Beadle's Dime Library No. 103 — page 11: what you’re looking at

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

ee — — by a slave who had been the special guard of Zuleh. ‘There we secured a boat, patched it up, and returned to the wreck, brought your mother’s body on shore and consigned it to the earth; then we moved the treasures to the island, with the vessel’s stores, and found a safe retreat to hide them in; but you needed care that could not be obtained there in that deserted and wild island, and I determined to go to the mainland. ‘Leaving the slave-to guard my treasure, and taking with me, in the boat, you, your Per- sain nurse and the man whom I said before had been my fellow-captive among the Moors, and who was my faithful friend, I sailed for the mainland of Mexico, and in due time arrived at Vera Cruz. ‘* Here I found the land shaken by a terrible revolution, and making myself known I was at once given an important command as a leader, which I heceytetl for I desired to drown, by stirring action, my deep sorrow at your moth- er’s death. ‘Placing you in the care of an old Mexican woman, and leaving with you your nurse, Al- lene, I sided with the Revolutionists. “ Before long I was transferred from a com- mand on land to one on the sea, and given a cruiser, a swift-sailing, wellarmed schooner; but shortly after the Revolutionist party were defeated on land, and the Government outlawed me as a pirate. “'Thus was it I became a buccaneer, Merle, and, from at first only cruising against my ene- mies, when, having to protect myself, I struck blows at the vessels of other nations, I soon drifted into illegal acts upon the high seas, that set a price upon my head, and made me at war with the world, under the name of Freelance the Buccaneer. ‘* Whenever I could, I went in disguise to visit er and when you were two years old it was hat I tattooed the red anchor over your heart, copying it from the ruby one I leave you in this x, and which, with the other things, was your mother’s, ‘Tt was a freak of mine to tattoo upon your white flesh the red anchor, the symbol of your mother’s family; but it caused me to recognize you, when I saw it, as you lay ill in my cabin, and your words of delirium, calling upon Allene, your Persian nurse, and your telling me your name was Merle, aided in the recognition, for your mother’s name was Zulah Merle, and I had named you after her. “When you were five years old, dreading treachery toward you, after a letter from the old Mexican woman at whose house I had left ou, I sent my ever-faithful friend to bring you Ome, for this man had followed my fortunes, since we had left the Moorish hills together. “From that day, when I landed him on the lexican coast near Tampico, I have never seen him since, and I fear that he is dead, for never could he be guilty of treachery toward me. “When he failed to be with you at the ren- dezvous appointed, I went myself in disguise to Vera Cruz, and there the blow that fell upon me was almost ter than I could bear, for you had been taken from the home at which I ad left you, and the old Mexican woman, and Allene, I learned, were dead; they had been ee by those who stole you from their protec- on. ‘Of him whom I had sent for you, I could learn nothing, and, to save my own life, for I was recognized, I had to fly again to my schooner, _* Since that time I have often, in disguise, visited Mexico; but never could I learn aught of you or my faithful friend, and I came to the conclusion at last, that you had both been slain by = ra ” . : magine then, Merle, my great joy, when more than ten years after, picked ou up at sea in an open t, and learned that you had been, since you could remember, a sailor-boy, drifting from vessel to vessel, until at last your ship went down in a storm, and you, and those found dead by your side, were the only sur- vivors. ‘ ‘You are reserved, Merle, for some great end, and I rejoice that I have it in my power to make you a prince among men, for, still, se- creted in that wild island, is the vast treasure J placed there, and to which each year 1 have ad- ded largely from the richly-freighted ships that sail the seas. ‘ ‘‘ But one other besides myself knows of that hidden treasure, and he is the faithful guardian of the isle, for I believe my friend is dead, as I told you; he also knew. “To you, Merle, my son, I leave it all, and with it Tfeol that you can do much good, for never one man ever possessed such riches as you will find there. ‘ ‘“Now, to you I give the locality of the island, and tell you how to find him who guards the treasure, and who will guide you to it; SO, mark