with a smile.

“ I think an explanation is due from you
too, Miss Estelle; but 1 am here with my
vessel as a guard, for we expect trouble to
begin at once with England, and in fact
there has already been fighting at sea and
some of our merchant craft taken by British
cruisers.

“ But I landed here to place a guard for
the night on the point, to watch for incom—
ing vessels and signal the sloop. as we_ have
reason to expecta visit from a British cruis-
er.
“I came to the cottage here to ask per-
mission, and lo! I find you.

“ Is there more you would know ?”

“Yes, why did you not catch that buc-
caneer last night?”

“ Ah! he caught us all aback, for we were
not looking for a foe in the harbor, and to
have given him a broadside would have been
to shake the town up terribly and kill inno~
cent people.

“We gave chase, and he sailed faster than
any craft the Sea Sentinel ever tried speed
with.”

“ He was Meredith the Buccaneer, I
heard.”

“So reported, and I guess truly, for his
vessel is a brig; yes, and a schooner, too, I
have heard, when he wishes to make her so,
and she is said to possess wonderful speed.

“ Now tell me why I find you here?”

“I am on a visit to my best of friends,
Miss Mente; and, Lieutenant Vassar, I am
glad you are here, for we are both in trouble,
and you are such a dear good fellow and can
help us. "

“ You have but to command me, Miss
Estelle, as you know, as also has Miss Monte;
but perhaps I can guess something of your
trouble, for I was in Boston when the
schooner Blackbird was cut out.”

“And, Ferd Vassar, let me tell you that
Captain Mark Monte no more out that
schooner out to make a pirate of her than I
did, and my unfortunate brother Burt did
not 0 to sea to sail under a black flag.

“ hey are gonepand infamy is cast upon
them, but there is some strange mystery in
all this, and you must help us to fathom it,
for Ethel will trust you as I do."

Estelle spoke almost impressivel , and as
Ethel gazed into the resolute, nob e face of
the handsome young officer, she felt that the
praise bestowed upon him had not been un-
deserved. and she said:

” I will be most happy to have the advice '

i

and friendship of Lieutenant Vassar.’

“And you shall have both, Miss Monte, I

and I will do all in my power to aid on;
but let me first dispose o my men by as in
if I may put a few men in the high, wood
point above here?” ,

“ I will give the permission thh pleasure,

Lieutenant Vassar,” was the reply of Ethel, ~-

and the young officer went out to place his
guards, after which he returned to the cot-

tage, and was told the whole story of Mark ~ ‘

Monte's persecutions, and Estelle also made

known to him how she had visited her:

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. had sailed into

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Monte, the Matineer. *

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brother in prison, and all that he had said to
her.

The disguises of Justin Laws. and his
seeming secret service for Captain Ezra Vail,
were also told, and Lieutenant Ferd Vassar
having listened with the deepest attention,
said earnestly:

“ I agree with you, Miss Monte, that there
is a mystery to fathom, and that your brother
may be the victim of a cruel persecution;
but I cannot understand why these Whaler
merchants should be so determined to get
him out of their way, and there must be
something back of it all which we do not see.

“But 1 will keep your secret and see if
I cannot find some clew to the mystery,”
and promising to dine the next day at Cliff
Cottage, Ferd Vassar left his fair friends and
returned on board of his vessel; but he left
both Estelle and Ethel happier for his visit,
and far more hopeful for the future, though
he would not venture an opinion that Mal-
colm Meredith was not the Red Dove rover,
for under all circumstances he feared that
he was and felt deep sympathy for the
maiden who he could see loved the man of
mystery devotcdly in spite of the brand of
outlawry upon him,

CHAPTER XLIV.
vrsr'rons AT CLIFF COTTAGE.

THE schooner Blackbird was a beauty.

In spite of her lawless career she was an
object to admire, and to win a sailor’s
merit. .

Her outlines were perfect and as finely
drawn as a king’s yacht.

She was so trim she looked quite small,
and it was only when she was skurrying
along under canvas enough to run under
most vessels of her size that she a peared to
be what she was, a craft of amp e tonnage
for deep-sea sailing.

 

, Her hull was graceful, her bows knife-like, _

and her stern narrow and lean.

But her depth and her beam amidships
helped her to carry sail, and gave her ample
room for her guns, of which she carried three
eighteens to a side, with a bow and stern
pivot of large caliber.

She had been a slayer, and was built for
a craft to run cargo of blacks from Africa to
Cuba, but had been caught by a cruiser un-
der whose guns she ran in a fog.

Sold in Boston, to give her ca tors rize
money, she had been bought b zra ail,
who said he might have use or her some

(in .

That day came when he decided to use her
as a means of adding to his fortune and get-
tiné rid of Mark Monte at the same time.

ip ry as an eel himself, though consid-
ered t 6 very acme of honor, he suspected
every one, and the result was he decided to
win a man to serve him faithfully by saving
him from the gallows and giving him a
chance to make mone by piracy.

He selected Burt rentford as the man,
and so managed that if the youn man was
caught and banged as a pirate he, zra Vail,

~ would never be known to be the partner in

crime of the buccaneer captain.

Never doing anything by halves, Ezra Vail
determined to lit up the schooner in every
respect, and his hireling, Justin Laws, did
the work well.

He selected a crew of seventy men, and
there was nothing wanting to add to the craft
or her men and fittings when she sailed.

If successful, then Ezra Vail would reap
a olden harvest from piracies.

f unsuccessful as a pirate, he would at

:least destroy the man in the way of his son
, to gain an enormous inheritance left by Lois.

Rutledge, the condemned murderess, to her

' children, Mark and Ethel Monte.

But Ezra Vail had an enemy that was do-
ing him serious injury.
And that enemy was the outlaw known as

the Red Dove Buccaneer.

He had gone to the whaling-grounds and
robbed his ves els of gold.

He had caught the Whalers on their way
home, and even in si ht of port had over-
hauled them and force them to pay toll.

He had not used force unless compelled to
do so, but be had carried his point in every

 particular and had won the name of the
' - whalers’ Nemesis.

And this man, Ca tain Malcolm Meredith,
em port one day as an
hpnest sailor.

He had sprung from his vessel and saved
Ethel Monte from drowning, and after re-
maining in port for some time, had gone
away, her pledged lover.

He had gone. so he said, to join Ezra Vail‘s
fishing fleet and bring back a cargo.

But after some time passed he had ap~
peared as a pirate.

And, growing bolder, he had entered Sa-
lem Harbor by night and robbed the office of
Ezra Vail & Company.

N 0 one else had been harmed, or robbed.

This looked as though he had some cause
for revenge against the rich whaling firm.

So it was that Ezra Vail decided to have
the commander of the Blackbird notified
that he must hunt down the buccaneer craft
Red Dove.

Her capture would satiate Ezra Vail‘s re-
venge against Malcolm Meredith, who na-
turally must be hanged, and the vessel was
doubtless a rich prize, for all of the bucca-
neer’s gold must be on board.

And hence the sending of Justin Laws to
Boston to see “ Captain Monte,” as Ezra
Vail had told Burt Brentford he must be
known. ..

With Mark Monte believed to be a bucca-
neer, with Malcolm Meredith hanged, and
Ethel Monte the Wife of Rupert Vail, Captain
Ezra Vail. the arch-villain, would be a happy
man, for he never allowed his conscience to
trouble him.

And far these ends he strove, and he was
determined to win.

He had intended to purchase a craft and fit
her out as a privateer for Rupert. and thus
capture the Red Dove; but Rupert Vail had
not take kindly to the idea.

“I milgxt get killed just in the moment of
success, and I am on the threshold of life,
father, while you have turned on the path to
'the grave, so why do you not take command
of the privateer?”

So had asked Rupert Vail, and his father
had dropped the subject with remarkable
promptness.

Thus matters stood' when the American
sloop-of-war Sea Sentinel came into Salem
Harbor as a guard, and the rumors of war
were flying wildly about the country.

That any one suspected him of wrong-
doing, Ezra Vail had not the slightest idea,
and outside of the three unworthy plotters,
himself, Rupert and Justin Laws, Ethel
Monte had been the only one to believe him
guilty of treachery.

Now Estelle Brentford, Captain Hudson,
lastly, Lieutenant Ferd Vassar had been let
into the secret, and Ezra Vail, while setting
a trap for others, little dreamed that he might
be baiting it with himself.

The day after the arrival of the Sea Sen-
tinel, all was excitement in town.

A coaster had arrived with heavy guns,
and another with several hundred workmen,
and work was at once be unto make a water
battery to protect the bar or.

A signal-station was established on the
wooded hill but a short distance from Cliff
Cottage, and Ethel felt that her home was no
lon er isolated and uprotected.

he able-bodied citizens of Salem were or-
ganized into a com any of soldiers, and sev-
eral others were armed of old men and
youths as a home guard, while rich men he-
gan to build vessels that would serve as
privateers to grow rich ofl of the cemmerce
of Great Britain.

Rumor had come in of several engagements
at sea between American and English cruis-
ers, and merchant craft were beginning to
. hu the shore for fear of being captured.

lgn the midst of all the excitement two
Whalers had come in and their captains re-
ported having been chased, overhauled and
robbed by the fleet pirate craft Red Dove.

Thus the matter stood when one afternoon
a carriage. drove up to Clifl Cottage and
Judge Brentford stepped out and was met
by his daughter ahd Ethel.

"I tried to get along without you, Estelle,
for I knew from your letters you ought to
remain with your sweet friend here; but, the
house was so dismal I decided to come after
you and carry Miss Ethel back with us,”
said the jgidge. who was at once drawn to-‘
ward the eautiful and friendless girl.

But Ethel declared she could not go, and
begged the ud e to at least spend a couple

 

  

of a list it Got sand he readin con-
sentedytodo so,  V .

  

, x

i .l. V

 

  

The truth was Ethel wished to hear from
her lover, and she knew, if her brother es-
caped he would come at once home, so she
would not leave.

Captain Hudson found in the judge a boy-
hood friend, and they had not met for forty
years, so the two got along famously togeth-
er, and more and more charmed with Ethel
Judge Brentford was persuaded to remain a
week at the cottage.

But business called him home then, and
Estelle went with him, Ethel promising to
send for her if she needed her, or to come to
her if she could do so soon.

And so Ethel and Uncle Hudson were
again alone.

But hardly had the carriage of Judge
Brentford rolled out of sight on its way to
Boston, when a visitor arrived at the cottage.

It was Rupert Vail, and he asked to see
Ethel at once on most important business.

 

CHAPTER XLV.
THE ,TWO CAPTAINB.

THE Blackbird set sail from Boston with-
out a light visible upon her decks.

As she was known to be ready to sail,
when she slipped by the fort, she was simply
hailed, and answered promptly, so was not
brought to. Once out at sea, with Boston
Light astern, Mark Monte went into the
cabin to read his “sealed instructions” and
know which course he was to pursue.

He found there a young man in the uni-
form of a captain, seated at a table, a letter
with broken seal in his hand.

He had been told that his first luif was
indisposed and in the cabin, so thought noth
ing of it.

And. the ’one he found there was Burt
Brentford.

That young man having received his orders
from Justin Laws, in his disguise, was wait-
ing until the schooner got to sea to carry
them out.

He had, when the schooner was fairly
under way. come out of a state-room, too
out of his pocket a sealed letter and sat down
to read it.

That letter contained his “sealed instruc-
tions.”

His face changed color as he read it, and
it was evident that he was deeply moved.

What he read was as follows:

“ Cmnm Boar Barman.- Schooner Blackbird :——

" Sim—The vessel of which you are to assume
command. after reading this letter, was fitted out
10;; urpose which was partially made known to
you While you lay in {33m cell in prison awaiting the
day when you were be strangled to death upon
the gallows.

” The motive of the writer. and who is owner of the
schooner, for savin you from a felon’s fate you need
not know: but hav ng saved you. I now lace under
your command this fine vessel, fleet as t e wind and

ully armed, manned and nipped.

“ You have been a sailor, egun as a yachts'man I
learn. and rumor has it that in your wande s to
syoid Justice for a murder committed, you were a

rate.

p “ I care noth for your antecedents. but having
saved your neck rom the hangman’s rope and ven
you the means of earning your fortune, 1 sh ex-

thnt you serve me faithfully, as I beheve that
you will do.

“ I desire mone , and the way to get it is by over-
haulin richly fro hted vessels and gettin booty.

