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COPYRIGHT. 1890.

BY JAMES SULLIVAN.

 

No. 1027.

Published Every
Month.

 

NI. J. IVICIRS‘ & (1).. Publishers,
(JAMES SULLIVAN, PImanTnm,
379 Pearl Sum-t. New York.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

nkee Blue-Jacket

Professor .1. E. Ingrahém.


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.or,The Bruise of the

Ringdove.

  

   

     

 

 

 

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A YANKEE BLUE JACKET;

.__OR‘—

TIIE CRUISE ()F TIIE RINGDO'VE.

BY PROFESSOR J. II. INGRAHAK.

 

CHAPTER I.

0N LA KE BURGNE.

Tm: moon had been an hour above the horizon. The broad
bosom of Lake Borgne reflected its brilliant light without a
ripple upon its liinpid surface. The dark shores around girded
the lake like a belt. There was not a cloud on the star-freckled
sky, nor a shadow upon the silvery wave. All was silence, too,
save now and then was heard the shrill shriek of the eagle from
his eyrie on the shore, or the splash of the awkward alligator as
he plunged afi'righted into the flood.

There is a nigh spectator of this night scene. It is a fair

young girl, who has left a villa half buried in the grove by the
water-side, and of which the moonlight, shining bright upon its
portico, gives a faint glimpse. She has reached the verge of a
low, jutting cliff, upon which tw0 or three large oaks are grow-
ing, and casting beneath. upon the green sward, a shadow
almost black; yet, where the slender moonbcams make their way
through the leaves, they fall brilliantly upon the ground, and
look as if myriads of glow-worms had been scattered upon the
award. Upon this little eminence she stands, gazing intently
upon the wide, bright, still lake. ¢Its silence seems to have a
charm for her and to speak to her soul, for she has been long
standing here, gazing now at the waters as they reflected the
sky, and now at the azure sky; and new again she would listen
to the shriek of the eagle, as it broke upon the night, and to the
heavy, startling plunge of the alligator near by, with feelings
akin to awe. But her eyes were most intent upon the lake
stretching far off over its waters, as if expecting to behold
some object make its appearance. When her eyes could distin-’
guish nothing, she would bend forward in an attitude of listening
attentively, frequently bending her ear low as if to catch the
faintest sound that might be upon the water.

The maiden was Isabel Rosal, the heroine of our story.

She was in her nineteenth summer, tall and graceful, yet no.
too tall, for her height gave her dignity. Her complexion was
Arabian, dark and rich olive, warmed wi.h the blood of a gen-
erous clime. Her dark eyes were sparkling and full of soul and
feeling. Her features were strikingly beautiful, and expressive
of a generous and proud spirit. With all the softness and fasci-
nation of her sex, she possessed resolution and firmness of char
actor in an unusual degree.

She was the daughter of an opulent Louisianian, who had dig
tinguished himself at the battle of New Orleans, and subsequent-
ly retired to his estate, on the shores of Lake Borgne, a few
leagues from the city of New Orleans, there, in the retirement
which he coveted, to enjoy the honors he had entwined

.about his brow, and to educate a beloved son and daughter. But
circumstances, which will be unfolded in the course of this narra-
tive, interposed to destroy these plans of happiness. Suffice it to
say that Isabel Rosa], his daughter, and Robert Ross], her
brother, Were orphans, their mother only now being alive, and
residing upon the estate on the lake, in the possession of a
princely fortune, to which the two children were the only heirs.

Isabel had left the villa just as the moon rose, and bent her
steps to the cliff, where we find her watching the opposite outlet
of the lake; for the lake communicated with the Gulf of Mexico
in the south-eastern direction from the place where she stood.

“ It is ten o’clock. The tide flows and will soon turn. He
should have been in sight-in the middle of the lake by this
time 1” she said, after steadily watching the faint, far off outline
of the horizon. She spoke with an air of disappointment and
inpatience combined. She walked for a few moments quickly

up and down the award, beneath the shadow of the old trees that

 

 

overhung the cliff ; and then again keenly bent her gaze in the
direction of the outlet of the lake. After looking for several
moments she turned away with an air of vexation.
" Why should I expect him without a wind to waft him along?
In my impatience I thought only of the flowing tide, and forgot.
that he must have a breeze to fill his sails. The lake is as calm
as a sea of polished silver. He will not come to-nightl Hark!
What is that I hear ? It is the sound of oars on '- e right, along
the shore. I cannot be mistaken.” v
She stepped forward a little, and after waiting a moment saw
distinctly a small boat. gliding along close under the bank, and
pulling swiftly but cautiously towards the cliff where she stood.
Surprised but not alarmed at this discovery, she wrapped
closer about her form the dark mantle which she wore, so as tc
conceal her white dress, which might have betrayed her presence,
and then, sheltered by one of the trees, she watched the advance
of the boat. It contained but one person, who was rowing. As
he came near the cliff he rose in his boat, and using one of the
cars as a paddle, guided the skiff into the land and leaped ashore.
The place where he landed was perfectly dark, being overhung
by the clifi‘, so that if he had been her brother she could have
hardly made out his person. Yet there was evidently an instino
tive recognition of the stranger in her heart, for it bounded and
throbbcd tumultuously from the moment she saw him rise up in
the boat. But as he wore a short cloak and a low cap which
concealed his features, and was some twenty feet beneath the
place where she stood, she dared not give utterance to the name
that was upon her lips.

The young man, for such his general air and movements be-
trayed him, having hastily Secured the boat, took a sword from
the seat and buckled it beneath his cloak. He then looked up,
as if in search of the steep path that ascended the cliff. As he
lifted his face a luminous moonbeam fell upon it and revealed for
an instant the handsome features of a young man of four-and.
twenty, with a bold, frank air, and a countenance agreeable and
prepossessing. His cap, too, displayeda gold band and but o
which betrayed his profession to be that of a sailor. Up

ing his face, the maiden clasped her hands together with joy -
surprise and was about to spring forward with an exclamation
and the name, Louis, on her lips, when, as if prompted by a
secret impulse, she drew back and smilingly restraining her emo-
tions, she said—

“ I will see what he will do I"

With this pretty purpose she kept the tree between her and"
the stranger as be mounted the path to ascend to the top of the
cliff. From this spot a gravelled walk led along a ridge towards
the barn of the villa, a walk shaded by trees, and such a one as
lovers delight to ramble in when the moonlight weaves from
shadows of the foliage a carpet of fantastic figures beneath their
feet.

When getting to the top of the cliff he paused and looked
around. He turned towards the lake, and after keenly looking
in the direction of its outlet, he said—

“ There is no probability of seeing the cutter up to-night.
The wind is gone to sleep for the next twelve hours. New for
my dear Isabel. I trust she has not followed the example of the
Zephyrs and gone to sleep too. It is now three nights sincel
promised to be here; and I can’t expect she will keep watch for
me to the last !”

“ Yet I have done so, sir laggard,” exclaimed Isabel, suddenly
appearing before his surprised vision.

"Isabel l” he cried joyfully, and bounding towards her he
clasped her to his heart. “ Noble and true girl,” he said as he
held her back a moment at arm's length and gazed with ail a
lover’s admiration into her dark eyes, “ how good you are to be
here! I was just about forming a plan to communicate with you
for I expected that, not seeing me last night nor the night before,
you would not look for me tonight, and be in your room. It is
so like you to be here.” s

“ Then don’t be so surprised. Truth to tell, Louis, I was just
about going away when I caught the sound of your oars. Pray
how is it you come in a boat and in this way ‘l’ Where is your
vessel?"

" Outside at anchor, some five leagues away.

H

  

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“Why did you not come before? You wrote me from New
Orleans eight days ago that I might expect you at nine o’clock
at the latest last Thursday night. And here you have just made
your appearance. ‘ You do not deserve that I should have been
here in waiting for you. Give me a good account of your delay,
and, perhaps, I will forgive you. There in no offence more grie-
vous than for a true lover to disappoint his mistress.”

“I confess it, Isabel. I will now defend myself.” he said in
the same playful tone in which she had spoken. “ When I sent
word to you from the city that I should be here on Thursday, I did
not anticipate that I should be prevented by orders from a source
that I dare not disobey without forfeiting my commission in the
Revenue service. It is my all and my profession.”

' “Do not speak so disparagingly of the service you are in,
Louis. It is not, it is true, so desirable as the Naval, but it is
honorable. During the war the Revenue Cutters behaved gal-
lantly, made numerous captures. and performed a number of

. brilliant achievements. which have reflected glory upon the navy
of which they were an acting-branch. I will not hear you speak
lightly of your profession."

“ I must be content with it‘; and so you love me no less, Isa-
bel, I am satisfied with it, or ought to be. Besides, I am looking
up, as you shall bear." ‘

“ What were these orders you received which prevented your
fulfilling your intention of coming here so soon as you ex-
pected ‘I ” . »

“They were from the Secretary of the Treasury. \ They
reached me the very day l despatched the note to you, but an

hour fter it was sent. The orders informed me that there was
an I‘md schooner which had been cruizing for several weeks in
the neighborhood of Cape St. Antonio and film Tortugases, under
the Mexican flag, and which had boarded and plundered several
vessels; and that, as she was a very fast sailor, I was forthwith

:0 sail in pursuit of her and use every effort to capture or destroy

Icr. You may judge that such an order, relieving me from the

aedium of coast duty, and opening before me the excitement of-

a chase and a brush with a privatcer, gave me no little pleasure.”

"And are you going on this dangerous service, Louis?” she
asked, with emotion, all her womanly fears awakened at the idea
of the danger to which her lover would be exposed.

“ Yes, Isabel. It is a service of honor. You are the last per-
son to dissuade me from it, I well know ‘I You are silent. But
Iknow you will never bid me stay at home. I should be un-
wurthy of your love, if love for you would make me indifferent
to dishonor. I had no sooner got this order than I prepared 00
get my little cutter ready for the new service she was destined
to enter upon. I shipped twenty—five more brave men, added to

I ' the eight six-pounders a long eighteen, which I placed just shaft
the foremost, took on board powder, ball, and small arms, and

Left the port the second day after receiving my orders. This ac-
counts for a part of the delay; and for the rest, I have been all
the afternoon becalmed off the entrance to the lake.”

‘ " And were you going on your perilous cruise, Louis,” she said,

reproachfully, ” without informing me ?” ,

" No, love. I despatched Tilly to inform you that I was very
suddenly ordered off, and should probably be absent I“ least a
month. I have not seen him.” '

“Because the black rogue would not go. He took my letter
and'pretendcd to start, but came back secretly and concealed
himself on board till I had got a dozen leagues down the river.
He then made his appearance. and pleaded as an excuse his wish
to go with me and see some fighting. So when I found that you
would be left in a state of uncertainty and anxiety, Isabel, I re
solved to keep in with the coast and run into see you for an hour
or two, and say ‘good bye :’ which would not put me more than
three or four hours out of, my time. But just as I got off the en-
trance to the lake there fell a dead calm. As night approached
seeing-no prospect of a wind, I took my lightest'boat an'd'four

   and pulled into tli’e’lake. The tide set us towards the

western shore, and landing near the Spanish fisherman’s hut, half
a mile from this, I left my men there to rest, after their long row,
food drink Manuel’s sour'w'ine, and alone pulled hither to seek an
interview with you. Happy was I to find you here watching for
me. Now you have heard my defence—uni Whit Isa-
k) i" he said, nailing.

 

C H A P T E R I I.
ALMOST A mum.

Tm; maiden did not for a moment make any reply. She was
too much distressed at the prospect of being so shortly separated
rom Louis, perhaps, considering the dangerous service he was
sent upon, perchance forever.

“Do not speak so lightly, Louis. Do not ask me to forgive
when there is nothing to pardon. I am grieved at the intelli-
gence you bring to me. Is it indeed true, that you are sent in
pursuit of this formidable Mexican privateer, and in your small
vessel, too? You can never capture her; but, on the contrary,
will be taken yourself."

“Do not fear, Isabel. I have the utmost confidence in my
cutter’s crew, and in less than ten days I hope to give a good
account of the enemy.” ,

“ Well, Louis, go i I will not detain you. Go where duty calls
you. But I would much rather you had staid where danger. was
less.”

“ And the life inglorious, Isabel,” he. said, with animation.

“ No. no ! I no sooner read the orders from the department than
I felt like another man.” ' ’

“ And did you not think of me ?"

“ Yes—but only with the proud consciousness that I was now
about to be placed in a way of rendering myself more worthy
of your love, Isabel. I did not so much think of your regret at
having me go away, as of your pride in my success.”

“And I will tnink only of your success, Louis. I willpray
for it. If you would let me, I would go with you.”

“ Much as I should love to have you with me, Isabel, I would
not expose you to the dangers and inconveniences of the sea;

0, not even if you would consent this very hour to becdine my
bride, that you might honorably accompany me. I shall probably
be absent less than a fortnight. On my return we will be,
married."

“ Neither then, nor ever, shall Louis Dumont be the husband
of Isabel Rosal i” cried a fierce voice close by them.

“My brother I” shrieked Isabel, rushing to place herself be.
tween Robert Rosal and her lover. v

“Draw, Dumont, and defend yourself i” cried Robert Basal.
putting his sister aside, and advancing toward Louis with his
sword drawn.

" Robert, hold i“ cried Isabel, catching the shining blade in‘
her naked grasp. “ What madness is this ?"

“ Do not interfere, Isabel, or I will not be answerable for the
consequences,” exclaimed the young man, who had approached
the spot where they had been conversing unperceived, and been
muse moments a listener. He was dressed in a light grey un~
dress naval jacket, sportsman’s buff trowsers, and wore upon his
head a broad palmetto hat. About his waist was a belt, in which
was worn a short sword. The sword he had drawn, and was,
now adv‘ancing upon the lovar. ’

Lotus stood calmly and unmovod, till he heard him menace his
sister, when he said, sternly— ' I

" Dare to harm that lady, Robert Rosal, and you shall answer ,
for it to me. What quarrel have you with me that you thus... fl
come upon me like a robber?” ‘ '

u Queue]? None—I will have none with the son of a mu K-
dorerl It is vengeance I seek. I heard that you sought (ballad
of my sister. I was with the army at the Rio Guide. W591! the. 
news came to me. I did not delay an hour. Just as I was—for 7 v J
I was hunting near the camp when the message came to nib-€41. I:
started homeward, Iarrived tonight at my home. I wughtmy, 
sister in her chamber. t was vacant. A servant had seen her: 
walk towards the cliff. Here I have found her, and in your pan.
sence. Is it not enough, sir, that we are foes by nature,  .
you shouldseck towinthe love of my sister. (No data}!!!“ I "5“
than this could you ofier me. Draw; Loulfi Damon“ 3 m m 
to avenge my father’s blood.” ' ' 

“ Robert,l did no} slay your father 1” , _ ' j

“ Nay, brother, why call the son into judgment for the 

f not?“ criedfhis sister. 2

,..«.Away, ingrate! Do you care W ,3 «his   
whatmoraca'alexpect from ona»who\sgaomwd%-, P

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nor own father? Speak not, Isabel, or I shall be tempted to
punish your treachery to your own honor and mine, by plunging
“my sword into your heart? Stand aside l You will not! Louis
Dumont, if you are a man, follow me. We will settle our little
matter where there are no women to interfere. 1 have for years
forborne to avenge my father‘s death upon you, as I ought to
have done. Nay, I have outwardly been courteous to you, but
when you have presumed upon my forbearance to address my
sister, the daughter of the father whose life your father basely
took, it is time that I should interfere. Follow me to a. more re-
tired part of the lake shore. We will see which wields the best
swon ." i

“ Louis, i forbid you to obey him i ” cried Isabel, seeing the
young ofi‘icer about to move, as if to comply with his hostile in-
yitatio:.. Robert, are you lost to all affection for line—all hon-
.sideration for my presence, that you act thus '2"

“ You have forfeited my love, Isabel. Do you pretend to be
ignorant that Colonel Duinont, the father of your Revenue lover
here, killed your father and my own ? ”

" No. brother, alasi I Would it were otherwise. But it was
in an honorable duel i" i

“ No, only the semblance of an honorable duel. My father
was run through the heart after having been twice wounded and

' the base assassin passed his sword through his body."

“ Do not recur to this dreadful event, Robert. It has been
hiked of by you till I am heart-sick of it.”

“ It is false, Robert Rosei i My father slew him in honorable
and fair combat. The aggrievance my father had was a heavy

“one, and the terms of the unhappy contest were, as I myself have
seen them on record, that they should fight till one of them cried
for quarter. Were it not for the love I bear thy sister, and her
presence” here, I would prove to thee presently, that my father
slew his enemy honorably."

“ Thou liestl He assassinated him. It ‘was one of the foulest
deeds that ever stained the hand of a murderer l "

“ This to me! I pray thee, fair Isabel, retire, and let your
brother and l settle the dispute on the spot. Icanbear no more.
even for thy sake.”

“And what if thou dost slay Robert? Think thee, Louis, I
will ever give thee my hand or forgive thee ? No i "

“ Fear not, Louis i" cried Robert, tauntingly ; “ if 1. she can
forgive the sonfor the father's deed, she will forgive thee for
thine own, even if thy victim be her brother. So let us to work.
(he hilt of my sword grows hot in my hand i" and he made a
menacing step towards the lover.

Louis threw himself into an attitude of defence, when "Isabel,
with a sudden spring, caught her brother’s sword » from his hand
and threw it into the water.

“ Now, Louis, to thy boat, and speed thee away quickly, if you
ever hope to have favor in my eyes more. It is my brother
whom you would combat with. For my sake forgive his words
Md hasten from the spot.” '

’“ For thy sake I will avoid the reoontre, Isabel,” responded
Louis, hastily pressing her hand to his lips. " Farewelll Ere
long we shall meet again, when I hope you will confer on me the
authority of your protector." /

“ God preserve and return you to me in safety," she answered
’with tears. . ‘

The next moment he had sprung down the cliff and was "in his

I boat shoving off from the shore. |

Robert was not idle themeanwh/ile. No sooner had he found

. himself deprived of . his weapon in so extraordinary a manner,
then he threw himself from the bank and plunged into shoal
water where he had seen it disappear. He recovered it and

 came out of the lake with deep curses against his sister and her

v,‘y

U ytovcr, when he saw thwboat Containing Louis shoot out of the
. 4 shadows on the other side of the bank.

’3 “ Coward and son of an assassin 1 You do Well to fly the ven-

‘j‘égeante of the son of a murdered man. If your feet over again

Bread these shores, you die, and the ungrateful girl also who

dares to love’where she shouldhate.”

if, Louis made no reply. He slowly rode away along the shores
 the W "mum, Was lost to the sight of the infuriated and ’

Mppointed young man. v -

c

Rom stood for a moment looking at him, And monitor-hing V

 

, gier. so long as he did not catch blunt his duo. let lain remain

CHAPTER III.
THE OLD SMUGGLER.

Loms DUMONT, after being lost to the eyes of the incensed
brother of Isabel. pulled along the lake-shore until he came. at
the expiration of a quarter" of an hour, to the inlet to a small
creek. This was an inlet that led by a winding way to several
fine plantations in the interior. Its mouth was overgrown by
huge trees which cast it into the darkest shadow. Some of the
depending branches nearly touched the water, and so completely
concealed the entrance that one unncquainted with it and not
noticing the outward flow of a current, would pass it even in the
day-light without discovering it. To those who were familiar
with it, it was known by the denser grouping of the trees there-
abouts.

Upon coming opposite the mouth, Louis, after being sure of the?
entrance, pulled his boat directly under a heavily-drooping branch,
and after passing a few yards under the thick canopy of foliage
which compelled him to stoop low as he glided beneath. he found
himself in a bright opening on the strcmn and in the full moon-
light. 'On the bank, which was cleared for a few yards of trees,
stood a low cabin, constructed of poles and withes interwoven
and surrounded by a rude gallery in the Spanish fashion—On the
shore were drawn up.two or three small pirogues, and a few feet
from the but was anchoi'ed one of thosa broad, short luggers.
with one stump mast and with open deCks, used by the Spanish
fisherman of the lake. Thisuwith the boats upturned upon the
strand, the hut and its picturesque gallery, with the madark
forest around, formed a fine moonlight picture. To complete it
and give it life, the lofty figure of Manuel the fisherman was
seen standing near his door upon the shore, watching the in.
trudcr, leaning upon his longgun.

“ Who goes there?” he called out, just as Louis discovered
him.

“ U n amigo, Manuel. Are mylmen with you? Tell them to
beat a hand. There is a cloud rising away in the South West
which will give us a wind before midwatch."

“ Wont your excellency please come ashore and take a glass
of my vino," said Manuel, in a hearty, hospitable tone, as Louis
drove the bow of his boat against thestnnd.

“Yes, thanks t; you, Manuel. I will; for your wine is far-
famec ." I ‘

“ it comes from my brother in Oporto, who every year sends
me a cask, senor Capitan.”

“ Your brother is a Portuguese, then. I thought you were a
Spaniard, Manuel."

“ May not a Spaniard live in Portugal, senor? Be sure my
wine is good, whence ever it came." ,

“ There are people, Manuel, that do say it has never done exf‘
cise duty. But of course this is a slender," said Louis, smiling
as he stepped on shore. ‘

' “ Bien l When you can find me at smuggling wine, senor, you
are at liberty, to seize it. You can’t expect me to pay duty on a
present from my brother.”

“ if I saw such a cask of wine coming on shore,l fear Ishouid/
have to‘put the excise mark on it, Manuel. But till then?! will,
drink your health in what l find in your hut."

