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ENTERED u SECOND CLASS un'nm AT "rm: NEW YORK. N. Y.. l’us’r owvxcx.

Copyrighted. 139:. DY BEADLE AND Alums.

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June 30. 1397.

 

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MOMENT THEY STOOI) THUS THEN THE WOMAN SAID FIERCELY: “LAUNCELOT GRENVILLE,

Freelance, the Buccaneer;

0r,The Waif of the Wave. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.

I CURSE YOU !"

 

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Freelance,
THE BUCCANEER ;

R,
THE WAIP OF THE WAVE.
A 1“th qumance of the Early Years of the

 

i. Incye.nfh Century.

 . BY COL. PRENTISS INGRAIIA M,

,2 armor; or “THE CRETAN ROVER," “THE n.
r. RATE PRINCE,” “ rnn DARE DEVIL,” arc.
 CHAPTER I.

A GRAVE BETW'EEN THEM.

V LIK'Ea flood of silver light the moon's rays
,‘ streamed down from a cloudless sky, and
bathed land and sea in its halo of dreamy luster.

The winds had died away, and the waves
broke with muflled sound upon the
while in the background the dark ine of forest
echoed to the shrill notes of songsters—the
mock—birds of the South trilling forth their
melody, as though in joyful admiration of the
calm beauty of the scene.

Along the curving shores of the Gulf, here
and there learn from the magnolia. forests, the
snowy w ls of a plantation villa, surrounded
upon either side with spreading acres, tilled by
the dark hands of the slave, whose white cot-
to es are visible in the distance.

n front of these homesteads, the abodes of
Wealthy and aristocratic Southerners, lying at
anchor 11 on the waters of the Gulf, are visible
yachtso various sizes and rig, but with sails

urled for the night, and no one visible u 11
their decks, for the world seems to have s
i' - sleep under the calm influence of the hour.

‘ ‘ A ong the shore, and in front of the villas,
winds a broad carriage drive, and in the dis-
tance appears a horseman slowly riding along,
. the bee s of his steed f ' g lightly upon the
 dusty road.
.iz- At len th he halts in front of a massive gate-
‘;, wa lea mg! into the handsome grounds of a
,,. vi! a situate back from the road.

;, , Peering through the foliage he beholds a light
‘1 In one of the windows, and from his lips break
,4,» thew ds:

 “ It the signal! she will be there.”

Quietl he enters the fate, closing it without

a sound ehind him, an then leaving the drive
i that up roaches the house, he skirts the fence,
and ri es toward a distant clump of trees,
throu h which patches of white glimmer in the
moo ght. ,
., Nearer and nearer he approaches the clump
' ' * of trees, using his spurs to force his horse on,
- , for the animal seems to dread some danger
'5 lurking in the dark covert, or, with the peculiar
instinct of dumb brutes, dreading to approach
the spot where the dead lay at rest.

Presently through the foliage a white fence
was visible, surrounding the marble monuments
erected over those who had sunk to sleep for-
ever; but, apparently with no superstitious
feeling regardin a cemetery, the horseman
urged his horse orward, and springing to the
ground threw the bridle-rein over a post.

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

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

“ Lucille, my darling, you are a brave little

1 to meet me here,” and he drew the slender

orm toward him, and, bending over, imprinted

a kiss upon the upturned face.

“ It is not a cheerful place, Launcelot, for a.

v lovars' tr st, yet I do not fear my dead ances-
tors, for have never harmed them; but then I
had an idea that our other rendezvous was

known, and hence wrote you to come here.”

“ And I would have come anywhere to meet
you, Lucille; but has anything arisen of late to

your suspicions?”

“Yes; my father seems to watch me, and

{heaterday forbade me to go, after ni htfall to

earbor on the cliff; bu tell me, uncelot,
when will our meetin be no longer secret?”

“ To—morrow Luc e, I intend to seek your

father and tell him of my love for you: he, as I

before told you, knows who I an), though you
do not, other than what I have told you regard-

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lug myself.
‘ And I have kept my prom? and never
made one ingfln .regarding r. Launcelot
Vertuer, the me young gentleman who
saved my‘llfe, and then stole my heart," said
the maiden playfully.
“ You will find, Lucille, that I have deceived
y ' onethingonl , butIdid so with nodis-
onorable motives, led you.
9‘ Circumstances over w ich you and I had no
control caused me to beg you to keep our meet-
‘ fuss-s secret for the present, and a fear of losing
he. made me err in this; but to-mo'r-
know all, for, having been North

7 . ,

   
  
  
    
  

   

  

 
   

  
 

 
 
 
 

 

bbly beach, I

 

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

“I hate oesip, Launcelot, and frequently
have to line up old Mammy Chloe, who, like
many other old negrocs, likes to chat about the
affairs, of others; but to—inorrow you will see

a a?’

“Yes; and, Lucille, you will still love me,
come what may!"

“Never can love any one else, Luuncelot;
but you are sad; do ou dread trouble?" and
Lucille laid her han gently upon the man’s
shoulder, while the moonlight, streaming down
upon them, made a picture worthy the artist's
brush.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“ rop that knife, Colonel Darrington, or I
will kill you i” ‘

“For Heaven’s sake do not fire
it is my father!” and the trembl
sprung between the two men.

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

“ For 've me, Lucille: for the moment I for-
got tha he was your father, and only looked
upon him as the lifetime foe of my race.”

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

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

“Oh, Lanncelot, are you a Grenville?” cried
Lucille, half shrinking away.

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

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

“I do, father, with all my heart and soul.”
“God bless you, Lucille; and, sir, I love your

dau liter—hold, and hear me—I love her with
the ionor of a true man, and I would ask you
and her to let the dead past bury its. dead, and
the names of Darrington and Gremnlle become
united.”

“ Never, sir. never!”

“ Stay, Colonel Darrin n, and remember
that I am the one that is offering the right
hand of fellowship to the man who killed my
father.” ,

The voice of Launcelot Grenvflle was deeg
and stern, but his manner was earnest, an
there was no tremor in the hand he held forth
to Ferd Darrington.

“By heaven, sir you will dare me to strike
on even here. Never will I consent that your
lood and mine shall mingle in the veins of a

human being. .Only in hatred and the bitter
struggle for life and death shall your blood
ming e with mine.”

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

“And I hurl back that proffered hand with
hatred and contempt.”

“ Father, this gentleman saved my life, for
be it was who saved me the day I was kidnap-
ped by the coast pirates; be it was who attac -
ed them single-handed, killed two of their num-
ber and rescued 1118.” . A,
“Great God! in this true, Lucille!” and the

Launcelot ;
ing maiden

I

 

 

  

m

strong man staggered back as though din,
with overwhelming emotion.

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

“And, Colonel Burlington, fearing that
Lucille would turn from me in horror, knowin
me as Lance Grenville, I gave her part of mg
name, that of Launcelot Vertner, and it WEI
my intention to—morrow to seek you and ask
that the past might be forgotten.”

“ And again I say—never I”

“Father, I love him, and he loves me; he has
as much, if not more, as I remember the history
of the fearful vendetta between our families, to
I'OI‘EIVB than you and I, so listen to our appeall
fat er, and let the past be buried forever.

. The maiden’s voice was plaintive and appeal-
ing, and approaching her father she rested a
hand upon either shoulder, and looked beseeclla
in 1y into his white, stern face.

ut the devil of his nature had complete as-
cendency, and in hoarse, cuttin tones, he said:

“ I swear it! Your life, or mine, Lance Gren-
ville! ‘ '

“Come, Lucille.”

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

“Oh, Launcelot! Launcelotl This is the end
of my happy dream of love! Farewell! forever,
forever!”

.Drawing her quickl toward him be pressed 3
kiss upon her cold ips, and turning away
sprung into his saddle, and dashed swiftly from
t _e scene, urging his splendid horse, by a
mighty leap, over the picket fence that sur-
rounded the handsome grounds of the Derring-
ton Villa, and flying down the road at a mad
pace that roved how his noble heart was torn
with grie and despair.

CHAPTER II.
THE DUEL-VENDETTA.

COLONEL FERD DARRINGTON, a stern, haugh-
ty man of forty, and the last male survivor of
his race sat on the broad piazza of his elegant
home, 1: e mornin after t e scene at the .bury-
ingI-Jground of his amily.

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

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

Instantly he was upon his feet, his face livid,
when from the vehicle sprung a youn man
cladinthe attire of an officer in the nited
States Navy.

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

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

“ olonel arrington I be 'eve?”

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

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

ook upon as a entleman, and will hold no com.
munication wit .”

“ You can take it as you choose, Lieutenant
Grenville and, after my meeting with your
brother, am perfectly willing to hold in self
answerable to you, ” was the quiet reply of erd
Darrington.

“It is my desire, sir, that your meeting with
me  prior to that with my brother, and, as I
dechne to act with the second on have named,
we can arrange the time and p for ourselves
personally.” ‘

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

l“ You guess aright, sir. Knowing the imme-
diate cause of naml between you and my
brother, I fear t at he will not attempt your
life, and that you, in your merciless na ,
shouldhspare 13m, I have no idea, so fI desire to

ace e mee ing on a more equal ootin b
is see-rim.  1. .. 8’ ’

' w mgyo 'geyou, 'en nant a
I have met your‘brother, but peremptorllyfd:
cline doingnw before, and as you object to M1:
Abercrom 'e, and I wish to place no obstacle
in the way of my hostile meetin with Mr.
Lance Gr'ivdle, I will refer you to

as my second.” 1
Arthur Grenville bowed, and, with a. look of

 

disappointment upon his face, entered his (now

for the footinun ton
ate, a slender orm sudden]  '

ring: and drove away.
the vehicle drew u

open the

to the dow, andArthuern e _
pnekg‘fi the most beautiful faces he had 0
oo . ~ ~ ' ‘
It was new whiten: eyes were
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Freelance, the Buccaneer.

 

 

weeping. and the traces of deep sorrow rested
upon every feature, and still the face was ex-
quisitely lovely.

“ Ah. sir. beg Launcelot Grenville not to kill
iiiv father!”

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

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

" God bless you,” and stepping back Lucille
allowed the carriage to go on, while she re-
traced her way to the mansion, keeping a hedge
between horse f and the eye of her father, who
still paced the piazza.

Havinir objected to the young man named as
Colonel Larrington’s first second, on account of
his wild and dissolute character, Arthur Gren-
ville could find no fault with Paul Van Loo, a
wealth young planter, and a friend of both
himselfY and brother, and he accordingly sought
him out and a. meeting was arranged for sunrise
the following morning, at a lonely grove upon
a mint that jutted out into the Gulf. _

efore the sun arose on the followmg day,
the. Grenville carriage, with its negro coach‘man
and footmaii in livery, rolled along rapidly to
the field, where, ten years before, the father of

Lance and Arthur had fallen by the hand of
Ferd Darrington, and where, for three enera—
tions the Darringtons and Greiivilles ha faced
each other in the deadly vendetta and always
with fatality to one name or the ot er.

It was abitter feud, that had begun half a
century before when a Grenville had been the
successful riva of a Dairington for the hand of
9. beats? and heiress, and had eventually ended
in blo shed, the mantle of hate descending like
an heirloom from father to son, until at last
two of the name had met and loved each
other.

So impatient was Ferd Darn’n ton to meet
the man who had dared to love is daughter,
that the brothers found him and his second
alreadv upon the field, they having come there
upon orseback, accompanied by a negro ser—
vant who bore the deadly weapons to be used in
the affray.

Bowing coldly to each other as they met, the
two seconds then walked one side, while Colonel
Darrington impatiently paced to and fro, an
evil glitter in his eye, and Lance Grenville
leaned against a. tree, his arms folded, his face
pale, but emotionless, and his eyes gazing afar
03 upon the gulf, as though striving to look in-
to the great beyond and behold the fate in store
for him.

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

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

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

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

“ I thank you, Van Loo, for your good inten-
tions, but nothing that Mr. GrenVille has ever
done, or could do, will mitigate in the slightest
degree, my hatred for himself and name, and
you will oblige me by immediately making
arran ements for the duel. ” ,

Pan Van Loo seemed sur rised, and draWing
a sword from its soubbar tested its temper,
While Arthur Grenville walked toward his
brother who had not seemed to hear. the effort
made at a reconciliation between himself and
his enemy. ,

A few moments more, and throwin aSIde
their coats the two men stood facing eac other,
swords in hand, for, as the challenged party
Lance Grenville had chosen those weapons an
his motive for doing so was soon evident, for, a.
superb master in fence, he had determined to
disarm his antagonist and give him his life.

_A few passestand the blade of Colonel Dar-
rington was tWISted from his hand; but, with-
out following up his advan , Lance Gren-
villle 1lowered the pomt of his weapon, and said,
0 m :

“ Fgr the sake of Lucille, sir, I will give you
your life. ”

“My life I will not accept at your hands, sir,
and as you have proven my master with the
sword, the pistol Will place .us upon a more
equal footing,” and Ferd Darrmgton was white
With rage, and seeing that he was determined,
Paul Van Loo had no alternative but to take
1mm their velvet case the long) dueling istols

rinci a] had insisted upon ringing orig.
ith a ow, Lance Grenville signified his ac-
ceptan

cc of the weapons and a second meeting,

1

 

and. soon the two splendid-looking men again l
faced each other at ten paces apart. ‘
“Here, Lance, and for God's sake, do not let
that man kill you,” and Arthur Grenville placed
the loaded pistol in his brother’s hand. 1

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

“ It soon came, given by Paul Van Loo:

“ Gentlemen, are you ready!”

Both men bowed.

“ Fire! One!——" .

\Vitli the word one, the pistol of Ferd Dar.
rington exploded, and a dull thud we; heard ,
while Lance Grenville started slightly, and ‘
moved one step backward; but, instantly, he re-
covered himself, and suddenly raising his pistol :
fired above his head at a red-bird—in hue a. fit 3
songster for that scene~tliat sat singing in a i
tree above the heads of the two men.

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

 

shi .

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

“Colonel, ou saw his shot? He has twice
saved your li e, and I beg now that this affair
end here.”

The white lips of Ferd Darrington parted, and
the words were hissed out:

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

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

“My brother has twice risked his life, and
twice spared that of Colonel Darrington. I will
not consent to another fire,” said Lieutenant
Grenville, hotly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Yes he is dead. But Grenville, ou acted
most nobly; are you not hurt?” and aul Van
Loo arose from the side of the dead men and
approached Lance Grenville.

‘At the first fire his bullet struck berthsee!
This turned its course from my heart, and it

ave me a mere flesh wound,” and he took from
is breast-pocket a miniature set in a heavy
gold case.

But the glass was shivered to atoms, the gold
indented, and the face that had been ‘nted
thereon was deeply marred by the bullet, and
yet both Paul Van Loo and Arthur Grenville
saw that it was the miniature likeness of Lucille
Darrin ton that had saved the life of Lance
Gran 'lel .

“Take the carria e, Paul, to bear his body
home in, and we wil return on your horses, ’
said Lance Grenville, sadl , and mounting _the
very animal ridden there y Colonel Derring-
ton, the unhappy man rode away, followed by
his brother, who felt deeply for him in his sor-
I‘0W,.yet rejoiced secretly that the affair had
terminated as it had.

In the meantime Paul Van Loo, aided by the
servants, had placed the body in the carria e,
which at once rolled rapidly away toward 1: e
Darrington villa, where the lon 'ng, staring
eyes of. Lucille beheld its approac , and with &
912V 0‘5 JOY Sh? sprun to her feet, for she recog-
ized the vehicle, an believed that those who
had gone forth with deadly intent had returned
as friends.

Eagerly she watched the carriage, saw it halt
before the broad stairs, the door 0 n, and then,
as her eyes fell on the dark, de face of her
father, she uttered a shriek of anguish and fell
heaVilyoupon the floor, where she lay like one
whose life-cords had snapped in twain.

CHAPTER III.
A WOMAN‘S cousin.

TOWARD the close of day, several ears after
the death of Colonel Damn on by t 9 hand of
Launcelot Grenville, a rakis docking schooner
was standing in from the Gulf, and heading for
a small cove, sheltered by a heavily-wooded

int of land of what is now the coast of the

tats of Mississippi.

That the schooner WE an armed craft was
evident at a glance at her build and rig, for ves-
sels of her lon , narrow hull, and angle-stick

masts that re]: far aft with an almost piratical

 

 

air, were not found in the merchant service.

3

T—— f.~vw.~ “q_. ,*l

 

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

Upon the quarter-deck were several officers.
who, like the men, had a foreign air, and " 9"”
dark faces, medium-sized stat“! *5 Pnd mill-EM
eyes denoted that than“ ere of Mexmaii origin.

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

One person upon the quarter—deck stood near
the helmsnian, directin him how to steer and
that this man comman ed the destinies of the
schooner was evident at‘a glance.

Possessing a tall, commanding form attired
in a costly uniform, and with astrikingly hand-
some face, iii which a settled sadness was blend~
ed with sternness, he was a man both to fear
And admire, and always to respect.

Searchineg his eyes ran along the shores, and
the wind being favorable, he gave an order to
thehelmsman to head toward a. certain point,
where the white walls of a villa gleained through
a dense mass of foliage. '

As the schooner neared the shore the sun
went down behind the western horizon, and
half a score of small pleasure yachts that were
sailing upon the wateis, filled with gay parties,
headed for their 1- . tive anchorages, and
darkness settled upon the sea just as the armed
vessel swept up into the wind and dropped an~
chor within a quarter of a mile from the land.

Instantl the sails were lowered and furled,
and the sc ooner rode uietly upon the waves,
as silent as though the t rec-score men upon her
decks had one to rest.

Thus an our passed away, and then a red-
dish glare was visible on the eastem horizon,
and into the clear skies sailed the moon, con-
voyed by fleets of stars upon her way.

As the silver beamso light mar ed a path
across the ripping waters, a boat was lowered
over the schooner’s side, and into it sprun a
sin 19 personage, who seized the oars and pufied
wit a strong, nick stroke toward the shore.

As the moon ight fell upon his face it dis‘
played the officer who had guided the schooner
to her anchora e.

Landing un er the shelter of the cliff be
dragged the boat half out of the water, b a
slig t effort of his great strength, and quickly
ascended to the hill above.

Here he paused, and a shudder ran through
his frame, as he stood with folded arms gazing
dpifi‘p upon an open, grass-covered spot in front
0 mi.

“Here am I again upon the scene that has

roven so fatal to my name,” he muttered, in a
ow, deep voice.

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

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

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

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

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

Wl ?

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

He turned abru tly and glance in the other
direction from t e villa in which the lights
were visible and there his eyes rested upon an-
other house alf a mile distant-who place toward
which the schooner had headed when a league
out from the land.

With a hasty step he strode away from the
spot that seemed to recall such imbittored mem-
ories, and crossing the highway approached a
massive gateway that seemed crumbling rapid-
ly to decay by total neglect.

Springing over the fence he stood hesitatirg
in the grounds, which were overgrown with
rank weeds and underbrush, while back a few
hundred paces arose dark and gloom the walls
ofa large mansion, now almost hid en Ly the
dense growth of trees surrounding it.

“There she lived, and—perha died: but
whether she is alive or dead I w' soon know‘
for yonder burying—ground will tell the story.

4 ' Freelance, the Buccaneer.

“ ’Twas said she committed suicide after she
knew her father fell by my hand, and then that
etc was contradicted and none knew where
she d gone. _

“ She cannot live in yonder old mansioni
which time is rapidly making a. ruin of ; but
shall see— Hal’

q"it‘klv be bounded into the shadow of the
“335mm 3““ "av: as the roll of wheels came to
his ears andan instane after a, carriage appear-
ed on the highway, while lta occupants were
discussing the presence of the Inklzh-lookin
schooner lying at anchor so near inland, and
which the moonlight plainly revealed, floating
as silent as a coffin upon the waters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

upon

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

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

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

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

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

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

Crossing an n lawn or field he skulked rap-
Idl alon as t e moonlight fell full upon him,
an hasti y darted into the shadow of t e trees.

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

uic y the man bent over and read the in-
sc ption:

“ERECTED TO THE MEMORY
OF
MY FATHER,

FERDINAND DARRINGTON,
WEOFEILBYTEE HAND or
LAUNCELUI‘ VERTNER GRENVILLE,

Who, by his act, buried in this grave my every hope
in life."

With a groan of akable anguish the
man staggered back, $113: from his white lips
broke the cry:

“ 0h Heaven have mercy! I needed but this
blow in her to fill mv cu of bitterness to
overflowing. Lucille, oh, Luc lel how you have
misjudged me, and how your love has turned to
hate to cause you to place there on endurin
marble the story of the fatal act of mine again;
your father.”

The proud head was lowered, and the

untlet-gloved hands crept up and hid the
vice, as though to shut out the scene from

ew.

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

“ Launcelot Grenville l”

Instantlythe eyes of the man fell upon the

I form of awoman standin not ten feet from
him, and where the li ht o the moon, penetrat-
ing the foliage, fell fu 1 upon her.

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

Though her face was youthful, it was liv1d,
and each feature was imprinted with the mark
of sorrow and suffering, while her hair was as
white as snow and shone like silver threads in
the light of the moon.

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

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

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

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

“ ucillel Lucille I”

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

“Launcelot Grenville, I curse you 1’

 

 

CHAPTER IV.
A PRISONER.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, Lucille, Lucille, what have you done?
My cup of life’s bitterness was already drank to
the dregs, but on now have made me your
murderer, and it is more than I can bear. Lu-
cille, speak to me.”

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

Faster and faster he walked, mechanically
directing his way back toward the old home-
stead, and tottering u the steps of the piazza
he again stood before t 9 open window.

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

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

Like a knell of death the deep voice broke up-
on the ears of the two occupants of the room,
causing the woman to cry out, and the man to
spring to his feet in en erstitious horror.

But, unmindful of t e result Launcelot Gren-
ville bounded away, and with the speed of a
deer fled alon toward the beach, while above
him skurried ark masses of storm-clouds, hid-
in the moon from view.

ike a hunted stag he rushed along, passing
the spot where he had slain Ferd Darrintgton,
:13: dashing down the clifi‘ path stood besi e his
is.

The waters were already foam—capped, and a
fierce wind was rising, which sig ed in the
pines on the hill, and caused the seato moan

y.
As though it had been atoy, he launched his
boat, and sprin ' g in, seized the cars and bent
to his task of p ling right into the teeth of the
rim'ng gale.
It was a hard struggle, and the waves mo-
mentarily rising higher and higher dash over
him, wetting him through and through: but,
what cared he? and as for the danger he reveled
in it and would have gladly gone down to his
death than and there; ut, even in his poignant
'ef and despair, he thought of his crew—the
rave men who had followed him for years over
the trackiess waters, and he was determined to
save them, for his schooner was anchored upon

 

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

 

W‘

With giant stren th he bent to his oars, and
the light boat woul now and then bound from
wave to wave, and several times the plucky
oarsman believed that he must 0 down; but
presently he was under the lee of is schooner,
and his ringing hail soon brought a dozen mpes
to his aid and dragged his little craft on board.

“We are drifting badly, sir, and the gala
seems increasing,” said an officer, addressing
him in Spanish.

“Ay ay, sirl I know the schoonei"s danger
well. lip with those anchors, lads, and close-
reef and set the foremast staysail and mainsail !”

The men gave a cheer as the voice of their
captain rung out over the deck, and as the
anchors left the bottom the sails were set, and
the bows 0f the schooner swun off, to be driven
under by the force of the win is; then the craft
went plowinfiathrough the foam-covered waters.

Instantliy uncelot Grenville sprung to the
helm, an , by his own mi hty stren th, held
the craft upon her course, w lie the o cers and
crew stood at their posts, waitin , and watching
the tall form at the wheel, wit confidence in
their commander, though now all was midnight.
blackness around them.

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

But Inuncelot Grenville needed not these bea—
cons to guide him on his way, as he knew eve
foot of water around, and holding his helm with
grasp of iron held the schooner on her course,
though before him, and u 11 either side the
crew beheld a chain of islan s that made them
shudder as they swept by them.

“ Read all! Ready about!”

Instant y the men sprun forward to obey the
order; there was a wild ing of canvas, a
delu e of water over the bows, a reelin and
trem ling of the hull, and the schooner arted
away on another course, having passed throu h
the island chain and gained the open G ,
where the waves ran in untrammeled fu , and
the winds swept relentlessly down uponlthe de-
voted craft.

Calling two helmsmen to the wheel, and giv-
ing them directions what course steer,
Launcelot descended into his elegantly-furnish
ed cabin, and threw himself, all ripping as he

was, down upon a lounge, covering his face.»

with his hands as thou h to shut out some fear.
ful hantom that rose efore him.

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

Rushing from the cabin a fearful scene pre
sented itself, for above him towered a lofty
hull, and beneath his feet his beautiful schooner
was sinking, cut in twain by the hu e vessel

that had run him down, while his crew d been
hurled into the seething waters.
Mechanically he raiscd his hands and grasped

firmly the anchor cable of the huge ship, and
drew himself up above the scene of death an?
ruin, to, the next instant, be dra ged on board
by ready hand], just as he sun into uncon-
sciousness, from a severe blow he had received
by being dashed against the side of the vessel. It
was days before Launcelot returned to con-
sciousness. for high fever followed his injury,
and fora. Ion time his life was despaired of;
but through t e dreary hours of his illness he-
was most tenderly cared for by all, and _ e-
cially did one person hang over his pillow y
night and day.

One day the light of reason came back into
the dark eyes, and they gazed wearily around
the large cabin, ‘out of the stern orts upon the
placid waters, tinted by the dec ining sun, and
then they fell upon a person seated near him.

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

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

“ Where am I?” he asked faintly.

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

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

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

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

“ I must be in Paradise to have an angel for a
nurse,” was the low answer, and the words
brought a deep blush to the maiden’s face, for
she was barely nineteen and exquisitelylovely.

“You are indeed be r, when you can pay
compliments: but for a long time we behaved

on would die.”

“Yes. I recall all now—and my crew!" and
the strong man shuddered.

 

 

 

 

and!) Q

 

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Freelance, the Buccaneer. ' h 5

 

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

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

“You do not re 'et your being saved, do
you?” asked the mini en, in surprise.

U Yes I”

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

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

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

“ The English ship Reindeer, bound from Mo-
bile to Ca iz, Spain. Two weeks ago, in the
storm, we ran your schooner down.” ‘

“ One question more—who are you i”

“ I am the captain’s dau hter.” ‘

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

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

“ You feel better, sir? ’ he asked, bluntly.

“ Yes, sir.”

” Your name is—” '

“ Launcelct Grenville, a captain in the Mexi-
ban navy.”

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

“ I did, sir."

“You met there a maiden by the name of
Lucille, I believo?"

“Great God, sirl tell me what you know of
her?” and Launcelct Grenville arose from his
lounge.

“Be calm, sir, and, painful as it is tome, I
must do my duty, for your own words have
proven you a murderer, and your victim was a
Wfilnin. You are my prisoner, Captain Gren-
vi 0.

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

In his delirium he had told an, and he had
been saved from drowning to 'meet a far worse
fate; he had been nursed back to life to die ig-
nominiously—his was a bitter fate, indeed.

Hopeless, and in despair, he said, calmly:

fl‘lluam in your power; do with me as you
w1 .

 

CHAPTER V.
THE BLACK FLAG.

THE good ship Reindeer bounded swiftly along
upon her course, and in due time neared the
shores of Spain, and the hearts of the crew
were gladdened and their voyage was nearly
ended.

“To-morrow, Maud, we will be in Cadiz, if
this wind holds good,” said Captain Mcnken to
his beautiful daughter, as, comin on deck, he
found her idly gazing over the ta rail.

“ And you Will dehver the prisoner u to the
American consul, there, father?” asked and.

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

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

“ by, he confessed to having murdered a
young ' 1, and her father too.” I

“ In 5111: wild delirium of fever he called him-
selfa murderer, true, sir; but I do not believe
that it was more than the imagination of a heat-
!d brain.”

“Maud, I like not your defending this man,

t111d I am angry with you for not having made ,

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

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

_ He shall not die, for I do not believe him
E'UIRY- A man with his face could do no base
“eta, and his self—condemnation was but the
ravmgs of fever.”

i“ I nursed him back to life, and I will not let
mm die DOW. Ah! me, how he must sufler, his
vessel and crew lost, and he ironed, hand and
foot in that loathsome hold—”

“Sail, ho 1”

The ringing cry from the maintop suddenly
interrupted the unpleasant musings of Maud

-Menken, and caused her father to glance anx-

iously around, for his vessel was then in 3. dan-
gerous locality, a favorite cruising round of
the Moorish and Algerine corsairs, w 0, at the
time of which I write, were a deadly foe to the
commerce of the world.
“ Where away, sir ?” called out the captain in
truin et tones. ‘
. “ ree oints off the port bow, sir and head-
tow us,” was the reply of the look-out.
‘I see her now—a large, lateen-ri ed craft,
and I verily believe a corsair,” sai Captain
en, and he at once changed the shi ’5
course, and squared away before the wind, It:

 

lfie did not wish to allow the stranger to get near

1m.

“She is after us, sir,” said the first mate,
watching the other vessel tln'ough his glass.

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

In a short while the mate descended to the

co .

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

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

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

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

“ Father, there is one other that can aid you."

“Who, ' I?” and Ca tain Mcnken turned a]-
most gr y upon his aughter, who, since the
death of her mother years before, had always
accompanied him on his voya es.

“The Mexican captain, s1r.’

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

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

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

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

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

“Miss Men en, you are a noble girl, and I
thank you from my heart: release me and if
necessar I will come on deck to aid in defend-
ing the 5 ip.”

‘Not now must you come: only when the
combat has begun—then come to the cabin and
I will have arms ready for your use.”

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

Once more upon deck she beheld that the
stran e craft was now not a mile away, and
upon er decks were scores of men, while her
whole appearance proved beyond doubt that
she was a corsair.

“Maud, my child, go to the cabin, for they
are going to open fire u on us; but remember
that your old ether and is brave lads will de-
fend you to the last.”

The crew heard the words of their captain
and broke into a ringing cheer, for Maud was
beloved by every man on board.

With a breaking heart Maud threw herself
into her father’s arms, kissed him affectionately,
and waving her hand to the sailors, returned to
the cabin, Just as a shot from the bows of the
(clorsair shrieked above the decks of the Rein-

eer.

As the gun was fired, a black roll of bunting
Went up from the deck of the stranger, and the
Wind catching its folds, the hideous black flag
of the Moorish pirate was revealed.

At the sight of the sable ensign a groan broke
from the lips of the Reindeer’s crew, but not a
man quailed or shrunk from the deadly duty
all felt was before them.

“Mr. Burton let the stern guns answer the
cutthroat,” said Captain Mcnken, calmly, and
the two howitzers upon the stern of the ship
poured an iron bail upon the corsair, doing con-
Siderable execution upon his crowded decks.

Then the firin on both sides became hot and
fierce, and soon and, who was crouchin upon
her knees in the cabin, felt a terrific shoc , and
heard wild yells, as the two vessels came to-
gether and the corsairs hurled themselves upon
the deck of the ship.

Unable longer to stand the fearful suspense,
Maud started to go on deck, when several forms
bgltnded down the companionway and confront-
6 er.

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

But he was suddenly hurled backward with
a force that sent him into the furthest corner of
the cabini and, seizing from the table a sword

and isto
“ hank ud,

s, a man faced the ruthless gan . '
God!" broke from the lips of
and she crouched down and gazed upon the

 

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

Instantly one, two pistol-shots run out, I
clash of steel followed, and Lnuncelot renville
was the victor, While at his feet lay dead three
Moors.

“ Miss Mcnken, I be of you to conceal your-
self. I will 0 on dec to your father's aid,”
cried Launce 0t, and seizing the anms of the
slain Moors, he bounded from the cabin up the
coinpanionway.

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

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

“ At them lads, and hurl them into the seal”

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

“ The exicun! the Mexican 1” yelled the crew
of the Reindeer, and they pressed forward at
the back of the reckless man, and the corsairs
found themselves hurled backward by main
force.

From the companionway, Maud who had fol-
lowed Launcelct Grenville, beheld his magnifi—
cent courage, saw him throw himself into the
midst of the Moors, and beheld man after man

dro dead before the sweep of his sti'on arm,
whi e, with renewed coura e and hope, or fa-
ther and his men rushed to t e attack.

For awhile Maud believed that victor would

yet fall upon their side; but then the ow hull
of the Moorish vessel again ran alongside the
ship and from its decks, over the high bul~
works, ured another large force of corsairs
headed y a man in brilliant uniform ando
strikinga earance.

In the oorish tongue he cheered his fellow-
ers, and sweeping forward they drove the crew
of the Reindeer again aft, while their leader and
Launcelct met face to face.

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

is asp.

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

CHAPTER VI.
THE CORSAIR CHIEF.

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

But, not a muscle quivered as the corsair!
rushed upon him, and he stood upon his guard
to receive them, fearless, determined and courtr
in death at their hands.

iut the chief in a loud voice, and in the Moor-
ish tongue, gave an order to a dozen of his men,
and dropping their Wea ons, they rushed en
masse upon t eir daring oe.

Taken b surprise by this style of fighting,
Lamicelot renville had but time for one sweep
of his sword, and then he was dragged to the
deck, and in slpite of his struggles securel
bound and left ying among a heap of dead an
‘dying men.

From where he lay he saw the rush of the
Moors upon Captain Mcnken and his fewre-
maining followers and knew then that the fate
of cor Maud was sealed.

'hy he had not been killed he could not tell,
and as he beheld not one of the Reindeer’s crew
alive, he was glad that his life was spared, for
he possessed an indomitable will, and hoped in
some way to be able to serve the maiden who
had so tenderly nursed him in days of wild de—
lirium, and who had freed him from his irons,
that he might not die like a dog.

At an order from their officers, the Moors
made short work of the dead and d ing who
strewed the deck, for all were hurle into the
sea, after being robbed of what valuables they
possessed, and the cries of the wounded were
enough to awaken pity in any heart not in the
breast of a Moorish or A1 erine corsair.

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

At that moment an under officer a preached,
and releasing the prisoner of his bon s, beqion~
ed to him to follow, and he was led into a l \x~
uriousl furnished cabin of the corsair "I ‘1
where ' eyes fell upon the unconscious fol-n \f

 

 

  

Freelance, the Buccaneer.

 

Maud Menken 1 ing upon a divan of velvet, and
kneeling beside er, bathin her face in otto de
rose water, was the corsair eader.

As Launcelot entered, the chief arose to his
feet and faced him, a look of admiration and
out iosity blended u on his face.

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

His face was darkly bronzed, exceedingly
handsome, and yet cold and stern, while ‘5
hair black as ink, hung upon his shoulders.

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

“ You are English, I believe, sir?”

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

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

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

“ Indee i you :zrelucky.”

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

The chief arched his eyebrows, smiled mean<
ingl , and said with admiration in his tone:

‘ I, never saw men fight more gallantly than
did the crew of yonder ship, and you, sir, are
the best swordsman I ever met, for never be—
fore did I cro'ss blades with my equal, while

ou roved my superior, and fought like a very

evil?”

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

The chief again smiled, and said:

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

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

“Ah, you Certainly are not complimentary
to ypur captor; but what is the maiden to

on?