“ Wi h this fleet vessel you can readily 0 that.

“ One-half of your gains I am to have.

“ The other half to go forggnlrs on your vessel,
to gorge]! and your crew, you should certame

c .
go" I furnish the means entire and you do the work.
and our neck gets stretched if taken.

“ hope you fully understand me. for I wish to
make myse f plain and have no mistake.

“ When 'you have a cargo of booty on are to com-
municate with the landlord of the tar Inn and he
wllliitsend a vessel out after your booty and dispose
o .

“ He will appraise it as it is transferred and pay
you yourhhare. while my share he will hold (or me
when the booty is sold.

“ You can readily got word to Landlord Hopper
Hayes, Star Inn. by sending a trusty man ashore, or
a letter by a coaster.

“Having settled the financial matter of your
going in the schooner, let me now refer to a ttle
sflair of revenge which I wish consummated.

“There is a fee that I wish removed from my
path forever. '

" Why. it does not matter to you; but he must be
removed. ' ,

“ To entrap him, I have led him to believe he was
to command this vessel, he not knowing me as the
owner.

Wit" “m ‘° indii‘ifddmmid" “i ii? “3.?”
a cruise. on on o e v-
eminent. and that It: would need his instruction
wlign he got out to sea and left Boston Light dead
as rn.

“Your instructions are, to await his comin lugs, 'I

the cabin and wrest him, when he has read
structions.

“ You are to put him in irons. but to takehim ,on ,
lys free man, that he maybe seen :

deck, seeming

 

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 rm."

 

 

Monte ‘ari

7 my first officer. I suppose?

7 ' fiburtecus, and Mark

Montei"thé .‘Mutineer. ii

I .- a; 

 

 

there by the crews of vessels you rob and be believed
the commander of the Black ird. ;

“If he should be killed, well and good, and you i
are to so re ort. ' v

“If not, t en you are to have him executed as a I
mutineer and send proof of his death in when you
meet Landlord Hopper Hayes or.his agent.

“ This man, who is to be my Victim, through you,
bears the name of Mark Monte.

“That name you are to take, and under it com-
mityour piracies.

' “ on are to be known as Mark Monte, the Muti-
neer Marauder. .

“ To get this vessel in perfect trim, I gained a per-
mit from the Government to arm and equip her as a
pirate—hunter.

“With her setting sail from Boston the rumor
goes abroad that Mark Monte cut her out from her
anchorage and turned her into a pirate.

“I hope you understand fully. and. should a

cruiser capture on. you can state 'ou retook the
cm? from the. utineer Marauder, t us saving your ,
nec .
. “Serve me well, and you will enrich yourself; but
betray me. and you Will be delivered up to the hang-
man of the Boston jail. for. unknown to youas I am,
my eyes will be continually upon you.

“Remember not to fail me in one of my corn-
mands.

“Ccmmunicate with me, if necessary, through
the agent before named.

“ Your secret commander.
“UNKNOWN.”

Such was the letter which Burt Brentford,
the escaped prisoner, read.

And he read it several times over, so as to
impress it thoroughly upon his memory.

“Now was the man who first lplayed the
part of a priest, the man who am sure
wore a dis uise tonight, when bringing me
on board this vessel, one and the same?

“ I believe that he is; and more, that he is
a tool in some one else‘s hands.

“ But wno's? .

“ Who is it that has sought to aid me, and
was it that I might be true to his interests,
the motlvc, as he says in this letter?

“ I understood that I was to be a pirate,
and share with him the result of my piracies
before I left the jail.

“ But there is a motive beyond all this that
I cannot fathom.

“Now to take up the part I am to play
against this victim of his-.Mark Monte——
who believes himself commander of this
craft, and has been entrapped for revenge
alone.”

He had spoken the words thoughtfully, in
a low voice, as though weighing each one.

Then he relapsed into silence, and was a
long time lost in what appeared to be deep
and painful reverie. . '

He glanced several times at the handsome
uniform he had been told by the one who
brought him on board that he would find in
his state-room, and one observing him, as he
sat there, would have surmised that there
was a little strug‘gle going on in his heart.

In the midst 0 his reveries he felt by the
movements of the schooner that she was rid-
ing the ocean swells; and he set his lips firm
1y to meet the ordeal through which he must

pass.
Another moment and Mark Monte entered
gbe cabin, and the two captains were face to

ace.

 

CHAPTER XLVI.
ran TRAP sr anxo.

Boar Bmmnn eyed his tem rary
captain with a peculiar look, when e en-
tered the cabin.

He beheld a. man his junior in years, but
one whose face was stern though kindly, and
who looked every inch a sailor.

Tall, splendidly formed, handsome, and
with every feature stamped with resolution
and coura e.
t—a friend true as steel, 9. foe to

dreads , a man to do no mean action.

As ho arose to his feet upon the entrance
of Mark Monte, the latter saw before him in
Burt Brentford a fine specimen of manhood.

There was a look of recklessness combined
with a cynical look that slightly marred the
handsome face: but he did not look the one
to do a mean act, but one to seek as a friend.

That he stood m the presence of a man
who had just escaped the gallows, Mark
Monte had not the rcmotest idea.

'Having been told that the first officer was‘
below, and indisposed, he now stepped tow-
ard him and said:

“ I am Captain Mark Monte. and you are

"I regret, to hear of your being indis-
sed.”

Burt Brentford read Mark '

 

said. the manner
onte extended his

The words were kindl

   
 

hand, which Burt Brentford took, while he

‘ said:

“Yes, sir; I am the first ofiirer of this
schooner, and I have just finished reading
my instructions.”

“Will you .be good enough, sir, to look
over those given to you to read when the
Blackbird left Boston Light astern, and we
will understand each other better.”

There was something odd in the words,
but Mark Monte simply bowed, and sitting
down by the table broke the seal of his “ In-
structions,” which Justin Laws, in his dis-
guise, had given him.

The papcr was dated at Boston, on the
day before, and was as follows:

“Manx Moms:—

“ sz—You have been given temporary command
of the cruiser Blackbird. for a special purpose
which I will now make known to you.

“ You happen to be in the way of certain persons,
and so it has been decided to remove you.

“ What the motives are that rompt your enemies
matters not, but you are. to e sacrificed from a
Eeeling of revenge, and the following is to be your

any

“This vessel goes out of the harbor of Boston to‘
night, leaving behind her the report that you cuther
out from her anchorage and turned her into a pirate

craft.

" This will damn ou eternally and place a halter
around your neck, or you will be at once branded
as a buccaneer.

“When you read these lines you will be at sea,
and will have left Boston L' ht astern.

“ You will have the idea t rat the vessel and crew
are under your command.

“ You are vastly wrong in that thought.

“ You are only the temporary commander until
the vess 1 gets to sea, and then, if you are wise, you
will 'urn over the command without trouble to the
one who serves temporarily as our first oflicer.

“That one is a fugitive from ustice, and the hang-
man had his grip upon him when he escaped, so you
see how ready he will be to turn pirate.

“ By so doing he can place himself in no greater
danger than he is at present, and at the same time
can win a fortune by .lracies.

“ So you see you ave to deal with a desperate

man.

“ And more, the crew have all been shipped with
the idea of a lawless crew, and they know that you
are not to be their commander. -

“ The officer into whose hands I commit the, vessel
and her destinies, will drop his own name and use

yours.

“That is. he will be known as Mark Monte the
Mutlneer Marauder, for it will be reported that you
seized the vessel and made a buccaneer of her.

“ You will be seen by the crews of vessels the
Blackbird overhauls, upon the decks, and so that
will be proof positive that you have run up the
black flag, and more, you will be supposed to be the
captain.

Now, do you grasp my idea?

“ If you should be killed in action, the better for

you; but it not you will be hanged as a pirate some
ay. I

“Now you know the trap into which you have

placed yourself. and your orders are to submit at

once to the command or your superior officer—

knmrm as ‘ Captain Monte!

“ I leave you in his hands.

Your enemy,
“ Unmwx."

Burt Brentford sat in the shadow gazing
upon the face of Mark Monte as he read the
strange words written to him.

The lamp revealed every feature of the
face perfectly; but Burt Brentford had to ad-
mit to himself that he saw not a change of
expression, not a shadow of fear or even sur-
prise. . -

He knew, too, about what Mark Monte
was reading, and he muttered to himself:

“ He’s a cool one and ho mistake.”

When Mark Monte had read the communi-
cation to the end, his eyes lingered upon the
si ature, “ Unknown.”

hen he turned it over and looked at the
address:
“ To (harm Mn: Mom

“Commanding Armed schooner Blackbird,
“At Sea on Boston Light."

.Without a glance at Brentford, he settled
himself more comfortably in his chair and
be n to reread the communication.

urt. Brentford did not move, nor did he
Eake his eyes of! that handsome, impassible
ace. -
To the end Mark Monte read the strange
letter once more, and then be folded ‘it up
and placed it upon the table.

The silence between the two was impres-_
sive. and between men of less iron nerves
would have been appalling. r

At last the silence was broken, and by
Mark Monte, who asked quietly: . _

"Are you the person referred to in this
communication, sir, um I ask?"

“ I have not read it. s r. but by what name
am I referred to in the letter?"

"No name is mentioned. sir, but you are
spoken oft.“ a fugitive from tho gallows?

 

  

“That part is true, for I am an escaped
convict,” and the words were uttered in a
tone full of bitterness.

“Ah, indeed! you do not look it, sir, for I
should never have selected you as other than
a man of noble nature, courage and kind
heart.

“ Your face bclies you, or you are falsely
accused.”

Burt Brentford started, and half-rose from
his chair.

But he changed his mind. whatever the
impulse had been, and dropping back into
his seat, said, indifi'erently:

“ A man’s face is not always the index to
his character, sir; but may I ask you to ex-
change letters with me, for mine may interest
you. as yours will me, and it is better for
both of us that we understand the situation
full '."

“)With pleasure, sir,” and Mark Monte
handed over his letter.

He did not use, so Burt Brentford had to
do so, and he gave to Mark Monte his own
communication to read.

Ere he looked at the one handed to him,
Burt Brentford watched the face of the man
before him to see him start when he read his
name and learned who he was.

But there was no start—Mark Monte’s face
was as unmoved as before, but looking up,
he said quietly:

“ Are you Burt Brentford, who was to
have been hanged ten days from today ?”

“I am, sir.”

“ I congratulate you upon your escape,
sir.” and Mark Monte resumed his reading,
while Burt Brentford muttered:

“ That man is a marvel !”

CHAPTER XLVII.
THE BLACKBIRD‘s CAPTAIN.

MARK MONTE read the communication
written to Burt Brentford through to the end
without a change of expression.

He still sat where the lamplight fell full
upon him, and as Brentford often glanccd up.
from reading the letter to Mark Monte. he
could see the latter’s face distinctly.

Then, when both had finished reading,
again fell an appalling silence between the
two.

But it was broken as before by Mark
Monte, who asked:

“ Will you inform me, Mr. Brentford, if

 

, these documents tell the truth?"

“ In what respect, sir‘t”

‘ “ As to who is to command this schooner,
and the motive of her cruise?”

“ They mean all they say, sir.”

” That you are to command, and that I am
to be arrested?”

“ Yes, sir.”

“'And the schooner is to be made a bi-
rate?”

"Yes."

“Mr. Brentford. I am not one to shrink
from duty, if death follow close on the
heels of m act. sir, and I shall not make an
exce tion in this case.

“ his schooner was fitted out and armed
for a lawless purpose, but, believing her to
be an honest craft, bound on an honest cruise,
I took command of her, and the only thing
that can deprive me of my command is
death.

“ I am captain here. and I shall defendm
rights with m life, and, as my country -
ly needs g vessels, I shall, cruise against
her foes, in the war now breaking out, and ‘-
not allow a black fin to cast its shadow up-
on'my deck while I ave the power to pre-
vent.

“ To you, sir, I offer the position of. first
lieutenant on board the Blackbird, as a
privateer in honorable warfare, and for your
own sake I hope that you will accept it and
by your career rub from your name the dis
honor now upon it, since I cannot but feel
you have reasons to extenuate your act,
wlgch if known would have proven you less
gu ty.”

Mark Monte had spoken calmly, and with-
out the slightest show that he was in any
dalnfer himself. -

e had made up his mind to his course,
and, death should alone prevent him from
doing as he intended. . .