“ It is not good manners, Captain, for a guest to ask his host
where and how he gets his vino. If thy conscience will not let
thee drink, any so. I‘ll warrant thy fellows here within have no ‘
such misgivings.”

- Louis smiled and enteer the hut. Ids well knew the old man
was a suspected smuggler; for the carrying on of which business
his location was admirably chosen, as a boat communication was
possible all the’way through to New Orleans. For his own part
he had no doubt that annually many scores of casks of wine had
found their way, transferred from vessels in the lake, past Man-
uel's door, to the city, free of any duty save that which was ex-

acted by Manuel for his cenntenance and assistance. But as he i

had never been detected in this suspected contraband trade, he
had been suffered to remain there, though closely watched, and _
at times receiving visits quite unexpectedly. He was; therefore, "1
Well known to Louis, who, while he well know him to be 8 may

0

 

 

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without molestation, frequently visiting his but in a friendly
way.

Manuel, on his part, while he kept on good terms with the nu-
merous officers, was very cautious and wary, ' ‘

The young revenue officer having landed and approached the
but from which a light streamed forth, and from which came the
voice of a merry song, Manuel threw it open, remarking—

“ Your men appear to be very happy, Captain."

“Yes—the dogs know how to enjoy themselves when on shore,
and especially when they can pour free wine down their hoarse
throats.”

“ Enter, captain. Free or branded you are entireiy welcome
to the best my poor but affords.”

Louis entered the large apartment, in the centre of which
stood a table, which from the iron rings upon its feet, had plainly
been in the cabin of some vessel. Around this board were seated
his four men, two of them with grey heads and grizzly beards,
looking as if they had faced the tempests of a quarter of a cen-
tury; and the other two, bold, reckless-looking young men, in
blue roundabouts and tarpaulins. Before them stood a large
earthen jug of water, which was flanked by several bottles,
empty, full, and half filled with ruby wine. As Louis entered,
they were in the act of drinking his health—for he was a very
popular ofiicer with all who sailed under him.

“ Thanks, my lads, thanks,” he said in a hearty tone—“ the
same to you, and a successful cruise to the Ringdove,"

This sentiment, uttered by their captain just as he was enter-
ing the door, was received by them with a loud shout, which
wound up in a regular huzza.

“ Don’t be noisy, lads, I fear you have taken too much grape-
juice for ballast. You have a twelvemile pull before you to-

night; and too much wine makes woman's nerves 3”

“ We'll drink no more, captain, answered one of the men, rising
and touching his hat with an air of tipsy respect for his com-
mander. “The Spanish Don Smugglaro keeps the true juice.
It is my sworn belief, saving yer presence, captain, that all wine
as goes through the Custom House is watered.”

“ It is not polite, Ben," said one of the young men, “ to give
out this never paid duty, it would have gone against my con-
science to have drank a drop.”

“ There, Captain," said Manuel, handing to him a bottle and
glass, there is a wine ‘that Mahomet gives to his followers in Par.

adise. Try it, and say if my brother‘s vineyard be not a rare

)1

one.

" You say well, Manuel," answered Louis, after drinking a full
bumper, and setting down the glass; “when I go to Oporto, I
shall not fail to trespass on his hospitality. Does he not make
more than this one cask, which he so fraternally sends you
annually ‘2"

“ I am not inquisitive, Captain,” answered the Spaniard,
drily. “ I have never asked my brother about his business. I
am content to receive his gift, and commend him to the saints
for his reward, in remembering a poor fisherman, who, but for
him. would never have lmown the color of good wine.”

“Come, my lads, to the boat again, and be ready to start at a
moment’s notice.” ~

The four seamen left the hut, touching their hats as they
passed their captain, and got into the boat.

“ It is well I returned as I did, Manuel, or you would have got
all four of my men fairly drunk with your nectar of Mahomet’s
Paradise,” said Louis, seeing that one of his men reeled a little
as he walked down to the boat.

“No, senor,” answered Manuel, in a tone of remarkable sig-
nificance. “I do not care to have tipsy men in my hut, and
especially tonight The sooner I get rid of them the better.”

“Why not care to have them particularly to-night ‘2”, asked
Louis.

"Did I say tonight?" asked Manuel, quickly. “I meant at
any time—not to—night more than at any other time. I kept them
sober out of respect to you.”

“ I am much obliged to you, Manuel. But doubtless the severe
discipline I keep over my men, helped their sobriety somewhat.
But where is your fair daughter, the lovely, dark-eyed Benita?”

" She is in the city with her aunt, senor,” answered Manuel,

 

abruptly, as if he did not much like to reply or to speak of her
at all.

“ The wind is rising away here,” he said, raising his arm and
turning the palm of his hand towards the south and west. “ You

.ave wind enough outside by the time you reach the schoon-
er, captain.”

“ Yes, and I shall welcome it when it comes.”

“ Your men say you are bound on a cruise off the Tortugasses
after a privateer that has been cruising bet-ween there and Cape
Antonio, the last month or two. This wind that is rising will be
fair for a run to the west of Cuba. I wish you all success, cap.
tain.”

“ Thank you. Do you know, Manuel, that next to the captur»
ing of this privateer, I have the greatest desire to catch you run
ning a cargo of wine through the bayou to the city.”

This was spoken in a laughing manner. Manuel changed
color, and for a moment let his dark glance rest upon the face
of the young officer, with the most intense suspicion. But he saw
nothing to confirm his fears—nothing to lead him to suppose that
he had any more reason for making the remark then, than at any
other time—for he had heard Louis say the same thing before;
and well knew that frankly and freely as he treated him, he
would pounce upon him the first time he could catch him infring~
ing the revenue laws.

"Bien, senor. If you find more wine enter the mouth of this
creek than my one cask, you are welcome to it."

“ I well know, good Manuel, that that one cask should be most
correctly rendered, with txvo, or, perhaps, three cyphers added
to the figure one. But I shall keep a sharp watch.”

“ And so shall I, senor Captain,” answered the Spaniard with
a laugh, as he led the way to the boat, with the anxious manner
of a host, who wishes to get rid of his guest as soon as may be;
who apprehended evil from his lingering. _

Louis stepped into the boat, and as he did so, extended his
hand to the old smuggler. who, in spite of his being a revenue
officer, and the most active one on the coast, still liked him, al-
though he watchcd him.

“ Good bye, Manuel. Remember me to thy fair daughter. .
have seen her but once, and that once has made me think thee
the happiest of fathers, in having one so beautiful to cheer thee
in thy solitary home.”

“My daughter is Well enough, senor,” answered Manuel.
“ This wind will aid thee, for I see thou hast a sail in the bottom
of thy boat."

“ Yes. I took it to help us if a breeze should spring up_
Adios, Manuel."

“Adios, senor,’ answered the old man, waving his hand with
a graceful salutation.

“ Give way, men l" cried Louis, and the boat, turning her prow
towards the lake, moved rapidly away from the smugglers land-
ing, and, in a moment or two, passed out of the inlet beneath the
overhanging curtain of branches, into the broad moonlight
Here Louis hoisted the sail, and taking the helm, stretched boldly
across the lake, in the direction of its outlet.

1

CHAPTER IV.

THE BROTHER AND SISTER.

Roasar ROSAL walked rapidly on towards the villa in advance
of Isabel. He was greatly agitated by the discovery be had
made. His strongest fears had been confirmed. His sister and
his greatest enemy—the man he hated above all men for his
name and blood—were lovers] He had found themtogether,
and they had not feared to confess their attachment.

Nor is their love to be wondered at. The residence of Colonel
Dumont was less than a league distant from the villa. He had
once been Mr. Rosal’s most intimate friend. Together they went
forth from their estates to offer their services in the cause of
their country: and side by side bravely fought on the 8th of
January; and more than once had they contributed to each
other's safety. After the war they returned to their respective
estates, married, and in a few years each of them had a son and

daughter to take up their attention and to build up bright hops

 

 

   
 
  
  
  
   
  
  
    
 
 
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
  
  
   
  
   
  
  
  
   
   
  
  
   
  
  
   
 
   
 
  
 
 
    
  
 
 
  
 
   
    
   
  
  
  
     
   

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tor the future upon. Daily the fathers saw one another, and
loved to speak of the probable two-fold union between their
children. They delighted to see them together, and with joy
watched their childish attachment.

_ “ Louis will be Isabel's husband one day," said Mr. Rosal, with
a smile of happiness, as the two fathers Were gazing upon the
sports of the four children.

“Yes, Colonel, and Robert will wed Mary. It will be hands
across. \Ve shall be united together, my friend, by double links
through this union of our children.

In this manner did the two fathers discourse of their children.‘

But this serene course of life was not destined long to continue.
It was unhappin interrupted by the bitter and Contentious spirit
of politics. It was a period when party feeling was running
high—Families were divided against themselves individually,

. and a difference of opinion separated brothers. The two gentle.

men took opposite sides, and at length when they met, their con-
versation tOok a political turn. The chances of their favorite
candidates were at first calmly discussed; but as each warmed
with his subject he seemed to think himself only in the right
and the other wrong. Z‘onviction of being on the right side led
to a desire on the part of each to convince the other of his er-
ror. This attempt at conversion led to warm words, and ulti‘
mately to an open quarrel. It was as sudden as it was violent
and epithets of the most insulting characterpassed between those
who but a few moments before were the firmest friends.

The rupture became so wide and spirit of acrimony so strong
in each breast, that for several weeks the friendly intercourse be-
tween them entirely ceased.

Mutual friends at length succeeded in reconciling them; but
in a few days the subject was once more started, and from bitter
words they came to blows.

Mr. Rosal with angry violence slapped Colonel Dumont in the
face, at the same time applying to him the terms of “idiot ” and
“ fool !"

But for the intervention of friends, the degraded ofiicer would
have wiped out the stain upon his honor with the blood of the
insulter. He was compelled to keep his sword in its sheath from
which it had half leaped to avenge the gross injury he had re.
ceived at the hand of his former bosom friend.

A challenge followed, and the parties met. Mr. Rosal being
the challenged party regulated the conditions of the combat, to
which, with reluctance. Colonel Dumont consented. They were,
that they should fight with swords, and that the combat should
continue until one of the parties fell dead or cried for quarter.
~ The result of the contest is already known to the raader. Col.
Dumont, after having received his antagonist’s sword five times
in his arm and body, brought him to his knees, and called upon
him to yield. But Mr. Rosal replied only by making an upward
lunge at his heart, when the sword of Dumont passed to the hilt
in his breast. Mr. Rosal fell over upon his side and died without
a word or a struggle.

The victor stood looking upon him with looks of the deepest
grief. All his former friendship for him now rushed back upon
his soul. Tears came to his eyes, and kneeling by his side he
took his lifeless hand bathed it with the moisture of profound
sorrow.

His friends came to him and warned him to fly. He embraced
the body of his friend and mounting a horse galloped away, ac-
companied by one or two of his friends. On his way, he stop-
ped a few moments at his house, commended his children to the
care of his weeping wife, and in an hour afterwards was on board
a vessel, on his way to Cuba.

The versions of this painful rencontre were two-fold. One
party, the friends of Rosa], declard that the conduct of Colonel
Dumont had been that of an assassin; that he took the life of
his antagonist when it would have been a point of honor to spare
it. The other party pronounced the combat to have been strictly
in accordance with the rules which were to regulate it, and
which were drawn up by the deceased himself; and that unless
Colonel Dumont had slain his antagonist he would have fallen a
victim to the other’s evident and most vindictive determination
to kill him.

The latter narrative of the affair had been early impressed up-
on the minds of Robert and Isabel, who at the death of their
father were five and nine years of age. Louis and his sister ro-

 

 

.4_- A_,.____.._-_ _4-....v ~ 4_

ceived the account which defended their father. Louis was eight
years of age, and his sister, Mary, but five when their father ex—
iled himself to Cuba to escape the retribution of the laws; for
the friends of Mr Rosal resolved to prosecute him for what they
termed his foul murder.

After the absence of two years, and when the affair was blown
over, Col. Dumont secretly returned to his estate. Upon tho

. day of his arrival, his youngest daughter had been lost upon the

lake, and he found his wife and Louis in the deepest affliction.
It appeared that a negro slave was fishing not far from the shore
when Louis called to him to take them in and row them about.
He obeyed, and by their direction pulled under some trees which
overhung the water, as Louis said he wished to swing by the
branches.

The slave, fearing to disobey his young master, paddled the
canoe under the branches of a large water-oak whose giant limbs
extended far out from the bank, and in the dark shade of which
the water was black as ink. Here the boat stopped, and Louis,
catching by the pendant branch of one of the limbs, began to
swing to and fro, pushing himself far out from the boat, so that
he hung over the water. The old negro, seeing that the current
was strong there, for the tide was coming in and flowed swiftly
up a bayou a few feet distant, endeavored to prevail upon the ad-
venturous boy to give up his dangerous sport.

“ If you break dat limb, massa Louis, you for sartin go plump
in de water an’ be drown dead as ’em fish. "

“Never mind me, Cuti‘y,” answered Louis, laughing; “I can

swim if the branch should break,”
. .As he pushed against the side of the boat with his foot to give
himself a wider swing, and with such sudden force as to throw
his sister, who was clapping her hands and watching with delight
his sport, head first over the gunwale into the dark water.

The negro uttered a shout of horror, and, unable to swim,
seized the oar to attempt her rescue. Louis no sooner saw her
disappear than with a shriek he quickly dropped from the limb
and dove after her. AS he came to the surface without her, tin.
blade of Cuffy’s oar struck him upon his head with such force as
to stun him. The negro grasped him by the hair and drew him
into the boat insensible. He then looked around, overcome with
terror, in search of the child; but he could no where behold her.
She had either sunk at once without rising again, or else risen
and drifted away out of sight, underneath the low branches of
the trees Filling the air with lamentations, he pulled all around
the spot, but in vain.

He then turned his attention to Louis, whom he soon revived.
The boy's first exclamation was for his sister; and when he was
told that she had not come to the surface, again he would have
plunged in after her, but for the strong grasp the old slave held
upon him.

The intelligence of the loss of the child had hardly been con.
veyed to Madam Dumont, ere her husband suddenly made his
appearance. It was a sad hour of arrival; and instead of the
smiles of joy which he had been so long anticipating, he was met
with the tears of the bereaved mother.

His presence at home was not noticed by his former enemies,
who had suffered their hostility to die out with time and reflec-
tion. But, although his appearance abroad was unattended with
danger, he preferred the retirement of his home. The death of
his child, to whom he was firmly attached, preyed heavily on
his spirits, and the quiet of his estate was most congenial to the
sadness of his heart.

He also constantly mourned the fall of his friend by his hand,
and bitterly regretted the circumstances, which had led to an
event so painful. He now devoted himself to the education of
8s son, who promised to be an honor to his declining years. Bit
Colonel Dumont did not live to see his hopes in his boy matured.
His health, impaired by his residence in Cuba, and undermined
by his sorrows, at length gave way, and when Louis was in his
sixteenth year, he died, leaving him the heir of a small patrimony.

Previous to his death, he had exerted his influence to get his
son into the navy; but finding that he could not succeed, he ob-
tained a promise of his admittance into the Revenue service.
from which he hoped that he would one day make his way into
the naval service of his country.

Louis entered the service of the Revenue, and was, in a very
little while, promoted to a lieutenancy. He occasionally revisited

  

his native home, where his heart ever lingered, but not so much
with his mother, whom he nevertheless tenderly loved, as with
Isabel Rosal, the playmate of his childhood, and the partner in
many a stolen walk of his ripcr youth.

The death of Mr. Rosal, which had cast such a cloud over the
two families, had not eradicated from the bosom of the beautiful
Isabel, her childish love for the handsome young Louis. They
secretly met, and condoled with each other in‘ tears, over the
great misfortune that had come upOn them. Louis gave her to
' understand the truth, exonerating his father: and while both
mourned the fatal event, they promised, with all the ardor of
children, that it should never make any difference in their afi'ec-
tion for one another.

Faithfully did they adhere to their resolution.

Robert, whose fiery spirit could not brook any intercourse with
\the son of the man who had taken the life of his father, seeing
this intimacy continue, so’fearfully menaced his sister that, trem-
bling for her life, she promised he should never see her speak to
him again.

But she meant, nevertheless, to speak to him as often as she
could, unseen by her brother.

In this manner the young people grew up to manhood and wo.
manhood. Louis devoted himself assiduously to his profession,
that he at length rose to command one of the fleetest cutters in
the Gulf; while Robert, entering the navy, was about the same
time promoted to a ilcutcnuncy. The young gentlemen very sel.
dom met, but when they did it was to bow with cold formality.

The vessel of war to which Robert was attached had been or
'dercd, a few weeks prior to the opening of our story, to blockade
the Rio Grande. It was there he received intelligence, in a
mysterious way, that if he would save his sister from marrying
the son of his father‘s murderer, he must hasten home without
delay.

His sudden appearance and discovery of Louis and Isabel on
the cliff we have already witnessed.

We now return to him as he was walking back to the villa,
greatly agitated at the discovery of his sister's attachment,

Slowly Isabel walked on behind him, not wishing by her pres-
ence, to provoke him further, or endanger her life by coming
near him, in his present excited Ltate of mind.

Suddenly he stopped, and looking back, called her to hasten
her steps. I

" Tell me, and tell me truthfully, Isabel, are you betrothed to
this assassins son 7"

” I do not recognise any person so designated. If you get an
answer from me, Robert, you must use more moderate language.”

Robert knew too Well the firm and independent spirit of his
sister to attempt to brow-beat her. He knew that mildness only
was the sceptre to which she would in the least bend.

“ Are you engaged to Louis Dumont ‘1" he said, in an altered
tone.

" Yes."

“ And the time set for your marriage, I dare say."

“ Yes." ‘

“ Pray, may I know when it is to be ’2 " he asked, in the some
ironical tone in which he had spoken the last two or three sen-
tences.

“ It will be on his return from his present cruise." ’

“I think I heard him say he was going in chase of a Mexican
privateer, lately seen cruizing of? the Tortugases '2”

“ Yes, brother.”

" Very well. That is .u I wish to know,” he answered, as be
“tend the house. ‘

CHAPTER. V.

frat sunsetsa’s panama

_As Robert Rosal entered the hall, he ordered his servant to
bring a fresh horse to the door; and, after partaking of some 
ireehmente, he went out, and without saying a word to IsobeL,
mounted and gallopod away alone. - .
_ " If it were not that Louis is on the lake, in safety within his

bong! should, fear him some mischief from my brother.” the

 

\

said, as she saw him ride furiously away. "Did your master
any where he was going, or whether he should return tonight 2 ”
she inquired of the black groom.

“ No, missis. He neber say noting. He look berry mad, and
swear at him horse, an’ use him spur mighty hard. I reckons
mass’ Robert be berry sick, or some'at else ails him. Dat's my
cartin ’pinion, missis."

” Very well, J emmy. You can go to your room,"

“ Tanky, missis. It be midnight if it be anyting at all.
Dare’s de tin dipper ober dc long chimney, wid de handle pointin'
up do sky."

With this astronomical observation, the old negro shufiled
along through the wide open hall towards the court-yard in the
rear, while Isabel, full of anxiety and restlessness from the events
of the night, unable to seek repose, resolved once more to retrace
her steps to the cliff, and watch if perchance she might discover
her lover's retiring boat, and thus be assured of his safety; for,
that Robert’s departure boded injury to Louis, she had not
a doubt~ His manner, and his last words to her, confirmed this
suspicion.

Finding that the house was all quiet, she stole forth and hurried
to the cliff. It was now half an hour past midnight. The full
moon had passed the zenith, and was beginning to descend the
western arch of the sky. There was a coolness in the air that is
peculiar to the midnight hour, and a stillness that made the heart
instinctively suppress its throbbings.

She walked quickly on, and econ reached the low wooded head-
land where hcr brother had discovered her with Louis. The

, moonlit lake was spread out before her, sparkling in the beams

of light as the rising breeze dimpled its placid bosom. The same
breeze lifted the dark trosses from her‘ brow and neck, and
rustled amid the foliage of the trees above her head.

“ He had a sail in his boat. This welcome breeze will bear-

_ him quickly to his vessel and away from danger. My brother,

in his anger, is capable of anything, and the suspicion presses
upon my mind that he has galloped to some of the fisherman’s
huts to get a boat and assistance to intercept him- But with this
wind, Louis will escape his enemies. Though it will hear him
farther and farther from me each instant, yet I rejoice in seeing
it strengthen its force. Perhaps if I look closely across the water
I may discover his white sail, the signal to me of his safety.”

She bent her eyes over the water and looked long and earnest»
1y, but could see nothing save the silvcred sheen of the wave.
flashing in the moon-beams as far as her vision could penetrate
into the shining haze that hurried over the horizon.

She was about turning away with disappointment and appre-
hension lest he should have returned as he came around the
bend of the lake, and so be exposed to any boat from the shore,
when with a joyful exclamation she extended both hands in a
direction to the right towards the western shore of the lake. A '
snowy sail was vis.ble less than a league standing eastward.

