Commodore Junk — page 298: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

ON THE QUI VIVE. 9291 There was a low murmur either of assent or objection, and he was turning away when Dick, the sailor, came up. “Gone!” he said, laconically. ‘‘Mazzard? Gone?” cried the buccaneer, excitedly. “Yes ; and the man who was on guard lying dead, crushed with a stone.” “ From the explosion?” cried the buccaneer. “From Black Mazzard’s hands,” replied Dick, stolidly. “Well,” said the captain, drawing in his breath hard as he thought of the possibility of the escaped prisoners coming in contact, “there will be two to capture when the day breaks. No one can get away.” In an hour a messenger came from the sea in the shape of Bart, and he made his way to the captain’s side. “Well ?” “You were right; they intended the sea;” and he ex- plained about the boat. “¢ And yet you have come away?” “'T'wo men are watching,” said Bart, stolidly. ‘ Bah! you must be mad.” ‘‘ And two planks are rifted out of the boat. It will take a carpenter to make her float.” ‘“ Bart, forgive me.” “Forgive you! Ah, yes! I forgive.” “T have need of all your aid. Captain Armstrong has escaped.” “ Not far.” ‘No; but there is worse news. Mazzard has brained his keeper, and is at liberty.” “ Hah!” ejaculated Bart. ‘¢ And those two may meet.” “ Always of him,” muttered Bart, sadly. ‘Well, skipper, what is it to be now, when he is captured }” B 2 CONnnicGloOolkXs =