Burt Brentford zed at him With a strange
e ression upon h face.

 
 

fear was.

e saws man at bay who knew not what,‘

 

 

 
  
   

 
   

 

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28

1.‘ w.t‘,ir|:r'=  ifir'fimt‘fg‘uu
, (w ,  Min, . fix”

1 Monte, the Matineer.

.wfipgfl’xfi; . “m, ,y,,.<~ 1,. 11.5.1,” .‘ w _ 

 

 

 

 

He saw that Mark Monte meant to be mas—
ter or lose his life in the attempt to be.

Before him flashed many thoughts of the
past, and his good resolutions for the future.

He recalled the lovely face of his deserted
wife, and her pleading. '

The little boy she ad named after him,
v his son, came before him pleading for him
to do his duty.

His sister’s beautiful face, the sister whom
he had so dearly loved, seemed to be looking
into his own, and he remembered her words
of how she trusted him and did not believe
him so guilty as he had been proven.

h Then his father’s stern face rose before

1m.

That father who had made him his idol,
who had condoned his petty faults, and had
paid his debts without a murmur until he
had outlawed himself by what was said to
have been a cruel murder of an officer of the
law, who was doing his duty by arresting
him for his crime of forgery.

He had forged his father’s name, but the
officer had brought his death upon himself
by his own acts.

But the two crimes had made him a fugi-
tive, and the stern old judge had not known
his own son where duty called him to obey
its dictates, and so the returned son had been
arrested, tried and convicted.

All these thoughts flashed through his mind,
and then came the thought of his rescue, not
from a feeling of humanity, but for gain.

He had been saved from the gallows, and
was to but serve a master by a lawless life.

He was to commit crime, in return for his
rescue, and he was to drag down an inno-
cent man to ruin, to stain his name with in-
famy.

Such were the terms offered him, and such
were the terms upon which he had gained
his freedom from death at the hands of the
hangman.

It is true he had intended to obey in his
own way, yet he had meant to serve himself
as well as his master. Now the man whom
he was to command had proclaimed himself
the master.

He had defied the orders of the Unknown,
he had said he would defy the crew.

And more, he had offered him a chance to
redeem his name from dishonor.

It was true there was a path of honor open
to him under Mark Monte’s command.

The unknown owner of the schooner de-
served to forfeit his vessel for sending her
forth to serve under a pirate flag.

And the man who confronted him had not
il-lisen in anger at the part to be played against

rm.

He had not denounced him for the trap he
had placed for him.

He had boldly averred his intention of do-
ing his duty, and he had spoken in kindness
to him, had said he believed him not so
guilt as his accusers had said, and had of-
fer him a path of honor to follow under
his lead.

Was this the man whom a cruel revenge of
an unknown master was to drag down to
ruin?

And this Mark Monte, too, was the man
who had a few days before saved the life of
his loved sister Estelle.

She had told her story of how the stranger
had sprung into the waters to her rescue. and
had saved her, clin ing to her when death
was dragging him own, and saving her in
the end.

She had told him the name of her reserver,
and he recalled him as a fellow-un ortunate,
for he had read in prison of the trial of
Mark Monte for mutiny and his acquittal.

Had Mark Monte acted difl’erently from
what he had, he might have found, on the
spur of the moment, a dangerous man in
Burt Brentford,

But, acting as he had done, he mastered
the man and the situation.

“I await, sir, your decision.

“Is it to be war between us, or friend-
shi t"

he question was asked with almost seem-
ing‘indifiierence as to which it would be.

hen came the answer, low-toned, firm,
and in earnest:

“ Ca tain Monte, to say that Ido not know
you we 1 would be false.

“I do know you, and while in prison I
read the persecution you were under, and
you had my sympathy, for I was not in-

 

tentionall a murderer, though I admit hav‘
ing forged my father’s name to save me from
rum, and ho ing and expecting to return the
sum before ue.

“ Now, sir, I know what I owe you as the
rescuer of my sister from death.

“ I accepted the terms in that letter to gain
my pardon, and I expected to carry them
out; but I did not know you to be who you
are when I entered into the plot against you.

“ You are a remarkable man, Captain
Monte, and though on board this craft, it
would be madness for you to attempt to fight
against the fate intended for you. I tell you
frankl I feel that you would die in doing
your uty.

“Your kind words to me, sir, arouse my
ambition, and you offer me your friendship.

“ I told my wife—for I confess to you I am
secretly married, that I would turn out all
right some day, and I pledged my sister that
one day she should not be ashamed of me.

“1 had in my mind then the winning of
honor by turning this vessel into a privateer.

“ ,aptain Monte, I accept your offer, sir,
and acknowledge you as commander of this
schooner, to guide her destinies and my
own.

“There is my hand upon it, and woe be
to the man that disputes your leadership!"

He held forth his hand, and it was grasped
warmly by Mark Monte, just as the cry came
from the deck:

“ Sail ho, sir, and a cruiser!"

 

CHAPTER XLVIII.‘
AN UNEXPECTED ALLY.

“ COME, Captain Monte, we will go on
deck together.

“ What the men expect I do not know,
nor what the other officers have been told by
our Unknown; but you are captain. and I
second you in what you do, sir," said Burt
Brentford.

Mark Monte hesitated an instant, and then
replied:

“ With you my ally, Lieutenant Brentford,
I shall not fear the result.

“ Come!"

They went on deck together; and Mark
Monte at once called out to an officer to point
out the sail.

“It is yonder, sir, abeam, coming before
the wind and her rig shows the cruiser.”

“Ay, ay! and she looks English and is too
heavy by far for us.

“ Let her fall off, helmsman, and Lieutenant
Brentford, set all the canvas she will stand
in this rough sea.”

“ Ay, ay, sir, ” and the young ofllcer
promptly obeyed, and the schooner went
flying awa from the large cruiser.

Hardly ad she changed her course when
more sail was set on the large vessel and a
red flame flashed from her bows.

“ Ila! that is for us to come to.

" She may be American, and may be
English.

“ We will. run for it until we know,” and
Mark Monte watched the behavior of his
vessel.

The stranger had the advantage of him, as
the sea was very rough and did not buflet
the heavier hull as it did the lighter one; but
it could be seen that the schooner gained very
slowly, if any. i I

The stranger, finding his shot unheeded,
opened a rapid fire, and the balls flew thick
and fast about the schooner, yet did no dam-
age, fortunately.

Mark Montc soon discovered that his of-
ficers and men seemed in utter ignorance of
what the Unknown had intended with regard
to himself, but they, without doubt, felt that
ther had been shipped for a lawless cruise.

hose of them who supposed they could
do as they pleased were but a very short
while in making the discovery that their
captain meant to be master, and was ably
seconded by his first lufi. _

That their commander was every inch a
sailor, they realized at once, and there was a
ring in his voice that was dangerous if
aroused.

He remained on deck all night. closely
watching every movement of his vessel, and
at times taking the helm himself, as though
to feel her best points.

When daWn broke. he laneed back at the

cruiser. which was now ust beyond range,
and said quietly:

 

 

“ We have gained just one mile on her,
and the sea is growing wilder, so we will
barel hold our own.

“ ire a gun of defiance, Mr. Brentford,
and run up the American flag, for I am sure
yonder fellow is an Englishman.”

The order was promptly obeyed, and in
answer the cruiser wore round and let fly
a broadside, while the English flag rose to
her peak.

“Ah! as I thought and he has declared
war.

“ Now to escape him, for he has four guns
and men to one.”

On through the day the schooner sped, the
cruiser gaining slightly in the very heavy
seas, for she was a remarkable fast craft, and
at nightfall she was within range.

During the night not a light was set upon
the schooner, and Mark Monte tried to dodge
the Englishman.

But the cruiser also showed no lights, and
when dawn came was still in range.

“ They have sharp eyes aboard that craft
and have watched our every move,” said
Burt Brentford.

The day passed as the night had, and thus
went by forty-eight hours with the fleet and
persistent Englishman hanging on the wake
of the Blackbird like a bloodhound.

When a long way off from the land, Mark
Monte determined to double over night upon
his tireless pursuer and run back to seek a
hiding-place inshore, should he still pursue.

He was successful in throwing him off for
several hours, and had gotten Wt‘il headed
back for the land when dawn broke to find
the Englishman a league to windward and
hove to. v

But the schooner was sighted quickly and
the chase begun anew.

At last, after one week had passed the
schooner was within a few leagues of land,
and Mark Monte knew the dawn would re-
veal the high and rugged hills of Montauk
Point. .

He had believed his pursucr thrown off his
track at last, for she could not be seen in the
hazy atmosphere, and had allowed his hard.
worked crew to seek what rest they could.

But, just as dawn broke there came a red
flash, another and another and so on until a
broadside of guns had been fired, and out of
the haze came the hurtling iron‘shower.

It was from the Englishman and he was
not a mile astern.

The shots told too, some of them, for
several men went down, and a gun was crip-

led.

p “ To your quarters!” rung out Mark
Monte‘s voice, and the crew rushed to obe .

Then the schooner's guns responded to t e
fire of the Englishman, and every shot told.

At once it became a running fl ht, with
the schooner hastening to round ontauk
Point.

But her adversary was untiring and re-
lentless, and her guns found a savage fire up-
on the Blackbird.

Mark Monte handled his vessel with a skill
that won the admiration of his crew.

He was cool, fearless and skillful.

He knew that the odds were against him
terribly: but he meant to fight to the bitter
end and punish his huge adversary all in
his power. .

He was glad to see that he could trust
both ofileers and crew, and Burt Brentford
was a tower of strength to him.

The schooner was crippled but continued
her flight and fight.

Two of her guns wer dismounted. her
main-topmast was shot a ay, and a dozen
of her crew had fallen, but she had hit back ‘
hard and all knew that the owner would have
nothing to crow over if she captured them,
and which Mark Mente vowed should be
only when further resistance would be mad-
ness.

The large cruiser, as though furious with
her prey for giving her such a long chase,
fired savagely, and Mark Monte began to
feel that escape was out of the question, and
it was only to do his foe all the damage pos-
sible before he struck his flag that he kept up
the fight.

At the same time he wanted to round
Montauk Point and escape in his boats, set-
ting his vessel on fire. _

He had just given his command to his
officers, to repare the boats and put in them
what provrsions and things that. could be

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6 taken, when out. from behind Montauk Point

shot a vessel into view.

All eyes fell upon it, and as it headed bold-
ly toward them, the crew of the schooner
gave a ringing cheer, . . o

It was a brig, and she sailed like a witch.

But, as she came on she was seen to he get-
ting her canvas into fighting trim, and
her men were observed going to quarters.

She certainly was a very beautiful vessel
and carried a large armament, and full crew.

Was she friend or foe was the question
that now arose, for she showed no colors.

But a moment after she lufied and sent a
broadside at the Englishman, while the Stars
and Stripes went up to her peak, and to the
fore a flag, the private colors of her command-
er.

That she was an ally of the schooner there
was no longer doubt.

CHAPTER XLIX.
A FRIEND IN NEED. .

THE fire of the stranger upon the English
cruiser was a severe one, for the effect was
readily discerned from the’ deck of the
schooner.

The brig was hardly much stronger, in
uns and men, than was the schooner, but
or all that she rushed down to the aid of the

Blackbird. though her commander could not
but know that the Englishman was far
stronger than the two American vessels to-
gether. _ _

But he came on With a vengeance, pourmg
in his shot and maneuvering his vessel with
great skill, while he headed so as to get a
raking fire at the cruiser.

Every shot seemed to tell, and the punish-
ment the large vessel was receiving was
readily visible from the schooner.

Mark Monte was not a man to let another
fight his battles for him, and he at once
ceased his flight and nerved for close action.

“B Neptune! but that brig is handled
s len idly, yet I fear together even we can

0 nothing against the cruiser,” Burt Brent-

ford said.

But, as though in contradiction of his
words, the brig’s broadside cut away the
bowsprit and foremast of the cruiser, and
she came to suddenly,

But her crew were game, and kept her
guns roaring as she did so.

The cheers from the brig were answered
b the crew of the schooner, and Mark
hibnte's guns were fired rapidly and with
deadly aim.

As the cruiser was lying to, the. brig and
schooner held the advantage in getting into
position, and right Well did they use it, until
it began to look as though the Englishman
had caught a pair of Tartars.