well the route and the instructions I give ou: “Sail from Vera Cruz due east ten leagues ; then sail fifteen leagues due—” But here the confession ended; something had caused Lance Grenville to leave off abruptly his writing. SSS — Merle, The Mutine t. 11 Perhaps it was a call on deck, to note some | everything was let fly, the barge went over, and strange sail; perhaps the coming into the cabin | all on board were thrown into the water, where of him to whom it was addressed; but, what- | they clung for their lives to whatever would ever the cause, the confession was never con- not made known. For some minutes the two sat in silence in the cabin of the schooner, neither seeming to care to speak, after what had been read by the youth, of his father’s career. At length Merle spoke, and in a tone of deep feeling: “The lost treasure I care little for, Captain Grenville, for, in these likenesses of my father | and mother, I have that which all the riches on the island would not buy,” and he gazed fondly upon the beautiful face of his mother and the handsome, somber face of his unfortunate fa- ther. “You belong to me now, Merle, and you must return home with me, for I will hear no refusal.” ““T will go with you, sir, and I will remain until [am older; then I must enter upon some useful career in life, for I feel that I have been spared death for some mysterious end; what it will be who can tell?” ‘* You are brave to a fault, and you.are am- bitious, and I predict for you a brilliant fu- ture. CHAPTER XIV. AN UNHEEDED WARNING. ONE afternoon, two years after the coming of Merle to live at Grenville Grange, as the plan- tation home was called, the youth was return- ing from a fishing cruise down the coast, ac- companied by two negro slaves as a boat’s crew. He was running swiftly along before a strong breeze, when looking astern Merle observed that ajsevere squall was brewing, and knowing the impossibility of reaching the shelter of the little cove in front of the mansion, two leagues dis- tant, he lowered away his sails, shipped his masts and castanchor, to await the blowing over of the gale. His craft was of the whale-boat model, but much larger and broader in the beam, and was provided with a long scope of rope and a large rapnel, which served them as an anchor when hing in deep water. Shortly after he had taken in his sails, a man- of-war’s barge, mares two lug-sails, came rushing along before the breeze, and threatening to run under if the squall struck it. At the tiller sat an officer whom, at a glance, Merle recognized; it was Wilber Sebastian, who had been a lieutenant on the frigate at the time of the capture of the buccaneer schooner. In the stern sheets sat two maidens, whom Merle did not remember to have ever seen be- fore, and it was evident ata glance that they did not realize their danger. The coxswain sat,on the after thwart, the main sheet in his hand, and ready to ease off at a word from the officer, while the halliards and fore-sheet were tended by two seamen. These six were all in the boat, and everything appeared in order to take in sail with the great- est dispatch. At a glance, as the barge drove on, Merle saw all this, but his experienced sailor’s eye told him that the first puff of the l might cap- size the boat, and, in that latitude, he knew how suddenly the winds swept down upon the waters, one could scarcely tell from where; hence he determined, though it seemed meddlesome upon his part, to hail the boat as it passed, and put Lieutenant Sebastian upon his guard. As the barge came abreast of his own boat, quietly riding at anchor, and was driving swiftly by, Merle hailed, in his clear, ringing tones: ‘Ho, the barge!” “Ay, ay,” answered Wilber Sebastian, some- what gruftly. ‘**Pardon me, sir, but you had better take in sail,” and Merle pointed to the squall astern. 4 k to yourself, sir; I sail this boat,” an- prily replied the young officer. erle’s face flushed, and from his lips broke the quick retort: ‘* A true seaman, sir, will always take warn- ing.” ‘A sneering laugh was the answer from Wilber Sebastian, and the swept on; but Merle saw that all in it glanced quickly astern, not ex- cepting the haughty officer in c . ‘Dave, “we mu repare to anchor by the boat will surely’ capsized. when thet, binck ca when t black mys | “Mone : “ Ay, ay, Merle, just as you says, sir, an’ I knows you is right,” : lied the old who was none other than the one that Ze) bravely aided Lance Grenville in his flight near- ly twenty years before. ‘If we are driven past the barge, we cannot ull to windward, if needed, and if we anchor y the bow, in swinging round we may