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

“You love her, then 3”

. “No, I respect and admire her; my heart is
dead to all love.”

The chief C{gazed quickly into the face of the
speaker, an seemed to read intuitively that
some deep grief had fallen upon his prisoner,
and his voice was kind, as he said:

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

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

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

“ My life is worthless to me; if you wish it,
take it.”

The chief gazed earnest] upon his prisoner

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

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

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

“ So be it; and this young girl?”

“ Will be sent to the sultan s harem.”

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

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

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

But at length the beautiful eyes slowly open-
ed, and with a strange delicacy, not to be looked
for in one who had won the name of the Red
‘ Rais, on account of his cruel deeds, the corsair

‘V chief stepped back from View, and said:

.r “Let her see your face, su‘. ’

Launcelot at once advanced to the side of
Maud, who, at sight of him, stretched forth her
hands, and cried:

“Thank Heaven, ou are safe! but my poor
lather, what of him? ’ . '

, * “He died like a brave man, MISS Menken, de-
v'tendin his dec ."

"‘Degdi My poor father dead, and I am all
alone,” and the poor girl bowed her head in

so of. ,.

' " 4 . t t ‘ l.” ,

’i fliers. error.“ we...
sass «smash: - «  I

 

 

“ What can be worse?” she whispered.

“ You are the captive of a Moorish corsair.”

“ And y’ou! are not you also a captive?”

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

She understood him, and a. shudder shook her
frame, as again the proud head was bowed in
SOI‘I‘OW.

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

“ I do not fear to die and with my own hand
will I take my life when hope has left me. I
can free my soul, if not my body, from the
power of the cruel Moor.”

“ Lady, let me beseech you not to harm your-
self. In m care you are safe, and I will see
that no imignityis offered you, for you are
destined for the palace of the sultan,” and the
corsair ste ped forward and confronted Maud,
who shrun back at sight of him.

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

“ You do not Seem like a Moor; you speak 337
language as though it were your own, and ' l
have mercy upon me.”

“Lady, from the moment that you came on
board my vessel, I hold no power over you;
you are the prize of the Sidi, m master,” and
the corsair left the cabin, and and was alone
with Launcelot Grenville.

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

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

Allowed unrestricted freedom on board the
corsair vessel, Launcelot and Mind were pacing
the deck to ether, the second day after their
capture, an , as was now their custom, plotting
some means of esca , when the quick eye of
the sailor caught sig t of a distant sail.

Without appearing to notice it, he said,
quietly:

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

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

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

Nearer and nearer came the strange craft;
higher and higher it arose above the horizon,
until there was no doubt of two things regard-
ing it in the mind of Launcelot—first, that it
was a vessel-of-war, and second, that it was an
American.

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

“Itis because she comes up astern. She is a
small bri ~of-war, carrying a. dozen guns, and
will attac this craft, strong as it is, if her com-
mander has the right pluck, and from the we}?!
gnomes on, I believe he has. There comes 1

1s.

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

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

“Dogs of a burnt grandfather! do you sleep
when the foe is upon you? Ahoy here, the
watch and the officer of the deck! To my feet,
blind hounds!”

Instantly all was excitement on board, and
the drowsy watch were now wide awake, and
with the officer of the deck, came walking sul-
lenl toward their chief.

“ 0 your guns, dogs! Now, hounds of a
cursed race, what have you to say?” and "he
turned his flaming e es u n the Soto Rais* and
the two look-outs, w o s runk before his gaze.

“ Merc , oh mighty skimmer of the sea, and
as le of t e blue waters!” cried the Soto Rais.

ut the eyes fell upon the two seamen, and
dropping upon their knees they sung out in
cho -

rus.
“ Mighty Rois el Rais,+ thy slaves beg thy’

mere 1”

Bu there was no mercyI in that handsome,
dark face, and waving his and he said simply:

“ You must die, for your blindness may cost
better men their hves.”

The three doomed men bowed their heads in
submission, and at another wave of the hand a
negro of giant form approached, bearing in his
hand a huge sword. '

t: Llet them die; do your duty,” said the chief,
s rn .

Up Ste this moment neither Launcelot nor
Maud had believed that the guilty three Would
be very severely punished; ut now they saw
that their fate was to be death, and the maiden

' Lieutenant. 1* Captain ofpr
i v * ,,' '

 

   
   

r
,1,

 

the bow-guns of the bri , bould ;

w.

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

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

Maud turned away, and yet her ears heard
the swish of the sword, and the thud as it struck.
the neck of the Soto Rais.

The negro executioner knew his hideous duty
well for the head dropped from the shoulders
and rolled down to the lee scuppers, a hideous

51 ht.

Instantly the executioner approached the next
victim, and again the revolting scene was repeats
ed, and again, until the three men with no cry
for mercy u on their lips had su ered the pen-
alt to whic their chief had condemned them.

5 the bodies were thrown into the sea, a puff
o smoke came from the bows of the stran e
vessel, and a solid shot came flying after tge
corsair craft, but fell short.

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

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

“ Yes, when only her topmasts were visible,"
frankly returned Launcelot.

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

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

“ Oh, es, I have twice before fought that V68:
56]. It Is the brig-of—war, Hornet.”

Launcelot Grenville started, for the last time
he had heard of his brother Arthur, he was a
junior lieutenant on board the Hornet. A.
crowd of bitter memories rushed upon him.

“Perhaps we may change places, Captain
Grenville, and I, in a short while, be a captive;
if so, I will to you this rin : it will be a talis-
man to protect you from a Moorish and Al e-
rine corsairs ” and El Rais handed to Launce ot
a massive g0 d rin in which was set a blood‘
red stone, with a diamond of rare luster imbed-
dad in the center,

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

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

Mechanically Launcelot Grenville took the1
ring, or, rather allowed the chief to place it up
on his finger, and, ere he could reply, there cam!
another shot from the American brig, which 1
went flying just above the deck of the corsair:

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

In a moment El Rais returned, equipped for
the fray, and in his eyes there was a dangerous
glitter, while his deep voice rung out in orders
to his savage crew.

Instanth the corsair vessel wore round, and
from her roadside a heavy fire was poured up—
on the Americin, who, in spite of being hit hard
returned the fire savagely.

Calmly surveying the combat, Launcelot
Grenville at once arrived at the conclusion that
the American was determined not to board the
corsair, or allow the Moor to board him, well
knowing the desperate courage of his foe at
close quarters. A

The reason for this, Launcelot discovered, was
that the American seemed to have asmall crew,
and would trust to crippling the Moor with his
guns and either make ’ strike his colors, or

Sm III). L ‘
That the Rais was not fighting in his usual
way, by running in and boarding, Launcelot ,

saw also, and knew that he was also short of
men, after his losses in his fight with the Rein-
deer. and the rize crew sent off on that ship,-
besides, he had ittle to gain by capturing eves-

sel-of—war, as beauty and booty were what the ,1

Moor wanted, and not hot shot and steel.

For some moments the two vessels swung
round in a circle, pouring in a hot fire at the dis
tance, of a few cables’ ength, and then each
seemed to wish to draw off to a greater ran e;.
but before the) 58 rated to too great a 's-
tance Launcelot renville, through a glass
handed him by the courteous Rais, recognized
upon the quarter-deck of the American, his
brother Arthur. -

“I will have to run for it, for onder comes
another enemy I know well—an .
and El Rais pointed off on the horizon, where ;
was visible a. sloop—of—war hastening to the, ‘
scene.”

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

Crowdin his vessel with all the canvas it
could stan , the Rais flew on,_whi1e his stern '
guns poured upon the American 8. hot fire which.
was returned with interest. 1 . . ‘ , ,'
Astern, two leagues, came the E hsh sloopv
of-war, crowded with canvas and ' ,thefire It

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curd , and he turned again
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v x

\ Freelance, the Buccaneer.

 

would be but one alternative for E1 Rais, and
that was to fight it out to the bitter end, or
surrender. ' _

“ Captain Grenville, if I am crippled, I Will
never surrender in vessel, but b ow her up
'with my crew; yet will first place you and my
‘fair captive in a small boat, and cast you free.”

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

“ For the sake of Miss Menken and yourself, I
could aunost wish that my determination would
have to be carried out; but for my sake, I would

refer that you remain my captives,” and_he
tinned away to watch the effects of the brig's
fire, his face as placid as though no danger, or
terrible death threatened him.

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

A yell broke from the corsair crew at this, for
they seemed to read their fate in their chief's
face, should victory 0 against them. .

But the English 5 oop-of-wnr was comian on
with a huge bone in her teeth, and the Moor
kept his vessel under all the canvas that would
draw, and still poured it hot fire from his stern
guns at the American, who by no means had
given up the chase. .

With ale, stern face, unmnidful of the dan-
er to imself, Launcelot Grenville stood on
eck, watching the flying fight, and then turned

his eyes ahead. .

The Rais saw his look, and said quietly:

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

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

lace our fair captive in one of our boats and
cave or to be icked up by yon or vessel.”

“ And your e f l” quietly asked E1 Rais.

“ For myse I ask nothing; in fact I would
rather become the slave of a cruel Moor, than
meet one person on yonder bn'g.” .

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

“I am sorry, sir, but I cannot release this
lady; it is as much as my head is worth, did it
get to the ears of the idi, and it certainly
would; but for that I do not care—I have
stronger reasons for wishing to detain her; but
you, sir, I will drop astern in a boat, if you will
accept your pardon, and you can disguise your-
Self so that you need not be known to the one
you care not to meet.”

Launcelot was surprised; what could the Rais
mean?

Would he not be res onsible to the Sidi for

‘him as well as for Mau ?

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

Will (you disguise yourself, sir, and accept
your par on?" ca mly asked El Rais.

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

His brother he had not seen since they parted
several years before in perfect brothertly love
though rivals for the hand of a woman lat had
come between them. .

After that arting when he determmed to re-
turn to the exican service, and leave his
brother free to marry the woman he knew that
he dearly loved, Arthur Grenville had suddenly
disap named, and circumstantial eVidence penit-
ed tollauncelot Grenville as his murderer, and
he was tried and convicted of the crime, but
escafied, as the kind reader knows. from be—
neat the very gallows, and went again into the
service of Mexico. " ,

Whether his brother had married Helen

rainard he knew not, but he had once heard
0: him as an officer on board the Hornet, and on
the deck of that vessel, not a mile away, he‘had
I‘tBCI'lgmzed him, and his heart went forth in a
191181115 '50 clasp his hand; but before him arose
ms , his sufferings, his condemnation to
death, and then the terrible fate of poor Lucille,
and he shrunk from meeting Arthur.

True, the return of his brother the day after
LFMWIPVS 9505139 from the gallows, had proved
htm 1mm 0 his death, or wrong against
him; at then the (Bf-crushed man felt that
90”. bitter cum unted his life, and he de-
termined 1’0 he considered as dead to all who
had_known him before.
mgldg‘tfiatgggpgthe offir lof El Rais he would be

; e wou eav

to 1% er gate. d 6 poor Maud alone
0’ 9 “70111 remain a risoner and rha S
in some Way he could yet Isharve the mai en. p
f‘I prefer ‘0 remain a prisoner, El Bais,” be
$33 findenswerfip thel pastor; of the chief if he
15311158 lmse on reco iti n nd

me this freedom. y .3“ ° a
Rois, somewhat

,‘“ . you please,” said E1
to the duties de-
. supon‘him. .
and 1 her. loomed p the hills of

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

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

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

She obeyed, though her face showed traces of
suffering, and she bitterly felt the change from
be )e to despair.

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

CHAPTER VII.
WITHOUT MERCY.

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

It was strongly fortified, and from its well-
protected haven, half a dozen vessels, large and
small, were wont to sally forth to cruise against
the commerce of the world, and though carry«
ing the flu. of the Moor, also floated above
their deck t 0 black ensign of the pirate, which
(clei'tiainly was more fit to represent their dark

ee 3. ‘

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

Twenty-flve or six years before, an American
girl, a captive, had been purchased by Sheik
Aboukah, and the Red Rais was the ofi’sprin
of this ill-matched union, though the old chie -
tain had always treated his fair young wife
with great courtesy and kindness.

Contrary to the wish of his parents, the young
Aboukah took to the sea, and his great cour-
age soon placed him in command of a. vessel,
and won for him the respect and admiration of
his sultan who made him commodore of the
stronghold and fleet.

Thou h abold rover, and who had won the
name 0 the Red Rais ii 11 account of his many
victories and battles, El is was wont to spend
a few months (if each year at his mountain
home with his parents, until death took from
him his mother, and his father dyin soon after,
the young corsair became chief, or s eik of the
Amuzerg tribe, and from their brave ranks he
formed the crew of his vessel, and his will was
su reme.

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

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

“ My friends, I must still claim you as my
gluests, but at myeguarters ashore» Come 1” and

lRais a proac the s t where his captives
stood, an motioned to a arge boat alon Side.

Without a word they entered it, and t e keel
soon after grated upon the beach, and El Rais

laced Maud on shore, and tellin Launcelot to
ollow, led the way up the steep illside to his
quarters when on an .

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

Assignin Maud a pleasant room, he escorted
Launcelot another, and to their surprise they
saw no guard placed over them; but then how
hopeless the thought of escape in that land of
the Moor. _ . .

The followmg mornin El Rais sent for his
captives, and then Joule them at breakfast, for
his mother’s trainm , and experience with for-
eigners, had made 0 this strange man almost a
Euro n in taste and manners.

Both68 of the captives noticed that the Rais
seemed moodyen that his brow was clouded,
so they were not surprised when he said, in his
quiet way: .

“ This morning we must part, my friends.”
Neither
ued'

   
 
 
 

  

 
  

   
 

All!

 

x

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

Maud started, and her face grew livid; ti
Launcelot calmly asked:

“Have you many prisoners, El Rois!”

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

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

“Besides,” continued the corsair chief “the
sultan’s messenger is accompanied by his own
guard under the kairl of the slaves.”

“ Then there is no hope,” groancd Maud Men
ken, in a broken voice.

“I must obey my sultan, lad :‘y‘our escort
will he ready to start within hal an our—an
well.’

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

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

“ How can I!”

His voice was cold and his face emotionless.

“"Tho servant who acted as my niaid served
your mother in the same capacity. She speak?
English, and she told me you were a great chief
on land as well as on the sea, and that your
tribe dwelt in the mountains, a few leagues
from here. Certainly a man thus powerful can.
ask of his sultan two unfortunate captives; he"
will accede to your desire, and Captain Gren
villc and myself can then go free, for you have
a noble heart in spite of the red name you
bear.”

Maud spoke with deepest feeling, and in ‘3
pleading tone, but the chief’s face never relaxed
a muscle; he would not grant her request, and
said in his even tones:

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

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

"His messenger has, and so has the kaid ('1‘
the slaves: they saw you when we landed last
highs.’ I am sorry, but I cannot grant your re
ques . '

Igor an instant Maud was silent, and then sh!
sax :

“ You can at least let this gentleman go
free?”

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

“Heaven have mercy upon us!” groaned poor
Maud; but Launcelot Grenville showed no ill 11
of dreading his fate, though in his face dwet
deep sympathy for the maiden, while he in-
wardly cursed his inability to aid her.

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

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

Bot the chief and Launcelot Grenville were
struck with admiration at the magnificent cour—
age of the maiden, and she certainly never look
9 more beautiful in her life than she did at that
moment, for her form was drawn u to its full
hight,a flush was upon either chee , her If
curled with scorn, and were yet resolute, whfig
her wondroust expressive eyes flashed fire.

With a how the chief left the room, and a fa?!~
moments after acavalcade drewu before the
door, consisting of half a hundred Moorish ca7~
alry, a score or more of miserable captives,
mostly Spaniards, and unong whom were sév~
and women, a gorgeousl -uniformed Moor, who
was the officer sent as t 18 messen r of the suln
tan, and a huge negro, hideous in looks, and
richly attired, whom the Rais addressed astha
kaid of the slaves.

A riclil -ca arisoned horse was read for
Maud, an a s ave woman brou ht and threw
around her a veil, which comp etely hid her
form and face.

Then the kaid of the slaves ste ped forward
and ut out his arm to raise her to the saddle,
but 1 Rais thrust him aside and raising her in
his arms, seated her see ely, and placed the
reins in her hands, the ka soowling upon him.

“ And this dog of a Christian—bind him "and

the kaid turned to Launcelot, who was a once

ized.
_ “Hold! that man rides with free arms and
limbs. It is my wish he is not bound,” said E'i
Rais, quietly. v

f‘ U n your head be it, oh Rois,” angrily r9-
plied he kaid. »

“Upon In head be it, dog of an occurseu'
race,” came he quick retort.

 
 

 
 

hilt of his sword, but he caught the lies in
of the corsair chief, and turned away; but here.
was that in his look which betokened no in
Launcelot Grenville, should he give thee htes:
cause of offense. , ’
A horse was then brought, and
mountipg the cavalcade moved awa

  

   

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at , an ‘wa n :
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The kaid dropped his hand upon the en ,‘

  
 

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Freelance, the Buccaneer.

 

 

ing country, and the cavalcade came to a halt
under the shadow of a low range of hills, and
pre arations were made for camping for the
nig t‘,1 the captives all being considerably to.-
ti 1e .

veral of the guards at once pitched a silken
tent for Maud and the other female captives,
and food was placed before them, while the
male prisoners were allowed to shift for them-
selves.

Untrammoled by bonds, and his breast mm
with sorrow for the fate of Maud, Launcelot
Grenville walked a short distance away, but the
watchful eye of the kuid was upon lllll, and
feeli how impossible it was to escape, he threw
bimse 13 down to rest, in full sight of the en-
campment.

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

Like the wind they swept around the camp,
and loud and rapid rung out the rattle of mus—
ketry, as the guards of the kaid fired upon them.

A moment only did the combat last, and then
the attacking horsemen dashed away, while
from their midst came a loud cry:

“ Save me, oh, save me!”

It was the voice of Maud Menken, and Launce—
lot Grenville knew that she appealed to him
for aid. ‘

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

CHAPTER VIII.
IN BONDAGE.

BENEATII the shelter of a few date trees,
which, grouped together above a spring of wa-
ter, formed an 08515 in the deserte—an island of
verdure surrounded b a sea of rolling sand and
arid desolation—stoo a man, gazing out over
the wild waste of dreariness with a far—away
look that proved his thoughts had flown to
other scenes than those by which he was sur-
rounded.

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

Scattered among the trees, having just re-
fresned themselves at the cool water of the
spring. were a number of camels, while flocks

not hardy desert sheep cropped at the grass that

grew around.
It was near the sunset hour, and like a huge
ball of fire the God of Day was descending be-

" yond the desert horizon, and altogether the

scene was not unpicturesque with the lonely
man there amid the dumb bru s it was his duty
'to care for.

In that splendidly formed man, in spite of the
two long and cruel years of bondage he had un—
dergone, in spite of his cruel sufferings and
desert life and notwithstandin his Ion and
matted hair and heard, the r or canno fail
to recognize Launcelot Grenville.

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

ut the fire in his eyes was not quenched, the

, fearless, resolute face was still the same, though

marked by lines of physical suffering and men-
tal algony, heart-burnings and despair of hope on
cart

He.had been taken to the Moorish capital,
and had become the property of the kaid of the
slaves, who sold him to a sheik of the desert,

' and far away he was dragged by his master to

his home in that wilderness of sand. Home!
Alas, his home was to drift with the wild tribe
from place to place, to sleep upon the sands, to
eat that whic was thrown to him as a dog,

: g from the savage who held his life in his hand—

to tend the four-footed wealth of the Moor who

had paid his old for him, and to broad over his l

sorrows and ope on for a time when he could
escape from thralldom.
Suddenl far 011' on the desert his quick eye

, caught sig.t cf 8. moving object, and be bent his

upon it.
“ It is a camel, but mine are all in the oasis,”

' he said, indiflerently, glancing over the herd.

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

-‘- ‘ Upon making this discovery, the herdsman
e

“ stepped off a.
‘ ion

w pacesi and returned with a

g musket, which he eaned against the tree

‘; i, at his side.

Another glance at the coming camel showed
in: that another animal of like species followed
' the’wake of the leader, but that this one had

g, swinging pace the two camels came
ding directly for the oasis, and with
ends stretched far in frontpwith that

z yshown b these “ ships of the
. v "i - hen they know t at water is near. .

 

I Moor

"bu—i.

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

“ Allah aricnak,”* said the stranger quietly,
and the herdsman bade him welcome.

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

“ His herds are here; I am their tender.”

The stranger razed straight into the face of
the speaker, Lilli said, distinctly:

“ Grenville!"

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

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

As he had learned to speak the Jan uage per-
fectly, during his years of bondage, auncelot
retumerl:

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

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

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

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

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

“I will go with you this night; no change
can ’be for the worse, and what care I for dan—
ger?

The Moor's face brightened, and going to his
saddle, he untied a bundle attache to it and
handed to the herdsman, who eagerly opened
it. .

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

Eagerly the white slave searched for another
missive that might tell him more than he could
find out from the one who had brought him
hope, but nothing else was visible. and the
Moor’s mouth was sealed as to where he was
going, or from whence he had come.

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

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

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

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

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

At once he made known to his companion and
guide who they were, but trusting to his dis-

guise as a merchant, hoped to pass unrecognized

y them.

With manifestations of friendshi the two
ai'ties approached each other, Abda iah Bour—
"h and is brothers mounted upon the swift,
wiry steeds of the desert.

Not to betray himself the herdsman remained,

silent, and the Moor did the talking, telling lies
about who they were, or rather were not, as
ghny as though lyin was his professmn.

But all the time A allah was eylng Launce-
lot closely, and as the parties separated the old
Shell: of the desert shook his head ominousl
. Hardly had a mile divided them. when
mg back the Moor saw a camel with a r1 or on

his back dash over a sand-hill and halt by the

horsemen, at the same time pointing toward the
fugitives. ' ,

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

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

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

“ Abdallah ourkih is a great elk,” the

,sug ested. ‘ , ~
1‘: would kill the sultan didhe stand between

 

I’dnc- ‘

 

 

J it

me and freedom,” was the determined reply}.
8

and the Moor caressed his heard at the thou
of any one offering harm to the great Sidi.

It was now evident that the camel-rider had
gone to the oasis, and finding the herdsman not

there, had started in pursuit, for he was gesticu- .

lating wildly, and the result was the four Moors
turned on the track of the fugitives.

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

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

“ Mezra ), son of an accursed race, stop at the
command of thy master!” veiled Abdallah,
when they came close enough 0 be heard.

“ Sheik Abdallah press me not, or I will kill
you,” cried Launce 0t, in stem tones.

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

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

The reply of the Moor was to fire at his slave.
It was the last act of his life, for, as the bullet
from his pistol whizzed above the head of
Launcelot, the musket sprung to his shoulder, a
report followed, and the Sheik Abdallah fell
from his saddle, a dead man. -

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

“ Shoot them down or they will bring a hun-
dred riders upon our track.”

Selim at once obe ed; his musket flashed with
the two pistols of auncelct, and the weapons
of their enemies.

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

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

“Come, Selim; it were useless to attempt to
catch him. Lot us take their arms and away
from here,” cried Launcelot, and seizing the
weapons and provisions of the dead Moors, the
two men mounted their fleet camels, and at a
steady, swinging gait, pressed on their way, for
they well. knew that Abdallah’s whole tribe
would he in pursuit within a. few hours, when
warned by the sheik’s son of his father’s death
at the hands of his slave.

CHAPTER IX.
THE AMAZERG QUEEN.

WITHIN the heart of the range of mountains
that run back from the coast, a few leagues in
the interior of Morocco, dwell the Amazer
the most warlike and intelligent of the Moorish
tribes, and who, under a chief who inherits the
title which descends from father to son, are the
most feared of any of the wandering racesof
that strange land.

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

 

..

The best horsemen of Morocco, owning the,

the best and fleetest herd of desart or mountain
steeds, armed literally from head to foot, and of
s lendid physical development, they were foes
that few dared to meet, and were called both
mountian lions and desert kings, for they were
equally at home in scaling the lofty hlghts or
flying across the sandy plains. ,

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

Half-reclinm upon a silken divan out upon
the cool veran a, and gazing listlessly far over
the superb and grand scene spread out before
her-4a scene of mountain fastn _ vallsys,
sparkling streams, tree-covered hills, a do
stretch of desert and the blue sea beyond—was
a woman of surpassing loveliness, and scarcely
over twenty-one or two.

Her form was exquisitely molded, and attired
in the retty costume worn by Moorish women,
while i; e vail was thrown back over the silken
turban. v ‘ v ; f.

A fortune in jewelswas upon herperson, a

guitar lay at her side, a silver tray with fruit '

and ooflee stood near, were piled in co

fusion ,upon they-floor and  I

thatshe'was apeth beauty indulged
. ,, 4 I

r

 

 

 
    

 

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, ed to command her in place of

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I

back in the dreamy eyes dwelt a look of deep
sadness, as though the roses that strewed her
path did not keep the thorns out of her heart

and a sigh that broke from her slightly-parted
lips told that some sorrow had come upon her.

As she turned her eyes, from their wistful
gaze across the sea they fell upon two horse n
ascending the hillside toward the house, and. 0
half sprung from the divan as she appeared to
reco ize one of them.

“ t is Selim—yes; but the other—no, it can-
not be and yet it may be, for it has been long
since I saw him. Yes it is, it is none other!
That form I can never forget," and she aroso to
her foot, just as the horsemen halted near and
sprun to the ground, while one of them ad«
vanc quickly, gazing intently into the face of
the woman.

“ Captain Grenville! Free at last} Thank
Heavenl" and the woman held out both hands
to greet the man who advanced toward her and
sprun n the piazza.

“ an Menkeul You then are my preserverl

I have guessed it ” and Launcelot Grenville
bent low and kissed the hand that grasped his
own.
“I saved you, yes. Would to God I could
have done so long ago, but," and the beautiful
face flushed crimson “ I am no longer the Maud
Monken you knew, Captain Grenville, for I am
the wife of—”

“ The Red Rois?" broke in Launcelot.

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

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

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

“ nable to save me, o nly, from the fate
for which I was intended, 0 arranged that his
mountain horseman should kidnap me that night
when we cam d, and Iwas brought hither

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

“ You, it was said, were killed in the attack
upon the cam i, and bitterly I mourned for you,
and so did I Rsis, for it was his intention to
have )urchasod you, and in the end to give you
your reedom.

“A week after my coming here, El Rais ar~
rived, and frankly told me of his love for me,
beggin me to become his wife.

ed for a year to consider, told him that
I was cast dewn in grief for the death of my
father and yourself and he gladly gave me the
promise that I should go free at the end of that
time if I did not then love him.
’ “ but, during those twelve months he proved
himself so no lo, and in so many little ways
showed his true manhood, that from admira-
tion, in regard turned to respect and love, and
he iel ed to m wish to have a priest unite us,
an one year have been his wife and the
Queen of the Amazerfi, and, though I am not
happy in this land of t e Moors, I am at least
at peace. ” _

“ I believe that you have acted Wisely, Maud
and I hope every happiness may ever attend

on. I will never for et that you saved me

rom a fate more cruelt an dent ,” andLaunce-
lot Grenville shuddered at the thought of his
lr'on captivity. '

“ t me tell you about that; afew months
3&0 E1 Rais was called to see the sultan, and
w ile in the city learned in some way that you
had not been killed, as we believed, but were
sold’ into slavery to a sheik of the desert, Abdal-
lfih B'mrk'ih, and I immediately determined to
send a trusty messenger to see if he could find
70“. and you know not how happy I am that
you are once more free. How you must have
suffered, you only can tell.

t seems like a lo horrible dream to me
now: but, God forevefiless you, fair Queen of
the Amazergs, for awaking me from the hid-
9035 nightmare. But the Rois—where is be?”

He returns to-night, and will be delighted
to $99 You, for he has spoken of making you,
Should Sellm return successful from his search,
‘1 BM" 80‘" Rid-9* Of his new vessel, which the
Quinn had hunt for him, and which he does not
mt’l‘ml ‘50 00mmde 88 he will leave the sea, and
dwell here among his eople.” ,

“ I am 11911101955 an hopeless, fair q>ueen, but
I do not think I could accept the offer. ’

“You could do much good by so doing, as Ms-
surah Rais, the man whom the Sidi hasappoint-
El Rais, is a mon-
ster inhuman, and woe be to the poor captives
wIioam 11.1%?!” viii d
i- once 0.. tea e seemed‘ 1 moved b
the w‘ordsof the Amazerg queeieifp £11 had b2-

 

\. 4.

Freelance, the Buccaneer.

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

A corsair he must be, it was true and yet he
was becoming reckless as to what F’ate made of
him and he said, after an instant’s deliberation:
“ it El Rals makes me Bash sum Rain, I will
accept it, come what may, for I am but the
football of Fate.”

CHAPTER X.

THE MYSTERIOUS PILOT.

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

he hull, that seemed to crouch upon the wa-
ter, was pierced for six guns to a broadside, and
mounted three iivot long tliirty-twos, forward,
aft and amidships, which could be worked to
fire both starboard and port.

The sails were of enormous size for the tou-
naga of the craft, and that she was fast in a re-

markable degree was demonstrated by the fact '

that she was making four knots out of a two-
knot breeze.

Upon the decks were fully a hundred and
fifty men, a wild, cruel-looking set of fellows,
who would have enjoyed throat—cutting as a
s iort.

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

At the peak of the main lateon-yard floated
the flag of the Moor, while at the foi‘e-vui'd
peak was a black flag with a. red cimeter 1n the
center.

Suddenly the officer, before referred to as not
being as cruel~visaged as his com anions, sprung
to the helm and put it hard down, while his
defi; voice aroused every man to action.

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

As the stranger forged out beyond the int,
a scene of excitement was visible upon her ( evks,
and the roll of the drum heating to quarters was
distinctly heard, for the Moor was now evident-
ly seen by every eye on the sloop.

Without an order, and accus omed to daily
and nightl combats, the Moors had at once
spiung to t ieir guns, and in an instant the cor-
sair was stripped for action, should it be forced
upon her; but as the stranger was double her
size it would be madness to fight, except asn.
last resort, and surrender meant treatment as
pirates.

The officer who had first discovered the
strange vessel, and had put the corsair for the
shore, turned his glass calmly u n the sloop
and azed for some time attentive y at the flag.
wliic i, when the wind raised its folds, proved
to be the stars and stripes.

Luiflng up, so as to bring her broadside to
bear, the American cured in a hot flre'upon
the flying corsair as er uns came in range
but except a. splintered ulwark and sever
shots through the sails, no damage was done.

To the surprise evidently of the corsairs, and
also doubtless of the Americans, the officer who
commanded the Moorish vessel gave no order to
return the fire, 0in stood on toward the coast
with all the speed t at could be gotten out of the
li ht wind.

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

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

loop:I

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

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

“Then give 'him another broadside, though I
hate to cut up the pretty vessel.”

“ _Ay, av, Sir," and giving the order the sloop
again luffed, and »once more a broadside was
pom'edhnpon the flying corsair, and this time it
was evident that a number of the crew suffered.

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

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

“ I cannot account for it, sir. Ah, see ther ;
he has a hole to run into.”
As Arthur Grenville pointed to, the corsair
craft, the long, shin-p bowsprit and head-sails
den] dies ' from sight,‘ ,- ‘

sud  "If. ,seit,

  

 

    
   
  
    
   
   
  
   
   
    
   
    
    
  
   
   
   
    
  
    
  
    
   
     
  
  
  
  
  
   
    
    
   
   
   
  
   
   
   
   
   
   
  
  
  
   
  
    
  
   
  
   
    
   
    
  
   
  
     
   
  
   
   
  
    
  
   
   
   
  
  
   
   
   
   
  

(IL—o

face of the cliff, and a moment after the
fa] hull and clouds of canvas had vanish

“It is toole Stand onuwe are, and their
Iwill lay toand let you pursue in the boats,
Grenville, for we must take that fellow if pos-
sible," said Captain Brainnrd, and, after a
preaching as near the coast as he dared
sloo was brought to, and the boats lowered and
filler with men. ‘

“Do not be rash, Grenville, and if I wish h)
recall you I will tire a gun,” and Captain Brat“
gard watched #13 Ilfilltél row awn);th saw them

isuppear, as a t o corsair in eve face 01
the c ifl’. ’ v ry

An hour passed away, and Captain Brainard
grew restless, for no sound of combat had come
to his ears the wind had died away, and he was
forced to drop an anchor to keep from drifting
upon the rock coast.

Then night was coming on, and far up in the
skies clouds were skin‘rying along with lightning '
speed while all below was calm. ,

“Curse the Moorl I believe he has led us
into a trap, and if a storm comes on from sea-
ward wo are likely to drive ashore. I wonder
What has become of Grenville?"

Thus another hour paSScd and the indications
of a storm becoming more decided, and mgtat
hand Captain Brainai'd gave the signal rem
call the boats.

The deep boom of the heavy gun broke the
calm, and echoed with ominous roar far ale '
the rocky, inhospitable shores, until it died 32%
in the d-stance: but moments passed away
yet no sign of the returning bouts.

“ Fire another gun, Mr. Armstrong, and keep
them u i, for I don’t like our present situation
at all. Ve have no wind to ut to sea with, no
boats to tow us off shore, an two—thirds of the
crew gone,” said Captain Bi'ainard, pacing anx-
iously to and fro.

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

At length however, the sound of oars wa!
heard, and the lookout hailed:

“Boat, alio l What boats are those?" .

“Ay, ay, :1 l rightl”

The answer was in the well-known voice oi
Arthur Grenville, and Captain Brainard felt!
great weight removed from his heart.

“ Well, Arthur?” he exclaimed, meeting hi!
lieutenant at the gungway. -

“ We meet with no success, sir, and could find
no trace of the corsair, although I searched
every inlet and basin. Where she can haw
gone is a mystery to all of us, and I was unwill-
ing to give u the hope of finding him as longs!
there was lig t. "

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

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

“ He has some haunt inshore, Grenville.”

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

“ Let him go for the present, and let us look
to our own safety. See, the ocean is getting
restless, and we have not wind ’enough to
move."

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

“Impossible; the tide sets in so strong, all
now the swell, that I was forced tode both
anchors."

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

1 “ "rue, and if we cannot beat out, we will be
0st. .

The prospect of. the sloop was anything but
cheering, as the roar of the coming storm m
louder each moment, and was riv‘ln , ~
ward, while the coast was not a third 0 a mil.
swag.

“ loop-cf-war ahoyl”

The deep voice startled all on board the vessel,
and caused many of the superstitious sailors to
crouch with fear, coming as did the hall tron. «
out the pitchy darkness landward. '

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

“Ay ayl Who hails?” called out Artth
Grenvi le.

“ One who would serve you ” was the re

“ A , ayl Come alongside,” answe
thur renville.’

Immediately out of the gloom was visilie
small dark object comin toward‘ the
and an instant after a boa ran under the
lee, and a tall form nimbly sprung over
hulwarks and confronted Captain Brainard
his officers. - ‘ \

He was attired in the uniform of an em “tr
the Moorish piratical navy and the battle-Jan»
texm’ rays caused the jewels he wore, and
gem-hilted sword and pistols, to glitter lih -‘ '
sparks of fire. ‘ . 7»

Six feet in hight, broad-shouldered, ultra!
as an arrow, and with long, flowmg

:1
hair, he was ‘a sti'ikiug’lookhig was;
pacer: and seamen of e vessel-ohm v

{lama contain respect
a ,

y.- ; '-

     
 
 
      
   
 
    

  

  

  
  

       
   
   
  
   
   

  
 

  
  
 

  
 

 

10

Freelance, the Buccaneer.