As they neared the cruiser, each uring
in a terrific fire, they saw that the nglish
vessel was suffering greatly, though she still
fou ht on.

e British captain felt that he could have
beaten oil, or even whipped half a dozen
such craft, had they not been handled as
those two were, and he said to an officer:

“If we are whipped, pluck and skill will
do it, for we are far the stronger.”

But the brig and schooner were not to be
beaten off, and as they neard the cruiser, as
though to board, one on her starboard quar-
ter, the other forward of amidships on her
port side, the English captain felt that the
chances had come down to not being even
equal. .

Another five minutes passed, and With her
captain fallen and her deck strewn wrth
dead and d ing, the English vessel was
forced to strike.

“Cease firing!” cried a voice on board. ‘

“ Do you surrender?" came from the brig.

ltAy' ay !"

“ Then haul down your flag!"

The order was. slowly obeyed and a mo-
ment after the bug ranged up alongside, fol-
lowed by the schooner.

“ You are CaptalnyMark Monte, sir?” and
atall, handsome man advanced toward the
commander of the Blackbird.

" I am, sit", and you—’2

“I am Malcolm Meredith. sir.”

The two men had met before, but it was
when Mark Monte was in prison, and Mal-
colm Meredith had visited him'in dis ise.

Instantly Monte held forth his ban and

d.
" You place another great debt of grati.

” o- ' . i
"a; l'”-r

.» -,

 

asks a  V“ 5’ 3' '
.\v' .

u.‘
..

Men the ‘Mutineer

tude upon me, Captain Meredith, for we
would have been this vessel’s prize but for
your pluck and skill.”

“ Thank you, and am glad to have served
you, for I saw your danger, but felt we could
beat the British vessel off, if not whip him.

“ I was in search of you, Captain Monte;
but we’ll talk over matters when you have
secured your prize.”

“ wy prize? My dear sir, it is yours.”

“ ell, we will share it and the honor,
and I will take the vessel to Boston, for I
have a motive in doing so.”

“ And you were in search of me?"

" Yes, but not now can I tell you why.”

They went together then and accepted the
surrender of the Englishman. who, a splen-
did sailor, could not but compliment them
upon their work havin been so well done.

After all was rea y for sailing, Mark
Monte went into the cabin of the brig, and
Malcolm Meredith told him how he had been
in Boston in disguise, and heard of his hav-
ing been branded with cutting out the Black-
bird to turn her into a pirate.

“I knew it was false, so followed you to
see if you had not been entrapped by your
old foe. Ezra Vail, for he is such to you, in
spite of all his professions to the eontrar .”

Mark Monte then sent for Burt Brent 0rd.
and told Malcolm Meredith his story, and
concluded by saying:

“Now I intend to turn privateer and win
a commission from the Government, though
at first Isuppose we will be branded as buc-
cancers.

“ But you also have sufiered, Captain
Meredith.”

“I have, indeed, and I am no more a
rover than are you, and when next we meet
I will explain to you a secret, but now I can-
not make it known.

“I will, however, go to Salem and see
your sister. and tell her not to doubt you un-
der any circumstances. while you go on
with your good work of making a name for
your vesse and yourself—a name that will
gain a pardon for Lieutenant Brentford, and
commissions for yourself and our officers.”

“ You are a noble friend, aptain Mere-
dith, and I will do as you say in all things;
but I assure you I feared it would be hard to
remove the brand of infamy from me which
some enemy has put upon me. ”

“ That enemy will track down for you,
as my bri needs repairs, and I will go into
Boston an report to the commandant.”-

“ Will you dare to do so?"

“ Oh. yes, for I can tell him a story that
will prove me uiltless.

“ Now, can lend you any aid from my
vessel or the English cruiser to repair dam-
ages, for you know I sail for port with our
prize."

Mark Monte acce ted certain needed aid,
and a score of goo men from the crew of
the bri , while his wounded were sent to port
with alcolm Meredith.

Then the three vessels swung apart. and
while the schooner hunted a secluded harbor
on the Long Island Coast, to repair damages,
the brig set sail with the English cruiser as
a rize.

aving run into Boston Harbor with his
own vessel dis uised and his prize following,
Malcolm Mere ith at once sought the port.
commandant and for a long time the two
were closeted together.

At last Malcolm Meredith returned to his
vessel, gave certain orders to his first luff,
and then departed for Salem in a small
fishing-smack.

His visit to Clit! Cottage and his words to
Ethel Monte regarding her brother are al-
ready known. ‘

But the Red Don and her midnight rob-
bery of Ezra Vail, and the flight to sea pur-
sued by the Sea Sentinel.

Another chapter must explain that mystery
to my kind reader.

CHAPTER L.
THE rmA'rE’s DOUBLE.
ETBEL MONTE sat in her little parlor one
evenin some two weeks after the de arture

 

of Este le Brentford, and a knock at t e door
startled her.

Opening it she beheld a man whose appear-
ance indicated old age, for he had a gray
beard and long white hair.

Seeing that she was alone the visitor raised
himself from his bent attitude, and removing

. ,.,.§.

. 'v-
,4: ,. ‘, iv
3

 

0 b ‘V an... ”
ta. 

a wig and false beard stood revealed as Mal-
colm Meredith.

A startled cry broke from Ethel’s lips as
she recognized her lover, but he said quick-
] :

y“ Do not be alarmed, Ethel, for I am not
the man I am painted, and I came here to
explain all, and to tell you that you no lon-
ger need fear for your noble brother. .

“Let me begin my story by telling you‘
that some weeks ago I ran across a craft
strangely like my own.

“ A suspicion was in my mind as to what
she was, and I signaled her; but she opened
fire upon me, and I was compelled to hit
back.

“ We had a desperate battle, which ended
in my capture of the vessel.

“That craft fought under a blue flag with
a red dove in the center, and gold wings in
the corners.

“ I fought under a blue flag with a gray
dove in the center, and silver wings in the
corners.

“ The captain of that vessel was mortally
wounded, and I visited him in his cabin.

“ Then I knew and understood all, Ethel.

“I knew that our mother had had twin
boys, but I supposed my brother to be dead.

“ One of us was named Malcolm, the other
Mark, and I was stolen by my nurse, who
pretended to my father, Captain Mountjoy,
that I was dead. '

“ My brother was adopted by a friend of at.
my father, but one whom he left to look '.
after him kidnapped him and raised him on
an island on the coast of Maine.

“ On that island the sailor, who kidnapped
my brother Mark, had been wrecked with
my father, and a treasure was buried there.

“ Into my brother’s ears was poured a tale ;.
of sorrow, of how our mother had been shot 
by pirates who sought our father’s life, and . ,
he had been hanged as a pirate when he was 4..
as innocent of the charge as a child. 

“But Ezra Vail was at the bottom of it '
all, and so my brother was brought up to ,.
hate and reven e. “4.,”

“ He cruise about the world, after the
death of the old sailor, and at last began his
career of revenge. i p

“ Strange to say, the same builder built a ,. 
vessel for him that I got m brig from, and
by a coincidence we both a opted for a flag
a design pricked into our arms as baby boys g
by an old seaman—alike, save a gray dove in t
mine, and silver wings, where his was a red = '
dove and wings of gold. 

“I see that you begin to understand me,
Ethel, but I have more to tell: .-

“ It was my brother who struck those ~ F
blows at Ezra Vail and became the whalers’ 
Nemesis, and he it was who has been the , 
lawless rover. -‘

” He it was who robbed the office of Ezra
Vail, and got with the gold some valuable 
papers, which are now in my possession and
concern you and your brother. « '

“ You remember that three men disap-
peared mysteriously from Salem a shout .
while ago. ‘ 

“They were Ezra Vail, Rupert Vail and 
Justin Laws. 

“ The two former were killed in my action  z
with my brother’s vessel, but the latter is 
my prisoner, and for his confessions he shall ‘1’
go free. 

” M brother intended to execute Ezra ' if
Vail, or be it was who hanged our father, ef-
or .urged the mob to do so, and sought revenge ' ' “‘6' 
because father had been his rival in love, for
the hand of our mother, Ethel.”

“ My mot !" .

“Yes, the sister of the one you deemed
your mother, but who brought you and Mark .
up as her children.

“ But at her death your mother gave on

 

both to her sister, Mrs. Roland Monte. ut a 
she left an enormous fortune, and of this she. ’  :“3'
made you two co-heirs." 

“ A fortune?”

‘j Yes. All this these papers found in Ezra.
Vail’s iron safe make known. He sought to
destroy your brother and have Rupert marry
you. so as to get all of the inhentance.

“ This Justin Laws shall tell you before he
departs for other lands. for he shall go.

“Now to your brother, and the charges
against him.

“Justin Laws has confessed all, and how
he, for Ezra Vail. worked a most damnable
plot to destroy him.

 

 

   

.3,

‘1 
m
.

onto. ther‘Mut

      

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._.- P.

 

.   9-5.: .‘_. , 
ineer.

 

 

 

“ But it failed. for the man they set to do
the work was Burt Brentford, and he is to-
day your brother’s lieutenant on the Black-
bird, privateer.”

Then. to the amazed and delighted girl,
Mark Mountjoy, for such was his name, told
the story of the flight of the Blackbird and
the plot against Mark Monte, and what fol-
lowed.

He told of the death of his brother from
his wound received in action, and how he
had left him his brig and the treasure on the
island on the coast of Maine.

Then he made known how he had visited
the commandant at Boston and surrendered
the brig Red Dove, telling him all, and
proving his own innocence, while he received
a commission as privateersman inthe United
States service. ,

The aid he had rendered Mark Monte on
the schooner he spoke most modestly of, and
he'had told to the proper officials the plot of
Ezra Vail, and how it had failed through the
noble nature of Burt Brentford.

“Now, Ethel," continued Captain Mount-
joy, “I came in disguise to see you. for they
stlll deem me a pirate here; but I will return
here in a few days in my brig, and the com-
mandant is to be my guest, so as to stamp
the char es against me of piracy as false.

“ A s aver I must confess I was for a
while, but my honor rebelled at that heinous
trafficin human beings, and I gave it up.

“ Now I am to cruise the seas as a priva-
teersman, and as my double, my poor
brother Malcolm, is dead, I will no longer
be called a buecaneer.

“ When a pardon is obtained for Brent-
ford, Mark will come into this port with his
vessel, for a commission for him has been
sent for also, and the good people of Salem
will have no cause to be ashamed of their
two privateer craft, I assure you." '

Such was the story of Mark Mountjoy,
who had been a. piratc’s double.

.

CONCLUSION.

Captain Mountjoy kept his word and sailed
into Salem Harbor with the Boston port-
commandant as his guest, and the story be-
coming known of how he had been wronged,
lie was regarded as a hero.

And, a few months after Mark Monte ran
in with the Blackbird. Judge Brentford
was there to greet his son and hand him a
pardon, for his gallant services.

Then came the confession of the youn ‘
sailor of his marriage to pretty Beatrice sag
the regard that his father would give his
wife and little son a. warm place in his heart.

As a proof that he would do so, the 'udgc
and Estelle drove to the home of Burt Brent-
ford’s wife, as soon as the Blackbird had
sailed again to win new honors, and Ethel

' accompanied them.

So to the elegant mansion went Beatrice

and her boy to make it their home, and the

\

   

iudge often said that he did not wonder that
is son, had fallen in love with the beautiful
woman, if she was half as lovely as a girl as
she was as a wife and mother. _ I

With the papers in his possession, Judge
Brentford found no difficulty in securing for
Mark Monte and his sister their large fortune
in trust at the bank. and anxious to leave a
place where she had known so much ofl sor-
row, Ethel gave to old Captain Hudson pretty
Clifl Cottage and purchased a lordiy home in
Boston near the Brentford mansion.

Through the influence of Judge Brentford,
a pardon was obtained for Sam Slick. and
that worthy hied him away to other scenes
to en'oy the mono he had received for aid-
ing urt Brentfor to escape.

Justin Laws, after having made full con-
fession, took a sudden departure from Salem,

and his wife did not accompany him.

As he took all his mone with him, his
wife went to keepin it boarding-house again
and was known as t e “Widow Laws.”

Of the fate of Ezra Vail and his son no one
seemed to ever know, other than the few to
whom Mark Mountjoy had told the story of
their death in his brother’s brig.

Their fortune went to the State as no heirs
were found to claim it.