“ He is safe! It is Louis, And he is safe, from my brother i” was

. her glad cry. “ He has hoisted his sail and will ere long be on
. the deck of his vessel. My joy at his escape from my brother’s ven-

geance leads me almost to forget t_ "peril in which he is about
tobe placed. But I commit him the care of Him wbohaa
hitherto watched over us. Perhaps in two weeks he may return
a conqueror, and then my happiryess will be complete: for he will
return to claim me as his bride! oh! sweetbridall when two

hearts. that have so long and faithfully loved shall be one never >  i

to be diasevered !" ,
Filled with these pleasing thoughts, she seated hes-self upon a
gnarled root of the old oak that grew above her, and watched ,, -
with ldve's untiring eye the distant sail of her lover’s boat. Sh. ; ‘:
knew it was his. The instinct of love told her that beneathitl
silvery shield set the form dearer than all else to her on 
She sat watching the little sail till it faded in the distance can. ' ._ "

the lake. till the memory of its image alone remained upon 

retina of her eye. , .‘ . 1
" Farewell, noble Lewis !" she sighed. “ If the prayers of a" ‘ ..

true and a fond heart will avail thou wilt soon return with honor; 1"

_But whatdo‘lseel Thereieanotber boat; a a a logger-17815..“ '

twou‘ite, just creeping oath-om the land, with core as am 
as the feet of a centipedo. WithVaI-s and nails  
headway andis in hot pursuit It must be Robert,  
wudommmmaotmu gain 

 

 

‘

to overtake Louis are he reaches his vessel. Heaven protect him
and send him beyond reach of his foes. Would that the wind
would now die away. There are full ten oars by the movements,
and they move rapidly. Louis is already more than half way to
his schooner, and if he does not loiter wili reach it in safety.
Obi. that I had wings to fiy and inform him of the enemy that
is pursuing him, and urge him to fly with our aml sail."

She rose up and watched with the most eager anxiety the pro-
gress of this new object upon the hitherto quiet lake. It was,
in truth, a large lugger, such as was used by fishermen of the
Gulf. It carried two low sails, which shone brightly in the moon-
light, and appeared to be urged on its way by eight or ten oars.
it moved. however, slowly, compared with the light and swift
motion of the boat which had gone before it and was full two
leagues ahead.

Isabel watched it until she saw it, like the one of which it was
doubtless in chase. faded away in the distant white haze that
hung upon the horizon. She then began to dwell mos painfully
upon the dangers of her lover; and amid tears and prayers for
his safety, she sank weurjedly into a deep sleep.

Leaving her to her happy, oblivious repose, with the moonlight
shining upon her darkly lashed eyes and alabaster brow, and
turning into diamonds the tears upon her cheeks, with the head

resting- like a child‘s upon one arm. and the breeze from the lake
fanning her veined temples, we will return to the but of Manuel,
the fisherman.

The cutter’s boat, in which Louis had left the creek, had no
sooner passed out of sight beneath the overhanging branches
that shut in its mouth, than Manuel looked like a man greatly
altered.

He breathed heavily and byeathed freely two or three times
and then said—

“Thank the saints and the blessed Virgin, he is gone and his
men with him. I feared that they really suspected my business
to-night, and meant to stay my guests, whether invited or no,
till morning. well, I am safely rid of this sharp young captain
and I hope I shall not see his face until I get my cargo ashore
and fairly smuggled through. It is a rare escape; and I may

thank my stars that a Mexican privateer has befriended me to-
night. There goes his boat, the sail up and running straight

’ across the lake," he added, moving a little way along the bank
by his but, where an opening in the trees gave him a vista of

' the bright waters beyond.

I He then turned to enter his cabin, when his quick ear caught
the dip of an our in the water up the creek. He stopped and
listened, for he could see nothing, trees overarched the bay so
closely, forming; a sort of umbrageous tunn.l beneath.

“It is Nita. Ikuow the stroke of her paddle in a hundred.
She has returned soon i" -

He descended to the side of the water and leaped into one of
the lugger's boats, which was drawn up on the land, and looking
' up the narrow but deep creek, by stooping so as to see beneath
the foliage, he distinctly beheld a boat gliding down towards
him. An opening in the branches above it let in the moonlight
for an instant and fell upon the face and form of a young girl,
who, was standing in the sflirn of a small light pirogue, and
skillfully and rapidly paddling it down the stream.

The next moment she gracefully brought the sktfi' along side of
the boat in which the smuggler stood. and, sprang into it.

"You are returned in good time, Nita," he said, taking her
hand, and then kissing with prideful affection her brown but
‘ handwmc cheek. ‘

“I was not delayed in towa," sac responded. in a richly-«keyed
, voice, the accents of which were perfectly musical. “I found
Monsieur Delforme at his house, and gave him the information

‘ v-  you sent by mel’ v

“ Prompt and faithful, Nita, like yourself," said the smuggler,
lay'mg his hand kindly upon her brow. “ You would have been
 hero had you been a man. It is in you anyhow. What said
' Monsieur Delforme ?" s
' “He told me to tell you that your readiness should not go up.
.‘I «worded, and that everything should be prepared as heretofore

, v .y. for receiving the freight you forward." .

, , "‘ ‘EBuenoi ,That is all I. want. How come in and take some
 and then go to bed, for you must be tired with this long ,

 

“ No, father. The current helped me for the first two league!
and the, moon shone so brightly that the labor was rather a.
pleasure than a toil. But who has been with you, sir ?" she
asked quickly, as she entered the cabin and saw the signs of the
recent visit of the cutter’s crew.

“ Some of my old friends from the Ringdovc," he answered,
laughing. “ They staid but an hour, and have just gone.”

“ From the Ringdovc I Who? Was as: among them ?"

" Whom do you mean ?" asked the smuggbr, staring.

“ I mean was Captain Louis with them!"

" Faith he was, and went with them too, If you will tab two
steps aside from the door and bend your glance between the
trees, you will see his white sail on his return to his vesse ."

“Just gone. Would that I had been here sooner 1” she said,
with deep emotion. “ Did he ask for me ‘P"

“ That he did, I’ll be bound. You never see one of these
young officers forget a bright eye when they had once seen it.”

“What did he ask ?" inquired the young girl, who seemed
wholly indifferent to everything but the visit of the young Cap-
tain of the cutter. “I would have given my eyes to have seen
him.”

“No, no. Your eyes are worth a pair of royal diamonds.
You can see him for less price, girl, by and by, for he will be
cruising here again in a month or so; after I have cleverly got
my casks of wine to the city. Come, drink this coffee. It istho
best cup I have ever made, l'm thinking.”

“ No, father, I can only talk of this young sailor."

“ Then morc’s the folly that you can't. l-Ie cares little for you,
girl, though he (lid ask for you. Besides, what would he have to
say to a poor fisherman‘s daughter but that she should blush to
hear her named. You have seen him once, and that is enough.
Nay, if this is the way the wind blows, it is once too much. Ho-
has a lady in his eye and in his heart too, I am thinking.” _

“ I know it, sir," she answered, with all the nervous quickness
of jealous love. “ But he never will wed her."

“ Nor will he ever wed thee. So put him out o’ thy mind, and
drink thy coffee and go to bed. If the wind blows up sharply i;
may bring the Portuguese brig in to—night. We shall then have
enough to do. I will go and take a look out eastward and see if
an ythiug is moving.” -

With these words the old man reached up to a pair of beckots,
placed over the rude pallet which formed his couch, and taking
down a night glass, covered with old and well-greased canvass,
Went out and mounted a flight of rude stairs that led from the
ground at the western end of his but to its roof. Ho ascended
to a sort of platform, which was built around the chimney, and
from which he had an uninterrupted prospect of the lake in the
direction of the outlet. Placing his glass to his eye, he began
to sweep the offing with great closeness and attention.

The young girl remained in the hut. She seated herself at the
table, and placing her check in her hand, (it was a very small
hand, soft and exquisitely shapeo. though as brown as a berry,)
and seemed to be brooding over and thoughts. The light of the
smuggler's iron lamp fell softly; upon her and, revehled a very
handsome face. Dark brOWn hair, soft and flowing; dark Arabian ,
eyes, and the most bcwitching, rosy-ripe mouth that ever was.
moulded by Cupid for a lover’s temptation. She was slight 
smallin figure, but as graceful as an antelope. She wore a green
silk handkerchief, bound with a charming effect about her brow,
its color contrasting finely with hazel sun-browned hue of her
pretty forehead. The brows were arched, and as black as if

' drawn accurately with charcoal. The eyes that burned beneath

were full of [fire and expression—the expression of womanly feel-
by}; rather‘tban of mind. Yet her face was intelligent, and
strongly marked with good sense and that self-supporting confi-
dence which gives point to character. Her form, though she
could not have been more than seventeen or eighteen, was the
perfection of womanhoodin the soft undulations of its modem,
yet voluptuous outline. She was a little Hebe,lmd\made to U
loved and to love. Well might old Manuel be proud of her.

\,

 

 

W

9

 

‘ CHAPTER VI.
mLOOKOVI'.

m meditations of the young girl were suddenly interrupted
by the sound “of her father’s voice calling to her from his lookout
on the roof. "

“ Ho, Nita! come up hither."

“ What is it, sir ?" she asked, rising and going to the door.

" Your eyes are younger and sharper than mine. I want you
u; see what you can make out of what I have caught sight of.”

The young girl lightly mounted to the roof by the steep stair-
way, and after glancing around over the bright waters, said—-

“What is it you see, sir i"

“ It looks to me like a sail in the oiling. But take the glass
and see what you can make of it with your bright eyes," said
Manuel. slowly removingjhe old spy-glass from his right eye
and placing it in her hands. “Not that way, girl. You are
looking at the cutter’s boat. Turn the glass four points further
“fit.”

“I will in a moment, father," answered Benita, who had
taught sight of the boat in winch Louis was making the best of
his way to rejoin his vessel ; and she continued to watch it as if
she had been called up to the roof for no other purpose. The old
smuggler grew impatient, and, Liking the glass by the extremity,
he turned it round and levelled it in the direction of the opening
to the gulf.

“That is the direction, girl," he said. almost sternly, though
rarely did he ever speak sharply to-her. “Now, what do you
make of her ?" —

“There is a vessel, sir, plainly."

“ So I could have sworn, though I was not quite sure, till
your eyes had seen her too. What is her rig ? Can you 'tell
that too i" '

“Two masts, father. But whether a schooner or a brig. I
cannot tell." ,

“ You have told enough. All I wanted to know whether it
was a vessel at all. It is as faint as a wreath of mist on the
lake in the break of morning."

" I make out, distinctly, that it is a Vessel, sir, though very far
of.

“Yes. Full twelvo miles, if one. It may be the Ringdove,
which I know is off there. but I rather suspect it is our brig;
 inshe looks square rigged, as Well as I can make her out. How

does she seem to you ‘2" ' . ~

“Going away very fast, father. She will soon disappear. Oh,
that I could have seen. him once more. The sail is now diminish-

' kg to a point." ‘
" What are you talking about, girl ?" cried Manuel; and look-
\ fig, he saw that the glass was no longer directed towards the
ofig and the strange sail, but turned upon, Louis' little boat,
which seemed alone to occupy her thoughts. " The child is be-
witched. Give me the glass, Nita, and go to bed. I am glad, for
your sake, that you did not see this young officer tonight. He
neonate have got into your head like a glass of wine. Stay,
before you go dowu. answer me soberly and truly, one or two
Mons.” This was spoken in an impressive voice, and he laid
hi hand as he addresed her, firmly, but kindly, upon her shoul-
der, while his eyes, from beneath their thick, grey brows, gazed‘
closely upon her own dark orbs.

“ Say what you please, father, I will listen," she answend,
dropping her eyes beneath his scorching gaze, and looking as
if she anticipated the inquiries he was about to make of her.

“Have you seen this captain of the Ring Dove more than once?
Have you seen him since the time, three months ago, he staid
half the day in my house here,- till the storm, which detained
him, passed over? Then I know you talked with him, and seemed
to Ike pleasure in his society; and truly, be is a young gentle-
man welliitted to please a niaiden's eye; but it should be a young
we of his own rank and order, not one so lowly as thou art.
Thy virtue and good name, Smugglers daughter, as men call
“.areall that thou hast. They should bechcriahedaetbo
qplsof the eye. Hastthou seen him since that time. thatthoa

‘ gust nigh wild when thou art told lie-has been here. and gone,
white-o! Am nu thly,  For} uk-iorthy‘

 

w
good. Thy happinesaisdearer to me thanmy ownlite. Thou

hast been an angel in my lonely home, to bias it, and I should.
be an ingrate notto try tomake thee happy. Freely, and frankly,
answer me I” -

“I have seen him since, dear father l" she answered firmly,
though with deep blushes, heightening the rich brown beauty of
her cheeks. .

“I suspected as 'much.  could not believe that such a deep,
nervous interest as you have shown in him tonight, could have
got head out of that one interview, and I present nearly the

‘whole of the three hours that he was in the hut. When and

where was it then then didst meet him ‘2” g
“ Eight weeks ago, tether? It was by accident. It was when

you sent me to the city, to aunt Josefina; to stay a week. I was a

at vespers in the Cathedral, kneeling, and devontly engaged in
my prayers, and telling my beads—the string of costly pearl
beads which you gave me my last birthday. I was not looking
about me. I was thinking only of my prayers, and did not know
any young gentleman was regarding me. Somehow, as I was
running my beads over, the string which held them parted, and
my pearls fell to the pavement, and went rolling away from me
on all sides. I sprung to my feet to recover them, and was
assisted by two or three female slaves that were kneeling near

me, ant! soon had them all but one, the largiest of them all. ' ‘

While I was looking round todiscover this, a young gentleman
came up, and bowing, held it out to me, saying that he had
found it under the railing of the chancel. As I looked up to
thank him, I recognized—" , ‘
“Louis Dumont, I‘ll be sworn, for a peso l" interrupted
'Manuel, with a smile, though his words were abruptly uttered
“ Yes, sir. He also recognized me, and exclaimed—‘Dona
Benita! Is it my'happiness once more to have the good fortune
to see you, and to do this slight sevrice for you?”
“ A very pretty speech, doubtless. And what reply made the
Dona Benita ?”
“I thanked him, sir, for the pearl, and without making any
reply, I bowed and left the Cathedral.”'
“ And did he leave, too?”
" He did, sir. " I
“So I guessed; and followed that”,
“ I could not help it, sir."
“ And spoke to thee; too?”
I “ Yes. sir.” .
“ And you could not help answering?”
" No, sir.” .
“ He accompanied thee to thy aunt Josefina’s, I'll wager
thee ?”
, “ The street was his to walk in, air. I could not pment hill
walking whither he would.”
' “ Evsn by thy side, if he chose?”
“ No, sir."

“ And he made love to thee, girl ‘l” demanded the old  \

somewhat sharply. ,
“ No, father."

“I dare say he talked only to thee of the Sainb and Heaven, : ‘-

and thou didst answer him in kind. He went to the stop 0' the
door with thee, did he 2" ‘

“Yes, father.”

“Did he go in ‘2”

“ No, sir. Nor have I seen him since.” .

“So, then. he parted from thee there. Was itth skins!"

“ It was broad sunlight, sir. ' ' t ‘,

“Then, had there been moonlight for the  he would
have kissed thee 7' i

“I do not know, sir. He but took my handle bismuth:
bidding me good-bye, said he  not soon forget me."

“ And I dare swear you said as‘much to him."

" I know, father, the modesty becoming a maiden, wild \and “

rude as has been the way in which I have been brought up. I
said not that I should never forget him; but I felt in my hurt
that I never should.’ i ‘ ._

“ This, then, is all?”

“ Save that I am  him daily,

wheathinking of him. Thispearlwillalwaysbrhg Ian-um};
nonsmokefiqwodswmflemdd‘em

 

C " \.

 

 

I In“  her neck to her lips, and touched it with love’s simple
but ardent devotion. Old Manuel shook his head. The frank,
wtleae undisguised statement made by his laughter had caused
him painful feelings. He saw at once that the young sailor had
won, perhaps unknowingly, her young warm heart; and that un~
less the passion. yet in its infancy, was checked in its growth, it
would destroy her peace. He was deeply attached to the lovely
girl. Rude as his life was, he had brought her up with the ten-
derness of a cherished house plant. , He had taught her all
that he knew, and what was beyond his knowledge was commu-

nioated by his sister in the city, an old Spanish woman, poor but ’

‘ pious, who initiated her into the mysteries of needle-work, and
other feminine handicraft. But the facet of her time was passed
' a in the cabin of old Manuel, whom she assisted in his fishing,
and as she grew older, aided naturally in his smuggling opera-
tions. Theyoung girl, ignorant of the nice'distinctionsdu na-
tional law, saw no crime in evading the excise duties. If she
ever had a question of the lawfulness of smuggling arise indie:
mind, old Manuel had smuggler’s logic'to meet it, and overthrow
every scrupIe. .

With natural independence of character, and a certain wild
freedom of conduct, the necessary result of her mode of life .in
such a home as Manuel‘s, she retained that sense of maidenly pro-
, priety and innate modesty which will always comiiianth the re-
” upset of the modest. Not a breath had ever tainted her good

name, among those of 'her class, though she was often thrown

into the companionship of the young fishermen of the lake as

she accompanied her father in his pursuits. .

Manuel had listened to her confession of love for Louis with
painful interest. He was sorrowful that she should .place her
affections, not only upon one who was her superior, but upon
one who could not return them were be her equal. While he

, Jelt pity‘for his daughter, indignation towards Louis kindled in
his breast. Be well knew that he was betrothed to Isabel Rosa],
and that his business up the lake that very night was to visit her
to say farewoll before he departed on his Cruise. He accused
die young seaman of treachery and duplicity. _

“ Benita," he said, gravely, and looking deeply troubled, “ the

‘ past may not be recalled, but the future is in our hands, and we
may do With it what we choose. This young man is not only
above you in rank, but he has gno heart to give you in return for
the noble gift of your own. He did wrong to say that he Would
never forget you. Those words inspired in you hopes that can

never be realized Louis Dumont is betrothed to Isabel Rosal l”

“I know it, father," she answered, firmly.

"‘ Then why do you love him ‘2” he exclaimed, with a look of
surprise. ’

"‘ i cannot but love him. Besides, sir, I know that he will
never marry her i"

“ You know it! How can you prevent it? ' Rumor hath it
that they will soon be wedded. How know you this that you

,apeak so positively ?"

“I believe that they will never marry, ’ she responded, with
hesitation, and such confusion that he regarded her with amazo-
ment;'for, hitherto, he had Only seen openness and candor in
all that she did and said. ' '

“ You shall learn, dear fatlier. I fear that you may be angry

 ’ with me. But I cannot control the impulses to which my love
urges me. The first moment I beheld Louis Dumont enter the
doorof the cabin, three months ago, I loved him. He spoke and

{my heart hung upon his words.' He smiled and my soul was
A v lighted up with joy. It was a happy three hours. I could have

prayed that the storm might have thundered over our heads for

evar, so that I could bask within the sunshine of his presence l”

“Was it so, girl? I ne‘er suspected - it l” said Manuel, partly

J i‘aiirprised and partly in sympathy—for at the bottom the old

~ Imugglor had a generous and kind heart, and dearly lewd the

beautiful girl to whom he was, as it were, now acting the stern I

of father-confessor.
“ It was so, “father. When he departed he took my heart with

.Hauuel‘, angrily

‘.‘ This is amazing! ‘ And did he then seek to win your heart?”
j,‘  no, father! * It seemed to me that he loved more to talk

manner" ~ . - rt,-

 

than with me. But as I looked, and listened a his

“This is strange. I saw nothing on’t. I must have been
blind. Forget him, child l. He cares not for you. He did wrong
to speak to you at Vespers !"

“ He could not return me the pearl, sir, without speaking."

“True. I had forgot that! But he, loving another, should
not have walked by thy side. But perhaps he did not know tin
mischief he was doing. But it was wrong altogether for him»
to say he would never forget thee.” ' '

" It made no difference to me, father. I am certain I should
never have forgotten him i”

“ You are in a bad state, Benita. I would to the Saint; you
had never met. Mischief, I fear, will come of it, The best he
can do is to mar Mademoiselle Rosal as soon as possible. This
will cure you, and save much evil work in the and.” ‘

"He can never marry Isabel Rosal, father,” answered Benita,
with extraordinary energy. .

“ Ho! What is this?” Why so? Will you kill him, hey
This comes to a pretty pass, by San Diego 1 Can’t marry her 1’

But Benita made no reply. She took advantage of her father's
surprise and vehement words to escape down the stairs and ro-
enter the hut.

CHAPTER VII.
THE IIORSEXAN.

“ C/m’r marry Isabel Rosal !" repeated Manuel several times, as
he once more placed the spy-glass to his eye. “ What does the
girl mean? She put an emphasis on her words that meant some-
thing. I am sorry for the child. Louis Dumont has done her
great injury by showing her attention. But perhaps he did not
know the impression upon her heart. For his sake, I trust not.
But he should have been truer to Isabel Rosal than to have said
to Nita he should never forget her. These words show that he
thought more of her than he ought. ,When next I see the youth
I will talk with him. Benita must not be trifled with and this
mischievous love between them must be stopped where it is.
Evil will come on’t else l” '

Manuel had now brought the glass to his eye, and once more
levelled it in the direction of the vessel which he had before dis-
cerned, and which could not yet be seen with the naked eye.
He could not now see her at all. After looking for her some
time he turned the glass upon the little boat which contained the
captain of the Ringdove, and which was still visible with the
glass, though now at a great distance off.