 

 

 

 

Although he had before spoken in English. he
now turned to Captain Brainard and addressed
hhn in French.

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

“ None know that fact, sir, better than we do
ourselves; but how are we to remedy the evil?”

“ It was for that I sou ht you.”

“May I ask whom I rave the honor of ad-
dressing!” said Captain Brainard. politely,
struck with the appearance and manner of the
man before him. ,

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

“Ha! a confessed corsair! This is bold in
H

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

“ “dint motive have you in so doing, when
you know that we would hang you and your
crew to the yard-arm if we captured you!"

“It is catching before hanging, inonsieur;
but my motive was humanity."

“ Humanity in a Moorish corsair!" almost
sneer-ed Captain Brainard.

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

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

“ What shall we do, Arthur?"

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

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

“If I lead you into a trap, as you seem to
fear, it can only be against my own crew, which
you greatly outnumber, and you have arms and
are men.”

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

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

“ And your vessel lies inshore now?"

“ It does, sir.”

“And yon do not expect a pledge from me
not to attack you in the morning?"

The Moor smiled and answered:

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

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

In a voice that sent the men flying to their
posts the Moor gave the order to hoist the
anchors, and to set what sail was needed, and
calling the two oarsman from his boat along-
side to take the helm, he went forward and _
stood on the forecastle as the vesel swung'
round and headed landward under the stron
phressure of the breeze that was the precursor o

8 storm.

In a. voice distinctly audible to all on the
quarterdeck, but in the Moorish language, he

ve his orders to his men to rt and star-

d the helm, as the case mig t be, and the ;
splendid vessel soon swgpt in a narrow gorge be- ‘
tween overhan 'ng ch 5, just as the howling ,
hurricane struc the shore with a force that was ‘
terrific, and hurled volumes of water high upon
the rocks.

But the sails had been uickly taken in and
turled, the anchors let fal , and all put ship—
dupe to meet the wild rush of the elements, and
beneath the lee of the lofty cliff the stanch
vessel hardly swerved under the shock, and rode
in safety at anchor.

Quickl , as the Moor advanced, did Captain
Bramar step forward and grasp his hand.

“ I owe you the life of every man on board
In .vessel, sir, for we would have been swamp-

in an instant. I never beheld such a hurri-
cane.” ,

“ We were just in time, sir. In the morning,
Ryan wish to look up my vessel, do not allow
the service I have rendered you to prevent. I
Farewell, Captain Brainard,” and the mysteri-
g pilot spoke with a. strange sadness in his l

 

es.
“ Stay! You-must in some way let me return

noble servrces, air.”
“In no wagewhatever. Good-b , Lieutenant

Grenville.

ntlemen, good-nig t,” and the

, by the red glare of the

Moor again turned to depart, but Captaini

Brainard ste )ped forward.

“ One word, sir. You are not a Moor?"

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

A rapid row of half a dozcn cable—lengths and
the little boat, which was tosscd wildly about
upon the rough waters of the little basin. turned

into a narrow passageway, a gorge in the cliff, ‘

hardly thirty feet in width.

A dozen lengths of the boat they came to
what appeared to be a rocky wall; but the oars—
incn dropped their cars and the apparent wall
was easi

appearance at a short distance, even in day-
light. of being solid rock.

Just within this curtained i‘cccss lay the cor- ‘

sair vessel, her stern crowded with cannon that
commanded the entrance.
“ When the hurricane blows over I will put to

sea," said the Moor to one of his officers, as he .

stei )cd on the deck of his vessel.
“ ’cs, oh Rais,” replied the officer, with re-

spect, while his superior passed on into the
i

cabin.

There a scene of wondrous magnificence met ,
the eye, for the cabin was lighted by swrnging ,»

silver lamps, and around in profusion were lux—
urious ottomans and divans, while velvet rugs
covered the floor.

Paintings of the rarest kinds, jewelstnddcd .

weapons, and innumerable costly trinkets lined
the cabin walls, and upon the cabin table were
vases of gold and a tea-service of solid silver.

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

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

“'ith a groan of anguish, wrung from his in-
most heart, he sunk down upon a. silken divan
and buried his face in his hands.

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

_ared; then the voice of an officer aroused

1m.

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

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

Half an our after the watch on board the
American sloop-of-war startled all 011 deck with
the cry:

“ A phantom ship! a phantom ship!"

“Silence, you idiot! it is the Moorish corsair
standing out to sea.”

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

“ Hold! That craft goes free, for I shall give
no order to fire upon it 1”

The men shrunk back, and the Moor swept on
past the American, not two cable-lea ths dlS-
tent, and stood out into. the rough and ark wa-
ters beyond.

 

CHAPTER XI.
THE CORSAIR‘S carrrvn.

A SEA-CHASE at night! With the strong wind
sending the vessel nimny along, and the bright
flash of the stern guns of the pursued, followed
by the deep boom and whiz of shot, answered
bow-guns of the pnrsner,
their basso roar, and the crashing of timbers
and shrieks of anguish, as the iron messangers
tore through the wood and flesh.

Fast fled the ursued, faster came the pnrsuer,
until but 8. ha -mile divided them, and it was
evident that the roar of cannon must ere long
be followed by the rattle of small-arms and
clash of steel, when the boarders were called
upon to spring upon their prey.

The leading vessel was a large craft, a good
sailer, find possessing a fair armament and large
crew; nt upon her wake hung an ocean blood—
hound—a corsair, low in hull, sending clouds of
white canvas above her decks, gaunt, rapid,
merciless, and with a crew of fiends incarnate
once they tasted blood. .

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

Eager faces were upon the corsair, and hands
already red with blood, firml held their wea-
pons, hoping soon to drive t em home in the
mad conflict.

Nearer and nearer crept the hound of the sea
upon its prey, until the she. nose of the cor-
sair hnn over the stern o the other vessel,
which sti I held on its way.

Then the long bowsprit grated against the
taffrail of the flying craft, and into the dense
crowd formed to repel boarders the corsairs
hurled themselves, the two vessels were lashed
together, and the hand-to—hand fight had begun
in earnest.

 Braver did the amailed strike back at their

y raised. for it was only it canvas cur— i
tain hung between the clilfs. and presenting the :

assailants, and desperately did they struggle to
1 save their vessel, and scores fell upon both sides;
, but they fought a crew of devils in human shape
, that knew not defeat, and ere long the combat
. turned into butcherv, until the defeated crew
‘ fled in terror below decks.
i Then the bloodvdrunk crew dispersed to take
i possession of their dearly-won prize. and veils
of delight went up from hoarse throats. as the
cry arose that they had captured a Persian trca

sureship—nay, more, there was a Princess of
Persia on board, a. maiden of scvcntccn, beauti-
ful beyond a mortal's dream of beauty, who,
with her reiinue was en route to Constantinople,
where she was to become the bride of the sirl-
i tau‘s favorite son.

Her cotu‘ticrs, maidsin-waiting. slaves, with
princely presents of gold. silver and precious
stones, were all on board, and had fallen a prize
l to the cruel monster, Mcsnrah Rais, the Moorish
corsair.

Fi'cnzicd with delight at the wealth he had
i won, and intoxicated by the beauty of Zulah
the princcss. Mcsurah Rais dragged her from
the cabin, and reared her in his blood-stained
arms to bear her to his own vessel.

] In piteous cries the maiden appealed for aid
from those around her, and—if came !

A Moorish LfilCl‘I‘ suddenly confronted his
chief, a drawn cirnetcr in his hand.

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

, There was a ring in the words that was in-
' tensely in earnest, and a flash in the burning
eyes that knew no fear, and Mesurnh Rais
l halted suddenly, glanced around him amid a.
l silence like death, and then cried in trumpet
‘ tones:
l H Hurl that dog into the sea!”
1 But not a man moved to obey, and wild with
‘ fury, Mesurah Rais dropped the maiden from
i his arms, drew his blood-stained cimeter and.
, sprung upon the man before him with the cry
such as a wounded tiger might give.
i But his weapon was met with steel as true as
| his own, and instantly a desperate combat was
begun, Moors and Persians alike gathering
around and gazing upon the dread scene.

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

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

But, urge on by their gallant leader, the
weaker party won the deck, and the followers
of Mesurah Rais cried lustily to their comrades
for mercy. Launcelot vaille was victor .'

Crouched down by the bulwarks, surrounded
by a few of her followers, Zulah the princess
had been a horrified witness of the whole wild
scene; but what would be the result to her she
could not tell, for mi ht not the lieutenant have
slain his chief that 9 might himself gain the
prize?

Still, as Lanncelot Grenville approached her
she did not recoil from him, as she had done
from Mesurah Rais.

“Lady, your vessel is sinking, and I must re-
move you and your treasure to my decks: other-
wise you might go on your way, as I will not
War a ainst a woman.”

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

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

sair.

It was the intention of the self-ap inted Rais
to carry the princess in safety hire to her port
of departure again, and set sail for that pur-

ose; but severe storms blew the corsair far

rom her course, and it was weeks before an op-
portnnity offered of carrying out his intention,
and then an obstacle arose in the we that nei—
ther himself nor Zulah cared to set asrde, for his
interest in the beautiful girl had deepened into
love. while, from the moment she became his
captive, her heart went out to the handsome
Rais, and she idolized him with all the abandon
of her nature.

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

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

Quickly was his determination taken. The
old Persian priest should perform the ceremony
that would make anah his bride; her follow”
he would restore to their native land. and in

 

 

 

 

.......-V

“5:; ..

Freelance, the Buccaneer.

 

with his beautiful bride, he would seek a home
in the Amazerg hills with his friends, the moun—
tain prince and Maud. where he would endeavor
to forget the past and its bitter memories.
Mais, L’hommc propose, (it Dicu dispose.

 

CHAPTER XII.
TRACKEI) nv rum-1.

IN the same mountain home which the reader
has before visited, some months after the cap-
ture of the Persian vessel by Mcsnrah Rais. sat
three persons, all of whom have before figured
in the Sl'l‘IlL'S of this story.

Two of them Were females. one of them Maud
Mcnken that was, but now the Queen of the
Amazcrgs, as She was called, and the other was
Zulah, the princess, now the wife of Lauucelot
Grenville, who sat by her side, and upon whose
face a look of contentment seemed at last to
have fallen. _

True to his Word. Launcelot Grenvdlc had
sailed to J atlIa, the port of entry to Jerusalem,
and from thence sent the attendants of Zulah
by caravan back to Ispahan, Persia, the princess
writing a letter to her father, the shah, givmg
an account of her capture, and her present
happiness, and her husband sending to his
r0 ‘al father-in—law numerous costly presents
ta 'en from the pi‘iCclcss stores of Mcsurah Rois.

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

But two of Zulah’s attendants, a huge Abys-
sinian slave. almost a giant, and her old nurse,
refused to return to Persia, and both Launcclot
and his lovely wife willingly consented that
the should remain with them.

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

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

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

But a refusal to obey the summons would
have been open revolt, so E1 Rais Aboukah
went to Mequinez, thou 11 he took the precau—
tion to go attended by a t iousand of his horse-
men, under “1.5 pretense of doing honor to his
ruler.

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

He ted his wife aflectienately, and
Launce ct and his bride most ln'ndl , though all
noticed that he wore a troubled look.

After refreshments had been served, the
Amazerg chief said, quietly, addressing Launce-
lot-

“Rais, I regret to say there is trouble and
danger ahead for you, as the Sidi knows. of
your capture of the Persian vessel, and taking
the Princess Zulah for your own rize. ’

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

“ No, he is aware that you lauded. for if you
remember, Mesurah Rois, when sent _to take
command in my stead, brought 'Wltil him from
Mequinez some of the crew of his old ship, and
therefore all you had under you were not Ama-
zerg Moors.

“ These men of Mequinez deserted the vessel
it seems, the night she entered the port, an
made known to the Sidi, for they went to the
capital, all that you had done, and he sent for
me immediately.’ . ”

“ And you have orders concerning me?

“YES; the Sidi ordered that I send you at
once under guard to Mequinez, and your Wife ls
to‘accompany you_n
188;, your answer?”asked Launcelot, care-

“ . f course I told him that I would do 50: M?“
I must keep my word to the Sidi or there will
be war between us, and though Ican keep his
troops at be. in my mountains, I do not wlsh 3
stru le wit him. ’
“ ukah i”
It was Maud that he, and she looked re-
.roachfully at her husband, while Zulah became
3d Evitlhf‘ear.
s or uncelot, he smiled ‘ml , and said:
“ You know your duty best,%is.l’r
“ Yes, and I must does I am told, yet I see no
reason wh you should reach Mequinez, even if
you start orthere.”
“ Ah!” said LaunCelot, while both Maud and
Zulah gave a sigh of relief.
“ There is a. brig,” continued El Rais “ lyin
in my harbor, that was captured by ' esura
some time ago, and, as she is English built
and a stanch and fast little craft, the Sidi

 

 

 

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

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

“ This will be the only way I can save you,
for you would be beheaded, ltais, ten minutes
after your arrival in Mid nincz, and what
would become of the Princess Aulah, Allahouly
knows.”

“ 1t will be taking dcslwratc chances to at-
tempt to seize the brig from her crew,“ said
Launcelot.

“ No, for I will take care to send a. crew
formed from galley slaves, and a few men whom
you can trust and whom I will irstruct as to
their duties.

“\thn you are in possession of the brig, you
can land my men on the Coast, and then head
for any point you may wish to go, and if the
brig does not reach the harbor of the Sidi, and
his irisouers escape, it is not my fault.”

“lEl Rais, you are a noble man, and I thank

on.

“I had hoped to dwell near you for the rc‘
maindcr of my (lays, but there seems no rest for
me, and I shall have to seek another laud. So
be it!. \Vhen shall we start!"

“ As soon as the brig can be made ready. I
have already sent word to the Rais 0f the
stronghold tohavc it in readiness, for I deter-
mined upon that as the. only course to take to
save on, and though I hate to part with you, I
feel that it cannot bc otherwise ’

Until a. late hour in the night the four friends
talked over their paitin and plans for the fu-
ture, and after sunset 0?
started for the harbor of the stronghold, a
guard around the irisoners, for to carry out the
farce of obeying t e Sidi, El Rais Aboukah held
Launcelot and his wife as captives.

In the pleasant little cabin of the trim brig
sad farewells were spoken, and the fleet vessel
was soon fl ing seaward under command of a

'oung Bus L Soto Rois, a cousin of the Rais cl
is of the Amazer s.

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

Instantly a s iort struggle followed on the
deck; there were a few shots, clashing of steel,
shouts of the combatants, and the brig was in
the possession of Lauucelot Grenville, while the
young Soto Rais was a prisoner, yet, bciirr in
the plot, was not anxious regarding his fhte,
and those on] of the crew who could not be
trusted witht e secret, had fallen in the struggle
for mastery.

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

Upon a lonely part of the coast the Soto Rois
and all others of the crew, excepting the Euro-
peans, were put on shore, and t e brig headed
seaward, it being the intention of Launcelot to
return once more to Mexico, and offer his vessel
and services to that country.

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

To fly from the corsair, swift as was the brig,
would be useless, and to‘ fight him would be
madness, as Launcclot did not have more than
thirty men, all told, and but six small guns.

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

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

In the meantime, the corsair vessel was run-
ning down upon the brig with all sail set, and
within half an hour the fate of Launcelot Gren-
ville and his bride would be decided.

CHAPTER XIII.
IN THE JAWS or DEATH.

UNDER easy canvas the brig stood on her way
while the crew, lately released from a long and
cruel bondage among the Moors, were white
with dread, caring that they would be dragged
back to Morocco and put to death for their mu-

 

tin .
Pyncing the deck. Launcelct Grenville was
riectly calm,and his face showed no sign of
read at the ordeal he must soon pass through,

the following day they I

 

'11;

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

Nearer and nearer came the corsair until up
to the peaks of his latceu sails went the Moor—
ish ensign and black flag, while a gun Was fired
across the brig‘s bow.

Instantly Lanneelot had the flag of Morocco
run up to the peak, and the black flag with its
red ciiueter raised to the fore top, while he
brought his vessel to and quietly awaited fur- ‘
ther action on the part of t )0 Moor.

That the corsair was sur irisod at the colors
shown on the brig. was evident, as had he been
also, that the English-built craft made no cifoi't
to csca ie from him, or to change her course.

The flag at the fore he recognized as the fleet
ensign of the Rois cl Rails, and be according]
saluted and signified by signal that he would
Ccuio on board.

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

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

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

E1 Selik drank much, and ate with consideh
able gusto, still he seemed preoccupied, and at
last asked;

“\Vhere bound, lieutenant of the great R81!
e1 Rais!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I": was evident that E] Sclik suspected treacho
cry of some kind, and he looked Launceloi
straight in the 6 'es, but the look was fearlessly
returned, and t 9 favorite of the Sidi was in
more dan r than be imagined for his host had
suddenly etermined upon a plan should he not
be permitted to go on his way unmol .

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

Suddenly E] Selik gave a start—his eyes had
rested u on the beautiful face of Zulah, peering
anxious v into the cabin.

“ The Soto Rois has a fair captive; is she to
go to the harem of his mighty Sidi, whom Al~

ah bless?”

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

“The captive is a

 

_ rincess of Persia. She
was captured 1n the editerranean some time
ago b Mesurah Rais, my ca tain and the
Rois I Sellk, being a favoriteo his Sidi, whom
Allah reservo, I will tell him that I bear the
beauti 111 Lady Zulah to her home."

_ “ If thl Soto Rais was a MoorIwould be-
lieve his words, for the Shah of Persia would.
pay a great ransom for the return of his dough-
tcr: but I will have to carry this vessel back
ruthgne to Nequinez, and see K thy words are

rue.

Launcelot made no immediate rep] , and his
face did not clining color, or a muscle quiver,
as the Rais looted him searchingly in the face. .

“ After an instant’s‘pause Lancelot said:

“ 'fhe  will not 0 this, assuredly?”

“ wi .

“ It will anger the great chief, Rois elRais.”

“ So be it.”

“ Then upon yom head be it.”

“Upon my head be it.” .

Seem that E1 Selik was decided, Launcelot
looked own to grasp his pistol and make him
a prisoner, when his eye fell upon the Signet-
ring of the Rais cl Rais- ~the one he had given
him E9813 before, when chased by the Hornet
and nglish sloop-of-wai, and which he had
kept throu 11 his years of slavery to an Arab
master, hi 'ng it among his rags.

Now the diamond’s glittei caught his e e,
and drawing it from his finger he said, calm y,
as he handed it to Ei Selik:

“Would I be intrusted with this were that.
true Moor i”

 

 
   

,,-

12

Freelance, the Buccaneer.

 

El Selik glanced at the ring, road the inscrip-
tion, and handed it back, saying, in a tone of

respect:
‘ I honor the pledge of the Red Rais. The
we 3 of Allah are strange indeed.”

he dark, somber eyes of Launcelot Grenville
flashed, yet he spoke not a word and El Selik
arose to go, now fully convinced that he had
made a grave mistake in suspecting the Soto
Rais of treachery.

As the two left the cabin one of those incon-
¢., ‘ uities of human nature, a man who would sell
 Es soul and his kindred for gold, a dark-skinned

‘ Spaniard, said a few words to El Selik in a low

 

tone.
Instant] the Rais turned upon Launcelot;
but he ha also heard the wordsof the treacher-

Dus seamen, and his pistol-muzzle touched the
heart of El Selik.

“Not one word, Moor, and return into the
cabin, or I will kill you, by Alah!”

The Moor saw his dan er, and, a dear lover of
life, he slunk back into t ie cabin, while Launce-
lot callin to an officer to secure the traitor,
followed 0 ose upon the prisoner’s heels.

“That man’s words have betrayed me; but
. Rais, if you value your life you will do what I
. ' say,” and the voice of Launcelot Grenville was
deep and stern, and the pistol pointed directly
at the head of El Selik, who had turned a livid

ue.
“ Dotr of a Christian, you shall suffer for this,”

« growle the Moor, savagely. '

{2 “You are in no condition to make threats,
- ' Rais El Selik, and I am the one to dictate terms.
 “ From here to the Azore Islands is just ten

leagues, and I will stand on and land you there

' .at fit. Michael’s, where 'ou can order your ves-

' sel to come on the day a ter to-morrow, for you

an easily run out to meet her in a fisherman’s
at

., “Beard of m grandfather! would you spit
' on me?” elled l elik.

 “I wil kill you if you do not do as I wish.
7'. Hold! raise your voice above an ordinary tone,
3‘ and I will shoot you through the heart.”

“I will call my Moors to come to my aid,”
_‘ ' bpldlty said El Selik, but he kept his eye on the
' sto

2' “They will find you a dead man, and before
4 I would go back to Morocco as a prisoner, I
would blow this brig and all in it to atoms.
tell you, Rais, you are standing on a. magazine,
“ so send word to your Bash Soto Rais that you
"1;: are going in this vessel to the Azores and to
coma, tuere for on.”

“ H:- will believe there is treacher ,” said El-
 Sclil; mum to yield to the demun of his cap-
tor i he cou d thereby save his life.

“Send the ring you wear. I will summon
one of your boat’s crew to you here; but he
shall die, and you, too. if Iyou give a hint that

you are a prisoner. Quic I what is your de
cision?”
“By Allahl I have to obey,” meekly said the
cor. .
“ Zulahl”

fit being called the young wife entered the
ea in.
’ “Semi your Abyssinian slave, and two men
to me here. ”
Zulah left the cabin, and in a moment there-
after the giant negro and two seamen entered.
“Men, take fyour stands just behind yonder
curtain, and i I give you a signal, kill this

an.
“A , ag', sir,” said the men, one of whom

Was Show and the other Irish.

Turning to the slavo, Launcelot said:
“ Go to the boat alongside and bid the officer
' in charge to come to the cabin; the Rais would
With him; and mind on, slave, stand be-
hind the one you lead hit_ or, and if the Rais
lipakrizs 1 any sign to him, drive youraknife to his

ea .

, The slave bent low in respectful salutation

and left the cabin, while the two seamen, armed

with pistols, took their stand behind a curtain
. that divided off a. state room from the cabin.

"Pais El Selik, you see I am master here.
Simpl ive your orders to your officer, to meet
you 0 t. Michael’s the second night from this."
-- The Rais gritted his teeth savagely, but
though a monster to those in his power, 6 was
In'arrant coward at heart, and, though swear-
ing vengeance ainst Launcelot Grenville, felt
his inability to t on do other than obey.

The next moment a heavy step was heard,
and the Abyssinian entered with a handsome
. yciung Moor, an under officer of the corsair ves-

80 .
He saluted his Rais politely and then Launce—
, at, at ter which he stood in sifence awaiting for

'- his commander to s ak.
It was a momen of intense ril to all on
board the brig; but Launcelot renville’s face
.was perfectly serene yet there was an expres-
lion it held, which El Selik understood, and he
laid hoarsely: .

. “ eldak, tell my Pash Soto Rois to come to
fix Rais hesitated, and the young Moor looked

- .- d: but catchin the eye of Launcelot

die El Selik con nued: '

’ St. Michael’s the night

 

 
  
    
  
  
   
   
          
     
       
     
       
     
   
    
        
       
   
 
 
  
 
   

  
  

:—

     

  

  

  

G
S
5-;
if
s

  
 
  
   

The ofiicer bowed and started to retire, when
Launcelot Grenville, in a rfectl composed
manner, filled a silver gob et wit Wine and
handed it to him, and wished him pleasantly
much joy in life.

Unconscious of the danger he was in the
young Moor left the cabin and El Selik was
alone with his ca tor, who coolly invited him to
come on deck wit him.

There was nothing for the Rais but to obey
and he witnessed the brig get under way and
head for the Azores, while his Own vessel stood
off on another tack, as it was not to be at the
appointed rendezvous for nearly forty-eight
hours.

Although he had most cleverly escaped a cap-
ture, which would have resulted in certain
death, Launcelot Grenville was determined to
make an example of the seamen who hadproven
traitor, believing that he could thereby win a
name and gold for himself among the Moors,
who had held him in slavery for long years.

As soon as a few leagues separated the brig
from the corsair vessel, Launcelot Grenville had
the prisoner brought before him, ordered an

execution rd of six men, and the wretch was
corfipelled suffer the fate that his companions
wo d have met, had his treachery been success-

ful.

With a perfect contempt’for his cruel prison-
er, and a yearning to rid the sea of such a mon-
ster, Launcelot Grenville found it hard to resist
visitin upon El Selik the same fate meted out
to the 'raitor Spaniard: but he had given his
word to release him at the Azores, and shortly
after darkness settled upon the sea, the brig ran
in and landed the Rais on the coast, a league
from the town, and then once more stood out in-
to blue waters to dare danger and destiny.

CHAPTER XIV.
THE TREASURE ISLE.

IT was a fearful ni'ht of storm, and the
waves of the Mexican ulf ran mountain-high,
and the waters were lashed into foam until they
looked like billows of snow.

The clouds trailed low, and were inky-black,
and on] the phostphorescent glare of the sea
gave lig t enough or the human eye to discern
a vessel struggling for life in that mad scene.

For days the storm had revailed, for it was
the equinoctial gale, and t e bearings were at
fault, and none on board the little craft knew
exactly how far from the land they were, and
the commander had just given orders to lay the
vessel to, when it was raised upon a mighty
wave, and hurled with terrific force upon a
rocky reef.

Instantly the wildest confusion followed the
crash, and the trigs tened seamen be an to cut
away the life—boa , for they dreade that the
vessel would g? to pieces and they be ingulfed
with the wrec .

In vain did their commander ur e them
against the course they were taking, or wild
with fear, they would obey no command; the
boats were filled with the panic-stricken crew,
and a hu e wave sweeping the decks, they were
carried 0 on its bosom—to death.

To death, yes, for there were breakers to the
lee of the rocks upon which the vessel lay, and
the two boats, crowded with human freight,
were dashed to pieces in the twinkling of an
e e; the shrieks of the drowning men arose
a ove the howling of the wind, and roar of the
sea, and were heard by the few who yet re—
mained upon the fated craft.

And upon that vessel what a scenel Driven
high upon the rocks, the masts had come crash-

against the hull with a force that threatened to
tear it into atoms with each coming watery
avalanche.

Upon the deck, crouching down behind the
stum of the mainmast, was a huge form, which
a fias of lightning showed to be a negro, calm,
courageous, and 1yet clinging for his life—the
only person visib e upon the wreck.

From the cabin a faint light streamed, and
within were three human beings, nay, four, for
one lay there dead.

Over that dead form a man bent in the bitter
agony of grief, and his e es looked down upon
the beautiful, upturned ace, that gave back no
glance of love.

In a corner of the cabin, crouching down
among a. pile of cushions, sat an elderly woman,
hugging to her breast a little bundle that con-
tained a wee infant—a baby boy that had been
ushered into the world amid that scene of wreck
and death, and whose mother had given to him
her life.

It was a sad, a pitiable scene, and the strong
man who bent over his dead wife cared not
how soon it would end in death for him and in
his heart he curscd the stench hull that still
withstood the shocks of the waves.

And thus, through the long hours of that
fearful night, the group in the cabin remained
unchan e , and the giant negro on deck clung
to the s attered mast. ,

But the ion est, dreariest ni ht has an end—
ing;»at last t e gray dawn {0 upon the sea:
the winds died away, and the waves ran less

 

  
  

in h. ,,
‘ 5min marking sun the

i

  

ing down when she struck, and the seas beat -

 

ensign-1m inpn, '-
;l: ,l .. ,

J

came upon deck, and in his haggard, white, son
row-lined face it was hard to recognize the
handsome Launcelot Grenville.

Yet it was none other than that waif of mie-
fortune whom Fate dogged so cruelly.

With a sweeping glance he took in the scene
——the hull, stil stanch, high on a reef, and half
a mile distant from a. small island, nearly bar-
ron_of verdure.

No other land was in sight, and desolation
was upon all around, and the prospect looked
dreary indeed.

But Launcelot Grenville was no man to yield
to despair when there were other lives de-
pendent upon him, and he quickly looked
around for means of succor.

Forward, swept into the forecastle, the brig’s
cutter still remained, and fortunately was not
damaged, and below decks there were spars,
sails and ears and the island, Launcelot knew,
was near the exican coast.

Had he been alone it is doubtful if he would
have made an effort to save himself; but there
was a young life in the cabin that he must live
for, now that the mother had one; the faithful
nurse and Abyssinian slave ad served their
mistress well; it was his dut to aid them in
their danger and distress. e at once set to
work, and with the assistance of the huge black,
soon had the cutter rigged, and bringing the
dead form from the cabin, he placed it in the
boat and steered for the shore.

In a group of stunted trees a sheltered nook
a grave was du and the body of Zulah placed
therein, Launce ot Grenville fillin the grave
with a hard stern look upon his face that
showed how he was burying from sight more
than his life.

_ Having attended to this sad duty, the sorrow.
ing man, still accompanied by the faithful slave,
explored the island, and in the interior, among
a heap of rocks, found a lar e cave, and here
the vast treasure on board the rig was brought
and also the stores, and securely hidden, an
left under the charge of the Abyssinian, who
readily accepted the task imposed upon him.

Then Launcelot Grenville returned on board
the wreck, and taking the nurse and tin infant
into his boat, set sail from the island, eadin
toward the nearest point of the mainland
Mexico, where he knew he could find a settle-
men .

A night’s sail and the little cutter put into a
small coast town, and the nurse and infant were
at once well cared for, while Launcelot Gren-
ville, restless, wretched, and seekin stirring
action to drown his sorrows, de arte for Vera
Cruz, and from thence to the ity of Mexico,
where he reported to the Government the loss
of 1118 schooner, b being run down in the Gulf
by the Reindeer, our years before, and his es~
cape, capture by the Moors, and long captivity
as a slave to an Arab sheik.

His final escape from Morocco and return to
Mexico he also made known, but his more per-
sonal affairs—his having been a corsair, mar-
riage, and the loss of the brig, he did not make
known.

The magnates of the Government were de-
lighted to welcome him back, for he had been a
gallant oflicer in their service, and having no
vessel then to give him the made him the
commander of a regiment of gamers.

Butas a colonel in the army, Launcelot Gren-
ville found not the field for excitement the sea
presented, and he begged to be allowed to com-
mand a privateer once more; so he was placed
on boar a slow-going, lubberly brigantine
poorly armed, yet with a glood crew, and to]

0 capture a better vessel if e wanted one.

“ I will,” was his grim repl to the Mexican
Junta, and he put to sea, and his order to his
helmsman proved that he would keep his word,
for he said sternl :

“Stand for Barrataria—the rendezvous of the
Gulf buccaneers.”

CHAPTER XV.
THE BITER BITTEN.

“ Sun ho I”

From the mast-head of a slow-sailing brigan-
tine the cry rung out, and an officer pacing to
and fro lanced uickly around the horizon, and
soon sett ed his g ass upon a sail just visible to a
keen e e. ‘

Wit a strong wind blowing it was not long
before the raising topsails of a schooner arose in
view, followed soon after by a huge fore and
mainsail, hovering over a long hull, low in the
water, and showing unmistakable signs of being
an armed deck.

“Senor Miguel, if I am not mistaken, yonder
vessel Will revent our running on to Burn.-

‘ taria,” and aptain Launcelot Grenville, in the

full uniform of a Mexican naval commander,
turned to his first lieutenant, a handsome, dash
ing flow-1g fellow.

, ‘ . e is heavier than we are, and doubtlea
carries more men, and it would be as well torun
for it,” said Alvez Miguel, regarding the vessel
attentively. ‘ ‘

“ You misunderstand me, senor; we will cap- "y

ture her, and thereby save a. run to the my
'caneer rendezvous,” said Captain

  
  

  
 

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turned his glass upon the schooner, and said, af-
ter. awhile:

“ My captain
to our one an
the brigantine’s crew;
fight him.”

“I think not; that he is a buccaneer I feel
convinced, and perhaps Lafitte’s own vessel. If
8’! I will be glad; but if not the pirate chief’s
own craft, it is one of his fleet, and a beauty.
Let the brigantine tall 011’, helmsman. Steady!

,, New, Senor Miguel, set all the sail she can
! carry.”

The brigantine’s change of course placed the
schooner astern, and the lieutenant said pleas-
antl :

“'Iou have determined to run for it, then,
Ca ain Grenville?”

i ‘ es.” _

“ And the schooner is squaring away to give
chase, and if her looks do not belie her, can sail
three feet to our one.” _ _

“ So much the better; we have a fair Wind, it
good start, and we will try the schooner at all
her sailing oints. Set the American ‘colors,
Senor Migue , and then have the crew hide our
guns under ta aulins.” .

The youn ex1can seemed surprised at the
mannerof his.commander, but promptly obeyed
his orders, and seven of the nine uns carried
by the bri antine were soon concea ed by slant-
ing t 1! 'ns tacked from the bulwark rail to
the dec .

“ Now send all but twenty of the men below,
Senor Mi uel.”

This or er was also at once obeyed, and the
brigantine, with only two guns visible, and a

l, few men, presented the appearance of a mer-
, chant craft, carrying a couple of cannon, and a
) crew of fair size, for rotection, for in those
I days vessels went arm against the buccaneers
l that roved the Gulf and its shores. ‘ '

5 “Now, Senor Miguel, we will disguise our-
} selves,”said Captain Grenville, and entering the
l

yonder craft carries two guns
as fully double the number of
it would be madness to

cabin he soon returned with a citizen’s coat over
his uniform—Alvez Miguel and the other officers
following his example. , _ _

“ If that is a buccaneer, and 1' believe he is.
our disguise will not aid us for those fel-

senor
’ to deck,” said the

lows search a vessel from keel
r lieu'enant.

Captain Grenville made no reply, but turned
his gaze u n the schooner, which was coming
on before he wind, her huge sails thrown Wing-
and-wing, and running at a tremendous 'spee ,
which threatened‘to overhaul the brigantine be-
fore nightfall. .

“She sails like a witch before the Wind.

We’ll tr her with the breeze over her stern-

uarter, ’ said Captain Grenville, and he gave
t e order to chan e the brigantine’s course,
which was at once one.

For half an hour the brigantine held on, run-
ning at her best pace, but the schooner seemed
to gain even more rapidly, and the 'Mexwan
crew knew that escape was impossible, for,
though night was coming on, it would be bright
starlight, and there would be no_hope of eluding
the keen eyes of those on their path, even in
darkness. I

As the schooner drew nearer it could be seen
that she carried a crew of fully a hundred men,
and that she was a buccaneer was eVident as
the red caps of the crew were Visible above the
bulwarks. _

“She has six guns to a broadSide, and three
pivots, senor,” said Lieutenant Miguel, closely
examining the schooner.

“Yes, he is well armed and manned. I am

lad night will come before he ets near enough
examine us more closely. 9.! there goes his
33 —Carthagenianl” and as Captain Grenvdle
sptfire the colors of Carthagena were unfurled,
‘70 be immediately lowered and another flag
sent up in their place, which, when shaken out,
displayed a blue field, in the center of which
Was a air of red crossed swords. .