When the war of 1812 came to a close the
names of Mark Monte and Mark Mountjoy
stood out in bold relief as most daring pri-
vateersmen, and their emcers and crews were
heroes with them. i . ’ .

Though Estelle and Ethel had received

I

sailors t

Double.

scores of brilliant offers. neither had room in
their hearts for other than the two gallant

hey loved so truly, Mark Monte and

Mark Mountjoy, once known as the Mutineer
Marauder and the other as the Pirate’s

THE END.

 

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107
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194 Bull’s

40 Roving Ben.
97 The outlaw Brothers; or. Tho Copiivo oi thoiinrpoo.

87 The Land
187 The llel less Hun
989 The Gol «locker Guide I of. T1" L0“ Moll-hill.

8
.01 Th‘: Phantom Light is
870 Breaker Ben. the Rsoi-Runnor.

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a nuth Al , tho Foothills Guide.
990 Jun-r Joe. oftlio Mountain Mail-Lino.

48 Binok

65 H u r rims no

19 Malt-If Ins-km. Tho King of tho Plains.
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on Icon. the Stoornhoot Bo

Beadle’s Half-Dime library.

 

BY BRACEBHIDGE HEMYNG.

89 Iolnnd Jim: or. The Pet of the Family.
91 The Cnptnin ofthe Club: or The Rivsl Athiotoo.
101 Jack ilnrknwuy in New York.

BY W. J. HAMILTON.

08 The Red Brotherhood; or.The Twolvo Avongoro.
66 Sinfile "and: or, A Life for a Life.
7’ Min Tom Western, tho Tsxnn Ranger.

887 Ben Bird. the Cave King; or, Big Pete’s Scoop.

BY JACK FABRAGUT.

815 Ned. the Cnhin Boy.
1590 The Son Sorceress; or, Tho Boy Skippor.

BY CDLIIN EL BELLE SARA.

108 The Lion ofthe Sen: 0', The Vailod Lody.
180 Cool Desmond: or, Tho Gambler’s Big Guns.

BY JAMES L. BOWEN

I07 "Ire-E ed film: or, The Abandoned Forest Homo.
110 The B uck Steed ofthe Prairies.

A Story 0! Tons.

APT. ALFRED B. TAYLDR. U. 8. A.

191 Bulnlo Billy, tho Boy Bullwhukfl; or. Tho Doomod

n.
lo Blll’. Hot; or. The Gnmbior Guido.

B] JOHN J. MARSHALL.
A Story of a Young American.

BY CAPTAIN MAYNE REID.
"it‘kpor, The Yellow Chief’s Vengeanco.

Irate. or, The Loogus of' Devil’s Island.
t or, Backwoods Retribution.

BY LIEUT. A. K. SIMS.

540 Captain Cactus, the Chlplfflsi Cock.

(:08 The Dandy of Dodge.

The Silver Sport.

588 iiuil’ron Sol. ilie Man With it Shadow.

589 Torn-Cut and

601 Hupg¥J "also, the Dutch Vidocq. or, Rod-Hot Times It.
. p.

Purd; or. The Dead Set at Silver City.

BY “'31. G. PATTEN.

489 The Diamond Sporthor, Tho Doublo Foco of Bod Roch
519 Cu tuln Mystery: 0!.
11% Dire lilo Sport from Denvor.

ve in Ono.

omhoheli, the Ranger Detective.

604 Iron Fern, the Man oi Fire.

BY FRANK DUMoNT.

190 The Branded llnndt or. The Mon of Mystory.
l 7 WildrFIre. tho Boss of the Road

Blue” or Tho Brook 0’. Day Boys of Rocky In.
Don : oril’i'he Riv-l Longuos.
I

we; or. T Vultures oi the Rio Grnndo.

BY ROGER STARBUCK.

.5 The Boy Captain: or, The Pinto’s Doughior.

1 The Block Schooner: or, Jib Junk. tho Old Tor.
9&9 The Golden Hnr oon ; or, Lost Among tho Floss.
84.8 Firefiloelst or, 0 d skinnint, tho Death-Shadow.

orn Ike. the Hill Trump; or, Tho Odd Fords.
- ouse.

BY MAJDR E. L. ST. VBAIN.

8 .
mil 1 vii-atone Bob, and His Lightning Horoo Qnofutto.
859 . omhotono Tom, the Arlsono Boy ot"‘3snd.",

Iii-u Inn-r. the Y uni: ‘rmmv inn V tastier.

the Young Hard-Shell Doioctivo.

BY EDWARD S. ELLIS.

Bill Biddo Tn .
Seth £3513I'? or, TwCaptivu of tho Frontior.

or, Tho Fsto of tho Sioux Csptiro.

a Frontier Angel.

liners; or, Tho Enchanted island.
Hunter ; 'or, Tho Sir-u

BY GEDRGE C. JEN X3.

486 Git Thur 0wney tho Unkimwn.
499 Cit Thor (Iwnoy’s Pledge.
518 The Do oot .

581 Double-Curve Dan. the Pitcher Dmctlu.
593 Flute, the Singer Detective.

non 0'

BY JDBEPH E. BADGER. J3.
wstone Jack: or, Tho Trs r.
John the Kiwi-Agent: or, no OntI-w’o Rotront.
hm. or. Mustonx 8am and His rm.

“3 m, Tho Douuiiior of the Ranch.

.0 VI lit-l

Du‘nty Lulu-o the Boy Span.
l’nuthor P nix or. Dainty Louco to the Roocno.
The Block
lloudl Dnoh or, Fighting Firo with Fire.
The n‘i. ii

Inn" or, D-intv meo in Jeopardy.

on i or, Dniiity Laure on tho War-Path.
Pord-z or. Dainty Lanco Unmuko.

Cale, tho Colihon u! Colostiol City.

fmno. Wolf; or, Tho Beautiful Docoy.
iwk Rldori orll The iiom-Thi-voo’ Loocuo.

y Tru

iMuioi noono's Loot Troll.
vo.

BY EDWARD WILLETT.

sorweilht lilo Boy Chimpion oiiho Mushingnni.
t

 

O
__n

 

I
I
1

l

  

3“"
wk. Ph iglfli f. filo Prints of Chuckoiuek Camp.

A ité‘iooootivo ‘or, Kigrléos en‘s Vondotto.
 ontorflon t or. I ontuo Vigil-nus.

Alf nr, Featherweight Among the Outi'owo.
i‘ypo Dita-“v i M, Wossol. the Boy lump.
or. ’i‘ o Ki 3 of Qiioruvilio.
0

 

BY WILLIA“ P. EYSTER.

190 Dandy Dnrke; or. The Tics-rs of High Pine.
210 Faro Frank; or, Dandy Darke's Gu-Down Pnrds

BY J. C. (20“'DRICK.
800 sllvchfllggk, the Man at Mystery.

869 Shunt“, the Gold king; or, For Seven Years Dead.
490 The Detective’s Apprentice: or, A Buy Without a

sme.
4941 Cibutn John; or. Red-Hot Times at Auto Bar.

489 Sandy Sam. the Street Scout.

46'? Disco Dan. the Daisy Dude.

490 Broadway Bill . the Hontblnck Bravo.

506 Iledli Iii. Ilui , the Prime oi the Road.

514 Bron wuy Bi l "in Boodle.

524 The Engineer I eta-live.

538 Broadway Billy’s Humidity.”

54“ Mart, the Night Express Detective.

557 Iii-omiwny Billy‘s Death Racket.

 Ali-12:1; Luke the Youngl Engiueri.

r " o ‘ liinoy Spy; or, irosdwsy Bill ’s Sur rise-Part .
592 The Boy Pinkerton. y P y
605 “' iillnin 0’ Brondwuy; 0r, The Boy Dried-Wt" Bill Inning-

BY C. DUNNING CLARK.

185 Captain Paul; or, The Boy Spy oi the Mountains.
“0 The Yankee Rajah; or. The Fate of the Block Sheroof.

BY CAPT. MARK “'ILTON.
’56 Young Kontuok: or, The Red Lane.
.70 Blizzard Benz or, The Riot ot Ksno Camp.
986 J ooh. the Boy Tenderi’oot.

BY LIEUT. II. D. PERRY. U. S. N.

178 The Boy Runaway; or. The Bucrsneor of the Boy.
1830 The Sea Trailer: of. A Vow Well Kept.
19’ Captain Kit: 01', The Mystery of Montnuk Point.

HY "AH RY HAZARD.
8.8 Ark-noaw Jack: or, The Scourge of the Mines.
829 Red-Skin Tom or, Tho Demon’s Trail.
842 The Mountain Devil: or, Yellow Jack, the Outlaw.

BY COL. A. I“. HOLT.

899 Black Buckskin: or. The Muiiod Men of booth Canyon.
419 Kenneth, the Knife-King.
485 Little Lighti'oot. the Pilot of the Wood‘.

BY J. \V. DSBCN.

469 The Rival Giants ofNowhnr'.
49S Cactus Burr, tho Mun imin iisrd Luck.
587 Did Buoko e. the Sierra Shndow.
564 Powder Phil. the Boy Minor.

BY FREDERICK DEWEY.
818 Cimnrron Jnek, the King-Pin of Ride-Shots.
418 Tangomund, the Desert Dotoctive.
549 The Canyon Purdo.

BY ARTHUR C. 911158031.

440 Little Foxfoot, the Gold Bowio Kid.
558 The Sure-Shot. Pnrds.

BY CHARLES E. LABALLE.

50 Hurt. Bunker, the Trflpper.
59 The White Buifnlo. A Tole of the Northwoot,

BY CAPTAIN FRED. WHITTAKER.

15 The Fen-(lat; or, The Witch of Dorian.
39 The Dumb Paige or. The Doge’s Daughter.
48 Dick Darling. t o my Exprooo Rider.
150 Lance and Lot-no; or, Tim Children of tho Choco.
154 The Swiird Ilnnters: or. The Loud oiths lie but Riders.
159 The gals-tyrants“; or. Skippor John Coflln's nitso to tho
,n 0 ll‘ - on.
.00 T (9 Boy Bedouin-3 or, The Brothers of tho Plumod Loneo.
I14 “'oli' illi., tho Robber of the Rhino.
.49 lid“: lolner, tho Animol King; or, Tho Round tho World
’sn sror.
.65 The TI or Turner: or. Tho Looguo oi tho Jungio.
381 Block ick. the Demon Ridor.
895 California Jon’s War Troll.

BY MAJCR LE“’IS W. CARSON.

.78 The Three Trapper-g or, The Mountain Mon-tor.
988 Indinn Jooi or. in White Spirit of the Hills.

MISCELLAN ECUS AUTHCRS.

4 The “'ild-llorse Hunters. By Coot. Moyno Bold and
Frederick Whittoker.

0 Adv sutures of Baron Honcho-son.

'Iver’o Travel-i. By Dan sum.

14 Aladdin; or, The Wonderful Lamp.

10 llohnnun Crusoe. (91 lilultrotiono.)

18 Sindhnd the Sailor. His Seven Vernon.

99 The Ben Serpent: or, Tho Boy Rob noon Crnooo. Dy Jun

Lewis.

88 The Doenn Bloodhound; or, The Rod Pinto: or th-
Csrrlhoos. B S. . orco.

86 'g‘hl‘oi Boy down; or, Tho Qnoon o! the Aron. By Frank
. nn. ‘

8! Ned Wyldo. tho Boy Scout. 3 Tons Jock.

51 The Boy Rifles; or. Tho Un orground Comp. By Archio

-. ram.
95 The Riv-i Rovers: or. Tho Froohootors of tho Mississippi.
By Llama-Col. Hmltliio.
98 Robin Hood. tho Untiswod In]; or,Tlio Merry Mon of Croon-
wood. 3 Prof Gildonloovo.
105 Old Rho, tho Hnntor; or, The Crow Cootlvo. Bndploln
ir-lainiitnn Hoimoo.
11. 'll‘ho Mud [In-tor; or, Tho Covo of bath. By Burton Sons.
194 'li‘ippy. tho Tex-o: or, Tho Young Chmplon. Dy Goorgo

.3looson.
198 The Youn Privotoor; or, Tho Photo‘s Stronghold. Dy
Hurry ovon .
148 Shnrp Bans; or, Tho Advooturoo of. Madison Boy. I, J,
. port or. Tho Groon Bangor ofth. mil.