“ The captain makes good way,” muttered the old man: “ He
will soon be aboard his craft, and the sooner the better. I would
like well to know what sail that was, and what it was about there
in the offing; for sail it was, and a brig at that; thoughposoihly ‘
itmight have been the little cutter-schooner after aligning by
for her captain. ‘But it is more likely to be the Portuguese l”

The dense], which he thus designated, was one of the regular
traders bet woen Portugal and New Orleans. She had been, for
“you years, making two voyages" annually between Europe and
Lake Borgne, freighted principally with choice wines. Her eon-v
siguees were merchants in New, Orleans, and Manuel was the
chief agent in unloading her cargpes and putting them through
to the city by the inland passage of the bayou, which had an out.
let within a few miles of the port. This bayou, was navigable
for batteaux only, and only for these at flood tide. It wound its
tortuous way through the level and dense forests of tho'lako

' region, in the rear of. the plantations.

This had-been for many years the haunt of smugglers, and
ovan of buocaneers, who had kept possession of it in the very
face of the laws ; and successfully opposed or evaded every force
that had been sent to dislod them. , x, .-

At length they were broken up by the war, and for some you.
the smuggling ceased, and the bayou was supposed, to havebeen
choked up by the drains of elluvian from the adjacent land;
Manuel, the fisherman, however, who had been long a r’eaidaiit~
of the lake-shore, know well that it was open, and navigable at”. 1
high tide. But he kept the secret to himself, and by'meana'ofli '
be m able am: to statesman tthowWomW_

l. ‘ magnum

 

 

 

  

v—— -———r

At length, it chanced that a vessel from Lisbon, laden mostly
with wines, bound to New Orleans, was driven into the lake and
wrecked, not far from Manuel’s usual fishing ground. He ob-
tained about a score of casks of wine, and secretly conveyed
them by the bayou to the city. where he sold them, free of duty,
to Delforine dz 00., the consignees of the Portuguese brig, forua
round price.

This led to an understanding between them ; for this house had
the reputation of having been once engaged in smuggling with
Lafitte, by the way of the Barritaria bay, and Manuel well knew
with whom he had to do.

It wasarranged between them that he should be as their accom-
plice or agent at lake Borgne, and there receive and scorcth cont
vcy by battcaux to the city, such casks of wine, silk goods, and
other articles as might be brought into the lake by a. vessel se.
lected for the purpose.

Under this arrangement Manuel had, in the. past seven years,
been the successful instrument in transporting through the bayou
no less than eleven cargoes of wine aml other freight. The Yes
scl usually arrived twice in a year, and as near the same day as
possible. That information might be suisonably conveyed to
Manuel, he was in league with Pierre, :1 fisherman who dwelt on
one side of the (‘bandelcur isles, and who, at, the time the vessel
was expected to arrive, \\ as actively on the lookout. Upon her
arrival off the islands, l’icrrc would hoist the sail of his little
pirogue and sail up the lake to convey the intelligence to Manuel,
who, in like manner, would dcspatch L‘cnita to his employers.
Thus, by the time the brig could manage to tltill into the lake
under cover of the night, all parties would be ready for her re_
Ception, and at hand to dispose of llt'l' cargo.

Rumors of Manuel's agency in such a contraband business had
been of late unusually aeti\ e; and Louis resolved that the
Istrictest watch should be kept on the old Spaniard, so that if pos,
Sible he might cntrap him. For this purpose he often paid him
a visit, in a friendly way, to talk over the news of..1he day, and
at the same time act as a spy. He could, however, discover no-
thing to confirm the rumors. Manuel suspected the true object
of the captain's visit, and while he received him hospitany he

was cautiously on his guard; and Louis left him without having
.made any other discovery than that the beauty of the old smug.
gler's daughter fully bore out the praises he had heard of it.

The young captain was about preparing for a second visit,
when, as we have seen, he received orders to cruise in the Gulf
in search of the Mexican. Although these orders Were received
by him with joy, yet he was not a little disappointed that the
opportunity to pounce upon Manuel was thus lost; for, through
his spies and enquiries, he had not only satisfied himself that a
vessel unloaded opposite to Manuel's door once or twice every
year, but at the same season every year, and that season was now
at hand. It was, therefore, quite as much with an eye to take a.
peep into the bay and drop in upon Manuel, as to have an inter-
view with Isabel, that he left his schooner and pulled up the
lake.

He was not far out in his information. That very afternoon,
Pierre's little skiff had landed at Manuel’s, and brought him the
intelligence that the expected brig was lying nine miles off; the
Chandeleur isles, and if ,the wind served, would make her run up
that night.

This information was communicated by Manuel to Benita, and
jumping into the pirogue, the fearless girl here it to the city.
On her return, when within about a mile of the lake, she passed
a but hiddenrin the trees ; to a stake, near which was tied a large
square batteau. She stopped paddling as she came near it,
lightly grazed it in passing, and taking from beneath the thwart
upon which she sat a small sharp arrow, to which was attached a
little red flag; she stuck, it into the stern of the batteau, and
then, with aliorn that hungat her girdle, she wound three shrill
blasts, and darted again on her way. Half a mile farther down
she passed another secluded but, and batteau fastened near it,
into which she threw an arrow and a second time wound her
horn.

Before the echoes in the first case had died away in the silence
of the dark forest, the hut opened and a man cam: forth, and
blew a horn loudly in response; and then, calling up two other!
who slept within, the three proceeded to unmoor the batteau and
embark in her towards the lake.

 

 

‘11

At the but the occupants, two tall men, were slower in making
their appearance; but they responded with a blast from a born,
as the former had done, and also prepared to embark. In less

than half an hour both batteaux were slowly floating down the
sluggish current of the bayou—~now seen as they pass the open
space in the forest, where the moon light could make its way-—
now invisible iii the darkness, of the overhanging branches that
arched the stream, and which compelled them most of the time
to stoop low to the boat to avoid contact with them.

Manuel remained upon the roof of his cabin, with his glass 9.
his eye for Some minutes after Benita descended, but he could
see nothing more of the vessel: mid believing that both had
been deceived by their wishes, he glanced an instant at a little
white speck, all that appeared of the boat in which Louis was
flying towards the Gulf, aml was preparing to go down again,
when the sound of horse's feet aloyg the sands of the lake shore
suddenly arrested his ear.

“ Who can that be ‘2" he exclaimed, listening, and endeavoring
to penetrate the thick trees which interposed between himself
and the beach. There was a horseman's road at low and half-
tidcs along the borders of the lake ; but rarely traveled,
especially at that hour of the night. “ Benita," he called to the
maiden, who was walking up and down in front of the door, with
a firm, spirited step aml an air of troubled thought; for she was
dwelling upon the madness and folly of her passion for the young
seanian, yet still feeling that, rather than forget him, she would
still love on even in despair.

“ But I will not (leslmll'dfi she cried, vehemently ; “ he may yet,
forget Isabel l-tosal, for the baris already placed to his union
with her. Then, when he is cast off there, he will. remember me.
He has told inc—oh ! sweet Words—that he would nevor forget
me. How dear is this reflection to my soul. I will love, though
to love were to perish. Oh! that he knew how my heart wor-
shipped him! But—but——-”

“ Benita, ho l"

“ Sir," she answered. recalled after being hailed for the third
time by her father. .

“ One might as well have no ears as not to bear with then."

“ Sir. What is it ‘2" ’

“Do you not hear that horse golloping ‘3"

“Yes, sir."

“Go to the lake shore and see who it is. It is all but a chance
it may be some one coming to see me. Yet, they may ride by,
up to the Black-boy settlements."

Benita heard the echoing hoofs as they fell upon the hard sand
of the lake shore. She at once hastened to obey her father, and
with unusual alacrity, for her curiosity was excited by the rare
event of a horseman scouring along the beach at night; though,
by day, occassionaly a negro slave in search of stray cattle, or an
overseer pursuing a runaway, would pass along the lake shore.

\\"e have said that the cabin of Manuel was situated a few rods
in the rear of the lake and on the bank of a narrow dark creek
that made up from it; that not only the but was invisible to one
sailing by on the lake, but the entrance to the inlet itself could
be discovered only by one familiar with it, or who watched the
current flowing outward. A shady path led from Manuel’s house
straight to the lake. This path was now taken by Benita, ant
she soon stood where she could command the beach for some dis‘
tance. As the trees stretched far over the beach and dipped into
the water, the road which she surveyed was, save here and there
where a moon-beam crossed it, intensely dark. Yet, in motion,
through the alternate light and shade, she distinctly saw a horse-
man advancing. As he came ,to the creek he plunged boldly in,
and in a few seconds landed on the sidb where she stood, and
within twenty feet of her. Without stopping, he spurred up the
bank, with the bold familiarity of one who had before been the
same path, and, gaining the place where she stood, was about
galloping towards the but, when, at the sudden sight of her, his
horse reared and threw his rider to the ground. His left foot
was in the stirrup, and the animal, now still more alarmed at the
event, was dashing forward to the right through the forest, when
Benita, with great presence of mind, seized him by the bit and
with strength almost supernatural, restrained him, while ah.-
shrieked to her father for help. a

   

 

.~el L“ I; “116..”

 

 

Manuel flung down his glass and hastened with such good
speed to her that he come just’ in time to take the plunging horse
by the head, when her courage and strength were failing her.
He had alreadypdragged his almost insensible rider as well as
herself several yards ere Manuel reached the spot. He now
grasped the bit with an iron hand, and with the other closely
held his nostrils, while Benita, with ready self-posession, flew

- to disengage the boot of the horseman from the stirrup, which,
I. being unable to do, she drew the fielierman's knife from her
'father's belt, and severed at a blow the stirrup’s leather.

“ Well done, brave girl," cried Manuel, letting the horse go,
and hastening to raise the stranger from the ground. “ You are
not much hurt, I trust, senor? " he asked, as Robert Rosal, with
difficulty, stood upon his feet.

“ Only a little bruised, good Manuel."

“Por Diosl It is master Rosal l ”

" It is so, Manuel. I should'lieve been dead, but for the aid
of thy brave daughter here—for Such I doubt not she is, thong
I have never met her before." I "’

" Yes, and a good girl she is. Thanks to the holy saints that,
you are no worse hurt, sir.” '

" I am so thankful, senor,’ exclaimed Benita, warmly, her fine

face, on which the moon light closely shone, Jiushed with the
glow of her recent exertion to restrain the horse. "

“ I owe you my life, noble maiden," said Rosal. “ At one mo-
ment lifecred you would let him go. My heart was in my mouth.
I was at the animal’s mercy, Manuel. I tried 'to raise myself
from the ground to reach my foot, but in vain. The horse leaped
forward madly. He lifted the fearless girl~ from her feet, yet slie
held firmly on..  tossed his head madly, and neighed with a
fierce, hissing sound, he “Ls so enraged. Then it was I trembled,
lest. in her terror, she should give me up. I called to her to hold
him a little longer, for I heard your steps vibrating along the
ground. Thanks both to thee, "Manuel, and thou, fairest of maid
ens—And be assured, I shall never forget you 2”

“Fa very words,” repeated Benita, in a half‘tone. “ How
strange .

V “Let me lean upop thee, as 1 walk, senora. What is thy
ulna ‘2'." he asked, in an under voice.

" Benita." .

" Yes, so it is. «‘I have heard of thee: but having been always
from home, I—‘have not met thee ere now. If I have my wish, it
shall not bathe last time. I must know, and learn to love one,
to whom I owe my life !"

Benita trembled, and lgoked downward, timidly giving her
hand, to sup rt his steps, while Manuel hastened on before for
the prepare ‘on of a strengthening cup of his good wine.

CHAPTER VIII.
,m Leeann AND snmaux.,

-;, Tim wine will now put new life into you, senor," said Manuel,
 _re-appearing>from' ,the cabin, and placing the glass in the hand
,1 ofthd injured horseman. " It will do everything but mend broken

.
‘7  young min received it, and drank it off, though not with-
 first looking at Benita and saluting her.‘ She was standing
  thadoor, at the side of which he had seated himself, upon a
‘rude bench placed there! I
"‘j‘You say none too much in praise of your wine, Manuel,”
fiid‘lfiobert, returning the glass. *‘ I already feel my blood
 again. I will be as sound as ever in a few minutes.”
u‘f‘After emptying another, master Robert," said the old man
 in to replenish the cup. I -
,, Eliot! shall require no more. Besides I have business on the
“:1 eheuld think‘it full pressingfthe' way you rode along the
~ , J and brought to as youywere, by a beam-ender l”

was this handsome ,maiden‘s fault, Manuel,” answered"

smiling,  he glanced with admiration upon Benita, who
at, fusion. "She we in the path, as I rode ,"up the bank,

ammo, ‘mgaainnowsywmmmch:

 

cued and threw me. If she had not, however, stoned for it.
mischief by seizing him by the head, I should, by this time, have
been beyond the influence of thy good wine, Manuel.”

“I am sorry, sir, that I should have been the cause of your
fall," said Benita, very sincerely.

“I am not. I would rather owe my life to thee than not. It
has a new value now I” I '

He said this with a subdued tone, and at the same time took
her hand and pressed it with warmth, She hastily withdrew it,
and disappeared 'in the cabin.

“ By the mass, Manuel, thou hast a rare jewel in thy little
home," said Robert, with warmth.

“ Yes, fair and good, master Rosa], I would not give her for a
king's daughter, thoughI shall have but a few gold ounces to
make her a fortune out of. But how is it that I am honored with
a visit from thee. It some ten months since you earn 's way,
and then in chase of a stag.” 

“ Yes, and that stag led me many a mile along the lake shore
after I had passed the cabin, Manuel. If I ever come this way
again, be sure it will be after a fawn—no less a deer than tby
daughter.”

“ This is too light talk, young man, from thee to me i” ,

"Nay, I speak it gravely and with sincerity. Wilt thou be-
lieve me, Manuel, when I say I have lost my heart to her this
night. "

"Then it were a heart easily lost, and often, and thou wilt.
soon find it. She is not for one like thee to think of, Master
Rosa], When Benita weds, it must be with a poor, honest fellow
who is her equal. if thou hast other thoughts of her, than those
most honorable, breathe them not to me."

“Nay, I swear to thee, Manuel, thou dost mistake me. I am
no man of pleasure, \who, like the hawk, which banquets on doves,
or the wolf on lambs, prowls after innocent maidens to seek their
ruin. I am a man of honor, Manuel. The good sepvice Benita.
has done me, has Won my gratitude, and inspired me with love
for her. She is as beautiful as an houri. I care not for birth”,

" I know not the girl’s mind touching thee." answered Manuel.

' v' But I think thou hadst best forget her, as surely thou wilt, ens

three days pass.”

" No, never; I owe her my life, and I will owe her my future. '
happiness, by sharing my life withhher. Give me your consent,
Manuel, to sound the maiden’s heart."

“ There will be time when thou knowest her better, and she

-thee. Let us now talk of what brought thee to my cabin."

“ Iliad well nigh forgotten it. The presence of your daughter-1
has made me oblivious of everything else. I will see her'and
thee further by n/nd by, touching my passion.” ‘

“The passion of five minutes’ intercourse by moonlight, cannot
be very deep,” answered Manuel, coldly. “ So let it not take up.
Our discourse at any future time. To what circumstance am I
indebted for the honor of this visit ?"

" You shall bear," answered Rosal, rising up and speaking
with animation, all his feelings of revenge against Louis having-
resumed their full force in his bosom, unextinguished even by.
love. “Come with me along the path.‘ I can walk now very’
well. I know you are no friend to the Revenue Captain, Louis.
Duniont.” . V ., l

“ Well,” unawared Manuel, as they at length stopped near the

l ke. ' .
a“ He is now on the lake in his boat. Doubtless he has been,
here as a spy, and contemplates some mischief to you. His boat
is just visible in the dfistance. I wish to__pursue him. He has
dared to address my sister—nay—-—they are betrothed. I heard
it in Mexico, communicated to me there by some unknown friend,
I hastened hither to stop the nuptials, and reached the villa to-
night. I found the“ captain there, holding an interview with my
sister. I challenged him bu, the spot. My sister interposed. She
managed to get my sword from me and cast it into the lake. He
took this Opportunity to fly to his boat near by and escape me.
1‘ have galloped hither toiling gold into your cup, if you will at
once man a boat to pursue him." '

This was spoken with fiery vehemence of feeling. His  ‘ k
glmed—his eyes flashed—and his whole manner betrayed tho 5

most bitlfer vengeance.

' «way should not-Loui- numc m Isabel we _‘ ‘-

 

 

“ Why l Do you not know that my father fell by the hand of
his father? We are foes, he and I, by inheritance. If he crossed
"not my path I let him pass, and cared not to avenge my father's
fall upon his head. But since he has dared to aim at an alliance
with my sister—with the daughter of his father‘s victim, I shall
not rest until we have crossed blades. This is my determination.
He is now in his boat on the lake, and alone. He is in my power,
so that you give me a boat at once to pursue him. Thou and I
will be enough for this. You shall have gold at your wish."

“I have no small boat, master ltosal.’ answered Manuel, in
the manner of one who felt quite indifferan whether he under-
took the enterprise or not.

“I see two drawn up on the bank there."

“ The , are mere skifl's w‘ithout sails."

“The wind is blowing fresh. Get your logger under weigh.
This is better than any other boat.”

“ I have no men with meJ master Rosnl."

“ If report says truly. the blast of your horn will rouse half a
score from the depths of the forest about your cabin. ~ Come,
some, Manuel. x You must not say nay. What, are you so reluc-
tant to OVerhaul and capture one of your greatest enemies ‘1"

“Captain Louis never has yet troubled me, master. Besides,
I don’t much like to take even an enemy at disadvantage. It is
not my way to come upon a man by surprise. I like to do what
I do open and above board." ‘

“ And so do 1. You mistake mo in supposing I wish to take
advantage of Damont to capture him. I wish to cross Weapqis
with him in fair fight. 1 wish to bring him‘ before the point of

' my sword, where we can settle our feud. ]f_'I overtake him, I
will fight him in his boat, breast to breast, and you shall look on
and see that the combat is a fair one, Manuel l” V
“ Well what gold will you place in my hands for this service-—
for my lugger and six men ‘!’ '
“ Twenty ounces, if you owrtake him, and half in your palm.’
._ “Very good”? ‘ ’
"I But there Is no use of so many men."
“Guptain Lofils is not alone in his boat. | You may have seen
him alone by the cliff, but he stopped by here and took on board

four stout, fellows of his own crew, whom he had left here to re.

fresh themselves while he sculled alone up to the cliff! ’

“ You seem to be on friendly terms enough with these revenue
men, Manuel, that you entertain them in this manner.”

".1 entertain all who pass this way and choose to leave silver
for the wine they drink. I never ask what a man's profession is
so his coin be curmnt. Ilis men came and went as I said. and
he with them. -So if you would pursue and overtake him and
bring him to combat, you must let me take a full crew."

“ Well, as many as you will," answered Rosal. “ Ifhe escapes
me tonight, I fear I shall ‘not fall in, with him again. My leave
of absence from my vessel is already half expired, and I am re-
solyed that he shall be put out of the conceit of marrying Isabel
before I return to my brig.” ' ,

“ Bicn ! We will/sec. “, In twenty minutes I will be ready for
you, masterfanswcred Manuel, walking towards the edge of the
bank where the lugg‘cr was secured, and commencing to haul her
in to the share by the line which held her. I t was a large'open
boat, with masts, of about teutohtcnp'acity. I .

Rosa] walked slowly towards theiloor of the cabin, and seeing
a light hanging: within, over the ’lnblc, he entered. ille looked
round for Benita, who was seated by, a low window, the reed
shutter of which was thrown open, and looking out upon the

lake, a glimpse of which was visible through the opening, along I

which the path extended. She had been closely watching the
movements of her father and his guest as they stood in the path.
As Rosa] entered, she rose with some embarrassment, and with
native courtesy, said—' \ 3
' “ Be seated, senor. Are you better ‘1" .
" Much! Indeed, I scarcely feel any of the effects of my ao-
cidcnt,” he answered, seating himself upon one end of the bench

~' { which was placed beneath the window. "I cannot be hatisficd, _

-  Bonita, in coldthanks for the service you hays done ins;
 acceptthis little token of my gratitude.” '
7? she spoke hc‘rotaovcd from his little finger a brilliant din.

 and taking her- hand, for she hadrlsen and still stood by’

lv_.   him,"  wouldva placed it upon it;

 

__ .‘ ,__-

“ No, senor,” she said, smiling. ‘I “ I have done nothing worthy
of such a token. If I had not been in the path, your here.
would not have thrown you. I have rather to apologise for the
mischief I caused. I could not do otherwise than risk my life to
save a life I had endangered. Keep your ring, senor."

As she spoke she disengaged her‘little hand from his hold,
and with modest dignity stepped back a pace. Rosal, who
was in every sense a gentlemen, his only dark shade being his
unforgiving feud against Louis Dumont, for his father’s "murder,"
as he chose to express it, was struck with this most becoming-
propriety in one whom from the place in which he found her, he
expected to find brusque and bold.

Robert was about to make some remark to her to break the
silence that had befallen them both, when the voice of Manuel
was heard without, and other voices in reply. Rosal started up
and was going out, when Benita sprang towards him, and said,
eagerly: '

“ Where do you go tonight with‘ny father Y"

Before he could frame a reply. Manuel came to the door and '
said that the boat would snon be ready, as the men had arrived.
Robert went out and beheld seven or eight men in their battens
at the landing. In twvuty minutes more the lugg'er with the
whole party, Benita excepted. left the inlet and stretched away
across the lake '

CHAPTER ix.
’ TEE BARK AND ITS ADVENTURE.

