Beadle's Dime Library No. 103 — page 2: what you’re looking at

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

Merle, the Mutineer: oy THE BRAND OF THE RED ANCHOR. A Romance of Sunny Lands and Blue Waters. —_——_ BY COLONEL PRENTISS INGRAHAM, AUTHOR OF ‘‘THE DARE DEVIL,” ‘‘THE CRE- TAN ROVER,” ‘‘ THE PIRATE PRINCE,” ‘‘ PREELANCE, THE BUCCANEER,”’ ETC., ETC. CHAPTER L. THE SEA-HAWKS. ‘‘ Grvz way, men! there lies your game!” The clear, trumpet-like voice rung out stern in the darkness—a darkness almost tangible, for inky clouds hung low in the heavens, and their shadows, trailing over the waters, made them as black as midnight. No land was visible—no light penetrated the gloom—only the ebony skies and the dead-black sea, as calm as the pulseless bosom, for not a - breath fanned the waters, and a silence, like that which broods in the tomb, hung over all. Like trailing serpents, creeping upon a com- mon prey, half a dozen dark objects swept noiselessly over the placid waters, grim and threatening. Like a phantom, as silent and as weird-look- ing, a schooner lay upon the ocean, and directly in the path of the gliding boats, » The storni-clouds, the ink-dyed waters, the motionless vessel, and the crawling boats, were all that the eye of man could see in that mid- night darkness. ‘Give way, men! there lies your game!” The ringing order echoed far over thesea, and was answered by a wild cheer from a hundred throats. But the shouts upon those brave lips were drowned by a roar and crash that shook the very sea, and the blackness of night was changed into lurid light, as a dozen brazen mouths burst forth with defiance from the crouching, gaunt hull of the schooner, and a cruel, iron hurri- oo tore relentlessly through timbers, flesh and ne. , ‘There lies your game, men!” It was the same ringing voice—louder, clearer and undaunted by the iron storm that had burst upon the devoted boats. Another cheer answered—fainter than the other, for many lips were sealed in death, and many more were moaning in agony ; byt on rushed the boats, driven by arms of , and the combat of life or doom was begun; the schooner no longer appeared like a phantom, but rather like a blazing hell upon the waters, for upon her * yg somneer decks were men in the image of like fiends broke loose from an Tadern gh g, bleeding, fall- ing, rhe , yet still grapplin out & with death to astery over their fellow-beings. For a short while only could such a combat rage—the combatants were mortal: then a change came, for the gallant leader of the assail- ants was struck down, though not conquered for he half-arose, and still held his shattered cutlass on guard, to ward off the half-dozen death- blows aimed at his beart. His followers had been beaten back from his side; he was alone confronting his foes, and they knew no mercy, and their blades were thirsty for his life; yet no suppliant cry escaped his lips; he would die ere he would beg for quar- ter to those before him—those whom he had hoped to subdue. own — the wea toward the defense- less breast, driven by hands crime-stained and relentless; but suddenly there came a flash of light, and the ring of l “ie steel, as one bright blade beat back the life-searching cut- lasses, ‘‘Back, hounds! You shall not slay a dis- armed and fallen man!” The voice was boyish, yet stern and in deadly earnest—the speaker a mere youth of sixteen, who had sprung fearlessly between the fallen man and his doom. ‘‘ Rise, sir, and retreat with your men; quick, or it will be too late.” The man, bleeding from several ugly wounds, sprung to his feet, glanced at the angry faces confronting bim, looking grim and inhuman by the light of the battle-lanterns, and then turned his gaze upon the youth, who still stood between him and danger. : ‘*Boy, you have saved my life. We shall meet again, and then I will give you yours in return Ere one of his foes could prevent, the brave man bounded along the deck, and springing over the bulwarks, was drawn on board of his own boat, which had lingered there, loath to leave their gallant leader in the power of an im- placable enemy. With wild cries of rage and disappointment the schooner’s crew rushed forward, and poured a hot fire upon the flying boats, bearing back _ shall we fire upon them?” _her—ha! I have it—stand ready, all, to stri Merle, The Mutineer. _— but one-half the number they bad brought to | —I will pass to leeward and lay to until the the attack; but strong arms dragged them | gale