"1 lA’ioxlolndor Potion“. T
o rt:
lov'nion’omwnrd .
Now Yak Boy. By Goonol.
on.
900 Kilih’nr. the Guido; nr,Dovy Crochott'o 0mm Tun.

901 Porno Four-ought. tho
By lmi C. D. Irron.

on Bed of}. the Ono-Ir“ Tumor. on?!" Moidoltho cur.
By Coptoln Cami.

.11 Peuuk P“... the Livoly Lad from Loodviiio. By Lion-
tonont Aiirod Them.

898 The Sky Defective; or, A Boy'o Fight for Lilo and Bones.

‘ B Mnior Mickey I'm.

.50 ed Ralph. the River Rover; or. Tho Brothor’o lo-
unge. By Nod Bun ilino.

85. Baltimore Ben tho Boothlsci: Do yo. By A. P. I“

.74 Gold-Dust Torn; or, Ben’s Doubio notch. Dy Congo 8.

Mono.
.7“ Collhrnio Joe’s Fir-oi Troll. By Colo“! M
on nihqimmi. ii a carcii r ’i r s was.
on C m 0' n o
on 'riie'niuei. sifi ‘. _ nhnLWmor.’ ""
484 Comanche moi: old nu Three Invinothol. In
on W?" ‘i‘i"’""'.. o. a s Arthan mm.
‘.P ' I"! E D V o
:89 The (‘owho ’Duke. 9y max“. l‘orloot.
u! Ariel ii... At Me. 39mm Droid.
585 Will Water-n, tho Boy Parrot. By H. Eaton.

A. Now lone Every Tuesdny.
The llnli" Dino Lihrnry Is for No by oil now-donorng
oonto pd copy, or soul. by nail on rreoipt of six conto such.
amour AND Alums, Pnhliohoro.

 

 

98 William Strut. New York.  '

    
 

is

 

 

 

r,»

n...

 

 

    
  

 

Published Every lVednesday. Each Issue Complete and Sold at the Uniform Price of Ten Cents. No Double Numbers.

 

 

 

1*

BY \VILLIAM R. EYSTEB.

145 Pistol Pards; or. The SilentSport from Cinnabar.
160 Soft Hand. Sharp: or, The Man with the Sand.
. - 182 Hands Up; or, The Knights of the Canyon.
. 192 The Lightning Sport.
5 211 The Two Cool Sports: or. Gertie of the Gulch.
2.29 Captain Cutsleeve; or. The Little Sport.
268 Magic Mike. the Man of Frills.
300 A Sport in Spectacles; or, The Bad Time at
Bunco.
3‘33 Derringer Dick. the Man with the Drop.
344 Double Shot Dave of the Left Hand.
356 Tim e Handsome Sports; or, The Double Com
bination.
375 Royal Geor e, the Three in One.
396 The Piper etective.
402 Snapshot Sam: or, The Angels‘ Flat Racket.
429 Hair Trigger Tom of Red Bend.
459 Major Sunshine. the Man of Three Lives.
478 Pinnacle Pete; or. The Fool from Way Back.
503 The Dude from Denver.
525 Fresh Frank. the Derringer Daisy.
533 Oregon. the Sport Vl‘ithaScar.

BY CAPTAIN MAYNE REID.
8 The Headless Horseman; A Strange Story of

exas.
12 The Death-Shot: or. Tracked to Death.

55 The Scalp Hunters. A Romance of the Plains.
66 The Specter Barque. A Tale of the Pacific.

74 The Captain of the Rifles; or, The Queen of the

es.
200 The Rifle Rangers; 01-. Adventures in Mexico.
208 The White Chief. A Romance of Northern Mex-

100.

213 The War Trail: or. The Hunt of the Wild Horse.

213 The Wild Huntress; or, The Squatter’s Yen-
geance

228 The Maroon. A Tale of Voodoo and Obeah.

234 The Hunter‘s Feast.

267 The White Squaw.

BY CAPT. FRED. “'HIT'I‘AKER.

39 The Russtan Spy; or. The Starry Cross Brothers.
65 The Red Rajah; or, The Scour e of the Indies.
’ 69 The Irish Captain. A Tale of ontenoy.
 96 Double Death; or. The Spy of W oming.
 98 The Rock Rider; or. The Spirit 0 the Sierra.
 108 The Duke of Diamonds.
'1 115 Tia; Severed Head; or, The Secret of Castle
.- oucy.
m 132 Nemo. King of the Tramps.
159 Red Rudiger. the Archer.
174 The Phantom Knights.
187 The Death’s Head Cuirassiers.
' 193 The Man in Red.
‘ 206 One Eye. the Cannoneer.
211 Colonel Plunger; or The Unknown Sport.
215 Parson J im. King of the Cowboys.
226 The Mad Hussars; or, The 0's and the Mac’s.
239 The Flying Dutchman of 1880.
‘ 2 The Fog Devil; or The Skipper of the Flash.
247 Alli ator Ike: or. The Secret of the Eve lade.
253 A ankee Cossack; or.The Queen of the ihiiists.
265 Old Double-Sword; or. Pilots and Pirates.
272 Seth Slocum. Railroad Surveyor.
277 The Saucy Jane. Privateer.
$4 The Three Frigates; or. Old Ironsides' Revenge.
290 The Lost Corvette: or, Blakeley‘s Last Cruise.
295 Old Cross-Eye. the Maverick-Hunter.
303 Top-Notch Tom, the Cowboy Outlaw.
310 The Marshal of Satanstown; or. The Cattle-
Lil’ters’ League.
326 The Whitest Man in the Mines.
378 John Armstron . Mechanic.
406 Old P0 Hicks. howman.
412 Larry ocke. the Man of Iron.
445 Journeyman John, the Champion.

 

.  - r' BY 0].]. COOMES.

7 Death-Notch. the Destroyer.

3 V 43 Dakota Dan. the Reckless r.

 

;’ 44 Old Dan Raokh the Great Exterminator.
 ._ 46 Bowie-Knife Be he Nor’west Hunter.
.y; 48 idaho Tom. the oung Outlaw 0t Silverlald.

51 Red Rob. the Boy Road- at.

99 The Giant Rifleman: or. ild Camp Lite.
137 Long Beard. the Giant Spy.
148 One-Armed Alt, the Giant Hunter.

v

 

BY ANTHONY P. MORRIS.

5 The Fire Fiends; or. Hemules. Hunchback.

95 Azhort. the Axman; or. The Palace Secrets.
. 100 The French Spy; or. The Bride of Paris.

. . ’ 187 The Mano! Steel. Tale of Love and Terror.
‘. I 185 Man 8 ider; or. The Beautiful 8 hinx.
. 238 Rank ound the Crescent City tective.

. 260 The Masked Mgflery; or The Black Crescent.
l V 288 Electromm eMan otli‘ire
» 306 The Roughs of Richmond.
813 Mark Magic. vs.

3'34 Tut? Clipher Detective;’ or, Mark Maglc‘s New

rai
348 The Head Hunter; on Mark .
357 Jack Simons. Demon". We in the Min.

118 The Sea Slipper: or, The Freebootcrs.

118 The Burglar Captain: or. The Fallen Star.
314 Lafitte' or. The Pirate oi’ the Gun,

816 Lafitte’s Lieutenant; or. Child of the sea.

 

BY GEORGE C. JENKS.

i ' l? 398 Sleepless E e, the Pacific Detective.
i1.  ' 432 The Giant orseman.
"9 . 50? The Drummer Detective.

_ 526 Death-Gri . the Tenderfoot Detective.
 l ' 538 Rub. Roe 9t. the Tent Detective.

 

BY J. C. CO‘YDBICK. l

390 The Giant Cupid: or Cibuta John‘s Jubilee.
422 Blue Grass Burt. the Gold Star Detective.
436 Kentucky Jean, the S ort from Yellow Pine.
452 Rainbow Rob. the Tulip from Texas.

473 Gilbert of Gotham, the Steel-arm Detective.
499 Twilifiht Charlie. the Road Sport.

519 Old iddles, the Rocky Ranger.

BY CAPTAIN MARK WILTON.

176 Lady Jaguar. the Robber Queen.

194 Don Sombrero. the California Road Gent.
202 Cactus Jack. the Giant Guide.

219 The Scor )ion Brothers; or. Mad Tom’s Mission.
223 Canyon ave, the Man of the Mountain.

227 Buckshot Ben, the Man-Hunter of Idaho.
237 Long-Haired Max; or, The Black League.
245 liarranca Bill, the Revolver Champion

m Bullet Head, the Colorado Bravo.

263 lromArmed Abe. the Hunchback Destroyer.
266 Leopard Luke the King of Horse-Thieves.
271 Stoneflst. of Big Nugget Bend.

276 Texai Chick. the Southwest Detective.

285 Lightning Bolt. the Canyon Terror.

291 HorseshOe Hank. the Man of Big Luck.

305 Silver-Plated Sol, the Montana Rover.

311 Heavy Hand; or, The Marked Men.

323 Hotspur Hugh; or. The Banded Brothers.

BY S 1M 8. HALL— “ Buckskin Sam.”

3 Kit Carson, Jr.. the Crack Shot.
90 Wild Will. the Mad Ranchero.
178 Dark DashwoOd. the Desperate.
186 The Black Bravo; or. The Tonkaway’s Triumplh.
191 The Terrible Tonkaway; or, Old Rocky and is

Pards. '
195 The; Bone Star Gambler; or. The Magnoha’s
ll a1 .
199 Diamond Dick. the Dandy from Denver.
201 Big Foot Wallace, the King of. the Lariat.
212 The Brazos Tigers- or. file Minute Men.
217 The Serpent of El Paso; or. Frontier Frank.
221 Des .rate Duke. the Guadeloupe “Galoot.”
2 5 Rue y Mountain Al; rr, The W art of the Range.
239 The Terrible Trio; or. The Angel 01’ the Army.
244 Merciless Mart. the Man Tiger of Missouri.
250 The Rough Riders; or. Sharp E e. the Scourge.
256 Double Dan, the Dastard; or, T e Pirates.
264 The Crooked Three.
#59 The Bayou Bravo; or. The Terrible Trail.
278 Mountain MOSe. the Gorge Outlaw.
282 The Merciless Marauders: or. Carl’s Revenge.
287 Dandy Dave and his Horse, White Stocking.
293 Stampede Steve; or. The Doom of the Double

ace.
301 Rowlder Bill; or. The Man from Taos.

309 Raybold. the Battling Ranger.

322 The Crimson Coyotes; or. Nita. the Nemesis.
328 King Kent; or. The Bandits of the Bason.
342 Blanco Bill, the Mustang Monarch.

358 The Prince of Pan Out.

371 Gold Buttons; or, The Up Range Pards.

511 Paint Pete, the Prairie Patrol.

BY DR. J. H. ROBINSON.
13 Pathaway; or, Nick Whitfles. the old Nor'west

Trap r.
17 Ni hts ade; or. The Robber Prince.
22 W itelaw; or. Nattie of the Lake Shore.
37 Hirl, the Hunchback; or, The Santee Sword-

maker.
58 Silver Knife; or. The Rocky Mountain Bangor.
70 H drabad. the Stran ler.
73 9 Knights of the d Cross; or. The Granada
Magician. ’
163 Ben Brion; or. Redpath. the Avenger.

BY mason nanonnmnnn nuns.

92 Buflalo Bill. the Buckskin King.
117 Das g Dandy; or. The Hot ur of the Hills.
Crimson the Man of he Iron Face.
156 Ve vet ace the rder Bravo.
175 Wild. , l‘s Trump Card; or, The Indian Heiress.
188 The Phantom Maze pa: or. The Hyena.
448 Harkjfienton. the tor.

BY MAJOQ DANIEL BOONE BUMON'I‘.

888 Silver Salt. the Detective.
889 Colonist bio-Edge. the Cattle Baron‘s Pard.
e W i .H k; or. Old Hark}s Fortress.
an The Old 1- Sport; or. A Man of Honor.
439 ilalamand Sam. '
54 The Night Raider.

Sandvcrawr‘the Man of Grit.
we Topnotcn Tom. the Mad Parson.

 

int COLONEL nanny sans.

53 Silver Sam; 02‘. The‘Mystery of Deadwood City.
87 The Scarlet Captain; or. Prisoner of the Tower.
106 Shamus O’Brien. the 13on Boy of Glingal.

