The Argosy, Vol. 75, No. 4 — page 177: what you’re looking at

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

SAILING WITH MORGAN. Havanas. Since then he has never been quite as sound in his mind as he was before, and he always talks of the burning of Quiberon. “Tf it happens that he gets excited, as he often does when the subject of the talk is wealth, then he becomes un- intelligible and can tell no more than he has been told. He will tell the tale as I have told it to him, and if Captain Morgan believes it you will have the consolation of knowing that you have saved many lives this night. “By the time that you can reach Gibraltar, if indeed you go there, the place will indeed be deserted; but the tale may save it from being burned.” Oakes nodded gravely in acqttes- cence. “It may work. We will re- turn now to the town, for it will never do to have ourselves suspected. Come, Upholme!” But I had stepped aside and was speaking in a low tone to Dolores. “ Senora,’ I said, ‘‘ Doha—Dolores— I am about to leave you now. Will you think once in a while of the poor English adventurer who, in spite of the harm that he has done, did what he could to help you? The best thing that I can ask at this time is that you forget it all; but I pray that with the years that come forgiveness will come also—”’ “Forgiveness cannot come,’ she said slowly, “ till wrong is conceded to have been done. Sefior—Esteban—lI shall—never—forget. And—and—’ The white hands flung out to me. “Esteban, I do not wish to do so.”’ “Come on, Stephen! Are you a fool?’ growled Oakes, and with many a backward glance I[ followed him down the road. We had not gone a hundred yards, closely followed by our companion, when I heard footsteps behind me, and the old man called to us in the dark- ness : “It is naught, sefiores. I am to tell Sefior Upholme that a message for Senora de Montijo will always be re- ceived by her if it is sent to the care 879 of Angelo Cabrera in Maracaibo. Buenos noches,’ and the sound of his footsteps died away. CHAPTER: 3X. “ FOOL’S GOLD! ”’ THE dawn was breaking in the east, as only a tropic dawn can break, when we reached the landing. Boats were putting off in all directions for the ships, and our men were scattered along the beach, each laden with his accu- mulation of plunder, waiting an oppor- tunity to place it in safety on board of his ship. We went to the spot where we had left our boat, and were immediately hailed by a shout from a party of our men. Oakes told them at once that he wanted a boat to take us off to Mor- gan’s ship, and at length, after some de- murring, we got a crew to row us. Morgan himself was pacing the weather side of the quarter-deck when we boarded her, and he hailed Oakes at once. “Well, Oakes, who have you there? ”’ He looked curiously at Pedro, who accompanied us. Oakes pushed the Spaniard forward. “ Here is a man, captain, who says that he has come from Gibraltar, and that the place has been destroyed—” “What is that? Send him here at once! ”’ He paused in his walk and swung -to and fro above us with the sway of the ship on the water. ‘ Who is he?” “A man, captain, whom Upholme and I picked up last night in our wan- dering about the town and have brought to you, because he may be able to give you information of some value that will save us a dangerous delay. He says that he has come from Gibraltar—” Morgan gazed intently at him, and the man cringed at the poop-railing. “Tell me, what size garrison did you see in the town?” “Four hundred men, sefior, but they are not there now—”’ COPMICLOOOKS (E@)