blows over,” replied the chief, through his swiftly through the black waters, and the _ trumpet, and he swept by under the stern of the gloom soon hid them from view, and darkness | huge vessel and nota cable’s length away. and silence again rested upon the deep—no, not But not to lay to, as the chief had said, for, silence, for the moans of the wounded and the | like a mad racer, the little vessel scudded away death-cries of the dying arose from the vessel’s | out of danger, jusé as the storm struck the sea, deck, and were caught up and borne away on | while the stern man who guided its destinies, the air. said grimly, and with a shadow of triumph in Then there burst from a score of voices a dan- | his tones: gerous cry against one on that schooner’s deck ‘‘That was a bold game to play, but I have —one who stood silent and alone, glancing out | won; if those boats have not put back under the into the pitchy gloom. | shelter of the land, they will surely go down in - Hang the traitor! Up to the yard-arm with | this blow.” the boy! The youth started, and faced toward those who threatened him, while his right hand drop- ped quickly upon his cutlass-hilt, his left upon the butt of a pistol. ‘* Run him up to the yard-arm!” The cry was loud and threatening, and there followed the rush of many feet—a shout of warning, a shot, a open oa sound of steel meeting bone, and then yells of triumph. ‘‘Now, up with him, lads!” shouted a stern voice, and from the deck arose a dark mass of writhing humanity, to dangle between sea and CHAPTER I. HEAVEN FORBIDS! ** AND I say he shall die, if my own knife has to find his heart.” ‘You are right, shipmate; he must die, for he is a traitor.” _ AY, and one whom the chief intends to make his second in command,” ‘*Had we done what he did, the chief himself would have cut us down; but he seems strangely drawn toward the boy.” ‘* Were he his own son, it should not save him; ay, and if he depends on him, it will be at the risk of his own life.” ‘You seem terribly hard on the boy, ship- mates; how has he injured you?” It was the only voice of two-score men, ‘‘The chief! The chief!” crouching down forward, while the schooner The cry broke in terror from a dozen lips, | drove on like a mad spirit, that had been raised and the wild crew shrunk back from the sweep indefense of the youth, and all eyes turned upon of his single arm. him, ‘“ Answer! Whom have you hung?” ‘* What wrong hashe done us, say you? Why ‘‘The youth, sir; he was a traitor,” shouted from a mere waif,a boy, he has been made an sky. t By the Heaven above! who hangs there?” Like guilty wretches all turned at the op tones and beheld a tal] form bound over the bul- warks and stand in their midst. one of the crew. officer over and to-night saved the life of a ‘‘God in heaven! if that boy is dead, every | man who has been our most persistent enemy! man on this schooner shall rue the deed,” yelled | | tell you, shipmates, that boy will yet run our the chief, and springing forward he ages necks in the noose if we do not first string him a who held | up. seized the rope from the hands of those it, and lowered the swinging form to the deck, ‘** Now is as good a time as any, and let us de- mand him from the chief, and take him if he where it lay ie and motionless. ‘‘He lives! It is well for you, accursed | refuses to give him up, which he will of course hounds, that his heart is not stilled,” hissed the | do.” chief, and raising the insensible youth in his A murmur of general assent greeted the words strong arms he bore him into the cabin. of the speaker, and with one accord they arose A few moments after he was again on deck, | to their feet. and the schooner was rocking upon the waves The schooner was driving along at a fearful that were lashed into restlessness by a fresh | pace, and the gale was sweeping the sea in fury, breeze—the forerunner of tbe storm that soon | while the clouds hung like black funeral vails upon the waters. must burst upon the waters. ‘*Up with that anchor! let fall those sails! We An hour before, the schooner had run its bold must run out of here under cover of the storm, | way under the very guns of the frigate, and or with the morning we will have every boat | having gained an offing, the fearless player of from the frigate to attack us.” the desperate game for life had left his second Every trace of anger had gone from the chief’s | in command at the wheel, and gone down into voice, and the crew sprung to work