Tm: luggcr had no Sooner departed on‘ her enterprise, than
Benita ascended to the lookout to watch its progress, Her sus-
picions \vcre excited by such a mysterious departutf at that hour
of the night. The question she had put to Robert Rosal‘he had
not answered; and her father had been so busy with the~ men,
that she had not an opportunity of learning from him its object.
That it was not cohnccted with the expected brig, she felt coni-

dent, because her father would never have taken a stranger with
him on such an expedition. It was not until the lugger had got
some distance out into the lake. that the truth flashed upon her;
mind. 
“He pursues Louis 3"
alarm. “Why have 1 been so dull? He has come hither to get

a boat to pursue him ! Oh, that I had known—‘-—that I had 8118‘ \

pected this l The lugger pursues the same course that he did,
and seems to use every exertion to make progress. I Seenow
through it all 3 Stupid and blind I If I had even suspected it,
I would have used all my efforts to prevent it. Cannot I do it
now ?" she asked, with quickness. ' ' i ,
Once more she levelled the spy-glass at are logger, and then
searched closely in the distance for Louie's boat. But it had
sometime before sailed out of sight.

“ He may csca-pel' But I will not suffer Louis to be endann I,
gated, and endangered through me, too, without making an effort

to save him from his enemy. Yes, Robert Rosal is his foe, and
it is I who have made him so. It is I who have been the instrne'
ment in bringing him from Mexico, and kindling the limb? re—
sentment in his breast againd; Louis. Why did I not anticipate

this result? Why, when I sent .him information of his .sister’i-  i

love, did I not forsee that he would destroy the lover in hisanger Y

she cried, with mingled surprise and =

. _\».
a

l have overdone my work, I see it all now. , He has come hither, V  1‘ I

and taken boat/to pursue one whom I would lose my life am"; ’7 I
I will save him or. perish with him. If my suspicions  
fears are true, I may not be too late. Robert Rosal owes his

life to me. and for my sake he will forego his purper r" ‘-..

\ How closely had the maiden guessed at the" truth. mj an, 
did not suspect in the outset, suspicion now created in her'mind’ -

and confirmed. - i

The sudden presence of Robert Read at the cabin surprificd 1
her, though she anticipated that he would return home 

Mexico; for it was “trough her he" had received intelligeuoox ,

9
‘1
.K
M
3‘

thatan wuahouttobgmarried to  g I

' "his presence could only we“: it. She m not.  

 

 

1.4

W

 

aspect the object of his visit to the cabin. She at'first believed
that he had got knowledge-of the source from whence the intellis
gence had come to him, and had visited her to question. This
idea filled her with shame and confusion while'he was present.
Each moment she waited for him to speak to her on the subject
and she trembled at being questioned, lest he should discover the
motive that had led her to take such a step. She therefore kept
reserved and out of his presence, and was glad to see him leave
withmit questioning her. She did not, from fears for herself,
once think that the preparations she saw going on bad reference
to Louis. She looked upon them only as connected with the
brig. But when she saw Rosal enter the boat with the rest, and
beheld it take its course across the lake, in the very track taken
by Louie’s boat, then the truth flashed upon her mind only to
overwhelm her with grief.

She now acted with promptncss and decision. She left the
look-out, hastened to the War—side, and launched a light skiff
that lay partly upon the bank. Slut placed in it two ours, and
upon a third, bound firmly by two of its corners, her large scar-

: let mntilla, which she set upright to see if it'would answer for
a sail. w, r ‘ 3
" She then placed it on the seats, and taking the oars, pulled out
of the inlet, into the lake. After passing the drooping branches
of the trees that concealed the entrance, she hoisted her little
sail, and laying her course she let tho little bark go bounding
away after the logger, her heart throbbing with Solicitudc and
hope.

The wind had by this time freshcncd, so that the waves broke
about the prow in white caps, and there was every appearance
that it would freshen to a brisk gale. Still, unalarmcd, she kept
on rapidly leaving the dark shores. The sail, however, being
very low, did not sufficiently hold the wind, which with the
strong landward tidcbdriftcd her rapidly to the North and East;
ward along‘t’he shores of the lake. She found that she was
going as fast side-waysas forward, and that if she continued to
progress  such a manner, she would lose the logger altogether.

She thbrefore rigged a second sail out (if her shawl, upon an-
other oar. This aided her for a few minutes: but a sudden freshen-
!ng of the breeze carried it away, and the dashing waves tossed
it, oar and all, beyond her reach. '

Shehow tried to make her way along with the single sail, but
he fastenings to this were shortly carried away, and it went fly"
ing through 'the air upon the wings of the wind, like a huge
flamingo: with her pinions spread. She clasped her hands in
despair.

" Blessed Virgin, be,thou there and save Louis! Heaven is

' against me!"
'/ Still she was not daunted. She took down the 011', and with
the other, which had served her-as a rudder to steer the boat
with, she commer rowing. But the tide was against/her, and
the wind by no means in her favor. ‘ ,

In a httle while she looked up, and found herself close under
a low cliff, towards which, for the last quarter of an hour; she
had been steadily drifting. She saw at a glance that to attempt

to get round the cliff, and once more get an offing, would be in .

.vain. Nevertheless she labored hard at the oars ; but where she

made five feet forward, she was blown seven towards the land. .

In despair she dropped her oars, and raising her clasped hands
to Hench, she strained her eyes in the direction in which she
had last seen her lover‘s boat, and prayed with tears for his
‘ ufety. ' \
’I‘he prayer inspired hope. Hope gave resolution and courage,
and she once more resumed her oars. But all in vain. "it heavy
- billow caught the little bark upon its shining, bosom, and tossed
“It-lightly upon the sands at the foot of the cliff.
, She sprang out, and with the spy-glass in her hand, hastily
, ‘ dished to the headland, that she might take a wider view of the
3.10, and lee if the lugger was still in sight. It was with tears,
,half blinding her beautiful eyes, and a heavy heart, and many
.. bitter words of condemnatiOn Against herself, for not suspecting
‘ . til so late, the dark purpose of Renal, that she‘gained the top of
  though it had called though three-fourths of its

 voyage, was stillshlning brilliantly, and a lier heath. . I

in, ., aimy cloud, an hpon the "award, throughthe branches
. . . , x. . ,
to noble math» grew upon thejcllfl. ' ., . ‘

 

 

Benita stepped back with an exclamation of amazement and
fear. Directly in the light of the moon-beam, her head pillowed
upon a mossy root of the old oak, lay a maiden robcd'in white,
her arm beneath her check, and her eyes closed in profound
sleep. >

Was it a vision? or was it a mortal form? She stopped and
gazed intensely for a moment, and then coining nearer, she
recognized the lovely countenance of one she had but twice or
thrice seen in hcr’life, Isabel Rosa].

She stOod looking down upon that beautiful brow, and for the
first time felt the sharpness of jealousy.

“ so lovely ! I wonder not that Louis hath loved her., .Will
he ovdr love nle as he has loved her? Alas, if he should scorn
me, I have done all in vain. I hlavc destroyed this fair girl's
peace, and not secured my own. I will awake her, and speak
to her. I can, perhaps, learn from her, whether her brother pur-
sues Louis." I

Jacinta bent down and laid her hand softly upon the check of
Isabel, and said, in’ a low tone— I

“Maiden, awake."

Isabel sprungr to her feet and gazed upon Benita with bewil-

,'.

'dercd surprise. , r p

“ th are you '? Certainly one so fair, cannot be.a messenger
of evil “I”

.“ I would not be, lady," answered Benita, ‘ ‘I am the daughter
2f‘Manucl the fisherman." ‘

“ chryes. 1 have before seen thee. What do you wish that
you see me here ‘2 The hour is towards the morning. I should
be at home !”

"‘ It is by accident thatI meet you, lady," answered Benita. ‘
“I was on the lake, in a boat. You see that the wind blows

L‘high, though the moon is dazzling bright. I was driven to land.

Below there you see my boat upon the sands",

“I see it," an'swered lsabel,inorc assured; and approaching
her with curiosity, she could not but admit her extreme beauty
of face and grace of figure. _  '

“You are, then; Manuel’s daughter?” she said, kindly. “I
wonder that you should remain in such a rude manner of life—-
one so fair as thou art, too i ” ~

“ He is my father, and it is my home. Home is dear to us all,
however humble." _

“ Tine. I have often wished to see and speak with you.
What are you doing upon the lake? Were you fishingl'

“ No, lady,” answered Benita, with embarrassment.

"Have you been sailing far?" I

"No, I embarked not half an hour since.”

“Then you cannot have seen the boat. ‘ Yet you must have
seen the lugger too."

“ What boat, lady ? ” asked Benita, desiring to bring her out.

" Have you seen a lugger with many oars rowing on the lake ?
I fell asleep Watching it, and it is no longer visible.” Ahd she

,\

\ vainly scanned the horizon of the lake in search of it.

" You will see it with the glass, lady,” said Benita, who, after
discovering the logger with it, handed it to Isabel, and pointed
out its direction‘ from them. . I
“I see it now,” she answered.‘ “But how-odd. Do you ‘1.
ways carry a spy-glass ‘1," ’ ‘
“ No, lady.” I   ‘
“ You are almost a sailor, I fancy. I have  that you go 1
fishing on the lake with your father l ”  ~ '
" Yes; it is my duty to aid him in getting a hubsiaénco.”
“ Yours must be a strange, wild life, Benita. Have you never
alover 7" ‘ , ' '
“ A lover, lady '2”
“ Bless mel It is impossible Ithat you are.» prettin ignorant
of the term? Have you no brave, fine young fisherman that you
dream about and prefer to any other person in the widewodd 7"
“All the young fishermen are alike to me, lady."
_ “ Indeed. And you so pretty and only eighteele
not nineteenn Can you'read? " ’
, " Qua, my 2* repeated Benita, smiling. I, - , _
‘  " Yes—have you ever been to school, living in thatwild  ' 7"
and with strange. rude people 1” . \

{'1 have an aunt in the city; with whom I have spent  , i I r
a»: crane. some Wilma wmud'wdté.§na‘fi$ ‘i‘

 l

\

\

 

 

work; and has besides given me a taste for books. _ I owe to her
a great deal l She has taught me to be religidus also. I am not
wholly savage.”

“ Pardon me. then, for my impertinent inquiries, Benita. I
cénccived you must be quite ignorant; yet your beauty and in-
telligent looks might have told me the ‘contrary. We must be
friends. ' You must come and see me.”

"I will do so, lady, as ~soon as I can leave my father. But I
am unused to move out of slowly sphere. I am too independent
to he‘your dependent ; and my habits have not fitted me to be
your equal."

“I like this answer. It betrays character and proper spirit.
Pray what were you doing in a boat alone on the lake tonight-—
and at so late an hour? I confess,” added the beautiful girl,
with a confidential smile, “ that I have the greatest curiosity to
know." >

“ Will you‘then tell me what you are doing, lady, at so late
an hour, sleeping by the lake-side ‘1" said Benita, archly.

“ThatI wont promise. Yet I do not see why I need conceal
it 'from you, Benita. ‘ You seem to be so good that I can make

“you my confidant with perfect safety.”

“ I should be happy to learn the reason ; though it is possible
that'l may guess it.”

“ Guess it ‘2” repeated Isabel, blushing deeply crimson.

“ Yes, lady. Was it not to watch the departure of Louis Du-
mont ‘2" '

“ You have well guessed. But what know you of Louis, or his
departure? Have you seen him tonight ‘2" she quickly demanded.

“ No, lady. I knew that he had been here and had left, and
supposed you were here to watch his retiring sail. Am I not
right ‘2” asked Benita, with a’smilc.

CHAPTER X.
run RIVAIS.

Yum remained for a moment silent, before answering me m-'
[airy of > the young girl, and then replied:

" Come, then, and sit by me, Benita, upon this gnarled root.
I will tell thee truly why I am here, and thou shalt tell me also,
wherefore you were abroad on the lake tonight.”

“ I will keep nothing from thee, lady.” \

"Then so much the better. Know then, Benita, that I have a

' lover. A lover is—for as you don't know, I shall have  explain

to you—a lover is a very handsome, noble young man,“ with fine
eyes, a generous heart, and who thinks you the best and ‘fairest
person in allhthc world. A lover sighs when he meets you, looks
sllsxlébashful as a maiden when he is spoken to by you, and——
a —" i ‘

"And becomes your slave, that he may, by and by, be your
master ?’ '

" Who ever told you such a thing ?" exclaimed Isabel, startled. _

,and looking with amazement on the wild, smuggler's daughter.

“ My old Spanish aunt. Josefina.” ‘

“ Well, all I have to say is, that she seems to have had experi-
ence, which you find I have not, and may better delinepa lover
than I. So I Will'say no more on this score. I have a lover,
but he is not one who will answer either to the definition of this
mint Josefina, or to any that I can give. 1'10 is quite above
praise, Benita.” I . '

“ He must be a very good young man, then i”

it He is. He is all that is good and true. I have known him
from a boy. We loved as children, and love now as lovers. But

- on, true love never yet run smoothly! something away; ob.
structs its placid and pleasant flow. My brother—have you ever
seen my brother Robert, fair Benita?” ‘

“ Yes, lady. He has passed our cabin while hunting.” .

' Benita thought she would not yet tell her that he had that
very night been to see her father. She did not k\n'ow what sflect
it) \ ht produce. ' '
" ‘He is a'kind brother, save in one point. He loves not,
> one who loves me! Unfortunately, our fathers met in a fate.
 many years ago, and mine fell by the hand or my
lasers ashes. _'l‘his« event has left a lasting impression upon
Matt’s-mind, He has never forgiven the son for the father’s

at unites. totes,me l“ “‘3' W m" I

. . \
I

 

.youinfluonoeoverhimwisht handout-cam.

" It is very natural, lady. I wonder that you can love on..."

" Do you wonder? You would not, if  knew the amiabb
character of Louis. His name is Louis—Louis Damont.”

“ Captain of the revenue cutter Ringdove?”

“ Yes. Have you seen him ‘2"

“Once or twice, lady. He is very noble-looking, and I won-
der no more that you love him than I do that he loves you. Yet
I should think that you would always have the remembrance of
your father‘s death to chill your love l"

“ It does not. He is innocent himself. My father was slain
by the laws-he“had drawn up to regulate the duel. Louis is by ‘~
no means to be responsible for his father’s act, even were it.
otherwise. It would be ungenerous, indeed, even to suppose I),
for a moment.” I '

“ And your brother yet thinks so? 3 . _

“ Yes. It seems natural, too, that he should have somefpelin'g.
Gentlemen look upon these things with very different eyes from '
what we do. I know Well that he would oppose our union. We
therefore, kept our purfime secret from him. But some enemy
‘sent him intelligence, and tonight he arrived here in great‘l‘n-
ger, and chanced to come upon us when we were conversing to;
gether on this very spot; It was a most unfortunate meeting, and
so unexpected, that we were taken quite by surprise. High
words ensued, and they would have come to blows if I had not

, possessed myself of my brother's sword and cast it into the lake.

Persuaded by me, Louis regained his boat and left the scene. I
wonder who could be such an enemy to me or to Louis on t6
bring my brother, whom I supposed in Mexico, thus suddenly
and revengefull y upon us, to mar our happiness and shatter our‘
hopes l” I r

“ It may not have been an enemy, lady,” said Benita, warmly.

“Who could it have been? What motive could induce them
to such acourse? I do not know whom I have offended, that
any one should thus envy my happiness." ~

“It may have been from different motivesthan you ins-@130,
lady,” said Benita, in as even a tone as she could command, for
she felt that her heart was throbbing with guilty  ,

“ Ii can conceived. none butmalicc or revenge.” v

9 And Louis escaped 7” "Whither r’

"‘ He came in a small boat from his vessel which was becalmfll
outside; and after going down the lake to take on hoax-drill.
crew, which he left a little way up the shore, he set sail screen
the lake. It was at Manuel's, he said, he left them. Did you
see him Y” O _ l

“I‘was not at home. My father told me he had been there.’

“ And that logger was purspcdl Why have I not questioned
you before? Did not the luggcr leave your father’s in chose 2” "
she asked eagerly. . a;

“ Yea. Such was my suspic' n. It is now confirmed. lady. ‘.
as it contained your brother l” . '

“ Robert 7”

“ Yes, lady. He come there a little after midnight—+-

“ On horseback?" , - , ~_

“ Yes. He remained about an hour, and then left with my

father and a half a dozen or more men. They stood tom-l the ’
«lake—and—«nd —~—" ~

“ And what ? I feared this. What next I" ,
“I then suspected that they were in chase of the boat h
which the captain of the cutter had embarked, and touring the ‘
worst, I embarked in pursuit, hoping, if I overtook them, byvmy .
influence over your brother and my father, to prevent mischief? " ..

“ Your influence ovc my brother?" demanded Isabel. quickly 
“What debt does he owe to you? How is he  to you?"

“ He was throwu fx'oxn his horse near the door of my father"!
cabin. I was near, and seeing that his foot was 
stirrup, sprang to his aid. At the risk of my own life [saved 7
him from being dragged a mangled corpse through the for , if???

" Did you this for my brother, Benita? Then be my sister 1’ ‘
cried Isabel, and throwing her arms about her she warmly em-I:
braced her\ " In sawing Robert’s life you have notonly 
him to you,‘but me also. Washe much hurt!” ,, . . , ‘ . '

“ But slightly, though he at first {seemed to be a good deal is
jurod. Bathe soon recovered. and, as I said; My 

. embarked with my {sunset in the logger-3’ , ~ -

- fitment“,  u.st  mam had you t9 

v.3. I  fry.“ 3  " »

V \

 

 

 

“tam.-

jary to Louis. I saw the logger in chase, and feared that it com
coined Robert. And you put off alone in'your boat, noble Be-
nita ?”

“ I did. But as I had no other mast than an car, no sail but
my mantilla, and the wind being fresh, while the current flowed
landward very strong, I could not shape my course; and after
losing my mast, I was driven upon this shore. I ascended the
bank to see how the lugger was going when I beheld you asleep.”

“I fell asleep watching the lake. I am filled with fear on
Louie’s account, after what you have told me. -_I wish you had
prospered in your bold enterprise. Is it too late now? I will
embark with you.” ,

“ We can do nothing, lady. The lugger is also out of sight.
My only hope is that he may reach his vessel before they come
up with them."

“ Heaven grant it! _My heart is oppressed at the sense of his
peril. forbid that Louis and my brother should ever meet I
if they should Louis would fall, for he has promised he will never
raise his hand against Robert, save in self-defence. What shall
be done ? But why are you so interested in Louis ‘2”

This question was put abruptly, as if upon a sudden reflection.
Benita dropped her eyes and it was some seconds before she re~
plied—-

“ I did not wish blood shed, lady l"

“But how came you to suspect that Robert pursued him?
You could not have known of their hostile interview tonight 2"

“ I did not."

“ Nor of hostility to my brother, because you could not
have known it. It is very strange why you should have had any
such suspicion ; and then, without kn0wing Louis, to embark
alone to save his life from Robert. What was Louis more to
you than Robert ?"

“ I cannot explain all my impulses, lady," answered Benita,
smiling. “ See, the wind has lulled considerably. I must take
my boat and return." J

" Not yet. Let me look once more through your glass? It is
possible that we may see the lugger returning."

“ And you are right,” answered Benita. “ There it is to the
leeward, on the left here, and easily seen without the aid of the
glass. Look between the trunks of these two oaks."

“ Yes, I see it now plainly. Yet it may not be the same boat."

“ Give me the glass, and I will at once ascertain ‘2"

She placed the telescope to her eye, and, after a few inoments’
scrutiny, said very decidedly—

“It is my father‘s boat. They return without having been
able to overtake the cutter's boat."

“Are you sure of this? Oh i I could cry ror Joy and gladness."

“ How guilty I feel," replied Benita, “in having sought to
destroy the happiness of this girl, in severing her from Louis.
Yet, she loves him no more than I do. Nevertheless, my heart
smites me; I am a robber. He is hers and not mine 1 Oh, that I
could forget him."

“ What is that beyond the lugger ?" suddenly exclaimed Isabel.
who still had the glass up to her eye.

“It is a vessel,” cried Benita, with surprise, “ and there is an-
other to the windward of her. They are not five miles off; we
should have seen them before, but for the branch of that tree.
The wind and tide have kept them to the northward as they came
into the lake."

“How much you seem to know about the sea, Benita. Can
you tell me what the vessels are ‘2"

“ Give me the glass, if you please ‘1"

The young girl looked through it a moment or two very atten.
fively, and then said, with a tone of pleasure : v

“ One of them is the Ringdove. The other, I can only guess
'who she is. "

“ The Ringdove! .Are you sure ?”

“ Yes, lady, I cannot easily be mistaken in her.

“See! what is that ?" cried Isabel, starting. “ Is it lightning!
Yes, there is the thunderpeal following it. We are to have a

storm.’ ‘

“ That lightning,” said Benita, in an agitated voice, “ is the
flesh of a gun from the cutter, and the thunder its report.”

“How fearful! See-there is another—end another. - What
u it mean i "

“ The other vessel WWO" beck! "

 

 

4- J
- ‘—

 

 

" It is the privateer he has chased into the lake," said Isabel.

- greatly excited, and her fears at the peril in which she saw Louis

placed.

Benita said nothing. She eagerly watched the vessels. The
cause of this firing she well knew. She saw by the flashes that
the other vessel was a brig, and guessed that it was the one that
her father had been looking for. The cutter she saw had discov-
ered her, and was endeavoring to bring her to. She now under.
stood why thehuuledhad turned back, her father and Rosal hav-
ing seen the cutter approaching. She felt thankful that her
father was out of reach of the firing. while her prayers Went up
side by side with those of Isabel, for Louis's safety.