As t e flag fluttered out in the Wind a puff of
§moke burst from the schooner’s bows, and an
gal maesenger came flying after the brigan-

no.

“It is one of Lafltte’s fleet,” said Launcelot
Grenvmey without any trace of dreadat the dis-
°°V°TYy and he descended into his cabin.

I I In half an hour he returned to the deck, and
a Change had come, for darkness had now set-
tlefi “Rio: the sea; the schooner was not half a
“me “my and had kept up a slow, but
steady fire at the brigantine, cutting away .the
mam'topmm’ Piercing the bulwarks and laying
seng of the crew dead and dying upon the

doc

Still the brigantine had held on, though why
its commander kept up a fight that was useless
Alvez Miguel could not understand.

As Captain Grenville reached the deck an-
other shot buried itself in the mainmast, show-
ing that the aim of the buccaneer was improv-
ing notwithstanding the darkness. ,

‘ That is a hint we had better follow. Bring
the vessel to, Senor Miguel,” said Captain Gren-
Ville,  a sangV'ro' that his crew were far

, g. .
brigantine accordingl swept around un-
.'-’ ‘I'v , tothewin rcckin upont
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her, a cable’s length distant, her men at the
guns, and looking threatening indeed.

Sweeping up into the wind, after having got-
ten wel astern, the buccaneer began to beat up
to the brigantine under shortene sail, and soon
ran alongside and cast out the grapuels, while
scores 0 ferocious-looking men prepared to
spring on board.

But, suddenly, from the broadside of the
brigantine burst a sheet of livid flame, and the
guns, charged heavily with small shot, tore
through the crowded ranks of the buccaneers,
while, with a loud cry to his men to follow him,
Launcelot Grenville, now in full uniform,
sprung upon the deck of the schooner.

Instantly at his back came Alvez Miguel and
half a hundred Mexicans, and so great was the
surprise of the pirates, and so deadly had been
the broadside from the brigantine at arm’s
length, that the were driven in confusion back-
ward, and fol owing up the advantage thus
gained the crew of the cruiser threw themselves
forward with irresistible force, led on by their
fearless leader, and in a very few minutes voices
arose in cries for mercy, and the schooner was
won- Launcclot Grenville had kept his word
and en tured a s loiidid vessel, above which to
hoist tie flag 0 Mexico, and the buccaneers,
who had expected to meet only an armed mer-
chantman, had found that the biter was bitten.

CHAPTER XVI.
A DARING RUSE.

IT was a bright, starlit night, and yet the sil-
ver-bes angled heavens failed to brighten u
the dar pile of stone that formed the prom
fortress of Mexico, known as the Castle San
Juan de Uloa.

Through its cmbrasures here and there glim-
mered a faint light that proved life was within;
but, otherwise, it rose above the watt-rs black,
gloomy and threatenin —a huge, “in sentinel
that had stood guard or generations over the
cit‘gr of Vera Cruz.

lowly toward this massive fortress a vessel
was headin , its destination evidentlly being the
port he on , where the lights twink ed brightly
in win ows and upon vessels at anchor.

Suddenly from the dark hull of the approach-
ing vessel burst jets of flame and the deep
boom of cannon followed; but there was no
roar of shot, no iron messengers hurled against
the fortress; the cruiser was only saluting the
“Iron Gate to Mexico,” and stood on her way
up to the city, the castle replying to the salute
in deep tones from her brazen throats, as though
with angry growl at being disturbed from its
repose. ‘

As the flush of her dogs of war lighted up the
vessel it showed a most rakish-lookin schooner,
trim asa yacht in build, and et t reatening
and vicious in appearance, for s e was heavily
armed, and, from the number of men upon her
decks, possessed a large crew.

Every rope was in lace; the crew went about
their duties silent an with promptness; and it
was evident that the one in command was a
strict disciplinarian and a thorough seamen.

Upon the quarter-deck, leaning a ainst the
high bulwarks, his arms folded upon is broad
breast, and a cigar between his teeth, stood that
commander—Launcelot Grenville, his dark face
more stern than ever, and his somber eyes
gazing upon the lights of the distant city.

After a most successful cruise, in the schooner
he had so allantly captured, he was returning
to Vera ‘ruz into which port he had Sent
several Spanis prizes taken in West Indian
waters and there was a calm joy at his heart
in the hope that he would soon see his bub boy,
to whom he clung with a love as dee as t at he
had felt for the lost Zulah, who s opt in her
grave upon the treasure island.

Gliding swiftly up the harbor the beautiful
schooner dropped anchor, and a boat was called
aWay for her commander to go on shore, when
a Government barge ran alongside.

It contained eight oarsmen, a dozen marines
and an oflicer, the latter, followed by the
soldiers, at once springing on board.

“I would see Captain Grenville,” said the
officer.

“I am Launcelot Grenville, senor: what is
your will with me?” and Launcelot stepped for-
ward and saluted the oflicial.

“ You are aware that the Government of
Mexico has changed in the past few months,
senor?”

“I was not aware of anything of the kind,
senor,” calmly replied Launcelot, though he felt
that there was trouble brewin fo him.

“It is a fact though; the overnment was
overthrown three months ago, and the Revolu-
tionists now are in power, Captain Grenville.”

“ And the prizes which I, have sent in, senor?”

“ Were taken b the party now in ower, and
which I may ad , is more powerfu than the
other; of course you Will side with the Revolu-
tionists, senor?” and the officer gazed fixedly
into the face of the schooner’s commander.

“To be executed as a traitor when the le 'ti-
mate Government gets back in power! fiéo
senor, I owe ray-allegiance to those who placed

commission in in hands, and to that junta

. “The present one will hold

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dassoon as I am
.fiwtln ‘ ‘ , ‘

  
  

 
   
   
  
  
   
  
  
 
   
    
     
   
   
  
  
  
     
   
  
  
    
 
 
   
   
  
   
    
   
  
   
    
   
   
    
  
  
 
  
  
   
  
   
 
  
  
   
  
 
   
    
 
    
    
   
  
  
   
     
       
    
      

senor, and I advise you to yield gracefully, for
the fate you hint of as a traitor to the old party,
ma be meted out to you by the new. "

‘ Senor, I am not to be intimidated by possi-
bilities; I left this port nearly a year a in a
miserable craft, but with a good crew; cap-
tured this schooner, one of the fleetest and beat
afloat; have taken a number of valuable prizes
and sent them hither, and now I return to be
thrown about like a shuttlecock. What guar-
antee have I that when I return from another
cruise I ma not find the oldearty in power?
None! 1 wi remain true to the ovei-nment that
I have faithfully served.”

“ I regret your decision, senor for—”

" I 63m listening," said Launcelot as the other

us .

“ I have orders to seize your vessel and place
you in irons.”

Captaln Grenville smiled, and glanced over
the small force brou rht by the Mexican.

“ Senor, you shou d have come better pre-
pared to carry out such an intention—I have
seventy-five men on heard here, and seventy of
them, 1 may add, tire buccaneers whom I per-
suaded to step from under the black fin to the
protection of the Mexican colors, and hey are
not to be trifled with; but I wish no trouble if
it can be avoided, and I beg that you givi me
time to think the matter over. ”

“ Were it ,ossible for a vessel to put to sea
past the cast e, I would believe you intended to
do so; but knowing that you would be sunk in
ten minutes, I will give you an hour to consider.
Remember, too, that you and your officers hold
the same rank under the present Government
that you did before, and that your share of the
prizes are not forfeited. "

“You will return then within the hour?”

“ Yes, senor," and the Mexican departed, but
instead of rowing ashore he headed for the for
tress of San Juan de Uloa, and arrivin in hail-
ing distance, called out to the sentinel t at chalcu
lcnged the boat:

“ A vessel may attempt to put to sea tonight.
If so, sink it!”

“Si, senor!” cried an officer, in response, who
seemed to recognize the voice of the speaker, as
the chief of the harbor guard.

Hardly had the boat rowed away from the
schooner, when Launcelot Grenville said:

“ Senor Miguel, yonder lie the halt-doom -
prizes we sent iii—jump into the cutter and visit
each one, bringing back our prize crews with
you, and be in a hurry, or that officer will re-
turn and catch you.”

“ Si, senor capitan,” and the young lieuten.
mit sprung into the schooner’s cutter, and in half
an hour returned With nearly two-score men
collected from the half-dozon prizes anchored
near, and which Launcelot Grenville had sent
into port under petty officers and a few men as . .
a prize crew. ‘

“ Men, it is my intention to go out to sea, to-
night: do you fear to follow me?" asked Cap-
tain Grenville, as the men gathered around him
for they knew that he was planning some bold
maneuver.

To a man, they gave a low assent, for they had
become deeply attached to their brave, yet stern
commander.

Glancing over the crew, searchingly, Launoo-
lot continued:

“I wish a score of men for a service of the
deadliest danger—who will volunteer?"

Seeing that all were willing and anxious, be
selected the requisite number from those nearest
to him and said, calmly:

“Take the cutter and go on board of the
barque, and get all in readiness to sail at a. mo-
ment’s notice.”

In silence, though wondering, the men obeyed,-
and a few moments after the government bar
ran alongside the schooner, and the ofllceragag
spruag on board.

“ ell, senor, I am here for our answer?" .

“ You shall have it. Senor iguel, get up “it
anchor and set sail on the schooner.”

f‘ Mach-e de Dias! what is your intention?”
cried the alarmed officer.

“ To put to sea, senor, and if you and your
men do not Wish to accompany me, you had
better return to your boat,” was the reply.

“I command on, senor, to wonder this
vessel to me!” ye led the oflicer, in a rage. ‘ ‘

“ And I dechne to obey your command. Will ‘-
you leave in schooner, senor, or shall I order
my men tot irow you overboard?”

he McXican glanced over the crew stand! \ .
around, and then upon his shrinking marliner ‘-
and came to the conclusion that discretion wet
the better part of valor, so said, hoarsely:

“You shall hang for this, for you can novel
pass the castle. lnto the boat men I”

. The marines obe ed with alucrit , and (met
in the barge, the c cer gave an or er in a lo
tone, and away it sped down toward the m.

As soon as it had left the side, Iauheolot
Grenville said: _. p <

“ Senor Miguel, you understood my orders
perfectly?” - > ' ..

“Yes, my ca tain.”

“ Then I shal at once

  
      
    
  
        
  

 
 
 

    
   
   
  
  
 

     
 

go on board the ~‘
un ,er way, you

,.

  
    

    

 

 14.

Freelance, the Buccaneer.

 

   

 

Mexican r. lied, Launcelot Grenville sprung
over the si e into a waiting boat, and rowed
rapidly towm'd the large and graceful barque
that lay two cable-lengths away.

Alvcz Miguel watched the swiftly-rowing
boat, saw it reach the bnrquc, and immediately
after the sails were spread, the bows swung
round, and the beautiful vessel under a cloud of
i, canvas headed for the open sea.

“ Now, lads, lively and We’ll give chase! man
those bow guns there, and fire when I give the
wordl” cried the youngr lieutenant, and like

 

lg, hu 0 wings the sails arose above the schooner’s
" " dec {, and a moment after it forged through the
*4, water at a rapid late, for a nine-knot breeze

’ i' V was blowing.

Instantly all was excitement in the harbor
and along the shores; lights flashed on the decks
of the numerous vessels at tun-her, the guard
boats sent up rockets and the bells of Vera
Cruz nuw out in wild alnrn while the deep
boom of the sinnal guns added ieir rear to the
confusion, and catching the contagion of up-

 , roar, the old castle of De Uloa, the guardian for-
 tress of the city, was now illuminated and on
fill the watch.

,' In the meantime the two vessels, the barqne
‘2n leading by a quarter of a mile, were rushing
4 - down the harbor at race-horse speed, heading
 directly for the open sea, which could only be
 gained by passing under the fearful gantlct of

u, the guns of the Castle San Juan de Uloa, the
‘ ' parapets of which now were crowded with sel—
diers, as seen by the blue lights sent up.

As the barque overhauled the gunrd~boat,
which had boarded the schooner, the officer
recklessl attempted to throw himself and men
on boar ; but the tall form at the vessel’s helm
suddenly brought the bows up, a. crash follow-
ed, and shivered into atoms the barge; its crew
Were left struggling in the white wake of the

 

» flying vessel, while the other harbor cutters gave
2",? the fugitive craft a wide berth.
,2,” As the bar ue glided free of the drowning

men, a. brigh flash suddenly burst from the
bows of the privateer schooner, and a solid shot
came whirring above the heads of Launcelot
Grenville and his crew, every man of whom
full realized now the reckless, desperate plan
of t air during commander to get to sea.

But like the ver wind the barque flew on
lying well over un er the pressure of the win
upon her clouds of canvas, and going at a
twelve~knot pace, while the bow guns of the
schooner rushing on in pursuit, sent shot after
shot over and around their companions‘ heads.

But suddenly there came a crash as though
the very cart was rent in twain, a blinding
lore, and the roar of a hundred iron balls as
e rushed shrieking through the air—the cas-
tle d opened upon the escaping vessel.
’Through the white canvas, over the decks,
cutting great gaps in the bulwarks, and sending
showers of splinters u on every hand, the iron
tornado passed over 1: e barque, and left a fear-
ful scene behind, for half a dozen men were
slain, and others wounded.

But at the helm stood the grim commander,
unhurt, calm as a statue, a. cigar between his
lips, and his eyes lancing over the damage
done by the terrific e from the castle.

“Not vitally hurt; new for a scattering fire,
he said, calmly and his men, inspired by his ex-
am is, sp back to their posts of du y.

hen. ming ing with the rattle of the schoon-
er’s gum, was the deep basso of the cannon from
the castle, and the speed of the barque alone
kept the aim from proving fatal, for, as it was,
the was struck time an again, her topmasts
carried away, and half of her crew lay dead or
, dying upon er decks.

Su denly another volley of giant guns from
the castle, and the bowsprit was carried away,
and the mizzen~mast went topplin over; but
fortunately for the daring man w 0 yet held

' , the helm of the shot-torn barque, he had passed
’f “' the castle, and having gained an ofiin , squared
right away before the wind, althoug it gave
fortress an opportunity to rakehim fore and

‘ ‘ Instantly the guns were brought to bear on
the brig, and so terrible did the fire become,
even at that long distance, that the men shrunk
from duty and, as the foremost went down,
i they rushed below with cries of horror, leaving
their leader still at the helm, bleeding from
Several wounds, but calm and determined. .
I , But in vain did he attempt to hold the barque
_, x on her course, for with the rig 'ng and s rs
" ’ dragging alongside, no one to oIie his or, ers,
v and on! the mammast standing, t c noble ves-
lnlcoul do no more, and lay a sinking wreck
n the waters, while the yell that burst from
it e soldiers at the castle came distinctly to the
‘ ' can of Launcelot Grenville.
* And the schooner, what of it? Not five cable
lengths away it came on like the wind, and luff-
!ng‘ up, was skillfully brought alongside of the

    
  
   
   
  
  
   
   
  
    
       
 
   
   
     
      
  
   
  
  
      
      
  
   
     
 
  

   
 

      

    
   
 
  
    
    

      
    

    

  
 

 

   
  

 
  

  
   
  
  

     
 
  

 
 
   
     
   
  
 
       
   

red vessel.
~ - Captain .Grenv-lllel Praise to the Virgin
"another that you are alive! but what a ve hell
' ' "thasbeenl Areallthecrewde 17’
Senorifiggal, those alight-e not dent:
pupal] emnp‘an tuskeqp, .9

       
   

 

magnwhilc a. dozen forms sprung upon the.

 

castle, as soon as the guard—boats arrive there
with the crew I ran down,” said Launcelot
Grenville, and he was supported by two of his
men to the deck of the schooner, while those of
the barquc’s crew who had gone below, and the
wounded, were quickly transferred to the priva~
tecr.

“Now set the barque afire. Miguel, and let
us stand out to sea, as though just getting out
of the way of the burning wreck; you kept up
that chase bravely, and the schooner was not
suspected, so we have a splendid craft beneath
our feet, Cast loose there!” and as Captain
Grenville gave the last order, the schooner
swung clear from the wreck, from which the
flames new burst in fury.

The castle, leaving the affair to the schooner,
for the during ruse was not yet known, had
ceased firing, and then the men had left their
guns, cxpectin g the privateer to bring the burque
back into port; but, us the little craft, under all
the canvas that would draw, after tacking once
or twice, suddenly stood seaward, leaving the
burning wreck astern, the officers of the fortress
could not understand the strange maneuver.

“ There is doubtless a. strange sail in sight,”
said the Governor-General of the castle, ‘ and
he has gone in pursuit; but what does the oflicer
in that ruard-boat say, Rcdrez?”

A hai from a ard-boat had attracted the
attention of the overnor-Gcneral of the fort-
ress.

“Ayl ay! senor, what is it?” called out Colo-
nel Redrez, the aide-dc—camp. '

“Senor, you fired upon the wrong craft; the
schooner sent the barque ahead and gave chase,
as a ruse to escape to sea unhurt, and, malcdito!
he ran me down and drowned half of my men.
Fire upon the schooner, Senor Governor!”

It was the eflZcer of the wrecked uard~boat
that spoke, and who had been picks up by an-
other barge with those of his crew who had not
been killed or drowned by the barquc running
them down.

Instantly the guns of the castle were manned
once more, and turned upon the schooner, go-
ing seaward with the speed of a bird; but the
distance was too great now, and the privateer
escaped out of range, and disappeared in the
darkness.

“ There is the only hope of capture now,”
said the Governor, ointing to an armed cutter
and a brigantine-ofzwar coming down the har-
bor, and pushing on in rapid chase of the
schooner, now two leagues away.

 

CHAPTER XVII.
PLAYING WITH FIRE.

AllTER his desperate, et successful flight from
Véra Cruz, Launcelot renville gained a good
offing, and then headed down the coast.

What would be his future course he knew not
for, in making his escape, he had but followed
the promptings of a determination not to serve
the Revolutionists, who had overthrown the
Government to which he owed allegiance.

Resolved not to submit, he had taken a despe—
rate measure to get out to sea with his vessel,
yet not knowing what he would do after he did

so.

Althou h wounded several times in running
the gant at of the castlc’s guns, he was not
much hurt, and after the surgeon had dressed
his wounds he called his officers into the cabin,
and told them that he intended to visit Vera
Cruz in disguise and held communication with
the de se Junta ere he came to any decision
re ar ‘ g his actions for the future.

thou h it would be attended with the great-
est risk, uncelot Grenville could not be de-
terred from goingto Vera Cruz, and the schoon-
cr was at once put away for the mouth of the
Alvarado river in the vicinity of which her
commander knew there were lagoons where he
could find a safe hiding-place for his vessel.

Running in shore by night, he found the re-
fluisite retreat for the schooner, and, giving or-

ers to Alvez Miguel, who remained in command,
that no one, under any pretense, should leave
the vessel, he disguised himself as a coast fish—
erman, and was rowed to the mainland and left
alone to go upon his perilous mission.

Although e was anxious to learn the exact
situation of affairs in Mexico, and to see what
hope there was of the Revolutionists holding

wer, he was far more desirous of seein his

by boy who, with his nurse, was then in era

Cruz, and consequently he directed his steps to
that city.
B traveling at night, only, Launcelot reach—
ed era Cruz in safety, and at once sought the
house where he knew the Persian nurse, Allene,
to livo with his little boy.

' It was late when he arrived but his knock
was at once answered by an old Mexican wo-
man, who inquired his business.

He replied that he wished to see the Senora
Allene, and the Persian woman at once appear-
ed, for she recognized his voice.

“Come in, most noble Rais,” she cried, ad-
' 2 him, as was the custom, in the manner

 

dressm
ottheEast.

 

Eubenng‘ ‘, the door was nick] closed behind“ '
 fawn; by 
a! a,

 

can woman, who now recognized in the fisher-
man her liberal patron for Launcelot had been
most generous toward er.

_ “ lily boy? my little Merle?” he asked anx-
ious y.

“Sleeps there, oh Rais, and is as beautiful an
w as his mother, my august mistress, though he
has your dark, sad e es,” said the nurse. proud-
ly, and she drew ban the silk covering from the
sleeping child.

For some moments the father stood gazing in
silence upon his baby boy, and then steepin
over he kissed the rnscbud mouth and turnc
away, his lip, ever firm amid scenes of carnage,
quivering with emotion.

“ He is very beautiful. Allenc. Here, I have
brought you fold for his wants, and your own;
and, Senora, have not forgotten you."

As he spoke, he gave a belt of gold into the
hands of Allene, and threw a purse, heavy with
the same precious metal, into the lap of the old
Mexican woman, who hugged it to her breast
with a rapture that Proved that it was her god,
as it is of most peep e, kind reader.

“I will come again to—morrow, Allcne but
not in this disguise, perhaps. You know why I
am thus disguised?" ,.e said, inquiringly.

“ Yes oh migl/ ,/ Rais; the town is full of
your sp endid ac’ , and I feared you had not es—
caped the iron hail showered upon you; you
bear a charmed life, great skimmer of the seas,"
said Allcnc, with enthusiasm;

“ So it seems, Allene; but whether rescued
for good ,or bad who can tell?” he said, sadly,
and bidding the woman adios he left the house
and wended his way to the shop of a Spanish
Jew with whom he had had dealings uite often.

4 A loud knock aroused the Jew, an cautious-
ly he 0 ned the door.

“ Dc hence, I would come in, for I need your
aid: I am the Senor Grenville,” he said, softly.

“ H01 Abraham! Senor, your life hangs by
a three in this town. Come ri ht in.”

“So I know, my friend; but do not fear’to
trust you, as v.0u see.”

The Jew led him into an inner room, beyond
his shop, which had the appearance of a mu-
seum, as it contained a. sample of nearly every
manufactured article in the world.

“ Be seated, senor, and while I open this wine
tell me how I can serve you—but, diablol what
a. deed was that of yours last week! You are a
fearless man, senor ” and the Jew placed before
his est a bottle of wine and glasses.

“ elbanco, where is my old regiment of
Lanccros?” asked Launcelot, thoughtfully.

“Up in the Sierra Madre mountains, senor;
they were ordered there months ago from the
ca ital.”

1 ‘ghey sided with the Revolutionists, doubt-
ess .

“ Yes, senor.” v
i “And you, Delbanco?”

“I am always the friend of the party in pow-
er, senor; but the Revolutionists regret losing
you, while the old defenders of the Government
{ejoilcg that you acted as you did, and remained
o a .

3‘2 Have you a uniform of the Lanccros, Del-
bancol”

“Yes, senor, a co tain’s."

“Good; if it wil
remember Captain Verona?”

“The officer who looked so much like your
self, senor?”

“ The same: has he been in town of late?”

“ Not since you were here to ether, senor.”

“And none of the regimen are in the city?”

“ No, senor: if there were I would know it.”

“ I know that you would. Now, Delbanco,

et me out the uniform, a sword, pistols, a sad-
dle, bridle, and all that I need for my make-u ,’
for on have a horse in your stable, doubtless?

“ dozen, senor.”

“Well, I wish the best, and here is gold to re-
polygon.” . ‘

‘ enor capitan, I like you, and I would warn
you that you may be discovered not to be "Cap
tain Verena.”

“ I shall take those chances. Now get me
ready. Delbanco.”

The Jew obeyed, and in half an hour after an
officer of Lanceros dismounted before the princi-
pal inn and asked for accommodations.

He'was at once sh0wn to a pleasant room, and
in a few minutes more Launcclot Grenville was
sleeping as quietly as though he were not in the
lion’s den, with death hoverin over him, should
the bold game he was playing come known.

At a late hour the following morning Launce-

lot GrenVille arose, breakfasted and then stroll
ed out into the plaza, where he was suddenly
confronted by a young aide whom he had met
before and shghtly knew.
“ Ha, Verona, when did you get into the oil: ?
Thought you were with our regiment in t e
Sierras!” and the young 0 cer stretched outhis
hand in a friend] way. .

“ I arrived las ni ht, Major Cavallo, and am
on short leavo," sai
dis uisc admirahl
‘ I am deligh

   

  

    
     
 

  

   
   
 

teld you are here. and

  
 

.woult haye‘you say no, for the
cream I  both 

fit me I will take it. You ‘

Launcclot. keeping up his ,

. . yot'iqmmt. ,, l '
come to the generallsrtc a, ball tonight.  l,

a; at“: e -M
3a r".

 

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‘sod

l x in town in disguise. Tell them to come here;é

Freelance, the Buccaneer.

in

 

f‘You are very kind, senor, and I will come
ifi‘possible."

“ You must come, By the way what do you
think of the flight of that mad American, the
other day?”

“ You refer to the escape of Captain Gren—
ville, doubtless 3”

“Yes; be fooled the castle to a man, and,
from the Governor down, they have all to open
Wine whenever they show themselves in the
City. The new government officials are crazy
over it, for they would rive much to have Gren-
ville iii their service. 'lhey have outlawed him
—-see there!”

The young officer iointed to a large placard
tacked upon a cons )icuous place, and without a
Clltl‘lllllge in his dark face, Launcelot GrenVille
re :

 

“ Announcement .’

“Whereas, an officer in the naval service of Mexi- i
(:0, has boldly, defiantly. and intentionally turned a ,
traitor to the existing Government, andrmscd the
red hand of outlawr against officials, in the 'le-
charge of their duty; (3 it declared by the llIeXlCfll)
Junm this day, March 10th.. 18—, that said treach-
erous personage; Launcclot Grenville, is hereby
branded as a pirate, and with his associate officers
and crew shall be treated as free rovers wherever
and whenever f0ull(l,seitllef upon the land or sea.

“ igncc ,
“ Tun JUNTA or MEXICO."

“ B the way, Verona, how much you look
like 1: lat Captain Grenville. I have roiiiarkcd
it before,” said the Mexican.

“Yes, there is said to be a striking likeness
between us; but he has certainly run his head
into the noose by his act. Will the Junta. send
this proclamation abroad, Senor Cavalloé” said
Launcclot, with perfect composure.

“ Oh, nol They do their duty in branding
him, and there it ends. Ifhe falls into the hands
of any of our cruisers he will be hung u with
his crew, and there the matter will end, or out-
side countries seem to care very little what
takes place in our sunny land of Mexico; but
remember the ball to-night Ca tain Verona
for I shall expect you,” and t e exican passed
on, while Launcelot Grenville muttered, as he
walked leisurely along:

“Well, I am branded as a
hunted from sea to sea.

“So be it, let the end be what it may, for
Fate leads me on and I blindly follow.

“ I had hoped for a different end—had hoped
to leave an honorable name for my boy to bear,
and that the world would never know that I
had been an officer on the deck of a Moorish
corsair. Oh! what a. bitter, fearful destiny has
been mine! Accused of being a very Cain—the
alkyer of the father of poor Lucille whom I so
fondly loved, and thereby becoming her do-
stroyer tool Oh God! I can never blot out
that night when she fell upon her father’s grave,
her own hand drivin the knife into her bosom!

“ How 1 have s cred Heaven only knows,
and why I have been spared throu h all sur-

eth my comprehension- but I wi not yield
0 death or despair now. Ilo, I will live for my
beautiful boy, and let Fate do its worst.”

He had stopped in his walk and was gazing
out upon the harbor, his heart throbbing, his
brain on fire, yet his face motionless.

“ By Heaven! I love this life of desperate
danger, and. I will go tonight to that ball, come
what may. " . ‘

Just then a vehicle passed w1th_an elderly
gentleman and a beautiful maiden in it and at
sight of the tall form in the uniform of the Mex-
ican Lancoros, they drew up.

“Ha, Senor Verona, glad to see you in town.
Going to the ball at the general-commande s
to-nightl” said the gent eman, whom Launce-
lot recognized as a distinguished lawyer.
, “ Yes, Senor Merillo, I will be there. Senor-
lta. Ysabel, I hope you are well?” u

The beautiful maiden bowed, and the vehicle
passed on. . _

“ I have more confidence in my disguise, as I
have deceived the lovely e es of Ysabel Merillo.
0w let me see if an of t e leaders of the old
G°Vernment can be ound in town,” and Launce—
10‘? ed into a by-street which led to the
“We 01 the Jew, Delbanco.

CHAPTER XVIII.
“ THE WARNING.

AH, senor, let me beg of ou not to go there-
You have Your hand on the ions mane v as it is

0 no“ Put it in his mouth, I entrant,” smé
Delhi-110°. earnestly, in answer to Launcelot’s
moancggient that he intended goiiég 2%“

: veu ' ‘1 rs
that night. $1 at the general hea -q
:2 It is a mask—ball, Delbanco.”

Oh, yes, and if you would only retire at the
end of theeveninf, and not remove your mask;
but ou Will not, know.”

“ shall remove my mask with the others,
senor. Now I Wish you to send for the Senors
1a., Moran and Cisneros, who you say are

pirate, and will be

 

1’
he] will , come, / senor
search t

:0:- it might attract attention for me to ViSl

   
    

 

ca itan. I.will at
fin, .hem.  my parlor,
1,"! I. p . -, ’

open a door, concealed by a heavy curtain and
the visitor started at the scene of magnificence
that burst upon him.

It was a large room, leading by several full—
length windows out upon a marble-paved plaza,
the center of which was ornamented with a
large fountain, a round which were grouped
beds of beautiful flowers.

A few trees were in the court, which was sur-
rounded by a high wall, the fountain was
throwing jets of water into the air, fishes swam
in the basin at its base, and numbers of birds of
if'alre plumage were fluttering about amid the

0 loge.

The room that looked out upon this scene was
beautiful in the extreme, for a velvvt carpet
covered the floor, silk curtains fell in folds over

‘ the windows, and satin divans and easy—cliairsl

were scattered here and there, while a ruitar,
some half-withered reses and several boo s lay
upon a lounge, that looked as though it might
have been recently occupied.

“ Rest here, senor, and if you wish wine and
refreshments, sound that silver gong on the
table and a servant will attend you. Now I
will be chi,” and Delbanco left the room, while
Launcelot glanced around him in amazement at
the beautiful scene.

“ The Jew must be as rich as a Croesus to live
in this style. Who would have thought that a
palace of beauty could be so near his old cu—
riosity shop,” and Launcelot threw himself
down upon a divan and took up the guitar.

Running his fingers over the strings with
skillful touch, he broke into a Spanish love-song
he had learned from his mother, and his rich
voice filled the room with melody;

“Bravo, senor capitan! I could not resist
the temptation to intrude.”

In an instant he was upon his feet, and fairly
started with surprised admiration as his eyes
fell upon a form of ex uisite loveliness, and a
face of surpassing beau y within afew feet of
him, and just oping out from beneath the
silken curtain t t concealed a. door.

It was a. dark face of Spanish beauty, with
raven hair, lashes long and thick, and a mouth
full and expressive, while her age could not
have been more than twenty.

Dressed in a. white robe of some light gauzy
material, she wore on] as ornaments a comb _of
solid gold, which hel up her masses of black
hair, a gold anchor for a brooch, and a solitaire
ring, the stone being of immense size and bean-

y.
“ It is I that am the intruder fair lady, for

this is doubtless your bower of beauty; butI

knew not that the Senor Dclbanco had a—”

He paused, and with a laugh the maiden en-
tered the room and said:

“ A wife, you were going to say; nor has he
for m mother died years ago. I am his daugh-
ter, uanita Delbanco, an you are Captain
Grenville, the—”

“ Permit me to add the word for you, senori-
ta—the pirate,” and there was a. sneer in the
voice.

“ No, no, no, senor: I meant not to say that,
but I hesitated because I feared to so to your
face what was upon my tongue; but will con-
tinue the sentenceas I inten ed—the hero of the
most gallant not ever known in Mexico. ”

“Thank you, senorita; you refer to my run-
nin the gantlet ast the castle?”

“ es, for I now that you went on the
barque, and m father and myself were visit—
ing a. friend, w iose house overlooks the harbor,
and we saw it all; but, senor capitan, have we
not met before?”

“There is somethin about your face that is
familiar, senorita, on yet—”

“Permit me to refresh your memory, and
also to thank you for a serVice rendered. Some
years a 0 cu came to the rescue of a. small
Ezrtyy 0 ad been attacked by mountain rob-

rs

“Yes, near Puebla. ”
“Have you forgotten that there was in the
y -a young girl just returning from the
conventin the city of Mexico to her home at
Vera Cruz!”

“ Ah, I remember you now; and you are that
young girl i”

“ I am and I owe you more than I can ever
repay. My father’s agent was alon , and he
had with him a. great deal of gold, w ich our
bravely coming to the rescue saved to in.
What a fate you saved me from you well know,
and I have so longed to see you that I might
tell you how I appreciated what you have done
for me.” _

“It was a. simple serVice, senorlta. I was -
ing to Mexico to report the result of my cm
to the Government, and with my two com au-
ions, heard your cry and came upon the rob rs
attacking you and our escort.”

“ Few men wot have taken the chances
against that robber band. and fewer men would
have been successful. Now you may understand
why my father has ever been your warm friend,
for, though he has never ken With you upon
the. subject, he knows we 1 all that you saved
him and his daughter. Bu senor capital), I
overheard that you were go 3 to the ball at

dante’i head-q  '

mtgw

 
   

  
 
    

   
 
 
 

.a tiny hand was slipped into his 

 

r _

   
    
  
 
 
   
  
   
  
    
  
  
  
    
   
   
   
   
   
    
  
   
  
  
  
  
   
  
  
   
  
  
  
    
  
    
     
  
   
 
     
  
   
  
  
   
   
   
   
  
   
   
   
         
 
      
    
     
 
  
 
 
 
 
        
  
  
 
  
      
 
       
   
    
     
      
   
     
   
  
 

‘ I love danger, senorita, for the excitement
it brings, and have determined to go: but will
you not favor me with a songl" and Launcelot
spoke as though desirous of changing the con-
versation.

“ You must pardon me if I refuse, for m fur
ther will soon return and I do not care to live
lilin see me here, or even know that l have seen
you. I will send you refreshments and a cigar,
and leave you to your own meditations. Adios,
senor cupitan.”

Without another word Juanita Delbanco left
the room, dish, peering behind the eiirtained
door by which s in had entered.

A moment after a servant, a poon, entered
with a silver solver, loaded with fruits, sweet-
meats, wine and cigars, and placing them upon
a table withdrew in silonco.

Dashing off a glass of the rare Mexican wine,
and lighting a cigar, Launeelot stepped out into
the plaza, and paced to and fro as was his habit
when on boai‘l ship, while his thoughts were
busy with the past, and his brow dark and
clouded.

Presently the Jew appeared before him.

“ The sonors are within, Captain Grenville,
and await your pleasure."

“ I thank you, senor,” and Lunncelot Gren-
ville entered the room once more, to find them
three men, whom, having thrown aside the dis-
guises they woro, he recognized as members of
the Government that had given him his com-
mission. ,

“ Ah. Senor Grenville, a sad change for us all
—you denounced as a irate, and we hiding un-
der disguises, while t o Bovolutionists are in

owcr,” whined one of the three cx-leaders of

exico.

“ It certainly looks bad, sonors; but the Revo-
lutionists am not so strong but what they can
be chrthrown,” boldly said Launcelot.

“ Ah, senor, that is impossible; we are crushed
to the earth.’ .