BY GEORGE ST. GEORGE.

296 Duncan the Sea Diver ' .
417 Tucson Tom; or. The Fire Trailers.

BY GUSTAVB A Ill ABB.

15 The Tiger Slayer; or. Eagle Heart to the Rescue,

19 Red Cedar, the Prairie Outlaw.

20 The Bandit at Bay; or. The Prairie Pirates.

21 The Trap r's Daughter; or, The Outlaw’s Fate,

24 Prairie F ower. . r

62 Loyal Heart: or.The Trappers of Arkanns.
if!) Th}: Border Mac. A, Tale of the Texan War.

BY NE‘VTON M. CURTISS.

120 The Texan Spy; or. The Prairie Guide.
254 Giant Jake. the Patrol of the Mountain.

BY FRANCIS JOHNSON.

25 The Gold Guide' or. Steel Arm, Regulator.

26 The Death Track; or, The Mountain Outlaws.

123 Alapaha the Squaw; or. The Border Renegades.

121 Assowaum the Avenger; or, The Doom of the
Destroyer. .,

135 The Bush Ranger: or. The Half-Breed Rajah. -

136 The Outlaw Hunter; or. The Bush Ranger. 5"

138 The Border Bandit; or. The Horse Thief‘s Trail ‘ "

BY 0. DUNNING CLARK. 

164 The Kin ’s Fool.
183 Gilbert t e Guide.

BY COL. THOMAS H. MONS'I‘EBY.

82 Iron Wrist. the Swordmaster.

126 The Demon Duelist: or. The Lea ue of Steel.
143 The Czar’s Spy; or, The Nihilist eague.

150 El Rubio Bravo. King of the Swordsmen.

157 Mourad. the Mameluke; or, The Three Sword-

masters.
169 Corporal Cannon. the Man 01' Forty Duels, ,
236 Champion Sam; or. The Monarchsot the Show I

262 Fighting Tom. the Terror of the Toughs.
332 Spring-Heel Jack; or, The Masked Mystery. f.

BY ISAAC HAWKS. Ex-Detectivc.

232 Orson On; or, The River Mystery.
240 A Cool Head; or, Orson Oxx in Peril.

BY NED BUNTLINE.
14 Thayendancgea,the Scourge - or. The War-Eagle.
16 The White Wizard; or. The Seminole Prophet.
18 The Sea Bandit; or. The Queen of the Isle.
23 The Red Warrior; or, The Comanche Lover.
61 Captain Seawaif. the Privateer.
111 The Smuggler Captain; or, The Skipper‘s Crime.
122 Saul Sabberday. t e Idiot 
270 Andros. the Rover; or. The ‘rate‘s Daughter.
361 Tombstone Dick. the Train Pilot. -
517 Buffalo Bill’s First Trail.

BY E. A. ST. MOX.

471 The Heart of Oak Detective. , . .
491 Zigzag and Cutt. the Invincible Detectives. ,l‘

BY EDWARD WILLETT. 3 .

129 Mimissippi Mose; or, a Stro Man's Sacrifice.
209 Buck Farley. the Bonanza nce.

222 Bill the Blizzard; or. Red Jack’s Crime.

248 Montana Nat. the Lion of Last Chance Camp.
274 Flush Fred. the Mississippi Sport.

289 Flush Fred‘s Full Hand.

298 Logger Lem; or. Life in the Pine Woods.

308 Hemlock Hank. Tough and True.

315 Flush Fred’s Double: or. The Squatters’ League.
327 Terrapin Dick, the Wild wood Detective.

337 Old Gabe, the Mountain Tramp.

348 Dan Dillon. King of Crosscut.

368 The Canyon King: or. a Price on his Head. 3
483 Flush Fred. the River Sharp.

BY PERCY B. ST. JOHN.

57 The Silent Hunter. ' .iv
86 The Big Hunter: or. The Queen of the Woods.

MISCELL muons. f 

6 Wildcat Bob. By Edward L. Wheeler. v - 
9 Handy Andy By Samuel Lover. - 3
10 Vid . the French Police Spy. By himsel. .
11 Midshipman Easy. 13% 03min Marryatt.
32 B'hoys of Yale: or, T e rapes of Collegians.
By John D. Vose.
60 Wide Awake. the Robber King. By F. Dumont. _
68 The Fighting Trapper. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams. g.
76 The Queen’s Musketeers. By George Albany.
78 The Mysterious S y. EV Arthur M. Grainger.
102 The Masked Ran . By George L. Aiken.
110 The Silent Rifleman. By H. W. Herbert.
125 The Blacksmith Outlaw. By H. Ainsworth.
133 Body the Rover. By William Carleton.
140 The Three Spaniards. B Geo. Walker. ,
144 The Hunchback 01' Nutre ame. By Victor Hugo. ‘
146 The Doctor Detective. By Ge ‘

 

 

,orge Lemuel.
152 Calcium Ironnerve. the Com terfeiter Chief.
158 The Doomed Dozen. By Dr. Frank POWeil.

.156 Owlet. the Robber Prince. By S. R. Urban.
179 Conrad. the Convict. By Prof. Gildersleevc. ‘ "I
190 The Three Guardsmen. By‘AIexander Dumas.

261 BlackYSladm, the Prairie underbolt. By 00]. ‘ '

a 5. ~
275 The Smuggler Cutter. By J. D. Conro . ‘ - F 
312 Kinkl‘oot Karl. the Mountain Scourge. By Mor-

ris Rodwing.
8m CopColt.the Quaker City Detective. C. Morris. _ s
350 Flfimbggtifon. the Society Detective. y Weldon '

. . i
353 Bart Brennan; or. The King 0! Straight Flush. .v
Bv John Cuthhert. “ 1
$6 Tlfie Telegraph Detective. By George Hairy
cm. I - *
410 Sarah Brown, Detective. By K. F. Hill. , ' _ ,.
500 The True-Heart Panda By Dr. Noel Dunbar. ’ , ’l
513 Born! Richard. the Thoroughbred. By J. W. , ‘

sbon.
528 Huckleberry. the Foot-Hills Detective. By

 

Lieut A. K. Sims.
534 Green Mountain Joe; or. The Countcrtciter‘s
Cave. By uke . ‘

A new We every Wednesday.
Beadle’s Dime Library is for sale by all
ten cents

Stine York. " ‘

 

tors. AS ottheTeunW .
mTheWhitsscalper, m  3' p

9.13", r . or sent 1) mall
and .ot twelve cents gen. Iguana Jana?
MW 1:. New I g ..

\

 

‘.,, ,{Fx‘xu A

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' «.14.
.1 Yuma

(can... N ‘g H .11.... .
RY.

Published Every Wednesday. Each Issue Complete and Sold at the Uniform Price of Ten Cents. No Double Numbers.

 

 

BY COL. PBEN'I‘ISS INGRAIIAM.

2 The Dare Devil; or, The Winged Sea Witch.
, 85 The Cretan ROVer; or. Zuleikah the Beautiful.
v. 89 The Pirate Prince; or. The Queen of the Isle.
" 94 Freelance. the Buccaneer.
 103 Merle, the Mutineer; or. The Red Anchor Brand.
'3 104 Montezuma. the Merciless.
. . 109 Captain Kyd. the King of the Black Flag.
 116 Black Plume; or. The Sorceress of Hell Gate.
121 The Sea Cadet; or, The Rover of the Rigoletts.
1% The Chevalier Corsair; or. The Heritage.
18] Buckskin Sam. the Texas Trailer.
~.; 134 Darkey Dan, the Colored Detective.
*f 139 Fire E e; or. The Bride of a Buccaneer.
147 Gold pur. the Gentleman from Texas.
155 The Corsair Queen: or, The Gypsies of the Sea.
162 The Mad Mariner; or. Dishonored and Disowned
168 Wild Bill, the Pistol Dead Shot.
172 Black Pirate; or The Golden Fetters Mystery.
177 Don Diablo. the Planter—Corsair.
181 The Scarlet Schooner; or. The Sea Nemesis.
184 The Ocean Vampire; or. The Castle Heiress.
? 189 Wild Bill‘s Gold Trail; or. The Desperate Dozen.
j 198 The Skeleton Schooner; or. The Skimmer.
.1! 205 The Gambler Pirate; or. Lady of the Lagoon.
if" 210 Buccaneer Bess. the Lioness of the Sea.
216 The Corsair Planter; or. Driven to Doom.
 220 The Spectcr Yacht; or. A Brother’s Crime.
4.  224 Black Beard. the Buccaneer.
. 1‘ ' $1 The Kid Glove Miner; or. The Magic Doctor.
235 Bed Lightning the Man of Chance.
246 gueen Helen. the Amazon of the Overland.
255 he Pirate Priest; or. The Gambler’s Dau hter.

31"- u

if, 259 Cutlass and Cross; or, the Ghouls of the l a.

it. _ 281 The Sea Owl; or. The Lady Captain of the Gulf.
 l 807 The Phantom Pirate; or, The ’ ater Wolves.
 818 The indian buccaneer; or. The Red Rovers.

y» it, 825 The Gentleman Pirate: or. The Casco Hermits.

',V 829 The League of Three: or. Butfalo Bill’s Pledge.
'. . 386 The Magic Ship; or. Sandy Hook Freebooters.
.~  341 The Sea Desperado.
r . 846 Ocean Guerrillas; or. Phantom Midshi man.
" ' 362 Buffalo Bill’s Grip; or Oath Bound to uster.
864 The Sea Fugitive; or, The Queen of the Coast.
369 The Coast Corsair: or, The Siren of the Sea.
378 Sailor of Fortune; or, The Barne at Buccaneer.
377 Afloat and Ashore: or. The Corsa r Cons irator.
888 The Giant Buccaneer: or. The Wrecker itch.
398 The Convict Ca tian.
899 The New Monte risto.
418 The Sea Siren: or. The Fugitive Privateer.
425 The Sea Sword; or. The Ocean Rivals.
480 The Fatal Frigate- or. Rivals in Love and War.
‘,  435 The One-Armed uccaneer.
  446 Ocean 0 re, the Outcast Corsair.
c 457 The Sea nsurgent.
., _ 469 The Lieutenant Detective.
~. 476 Bob Brent. the Buccaneer.
482 Ocean Tram .
489 The Pirate unter
493 The Scouts of the Sea.
 . 5l0 El Moro, the Corsair Commodore.
 , 515 Chatard, the Dead-Shot Duelist.
‘ ‘ 524 The Sea Chaser; or. The Pirate Noble.
580 The Savages of the Sea.
540 The Fleet Scourge; or, The Sea Wings of Salem.

 

 

 

BY WILLIAM II. MANNING.
279 The Gold Dragoon. or. The California Blood-
h

ound.
297 Colorado Rube. the Strong Arm of Hotspur.
885 Wild Dick Turpin the Leadville Lion.
405 Old Baldy. the Brigadier of Buck Basin.
415 Hot Heart, the De tive S y.
427 The Rivals of Montana Mil .
487 Does) Duke: or, The Man of Two Lives.

West Walt. the Mountain Veteran.

449 Blufl Burke, Kin of the es.
455 Yank Yellowbl . the Tall Hustler of the Hills.
468 Gold Gauntlet. the Gulch Gladiator.
470 The Duke of Dakota.
479 Gladiator Gabe, the Samson of Sassaiack.
485 Kansas Kitten. the Northwest Detect ve.
492 Border Bullet. the Prairie Sharpshooter.
Central Pacific Paul. the Mail Train Spy.
Uncle Honest. the Peacemaker of Hornets‘ Nest.
Texas Tartar. the Man With Nine Lives.
521 Paradise Sam. the Nor’-West Pilot.
581 Saddle-Chief Kit. the Prairie Centaur.
539 Old Doubledark. the Wily Detective.