The two vessels were now plainly visible. The moonlight
shone brightly upon their sails. They were about four miles oil“.
The cutter was farthest out, and nearly astern of the brig; while
the logger was about a mile and and a half ahead of them, mak-
ing for the land, and evidently anxious to escape from the danger
behind. The cutter kept up a sharp cannonadiug for several
minutes, which was responded to by the brig, while both vessels
close lugger stood rapidly up the lake.

With the glass Benita watched every movement and reported
them to Isabel, who was too much excited to watch her herself,
and closed her eyes at every flash of the distant cannonading.

 

CHAPTER XI.
THE CHAsE,

We will now follow Louis on the departure of Manuel, the fish-
erman, to return across the lake to his vessel, which lay some
miles off. We have seen him with the eyes of those who
watched him, stretch across the lake and disappear in the hazy
distance of the horizon.

The wind, which had at first been blowing alight four-knot
breeze, strengthened as he advanced, so that about the time that
he ceased to be visible to Isabel, as she watched him from the
cliff, he found it necessary to take a reef in his little sail.

“If this wind holds twenty-four hours," he said to his men,
“ we shall be up with the Tortugascs in that time, and perhaps
fall in with the privateer thereabouts at once.”

‘ It will be a feather in our caps, Captain," answered the old
seamen, who pulled at the after car, “if we can take that cram
They say she is a brig of about two hundred tons, and draws
twelve feet 0' water for’ard, carries six-pounders, and a pivot gun
amidships. This is what the men said as was in the schooner she
boarded, and I talked with in New Orleans."

“ We shall be a match for her, my lads. The waves begin to
grow large,” he added, as one broke over the bows and drenched
the men at the bow oars. “ But we have only a couple of miles
or so more to run. I can already see the little Ringdovo ahead,
laying too for us, and a signal-light at her peak."

The men simultaneously turned their heads as they rowed, for
they had put out their cars during the last twenty minutes, to
help the boat hold to windward, the tide setting very strong to
leeward, and drifting them out of their course? The sight of the
light, and the indistinct form of their vessel, inspired the seamen
with new energy, and they made their boat bound over the waves
with additional speed.

“That will do, my lads. We are far enough to windward
now. Ship your cars, and take your rest. In twenty minutes
we shall be on her deck."

“ Sail, he i" cried the old seaman, Ben BuIWark, to whom Louis
had first spoken. “ A sail dead aft, sir.”

“It is a small boat, and at a great distance; probably a fish
erman going out to -is ground,” responded the young officer,
after looking back and watching for a moment the pursuing lug-
ger, which was so far astern that none but a seaman’s practiced
eye could have distinguished it, from the White caps of the
breaking waves that intervened.

The boat dashed on her way for a few minutes longer under
her reefed canvass, the four men seated quietly looking out for-
ward, and Louis at the helm, sending his keen glances all around

the horizon, and particularly along the opening, by which the

  

  

w

[the communicated with the gulf without. He was in search of
the smuggling brig. He had reason to believe, from all the

'facts‘which his apes and his own observations had gathered,

that about this time the vessel with which he firmly believed
Manuel to be connected with, would appear off the coast. This
idea was strengthened by the conduct of Manuel in his cabin,
where he seemed to be impatient of the presence of himself and
his men, and anxious to get rid of them, as if for a particular
object. ‘

' There was nothing, however, to be seen of any other vessel
besides the Ringdove, which they at length approached, as she
sat like an ivory palace on the sea—her white sails shining as
bright as snow in the broad moon-beams.

“ Boat ahoy l" hailed a hoarse voice from the cutter's decks.

" Ringdove.” responded Louis. c

The shrill whistle of the bootswain now broke upon the still-
uses of the air piping to the gang-way, and the next moment
Louis steered his boat alongside and sprang to the deck.

“ What news, Gladson 7’ he asked of his first lieutenant, who
receive him.

" Nothing, sir, save that we have got a good wind, and that I
am glad you have got back; for we have been losing twelve
miles every hour it has been blowing.” '

“ Well, you zhnll not bé detained a moment longer.”

“ Shall I make sail, sir.”

“ Aye, at once.

The loud cheering voice of the officer was now heard resound-
ing along the deck of the vessel, and the men, long impatient of
the delay, sprung with alacrity to obey the orders given out.

In two minutes the sharp bows of Ringdove were cleaving the
waves, her top-gallant sails and royals Were spread to the wind,
and, like a race-horse given the ruin, the graceful little schooner
went bounding away in the direction of the wide waters of the
Gulf. ‘ .r

Louis stood upon the quarter-deck, watching the proceedings
of getting sail on his craft, and then, calling for his spy-glass, he
began to examine the horizon ahead with keenest scrutiny,

" Has nothing like a sail, been seen, Mr. Gladson ? ’ he asked,
as he opened the glass and fixlid it to his eye.

“ No, sir, nothing. We have kept sharp lookout."

Louis swept the surface of the lake about, and then recollect-
ing the distant small suil he had seen astern when in the boat,
he directed his glass in its direction. To his surprise he found
that it was now distinctly visible, having advanced very rapidly,
surpassing the speed of his own boat. IIe let his eye rest upon
her for a few moments, and then directed the attention of Glad-
son to it. ' ' l

" What do you make it out, sir ?" asked the oflicer, as he pre-
pared to light a cigar at the binnncle lump,

" A lugger. But. what is strange it soils like an Italian polacca,
and is rowed by at least half a dozen oars.” ‘ .1

“ It may be some boat connected with this smuggling Vessel
you expected to be on the coast, sir." u
_ " Possibly. Fishermen, merely, don‘t go out with such a crew
as sheseems to have ; nor do they usually make such speed.
The fellow is doing his best with sails and (in-s. Perhhps it is
as you say. But touching this suspected vessel, my, informatiou
is too vague to make any calculations upon.”

"I thought, sir, you had certain intelligence that thclast of
this month a Vessel would be sure to arrive‘from France or Portu-

_ gal, laden with wine.”

u What I heard was this. You know that last year when we

‘ discovered the casks, which were without Custom House brand,

in theyard of Delaforme’s stores, we were satisfied that smug-
gling was carried on. I resolVed to go to the root of it~ I paid
spies. and, finally, my information led me to suspe‘ctMumel the
Spaniard) So I paid him a visit, and'the result proved to me
that he was in some way concerned in the bmincss. I at length,
by a heavy bribe, corrupted one of the clerks at Doleforme‘s,
and from him learned that twice a year, for seven years past, a

Vessel loaded with wines had discharged her freight up the lake,

" and that it had been conveyed in batteaux, by Manuel and his

"crew, to the city, through a’bayou, which has been lent since

"-ppooedtobe ohohdupand imp-gable."

 

fl "--
fl

“ Yes, and doubtless it has been. I am sure that General Jack-
son had it filled up or its waters turned ofl', to keep the 
from availing themselves of it to pounce upon the city 1”

" This clerk Silld that this vessel arrived every May and
October, towards the last of the month. On ‘this information I
resolved to give Manuel a call about this time. when the order
came to me to fit out and cruise after the Mexican privateer. I
obeyed orders; but I did not like to let Manuel goaltogether,
so I have been up to see how things look there.”

“ Killing two robins with one shaft, hey, sir Y" said old Glad
son, a grey-headed, hearty old lieutenant of fifty-two.

“ Yes,” responded Louis, smiling. “ I saw Isabel aim.”

“I guessed as much. But what did the Spaniard say at seeing
you 'I"

“ He was civil and friendly ; but he seemed to be very anxious
to get rid ’of me.”

“ Look here, sir,” said the lieutenant, with emphasis; " I will
forfeit my hopes of ever being an Admiral, if I don’t believe
that this logger is his, and that he is coming out to meet his ves-
sol or look her up. I don’t think it Would be 0. bad» move to let
him come up with us and bring him to, and find out his business.”

“It is possible. I. Butvseel He has fallen off from the wind.-
He ii tacking and standing northward. He don’t care to come
nearer to us than he is. He looks suspicious.”

" Bless me if it doesn’t, sir! Suppose we give her a gun and
bring her to."

“She is out of range. Besides, we must make the best use of
this fair wind to get to the eastward.”

“True, sir. If the brig that this logger seemsto be after is
ahead, we shall fall in with her.”

“ And there she is !" cried Louis, suddenly.

Gladson directed his eyes in the direction in which his captain
pointed, and saw, not four miles ofi', ahead of them, and directly
in their course, a vessel standing in towards the entrance of the
lake. Louis quickly placed his glass to his eye, muttering—

“ It is singular we did not see her before l”

“ She has been laying her course directly for us, and in‘xflu
rake of our eye. She has just squared away."

“ No, she is tacking. See! She is scarcely visible again.
She was goingin stays when We discovered her. She has seen
us and is running away. This looks suspicious I” , ‘

“ Do you make her out to be a brig with the glass, sir 2"

"‘ Yes, a brigantine—square forward and schooner ail. ShOx
anSWers exactly the description of the brig which was given me .

o‘by the clerk.”

“Then let us give chase. A bird in the hand. sir, is worth
two in the bush. This prize is‘in sight. We may never fall in
with the Mexican." / ~ I

‘51 think I will try to find out what she is,” answered Louis.
" Keep a couple of points nearer the wind, helmsman l” _

“ Aye, aye, sir 3” responded old Bulwark, who had the wheel.

The response was made with alacrity, as if he was alive to the 1

new scenes opening before them. The men also flew round to

braCe up the yards with unusual activity; and when, after a few
moments, Louis gave an order for them to go to quarters, than ‘I

was a shout which even discipline could not prevent. "\ g
“ This is not a Mexican, my lads," said Louis, “ that you no

in such good spirits. It is a vessel suspected of smuggling. Una } ‘
less I catch her in-the act, or find that she hasno regular ppm, ',

I can’t touch her., But I hope we shall be able to make some-3 "
thing out of her." ' ‘ I _ 

The Ringdove was about a league or little more astern of 
chase, and by changing her course as she did, she stood directly":
after her. The lugger was also visible farther in theentranco

the lake, steering the same way with the two vessels, which was. : ;
obliquely towards the opening to the lake. This opening wan ; ',
' about four miles wide, and had a shore on the north and 

sides—the entrance extendingén a direction east and west.

The two vessels were on the Gulfsideof the opening  I

a mile of it, and the logger about two miles within the mos
and the course of all three wasnorthwest or nearly so, with“ ~~
wind 8.8. to half south, and blowing- for the cutter In 
knotbreeae, tbmghit was soon Moll“ 
not make, more than nine hm men Lona  

tags. was Manges-thy min-set up" 

\ 

 

 

hiloourse, he continued to do so as the chase did, until both
were steering northwest right towards the lake.

After running about twenty minutes, Louis, who had the wind
of the stranger, and had forged ahead, till, when they entered
the lake, he had got nearly abeam, all at once bore down for
her to cut her off or else drive her ashore. The brig had no
alternative but to stand right up the lake, for she had a lee shore
on her starboard quarter. When Louis saw this, he exclaimed,
with exultation— ‘

“She is taken in a trap. We shall catch her without fail.
But I don't care to go up the lake again. Fire the starboard
bow gun, Mr. Gladson, to see if she won’t be good enough to
come to 1"

CHAPTER XII.

TH! BATTLE ON THE LAKE

Tm: smoke had hardly blown to leeward irom the discharged
six-pounder, when the gun was answared from the chase by one
' of heavier calibre, the sound of which was borne to their ears
loudly against the wind.” .

“ That was a twelve pounder, sir," said Gladson.

"Yes. It sounded like one,” answered Louis surveying the
brig through his glass. ” Sec l She fires again !"

While he was looking a flash lit up the chase, and the next
moment a spent twelve ponmler pounced in upon the deck of the
cutter, and, after striving aharncss cask. rolled harlmessly into
the waste. Gladson ran and caught it up."

“This is a Mexican shot, air. It has Copper in it mixed with
the iron. I shouldn‘t wonder if this was our privateer. after
all”

" It is not likely. This is the smuggling craft only, be assured.

But We must return her fire with something better than our
sixes, that won’t reach half way to her. When she hears ” Old
Jackson" speak she will know who she has to do with”
i The eighteeen pounder amidshins was n0” brought to bear
upon the brig, which was now about a mile and a huff distant.
The little vessel reeled and fearfully vibrated to her keel under
Its discharge. The thdndcr like sound sunk into the ears of the
two maidens upon the cliff, and made them shudder involuntarily.
It was heard by Manuel and Rosnl in the lugger and showed
them that the two vessels were becoming seriously engaged.

" Let us press all sail to the shore now that this revenue cap-
tain hasiescapcd me,” said Rosul. “I have no desire  bd
knocked over by shot from either vessel; and in a few minutes
if we keep this course, we shall be in the midst of their cross
fire. What brig is this?” .

‘, “It is more than I can tell," answered Manuel, who saw
plainly that she was not the expected Portuguese vessel ; for he
had steered near to her, Supposing her to be the smuggler, and
intended to board her. But he saw that she was a smaller vessel
and in her appearances quite a different craft from the Portu-
guese, besides, he knew that she carried only a couple of six-pound-
era, while he now heard firing and responding to the cutter's
H eighteen pounder, with four or five twelvcs, and an eighteen pound-
er, also. .

Manuel, therefore, was quite as desirious of keeping out of
her way as Rosal himself.

V For a few moments the 'two vessels kept up a Very brisk fire-
» jug. each instant drawing nigher to one another, for the chase

,had boldly hauled her wind and now steered so as to meet the
advancing cutter, as if wholly without fear. \

V ‘. “ The cutter had found her match,” at length said Manuel, as

, * e brig poured a whole broadside into the Ringdove at the dis-
- ‘ tanoe of three-quarters of a mile. “That vessel is the Mexican

. 1 privateer he has boasted he would capture. She has taken him

> I .all unaware: in the net of his own' words.”

i "bit peedble it is the Mexican '1" exclaimed Ronni, with uni.

batten. “ If I had thought so, and the cutter were only com.

 by any other man than Louis Dumont, I would go back

find help to defend her. As it is, I should  glad to hav9 him
., {all into the Nation’s hands." ’

‘i‘ -"‘:!ou don't,“ verypatriotieallv. Easter Room. 3.; a...

 

“r:
is none of my affair. You may depend upon it that the vessel is
the Mexican. She can't be any other; there is no craft in these
waters that answors her description. See that l The cutter gets
it heavily!"

As he spoke, the eighteen pounder on board the brig was fired,
and the shot carried away the fore-topuiast of the revende
schooner.

“The cutter will be captured—that is certain,” said RosaL
“ She is crippled beyond escape l

“She doesn‘t seem to be trying to escape. She is standing
right down for the brig with her remaining canvass. She means
to board.”

“Dumont is a brave fellow, there is no doubt of that." said
Robzrt. “I wish any other man commanded his vessel and I
should be on her deck 1" ‘

“ Yes, he is a brave fellow. But we are better where we are,"
answered Manuel, who, disappointed in not seeing the Portuguese
rum now believed that Pierre had taken the privatcer for her,
and so made his report. “It is my opinion the sooner we widen
our distance between them the better. While we have been
looking on, the two vessels have been forging their way, and we
are now under their fire, if they choose to point their guns in
this way l” .

“They are too busy to think of us,” said Robert, who, standing
up in the lugger, was watching-the two vessels with deep interest.
As a sailor and a naval officer, the whole affair was of the most
abSorbing character. Nothing but his deep hostility to Louis,
prevented him from urging Manuel to steer for the cutter, which
was now less than a mile distant.

The chase was separated from Louis's vessel by less than half a
mile, when the latter lost her fore-mast, and, this space was each
moment diminishing. The Ringdove steered straight for the
brigantine, firing every few Seconds from her long gun, while the
brig about once in a minute responded by a broadside. and
kept close up to the wind, so as to meet her. It was the
intention of Louis to board her. He had seen toolate that he had
become engaged with a very superior force, which could be none
other than the Mexican privateer.—-The idea that it was the
smuggler he did not entertain after the first broadside.

" We are fairly in now, Gladson,” he said to his old lieutenant.
“ and we must do our best." '

" Do you think it is the privateer, sir?" asked the officer, wiping
from his forehead the sweat and powder; for he had been firing the
long gun himself, not trusting any one else to level it.

“Yes. How she came to cruise this way, I can't imagine, un-
less in chase of the smuggling vessel I took her for. The vessel
I believe is somewhere‘iu the neighborhood.”

“It is likely, and accounts for her being here," answered Glad-
eon. " We are unfortunate in losingour top-mast. sir. They fire
their batteries confoundedly well." I

“ Yes. They haVe experienced gunners."

“ Can't you give her anceher shot that will cripple herb.
we come down on her quarter ‘1" .

"I will try to do it, sir,” answered the lieutenant, going to his
gun. ‘ ‘ '

“ Louis himself took the wheel and steered the vessel.
He was laying her course straight for the brig, and meant to lay
the cutter alongside and carry her by boarding. It was his only
alternative. The report of the eighteen pounder broke upon the
air like a clap of thunder. Louis watched the result. A loud
crash mingled with cries reached his ears; but to his disappoint-
ment the spare of his vessel remained standing.

“ Never mind another shot, Gladson. Divide the men into two
boarding parties. As I lay the cutter alongside, you lead one
over the brig's bows, while I heard her on the quarter!"

“ Aye. aye, sir, we will be all ready for the word l ”

The cutter was swiffly coming down upon her antagonist, a
little shaft her beam, so as to strike her quarter. The boarders
with pikee and pistols, took their posts, ooo half forward, and the
other hdlf on the quarter deck. The brig, seeing her 
poured in a heavy fire of grape and cannister, and, as she came
nearer, of 'musketry. Many were killed had wounded upon the
deck of the cutter, which nevertheless swooped swiftly down '
upon the toe, which, being to leeward, was M to receive
he: ' .

 

 

M

When the Ringdove was about fifty yards off from her, Louis
lurrendered the helm to Ben Bulwark, and scizing his cutlass
and placing a pair of pistols in his belt, he cried in aloud voice—

“ Boarders, stand by l ”

He was answered by a about from his men fore and aft.

“ Luff a little, Ben l ”

“ Luff it is, sir.”

“ Steady, as you are l ”

“ Steady, air,"

The next moment the cutter struck the brig heavily upon her
larboard quarter, and then sliding forward, lay alongside, bow to
bow. The grapnels were thrown and lodged upon the deck of
the brig, from which came grapnels also, as if the enemy was as
resolute as the cutter-men. Amid a close fire of musket“ end
pistols, Louis leaped upon the quarter-deck of the ice, wouowed
by his party.

“ Boarders away l" shouted Gladscn from the bows, and led
his men upon the bows of the brig through a cloud of smoke.
In a sulphurous cloud, from which flashed a hundred pistols and
guns, and from which rose wildly and savagely the cries of com-
batants and the clangor of steel.

What a scene for the light of the calm moon to fall uponl
Its pure beams could not penetrate the dark cloud of battle. We
will not unveil the horrors of the scene by minuteness of detail.

The contest waged for seven or eight minutes, and the crew of
the cutter was driven back to their vessel with the loss of half
their number, Gladson severely wounded and their captain miss-
sing. The brig had proved too strong for them, both in weight
of metal and in number of men. They outnumbered those of the
cutter two to one. V

The second lieutenant of the cutter, who had been left in
charge of her decks with about a dozen men, seeing how the
fight was going, proceeded to separate the vessels, when he found
that his party war falling back upon the deck, and before the
brig’s crew could follow, the Ringdove swung clear, and aided by
her sails forged ahead and out of reach of the boarders from the
brig.

“ The cutter has had the worst of it,” said Manuel, who at a
mile distant, in his lugger, was a spectator of the engagement, for
thedeep interest they. all felt in it led them to delay, as it pro
grossed, to see the result. “See, they have separated and the
cutter is escaping l ”

“ Yes, she flies. The brig opens upon her with her eighteens,
and makes sail after her."

“ And it is time we wore escaping. too, master Robert Did
you hear that ball go whining through the air over our heads—
not twenty feet high. It is time we were making for the shore."

The direction in which the shot was now fired, so as to reach
the schooner, brought the lugger in range: and although they
used sail and car to widen the distance, the two vessels, coming
one after the other, kept it still under the brlg’s brisk fire. The
schooner had got a long musket shot shead of the brig, which
was pressing all her canvass to, overtake her, when an eighteen
pound shot, passing over her, struck the water about forty yards
from the logger, rebounded, and lighted directly in the centre of
the lugger, going out through her bottom. Those it had con-
tained, and that were not killed by the shot, were at once cast
upn the waves to buffet them for their lives. While they were
struggling, the schooner, now become the pursued, passed within
half acable's length, under every stitch of canvass, and sweeps
out on both sides. ., _ ‘

“Ho, the schooner,” shouted Robert, who was with difliculty
flipper-ting. himself with two cars, one under each arm. ‘Save
a. We are perishingl”

“ It is Manuel, Captain Louis I ' cried the old Spaniard at the
flop of his lungs. “We have stove our boat and are sinking.
rNotnbre de Dios, save me i" .

The schooner passed swiflly by them, at the distance of lea
than fifty yards. 1 0 reply was made, save by one of the crew
on she passed, it said-

v “ It is as much as we can doto save ourselves, without stopping
for drowning men." ”

Robert Raul now gave himselfup for“ His only hope was
in being picked up by the brig, which was rapidly appmching,
myminuteor m firing from on other, beng the“

'

 

;
passing sometimes over their herds, and at others dashing than

with spray.