“ Whv, senors, I believed I would find in you
men willing to risk every thin to drag the party i,
now in power down into the ( net. It cannot be
that you are cowed as well as defeated," said
Launcelot, contemptuously.

“Senor, we know what would be the result;
hope is dead with us." ’

‘ Bah! I believe I could easily raise men -
enough to strike down the Governmental usurp- x » \
ers, and-J ‘

‘ No, no, my dear captain; it mubt not be, or
all our heads will go; we will all be hunted
down.”

“ So be it, senors; you know best, andI mere-
ly s oke to offer my aid in case you intended
sti'i 'ing again for power; but I am outlawed as
it is, and shall henceforth take no interest in
Mexico. Adios, senors for I do not think we
shall meet again," and Launcelot left the room
and the house, and, it being new dark, wended
his way to the home where dwelt his baby boy,
muttering between his teeth:

“ I ex ted to find them ready to' strike
against t eir foee- but lo, they are as cowardly
as foxes, and with the Revolutionista in power
the brand of buccaneer must still stand t
m mime.” ‘

uddonly a slender form confronted him, and '
asli'p of aper was thrust into his hand, and
the one w 0 gave it to him disappeared in tho ,‘5‘
darkness are e could follow him. u

By the aid of a ll ht that shone from a win-x
dow near by, Launce 0t Grenville examined the. .
paper, and saw written thereon, in English, and
in a round hand: .

“Be warned! Do not attend the commandantd. ‘
ball to—nightl" \'

There was nothing more and no Iignaturo. '
What could it mean, and w 0 could have sent ‘
the warning? ,

,.

  

  

  

 
  

  

CHAPTER XIX.
run COMMANDANT'E'S BALL. '
THE spacious and handsome quarters of the
Commandante-General of Vera Cruz wero‘
.andly illuminated in honor of the eighteenth
irthday anniversary of his beautiful daughter .
Claudita Ignacio and thither had gathered all ’
the beauty and chivalry of the city. ' ' v
The entertainment was to been costume and
en masque, and for weeks the lovely senorltal
and young senoras—for married women hold '1
much power in Mexican society—had been got-
tmg theirdresses ready, while the- gentleman, ‘
both in military, naval and civil life, were de-
su'ous of making display. . - ,
. Among those who attracted the most I.
tion for his e1 ant form and bearing, thou
his face could no be seen, as he wore a olose~
ting mask, was one dressed in the p
of a Ca tain of the Lancers, who, after bowing
before t is commandante—generatlhand the ,
tiful Claudita, and wishin for e latter .
happy returns of the y, walked 310.
through the different aalom fining at the‘
liant assemblage, and almost iry scene."
“I am glad you came, Captain

  
  

 

  
 
  

  
  
 
 
  

   
 

  
 

  
  
 
 

  
 

   

 

      
 

 

    

   

    
 
  
    
 

  

 

   
   
    
   
 

Verona;
mask of blue silk, worn by a. maiden‘in' m

oostum was a to his face
The 8’ antigen]
:1 then

 

 
   
 

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16

 

Freelance, the Buccaneer.

 

 

xi.

 

L i r w

 

r “ Oh, no, I would know your form and bear-
ings anywhere, senor; besides, your uniform
to me you are—”

“ And your sweet voice tells me that I am
honored by the company of the sweet Senorita

JBasabel Merino,” said the soldier, interrupting

r.

“ Then, as you know me, Captain Verona,
may I ask wh you have treated me so cavalier-
}y, and not on led upon me, as I had a right to
ex ect?”

‘Senorita, my time has been so occupied
since my arrival that I have not had a moment
to devote to leasure.”

“Enrique erona, your dut was to tho wo-
man on professtolove; but i you are tired of
the afiegiance you are wholly free,” and the soft
‘voice was re roachful in its tone.

Ere the 0 er could make reply to the sweet
Ysabel, a young midshipman came up to him,
and said, easantly:

“I word in your ear, senor. A fair lady de-
‘mands that] bring you to her side at once, if
the senorita will pardon me.”

Ysabel bowed and withdrew her hand from-
the officer‘s arm at once; but he led her to a
seat, and then turned to the messenger, whose
slight form was elegant in the extreme, and his
uniform most costly and rich.

“ Who would see me, senor?” he asked.

Without repliying, the youth drew the officer
to one side, an than said, in a low tone:

“ This is no place for Captain Grenville.”

In spite of his nerve Launcelot Grenville gave
asiight start; but added, in the same cautious

ne:

“ Do you tell me this as a friend?”

'-' Yes, one who would save you—
behold!” .

Launcelot turned at the quick exclamation of
the youth, and beheld, unmasked, and approach-
ing the commandante, an officer of the Lan-
ceros, his uniform and rank the same as his own,
and his form strangely alike while his face was
dark, and also bore a striking resemblance to
his own.

“ Senor, it is Captain Enrique Verona, the
man you impersonate,” said the midshipman.

“So I see. Come, let us draw near and see to
what unlucky circumstance I am indebted for
his untimely arrival,” coolly said Launcelot,
and, arm in arm with the middy, they approach-
ed the s where the commandante stood,

eetin is guest, and heard him say:

“ Bot Claudita and myself were confident

we welcomed you half an hour ago in mask,
Captain Verona, so you have here a counter-
oart- but when did you arrive?”
i] hour since senor general, and I invited
myself to your bail, as I bear dispatches to you.
Permit me to place them in your keeping,” and
the officer handed a. sealed ackage to the com-
mandante, who excused imself and turned
away, while the maiden in Turkish costume
came forward and said, in a low tone:

“Captain Verona, I heard you say that you
had ‘ust arrived in Vera Cruz?”

“ i, senorz'ta, an hour ago, and I could not re-
sist the temptation of coming here although not
:in mask.” . ' _

The maiden seemed puzzled, and replied:

“You were in mask half an hour ago, senor?”

“No, lady; it must have been my counter-
part, of whom the general spoke; but I knew
not that any of our officers were in Vera. Cruz,
and none are, so I shall denounce the man who
has dared to wear our uniform.”

“ Enrique Verona, there has been some sad
mistake, if you speak the truth, and I cannot
doubt you. I am Ysabel Merillo.”

“ Ysabel, my darling, I intended to hunt this
assemblage over for you. Come, take my arm.”

“ Have ou heard enough to warn on of your
danger? ome with me, or you are ost,” cried

Por Dias I

_ the midshi man, as both he and Launcelot Gren-

ville saw aptain Verona and Ysabel turn in
their direction.

But, Launcelot Grenville remained firm, his
arms folded upon his broad breast, and his som-
ber eyes flashiii through his mask.

. As the gaze o Enrique Verona fell upon his
counterpart, he started and his face turned pale

with a certain superstitious awe, while Ysa
' said, faintly: _ _ .

“ See, there he stands, Enrique! Santisszmal
how much alike!”

Alla es were now turned upon the two of—
ficers, t e one masked, the other unmasked, as
they stood a few feet a rt, the fair Ysabel
hanging on the Mexicans arm, and the mid-
shipman standing by the aide of Launcelot
Grenville. . _

“ Ysabel,” and Captain Verona spoke in a low

y' tone: “ Ysahel, there is but one man that I have

ever‘ seen whose form is as much like mine as is
that person’s, and whose face too must be alike
also, as you bowed to him for me this afternoon
and that man it cannot be, unless—yes, he would

   

I

 dare anything.”

. Stepping quickly forward the Mexican said
1km] , yet politely:

“ nor, as I happen to know that every of-

eer of my regiment except myself is now on

= mmthe S'erra Madre mountains, I beg to

why you wear the Lanceros uniform, and

 

'wawllta'ke youthere are none

The answer came in a deep, calm voice:

“ Is this a request or a demand, senor?”

“A demand if so you like it, senor,” hotly
returned the exican.

“ Then I decline now to answer.”

“ And you refuse to unmask, too?”

it I do.”

“ the Virgin! but you shall.”

“ old! this is no place for a scene, senor; but
if you wish to see my face, and care to unmask
me we will go elsewhere.”

There was something in the calm manner and
cool tones of the masked man that restrained
the fiery Mexican from his evident intention of
unmasking the man before him, and he said,
quickly: '

“ Anywhere you please, senor; lead the way.”

Launcelot bowed and turned away, the mid-
shipman clinging to his arm.

“ Go to the orange grove, near the arbor,”
whispered the midshipman, and he dashed away
in the throng.

Quietly Launcelot Grenville moved among
the crowd, and, havin left Ysabel on the arm
of some other gallant, nrique Verona followed.

“ As this is a personal matter, senor, in which
you consider yourself aggrieved by my wearin
the uniform of your regiment, we will walfi
apart from lookers-on,” said Launcelot.

But Enrique Verona hesitated, and seeing it,
Launcelot (xreiiville continued:

“ Do you fear to go alone with me, senor?
You are armed.”

“ N o, I fear no man; where will you go?” hot-
ly re lied the Mexican.

“ nto the garden, if so it please ou, senor.”

The Mexican said something in a. ow tone to
an officer in infantry unifonn near him, and
then aloud:

“ Senors, it is my request that we be not fol-
lowed, for this gentleman may be able to prove
he has a right to the uniform he wears, though
I doubt it.” ’

Then he bowed to Launcelot Grenville, and
the two walked away together, the Mexican
leading the way to an orange grove not far dis~
tant from the mansion.

“ Now, senor, I demand that you unmask,"
and the Mexican turned upon his counte art.

There was a new moon and it shone brightly
upon the masked face of Launcelot Grenville,
who said, indiflferently:

“ I care not to unmask, senor; if you demand
it, ou have a sword, so enforce the demand.”
he Mexican sprung forward with a maledic-
tion upon his lips, and said: .

“ Then I’ll tear your mask from your face.”

But a blow of iron sent him reeling back-
ward, and with a cry of rage he drew his sword
and rushed upon the man before him, who
can ht the blade upon his own, and by one
ikil (gul movement sent it from the Mexican’s

an .
“ Por Dios! you shall not escape, for I know
on now. None other could disarm me. Help,
nor Rafael! This man is Grenville, the pi-
rate I”

At his words two men sprung from the shadow
of the arbor, one of them being the infantry of-
ficer to whom Enrique Verona had Spoken on
leaving the mansion, and the other in naval at-
tire, and both with swords drawn, as they
fished forward at the call of the Lancero cap-

in.

 

CHAPTER XX.
A DEBT REPAID.

“ Cowman! take that!”

The words broke from the ang'r
Ltuncelot Grenville at the treachery ogEnri ue
Verona, in havin others follow them to he
orange grove, an as he spoke he dashed the
hilt of his sword full in the already bruised face
of the Lancero, while he said, quickly:

“ Were it not that that sweet girthsabel
Merillo, loves you, I would kill you.

But the blow fell heavily and the Men'can,
stunned and bleeding, sunk down in his tracks,
while, turning upon is other assailants, Launce-
lot Grenville dashed aside the sword of one and‘
drove his own wea on through his body.

Ere he could wit draw the blade the oficer in
naval uniform was upon him; but there came a
sudden flash, aloud report, and the third Mexi-
can fell in his tracks, while the midshipman,
pistol in hand, 5 run to the side of the man be

ad so nobly be rien ed. 1

“ Come, senor, come uicl-n for the shot has
alarmed the mansion. v this priest’s robe
around you,” and the midshirman threw around
Launcelot’s shoulders a hea. y mantle, and an-
other about himself, while he drew him awa
toward a low wall, upon the other side of whic
stood two horses.

“ Mount for your life, senor, and come I”
cried the youth, and vaulting into the saddles
they dashed away, just as Enrique Verona
arose to his feet and cried in loud tones to the
excited crowd hastening toward the spot:

“It is Grenville the pirate! Do not let him

escape.” +

- “ fear I have gotten you into troubleto~

night, senor,” said Launcelot, as the two gal-

loped rapidly down the deserted streets. \,
‘Np, for not a .soul'will know me,.and'the

to see where;

lips of

  

Ag,-

   

 
    
   
  
   
 
   
    
 
 
    
 
 
 

 

 

 

     
  
  
 

    
  
      
  
  
 

  

      
  
  
    
  

   

go; but you had better have heeded my w
{pgla’iid stayed away from the commandan 1

a .

“May I ask who you are that has served 
so well?” u Shi

“One who owes on a debt of gratitude th mph,
can never be repai ” said the youth, foelin l ‘1 mud.

“ Whatever that debt may be it is more t u Y0
repaid by your act tonight. You have sav “Ye
my life, and, for the sake of one being in t .I and
world, I would not die now.” 3mm

“ Here we are, and we are safe. Enter!" “he i,
the midshipman threw open a gate in a garde ' u 9
wall and both rode within. H V,

Dismountinrr, the youth led the horses into water
low stable an unsaddled them. and fl,’

“Now, come with me,” and the midshipm “who;
entered a massive door in a high wall. and whi blue fl
he had to unlock. it It

Launcelot Grenville stepped through the po senor
tal and started with surprise. pomp’,

“This is the private garden of the Senori “115a;
Delbanco,” he said, in 511 rise. with

“ And I am Juanita elbanco, the Jowess, , rash,
was the low reply. ! C0,:

“ Senorita!” and the voice of Launcelot Gran-i castle
ville trembled, for he was deeply movedil of the
“ Senorita, you are a noble woman, and I owO‘ long,
you my life—my escape from an ignominiou V to se
death, and you have more than re aid the ser’i aime,
vice I rendered you, years ago. W y you have 6
done this I cannot tell, and your father—” I. who

“ My father knows nothing of my masquerade. 2, said ,
I dreaded danger to you, and as I have been 8' Fr,
perfect horsewoman since a child, I determined walk
to aid you if I could and fearing you might be stun
recognised took the horses to the grove beyond 1y 1,,
the commandante’s garden. ‘ seen

“I regret that blood had to be shed, but it “1
could not be hel ed. Now I will ive you a
good dis ise, an you must at once eave Vera m
Cruz. on will not refuse me this request?” En ‘
and she looked up pleadin ly into his face, while um
she tore off the Silk mask 5 e wore. be s

Removing his own mask Launcelot said, sadly: u

“I will do as you wish; but where is your that
father?” ‘01;

“He must not know what I have done to- H
night, and, fortunately, he is away wifii a friend U
that IS ill.” _ nan

Leading the way into the house, Juanita Fm
showed the man whose life she had saved to a “
room, and excusing herself for a moment, soon 
returned with the suit of a fisherman, false ea
beard and all. or

Ten minutes after Launcelot Grenville, in his a}
rude attire, joined Juanita in the elegantly- ‘
furnishd salon where he had met her that l 1
afternoon. a 1

“ Farewell, senorita! and may you ever be w
ha py will be my prayer.” [3;

‘Adios, senor!” and the beautiful head was da-
bowed, while Launcslot Grenville (1 out ya
into the street and the door closed be 'nd him. do

Secure in his diguise he walked brisk] along, so]
and soon knocked at the door of the lit 9 house ' m!
where dwelt Allene with his little son.

“Oh, senor, I am so glad to see you, for the at
soldiers are looking for you everywhere,” said as
the old Mexican woman, who opened the door F1
for him. ' u

“I intend leaving the city and came to say
adios,” and he crossed over to where Allene eat 9‘
with the child in her la . k

Oh, Rais you are in anger ” said the nurse. ,_ 3:

“I am ways in danger, Ailene,” he answer- '3
ed, calmly, and bent over the babe, whose dark ‘ a
bright eyes turned upon him, and smiled, show~ l,
in no fear of the rough beard and hair. '- u

a moment the lone] , hunted man stood look- 1
ing at the child, and t on turned away. i i

‘ Let no harm befall my boy, Allene, what- 5
ever fate overtakes his ather. You know ‘ y
where the Treasure Isle is, and the Abyssinian \ .
will show you where the riches are hidden, 5
should death come to me. FarewelL” I

A moment after he had one out into the ‘ i,
streets now filled with sol iers and citizens 4
hunting everywhere for the daring buccaneer, !
who had so recklessly entered a city where he
was so well known—had gone to the com-
mandante’s ball and left two dead men as
souvenirs of his visit, and a scar on the hand- ,
some face of Enrique Verona, Captain of Lau-
ceros, that would go with him to the grave.

CHAPTER XXI.
AFTER THREE YEARS.

ONE morning in October, some three years
after the branding of Launcelot Grenville as an
outlaw and pirate, by the Mexican Government,
the sentinel on the parapet of the Castle San
Juan de Uloa, reported to the officer of the day
that he heard distant firin at sea, and a mes—
senger was sent up to Vera ruz, to dispatch a
gunboat then in port out to the. scene.

The cruiser soon sped by the castle and head— ~ "
ed seaward, while at the same time asail hove : . ‘
in sight on the eastern horizon, but the sound ‘
of firing still continued, though  fainter .
and fainter, until it could be no anger card. . " A

' hted had, in th '

 
 
 
   

 

 

Freelance, the Buccaneer.

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. and join my schooner ctr Lobos island.

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As she drew nearer it was apparent to all on
the watch that she had been in action, for her
rigging Was badl cut up and her hull shottorn

11 a number of p aces.

As the cruiser passed close to her the officer
0‘ l, ‘deck hailed:

,, Shlp aho ! What ship is that?”

The Eng ish ship Queen, from London, and
‘1 D‘I‘md to Vera Cruz with merchandise."

“Egon have been in action?”

BS, we were chased by a buccaneer schoon-
31’. and would have been captured had not an
American sloop~of-war hove in sight and run
the irate off.”
:: escribe the schooner, senor.”

vel‘ Y 10ng and narrow—lying low in the
water, and carrying fifteen uns, a large crew,
and fly 111g at the peak a. b ack flag with a red
anchor in the center, and at the fore a small,
blue field with a gold lance in it.” _

“It is the Freebooter Freelance! Graczas,
senor, I will see if I can OVerhaul him,” and the
Pompous little Mexican commander crowded on
all sail, as though he really wished to come up
‘Vlth the noted buccaneer, who, on several oc-
rasions had run the cruiser into ort.

Continuing on her way the s iip passed the
castle and soon after dropped anchor in front
Of the city, when her commander, a. man with
long gray beard and hair, prepared to go ashore
to seek the firm to who his vessel was con-
81 med.

6 readily found the Mexican merchants,
Who con atulated him upon his escape, and
said the 5 ip should at once be unloaded.

From the shipping merchants the old captain
walked leisure y up the street, looking at the
strange sights that met his eye, until he sudden-
ly halted before a window in which could be
seen ayariety of articles.

“ lYlll the senor purchase from me?” asked a
man in the doorway, olitely.

“ Yes, I may find w at I desire here,” and the
English captain entered the shop, and, seeing
that he was alone with the one in attendance,

e said in a low tone:

“ Have three years so changed me, Delbanco,
that you fail to recognize an old friend, or care
Not to speak to Freelance the Freebooter?”

“ Holy Abraham! Captain Grenville—”

“ Hold! I am no longer known by that
name; it is buried forever. I am Freelance the
Freebooter,” said the other.

“ I should never have known on in that dis-

'se. Come into my salon an remove your

card and wig and let me look once more upon

your face, for you have ever a friend in me,
Captain Gren—I mean Freelance.”

“ I thank you, Delbaiico. The name then that
l have won as a pirate has not turned mm
a must me!” and having entered the room. into
N 'ch the reader has been before ushered, Free-
lance threw aside his wig and beard, and the
dark, stern face of Launcelot Grenville was re-
vealed, the lines harder drawn and an expres-
sion of bitterness hovering around the hand-
some mouth, while the eyes held a look even
mare somber than was their wont.

Never, captain! I am always your friend,
and You were driven to iracy. Alas! what a
name You have won, and how that one word

‘reelance, causes atremor in the hearts of all
ex1cans.”

“YeS, Delbanco; I was driven to it, and now
Ever flag that floats hunts me down. So be it,

i am what I am——the toy of Fate, a curse to
ngelf and mankind.”

‘3 sPoke bitterly, and the Jew sought to
mgn e theiséibject, so he asked,vquickl : y

ow i on at into era ruz m
Mend?” y g

A derisive laugh broke from the lips of Free-

nce, and he answered:

“. Another ruse, senor, as good as the one by
Will‘ch I took my schooner to sea, three years
igo. I captured a. large English ship from Lon-
flon, and consigned to the Senors Aquero 86
Munoz, of Vera Cruz, and putting the “355.61%
trew on the schooner, I picked my men, 31nd 1111'
WFSOIIating the British captain and his men,
killed into the harbor, meeting a Mexlcan
Rr‘u‘iser going out, alarmed by the firing.”

‘ But you will lose the ship’s car 0 l”

0h: f’es; Aquero & Munoz wil get the car-
gO, but care not for that and would gwe ten

mes its value to accomp ‘ h what I came here
for. When the ship is unloaded I shall set Bsail

H J
how does the World Del‘

anco?”

“ Financially, well, senor; but I am all alone,
as my daughter, whom ou never met, sailed in
the Packet-shi Sea Grul last week for New 0r-
le‘fPS» Where 5 6 went to visit my sister.”

What! In the Sea Gull you say, senor?”
asked Freelance, Iwith excitement. h

senor. o ou know an ht of t e ves-
sel‘f”Ycersiedshthe Jew, iii alarm. g R1
68: ewas ca tured two da 5 ob '-

cardo, the lieutenant) of Lafitte.” y ag y
he Jew bowed his head and groaned in

use you, my good

'Zgzeknow you this, senor?” he asked.

ls honor amon thieves, ou know
Jew gm bFlfi'eelance, gand I can’ie u on Ri1

881111116 just as he over-

 

hauled the Sea Gnll, but of course did not in-
terfere in his capture. ’

“ And my daughter’s fate?” oaned the Jew.
“ You know what her fate W' be, senor?”

“ Doubtless ransom will be asked to restore
her to you.”

“ It shall be paid by tens of thousands of pesos.
Oh senor save my daughter, save my only
child, andI will give you all I am worth. I am
rich, rich, oh, so very rich, and all shall be
yours!”

The poor father dropped upon his knees with
hands clas d, and looked imploringly up into
Ehe face or Freelance, who said, in his deep

ones:

“Rise, senor. I will hasten the discharge of
the ship, and sail at once to the rendezvous and
regoin my schooner.

‘ I know the haunt of Ricardo and there
your daughter will be taken, and I will offer a
fair ransom for her. If he refuses I will take
her by force, and if harm has befallen her, I
will avenge her. I swear it!”

“ Thank you, senor; 011, thank you from the
depth of an old father’s heart. I will give you
the old for her ransom.”

“ on will do nothing of the kind, Delbanco,
for though you may be rich, I could buy your
wealth a hundred times over. I have an island
where I keep untold treasure and you must
know that I trade blood for gold.”

He spoke bitterly, and the Jew said, anx-
ousl ':

“ Vlien will you 0, senor?”

“ At the very ear iest moment I can, and I
will kee ) men discharging the cargo day and
night. Now there is one other I wish to see,”
and resuming his disguise and promising to call
again, Freelance left the shop and wended his
way to the home of the old Mexicali woman,
where dwelt his boy, the idol of his heart.

There were two things that struck the Senors
Aquero & Munoz, shipping merchants, in the
conduct of the English vessel consigned tothem,
and those were his almost constant absence from
his ship, and the haste he urged in dischar ing
the cargo while he declined to reload in era
Cruz, preferring to sail for Sisal for a freight of
lo wood and mahogany, he said.

he fourth day after his arrival in port the
ship was ready to sail, the ca nters having
been kept busy on board re airing damages,
and with afair breeze the $003 vessel sailed out
of harbor, running close in under the castle
guns, while the officers at the fortress who gazed
down upon her little thought that the tall forui
standing near the wheel was none other than
the famous buccaneer Freelance, upon whose
head, dead or alive, a heavy rice was set.

Heading seaward until ni t hid the sea from
view, the ship then run up t e coast of Mexico,
and in good time drop ed anchor 01f the Island
of Lobos, where the uccaneer schooner was
awaiting her arrival.

On board the schooner were the captain and
crew of the captured ship, and calling them on
deck Freelance said, quietly:

“Captain, I merely borrowed your ship for a
short while, and now return her to you in good
order.

“Her cargo I delivered to the Senors Aqucro
8t Munoz at Vera Cruz as you will see by those
receipts; but. as I had to hasten away to per-
form a certain duty, I could not accept their re-
turn cargo, and advise you to go there at once
for it, and present my compliments to the Mex-
ican officials and say I will call on them again
before long. Yourself and crew are free, cap-
tain; and your vessel, having served my pur-
pose, awaits you.”

The astounded and delighted Englishman lost
no time in again taking command of the vessel
he had believed lost to him forever, and thank-
ing Freelance most heartily, he stood awa from
the island, headin for Vera Cruz, where is ar-
rival and remarka 1e story threw the City into
the wildest excitement, and caused the officials
to be looked u M as toys for the amusement of
Freelance the reebooter.

As for Delbanco, the Jew he enjoyed the ex-
citement hugely, and his ope of havmg his
beautiful daughter Juanita restored to him was
very great, for he had perfect confidence in the
word of Freelance, buccaneer thou h he was.

In the meantime the freebooter ad set sail
from Lobos island, and was making with all
speed for the haun’ of Ricardo the pirate, who
had a stronghold ‘ on an isle u u what is now
the Texas coast,».-"it at that time belonged to
Mexico.

,\

i

 

r

CHAI’TER xxn.
THE BUCCANEEB ISLE.

ONE of the most cruel .buccaneers of the re-
sent century was a Spaniard by the name 0 Bi.
cardo and a captain of Lafitte, the Pirate of
the dulf, who did such 81 al serv1ce for the
Americans in the battle of ew 0rleans. _

After the destruction of Lafitte s fleet Ricar.
who escaped in his deet vessel, became a ter.
ror alon the coast from Florida to _Yucatan,

fiout the courage to_trust himself far
out at sea, he was wont to hide in the lagoons

and inlets, and pounce out upon his

 

prey, who ap aled to him in vain for mercy,
unless it was is mood to spare.

This was the man who had captured the Sea.
Gull, as, bound to New Orleans, and with the
wind from the northeast, she stood in shore
ward on the port tack, toward the mouth of the
Rio Grande.

Upon this vessel Delbanco had told Freelance
that his daughter had gone as passenger, and of
course had fallen into the power of the merci~
less Ricardo, who, after a short, sharp action
had captured the packet ship and sent her at
once to his island stronghold.

Toward this rendezvous theuFreelance head-
ed after leaving Lobos island not at all sorry to
have a cause of quarrel with his rival rover,
whom he hated for his numerous acts of cruelty,
for though a daring and fearless buccaneer him-
self, Launcelot Grenville had not become 9. mon-
ster, or made war upon women and children,
nor struck down the defenseless man.

It was Just after sunrise, one pleasant morn-
ing, that the schooner stood in toward the island
stronghold, winding its way through the chan-
nel under the iilotnge of a seamen who had
once served uii er Ricardo.

As she drew nearer in shore those on the. declv
of the schooner discerned the craft of Ricardo
lying close in under the land, the rigF-ililifi-I min‘
gling with the foliage of a tree-cla that
overhung the little haven in which the outlaw
vessel found refuge.

Presently. from the hill-top came a white put!
of smoke, and a solid shot buried itself in the
blue waters ‘ust in front of the schooner’s hows.

“A good 5 iot, and a hint to show our colors.
Run up the red anchor and lance, Senor Miguel,”
said Freelance, and to the fore went the blue
field with its lance of gold, and at the peak was
raised the flag of black with the red anchor in
in its center.

But a second shot came from the hill—top, and
striking near sent the spray over the deck.

“ The Senor Ricardo seems to doubt his con-
fine in crime. Show him a white flag, Senor

iguel,” sneered Freelance, and up to the main-
top went a huge flag of truce.

‘ Ah, he respects the white fla ; I did not be-
lieve it of him. Run ri ht in, lielmsman, and
anchor near Ricardo’s sc ooner.”

Swiftly the fleet vessel lided into the island
harbor, passed over the ar, and sweeping up
into the wind lay to not a cable's length from
the other buccaneer craft

Freelance glanced around him, and beheld
that the hills overhanging the harbor were well
fortified, while anchored near were half a dozen
craft of various sizes, and upon the shore were
wrecks of others that had been burned.

Upon a shelf on the hillside were a score 01
rude cabins made from ship timbers, and an
opening in the trees showed a small valley be-
I:ond, where were half a dozen huts of a like

iiild.

The vessel of Ricardo lay close in shore, and
at her guns stood her crew, while the cannon on
the hillside were also manned, and every pre a.-
ration was made to give the visiting craf a
warm reception, should its errand rove hostile.

“Ahoy, the buceaneer! I won] see Captain
Ricardo,’ hailed Freelance.

“ Ca tain Ricardo is ashore at his cabin; you
can see him there,” replied an oflicer in com—
[band of the schooner. -

Callin a boat’s crew to accompany him, and
telling enor Mi uel to signal him it needed,
Freelance fearless y rowed ashore, and a sailor,
sent from the vessel of Ricardo, led him to a.
quiet retreat back from the harbor, where a
cabin, larger and more comfortable than the
others, stood alone.

In the doorway sat Ricardo, a man of huge
frame, a heavily-bearded face, and an eye that
glittered devilishly.

He was dresscd in a uniform combining the
Spanish and United States navies, and was
armed with a cutlass. a brace of pistols and a
long knife. .

A more forbidding face and form one would
not care to gaze upon.

“ Ah, it is Criptain Freelance! HadI known--”

“Nonsense, icurdo, you know In vessel too
well to mistake her for a cruiser un er a le 'ti-
mate flag, and I raised my colors at your t
fire,” said Freelance, gazing straight into the
other’s face.

"‘ Be seated, senor, and say why I am honored
With a visit from you,” replied Ricardo, sul-
leiily, eVidently not pleased y the coming of
Freelance. I

_“You may be certain I came not from mo-
tives of friendship, senor.”

“ Ha! then why raise the white flag?” deman-
ded Ricardo, nervously.

“ Uiion the principle of fl hting the devil with

fire. did not wish to be blown out of the wa-

ter by your guns, and I was determined to sec
on

“ How can I serve you, Ca tain Freelance?”

“ That is to the oint. on captured the
Vera Cruz and New rleans packet, Sea Gull, a
short while since.”

“ Yes, and she was hardly worth the powder
I burned to bring her to.”

“ I am not asking you to share, Captain Bi-
cardo, so I care not for her worth, though I hip.

 

   

  

 

   
 

    
  
  

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, in

‘ ped by Freelance, for he well knew that he must

and
brings forth bad fruit against him, for his
‘men

and many he
bedbm

18

Freelance, the Buccaneer.

 

a

n to know that she was carrying a rich

eight. “Vere there any women or children on
board senor.”

“I do not admit your right to uestion me
to arding my captures, Captain reelance,”
an [en] said the Spaniard.

“ It is a right that I will take, senor, especial-

_ ly as you might be enriched by a ransom.”

“ Ah! N 0, there were no women and chil-
lll'ell on board— yes, one woman, the captain’s
wife, and another, the ship’s stewardess.’

“ Well, what became of those two?”

“The captain‘s wife was killed, and the stew-
ardess went on with the ship, which I released
upon ransom.”

“lVitli all her crew and passengers?”

“ Excepting a few I kept to serve me.”

“ Then there was no young girl on board ?"

“ No; you have made a mistake, senor.”

“ I think not; you make a mistake in keeping
back the fact that you have a maiden captive,
for whom you can get a ve large ransom.”

“I have no such captive, tell you.”

“ Ricardo, you lie in your false throat, and I
swear to you, if you have harmed the maiden, I
will swing you up to the yard-arm of yom’ own
Vessel.”

Freelance spoke in deadly earnest, and in an
l nstant both men were upon their feet, Ricardo
Livid with rage.

“ Caramba ! Do you dare me in my own
lien?” he elled.

“ Yes, have come here for that maiden, and
1 will have her. If dead, or harm has‘befalleii
her, you shall die 1”

Ricardo attempted to draw a pistol, but like a

tempted to strike him in the back, but he knew
his own men would at once turn against him,
while, although Freelance was a dangerous ad-
versary, he hoped that he might slay him in the
hand-to—haud conflict which he now felt Was un-
avoidable.

Slowly toward the beach the two leaders and
the crew moved, and messengers Were sent to
gather all to the scene of combat, while Free—
lance hailed his schooner and bade his men come
ashore. '

In wonder and excitement the buccaneers
flocked to the spot, where Ricardo stood with
livid face and somewhat nervous manner, and
Freelance paced to and fro, a cigar between his

1 s.
pAs the eager crowd peered around Freelance

! said, as he glanced over the numerous faces:
“Lads, Captain Ricardo and myself have a ,
cause of quarrel between us, and I have chal- ‘

lenged him to fight it out with ally weapons he
may desire: am I right?"

A cheer from the crowd answered, and throw—
ing aside his uniform coat in which he delight-
ed to make display, and taking a sword, handed
him bya huccaneer lieutenant, Ricardo signified
his readiness to meet Freelance, who advanced
upon him rapidly his own blade on guard, and
his dark eyes flas ing fire.

 

flash Freelance struck it from his hand with his ‘

sword.

“You are iii my power, Ricardo, and our
quarrel must be settled new and here. I have
oflered you ransom fora captive, and you re-
fuse it.” '

“ I tell you I know of no such captive. There
is a nun that I took some weeks ago on the Way
to Havana from New Orleans, and she is the
only woman worthy of ransom that I have. ”

‘ Again I say you lie! and I am determined
M have the ca tive or your life.”

“ Captain reelance, on are wild. I have

,but to, give an alarm an a score of men will
hurl themselves upon you.”

H Sound that alarm and it will be your death- ’

knell, for I will run you through the heart.”

The savage buccaneer guailed, and his hand
on his cutlas -hilt tremble , for be felt that he
was in the power of a dangerous man; sohe
said, Whinin ly:

' eelance, you hold the advantage
over in .”

“Do I? Well, call your men, and I pledge
you I will not harm you.”

In surprise at his chan e of tactics, and yet
half-dou ting, Ricardo p aced a whistle to his
lips and ve a shrill blast.

Instant y the sounds of running feet were
heard a. preaching; but with a smile upon his
lips, an folded arms, Freelance stood silently
awaiting their coming.

The next moment a. number of men came
down a. path at a run and halted by the cabin,
drawn cutlasses in their hands.

“Men, I caused your ca tain to call you, for
he seemed afraid to be aone with me, and
wished you to hear what I have to say.”

“You mistake, senor; I fear no man,” yelled
Ricardo, emboldened by the presence of his
men.

Freelance smiled, and continued:

“I came here, my lads, to ransom a lady
whom your captain holds captive and as he
so she is not here, and I know that she fell
his hands, I new challenge him to meet me
taco to face as a man, and if fan by his hands,
yonder vessel is his, and my crew shall yield him
allegiance; if he falls by my hand, then I shall
be your chief. Captain Ricardo, you can select
your own weapons.”

Ricardo at once saw

 

 

      
 
   

  
 

how he had been entrap-

ght or forever lose caste with his men, as they
would look upon him as a coward and brand ;
him as such. I
It was toolate now to regret having called the
men, and he was in a quandary what to do; but ‘
jum like a drownin man, at a straw.
“ ptain Freelance, will give you full per-
mission to search the island, and if you find the l
lady here you may have her without ransom,”

 

he sal .