go — 80 we'll anchor by the stern and to wind- ward. A moment more and the necessary prepara- tious were made; and not an instant too soon, for the squall broke on the sea, and, though eesti lle ene — mmm ee — support them, tinued, and the locality of the treasure isle was | A moment more and Merle was at hand to rescue them, and while Dave and his compan- ion anchored the boat and attended to the line, the youth divested himself of his coat and boots and sprung into the sea. A bold stroke brought him to one of the maid-} ens, and with a word of encouragement he seized her in his arms, and the next instant she | had been drawn on board his own craft. Seeing that Wilber Sebastian was swimming toward the boat, with the other maiden, Merle aided one of the seamen who could not swim, and calling to the others to follow, the whole party were soon rescued from their most peril- ous situation, by one whose warning had been unheeded, and but for whom all would have been drowned. A short and severe blow, and the squall passed away as suddenly as it had come, and Wilber Sebastian said in no pleasant tone, for he felt angry and humiliated at what had occurred: ‘‘ Now, sir, I will right my barge and relicve you of our company.’ ** You had better’ let your barge drift in, sir, while you all return with me,” said Merle, quietly. “‘T wish no advice, sir; if I should ask it, it will not be from a boy.” ‘* Wilber Sebastian, how dare you speak thus to i who has just saved our lives? For shame, sir It was the maiden whom Merle had rescued that spoke, and her eyes flashed with anger. She was scarcely more than sixteen, as grace- ful as a sylph, and as beautiful as a fairy—a child-woman, as it were, whom to look upon was to love. The other maiden was her senior yy two years, and also beautiful, but of a different style, and the resemblance to Wilber Sebastian proved that she was his sister. ‘Oh, Mildred! don’t speak so, for my brother should certainly know what to do, better than this young man,” said the sister, coldly. ‘** He has not proven it, certainly, Estelle.” ‘‘Miss Monteith is inclined to severe,” al- most sneered Wilber Sebastian. ‘*] am sorry you think so, Wilber; but life is too precious a gift to play with, and the result having proven as this young gentleman predict- ed, I could not but give him credit for knowing what he was about.” ‘‘If Lieutenant Sebastian desires to continue on in his own barge, 1 have nothing to say ainst it; but,” with a glance around at the ouds, ‘‘ the blow does not seem yet over, and those who will remain in my boat are certainly ble os = rei forbid, I will boa you do no ; right m t. sir,” sneered Wilber Sebastian. 4 . ‘*On the contrary, sir, I will aid you,” and Merle sprung into the sea, and, followed by the coxswain and two seamen, soon had the barge on a level keel again, the young officer looking aa the while with the most insulting noncha- nee, A few moments more passed, and the barge was bailed out, and all in readiness once more. ‘*Haul alongside, coxswain!’’ ordered the a aang and the two boats lay broadside to- gether. ‘* Now, ladies, I will aid you into the barge and we will no longer trouble this experienc young sailor,” and Sebastian held out his hand to Mildred Monteith. “Thank you, Wilber, but I will accept the kind offer of this gentleman, and remain where lam,” was the quiet reply. “Why, you certainly do not mean it?’ said the officer. ‘*T certainly do.” “Why, may I ask, do you desert my protec- _ —_ ‘ety ies another?” and it was evident t Wilber Sebastian was getting ve ‘ ‘* Upon the principle that Mi te child dreads the fire,” was the calm rejoinder. The face of the lieutenant grew black: but he ground back in his teeth some angry words, and said, hoarsely, turning to his sister: + Estelle, set Miss Monteith a lesson in obedi- ence. Estelle Sebastian glanced around at the low- ering clouds, and then at the land, nearly two lea distant; she loved her brother devoted- ly; but she loved her life more, and felt safer where she then was. | “Brother, why not letus remain here? Your, boat is all wet.” It did not strike the maiden that she had been overboard, and wasas wet as the boat; but any excuse is better than none. “As you girls will insist _ trusting your- selves to a mere boy, and a storm coming on, I feel it my = ste 5 Sw you,” and so sayin he grasped Mildred Monteith, who was n to him, around her waist to place her in the a ** Hold, sir! Miss Monteith, is it your wish to remain under my protection? There was a certain ring in the voice of Merle, calm as he spoke, that caused Wilber Se- bastian to hesitate. (EO MUG OOO! <Sn(GO)