“ This is a serious night’s work for us, master Robert," ground
Manuel. “My poor little Benita. She will die of grief, when
she hears that I have perished. If she knew my danger Ill.
would be now praying for me to all the saints in heaven.”

"Do not despair, Manuel." and Robert, with fortitude. “The
brig will pass nearer to us and may take us on board. Thisil
our only hope. ”

“We shall be saved from drowning to be carried into a Mod-
can mine, to work in chains." ‘

“ We must run our chance, Manuel."

“If it is our fate, so be it,” sighed the old Spaniard. “If
we drown, shall you forgive Louis, for hatred of whom, ya:
brought yourself and me into this peril."

“I am not yet sure we shall die, Manuel. See, the brig in
standing straight for us. Now shout with me l—Ho, the brig.
Shout in Spanish l”

“ Olo la brigantina ! Misericordia, hombres I” yelled Manuel.
in accents of despair.

CHAPTER XIII. '

TEE RANBO'.

Tan brig was steering directly for th ace in the water.
where Rosal and Manuel, with three of the lugger's crew, were
combating the waves, and using every means to keep afloat. It
came so direct that there was more danger that they would be
run down and submerged by her, than not seen.

“ That shout is from the water,” said the captain of the brig;
“there are some of the schooner’s crew overboard. Every pris-
oner is of value. Stand by to heave ropes! No, lower a boat,
for I see at least half a dozen heads darkening the surface like so
many buoys! Luff a little, helmsmanl Luif’sharplyl That
is it I”

The brig, by this maneuvre, passed around to windward of
the live men—her headway was a little checked—a boat was
lowered, ropes thrown, and in two minutes they were all on
board of the Mexican.

“ Who are you, and what is your rank on board the chase Y"
demanded the commander of the brig, as they were led aft to
him ; and seeing that Rosal looked like the superior, he addressed
the inquiry to him.

“ I am not an officer in the revenue vessel, sir,” he answered;
“ but reside on the shores of the lake, and being abroad in a
boat, a shot from your eighteen ponnder stove the boat, and
thus has placed me and my companions at your mercy.”

“ Are you not an officer ?" demanded the Mexican, who was i
young man of slight figure, with a moustache, fine dark eyes,
and long, waving, coal-black locks. He had detected the nevi
buttons upon the vest of his prisoner.

“ I am, senor.”

“ So I guessed. A lieutenant?"

“ Si, senor. in the navy of the United States.”

“ Bueno! This is very fortunate for us. And you, senor?
he added, turning to Manuel. »

“ Un probre Americano—un piscador, senor,” answered lan- '

uel, dripping like a water god. ,
“ A Spaniard, I see. These are your follows, I doubt not}?
“Si, senor eecellenza." ‘

“ Bien! You are all my prisoners. Don Diego, see that these

four men are preperly taken care of, and secured with tilt; rest,

Senor, I give you the liberty of the quartebdeck, in consideration

. of your rank.”

" Gracia, senor.” responded Robert, who saw that there he .
no alternative but submission to his destiny. Manuel w“ lid
away, groaning at his fate, and talking bitm’ly‘obout his 
daughter's sorrow when she should know of his capture. ‘ ’

“You have had the best of the conflict, moor," remarks!

Robert to the Mexican (Juicer. “ I see you are heavity  -

andarenumerously manned. Didnotthecntterboard youl'V'

“You. But we drove them'hchwhen‘ ,bm  P .._.
[follow tlmutotheir deckgtheymtm,“   ‘

 

 

so 

 

g n

“ Their captain l” exclaimed Rosa], with surprise.

“ Yes. Yonder he stands by the Captain, with his arms folded

upon his breast. He feels rather gloomy at his ill-fortune. But
In is a brave fellow. He swooped down upon us from his bul-
warks like an eagle. He fought like a lion, and yielded only to
the last extremity. I respect a brave man, senor, even if an en-
emy. Would you like to speak with him ?”
l “ N0,” answered Rosa], with embarrasment. He was annoyed
at this discovery. It made his situation as a prisoner more irk-
some and more unendurable. He felt that he had really wrong-
ed Louis, and he did not lilac to be a fellow-prisoner with him-—
perhaps compelled to be together—share the same cabin.

The Mexican oflicer had not spoken too highly respecting
Louie’s conduct. He had, indeed, fought like a lion, and only
when he saw that he had been completely deceived in the force
.of his enemy, which overwhelmed him with their numbers, did
he give orders for his men to retreat again to the deck of the
Bingdove. He remained last to cover the retreat of his men;
but remained only to fall into the hands of his foes. Struck
with the courage of his prisoner, the Mexican captain, instead
of ordering him below, gave him the courtesy of the deck. This
courtesy Louis acknowledged with a suitable expression of
thanks.

“ You need not thank me for doing what your merits demand

of me, senor,” said the Mexican. " If I had fallen into your
powerl know you would have been equally courteous towards
’me. My countrymen have the reputation of acting towards
our prisoners with the savage vindictiveness of a savage tribe.
It is my intention to convince you that we are much injured in
this opinion.”

" I trust that I shall find that you are, sir," responded Louis.
" Will you tell me why you kept to the northward when I first
discovered you, and led me to suppose you a merchant vessel ‘2"

“It was to escape being seen by you. I took you for a U.S.
brig-of-war that has been the last three days in the chase of me,
and which I only lost sight of last night at dark, by running be
tween the Chandeleur Islands and the main. To avoid her, I
made for the lake, taking it for granted she would never search

for me here. But as soon as you fired your sixpounders, and I
was enabled to make you out clearly with my glass, I saw that
you were a cutter. I then began to lay close to the wind for the
purpose of bringing you to an engagement."

“1 took you for a Portuguese brig that is suspected of being
engaged in smuggling, or I should have calculated my chance
better than thus to have come within range of your heavy guns.
But when I once found that I was mistaken, I resolved to carry
youby boarding, as my only way of escaping capture myself. I
was not, however, sure that you were the Mexican privateer, un-
til I was near enough to discern the Mexican eagle and the ser-
pent painted on the glass of your battle lanterns.”

“ You have nothing to censure yourself for, senor, in having
fallen into my hands. You did all a brave man could do."

"I see that you keep firmly at my cutter. Do you hope to
capture her?’ '

"I shall do my best,” answered the young Mexican. “ We
have a small marine, and she will be of great service to us. She
sails though like the wind. I can only hope to get her by dis-
abling her. Yet I may run too close in with the land. Heave
the lead there forward.”

“ Six fathoms,” was the response of the leadsman.

" What water does your schooner draw, captain?" asked the
Mexican.

“ 'Pwelve feet."

" And I fourteen. I can't follow her if the water shoals
much.”

“ And be assured it does, rapidly, captain,” said Louis, anxious
for the safety of his vessel.

“ Quarter less four I " sung the leadsman from the fore-chains.

“ You are right, senor. Stand by to put the brig about. We
must give up the chasc."

“Three and a quarter fathom,

v

shouted the leadsman.

“Ready about! ’ cried the Mexican captain, in a quick, start-
ling tone. “ The schooner is leading me into a snare. Hold.
What cries are these 7”

“ It was at this, moment that the voice of Manuel reached his
ears. The brig was, as we have said, then lufied up totake them

 

 

__4 I , _,
on board, when filling away again for a few moments, she went
in st eye and turned her stern in the direction of the schooner.
One or two parting shots were fired at the cutter. and then the-
brig stretched away into the northeast across the lake towards
the Gulf.

Louis was standing by the capstan, looking back at hit
schooner, which was rapidly receding in the distance. Hi!
grief at his own capture was greatly diminished by seeing her
escape from his enemy's power. He had heard the shouts of
Manuel from the water, and recognised the voice; and could not
but wonder greatly how it was that he was placed in such a situ-
ation. He saw him and Robert taken on board; and not wishing
to address the former, he drew back to watch the result. He
saw him and his captor. He heard even his refusal to speak with
him.

“Poor Rosall He carries his revenge even to the remem-
brance of it in his own misery, when, if ever, a man needs friends
and sympathy. I am sorry for his captivity; but how is it he
was abroad on the lake? Poor Isabel! There is a deal of ill
news yet to reach thine ears! Iwill speak with this Mexican
touching our future disposal. It is possible I may get him to re.
lease Manuel, that I may send a. message to Isabel, assuring.her
of my safety, though a captive. Otherwise all will be uncertainty
when she hears that my vessel comes back without me."

With this resolution, Louis walked to where the captain stood.
As he approached him he had to pass Robert Rosa], to whom
he bowed slightly and kindly. Robert only frowned and turned
away his ahed.

“ Senor, captain,” said Louis, with that frank and manly air
which marked his bearing to friend and foe.

“ Well, senor captain Americano ‘2” responded the little Mexi-
can commander. .

“As the fortune of war has thrown me into your power, I
have seen enough of your civility to be convinced you will not
increase the rigor of captivity by useless severity.”

“Never, senor I" answered the Mexican, with emphasis, and
laying his hand upon his heart.

“ Then I have a favor to ask of you, senor.”

“Pray speak freely, captain."

“ If you will look in this direction you will see that the mar
light reveals the white walls of a villa about a league distant. In
that villa dwells my betrothed bride. I wish to send word to
her of my fate.”

“ I should be happy to oblige you, senor," answered the Mexi-
can; “ but my safety renders it expedient that I should get into
the Gulf as soon as possible. The firing will have been heard
by the U. S. brig, and she will be directed by it this way, al-
though by my ruse I led her to suppose I had run westward to
the Belize. If she should come off the mouth of the lake before
I get out, I shall have to fight her, which I care not to do, as she
is so much heavier than I am—being a sixteen~gun brig. If I
could serve you I Would gladly do so, for I respect a brave
man."

“ You can do so, senor. There is on board a Spanish fisher-
man, whom you took from the water. He dwells near the villa;
and, besides, he has a daughter very dear to him, who will
greatly mourn her father’s captivity. I am willing to pay $33
person‘s ransom—if you set it within my ability—if you will al-
low him to return to the lake shore free.”

“ I cannot do it, senor. I have no boat to spare.”

“As we coast along the entrance to the lake, you will find,
here andrthere, moored a few rods from the beach, a fisher‘s skiff.
You can run near one of these, and let him jump into her as you
pass.”

“ If I can do this, I give my consent. The price of his ran-
som I will set at the sum of three hundred dollars. How can
you pay it ‘2”

“ I have the sum in gold about my person," answered Louis—
who had not only this amount, but quite two thousand dollars
in eagles, concealed in a belt about his waist; and which be had
placed there-before he boarded the brig, lest, if he should lose
his schooner, this might fa] to the enemy.

“ Very well, senor. The Spaniard shall go with your message.
Don Pedro,” he added to a junior officer, “lead hither the old.
men We picked out of the water.”

In a few moments, Manuel was brought before the Mexican.

“ So, hombre, you are a fisherman I” said the captain.

“ 81, um"

  

  

21_

 

“This officer has begged of me your liberty. I have fixed
your ransom at three hundred dollars.”

" No as possible for me to pay it, senor escellenza.”

“Don Louis, here, pays it. He wishes to Send a message on
shore by you.”

“ Thanks, captain Louis. My poor child will bless you !" cried
the grateful Manuel.

" There is the gold, senor,” said Louis. counting out the money
upon the top of the companion-way.

“Grecian, senor. I receive this for my crew, not for myself.
We are‘approaching the land. As soon as I see a boat he shall
be left in it. Now deliver to him thy orders.”

With these words the Mexican walked aft to give directions to
the helmsman.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE MEXICAN AND HIS PRISONERS.

Loms took Manuel aside, Robert following their movements
with his eyes; for he had overheard and witnessed what passed,
and Well knew that it was his intention to send wordto Isabel
touching his fate.

“ Now, Manuel, that I have ransomed you, I hope you will do
me good service," said Louis.

“ I will attend to whatever you say, master Louis,” answered
the grateful old Spaniard.

“I wish you, as soon as you land, to hasten to Isabel, and in-
form her of what has occurred, and of my situation, and that of
her brother. Tell her that it is probable we shall be taken to
Vera Cruz, as prisoners of war, and there detained till we are ex-
changed or ransomed; for the Mexican privatesrsmen receive
ransom for all their captiVes."

" I will tell her, captain. How am I to be landed T"

" The brig will run nigh some one of the fishing skiffs that their
Owners moor off from their huts. You will jump into one, as we
bat, and make the best of your way to the villa.”

“ I will do it, senor. I wish I could help you to escape, air.”

“You can do nothing, Manuel. But I have another message
for you to deliver. I want you to board the cutter, and see how
tenant Gladson, and tell him that I am a prisoner, and Well, and
that I shall probably be taken into Vera Cruz. Therefore, any
to Gladsoa, that he must get prepared as soon as possible, and
sail out of the lake, and try and full in with the U. S. vessel, and
report my capture, and that the Mexican brig will steer. ‘5 I
overheard her captain say, forVera Cruz. This will inform him
in what direction to give chase. But tell Gladson not to think of
pursuing us with the cutter, or he may lose her as well as her
captain." .

“i will report all this accurately, master Louis," answered
Manuel. _

“ And here, take this ring, and from me, place it on Isabel's
finger.”

Ile removed it, and was putting it in Manuel's hand, when
Robert Rosal, who saw and-heard all distinctly—for ho was not
three paces off—strode up and struck the' hand Manuel held out
to receive the ring. The jewel flew into the air and fell glitter-
ing into the water. He merely said : l '

“ You know, sir, why I forbeur."

“What means this? caballcros! Senor, I wiil not allow in-
sults. Stand back," cried the Mexican, sternly, addressing

'Ro'oert. “ What meant that blow?"

“ I will tell you, senor," answered Manuel. “ These two
gentlemen Were once good friends. They are now foes. This
noble captain is betrothed to the sisterof the other. The sister
loves—the brother hates. I am to bear a message from the lover
to her, and with it, he placed in my hand a ring, to be. placed
upon her finger. Seeing this, the brother struck up my hand,
and tossed the ring into the sea. And, to make a long story
"brief, I will add to Mr. Louis, that what brought me out upon
the water tonight was a large reward'from‘master Robert if I would
launch my boat, and try to overtakcyou, sir. He said he wished
to cross blades with you, and punish you for thinking at Miss
Isabel as your wife. It was thi that 'got me in the way of the
W shot, and that ma my logger, and nearly my life. I an

 

sorry, now, master Louis, that I should have taken wages to pin
sue you; but I intended you no harm. He had no other inten-
tion, nor had I any purpose, save to put into my purse the gold
he ofl'ered me

“ The skill is close alongside," shouted the officer of the deck

“ Spring, Manuel," cried Louis. “ Forget nothing I have told
you."

“Not a word. Beware of Rosal,” he added, in a whisper to
him, as he cast himself over the side, and dropped into the skifi,
that the brig just grazed in passing.

“ Now, senor,” said the captain of iheMexican, “ if you will
tell me to put this person in irons for his insult to you, I will do
It. It was a base act—his tossing the ring into the water in that
fashion 1” ,

" No. Do not take any notice of it, captain."

“ (‘an I do this?" asked the polite little Mexican. " By San
Diego, I would fuin make up your quarrel ; for I mean you shall
be both my guests in the cabin, and it would be an illvmatched
company to have two so hostile at my board.”

“ Senor, that oflieer's father ~ slew my own pnfairly in a duel
This is the cause of my dislike to him. Seek not to remove it. Make
no effort to reconcile me to him. I can never look upon him but
with detestatiou. If I grasped his hand in amity, I should look
to see my father’s ghost stand menacing before me.”

“It is true, senor; though it was in a fair contest. He thinks
it his duty to avenge him on me.”

“ And he hates thee heartily. I will take care that he doe
not do thee a mischief on board."

“ Do not restrain his liberty, captain. I do not fear any secret
attack.” ‘*

“ Secret? Who accuses Robert Rosa] of attacking his enemy
in secret ?"’ haughtily demanded the young man, crossing the
deck to the spot where they stood. “ You need not fear ma.
Louis, I am an open foe, as thou knowest, and everywhere idly
foe. Blood only can wipe out the quarrel between us. Captain
Mejia, if you would see this difference sefiled, place good swords
in our hands, allow us six feet of the deck, and if Louis Duth
are meet my challenge, which I now give him, I will soon and
our feud.”

“ Nay, senor, I could not consent to this. Unless, senor
Basal, you pledge me your parole of honor that you will not seek
to pursue your quarrel with this officer, I shall feel it ,my duty to
place you in confinement."

“ I have no desire to assassinate him. I am not a murderer, as
his father was."“

The blood leaped to Louis's cheek, and he made a step forward.
as if to strike him down ; but the face of Isabel rose up before
his eyes, eloquently pleading for her brother, and he resti‘ainod
the impetuosity of his insulted spirit. Captain Mejia ordered
Rosal to be placed in a stateroom and confined to itswhile he
offered to Louis a share of his own cabin and table, as the brave
commander of the vessel which had engaged him.

“ It is host he should keep his state-room,” said Mejia, after he
was led away by one of the officers. “ You, senor, have liberty
to act on board as you please on your parole. I see that the wind
is falling somewhat. Ho! the look-out aloft."

“Aye, sir."

“Keep a sharp eye about you '2,"

“ Sail, ho l" instantly responded the man aloft, in a loud, start-
ling tone,

“ Where away ‘2” .

" To the southward, about 8. S. E."

“ It must be my gun-brig," said Mejia, coolly, placing his glass
to his eye. ,

The privateer was now quite out of the lake and stretching  ,
away towards theyopen waters of the gulf. _ 

“It is a large square-rigged vessel," he said. “It is, doubtless, 
the brig of war. Have the decks all cleared, and the call 
i0 quarters l" 

The order was receiwd with nlncrity by his ofiicers and crew ‘2
while the Mexican, fully aware of his danger, kept away as much» "
as he could to widen the distance between him and his adversary. ,
I‘his change of course brought the stranger. whjch ms  ‘ .
as the starboard bow, standing towards themon a  f
span the quarter. * ‘ q  ._ V ‘

 

, f.‘a'v an,“ a V .m 3,. j J l . ,. . .
f4; 1"“,- :- , . :9fivW‘f‘lr' —r~ "‘ f. “"7?

 

 

CHAPTER XV.
m ram an m GUN-an.

Tn: day now began to dawn, and with the increasing light the
lexican discovered that the stranger was a large brig-of war, as
he had anticipated. With his spy~glaas the Mexican Captain saw
that it was the flag of the stars and stripes; and thus all further
doubt as to the true character of the stranger was removed.

“ This will be a hard chase, senor,” he said to Louis, who had
come on deck on hearing the distant gun. " It is your country-
man l"

“ A sail on the larboard bow l" shouted a man from the foretop.

“ Hal What can this new vessel be i" cried Captain Mejia.

He went into the waist so as to get a clear view of her, and
with his naked eye discerned avessel nearly ahead of them about
six miles distant. '

Louie informed Mejia that he believed her to be the smuggling
schooner. '

She was soon overtaken and captured by the Mexican, being a
slow sailor. She proved to be the Lisbon smuggler.

The Mexican captain, knowing he could not retain the prize,
ofl‘ered to let her go. First demanding all the specie on board,
and a small'quantity of the best wine.

The Portuguese gave the necessary orders to the crew, going
into the cabin with them.

The Mexican followed him below, Louis remained on deck;
seeing the mate near him asked if he was not bound in to Lake
Borgne when he first saw the pirate. The mate looked sur.
prised; but when Louis pressed him closely, and showed so much
knowledge of his business, he confessed it; and, also, that Man-
uel was the agent to whom the freight was to have been deliv~
ered.

"All this I knew, and, it has been my wish—for I am a rev.
enue officer—to fall in with you," said Louis ; " but i am now a
prisoner, and can do nothing. You will be released as soon as
the Mexican gets from you what money you have on board ; and
as, no doubt, you will yet fulfil your intention of going up the

- lake, I wish you would inform Manuel where you saw me, and
that I have my parole, am well treated, and that Robert is also
well; tell him also that we are being chased by a U. S. brig-of.
war, which will not however be likely to overtake us, we sail so
much faster than she. Tell him to communicat? these facts to
the person to whom he formerly had an errand."

' “I will do it, sir,” answered the mate, very civilly; for he was
agreeably impressed by the frank, sailor-like manner of Louis.
He then gave him a full account of the system of smuggling
which had been pursued, and in which this vessel had been an
instrument, thinking, no doubt that now the revenue oflicer was
a prisoner, it could do no harm.

. Louis did not know, that the cutter was still up the lake, being
secretly in hopes that the brig might yet fall into its power.

The Portuguese captain, with many bitter groans, and huge
Oaths, saw the privateer's boat quit the side of his vessel with
four boxes of silver coin. and three bags of gold—in all, seven-
teen thousand dollars. This prize put the privateer’s crew into
the best of humor, and they willingly made sail again, leaving

.the brig to go her own course.

To have taken possession of her they knew would be only to
lose her again, to the U. S. brig astern, and to endanger their own
safety. ,

Captain Mejia at once divided the money among his men; and
than made them a short speech, saying that as the brig-otwar
was in chase of them their escape would depend on the skill with
which the vessel was managed, and he hoped every order would
', ,bs obeyed with alacrity; for if they were taken by the brig, a

1 prison w'onld be their fate. _

'2 As to fighting the gun-brig, we can't think of such a thing,

' gm’y lads,” said he, in conclusion of his address to them; “ she is

twice our force, and then there is no prizemoney to be got by it.