“No, for if she is not here, you have gotten
rid of her.
you before your crew as a. base coward. Am I i
not fair, men?"

“Ay, ay, senor!” yelled the men in chorus,
Ricardo saw that the seed sown was alread :

   

ew him to be a desperate hand with the
tword, for he was both powerful and skillful; ,
besides, he was very un opular as a commander,
that reelance would kill him
9 1; air chief, for they did not all pos-
the brutal nature of thpir savage captain.

“ I 0 we will adjourn to the beach, and I

duel earn bew'ltueseed byyourmpn,

at,

“W

 

CHAPTER XXIII.
THE BATTLE or THE BUCCANEERS.

As Freelance advanced to the attack u n
Ricardo the crews of the different lea ers
gathered around with the deepest interest to
see these two rival buccancers settle the quarrel
between them with the sword.

The followers of Ricardo knew Freelance well
by name, and he had the reputation of being a
kind-hearted and generous leader, though a se-
vere disciplinarian, and the manner in which he
was driven to buccaneerin by outlawry they
were acquainted with, whi e his capture of one
of Lafitte’s fastest schooner-s some years before,
his running the desperate gantlet past the Castle
de Uloa, and many other tales of his great cour-
age and prowess, were conilnon forecastle stories.

On the other hand, self—interest and protec-
tion held many of them under the leadership of
Ricardo, whom most of them hated, while only

5 a few of his own cruel kind cared to remain

 

I read his all

You shall meet me, or I shall brand ‘ tagonist, Freelance su

    
 

with him from choice.

As for the crew of Freelance they respected
and admired him, for his wounded were never
thrown into the sea as useless, after having
nobly fought for him, but taken care of, and,
though a bold sea robber, striking wherever
there were spoils to gain, or a battle to be won,
and apparentl loving scenes of desperate con-
flict, et they ad never known him to be inten-
tion 1y cruel, but one who punished all acts of
inhumanity severely.

A man whose life was a mystery to them, and
one whom they felt had suffered much, he was
full of- inconsistencies of character, for a lion in
battle, he was womanly in his softness of man-
ner to the defenseless, and sympathetic to those
in distress; and the insulter of a woman, or one
who harmed a child in his presence, was certain
to feel the deadly weight of his sword.

As the two blades came together the sparks
flew from the steel, and seemingly in the first
stroke both men had measured the strength
of each other.

Taller than his opponent, heavier by far, and
possessed of great strength, Ricardo had little

readed the combat for he was ambitious to
become the commander of the swift and stanch
vessel of Freelance, and thereb add to his pro-
tection from cruisers; but w en he threw all
his power into his arm, and felt that his adver-
sary’s blade did not yield, he became aware
that he had met his match physically, and must
Conquer wholly by his skill as a swordsman, and
his face showed that he intended some cunning
device with the weapon of which he certainly
was master. ,

As for Freelance his face here its habitual
stern, unmoved look; but his e es seemed to
onist, and every eint made by
him was antimpated and parried.

Seein that t en‘ leaders appearedto be equal‘
ly mate ed, the men became more excited and
crowded around, forming a small ring in which
the fierce struggle was going on, while upon
the hillside, some distance off, a. small group
were witnessing the battle of the ’ 1:5.

From having acted upon the efensive, and
leading not on y Ricardo but the men to believe
that he was not the egual of his ferocious an-

denly began the offensive
to the surprise of all, and a cheer went up from
his own crew, which was joined in by many of
the Island Buccaneers. ' . I

At this new exhibition of his enemy’s skill,

1 Ricardo’s evil face turned livid once more, and
I, he fought with the ferocity of desperation, but

steadily he was pressed back, the crowd ving
we ,. until throwing his whole strengt an
5 into his movements, Freelance beat down
the weapon of his‘antagonist and drove his own
blade through his body.

 

Acry,likethatofawildbeastin fri ht and.

nbroke m,thebloodlessli of 'card
‘gd’ashefdxto- ., 1”
withaavageviciausnssz.
1 3;; :v xi,»-

\ .

 

0,
the earth in cheap, heyelled, J

  

“ Cut the dog in pieces, you
him down, I say, for he has k'

A number of his crew sprung forward as
though to obey, when, in trumpet tones, the
voice of Freelance arese above the din and con-
fusion:

“ Hold! don’t press me, devils!”

As he spoke, with drawn sword and istol in
the other hand, he confronted those w 0 were
antagonistic to him, and they shrunk back be-
fore Iiis blazing eyes.

“Cowards! if you fear to avenge your chief,
1 will revenge myself.” -

As the dying Ricardo spoke, he threw forward
a pistol he hat drawn from his bosom and pulled
the trigger, ere Freelance could turn u on him.

But, suddenly, a slender form darte forward
and kicked up the muzzle of the weapon, and
the bullet went above the head of the man for
whom it was aimed, while Ricardo, with a bit-
ter oath, sunk back in the agonies of death.

“ Ha, my fine fellow, you turned that ball
from my heart. Henceforth we are friends,”
and Freelance turned toward the one who had
kicked up the pistol that had been so well aimed,
and saw before him a outh of eighteen, with
black curling hair, cuts ort, and aface that was
strikingly handsome, while a slight mustache
shaded his mouth.

He was dressed in white duck pants, and a
dark, loose sack coat, and wore a jaunty sailor

ca .

gow, as the youth grasped the hand extend-
ed to him, he hung his head, and seemed con-
fused, and answered, in a low tone, when asked
who he was:

“Lam cabin-boy on the vessel of Captain
Ricardo, senor.”

“ You are young for a buccaneer, and do not
£00k like one accustomed to scenes of a wild na~

ure. .

“I am a captive, senor, and not from choice
one of the pirate band,” was the low re 1y.

“ He was taken on the Sea Gull pac et ship,
I heerd yer axin’ about, yer honor,” said an En-
glishman, advancing.

“ Ah 2” and Freelance gazed more intently in-
to the face of the youth, and said, kindly:

“Go on board my vessel, my boy; I will soon
be there.”

The youth turned away, and Freelance step-
ped forward and leant over Ricardo.

“He is dead. Men, those who do not wish to
serve under me, say so frankly, and you can
leave the island in one of those fprize vessels
yonder,” and he faced the sea of aces gazing
upon him.

There was a moment’s silence, and then as
no dissenting voice was heard, one of Ricardo’s
lieutenants cried:

“A bravo, lads. for Captain Freelance!”

Instantly a wild cheer went up from the
crowd, and raising his hat, Freelance said, as he
turned to the buccaneer oflicer who had so
promptly sided with him, and who was an old,
gay“ aired S niard who had doubtless been
1 rudto a far ' erent life from the one he fol-
owe : ’

“ Gracias, senor; I will make you comman-
der of this island, which I will ma emy strong.
hold: and, Senor Miguel l”

“ Si senor capitan,” and the young lieuten«
ant ste ped forward.

“I p ace ou in command of Ricardo’s ves-
sel,” and ca lin to the youth, who had not yet
gone on board t e schooner, he continued:

“ I would see the captives that Ricardo
brou ht here, my boy.”

“ will lead you to them—they are there on
the hillside, senor,” and the youth ointed to
the little group that had watched t e combat
with such interest.

There were not a dozen of them—a few men
who were held for ransom, others whom Ricar-
do had not known what to do with, and an offl-
cer of the United States navy, captured on board
the Sea Gull.

“My friends, you shallbe at once set free,
and given money to reach your homes—for,
though a buccaneer, I am not a monster.”

A cry of thanks went up from all, while the
naval officer stepped forward and said:

“ Senor, I have been told that you are Free-
lance the Freebeoter; in fact, I recognized your
flag and schooner, for I have often met you in
my cruises.” _

“I am Freelance, air,” was the uiet answer.

“Then you have been shameful maligned,
for rumor makes you out very d‘ erent man
from what you are,” and there were admire
tion and respect in the officer’s glance as hi

upon the splendid-looking man beforl

aping devils! cut
ed me 1”

m.

“I am what cruel Fate has made me, sir—0'
free rover a hunted man,” and he turned ab
ru tly to the youth:
hd‘fire these all .of Ricardo’s captives, my

“Excepting myself, senor, and one other, a
nun who is in the cabin in the valley.”

“I will seek her. My friends
my schooner at once, for I will sail tonight and
place you on the first inward-bound vessel Two
meet,” and Freelance walked toward the 

.1 n ‘ ,l

   
    

'inthe voile followed. .
ed'notta mam 1 by!”

 

go on board .

 

 
   
   
  
   
  
  
  
   
    
   
   
    
         
       
       
      
 
    
    
   
  
  
   
  
    
   
   
  

a:

Freelance,

 

 

 

 

{out “My lad, run on and tell the good lady that
reelance would see her, but to dread nothing."
1 as 'Ihe youth dashed ahead and entered one of
the {he huts, while Freelance followed more leisure-
'on A s he a proached the door a woman, clad in
the dress a nun, stepped out of the cabin and
in the long vail being thrown back the eyes of the
are two met.
be, A wild cry broke from the lips of the man,
and he staggered back, covering his face with
of his hands, as though to shut out some hideous '
’ specter, while the woman sunk down upon the
_,.d irOI ind in a. deep swoon.
ed
111- CHAPTER XXIV.
:3 THE NUN.
or COMPLETELY taken aback by the unexpected
it. recognition between Freelance and the nun, the
youth hardly knew what to do: but seeing that
,n \he latter most needed his aid he sprung to her
n side, and raised her head from the ground.
id lit was a strangely beautiful face, white and
1 {in re as marble, and inexpressibl sad, that met
1; ho view, and bending over her t 1e youth gazed
IS with a strange interest 11 )1) her, while a few :
e feit away stood Freelance, is hands still over
hilleves, and his form trembling.
3 Senor, the lady needs aid. There is water

in the cabin,” said the youth, hoping to arouse
1m.

Instantly the buccaneer sprung forward, and,
_ kneelin , drew the form of the nun toward
him w ile he muttered, in an absent way:

“ believed her dead; I believedher dead, yet
, slm lives—lives, yet as she is, dead to inc-dead

to me!"
. Relieved of his burden the young man ran
into the cabin and soon returned with a vase of
water and began to bathe the white face.

A sigh, a gasp and the eyes opened and met
those of the youth bendin over her. _

“ It was a dream then' 6 is not a pirate—no,
no, he could not be so vile,” she murmured, and
then her glance suddenly rested upon the man
in whose arms she was supported.

With a bound she was upon her feet, her
hands warning him off, asshe cried:

“ 0h blessed Virgin, it is too true, too true 1—
He is the monster, reelance.”

“ Lucillel”

The name was breathed softly, and Freelance
made an imploring gesture.

“Back! back, 811‘ pirate! how dare your pol-

luted hands touch me? Do on not see I am in
the robe of one who has yie ded up forever the
,1", world and its follies l”
5, “Lucille, hear me say that I thank the God 1
lo whom you kneel in prayer, that you live— l
that your death lies not 11 n in hands, as I i
have thought since that fearful nig t.”

“No, I drove the dagger to my own bosom.

,. Would to God it had kil ed me, for then I would

,-~ have never known that Launcelot Grenville had
s . become a buccaneer—that the man I once loved

 as I did my soul had won the infamous name of
Freelance, the Freebooter.”

The voice trembled, and the eyes were lower-
ed as she spoke, and the man answered, sadly:

“Lucille, I offer no palliation for my deeds.
I was the toy of an evil destiny, and have blind-
I y followed wherever Fate led me—followed it
is my sorrow, and the loss of my soul; but, un-
til the day our father fell by my hand—”

“ Hold! {nuncelot Grenville, I never knew
for along time—no, not until I was recovering
fmm the wound I ve myself, that night at my
fmiher’s grave, tha you had acted nob y in that
fat a1 meeting, and twice spared my father’s life.

’ 'In my Wild grief I was ungenerous to you,

3 ml I curled you, for my love turned to hatred; .
‘ bun that is past now, and since then I have
. mo upped you as dead—and dead you are to me,
now.

Unconsciously she had repeated the very l
Words he had spoken of her, and a shudder ‘
‘hOOk her frame as she looked up and caught his
0m! fixed 11 11 her. .

Think eaven, you do me justice in that
“f Lucilk,” he said, earnestly. ,
D mindo more than justice, Launcelot; I forgive

He would have s run to her side, but her
 look held him at bay, fnd he said, in avoice
,‘ hardly audible: -

, “ From my inmost heart I thank ou, Lucille;
I had, as the slayer of your father, lieved that
l_was your destroyer, too, after we met that
night at his grave, and bitter indeed has been
the cup of_misery held to m lips ever since;
bug n’ow life’s horizon is brightening for me,
an —-

“ Holdl Launcelot Grenville can the horizon
of life over brighten for Freelm’ice the Pirate 3’"

Her veice rung out clear, and u 11 her face
was a look of scorn, which the ‘ ty man dare
33: meet, and he bowed his hea in anagOny of

 

 ‘ ‘

‘1- 

 

 

 

 

 

    
 
   
      

  

 

me.

After a moment, he spoke: ,

“No, I had forgotten, in m jo at seeing you
c, and receiving your Kirgfveness, who I

. VIII—no, there is no hope, no”hrightn_ess in my

" ' ,gloomanddespair

 

out

 
    
 

t

that her: words  amath
,  {my

->  {i1 

a,
r.

the Buccaneer

   
  

g..-.»r’.,x,

 

heart, as she stepped to his side and laid her
hand upon his arm.

“ You reproach me for my words, Launcolot,
and I ask you to forgive them; but oh, for years,
even in the convent walls, have been told
stories of Freelance the Freebooter and his
deeds—~no, no, they cannot be true—you are
not, cannot be the hideous monster they have
painted on.”

“ Luci lo, I am bad enough, God knows, but I
am not as bad as the world would make me;
my hands are red with the blood of my fellow—
beings, and the treasure I have won is dyed
with the current of human life; yet 1 could be
worse, I could be worse.”

He shook off the hand 11 on his arm and turn-
ed away, to instantly again confront her:

“You have forever given up the world, Lu-
cille!” . '

“Yes. I went into a convent as soon as I re-
covered from my wound."

“ You are at what convent?"

“ I was sent to Havana, but am now return—
ing to the Convent des Ursulines at New Or-
leans.”

“ I will restore you to your cloister, and will
give to you a vast sum of gold for charity.”

“ It is blood-stained, Captain Freelance."

“ All gold is blood—stained, and all gold is ac-
cursed, even that which goes into the coffers of
the church," he said, almost savagely.

Then he added, coldly:

“ Whenever you are ready to go on board the
schooner I am at your service.”

“ Launcelot, you are an ry with me now.
Forgive me, and forget that have crossed your
path again; only, and I entreat you by the past,
and by your mother’s memory—by the memor
of your father whom my father placed in his
grave, and by your hope of a hereafter, to cease
this life you cad!”

She placed both hands upon his shoulders, and
azed up into his dark face entreatingly, and
or a moment he seemed deeply moved; t on he

said hoarsely: '

" ’I‘he past cannot be wiped out; the tears of
myriads of angels could never wash out my
sins; as I have sown, so will I reap! I am dead
to the world, Lucille, and myself. Come!”

He offered his arm, but she shrunk from him,
but slowly walked by his side, having drawn
her vail around over her face.

Behind them, a few paces, came the youth,
whose presence seemed to have been forgotten
by both of them.

Arriving upon the beach the men ave three
cheers for their new chief, and Due] le shrunk
away and walked hurriedly to the boat in wait

in .

giving his orders to the island commander,
and to lvez Miguel, who was to remain in the
harbor until his chief’s return, Freelance sprung
into the boat, and ten minutes after the schooner
was standing out of the inlet under easy sail,
and heading toward the 0 en sea; while upon
her decks were the rescu ca tives, berm“ iv;
their escape from the power (KM

CHAPTER XXV.

THE FATAL SHOT

 

“ SAIL ho!” I

It was the cry of the look-out from the mast-
head of the buccaneer schooner, the morning
after leaving the island stronghold.

Freelance was pacing the deck, and had,
through the whole niglit, been keeping up that
mono onous walk, w ile his passengers, as he
lcalled Ricardo’s captives, slept in his cabin be-

ow.

N c, not all of them for one lay awake listen-
ing to that firm, stead tread on the deck, and
well knowing whose s ep it was, and it echoed
dismally in her poor heart, and sent her thoughts
flying back to the Ion ago on the Mississ1ppi
shores, and bitter, seal ing tears filled her eyes,
as she compared that past with the present.

“ Sail ho!”

The c was repeated ere Launcelot looked
up, and urned his glass upon the white Wing
far awa on the horizon. . _

Steadin he watched it as it increased in. Size,
and the topsails of a large brig became vmible.

“She does not look like a merchantman, sir;
but if she is, I will lace you all on board of
her,” said Freelance, anding his glass to the
naval officer, who replied, after a searching look
at the stranger: I

“ No, Ca tain Freelance, she has a cruiser-like
look from er toghamper; but could you not
approach under g of truce?” '

“No nation, sir, will respect a pirate’s flag of
truce ” shortly answered Freelance, and he
adde :

“ I hope she is a merchant, for I know you are
anxious to be well rid of such company as you
meet on the deck of a buccaneer.”

“ You certame should feel proud of your ves-
sel and crew, as far as appearances go, captain,
for there is no better disc1pline in our navy.

“I have to rule with an iron hand, sir, or be
ruled; the commander of a buccaneer craft car-
ries his life in his hand; let him waver and he is
lost. I believe monder vessel is really a

hsntcraft, g in to New Orleans. I
'towsrd.her"audtheschoonerw.

 

 

 
 
  

      
   

 

asst...

   
   
  
  
  
  
   
    
  
  
   
  
   
     
   
  
  
     
  
  
   
   
  
   
  
   
   
   
   
   
  
    
   
    
    
  
   
   
  
    
  
   
  
     
  
   
   
  
 
   
  
   
  
  
    
 
   
   
  
    
  
    
 
  
 

once put away so as to cross the bows of the
strange sail.

At this maneuver of the buccuncer the stran-
ger instantly fell off from her course, more sail
was spread, and she darted away in fli ht.

" She is not a fighter, Captain enforth
You will soon cease to be a pirate’s guest, fix
my schooner will show on how she can run,
Crowd on sail, Senor ernandez,” cried Free-
lance. adch‘essing the officer who had taken Air f
vez Miguel‘s place, and who had been the senor
lieutenant of Ricardo.

Under the pressure of canvas the schooner
fuirl ' flew through the waters, and although
the hrig was a rapid sailer began to overhaul
her.

“That fellow looks as though he had teeth.
I hope he is not playing a game on me, for I
would dislike to iave a fight with guests on
board,” said Freelance.

Nearer and nearer the schooner drew to the
brig, until little over half a lea e separated
them, and the passengers who iad come on
deck were expecting soon to be out from under
the shadow of the black flag.

“Your glass, pleasc, Captain Freelance,” sud-
denly said Ca tain Renforth.

It was hunt ed him and be bent 8. Inn and
searching glance upon the brig, after wh oh he
said:

“Captain Freelance, did I not warn you of
danger I would not do my duty toward a man
who has rescued myself and friends from a
cruel captivity, has treated us with the greatest
kindness, and is now running his head into the
liangmnn’s halter to serve us; yonder craft is
an American brig-0111mm" .

“ I half thought so, and I thank you, Captain
Renforth; you have proven yourself a true and
humane man. Fire a gun over the brig, Senor
Hernandez, and run up our colors,” coolly said
Freelance, showing no emotion at the startling
news.

“ What! you cannot mean to fight him?” cried
Captain Rainforth. ‘ , .

‘ We are near enough to feel his weight, Cap- ‘ ‘ "
tain Rainforth, and as we will have to fight I
may as well ca )ture him, and then place you on
board and sen you to New Orleans, where he
would doubtless go to repair damages.” '

At that instant the gun flashed over the
schooner’s bows, and the gold lance flag and red
anchor ensign arose toget er into the air.

Instantly the brig swept round; the stars and
stripes went up to er peak, and the drums beat
“ to quarters.’ .

“I warned you, Captain Freelance; I have t
done my duty,” said Captain Renforth, and he
added, as the buccaneer crew stripped the
schooner for action, and wen‘lrto their guns:

“That is the Dolphin brig-of—war, twenty two
guns, and commanded by an officer lately pro—
moted for gallant conduct against the Moorish
aiiilcll Algerine corsairs; his name is Arthur Gren-
v e

At that moment a cry broke from the ll of
Lucille the nun, who stood near, and Fr once.

“In Heaven’s name? who did you say?” ‘

“ Captain Arthur Grenville.”

“ Stand ready, alli Ready aboutl' Leave:
your guns, you devils, and crowd the canvas on
until you run the schooner under!”

All were startled by the rin n , almost wild
tones of Freelance, as he issu orders, am}
the crew sprung to their posts with an acrity
that sent the schooner round as thong on a
pivot, while the extra sail, shortl before taken

in, was 5 read again, and the sw ft vessel drove.
throu h he sea with fearful velocity.

As or Captain Renforth he knew not what to
make of the sudden change in the plans of Free
lance, but felt that it was no fear to meet the»
brig, only that the name of Arthur Grenville
ha in some way struck terror to his heart.

In the meantime the brig was not idle, but
had swept about, too, and was crowding sail in .
hot pursuit. . ‘

Seeing that shewas going to open fire, Free-
lance requested .1118 guests to go below, and they
did so, excepting Captain Renforth and the
youth, who stood by the side of the chief.

{I moment more and the pufl! came from‘ the
brig’s bows, and the shut came flying after the
schooner. ‘

Then, hot and fast the cruiser poured in a fire .
u n the flying buceaneer, some of the shotc
te ling u n tiarigging, crew and hull, for they ,
were we aim .

Calmly, and with a smile hard to fathom up'
on his face, Freelance stood gain at the up
preaching vessel, while his crew had "
b

 
     
      
     
       
    
  

. . u '
1m, wondering why he did not hit back atom ' '
rig.

“ You do not return the fire of the bri sir " ~
said Captain Renforth as the murmuringgdf tlio '
meplé'wclhedilhls ears. 6 d l ’

o w never re 11

was th’e stern reply. pon you at vessel,
The men heard his words, and their voicei
w louder, while a shot sent crashing thrau ’. - '

orward, dropped several of their number 
upIon thetilech A ‘ . “‘
nstan y t ey reused andan -

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Freelance, the Buccaneer.

 

like dogs, when, if on give the word, we can
capture yonder cra t.”

“ Silence, and back to your posts you mutin-
ous hounds, or by the blue sky above us, I’ll lay
to, and surrender this schooner to yonder brig,
and put my neck in the noose with yours.”

The men saw the blazing eyes, and they knew
the gveight of that single arm, and, one voice
crie :

“The ca t’in knows best, lads; he’ll fetch us
through al right.”

Quietly the men shrunk back and stood calm-
liy at their posts, while the brig’s shot flew

angerously near their heads; but the schooner
Was gradually forging ahead, and if not hit in a.
vital 8 0t would soon be out of range.

Sud en a shot crashed through the deck, just
beneath t e feet of Freelance, and a moment
after a deep can came from the cabin.

“ The nun is wounded and would see you, sir,”
said one of the passengers, poking his scared
face up out of the com anionway.

“Great God! Lucil e, am I doomed to lead

cu to death?” groaned Freelance, and he quick-

y descended into the cabin.

l‘here upon a divan stained with her life-
blv )od, lay Lucille the nun, a splinter having
)i treed her side.

That she was dying there was no doubt and
w ,th an effort she be d forth her hand to Free-
la nee as he entered.

“ Launcelot, the end has come. I thank
Heaven that it is so, for I was tempted, in see-
ing you once more, to forget the past, forget
what you are and—and—love—you. ’

She spoke in a low tone audible to him alone,
as he knelt by her side and grasped her hand.

“ Oh, LuCille, do not speak of the past, and
for the future I have no hope,” he said, sadly.

“ Launcelotr—promise me—oh, God! I have
not the strength to ask you—” a shudder passed
over her, her face became ashen in hue, and one
word broke from her li s as the breath left her
bod —-the saddest of a words—farewell.”

'l e haughty head of the pirate chief was
bowed for an instant and in hoarse tones he
muttered:

“At last! at last! one by one they go and I
am left—why?”

Throwing a silken scarf over the face, Free—
lance returned to the deck and mechanically
swe 1: his eyes around him.

T e brig was still firing upon the schooner,
but her last shot that had struck had been the
fatal one, for the distance was now becoming
too great for the range of the guns.

“ heard that the beautiful nun is badly
wounded, Captain Freelance.

“ She is dead, sir,” said. Freelance, in reply to
Captain Renforth.

“ ho!” rung out from the fore-top, and
just in their course was a large vessel heading
toward them; but soon after the schooner was
discovered by the stranger and immediately
put away in rapid flight.

v “Yonder craft is a merchantman, Captain
‘xenforth, so you and your friends will soon be
“pon an honest deck,” said Freelance, and so

lpidly did the schooner gain upon the chase
that within two hours after being discovered 8.
$201; was sent after her, and taking the hint she

y to.

“ Her commander evidently thinks you are a
cruiser, Captain Freelance, or he would have
flood on longer,” said Captain Renforth.

In a minute a boat was launched and manned
and the passengers went over the side into it,
each thankin Freelance for his kindness to
them, while aptain Renforth said:

“ The Government shall know of you as you
Ire Captain Freelance, and I hope we may meet
Ignin. Good-by.”

The two men gras hands, and the next mo-
ment the boat ulle to the side of the ship.

f‘ Heston bac , coxswain, for if we delay we
Will. at under range of the brig once more,”
calla out Freelance, and the men pulled with a
Will, and soon returned, having left the passen-
gers on board. .

“ Now lay her on her course again—head for
Vera Cruz, ’ ordered Freelance, and he descend-
ed into the cabin to start back, suddenly.

" You here? Why did you not go with the
others?"

It was the youth he addressed, and he sat by
«he Side of the dead Lucille.

“ I preferred to remain with you, senor,” was
the low reply. I.

“My poor boy, a buccaneer craft is not the
place for one hke you,” said Freelance, kindly.

“Nor you, senor.”

“ ; but go on deck, and tell the Senor
Hernandez to have all read for the burial of
this lady as soon as it is dar .”

The youth left the cabin, and Freelance took
his seat by the side of the beautiful corpse, his
hand restinor upon hers, and his eyes gazmg list-
lessly out of the stern port.

Thus sitting, he saw the merchant vessel lay
to and await the coming up of the brig-of-war,
commanded by his own brother, Arthur Gren-
ville—that brother who, on the coast of Africa,

ears before, he had so befriended, and whom,
ghough he had never harmed him b word or

‘ct, he cared never in to meet, forhe shrunk
tom the thought wit horror that he

 

known as a pirate, and bring shame upon his
proud name.

Attentively regarding the two vessels, he saw
a. boat pass to and fro between them, and then
they both got under way again and shaped their
course, apparentl ,for New Orleans, the brig
having given up t e chase.

“ Can he know that I command this vessel?”

“ No, that were impossible, I think, as he be-
lieves me dead. He has seen that it is useless to
attempt to catch my schooner, fleet as is his ves-
sel,” and Freelance gazed out over the waters
at the fading brig-of-War until twilight settled
down upon the sea, and he could no longer dis—
cern an outline of the vessel that held his
brother.

Then out of the Gulf arose the moon, sending
a pathway of “golden light across the rippling
waves, et 0 y deepening the sadness in the
heart 0 the hunted man.

Upon the lounge lay the dead form of Lucille
Darrington, her white face lighted up by ‘the
rays of moonlight that came through the stern
ports.

\Vith a groan of bitter agony he drop ed
down beside the woman who had been the rst
love of his life, and his strong form shook with
emotion.

“ Dead! dead! and through my act! 0h,
Heaven! What a curse rests upon me, for my
hand blights every bein it touches, and my
love is more to be feare by them than my
hatred.

“ Poor girl! She survived that fearful wound,
given by her own hand at the grave of her
father that night, to die here in my presence;
she escaped the dangers of bein the risoner of
that monster Ricardo, to meet er eath upon
my vessel when I sought to save her~ay, and
die by the fire ordered by my own brother.

“Oh, God! it seems as though were I to go

. mad it would be a relief from the tortures I suf-

fer, for Fate drives me on with cruel lash and
there is no rest for me here on earth—:ay, and
will there be hereafter?”

For a few moments he was silent, and then he
added, in a subdued tone:

“ Poor Lucille! Now we must part forever,
and the deep sea shall be your resting-place.”

Then springing to his feet he cried:

“ N o, no, no, the sea shall not receive your
fair form—I will do it! ,

“ Hol the deck!" he suddenly called out.

Lieutenant Hernandez immediately appeared
in the complanionway.

“Senor end at once for Lake Pontchartrain,
and crowd the schooner from deck to truck with
canvas!” _

“ Ay, ay senor capitan,” answered the lieu-
tenant, and the schooner was at once put away
for the destination ordered, and getting the
Wind free bounded along at a nine—knot pace.

CHAPTER XXVI.
THE MIDNIGHT BURIAL.

THE surf fell with a low, moaning sound upon
the Mississippi shores, and the light wind only
now and then formed a wave into a snowy cap,
which broke into diamond showers under the
bri ht moonlight.

be long sweep of the dark shores, lighted up
here and there with the villa of the planter, was
as quiet as the grave, exce t when the long
bowl of some sleepless watch 0g echoed through
the forest, and was answered by the deep bay
of a hound on the neighboring plantation.

It was nearing the midni ht hour, and the
lights had disappeared from t e windows of the
villgs, and no sign of life was visible upon the
lan .

Yet, upon the sea a white sail was seen—a
schooner gliding shoreward like some huge
phantom of the waves and heading for a cove
formed by a point of land that jutted out into
the Gulf.

Nearer and nearer the vessel came, until,
when Within a few cables’ length of the whiie
beach, it lufled up into the Wind and lay rock-
ing upon the tiny waves.

A few moments after a large boat put out
from its side, urged on by eight oarsmen with
slow, steady stroke.

In the stem-sheets sat two forms, while be—
tween them rested a coffin, the rude casket
that was to be consigned to the earth with the
remains of some loved one. ‘

Presently the boat grated upon the shore,
and the two men in the stern-sheets sprung out
upon the sands, while four of the oarsmen
gently raised the coffin and stood awaitingin
Silence.

“ Comel"

It was the taller of the two men who had been
seated in the stern of the boat that spoke, and
his voice was deep and stern, and his face cold
and white, as the moonlight fell upon it.

Leading the way, his companion by his side,
and followed by the bearers of the coffin. and
oarsmen bringing up the rear, he ascended the
pathway to the cliff above, and halted a mo-
ment in a small grove of fpines.

But only the sighing o the wind through the
tree and the dirge-like fall of the waves upon
the s ore were heard, and he walked slowly on.

Coming to a highway he again paused and

should be - glanced up and down,.as though expecting, or

 

i,

v

dreading to see some midnight traveler: but"

not a moving ob'ect met the eye, and the little
cortege again we ed on with solemn tread.

Passing through a gateway, crumbling with
a e, the leader, as though knowng every step
0 the we , led on through the weed—grown
paths of w at had once been a beautiful arden,
and skirted around the mansion whic stood
dark, gloomy and silent as the tomb, a short
distance away.

Crossing an open lawn, now rank with wild
grass, the party soon disappeared in the sha-
dows of a grove of willow, cedar and arbor-
vitae trees.

But the moonlight struggled throu h the foli-
age and glimmered upon white mar 19 tombs,
showing that the lonely spot was a burying-
ground.

“Halt!” ’

The men obe ed the order and placed “the
rudel —made co upon the ground.

“ ere, men, get to work; dig the grave
here!”

The four onrsmen, who had been carrying
spades and shovels upon their backs, came for-
ward to the designated spot and began to dig a
grave beside one which was overgrown with
weeds, showing that no loving hand had been
near to keep it green.

One little ray of light fell 11 on the tomb, and
rested upon the name of Fred Darrington,
showing who it was that lay beneath the weed-
gronn mound.

Quickly the men threw up the dark loam,
while their comrades stood in silence around,
all impressed by the scene.

~Apart, gazing upon the coflin, his arms fold-
ed upon his breast, stood Freelance, and the
youth who was at his side started as he heard
the words break unconsciously from his lips:

“When I placed that man in his grave I
wrecked my whole future life.”

Deep down into the earth dug the seamen, un— ‘

til the coxswain approached his chief and said
that all was ready.

“ Lower the coffin into the grave, coxswain
and then fill it up,” was the low order, and
there was a tremor in the voice, in spite of the
self—command of the speaker.

“ No, no, though I am not one of her faith, I
know the burial service for the dead; let me re-
peat it over her grave.”

It was the youth who spoke, and he gazed up
earnestly into the face of the chief.

u You 11!

“ Yes, I am but a boy; but I hate to see her
shut forever from human sight Without some
words of burial at her grave.’

The stem man started, and a sneer mo-
mentarily curled his lip; but his better nature
con tiered, and he said in a kindly tone:

“ 0 on, boy. Ho] , coxswain; this youth
will repeat the service for the dead.”

As he spoke he removed his hat, and the men
at once dofl"(d their tarpaulins, while the youth
stepped to the head of the open grave, into
which the coffin was lowered as tenderly as
though the form within was yet alive.

Then in a voice that trembled slightly, but
which was distinct and impressive, the youth
repeated the burial-service of the Episcopal
church, and to the surprise of all, at the words,
“ Earth to earth, and ashes to ashes,” Freelance
stooped and threw upon the coffin handfuls of
loose dirt, which fell with a hollow, mournful
sound that sent a chill through the hearts of
even the reckless men who stood grouped near
with uncovered heads.

At last the outh’s voice died away and a.
dead silence fe u on all, which was broken by
the long, mournfu how] of a dog at a neighbor-
ing lantation.

“ ill in the gravel” said Freelance, uncon-
sciously starting at the dismal sound and the
men, seemin ly anxious to leave the spot,
shoveled in t e loose earth, and the grave was
soon complete.

Turning to the youth, whom he had named
Skip, upon account of his bright and graceful
wa of moving, Freelance said:

‘ Lead the men back tothe boat, and await
me there.”

Taking up their shovels the men slowly de-
parted, leaving their chief gazing sadly upon
the newly-made mound.

When they were gone he drew from beneath
his heavy cloak a wooden cross, and into which
was carved most skillfully the following in-
Scription:

“IN MEMORY or
“ LUCILLE.
“Keep yourselves from Idols.”

This cross be placed at the head of the grave,
and then strode away with quick, firm tread,
his eyes cast down, his lips set.

At the highway he paused and said, sadly:

“Oh, that I dared visit my boyhood’s home:
No, no it would unman me; iron heart that I
ES, it would make me a weak child again.

I

He darted suddenelgr back into the shadow of
the gloria—mwndi h go that bordered the road,

and crouched down in silence, as a horseman
in sight, coming toward him at a slow

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trot, his eye
schooner ly
“It is Bel
he shut tee

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Startling
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steed and I

But, beft
iron-like 1
horse was

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dueling pi:

Taken 8

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Freelance, the Buccaneer.

21

 

trot, his eyes turned upon the white sails of the
schooner lying to in the cove.
“ It is Bernard Lysle,” came in ahlss through
he shut teeth of Freelance, and he arose to his
a cot and grasped a pistol firmly in his hand.