with a will, | the cabin to look after his young protege, while anxious to redeem themselves in bis eyes. his crew on deck were plotting against the Quickly the schooner bent to the breeze, and | brave boy, who lay weak and suffering upon a forging through the waters flew like a sea-bird | lounge, yet now returned to consciousness. : through the darkness, ber chief at her helm, and As the ee of the cabin fell upon a silence that could be felt on board. the youth, it displayed a form of elegance, and et of strength far above the average of one of Presently the chief was joined by one, who came from the cabin, and said, quietly: is years, which could not have been more than ‘*The boy is recovering, sir. sixtes : : ‘¢1t is well that he is; now tell me about the Yet, in spite of his age, there was a certain attack.” manliness about him that indicated his ability to play a man’s part. is face was a study for an artist, who de- sired womanly beauty and manhood combined, for the features were faultless, the eyes large, intensely black, and full of fire, and the teeth milk-white and even. Only the fearless, resolute mouth, yet un- shaded by a mustache, took from the face the beauty that would have best suited a woman. His hair was wavy, dark brown, and worn ‘‘ Well, sir, all was in readiness, as you order- ed, and we fired as soon as we caught sight of the boats, which was not until they were almost upon us, as they came with muffled oars.” ‘‘ How many boats, sir?’ ‘“ Six, captain, bearing tally a hundred men.” ‘* A large force: the lads deserve credit for beating them back. Go on, sir.” ‘“Well, sir, we beat them back, after a terri- bly hot fight, and would have captured their leader, who was gees wounded, had not the long, falling upon the collar of his sailor shirt, youth prevented, and allowed him to escape.” | which, with white duck pants, comprised his ‘‘The boy did right; and for this those devils | attire. called bim a traitor, and would bave taken his Around the neck was a dark-blue mark left life?” by the cruel rope, and his face was as white as ‘‘ Yes, sir, for I was powerless to prevent.” marble, and as emotionless, as he lay upon the ‘Bah! I prevented, and thank Heaven I ar- | lounge, until the chief entered; then a bright rived as I did. I bad just landed, on my way to | light shot into his eyes, and a smile curled the cavern, heard the attack, and returned just | lip, as he held forth his hand and said, calmly: intime— What is it, sir?’ and the chief turned “You saved me from those devils, who upon a seaman who approached. would have hung me, because I would not allow ‘“The boats are off our starboard quarter, sir; them to strike down an unarmed and wounded man. The chief advanced quickly and took the hand, throwing himself into an easy-cbair as he did so. He was a man of massive frame, clad in an undress uniform, and with a dark, bearded face that was bold and reckless in the extreme. ‘‘- Yes,” he said, in his deep, though not un- “No: it would show the frigate just where we are.” ** Sail ho!” The cry came from forward, and in tones that were tremulous. ‘‘ Where-away?” asked the chief, calmly; then he added, quickly: leasant tones, “‘ I have more to thank you for ‘Tt is the frigate, and rigbt in our course; we | Merle, than I imagined, for I have just learne must put about or pass in a cable’s length of | that Arthur Grenville was the man who led the the | attack upon the schooner, and it was his life e us | that you saved.” “Yes, sir: it was the same officer whom we met in New Orleans some weeks since, and who has so often endeavored to capture the schooner. You know him then?” A strange smile crossed the face of the man; but he aid quietly: ‘‘ Yes I know him well.” Then rising es he began to pace the cabin, in spite of the bounding of the vessel. “ Ahoy the schooner! Bravo, Grenville, for For some moments he continued his unsteady your success!” walk, as though too nervous to sit still, and then “ Ay, ay, sir! We have the schooner all right | turned suddenly toward the youth: SS 7 ~GOmMmilecbDoo schooner of canvas, for the scorm wills soon,” Then, to the surprise and alarm of his crew, their captain still held on his course, directly for the frigate, which, under storm-sails, was stand- ing off and on off the entrance to the little inlet, in which the schooner had been entrapped. Nearer and nearer the two vessels drew to- ote ag? and frequently there came a loud hail rom the frigate’s deck. co \ : ss j | |