Our cola-as is to show her a clean pair of heels. But if she ov‘ea

mum. I shall not surrender withdut a fight; and in this case I

f'_  {ed that each one of‘you will do your duty to a man l'

"1783: addu- wssrsesived with acol\ssnstioa.and the brig ones

 

more got under a crowd of sail and stood eastward. The Pcrtu.
guess was still laying to where she had been left, engaged in re
pairing damages as well ascould be done. Having but one mast
she could only move with her head sails; and to enable her to lay
her course they commenced rigginga jury mast on which to hoist
the tri-sail.

“ That fellow will lay there, " said Captain Mejia, " until the
brigof—war comes up where he is, and then he will tell his story
and also made known to her captain just our force 1"

“ You would be astrong antagonist for the brig. Captain, ” said
Louis.

“ Yes; but Iam a privateer and not a vessel-of-war, and in
fighting with a gunbrig I should get more iron than gold. It is
my business to keep out of the way of such company. My pro»
fession is to board merchantmen and to capture rich prizes. I
should never hope to take the brig, and there would be no glory
in a fight with her. No, my only course is to run away 1”

And swiftly was she running from her enemy.

In about thirty minutes after the privatecr left the Portuguese
vessel, the gun-brig came up with her, and after laying to for
about three minutes under her quarter made sail again after the
Mexican.

" She has heard the story of the poor fat captain, and knows
just what we are. She will now be more anxious than ever to
overhaul us; and our anxiety to escape must be proportionately
increased. *

“ Pray, captain, how do you intend to dispose of me and Lieu-
tenant Rosal ‘I"

" If I reach Vera Cruz I shall deliver you up to General Bravo
who commands there. I shall speak a good word for you; but I
shall say nothing in favor of Don Robertl”

“I wish that you would, captain.”

The privateer now got an oiling so wide that she altered her
course and run more southwardly. Every hour the brig of war
lessened in the distance; and by noon her topsails were even
with the horizon. 'By night she was out of eight; and six days
afterwards the privateer came in sight of the blockading squad
ron, under Commodore Connor, off Vera Orus.

CHAPTER XVI.

some rm: cams“.
‘9

Tm: presence of the fleet off Vera Cruz, was an obstacle that
the genius of Captain Mejia was now called upon to overcome.
For this purpose he resolved to stand off until dark, and, under
cover of the night, run into the harbor, every fathom of which
he was perfectly familiar with.

Accordingly he soon was safely anchored under the walls of
San Juan de Ulloa. '

-"I have done my part," said Mejia, “ I must now deliver you
to the authorities, who are coming on board in the boat which
has just put ofl' from the castle stairs.”

“ Adios, Caballeros,” cried Mejia, as the barge pulled off from
the vessel: and Watching it he saw it reach the castlestairs, and
his late prisoners disembarked, and guarded by a file of soldiers,
disappeared in a gate near one of the bastions.

" New, cabelleros,” said the governor of the castle, before
whom the prisoners were conducted soon after their entrance bo-
neath its walls; “ now, if you will give me your parole never to
serve in this war against us, should you even be exchanged, you
are at liberty to have the freedom of the castle; otherwise, I
shall feel it my duty to place you in custody of the keeper of
the prison.”

“ I cannot accept my liberty on these conditions, senor,” an-
swcred Louis. '

"Nor will I I’ responded Robert.

“Bueno. Then you will be locked. Colonel Lamas, conduct
these gentlemen to their cells. Their refusal to accept parole

' leads me to believe that it is their intention to escape if fOHlblO;

see, therefore, that they are placed in secure confinement. I
shall make you, a: captain of the guard, responsible for their
safe custody. - -
’ The two young officers were then escorted from the hall between
two files of soldiers, in number a full share, armed to the teeth.
After passing along the whole length of the corridor, they
were undated through s massive gateway, into adult pit-op 

f

 

33.

 

which was faintly lighted by iron lamps plaCed at interals imniches.

It gradually descended, and at length was crossed at a sort of
central hall or nave by various passages radiating from this point.
One of these was closed by an iron door, which the guide unlocked
and unbarred. It led into a marrow avenue, between the damp
walla Here all the soldiers left them. As they advanced along
the passage, Louis heard distinctly the dashing of the surges
againt the foundation of the fortress. At the extremity of the
passage was a door elevated two steps from the pavement. This
was unbarred and thrown open. It gave access to a room about
ten feet square, lighted by a massively grated window, seven feet
above the floor. On one side of the wall was a broad wooden
bench, on which lay three pallets of moss. A narrower bench
fbr a seat was opposite to it, on the other side of the wall. A
stone pitcher without a handle, a bucket, and three pairs of
chains fastened to huge staples in the wall, constituted the only
remaining furniture of the dismal place.

“ Go in, cabelleros i” said the captain of the guard. “ This is
your prison."

“ This 1” cried Robert, indignantly. “We are not felons—at

I least I am no murderer, or murderer’s son, that I should be shut

in here! Give me better quarters than these. Besides, I will
not share the same cell with this man. Hell would be preferable
to such a doom 1"

“ Have you gold, senor?’ significantly asked the captain.

" Yes. Give me another cell and I will pay thee fifty pesos in
gold." I

“ Rain 1” answered the jailor ;r and after locking Louis into his
cell he opened the door of one adjoining and ushered Robert intoit,
though taking care care first to be paid the price stipulated.

CHAPTER XVII.
m cm: AND rm: rarsonas.

\

W: now return to the two heroines of our story, lsabel Rosa]
and Benita, whom we left Watching with the most painful suspense
the engagement between the cutter and the privateer.

At length they beheld the cutter separate from the privateer
and sail up the lake, pursued for a little while by tneir opponent.
which at length tasked and stood out towards the Gulf. But
they were ignorant of the character of the two vessels.

"The cutter is standing towards us, and doubtless will come to
an anchor near the shore, perhaps up opposite the inlet."

They continued to watch it with deep interest as it came on.
It passed the spot where they Were standing, and after sailing on
about a quarter of a mile, came to anchor, within three hundred
yords of the shore. ,

The boat neared to the land. The maidens strained their eyes
to discover the form both loved. The boat came so near that
they could distinguish the features, by the moonlight, of the
steersman. It was not the face of Louis.

The boat struck the beach, and Ben Bulwark sprung out. Isa-
bel at once recognized him.

“01:, sir—oh, Mr. Bulwark, who is hurt '2” cried lsabel.

" Where is Louis—your captain? Is he hurt ? You have sent
a man for a doctor. I Speak—who needs one i”

“ Four of our poor fellows who have been hit in this con-
founded bad affair off here.”

" But your Captain ?" cried Benita. .

“He fought like a hero, but it was no use. They captured
him.”

At this intelligence Isabel was nearly overcome with grief.
The wounded men were brought to the villa. A surgeon sent
tor. .

It was not long ere old Manuel arrived.

He soon came to land, and after embracing Benita, hurriedly
ukodior lsabel Rosa]. stuabouttogoto the house, when

 

they met her coming towards the did; for Benita had informed

her that her brother had embarked in the lugger with her fath.
evious night, and her amuety about him was an additions!
of grief to her.

“ Senora,” said old Manuel, as he came near, “ I bear a m.-
sage to you from Don Louis”

Briefly the old fisherman related his message.

After hearing all he had to say, it was determined by Gladssn
to sail as soon as possible for Vera Cruz. The resolve was
promptly acted on. Our two heroines sailed on board the Ring-
dove, and after speaking the steamer Princeton was ordered to
keep in the wake of the steamer.

It Was late in the afternoon when they left the flag-ship, where
they learned that the bold privateer had got into the harbor,
under cover of the night, and was then in sight, anchored under
the guns of. the castle.

Manuel and Benita offered to endeavor to effect the release of
Louis and Robert.

They were landed on the beach, and, as they both spoke Spun-
isb, would have little risk in passing for Mexicans.

Benita disguised herself as a youth.
t i i . 1' C fi

The prisoners were placed in adjoining cells. Louis soon dis-
covered that the action of the sea had loosened the foundation- .
When the tide rose some water trickled into the cell. On this
hing-he acted. lie scraped away the mortar with some shells
which he found in his dungeon. Soon he got out a small stone,
then a larger one , anon, one big enough to let him pass.

He called to Robert.

Robert was not proof against such magnanimity. With
Louie’s assistance he was speedily liberated, and they heartily
shook hands.

They waded to a boat, and soon drifted to shore.

They had not proceeded far on the beach, ere they met Manuel
and Benita, disguised as Mexicans, coming in quest of them.

Manuel, then, as he led them rapidly along, proceeded toexplaiu
the events up to this moment, and his plans for aiding their es-
cape from prison; while from them he heard the particulars of
their reconciliation and their flight from the castle. '

A signal was made,a boat from the Ringdovecame to the
shore, and the whole party were quickly transferred to the
cutter’s deck. a

Who can describe the joy of Isabel on beholding her lover
ascend the 'cntter's side. Benita, finding that Louis was wholly
lost in the love of Isabel, listened to the deep passion of Robert
Rosal; and at length made him happy by the confession of a
reciprocal love; though such love as Louis had awakened in her
bosom she could not feel, he had not the power to kindle; for
that love was lighted by the torch of nature, and even when,
some weeks afterwards, Louis had become bridegroom of Isabel,
and she the bride of Robert, it was not extinguished, nay, but
burned with holier, purer flame, yet without passion or madness
-—for Louis was her brother. ,

This was the secret of her love. She mistook the natural
affection of a sister for the deeper, wilder, love of the soul.

Manuel unfolded his secret. He saw on board that Benita
loved Louis, and was wasting for love of him. He, therefore,
the evening before they re entered Lake Borgne, told them, as
they were all assembled together, how he had saved the little
girl,who had been carried away by the current and supposed tolls ,
drowned; and loving the child, and being alone and solitary, he
had kept the secret. and brought it up as his own.

“ Yet you shall ever be my father—JBenita will ever be thy
child,” were her fervent words in his glad ear, as she threw hers
self. in tears of wonder and joy upon his shoulder; Shag
then cast herself on Louis’ bosom, from which, so overflowing
with joy was the young heart, she was removed by Robert aimed
insensible; but she was soon able to realise, with deep gratitude
And sweet peace, the happiness that had been vouch-sled to lac.

THE END-

 

 
     

Complete.

Each Number

 

 

  
 

 

 
   
  
    
 
 
  
     
   
   
  
  
  
 
 
  
   
  
  
   
     
  
 
  
  
  
   
  
  
  
 
  
   
 
   
  
 
   

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Ten Cents a

    

 

 

 

984 Buffalo Bill's Life Rome; or, The Doomed

22 Buffalo Bill's Best flower; or. Montebello the

 

 

m.‘-. -._.

lllllflllj.

The Lasso King’s League; or, The Tigers of

A

T . l8 . .
Bhfli'eeI 11.311001. P. Ingraham. '820 holil hing. lly Col. Prentiss Ingmham. Texas. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham.
11 a0 '3 Relutless Tran. By Colonel White Beaver's Still Hunt; or, The Miner 349 Bu 4 '
Prentiss lng-raham. ' Mal'audcr‘s Death-Track. By Buffalo Bill. Chic}: Illyégz'ugge §3a§d égl.Kliggln%‘;gl§?n.Bm '
The Dread Shot Four; or. Mr p ’8‘“ “WM” "W9 “M Trail: on The Road-Rider on initial mm; mm nza- or Tie Kni hts of
Plains. lly Cl-l. w. F. Cody.) an“ or "16312 ilenfmde’s Run Down. By Col. P- Ingraham. the Silver Circle. any 'cm.‘ 1’. ‘Ingrahim.
Bumm Buys Irwin . lb inf all; Bill's Death—Knoll; or. The iii-d llaml r ' - -
Ewen Sublime S “By'r’ggfalile Rulers of the Rockies. By Col. P. Ingmham. 639 35931;; I§3§5.3“B;‘{fmebe“°- the Magma
am. 07 “'ilii Bill. the Willi \Vest Duelist; or, The Girl 029 Bufial “111' D 1 l -
gmaloslilll’s Blue Belt Brigade; or Sun-i" Maw“ “’5 Moonlight Mine- “Y Buffalo “‘11- chk. ‘lx'ius u? thgrcgsvbgy'Bgrlggrfggg?
ower an) of Shasta lzy col, 1»_ Inshumm. 807 “'ild Bill. the VVllll \V’ost Duelist; or, The Girl 599 Th D 1 Q} N . N .
gun'an Bill's Volunteer VigilanteS' or The] . g’lfingfinmlphi “‘9 “wa Chlef- ‘By But- illainsfnlly'lyiltrraltinliilfr' J) Pan“ or the
ysterious Man. in Blue. By Col. 1’. in mu? 1 ' - ’- ' ‘ ' ' '
ham, 5 794 Buffalo Bill's “'lnning Hand: or, The Masked 5” ggg;lghgp¥esss   vfiuhtffiits' the
Buffalo Bill at Bay; or. The Gold Seeker's $22,119,? the comrade canyon By COL P' 414 Red Renard the Indian Dctectlve' or. The
Doom. By Col. P. In rahan. ,. ° ' ‘. ‘ . , ' '
Buffalo m,” Block G 8 . ‘ lisr Buffalo Bill's Dead Shot:or,’1‘heSkeleton Scout Gold Buzzard” “t “10”” 1" B“,“‘“° 3""
Miners 0! the Overlarfdmebfir'Coxlhpl>M(l‘nrg-edI or “W culmudo' By COL prenuss lngraham' 401 gfdortl‘zi—Ilrmgd gaghorhifl‘led Retnbmion In
. . . 3,. , e m. y u ao .
ham . {781 Buffalo Bill 9 Brand; or, The Brimstone .
Buffalo Bu” Black P rd. T Brotherhood. Ily Cu). Prentiss Ingraham. 397 pen“vimrg Erythers; Or' “'h‘te Beaver"
Boomers of the Big Horn“  05E)! 1:191 00“] 777 Buffalo Bill's Spy-Shadower: or, The Masked {a ' By u 3'0 Bm'
h . y . . ngra- Men at Grand Canyon By COL p. Ingmhmm 394 Xhitle Beaver, the Exile of the Platte: or,
Buffalo Bill's Blufl' or Dusky Dick the 773 Hunfilo Billl‘simm; m" coay to the Rescue. Bm' ranged Mans Red Tran- ny Bum‘lo
Sport BY COL 1’. In raham. ' y eon ews' v , - -
B a 1 B .  ,_ , . , 769 Buffalo Bill's Sweepstake; or. The Wipe-out 362 ENS“? B1“ 5 cr‘p' 0'" 9am bound to cute"
u no ills Quandar: or \elvet Bill 3 i y 0. Irentiss lngraham.
V B C I , v i at Last (,hance. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. .
ow. y o. lrentisa Ingraham. _ , I 329 Buffalo Bills Pledge: or, The League of
Buffalo Bill and the Surgeon Scout: or Go- ‘6‘)  IE‘r‘éfitlEé’zlgérghnfnk Ribbon sam. Threo' By COL P' Ingraham'
wan-go, the Redskin Rider. 13' C01. ’1 ~ ' ’ ‘ 319 Will Bill. th '
‘rflham‘ 3 I In 761 guiialo Ifili'quagcot; or. The Death Valley Bufftalo BHL e vvmrlwmd Of the want By
Buffalo Bill's League; or, Red Butterny_ By ,, c m 1‘9' '1" 1y C0" Prentiss Ingmham‘ 304 Texas Jack. the Prairie Rattler; or, The
Col. prenuss Ingmham‘ 707 Buffalo Bill 9 Double; or, The Desperado De- Queen of me “'nd Riders. By Buffalo Bm
Buffalo Burs Tangled Tm“; or Gentleman tectlve. By Col. Ixrientiss Ingrallarn. 43 The Pilgrim Sharp; or. The Soldiers Swpéb
Jack. the Man of Many Masks_' By COL 1{750 Buffalo Rlll'a Big Four; or, Custer 5 Shadow. heart. My Buffalo Bill, Government scbug
Ingmham. By Col. Prentiss lngraham. and Guide.
Buffalo Bill's Rough Riders; or. Texas Jack’s 743 Bufff‘l" mn’s Flush, Hall“? “’3 Texas J‘wk'S 189 Wild Bill's G0” Tm”: 0?. The Desperate
Sharp-ShOilters. 13y Col. Prentiss Ingraham. Brmufi' By COL lremlss “graham” Dozen' 15” COL 1" Ingraham-
Buffalo “Hrs Sacra Any; or, Th9 Texan.s 739 Buffalo lfill'ii Blind; or. :l‘llc hlaslrml Driver1 175 Wild Bill‘s Trump Card: or, The Indian
Double. By (30L Prentiss Ingrahum. gaffmllhs LJUU'UII. “y U11. Irentlss [HEM-l Heiress. By Col. Prentiss lngrallam.
, . _. , _. . - 168 Wild Bill, th P‘st l .l Si - a
Buffalo l’llls‘ Life stake, or, The Pledged 735 nut-mm mm and His Merry Men: or, The! Dow: Double? 1: o‘)De;li‘ ‘lOt.  Dagber
Three By L01 I In mth . 13), Lil. hintiss Inhraham.
" ‘ - g - I . Rubin Howl Rivals. By ('01. Prentiss lngra-f qu nufiqh Ir” CH f f . .
ghed'llhree Bills; Buffalo Bill, wild Bill and ham. ' "‘ D025“ 13‘) 'Dl.‘ iwrgnks‘fif‘is'nor' The Doom“
Fm - ;OK Bill; or. The Iravo in Broadcloth. 731 Btu-hm Rm.” 7598 y . l - ' . i i 'e .
, . n , gles. or. Silk Lasso Sam.l - . .
Bym‘dm- 1" 'Ingmham: By Col. Prentiss Ingrlihanl. in?  taillighotifull‘ng; tlgm‘lgl'usor' 1;”fil‘9g
85:319.;  zillilésklllgusi‘uresl: 011‘. The Card 727 llui‘flilo lili’s lolly Guard; or_ The Still llunt D. lul‘r. ’ fl . y (“or
 . 4(.. i .. w ‘o. ‘. llgl‘fllis'm. of the Hills. By Cu]. Prentiss Ingraham. i go Bume 11-“ th B i i v
. . l v . u- < . ~ Jun king' or The
BUffaJfi “I” S Road Agent RO‘md-I P; 0r. The/722 Buffalo ilill on the \\':ir l’alh‘ or f‘ilk Lasso Ama on (If t 0' m (q’ ' u '
giysltreéiglrllixrhiasked Man in Black. By Col. Sam, the Will-o'~the-\Visp. lly 'Col. P. In-‘! lull-ixz ) he “65:. 1’) Major Dangerfield
. _ graham. 83 G 11 l’. ' '
Buffalo Ilill‘s l)onth~(‘.harm: or, The Man 716 Buffalo 'lill's Smut Sllmlnwcrs: or, Wmf‘r-l (')(\)'c(‘l'liullill]lelllspgrllifal): BT11;e Knights Of the
\Vitll the Sour. ily Col. Prentiss lngrahnm. 211d lid of Devil's Acre. By 001. P- Ingraham-l :32 . .
Buffalo Bill's Royal Flush; or, The Pony Ri-’710 “Umllil Bill “flfllt‘d: 01‘. The Desert“? Deb“; and Love in
den; Lentil-Run. lly (‘01. l’n-mlss Ingm-l lllrrwlo's helium“. 113' Col. 1’. Ingruhum. l Bill.
ham‘ [697 Buffalo l'lill‘s Buckskin Brotherhood; my! , ,
Buffalo Bill's Double Dilemma: or, The Great“ Olwninl: L71) :1 Lost Trail. “3' Col. 1’. ln- I‘m“
Scout‘s Big Three. 123' Col. l'. Illg’lilllulll. l-‘Jl‘flhmn- {985 Thu Lung—Haired l‘ards;

Buffalo llill's Reds-kin Ruse; or. Texas Jack's' 691
By (‘01. l’l'i'ntlSB lilgrlillanl. '

The Ranch King Dead-Shot; or, Texns Jack's"

Death Shot.
Proxy. 5y Buffalo Hill.
Band's Hint-out.

Scout to the Rescue.

Buffalo Bill's Boys in Blue; or, The [ll'llllSt0n01667
35' Vol. l’. lllgl'nllnm.

Buffalo Bill's Sharp-Shooters; or, The Surgeon
By Col. 1’. lngrallaln.

l O

‘ Buffalo Bill's l'llind Trail; or, The Daughturl
of tho lii'gimcnt. lly Col. Prentiss Ingraham.I
Buffalo Bill's Secret SQFViCu Trail. By Major
Dangerfield L'urr. '
Buffalo llill’s Swoop;
Mines. By Col. l’rnntiss Ingraham. l
The (‘owhoy Clan; or, The Tigress of TexasHQSS
By Colonel Prentiss Ingrallam.

the i'lliins

‘JXG
682 iloyel'

l l-
or. the King of them“ Sewn

658
By Albert

lrlm \Vl'ist,

a. Frontier Fort.

1551135 To COME.
The Tartars of

Ol‘.

. By Joseph 1'). Badger, Jr.

\V.

the Swm'dmnster.
Monster):

811.

Death Trailer, the Chief of Scouts: er, Life
By Buiialo

By Col. Thos.
Shallracll. the Sport Detertive: or, The Secret
lly John \V. Osbon.

Rocky Mountain Roi), the California Outlaw.
Alk

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

   

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