 

CHAPTER XXVII.
REVE NGE IS s WEET.

“ HALTX or I fire I”

Startlineg clear and thnatening the stern

order came upon the crisp air, frightening both
steed and rider.
_ But, before the horseman could dash away an
iron-like asp
horse was urled back upon his haunches, and
at the rider’s heart pointed the muzzle of a long
dueling pistol.

Taken at a disadvantage the horseman had
V‘t one alternative—to surrender, and he said,
in trembling tones:

” I will not resist, my good fellow; but what
means this attack on the highway ?”

He was a man verging on fifty, and possessed
a large form and a ace that was stamped with
a certain look of cruelty and cunning.

Well dressed, and mounted upon a fine ani-
mal, he was evidently a man of wealth, and sup-

d that a desire to rob him had caused him
be thus halted.

“ Bernard Lysle, it means that you are known
to me, and Fate, ever cruel to me, has been
most kind to me tonight, in leading you into
my pgwer.”

‘ God’s name who are you, and how have
I harmed you?” cried the now thoroughly
alarmed man.

“Ha! ha! have the years of crime which I
have led so changed my face that you fail to
recognize the man whom you hated when he
was a mere boy, because he opposed your mar-
riage with his mother?”

“ Heaven have mercy! You are Launcelot
oaned the man; then he
added qinckly: “ I bought you were dead.”

“ It would have been well for you had I been
dead. Yes, Bernard Lysle, I am Launcelot
Grenville that was; now I have buried that

' name forever, as I have another which suits me

better.”

“ I do not understand you, my dear Launce—
lot' on talk wildl , and do not seem well.”

‘I goward! you our me, and doubtless deem
me mad; but that I am not mad is not our
fault, for you it was who made me what am,
and so deemed to put me out of the way that

on caused me to be accused of a. crime too base

dwell on—caused me tc be tried for my
brother’s life and, sitting in judgment upon

' me, you so influenced the jury that they brought

in a verdict of guilt against me—ay, and you
it was that sentence me to be hung for having
slain Arthur Grenville, who came back after
my flight to face you and hurl the lie into the
teeth of my accusers.”

“ Forgive me, Launcelot; I decided with the
evidence, and God knows I am sorry for it all,
and delighted that you escaped from the terri-
ble death I sentenced you to.”

“ Your words are as false as your heart, Judge
Lysle; but come, dismount and go with‘me.”

“ Where?” asked the now thoroughly alarmed
man.

“ Do you see yonder schooner in the basin?”

6‘ 'YesV 7’

“That is my vessel; I would have you accom-
pan me there.” .

“ hen you are still in the Mexican serv1ce,
Launcelot, for I notice that it is a vessel-of-
ware”

“ No, I serve only myself and my crew; I
have no home but my deck, go with the winds
from north to south, from east to west, follow
no man’s lead, and own no country or flag.”

“Great heavens! you cannot mean that—”

“ Have You ever heard of Freelance the Buc-
cancer?”

_" Yes, often; we are in daily terror that he
W111 swoop down upon our coast.”

“ He has done so; I am Freelance the Bucca-
116.61,, and whom men also call the Cavalier Cor-
sair.

Judge Bernard Lysle turned an ashen hue and
we}? in his Lsgddle.

o no, uncelot- it cannot; be that on are
that vile man.” , y
‘ speak the truth, and on are my prisoner,

g; sle.” y
“ elp! help! for the love of God, help I”

The loud cry of the frightened man rung out
clear and distinct upon the night air, and the
bark of a dozen watch-dogs answered it; but
over his mouth was ressed a hand of steel, an-
other clutched his t roat, and he was dragged
from his saddle, while a kick sent. the horse rush-
ing homeward at full speed. .

‘ Ah, m brave lads, you thought I was in
danger. o, I have captured a man whom I
Wish you to hear at onceto the boat,” said Free-

ce, coolly, and the alarmed man was drag—
8Bd away, while Freelance slowly followed.-

' into the Boat, the oarsmen se
then-oars and pulled rapidly from the. shore,
and soon ran alongside the sc ooner, which im-
mediately stood seaward.

,,
i
i “ Senor Hernandez, rig a platform amidships

find call the crew to witness an execution,” was

.‘.‘i.'<14l‘\- -

 

was upon his bridle—rein his.

 

the stern order of Freelance, as he stepped on
deck, and he turned to Bernard Lysle, who
groaned as he heard the command.

“Judge Lysle, the sentence of death which
you would have meted out to me, I intend now
to visit upon you.”

“Mercy, Launcelotl
mercy upon me.”

“Did you show mercy to me when you had
me in your power? No! You desired me to be
removed from your way, behaving my mother
would marry you were I dead, and that you
would possess the property that was mine and
my brother’s.

“An appeal was made to you to postpone my
sentence, and yet you refused it, and so deliv~
ered your charge to the ju that, as tools in
your bands, they pronounce me ilty of be-
ing a very Cain, and that I escape death was
not our fault.

H at I am that act of yours made me, and
revenge is sweet to me, and you shall die; you
Eage’lmt ten minutes to make your peace with

‘0 .

Turnin away Freelance paced the deck, his
face utter 37 merciless, and his eyes cast down,
while the oomed man groveled in abject terror
at the fate he so feared to face.

Near b stood the youth, Skip, his face very
pale, an a look of pity in his eyes for the poor
wretch; yet he dared not ask Freelance to spare
him, for he well knew it would be utterly use-

ess.

“ All is ready, senor capitan,” and Lieu-
tenant Hernandez ap reached his chief.

“ Bind that man’s ands, and detail six sea-
men as executioners; he is to be shot. ”

The order was obeyed, and then the lien-
tenant called to Bernard eIaysle to accompan
him to the platform erect upon the lee bul-
w

or .

“Oh, Launcelot, spare me! I sinned deeply
in what I did to you, but be merciful and or-
give me. ”

No answer came to the
the wretched man continue
“ Launcelot, I entreat you, by the love you
bore our mother, and our ather, to spare
me! ou have not cea tohave a heart, so do
not let me die.”

Even the wild, sava crew were moved b
the pleading tones of t e man, and Ski hid his
face with his hands and ran into the ea in; but
Freelance was deaf to the cutreaty, and in a
metallic voice he said:

“You plead in vain Bernard Lysle; place
him in position, Senor Hernandez.”

The shrieking1 wretch was draggfild away and
placed upon t e platform, in a eeling pos-
ture, for is limbs refused to sustain his weight.

“ Ready there, men!”

At the command of Freelance the six execu-
tioners raised their weapons and the doomed
man broke out in a pitiful cry for mercy.

But it was useless; Freelance held no mercy
in his heart.

“Aim! Fire!”

A wild shriek, a volley of musketry, and Ber-
nard Lysle sunk in a heap upon the platform,
then attem ted to rise, and fell backward into
the sea, to isa pear forever beneath the dark
waters, while is e swift schooner rushed on, as
though anxious to leave in her wake the spot
Where a human being had sunk from life into a.
grave far, down beneath the waves.

For Heaven’s sake have

glee/ding tones, and

 

CHAPTER XXVIII.
AN UNEXPECTED DENOUEMENT.

IT was a dark, misty night a few weeks after
the visit of the buccaneer schooner to the Mis—
sissippi shores, and a fog like a heavy vail hung
over the sea, shutting out wholly from view
the lights of the city of Vera Cruz in the dis-
tance, and even the signal lanterns u on the
battlaments of the Castle San Juan do on.

Upon the waters rode at anchor at small fish-
ing-smack, her crew of three men busy with
their nets, and little dreaming of any vessel
near at hand, for they were not in the channel
leading into the harbor.

But suddenly, out of the dense gloom ap-
peared the shadow outline of a large schooner,
and above her dec s towered a mass of snowy
canvas, which brought to their lips a cry of
alarm and warning to those upon the strange
craft.

The sharp bows of the schooner swung quick-
ly clear of the fishing-craft, just in time to pre-
vent running her down, and as the vessel swept
11 into the Wind and lay to, a stern voice order-
ed the fisherman to come alongSide, an order
which was promptly obeyed.

“ The captain wishes to seegou. Skip, show
the man into the cabin,” said enor Hernandez,
meeting the commander of the fishing-craft at
the angway.

“E'i, senor; but you ve us a terrible fright.”
said the Mexican, f0 owing the youth who
ushered him into the schooner’s cabin, where
Freelance sat at a table, above which hung a
silver lamp.

Glancing u as the Mexican entered, he said:

“My man, have been nightl on the watch
for some of you fishermen, and have gold to
pay fora service Iwish you to render mo.

 

You are willing to aid me if I am liberal with
you, are you not?”

“ Si, senor capitan.”

“ Your little craft soils in and oufi 0f the har-
bor unchallenged, I suppose T!”

“ No senor; we are challmgal by the guard-
boats, ut we are given me countersign when
we come out to fish.”

“Good! and you can run in and out of the
harbor at your will .4”

“ Si, senor capitan.”

“ How many men have you on your craft
with on!”

“ y two sons only, senor.”

“Very good; you will let them come on
board my schooner'and await your return here,
while you run me upto Vera Cruz, for which
service I will give you a hundred esos.”

“ Oh, senor l” cried the delight man.

“ But listen: I go on secret business, and I
wish no one to know that I am in town, and I
will wear a storm suit like your own. If you
betray my presence to any one you will never
see your sons again, but serve me well and I
will ive you another hundred pesos.”

“ will serve on faithfully, senor capitan
but you will not arm my armor boys?”

“Not unless you inten harm to me. 
and get your craft ready, and I will soon 10m

on

The fisherman left the cabin, add a few mo-
ments after Freelance came on deck, dressed In
a boatman’s suit, and wearing a false beard.

“Samar, please let me accompany yon, I beg
of ou.’

reelance turned, and at his side stood the
outh.

y 11an become attached to the boy, Free.

lance sai , kindly: .

“ 'g yourself out in a coarse suit and come
along.’

The outh gladly obe ed, and soon aftertbe
old fls erman, With 11 s two passen ers, was
headin through the loom toward era Cruz,
while e schooner too easy tacks under short-

ened sail.

Challenged by the rd-boats the Mexican
fisherman replied wit the watchword for the-
night, and said he was returning for his nets,
and in safety the little craft reached the docks,
where Freelance and Skip sprun ashore.

“Await me here, my man. will be gone
perhaps an hour, and it may be longer: but re-
member, on do not speak of my coming, or a
schooner in the offing! ’

“ I remember, senor; I love my boys too well
to get them into trouble.”

‘ And gold too, I guess. Come, Ski .”

Up the dark street the two went, an as they
turned into one of the principal thoroughfares,
Freelance said, absently:

“ It is a sad duty I came here to perform, and
my heart aches to have to tell poor Delbanco I
can learn noth' of his daughter’s fate; but I
must not shrink rom it, pain ul though it be.”

Skip made no reply, or he knew it was a
habit of Freelance to frequently speak aloud
to himself, and a few moments’ longer walk
brought them to the J ew’s house.

It was not yet midnight, and Delbanco, who
had not retired, answered the knock promptly.

“It is too late, senor, for purchases,” he said,
abruptly, as his eyes fell upon the apposed
fisherman.

“ But not to welcome a friend, Senor Del-
banco,” said Freelance, stepping across the
threshold.

“ The Senor—”

“ Hold! do not breathe that name here, Jew,
for Mexican walls are filled with ears. Come
in, Ski .”

“ And my daughter—mi beautiful Juanita,
senor' you did not bring er?” said Delbanco,
as he led the wa into the salon.

“My poor De banco, I will tell you all,” and
Freelance made known- his visit to the island of
Ricardo, and the result.

“ The few captives I found there I sent on to
New Orleans by a merchant vessel excepting a
poor nun, who was killed by a shot from an
American brig that chased me, and this youth,
who says he never saw a person answering your
daughter’s description in the power of Ricardo;
but have you learned nothing yourself regard-
ing her?"

“ No. no, senor; those who went out on the
Sea Gull have not yet returned, and I am heart-
broken; my life has no value now, for the bright-
ness of existence has gone from me,” and the
Jew bowed in bitter grief.

“ Father!”

“ Hark! My daughter’s voice! She calls me:
and Delbanco stag ered to his feet.

“Father, it was that called you. See, I am
your Juanita.”

The . youth suddenly confronted him, and
throwmg aside the false mustache, Juanita Dol-
banco was revealed!

——

CHAPTER XXIX.
A sum snow.
In an ecstac of 'o atthestartlin discovery
of his dearly bzlovgdydaughm in thg
youth Skip, the old Jew pruned her 1%

  
 

 

 

   

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Freelance, the Buccaneer.

 

 

Minn to his heart, while Freelance, also taken
w olly aback, stood looking on in unfeigned
surprise. .

" 0h, senor, you have then only been trying
to make my joy reater, by first deceiving me,’
cried Delbanco, ‘ond have indeed brought my
child back to my heart,”

“Senor Delbanco, I have brought your child
back, yes; but I pledge you my honor, up to
this moment I believed her a. be , and she has
inost cleverly deceived me, and Ion board th
chooner.”

“ Forgive me, senor, for the deception and for
all I found out while in my disguise as your
cabin boy Ski ; but I ,will explain how it was
that I assume the disguise that has certame
served me well.

“When I sailed for New Orleans I carried
with me several disguises, not knowing what
might hap n to cause me to use them, and de-
termined, if overtaken by free rovers, not toap—
pear in my true character.

“When our captain said it was Ricardo the
pirate. chasing us, I got the stewardess to cut off
my long hair and dressing in these clothes,
With the aid of a false mustache appeared as a
youth of eighteen, and such all beheved me, for

even escaped your searchin eyes, and Ricardo
believed he told the truthw en he said there

vas no maiden answering my description cap—
I‘r‘ed on board the Sea Gull.
Consequenuylwastraatedasmoof the
sale passengenhond not subjected to the In-
AIRS that would ave been heaped upon me had
they known me to be a woman.”

‘ You acted with wonderful presence of
mind, senorita, and did perfectly right,” re-
marked Freelance gazing with admiration up-
on her, as she continued:

“To protect my good name I kept 111p my
masquerade after we were taken to t e irate
Island, and to you, Senor Freelance, I owe it
that I am again restored to my father’s arms.
Am I for iven the deco tion, senor?” and
Juanita too the hand of eelance and gazed
up‘iiito hiséggce. _ _ u d h

use many disguises myse an ave
found them too useful, to feel hurt when others
deceive me in the same wa . You are more
than forgiven, senorita,” an Freelance spoke
meaningly, as he had not forgotten another
inaSflperading freak of J uanita’s, that had saved
is 6.

Almost stunned by all he heard, it was some
time before Delbanco could s k; but at length
he found his tongue and ma 8 his daughter tell
him over and over again of her adventures, af-
ter which the three sat down to a. sumptuous re-

past.

After uite a long stay, Freelance took his
leave of t e kind Jew and his daughter, and as
he held the small hand of Juanita in his own, he
felt it tremble, while her eyes filled with tears,
for she had learned to madly love the strange,
handsome man, buccaneer though he was.

Leavin the J ew’s house, Freelance walked
rapidly a ong, and soon came to the home of the
Mexican woman,where dwelt the only being that
held him to life—his boy.

He knocked upon the door, and it yielded to
his touch.

He entered, and all was dark within.

Then a low moan came to his ears, and he
quickly drew a small dark lantern from his

ket.
pothat a sight then met his gaze—a sight that
made him reel like adrunken man, and a. cry of
:1 'sh burst from his lips. v
Egon the floor in front of him was Allene,
is nurse, and she was dead. _
A wound was 11 on her temple, and her pulse
was forever stille .
By the door, prone upon her back, lay the old
Mexican woman, gas ing and dying. .
Instantly he knelt ide her,  by the bib-l:
of the lantern she recognized him in spite of ’

ise.
‘ Too late. senor—too late! He is gone,” she
murmured.
“Gone! My boy! is he dead, woman?”

I “No, oh, no; some old enemy of yours—one
you once severely punished on your vessel, has
dgggfid your steps, and sought your boy. We
f g ’t for him, but it was of no avail—he has

one. ‘

“ And where?”
The voice was startlingly distinct, and the
eyes were lurid; but the face was now perfectly

“ He was a seaman senor; he carried the no-
his little fellow with him.”

“‘Then upon the seas will I look for him, and
woe betide the man that has done me this
wrong.” .

Rising to his feet he strode from the room and
the house, wholly forgetful of the dying woman.

With re. id step he retraced his way to the
home of e Jew, and there Delbanco and Ju-
anita heard the strange stor of his marriage to
a! Persian, her death, and o the little boy.

“ Here Jew here are 'ewels worth a king’s
ransom,’ and Freelance hrewa handful of pre-
cious stones upon the table. _

“Take these and let gold go out like water,

trace of my boy; I will look,

  
 

,«l.
1

  

“Find him, Delbanco, and I will make your
dau hter the wealthiest maiden in Mexico.
“ be dying woman and the dead nurse, oor

Aflenp, lie in the cabin—see to them. are-
well.
He turned abruptl and left the house and a

quarter of an hour ater the fishermanls boat
was flying seaward, Freelance silent, stern, sor-
rowing, crouched down in the cockpit.

A rapid run and the little craft sighted the
schooner, and was soon alongside.

“ Your name?” he said, abruptly, as he sprung
on deck.

“ Pedro Ramez, senor captain.”

“Then when you. receive word from me, come
with your craft to the place I designate, and I
will enrich you. Here is gold for you.”

He tossed him a purse, containing more than
he had promised, and, as the fishing-boat swung
loose, the buccaneer schooner headed out into
the open Gulf.

 

CHAPTER XXX.
THE WAIF OF THE WAVE.

ADRIFT upon the ocean—a waif upon the wa-
ters—an oarless boat tossed about by the waves,
and within, a hideous crew—for four were dead,
and one seemed hardly alive, and his haggard
face, as the bright moonlight fell upon it, told
of his sufferings.

But succor is at hand, for, over the moonlit
wate copies a. lar schooner, her sails spread
to calt'dh t e light reeze, and her sharp prow
cutting the waves Without a ripple.

Groups of men, in uniform, are u n the
decks, the guns are run out of the blac orts,
ready for action, and the craft has a weir , wild

look.

“A boat adrift ahead, senor,” calls out the
man in the foretop.

“Ay, ay; steer for it, helrnsrnan,” was the
quiet answer, and the officer continued his steady
walk from starboard to port.

Lufling up a few points as it passed the boat,
the men of the schooner seized the little craft,
and then almost let it go, with cries of horror,
as their eyes fell upon the hideous freight it
carried.

“There are four dead men and one alive in
the boat, senor,” reported a sailor.

“Throw the dead overboard, and carry the
living one into in cabin,” was the order, and
it was promptly o eyed, the dead bodies dash-
ing up the spray in silvery showers as they
struck the water.

“ He is in a bad Way, senor, but a likely lad,”
reported a sailor who had aided in bearing the
survivor into the cabin.

With an effort the officer seemed to arouse
himself from his deep reverie, and entered the
cabin, where a slender, emaciated form lay
upon a loun e, the eyes wide 0 en and staring,
the face flus ed with fever, an the lips mutter-
ing in delirium.

‘Poor b0 i” and the officer bent over him
and the ligh falling full upon his face displayed
the dark, stern visage of Freelance the Free—
booter grown more severe, harder, and with
the hair and mustache turned to iron—gray in
the ten years that have passed since the reader
last beheld him, the night he discovered that his
little son had been taken from him.

And in those ten years the name of Freelance
had become known far and wide as the most
daring freebooter afloat, for seeming to bear a
charmed life, he had escaped every cruiser sent
in pursuit of him, and, though his island rendez-
vous had been attacked and destroyed, his other
vessels captured, he eluded all pursuit, and made
his name a terror upon the land and seas.

As he bent over the youth, a word that passed
the arched lips came to his ears.

“ od in Heaven! What name was that he
spokel” he cried, springing back as though an
adder had struck at him.

A ain the 1i 3 parted:

“ one! Ilene!” '

Instantly ‘the boy’s woolen shirt was tom
0 en, and there above the heart, tattooed into
t 6 white flesh, was a blood-red anchor!

“ Oh, Heaven, I thank Thee! my boy! my boy!
I have found in boy,” and bending over t e
emaciated form t e strong man, whose name all
men feared, whose deeds of crime were untold,
and who defied death, sobbed as though his very
heart was torn asunder.

_ At length he grew more calm, and gazed lov-
ingly into the aggard face, his own scarcely
ess so.

“ Merle, my noble son, after ten lon ears I
have found you— on, whom I believ , ' c all
others I had love , forever lost to me.

“ Yes, there over your heart is the red anchor, .
the emblem of your mother’s race, which I tatr
tooed on you, lon years ago in Vera Cruz.

“Ah how my eai'tis stirred with joy this
night; but I forget that you are weak and suf-
ferin , and your brow burns with fever; but
you s all not die—no I will not let you die,”
and Freelance, from that night, hung overthe
bedside of his son, until he saw that all danger
was and that the boy would live.

“ es he will live,” he cried, joyously—“ live
to adden my- heart.”

 

       

l
u hisbrow at once clouded a '
“j I my heart can know no

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not tell him that I am his father—that he 0W
his beincr to Freelance the Buccaneer.

“ Noj will not tell him, and yet I will wri
for him a confession of my life and tell h' -
What a toy Fate has made of rue—what a we
of the wave I have been, drifting like an oarle 1
beat upon a tempest-tossed sea. 

“Then, if harm befalls me—and sooner n
later it must come—he will know who and what
he is and I will enrich him beyond all men, for
I will tell him how to find the Treasure Isle
which I left that faithful slave to guard, year:
ago, and which I have never had the heart to
Visit since.

“Ah, but my boy will be a prince in riches, 4
when he receives the inheritance of his mother,
now hidden on the Treasure Isle, and the wealth
I leave him, and which has cost rivers of blood. ,
Bali! all gold is blood-stained, and every gem i
we wear has graced fingers that are now but 1
bones.” 5

He turned away from his bitter contempla‘ ‘
tions, and approached the lounge uponfiwhich?
his son lay, wonderfully improved m t e two“,
weeks he had been on the schooner. ., I

“Well, my young friend you will soon be i
yourself again,” he said, 0 eerily, gazing ear- ,
nestly upon the youth who in face and form
was strangely like his father.

“Yes, senor, thanks to your kind care; but is
this an American vessel-of war?”
ever flag that floats, but fighting un er but
one,’ rec lessly answered Freelance.

“And that flag is—”

“ One as black as the hearts of the men who
uphold it," savagely replied the chief.

“Senor! can it be that this is a buccaneer?”
cried the youth in surprise.

“ It is; am Freelance the Buccaneer.”

The boy started and gazed curiously upon the
man before him, and then there was admiration
in his look, as he said:

“ The name is well known, senor, and yet,

der that you bear another name.”

“ And what is that, pray?”

“ The Cavalier Corsair; for it is said you ne<
ver harm a woman or a child, and war only
against men. ”

but, tell me, how was it I found you at sea in
an open boat, with four dead companions?”
aske Freelance, as though anxious to change
the subject of conversation. -

“ I was second mate of an English vessel, sir,
trading in the Indies, and we were wrecked in
a hurricane and had to take to our boats with
out food or water and my companions died
from starvation an suffering.”

“ You have a strong constitution to outlive
men like them, and you are very young to have
been mate of a vesse .”

have picked u knowledge abou e sea until I
am a good sai or,” modestly answered the boy.

“And your paaents, where are they?” .

“ I have no parents, senor. Long years ago I
remember having a home, and some terrible
scene, what I cannot recall, is connected with
it; but I have been, eVer since a wee bo , a
sailor, knocked about the world and drif3t'ing
gun’ship to ship until I have no nationality, or

a .
“ Then you shall remain with me, boy, and I
will be as a father to you. Do not say me na ,
but romise to remain,” and Freelance spo e
plea iiigly.

Im ressed by his strange, earnest manner,
and thankful tohim for what he had done for
him the youth, who had said his name was
Merle answered: '

“While I am with you, senor, I will serve
you all I can; but I beg of you to let me leave
he schooner when good opportunity offers, for
I lookto a higher aim in life—forgive me if I
hurt you—than being a pira ."

“By Heaven! boy, your aim in life shall rise
above a pirate deck, and, ere very lon I will
go with you from the mad scenes my ' e has

nown in the bitter est—I will go with you to
a far-away home, w are new associations will
cause me to forget the past and live for the
future. . '

“ But Merle, until I haul down the black dog
from a ve my head, I wishyou to remain
with me, and I Will make you one of my
officers.”

And Freelance was as true as his word, for in
spite of the dark brows of his angry crew, and
frownin glances of his other officers, he made
Merle a 'eutenant onboard the Buccaneer craft.

 

CHAPTER XXXI.

THE STROKE FALLS AT LAST. 3

SIX months have assed away since the Walt
of the Wave, ick u in an o n boat at sea,
was discove bythe avalier orsairtobehis
own son, his little Merle, for whom he had
searched so long without sauces, after the fatal
‘night when he had visited
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“That is about the only truth ever told of ‘
me. I am no monster in human shape, boy; '

“ I am as hardy as a pine trfihsenor, and I ‘

     

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spared no trouble or gold to search for the miss-
ing boy; but ever came back the same dread
answer:

“ N o tidings of the child.”

At last Fate had drifted him in the path of his
father’s vessel, and the two were united once
more, though Merle knew not the tie that bound
them, yet seemed strangely drawn toward the
dark, stern corsair chief.

In the six months that had elapsed since Merle
had been an oflicer on board the schooner he
had proven himself a thorough seamen; but
still he was not popular, either with his brother
officers or his men, for they hated the idea of a
mere boy being placed over them.

Freelance knew well their feelings. yet it
made no difference to him, other than to cause
luin to rule them more severely, and wholly dis-
re ard their mutteriugs.

ut the storm was gathering, and the end
must come that would fall heavily upon the iron
hand that had so long ruled that wild and sav-
age horde.

Buccaneering was early becoming more dan-
gerous, prizes were ess frequently found easy
prey, and when taken were of far less value
than the richly-freighted ships that had coasted
the Spanish main, and cruisers of all nations
were making a common war upon piracy, until
the name of Freelance alone held his crew to-
gether. A

Following the course of the swift vessel the
reader beholds her again heading in toward the
Mississippi shore, just before sunset of a leas-
ant day, six months after the coming on card
of Merle, the Waif.

Standing on the quarter-deck was Freelance,
and near him his son, dressed in a handsome
uniform.

“You know the channel in here, sir?” asked
the outh.

“ es. well; I was born in yonder handsome
plantation home you see nestling amid that
Emu of trees,” and Freelance pointed to a villa

wo eagues away, and which the youth gazed
upon With feelings of deepest interest as the
home of the chief, while to his mind came the
question of what had driven that splendid man
to iracy.

‘ It is to visit that home {I have come here,
boy; though, with several cruisers in close vi-
cinity, it is a dangerous thinglto do; yet I feel a

ressure here,” and he laid is hand upon his

eart; “ a resentiment that ere long death will
clutch me in his arms, and I longed to once more
visit the scenes of my boyhood.

“ Then, in that long ago, Merle, I was ha py,
and no storm-clouds had risen above the ori-
zon of my young life; now how changed, for
darkness and despair ever hover over me.”

“And are your parents still living then?"
asked Merle, with interest.

“Alas! no; my father fell in a duel when I
was a boy—a vendetta that cost many noble
lives; my poor mother died of a broken heart—
she believed me guilty of slaying my brother;
the homestead now belongs to my brother, who
is an oflicer in the navy, andrhe lives there when
on leave.

v “ No welcome will I have there now, and it is
pollution for 111 feet to tread the paths I trod
in innocent chil hood; but I must go and see the

. old place once more.”

“ And then on will sail for the Indies and
givg’np your ife of piracy, as you promised
me

“ Yes, Merle; I will henceforth lead a differ-
ent life. Now bring the schooner to anchor
and call the gig alongside for me. I Will nee
no boat’s crew, for I will row myself.”

Ten minutes after the schooner lay at anchor,
and the chief was rowing shoreward, while
darkness was creeping upon the sea and hiding
the land from view. _

. But seaward the light of the setting sun yet
hngered, and the large hull and towering masts
0‘? frigate suddenly came in sight around a
Pomt of land.

‘f He there! spriu into a boat and recall the
chief!” ordered Mer e, quickly and as a cutter

away in pursuit of Freelance, Merle
calicd the crew to their guns, and excepting
"13198 the anchor and setting sail, had all in
readiness for combat. _

In the meantime the fri ate la in the only
glass leading seaward, and t e dar ness hid her

0m vieW; but that she had come there to
blockade the schooner was evident. .

Shortly after the cutter returned and said the
chief would re 'oin his vessel within the. hour,
and for the sc ooner to be repared against an
attack of small boats from t e rigate.

Then a. silence like death rested upon the wa-

ters; but keen eyes peered out into the dark- >-

ness to watch for coming danger.

And,soon it came, for a long line of boats,
crowded with men and with muffled oars, agi-
groached the schooner, hoping to surprise t e

uccaneers. _ . .

But the men held their hves in their hands on
that little outlaw craft, and poured upon their
W '- -- so a gelling fire that sent many a soul
, and the fierce combat wamn.
~ th undaunted front the ' nts pressed

hprled back into the sea, and t 9‘ mad
wen onuntilthebaatsweredrivenofl.
r \

. .-

 

23‘

 

just as trailinor storm-clouds swept over the sea
and the wind l’ashed the waters into foam.

Then, out of the gloom dashed a boat with
but one occupant, and running alongside the
schooner a ta form sprung u )on the deck.

“ Up with that anchorl All ands to set sail!”

The stern order was in the deep tones of the
chief, and in an instant almost the schooner
was dashing through the waves, rushing by the
returning boats, and heading for the frigate,
which had dropped anchor, and was lying under
the lee of a small island to ride out the storm.

But a flash of vivid lightning discovered the
flying schooner to the eyes on board the frigate,
and a moment after there came a hail as the
fleet craft rushed by.

In loud tones Freelance replied, as though he
were the officer in char e of the attacking party,
and had taken the sc ooner, and held on his
course; but the returning boats were now near
the man-of—war and the deception was made
known.

Instantly the guns of the frigate thundered
savagely forth, and sent an iron hail after the
fl ing buccaneer, hittin her in a number of
p aces. and laying,r severe. of her crew upon the
deck torn and dying.

But Freelance had run many a deadl gant-
let before and held on seaward, passed t rough
the island chain, and lun ed into the storm-
swept waters of the Gil f, w ile his huge enemy,
under close-reefed sails, at once stood out of the
inlet in hot pursuit of the daring Cavalier Cor—
sair.

Out into the midni lit gloom, ever and anon
set ablaze by luri li htnini, rushed the
schponer, while upon her ecks er demon-like
crew are struggling for mastery, having mu-
tinied against t eir chief.

But suddenly a crash of thunder, shakes the
very sea, a lurid blaze of lightning bursts from
an inky cloud, and descends upon the tall top-
mast of the buccaneer schooner, and darkness,
death, wreck and ruin follow.

CHAPTER XXXII.
THE WRECK.

THE scene has changed; the storm-clouds have
drifted away and the sky is clear, though the
wind et blows free, and the waves run high.

An the buccaneer schooner?

The end has come, for the once beautiful
craft, that so lon bounded in trium h over the
seas, whose keel eft a red wake w erever its
sharp bows out the blue waters, is a wreck upon
the waves, her hull torn by shot, her mainmast
shivered into splinters by the lightning’s stroke,
and the foremast broken off until only a stump
remains.

The bulwarks are shattered, the deck torn in
many places the guns broken loose from their
lashings, and some of them lost overboard.

But one living being is visible upon her deck,
and he crouches down under the shelter of the
forecastle pivot-gun, which alone remains firm.

And that one is a mere boy, yet one who held
an officer’s rank on board the schooner. It is
Merle, the son of Freelance the Cavalier Cor-
sair.

Within the cabin a wild scene presents itself,
for dead and dying men fill the floor, and lying
in their midst, his right hand grasping his blood-
stained cutlass, his left clutching the throat of
a burly mutineer with iron grasp, is Freelance
the Cavalier Corsair, whose face is terrible in
death, for at last the mighty Destroyer has
overtaken him, and retribution has come upon
him for his deeds.

Half a mile away upon the waters her guns
commanding the wreck, lies a statey frigate,
carrying the Stars and Stripes at er peak,
while moving rapidly over the rough waters are
several boats filled with men.

At last the leading boat strikes the. wreck,
and an officer springs on board, cutlass 1n hand,
and with his men at his back. _

His 6 e falls upon the youth crouching in the
forecas 1e, and roni him he learns of the red
carnival of carnage that had reigned on board
the schooner since the attack of the frigate’s
boats the night before.

Leading the way to the cabin the youth
points within.

The eye of the frigate’s officer falls upon the
tall form and dark, stern face of the pirate
chief and he starts back with a cry of horror.

“ Great God! That Freelance the Buccaneer?”
he cried, hoarse] . _

“Yes, senor, t at man is he whom men call
Freelance the Cavalier Corsair,” said the youth,

 

sadl .
- “ Boy, that man is Launcelot Grenville, my

brother!”

With quivering lip and tear-dimmed eye Ar-
thur Grenville knel beside the man he had long
believed dead—the brother he had so clearly
loved, and had now found to mourn as a bucca-
neer chieftain—a very curse upon the sea. -

 

CONCLUSION.

KIND reader, would you knew of the career
of Merle, the son of Freelance the Cavalier Cor-
sair, I refer you to the columns of the_‘ STAR
JOURNAL for the story of “ Merle the Mutineer;”
but, as you have followed me thro h this ro-

ot the sea. a9¢doubtless£oomefl in.

 

l

 

 

terested in the characters that figure herein, 1
Will tell you that Juanita Delbanco, the beauti-
ful Jewess, bold but one love throth life, and
though sought by hundreds for he! Wealth and
beauty died an old maid, leaving all the pros
perty S10 had inherited from her father to the
poor of her own race.

Alvez Miguel, like his chief, died on a pirate
deck, and with him disappeared the Buccaneer
flag in the waters of the gulf.

nd Maud, who became the Amazerg Queen,
never regretted her marriage with the Red Rais,
and from them descended the present ruler of

the mountain tribe of azergo.
t toy of a cruel Fate,
e

Launcelot Grenville
slec s at the bottom of Gulf of Mexico, hav~
ing randed his brow with crime, and left be-
hind him, written in letters of blood, the hated
name of Freelance the Buccaneer.

THE END.

Beadle’s Dime Library

 

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1 A HARD CROWD. B Philip S. Warne........  100
2 THE DARE-DEVIL. y Col. P. lngraham  100
8 KIT CARsoN, JR. By Buckskin Sam . .. we
4 THE KIDb \rrER By Phili ) S. Wain . Inc
5 THE FIRE FIENDs. By A. ’ Morr».  ..  in“
6 WIanAT Bun. By Edward L. Wheeler . . . . . .. Inc
7 DEATII-NOTCII, T E DEsTRovicir. 011 Gnomes" 100
8 THE HEADLESS ousEMAN. By Mayne Reid... 100
9 HANDY ANDY. By Samuel Lover 0

  

10 VIDooQ, TiIE chNon POLICE SPY. By himself:
11 MIDSIIIPIIAN EAsY. By Capt. llIaryatt . , . .
12 Tina DEATH-SHUT. By Capt. Mayne Reid .