5 BY CAPTAIN HOWARD HOLMES.

278 Hercules Goldspur the Man of the Velvet Hand.
294 Broadcloth Burt. the Denver Dandy.
821 California Claude, the Lone Bandit.
885 Flash Dan. the Nabob; or. Blades of Bowie Bar.
840 Cool Conrad. the Dakota Detective.
847 Denver Duke. the Man with “ Sand.”
352 The Desperate Dozen.
855 Keen Kennard. the Shasta Shadow.
374 Major Blister. the Sport of Two Cities.
$2 The Ben Band: or Dread Don of Cool Clan.
892 The L t H snza: or. The. Boot of Silent Hound.
400 Cap Coldgrip: or. The New York Spotter.
40? Captain Coldgrip’s Nerve; or. Injun Nick.
418 Captain Coldgrip in New York.
42! Father Ferret. the Frisco Shadow.
454 Lucifer Lynx. the Wonder Detective.
441 The California Sharp.
447 Volcano. the Frisco Spy.
458 Captain Coldgrip's Long Trail.
450 Captain Coldgrip. the Detective.
458 Coldgrlp in Deadwood.
4m Hawkspear. the Man with a Secret.
487 Sunshine Sam. a Chip of the Old Block.
V \ 495 Richard Redilre. the Two Worlds’ Detective.
l 505 Phil Fox. the Genteel Spotter.
512 Captain Velvet’s Big Stake. '
I” Reynsrd of Red Jack; or. The Lost Detect".
552 Jack Jsvsrt. the independent Detective.

 

 

 

BY ALBERT W. AIKEN.

27 The Spotter Detective: or. Girls of New York.
31 The New York Shail‘p; or. The Flash of Lightning.
33 Overland Kit; or. he lay] of White Pine.
34 Rocky Mountain Rob. the California Outlaw.
35 Kentuck. the Sport: or. Dick Talbot of the Mines.
36 Injun Dick: or. The Death-Shot of Shasta.
38 Velvet Hand; or. in uu Dick‘s Iron Grip.
41 Gold Dan: or. The hite Savage of Salt Lake.
42 The California Detective: or. The Witches of N.Y.
49 The Wolf Demon; or. The Kanawha Queen.
56 The Indian Mazeppa; or. Madman of the Plains.
59 The Man from iexas; or. The Arkansas Outlaw.
63 The Winged Whale: or. The Red Rupert of Gulf.
:3 The Phantom Hand: or The. 5th Avenue Heiress.
75 Gentleman George: or. Parlor. Prison and Street.
77 The Fresh of Frisco; or. The Heiress.
79 Joe Phenix. the Police Sp .
81 The Human Tiger: or. A Heart of Fire.
84 Hunted Down: or. The League of Three.
91 The Winnin Oar: or. The Innkeeper‘s Daughter.
93 Captain Dic Talbot. King of the Road.
97 Bronze Jack. the California Thoroughbred.
181 The Man from New York.
107 Richard Talbot. of Cinnabar.
112 Joe Phenix. Private Detective.
130 Captain Volcano or. The Man of Red Revolver.
16] The Wolves of New York; or. J0e Phenix‘s Hunt.
173 California John. the Pacific Thoroughbred.
196 La Marmoset. the Le tective Queen.
203 The Double Detective: or.The Midnight Mystery.
2 The Wall Street lilood: or. The Telegraph Girl.
320 The Gentl-el Spotter: or The N. Y. Night Hawk.
849 Iron-Hearted Did it. the Gentleman Road—Agent.
354 Red Richard; 0i the Crimson Cross Brand.
363 Crowningshleld. the Detective
870 The Dusky Detective: or. Pursued to the End.
376 Black Beards: 0i. The Rio Grande Hi h Horse.
381 The Gypsy Gentleman; or Nick Fox. elective.
384 Injun Dick. Detective: or. Tracked to New York.
391 Kate Scott. the Decoy Detective.
408 Doc Grip. the Vendetta of Death.
419 The Bat 01’ the Battery ; or. Joe Phenix. Detective.
425 The Lone Hand; or, The Red River Recreants.
440 The High Hor e of the Pacific.
461 The Fresh on the Rio Grande.
465 The Actor Detective.
475 Chin Chin. the Chinese Detective.

1490 The Lone Hand in Texas.

497 The Fresh iil Texas.

520 The Lone Hand on the Caddo.

529 The Fresh ill New York.

587 Blake thfdMouniain Lion; or. The Fresh against
e le

BY JOSEPH E. BADGER, JR.

28 Three-Fingered Jack. the Road-Agent.
80 Gospel George; or. Fler Fred. the Outlaw.
40 Lon -Haired Pards; or. he Tarters of the Plains.
45 Old uil’erye, the Lightning Shot.
47 Pacific Pete. the Prince of the Revolver.
50 Jack Rabbit. the Prairie S rt.
64 Double-Si ht, the Death S ot.
67 The Boy ockey; or, Honesty vs. Crookedness.
71 Captain Cool Blade: or. Mississippi Man Shark.
88 Big George; or. The Five Outlaw Brothers.
105 Dan Brown 01' Denver: or. The Detective.
119 Alabama Joe: Or. The Yazoo Man-Hunters.
127 l Scott. the Masked Miner.
141 uinox Tom. the Bully of Red Rock.
154 Joaquin. the Saddle King.
165 Joaquin. the Terrible
170 Sweet William. the Trapper Detective.
180 Old ‘49; or. The Amazon of Arizona.
197 Revolver Rob: or, The Belle of Nugget Cam .
201 Pirate of the Placers; or. Joaquin’s Death unt.
238 The Old Boy of Tombstone.
241 Spitfire Saul. Kin of the Rustlers.
249 Elephant Tom. 0 Durango.
257 Death Trap Diggings; or, A Hard Man from
’Way Back.
288 Sleek Sam, the Devil of the Mines.
286 Pistol Johnny; or, One Man in a Thousand.
292 Moke Homer, the Boss Roustabout.
302 Faro Saul. the Handsome Hercules.
817 Frank Lightfoot. the Miner Detective.
824 Old Forked Lightning. the Solita .
831 Chlspa Charle . the Gold Nugget port.
839 Spread Eagle . the Hercules Hide Hunter.
845 Masked Mark. the Mounted Detective. ‘
851 Nor‘ West Nick. the Border Detective.
855 Stormy Steve. the Mad Athlete.
360 Jumping Jerry. the Gamecock from Sundown.
867 A Royal Flush: or. Dan Brown’s Big Game.
872 Captain Crisp. the Man with a Record.
879 Howling Jonadlan. the Terror from Headwaters.
887 Dark Durg. the Ishmael of the Hills.
895 Deadly Aim. the Duke of Derringers.
408 The Nameless Sport.
409 Rob Roy Ranch: or. The Imps of Pan Handle.
416 Monte Jim. the Black Sheep of Bismarck.

425 The Ghost Detective; or. The Spy of the Secret
Service. "

488 Laughing Leoz. or. Sam‘s Dandy Pard.
438 Oklahoma Nick.
443 A Cool Hand; or. Pistol Johnny's Picnic.
450 The Rustler Detective.
458 Dutch Dan. the Pilgrim from Spitzenberg.
465 Old Rough and Ready, the Sage of Sundown.
474 Daddy Dead-Eye. the Despot of Dew Drop.
488 The Thoroughbred Sport.
495 Rattlepatc Rob; or. The Roundhesd’s Beprisal.
504 Solemn Saul. the Sad Man from San Saba.
514 Gabe Gunn. the Giuly from Ginseng.
527 Dandy Andy. theDlamond Detective.
585 Dandy Dutch. the Decorator from 
r t the Man of Nerve' or 'Be Muck-
” "new ....... i v
\

 

BY LEON LEWIS.

428 The Flying Glim; or. The Island Lure.

455 The Demon Steer.

481 The Silent Detective; or. The Bogus Nephew. .
484 Captain Ready, the Red Ransomer.

BY JACKSON KNOX—“ Old Hawk.”

H wk Heron. the Falcon Detective.
424 Hawk Heron's Deputy.
444 The lc Detective: or. The Hidden Hand. 1
451 Griploc . the Rocket Detective.
462 The Circus Detective.
467 Mainwaring. the Salamander.
477 Dead-arm Brandt.
485 Rowlock, the Harbor Detective.
494 The Detective’s Spy.
501 S rill teel Steve, the Retired Detective.
509 0d alcon. the Thunderbolt Detective.
515 Short-StOp Maje, the Diamond Field Detective.
536 O]: Fallclongs Foe; or, The Matchless Detective’s
‘we 0 .

BY BUFFALO BILL (Hon. W. F. Cody).

52 Death-Trailer. the Chief of Scouts.
:83 Gold Bullet S rt: or, Knights of the Overland.
243 The Pil rim ha : or. The Soldier‘s Sweetheart;
304 Texas ack. the rairie Rattler.
319 Wild Bill, the Whirlwind of the West.
394 White Beaver. the Exile of the Platte.
397 The Wizard Brothers: or. White Beaver‘s Trail.
401 One-Armed Part1; or. Borderland Retribution. J
414 Red Renard. the Indian Detective.

BY PHILIP S. WARNE.

1 A Hard Crowd; or. Gentleman Sam’s Sister.

4 The Kidnapper; or The Northwest Shanghai.
29 Tiger Dick. aro rig; or. The Cashier‘s Crime.)
54 Always on Hand; or. The Foot-Hills Sport.

80 A Man of Nerve; or. Caliban the Dwarf.

114 The Gentleman from Pike.

171 Tiger Dick. the Man of the Iron Heart.

207 Old Hard Head‘ or. Whirlwind and his Marat

251 Tiger Dick vs. 1 n Despard.

$0 Tiger Dick’s Lone Hand.

299 Three of a Kind; or, Tiger Dick. Iron Despard
and the SportiVe Sport.

338 Jack Sands. the Boss of the Town.

359 Yellow Jack. the Mestizo.

380 Tiger Dick‘s Pledge; or, Tne Golden Serpent.

404 Silver Sid; or. A “ Daisy " Bluff.

431 California Kit. the Always .m Hand.

472 Six Foot Si; or, The Man to “Tie To."

502 Bareback Buck. t e Centaur of the Plains.

522 The Champion T .

LATEST AND NEW ISSUES.

542 The Ocean Drift; or, The Fight for Two Lives.
By A. F. Holt.

548 The M nate Detective- or. Ma or Million‘s
Joustawgith the Witch. ‘By Capt. .Holmes.

544 Th Back to Back Pards' or. The Right Man, in.
the Wrong Place. By Philip S. Warne.

545 H stler Harry. the COwboy Sport; or. Darin
Dan shark’s General Delivery. By William GK.
Patten.

545 The Doomed Whaler; or, The Life Wreck. By
Col. Prentiss Ingraham.

547 Tie Buried Detective; or, Saul Sunday’s Six
Sensations. By Jos. E. Badger. Jr.

548 Falconbri e. the S hinx Detective; or, The.
Siren of t e Balefu Eye. By Jackson Knox.

azza Brick, the Baillif of Blue Blazes; or,

549 Bil‘lghr ngse Frank’s Frolic at Bad Luck Bar.
By Wm. B. Eyster.
ilk Hand the Mohave Ferret- or. The Marked

550 8 Man of Arizona. By Capt. Howard Holmes.

arry Kean. the Man with Backbone' or. The

Gladiators of Jack's Delight. By William H.

Manning.

552 Prince Primrose. the Flower of the Block or

‘ The Grand Camp at Paradise Gulch. By Lleut:
A. K. Sims.

558 Mark Monte. the Mutineer: or, The Branded Brig.
By Col. P. Ingrahsm.

Sha the Butler or. The Drummer D92

5“ Mlgctlvemslg Lsy-out.’ ByGeo. c. Jenks.
Ready June 5

555 Gri Sack Sid. the Sam
0 Rock abou Range.

551G

le Sport; or, The Rivals
y Joseph E. Badger. Jr.
Ready J une .

. th S rt-Chevalier' or. A B Racket at
“6 "€113. 03:. play A. w. Alk’en. Rea y June 19.

557 The Mountain Gravbesrds; or. Old Riddle’s
Grea 1‘-

test Riddle. By J. 0. 00ch
Ready June as
h Hal-r . the H h Horse from Halcyon;
we Hglsfiflgh 015 Times list Hard Pan. By Wm. R.
Eyster. Ready July 8. h
559 Danton. the Shadow Sharp; or. The eon of t a
Hidden Hands. By Capt. How Holman.
Ready July 10.

- . The Idol of Last
“0  trgynoglfigfion’grghsm. Ready July 17.
.4 new lame every Wednesday.

Beadle» Dime Library is for sale by all

Newsdealers. ten cents per copy, or sent by mail on
receipt of twelve cents each.

BEADLE AND ADAMS. Pumsnsss.
as William Street. New York.

 

by.» 'i‘ 29's.  3..., i. g; ..   .m .., ..