 

13 PATIIAWAY. By Dr. J. H. Robinsmr.  .. . 10c
14 'I‘IiAYENDANEoEA, THE SoonRoE. Ned Buntline. 10c
15 Tim 'l‘Ioim SLAY am. By Gustave Ainiard. . .. . 100
16 Tux; Winn: \VIzARn. By Ned Buntline.  . . .. 100
17 NIGnTsuADE. By Dr. J. H. Robinson . . . . . . .. 10¢
18 TIIE SEA BANDIT. By Ned Buntline . . . . . . . . .. 10¢
19 RED CEDAR. By Gustave Almard . . . . . . . . . .  we
fill 'l‘IiE BANDIT AT BAY. By Gustave Almard... 100
21 THE TRAPPER’s DAUGHTER. Gustave Alinard . 100
22 WmTELAW. By Dr. J. H. Robinson.   10°
23 THE RED WARRIOR. By Ned Buntline . . . . . ... 100
24'1'I-IE PRAIRIE FLOWER. By Gustave Aimard.. 100
25 THE GOLD GUIDE. By Francis Johnson. . . ..  10c
26 THE DEATH TRACK. By Francis Johnson  100
27 THE SPOTTER DETEOTIVE. By Albert W. Aiken. 100
28 TIIREE-FINGERED JACK. Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 10c

29 TIGER DICK, Tun FARO KING. P. S. Warne. . 100
80 GOSPEL GEORGE. By Joseph E. Bad er. Jr ..
81 THE NEW YORK SHARP. By Albert .Aiken"
32 B‘Hors or YALE. By John D. Vose . .  ..
33 OVERLAND KIT. By Albert W. Aiken... 
84 ROCKY MOUNTAIN Ron. By Albert W. Aiken..
85 KENTIicK, THE SPORT. Bv Albert W. Aiken;
85 INJUN DICK. By Albert W. Aiken . . . . . . . . . . .. 100

  

 

8'7 HIRL, THE HUNoaaAoR. By J. H. Robinson... 100
88 VELVE" HAND. By Albert W. Aiken. . . 100
89 THE RUSSIAN Spy. By Frederick Whittaker. 100
40 Tm: LONG HAIRED ‘ PARDs.‘ J. E. Badger, Jr.. 10c
41 Conn DAN. By Albert W. Aiken. ,.   10c
'2 THE CALIFORNIA DETEcTIVE. A. W. Aiken... 100
43 DAKOTA DAN. By Oll Coomes , .  10¢
44. OLD DAN RACKBACK. By 011 Commas...  . 100
45 OLD Bouts EYE. Bv Jos. E. Badger, Jr... 100.
46 BOWIE-KNIFE BEN. By Oll Gnomes  10¢
47 PACIFIC PETE. Bv Jos E. Badger, Jr. 109
48 IDARo TOM. By Oll Coomes. . . . . .. 100
49 THE WoLr DEuoN. By Albert W. Aiken . 10c
50 JACK RABBIT. By Jos. E. Badger. Jr .. .. 100
51 Run Ron, THE BOY ROAD-AGENT. 011 00011188.. 100
52 DEATH TRAILER. By Wm. F. ('ody . . . . . . . . . . .. 100
158 SILVER SAM. By Col. Dells Sara . . . . . . . . . . . . .. 100
54 ALWAYS oN HAND. By Philip S. Warne . . . . .. 100
55 THE ScALP HUNTERS. By (‘a t. Mayne Reid. .. 100
58 THE lNDIAN MAZEPPA. By Al ert W. Aiken. . .. 10c

57 THE SILENT HUNTER. By Pk‘l‘t‘V B. St. John.  100

653 SILVER KNIFE. By Dr. J. H. obinson , . . . . . .. 100
59 THE MAN NRon Terms. By Albert W. Aiken. 100
80 WIDE AWAKE. Bi Frank uinont . . . . . . . . .  100
61 CAPTAIN SEAWAIF’. Bar Nod Buntline . . . . . . . . .. 100
6'3 LoiIAI. HEART. By ustaive .»\inutrd,...  10c
63 THE WINGED WRALE. By Albert W. Aiken... 100
64 DounLE SIGHT. By J 0s. 1‘}. Badger .lr. . . . . .. 10¢
65 THE RED RAJAR. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker. 100
66 THE SPECTER BARQUE. By (in it. Mayne Reid... 10c
67 TIIE Bov JookEY. By Joscp l E. Badger, Jr... 10c
68 Tue FIGHTING Tau-PER. By .I. F. C. Adams. 100
69 THE [Risa CAPTAIN. By Capt. F. Whittaker. 100
70 HYDRABAD. By Dr. J. ll. Robinson . . . . . . . .. 100

71 CAPTAIN COOL BLADE. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr;
2 Tue PHANTOM HAND. By Albert W. Aiken. .. 1

73 THE KNIGHT or THE RED CRoss. By Dr. J.

H. Robinson . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . 100
74 CAPTAIN on THE RIFLES. Capt. Mayne Reid. 10:: ‘
75 GENTLEMAN GEORGE. By Albert W. Aiken... 10c
76 THE UEEN's MUSRETEERs. By Geo. Albany. 100
77 THE RESR or FRIsco. By Albert W. Aiken. 100
78 THE MYsTERious SPY. v A. M. Grainger.. .. 10c ,
79 JOE PnENIx. By Albert W. Aiken . . . . . . . . .. 10¢
80 A MAN or NERVE. By Philip S. Warne .... .. 106
81 THE HUMAN TIGER. B Albert W. Aiken.  10c
82 IRON WRIST. By Col. omas H. Monstery.. 10c
83 Gem BULLET SPORT. By Buffalo Bill ..,.. 00
85 HUNTED DOWN. By Albert W. Aiken . . . ..  100
So THE CRETAN ROVER. By Col. P. Ingraham  10c ‘
86 THE BIG HUNTER. Author of “Silent Hunter." 100
87 THE SCARLET CAPTAIN. B Col. Delle Sara... 100
88 Bio GEORGE. By Jose h .Bad or, Jr. . . . . .. 100
89 THE PIRATE PRINOE. y Col. P. graham. . .._ 100
90 WILD WILL. Bv Buckskin Sam . . . . . . . . . . . .. 10¢,
91 THE WINNING OAR. By Albert W. lken.  10c
92 BUFFALO BILL. By Major Dangerfle Burr 100

93 CAPTAIN DICK TALBOT. By Albert W. Aiken..
94 FREELANCE, TEE BuccANEER. By In aham.. 1
.5 Among THE AanN. By Anthony . Morris. 100
9!! DOUBLE DEATH. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker... 100
97 BRONZE JAcx./ By Albert W. Aiken ...... . ... r

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receipt of twelve cents each. BEADLE a ADA“;
Publishers. 98 William street, New York. _ 1  ,

 

BEADLE’SrDIMErflBRARY.

  

' Published Every Wednesday. Each Issue Complete and Sow at the Uniform Price of Ten Cents. No Double Numbers.

 

 

 

BUFFALO BILL NOVELS.
BY COlouel Prentiss Ingrnham.

960 Buffalo Bill’s Blue Belt Brigade.

956 Buffalo Bill’s Volunteer Vigilantes.

950 Buffalo Bill at Bay.

943 Buffalo Bill’s Block Game.

936 Buffalo Bills Black Part].

927 Buffalo Bill‘s Bluff; or, Dusk Dick the Snort.

921 Bufialo Bill‘s Quandary: or, elvet Bill‘s Vow.

915 Bufialo Bill and the Surgeon-Scout.

909 Buffalo Bill’s League: or. Red Butterfly.
Buffalo Bill‘s Tangled Trail.
Buffalo Bill‘s Rough Riders.

895 Buffalo Bill's Secret Ally.

890 Buffalo Bill's Life-Stake.

882 The Three Bills: Buffalo Bill.Wild Bill and Band-
box Bill; or. The Bravo in Broadcloth.

874 Buffalo Bill's Buckskin Braves.

869 Buflalo Bill‘s Road-Agent Round-up.

863 Buffalo Bill’s Death Charm.

857 Buffalo Bill’s Royal Flush.

851 Bufialo Bill‘s Double Dilemma.

845 Bufl'alo Bill’s Redskin Ruse.

830 Buffalo Bill's Burs in Blue.

w Buffalo Bill‘s Shar Shooters.

822 Buffalo Bill‘s Best ower.

816 Buffalo Bill‘s Red Trail.

812 Buffalo Bill’s Death-Knoll. 'i

794 Buffalo Bill’s Winning Hand.

787 Buffalo Bill’s Dead Shot.

781 Buffalo Bill‘s Brand.

777 Buffalo Bill‘s Spy Shadower.

769 Buffalo Bill’s Sweepstake.

765 Buffalo Bill’s Dozen: or, Silk Ribbon Sam.

761 Buflalo Bill‘s Mascot.

757 Buffalo Bill's Double.

750 Buffalo Bill's Big Four;or, Custer‘s Shadow.

743 Buffalo Bill's Flush Band.

739 Buffalo Bill‘s Blind: or, The Masked Driver.

735 Buflalo Bill and His Merry Men.

731 Buffalo Bill‘s Beagles: or Silk Lasso Sam.

727 Buffalo Bill’s Body Guard.

722 Buffalo Bill on the Wnr- ath.

716 Buffalo Bill’s Scout Sher owers.

710 Buffalo Bill Baffled: or. The Deserter Desperado.

697 Buffalo Bill's Buckskin Brotherhood.

691 Buffalo Bill‘s Blind Trail: or, Mustang Madge.

667 Buffalo Bill's Swoop; or. The King of the Mines.

658 The Cowva Clan; or. The Tigress of Texas.

653 Lasso King‘s League: or. Buck Taylor in Texas.

649 Buffalo Bill‘s Chief of Cowboys: or. Buck Taylor

644 Buffalo Bill’s Bonanza; or. Silver Circle Knights.

362 Buffalo Bill‘s Grip: or. Oath Bound to Custer.

829 Buffalo Bill‘s Pietge: or. The League of Three.

189 Wild Bill‘s Gold Trail; or. The Desperate Dozen.

175 Wild Bill’s Trump Card: or. The Indian Heiress.

168 Wild Bill, the Pistol Dead Shot.

By Buffalo Bill.
839 The Ranch King Dead-Shot.
820 White, Beaver ’8 Still Hunt.
807 Wild Bill, the Wild West Duelist.
800 Wild Bili. the Dead-Center Shot.
639 Buffalo Bill‘s Gold King.
599 The Dead Shot Nine: or, My Pards of the Plains.
414 Red Renard. the lndian Detective.
401 One-Armed Para; or. Borderland Retribution.
397 The Wizard Brothers: 01'. White Bi-aver’s Trail.
394 White Beaver, the Exile of the Platte.
319 Wild Bill, the Whirlwind of the “'cst.
304 Texas Jack. the Prairie Rattler.
243 The Pilgrim Sharp: or. The Soldier‘s Sweetheart.
83 Gold Bullet Snort; or. Knights of the Overland.
[52 Death-Traiier. the Chief of Scouts.

By Leon Lewis, Ned Buntllne, etc.

773 Buflalo Bill’s Ban; or. Cody to the Rescue.
682 Buffalo Bill‘s Secret Service Trail.
629 Buffalo Bill’s Darin Role; or. Daredeath Dick.
517 Buffalo Bill's First rail; or, The Express Rider.
159 Bufialo Bill, Chief of Scouts.

117‘ Buffalo Bill 5 Strange Pard: or, Dashing Dandy.

92 Buffalo Bill. the Buckskin King.

BY HAROLD PAYNE.

883 The Man from Mexico in New York.

872 The King-Pin Shark; or, Thad Burr’s Ten Strike.
861 The Tenderloin Big Four

853 The Quaker City Crook.

841 Tracked to Chicago.

838 The Policy Broker‘s Blind.

829 The Frism Sharper’s Cool Hand.

821 The Tramp Shadower's Backer.

813 The Sham S tter’s Sin-er Scheme.

836 The Grand Street Gold-Dust Sharpers.

798 Detective Burr‘s Lunaiic Witness

792 The Wall Street Sharper’s Snap.

784 Thad Burr’s Death Drop.

742 Detective Burr Among the New York Thugs.
734 Detective Burr‘s Foil; or, A Woman‘s Strategy.
728 Detective Burr. the Headquarters Special.
713 Detective Burr‘s Spirit Chase.

706 Detective Burr’s Seven Clues.

698 Thad Burr, the Invincible; or, The “L " Clue.
690 The Matchless Detective.

680 XX. the Fatal Clew: or. Burr’s Master Case.

BY LIEUT. A. K. SIM.

914 Snowflake Sam's Double.
897 The Six-Shot Spotter.
887 The Stranger Sport from Spokane.
873 The Sport Detective’s Colorado Clew.
860 The Spangled Sport Shadower.
813 The Crescent City Sport.
832 Gid Gale‘s Block Game.
804 Tne King Pin of the Leadville Lions.
786 Chicago Charlie‘s Diamond Haul. _
776 Chicago Charlie, the Columbian Detective.
758 The Wizari King Detective.
723 Teamster Tom, the Boomer Detective.
Lodestone Lem, the Champion of Chestnut Burr.
695 Singer Sam, the Pilgrim Detective.
River Bustiers: or. the Detective from ’Way Back
67-3 Stuttering Sam the Whitest Sport of Santa Fe.
coo Old Adamant, the Man of Rock.
618 Kansas Karl, the Detective King.
569 Prince Primrose, the Flower of the Flock.
IQ Huckleberry, the FootHills Detective.

 

BY CAPTAIN H0‘VARD HOLMES.

929 Gentleman George, the Showman Sport.
91:: Genteel Joe‘s Lone Hand.
90‘} The Train Detective.
896 Kent Keen, the Crook-Crusher.
888 Nightshade in New York.
879 Falcon Flynn, the Flash Detective.
871 The Crook Cashier.
859 CIew-Hawk Kcene’s Right Bower.
847 Hiram Hawk, the Harlem Detective.
810 Major Bullion. Boss of the Tigers.
Siil Shadowing the London Detective.
817 Plush Velvet. the Prince of Spotters.
803 The Bogus Broker‘s Right Bower.
7‘88 The Night-Hawk Detective.
779 Silk Ribbon's Crush-out.
766 Detective Zach, the Broadway Spotter.
751 The Dark Lantern Detective.
736 The Never-Fail Detective.
24 Captain Hercules. the Strong Arm Detective.
711 Dan Damon, the Gilt—Edge Detective.
701 Silver Steve, the, Branded Sport.
694 Gideon Grip, the Seciet Shadower.
684 Velvet Van, the Mystery Shadower.
678 The Dude Desperado
671 Jason Clew. the Silk-Handed Ferret.
664 Monk Morel, the Man-Hun'er.
654 S01 S hinx, the Ferret Detective.
612 Red ard and Yellow.
608 Silent Sam, the Shadow Sphinx.
592 Ca tnin Sid, the Shasta Ferret.
579 01 Cormorant. the Bowery Shadow.
569 Captain Cobra, the Hooded Mystery.
559 Danton. the Shadow Sharp.
550 Silk Hand, the Mohavv Ferret.
543 The Magnate Detective.
5'52 JaCk Javert. the Independent Detective.
5‘23 Reynard of Red Jack: or. The Lost Detective
512 Captain Velvet‘s Big Stake.
505 Phil Fox. the Genteel Spotter.
496 Richard Redfire. the Two Worlds‘ Detective.
48? Sunshine Sam, a Chip of the Old Block.
480 Hawkspear. the Man with a Secret.
4'38 Coldgrip in Deadwood.
460 Captain Coldgrip. the Detective.
453 Captain Cold rip’s Long Trail.
447 Volcano. the risco Spy.
411 The California Sharp.
434 Lucifer Lynx, the Wonder Detective.
421 Father Ferret. the Frisco Shadow.
«113 Captain Coldgrip in New York.
407 Captain Coldgrip’s Nerve: or. In 'un Nick.
400 Captain Coldgrip: or. The New ork Spotter.
392 The Lost Bonanza: or, The Boot of Silent Hound.
382 The Bonanza Band: or. Dread Don of Cool Clan.
374 Major Blister. the Sport of Two Cities.
365 Keen Kennard. the Shasta Shadow.
352 The Des crate Dozen.
347 Denver uke, the Man with “ Sand."
310 Cool Conrad. the Dakota Detective.
3’15 Flash Dan. the Nabob: or, Blades of Bowie Bar.
321 California Claude, the Lone Bandit.
291 Broadcloth Burt. the Denver Dandy.
941 The Shadow Sport from Frisco.

BY ‘VILLIAM II. MANNING.

948 The. Red-Gloved Detective.

931 Frisco Frank at Glory Gulch.

921) The Montana. Miner in New York.

901-5 The Doomsday-Den Detective.

899 The Double-Quick Detective.

893 Yellow Gid. of Dark Divide.

895 The Expert Dctectiw-‘s Shake-up.

875 Trap )ing the Race-Track Judge.

864 The olice Special’s Dilemma.

8“ The Genteel Sharper’s Combine

841 Graydon‘s Double Deal.

833 The Sport Detective’s Grip.

8'53 The Athlete Sport About Town.

808 Tthrook-Detcctive’s Pull.

790 Plunger Pete, the Race Track Detective.

782 Roval Rock, the Round-up Detective.

774 Steve Starr. the Dock Detective.

764 The New York Sharp‘s Shadower.

738 Detective Claxton. the Record Breaker.

714 Gabe Gall, the Gambolier from Great Hump,
7m Spokane Saul. the Samaritan Sus .ct

692 Dead Shot Paul, the Deep-Range x lorer.
655 Strawberry Sam. the Man with the irthmark.
646 Dark John, the Grim Guard.

(BR Murdock. the Dread Detective.

623 Dangerous Dave, the Never-Beaten Detective.
611 Alkali Abe, the Game Chicken from Texas.
596 Rustler Rube; the Round-Up Detective.

585 Dan Dixon's Double.

570 Steady Hand. the Napoleon of Detectives
563 Wyoming Zeke, the Hotspur of Honc,suckle.
551 Garry Kean the Man with Backbone.

539 Old Doubledark. the Wily Detective.

531 Saddle-Chief Kit. the Prairie Centaur.

521 Paradise Sam, the Nor’-West Pilot.

513 Texas Tartar. the Man With Nine Lives.
506 Uncle Honest. the Peacemaker of Hornets’ Nest.
498 Central Pacific Paul. the Mail Train Spy.
492 Border Bullet. the Prairie sharpshooter.
486 Kansas Kitten. the Northwest Detective.

479 Gladiator Gabe, the Samson of Sassajack.

470 The Duke of Dakota. .

463 Gold Gauntlet. the Gulch Gladiator.

455 Yank Yellowbird, the Tall Hustler of the Hills. -

449 Bluff Burke. King of the Rockies.

442 Wild West Walt. the Mountain Veteran.

437 Deep Duke: or. The Man of Two Lives.

427 The Rivals of Montana Mill.

415 Hot Heart, the Detective Spv.

405 Old Baldy the Brigadier of Buck Basin.

291‘ Colorado Rube. the Strong Arm of Hotspur.

279 The Gold Dragoon. or. California Bloodhound.

BY LEON LE‘VIS.

797 Pistol Tommy. the Miner Sharp.

785 I‘he Down East Detective in Nevada.

773 Buffalo Bill‘s Ban: or, Cody to the Rescue.

699 The Cowboy Couriers.

686 The On-the-Wing Detectives.

624 The Submarine Detective: or, The Water Ghouls.
484 Captain Ready. the Red Ransomer.

481 The Silent Detective: or. The Bogus Nephew.
456 The Demon Steer. I

428 The Flying Gllm; or, The Island Lure.

1

 

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.l

ALBERT W. AIKEN’S NOVELS.
Dick Talbot Series.

Dick Talbot‘s Close Call.

Dick Talbot in Apache Land.

Dick Talbot. the Ranch King.

Dick Talbot’s Clean-Out.

" Dick Talbot in No Man‘s Camp.

354 Dick Talbot: 01, The Brand of Crimson Cross
36 Dick Talbot; or. The Death-Shot of Shasta.

Alken’s Fresh of Frisco Series.

Fresh, the Race-Track Sport.

The Fresh in Montana: or, Blake's Full Hand.
The Fresh‘s Rustle at Painted City.

The Fresh at Santa Fe; or, The Stranger Sharp.
Fresh, the Sport: or. The Big Racket. at Slide Out.
Fresh Against the Field: or, Blake. the Lion.
The Fresh in Texas; or. ThFl Escobedo Millions.
The Fresh of Frisco on the Rio Grande.

The Fresh in Big Walnut Camp; or. Bronze J ac}:

Alken’n Joe Phenix Serleu.

959 Joe Phenix‘s Double Deal.

954 Joe Phenix in Chicago.

949 The Doctor from Texas; or, Joe Phenix's Clue.

944 Joe Phenix’s Right Bower.

865 The Female Barber Detective; or, Joe Phenix in

Silver City.
799 Joe Phenix’s Great Blue Diamond Case; or, The
New York Sport at Long Branch.

793 Joe Phenix’s Decoy: or The Man of Three.

760 Joe Phenix‘s Lone Hand.

749 Joe Phenix‘s Big Bulge.

745 Joe Phenix’s Mad Case.

708 Joe Phenix‘s Siren; or, The Woman Hawksliaw.

700 Joe Phenix‘s Unknown; or. Crushing the Crooks

681 Joe Phenix’s Specials: or. The Actress Detective

637 Joe Phenix in Crazy Camp.

632 Joe Phenix’s Master Search.

628 Joe Phenix‘s Combine ; cr,the Dandy Conspirator

620 Joe Phenix's Silent Six.

601 Joe Phenix’s Shadow;or.the Detective”: Monitor

419 Joe Phenix.. the Kin: of Detectives.

161 Joe Phenix‘s Great Man Hunt.

112 Joe Phenix, Private Detective; or, The League.
79 Joe Phenix. the Police Spy.

741
737

“'01

:2
9?
w

a‘

N;
c.

825
660
652
647
506
537

461
97

l

A
'5
K,

Alken’s Miscellaneous Novels.

940 Captain Jack, the Scalper
935 The hawks and Wolves of New York
932 Detective Gordon’s Grip.
926 Old Sunflower. the Silent Smiter.
923 Old Sunflower. the Hayseed Detective.
901 The Hotel Swell-Sharp; or, The Siren Shadower.
892 The Countryman Detective.
876 Gold Button S ort; or, The
842 Teton Toni. t e Half-Blcod
835 The King-Pin Detective.
814 The New Yorker Among Texas Sports.
775 King Dandy, the Silver Sport.
753 Gideon’s Grip at Babylon l‘ar.
717 Captain Pat IcGowen, the Greencoat Detective.
674 Uncle Sun Up, the Born Detective.
670 The Lightweight Detective.
665 The Frisco Detective; or, The Golden Gate Find.
613 Keen Billy. the Sport.
607 Old Benzine, the “Hard Case ” Detective.
594 Fire Face. the Silver King’s Foe.
586 The Silver Sh arp Detective.
577 Tom, of Calif (min; or, Detective's Shadow Act.
570 The Actress Detective: or, The Invisible Band
562 Lone Hand. the Shadow.
520 The Lone Hand on the Caddo.
490 The Lone Hand in Texas. .
475 Chin Chin, the Chinese Detective.
465 The Actor Detective. '
440 The High Home of the Paulie.
421 The Lone Hand; or. The Red River Recreants.
408 Doc Grip, the Vendetta of Death.
381 The Gy sy Gen tleman: cr. hick Fox. Detective
376 Black cards: 01. The Rio Grande High Harse
370 The Dusky Detective: or. Fursued to the End.
363 Crowningshield. the Detective
320 The Genteel Spotter: or The N. Y. Night Hawk.
%2 The Wall Street Blood; or. The Telegraph Girl.
203 The Double Detective: or.The Midnight Mystery.
196 La Marmoset, the Letecuve Queen.
101 The Man from New York.
91 The Winning Oar: or. The Innkeepers Daughter.
81 Hunted Down: or. The League 0 Three.
81 The Human Tiger: or. A Heart of Fire. ‘
75 Gentleman George: or. Parlor. Prison and Street,
7'2 The Phantom Hand: or. The 5th Avenue Heiress.
56 The Indian Mazeppa; or, Madman of the Plains.
49 The Wolf Demon: or. The Kanawha Queen.
42 The California Detective: or, The Witches of N.Y.
31 The New York Sharp: or. TheflaSh 0f lehtnlng.
27 The Spotter Detective: or. Girls of New York.

NEW ISSUES.

971 “ D;" or. Branded for Life. By K. F. Hill.
972 The Captain‘s Enemy. By Col. P. Ingraham.
973 The Dread Shot Four By Buffalo Bill.

974 The Man from Denver. By J 05. E. Badger.
975 Freelance, the Buccaneer. By Col. Ingraham.
976 Overland Kit. By Albert W. Aiken.

JUST ISSUED.

963 The Sea Recreant. B Col. P. In ham.

964 Buflfalo Bill’s Invincib es. By Co . P. 111ng
965 Joe Pheniix's Igascott. BAigert  $3153}

966 The Sport ng etec ive. os. . .

967 Wind Rivgrl Clarkigthgo G01); IfiermggmBy Lewis.
968 The Two ags. y . . .

969 Texas Jack, the Lasso King. By Buffalo Bill
970 The Cretan Rover. By Col. P. lngraham.

A new lam wary Wadnaday.

THE DIME LtIsBBABY is for galenb :2
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The

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Buck Taylor, the Saddle King. Buffalo Bill's
Chief of Scouts. By Col. P. Ingraham.
Buffalo Bill's Bonanza; or, The Knights of
the Silver Circle. By Col. P. Ingraham.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

973 grmenDrei‘d SChOt FOUI“; 03‘. My Perils of thei816 Buffalo Bill's Red Trail; or, The Road-Rider
s. y oi. W. B. body. Benegade's Run Down. By Col. P. Ingraham.
Buffalo Bill‘s Inv‘incililes; or. ThéSable Shml- 812 Buffalo Bill's Death—Knell; or, The Red Band
(ix/ref s Sublime bucriilce. By Col. l’. Ingra— Riders of the Rockies. By Col. 1’. Ingrallam.
‘ ; 07 Wild Bill. the Wild \Vest Dilellst; 11' The Girl The Gold King; or Montebello, the Magnifi-
guffalo Bill :4 Blue Belt Brigade; or, Sun- Mascot of Moonlight Mine. By Buffz'ilo Bill. cent. By Buffalo 'Bill.
ower Sam of shustzi. liy “0i. 1’. lngraham. v v '
B If I m”, V v 807 Wild Bill. the Wild “Vest Duelist; or, The Girl Buffalo Bill s Daring Role; or, Daredeath
u n o s \oluntocr \ igllunti‘s; or, The Grantle Ralph. the Cowboy Chief. By Buf— Dick, King of the Cowboys. By Leon Lewis.
Mysterious Man in Blue. By (fol. P. Ingrzi- falo Bill.
hum. , The Dead Shot Nine; or, My Pards of the
Buffalo Bill 5 Winning Hand: or. The Masked plains. “y Buffalo 13m.
Buffalo Bill at Bay; or, The Gold Seeker’s \Voman of the Colorado Canyon. By CHI. 1’.
Duum' By (bl. 1)- Ingmham. Ingmham. Buffalo Bill's First Trail; or, Will dey, the
Buffalo Bill's Block Game; or, The Mounted Buffalo Bill'sDealiShot;ol‘,'l“lleSkeleton Scout Pony Express Ride“ By Ned Bumlme'
Miners of the Overland. By Col. 1*, Ingra— “Y the Colorado- By (‘01. Pri'ntiss Ingraliam. Red Renard, the Indian Detective; or, The
ham' Buffalo Bill’s Brand; or, The Brimstone Gold Buzzards of Colorado. By Buffalo Bill.
Buffalo Bill's Black Part]; or, The Gold “"’th"rh””d- By COL Prentiss ingraha’m The One-Armed Pard; or, Red Retribution in
l113,i1)‘;lriler.¢l of the Big Horn. By Col. l’. Ingra- "' finfffllo Bill’s Spy-Shadower; or, The Masked Borderland. By Buffalo Bill.
. en at Grand Canyon. By Col. P. lngraham. v .
' Th, Wi or B then; r, “hite Beavers
guffaloBBilLs Bluff; or. Dusky Dick, the Buffalo Bill‘s Ban; or. (7063’ it) the Rescue- Trill. Bzv Buffalo Bill 0
0'. ‘ . )_ A. ‘ . .
p i y 'ul 1 ingraham. By 1&0“ Lewis ‘ 304 White Beaver, the Exile of the Platte; or,
Buffalo Bills Quandary; or, Velvet. Bill's Buffalo “"139 Sweepstnkm 01‘. The VVlnP—Ollt A VVronged Man’s Red Trail. By Buffalo
VOW. By Col. pmmlss Ingmham, at Last Chance. By Col. Prentiss Ingruham. Bill.
Buffalo Bill and the Surgeon Scout; or, Go- " Buffalo Bill‘s Dozen: 01‘. Silk Ribbon Sam. 362 Buffalo Bill's Grip; or. Oath-bound to Custer.
Wall-Ki), tile Redskin Hider. By (Jul. 1’. in- My (‘01. Prentiss Ingrahum. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham-
Biuhum. Buffan Bill's Mascot; or, The Death Valley 329 Buffalo Bill's Pledge; or, The League of
Buffalo Bill's League; or. Red Butterfly. By Victim No. 13. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. Three. By Col, P. Ingraham.
COL 1 FenllSS Ingrahlinl. Buffalo Bill's Double; or, The Desperado De- 319 Wild Bill, the \Vhlrlwind of the Welt. By
Buffalo Bill's Tunglml Tm”; or, Gentleman tee-tire. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. Buffalo Bill.
.Ilack, the Man of Many Masks. By (lol. 1'. Buffalo Bill’s Big Four: or, Custer's Shallow. 304 Texas Jack, the Prairie Rattler; or, The
ngrahani. By (fol. Prentiss Ingraham. Queen of the Wild Riders. By Buffalo Bill.
Buffalo‘lilll's Rough Biders; or, Texas Jack’s Buffalo Bill's Flush Hand; or, Texas Jack's 243 The Pilgrim Sharp; or, The Soldier's Sweet-
shal‘ll-bl'ltmlm‘s- By Lul- Prentiss Ingmham. Bravos. By (701. Prentiss Ingraham. llvart. By Buffalo Bill. Government Scout
Buffalo Bill's Secret Ally; or, The Texan’s Buffalo Bill's Blind; or, The Masked llriver and Gum“
Double. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. of Death's Canyon. By Col. Prentiss lngra- Willi Bill's Gold Trail; or. The Desperate
Buffalo Bill's Life-Stake; or, The Pledged ham; Dozen. By Col. P. Ingraham.
Three. By Col. 1’. lngraham. Buffalo Bill and His Merry Men; or, The \Vild Bill‘s Trump Card; or, The Indian

The Three Bills; Buffalo Bill, \Vilil Bill and Heiress' By 0"“ Pram” Ingmham'
Blind-Box Bill; or, The Bravo in Broadcloth.
By Col. P. Ingraham.

Buffalo Bill's Buckskin Braves; or, The. (Yard
Queen 5 Last Ga-ne. By Col. P. Ingraiiam.

Buffalo Bill's Road Agent Bound-Up; or, Tile

Robin Hood Rivals. By Col. Prentiss Ingra-
llam.

Buffalo Bill’s Beagles; or; Silk Lasso Sam.
By (fol. Prentiss Ingraliam.

Buffalo Bill's Body Guard; or, The Still Hunt
of the Hills. By Col. Prentiss lngruham.

\Vlld Bill, the Pistol Dead Shot; or, Dagger
Don’s Double. By Col. Prentiss Ingruham.

Buffalo Bill, Chief of Scouts; or. The Doomed
Dozen. By Dr. Frank Powell.

Buffalo Bill‘s Strange Paril; or, Dashing

Dandy, the Hotspur of the Hills. By Major

Buffalo Bill on the War Path; or. Silk Lasso
D. Burr.

Mysterious Masked Man in Black. By Col. .
By Col. P. In«

1’. Ingraham. Sam, the Will-o'-tho-\Visp.
863 Dunn“) “Hrs neathfihnrm; on The Man‘ graham. Buffalo Bill, the Buckskin King;, or. The

With the Sear. By Col. Prentiss Ingrahnm, 716 Buffalo Ril’l'Sn’SfiAut Shgi‘iozi‘ielrslz) or. Elmer- fiumraZiin of the West. By Major Dangerfield
357 Buffalo Burs Royal Flush; (m The I’Ony Ri- ald Ed of l ev s ere. y ,0 . 7. ngra lam. .

tler’s Death-Run. By Col. Prentiss ingra— 710 Buffan Bill Baffled; or, The Deserter Des- gomllfi‘gletnsponi Orv The Knigms or the

ham. porado's Defiance. By Col. 1’. Ingralllim. F Dve:};‘nT' .1 y 1::fiaézi [Em-f S t L"
851 Buffalo Bill‘s Double Dilemma; or, The Great 097 Buffalo Bill’s Burkskin Brotherhood; or, , 9“ We“ 6 e 0 9°“ 5: “V e

Scout's Big Three. By (101. 1’. Ingrallam. Opening Up a Lost Trail. By Col. 1’. 1n-  I‘me in a Frontier Fon' By Buflalo
8-15 Buffalo Bill's Redskin Ruse; or. Texas Jack's‘ graham-

Death Shot. By (301. Prentiss Ingruham. *691 Buffalo Bill’s Blind Trail; or, The Daughtnr
339 The Ranch King Dead-Shot: or, Texas Jack's of the Regiment. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.

PFOXY- “Y Buffalo “m- 682 Buffalo Bill's Secret Service Trail. By Major -
830 Buffalo Bill's Boys in Blue; or. The BrimstoneI Dangerfield Burr.

v . ~ , r .

Bands Bibi-0% BXU’L 1‘ “5mm” i 7 Buffalo Bill's Swoop; or. the Kim: of the
826 Bum“) Burs Sham'Shgntitsf  §Efrggzfinni Mines. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.

v _ A0 , . ' r .

scout to the Rescue y ‘658 The Cowboy Clan; or, The Tigress of Texas. -

‘ By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham.

Buffalo Bill's Best Bower; or, Montebello the
Gold King. By Col. Prentiss lngraham. i
5 Still Hunt; or. The Miner;653 The Lasso King's League; or, The Tigers of -
1 Texas. By Colonel Prentiss Ingrahum.

 

NEW ISSUES TO COME.
Cyclone Pete. the Silk Hat Detective. By
Wm. H. Eyster.
Prince Monte Cris/to in New York. By J. C.
(.‘owdriek.
Buffalo Bill's Relentless Trail.
Prentiss Ingraham.

The All-Around Athlete; or, The Stage De-
tective's Ten Strike. By Albert W. Aiken.

By Colonel

White Beaver' 4
Marauder’s Death-Track. By Buffalo Bill.

 

NW

 

 

HE DIME LIBRARY is for sale by all Newsdealers,
ten cents per copy, or sent by mail, pro-paid, on re-
ceipt of price.

BEADLE & ADAMS, Publishers,

98 WILLIAM STREET. NEW YORK.

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