Beadle's Dime Library No. 103 — page 21: what you’re looking at

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

take the helm? Keep her as she is, east by south- east.” A moment after Merle stood by the side of the honest seaman, who had been placed in the cabin. ‘‘ Well, lad, are you in a bad way?” he asked, kindly, grasping the hand of the sailor. ‘Yes, capt’in, l’m about shippin’ my cable, sir, an’ I hopes to head straight for the port 0’ Heaven, seein’ as how Capt’in Christ hain’t goin’ ter be too hard on a poor salt-water sinner, as hadn’t had the Gospil log-book read ter him much, an’ is only a poor sailor.” ‘* Jack, 1 hope it is not as bad as that; let me see your wound?’ and Merle bent over bim. ‘* {t’s atween wind and water, sir, right in my bread magazine, an’ I know as how I’ve got to strike my flag on this cruise.” The wound was through the body, and Merle felt that the man was already dying, and, while his voice trembled, he said, in earnest tones: ‘* That should have struck me, Jack, and not you, for I caused you to suffer as you do.” ‘* Now haul in lively, capt’in, on that kind o’ slack, kase it’s not hittin’ the hull or riggin’ o’ truth, beggin’ yer pardon, sir; but we was ter be lashed so that every man ’on ther skunner would ha’ looked like the stars an’ stripes, sir, in less than a week, ef you hadn’t let fly that tongue shot at that onhuman brute, as is Capt’in Sebast’in.” ‘* He seemed crazed with his power, Jack, and I spoke when I could remain silent no longer; I was not reared in the navy, to keep my tongue between my teeth, and my eyes closed, while a cruel commander flayed his crew alive; but that is past now, and the end has come, and we are rh oven upon the waters, because I spoke as I ‘You was a man, sir, an’ you proved it, an’ ef I'd ’a’ died fer it, I wouldn’t ha’ seen you hit another blow. As’twas, ef yer’d only said ther word yer back would never ha’ seen a scar.” ‘I know it, my faithful friend; but tell me, is there nothing I can do to cheer your last mays for Jack, old fellow, you are near your end.’ ‘* 1 know it, capt’in; but I think I has left ther breakers ahind me, fer it looks like plain sailin’ ahead; ther’s moonlight on the waters, an’ ther Pilot has got me in han’, an’ I’m steerin’ straight ter port, an’ must drop anchor soon an’ report ter ther Admiral aloft.” The man’s mind seemed wandering for an in- stant, but quickly recovering himself he said: “ Captiin, you knows, sir, that I was one o’ ther men in ther barge as capsized, one evenin’ near your home, an’ twice you saved my life, an’ ther life o’ thet Capt’in Sebast’in, an’ it’s thet what made him hate you, ’m thinkin’. as ver rarest verself a better sailor then as was his- self. ‘‘ Now, capt’in, I overheard him lettin’ run his tongue one night in ther cabin o’ ther skunner an’ Lufften’t Alden an’ thet blasted pill man—” “ Surgeon Bethune, Jack?” ‘* Yes, sir, they was all in there tergither, an’ grog was so plentiful the’r in’ards was allafioat, which made the’r tongues go back an’ fill like a ship as had no rudder, an’ yerself was ther inemy as they was arter, kase yer had not only saved ther life o’ Capt’in Sebast’in, but yer had cut him out 0’ ther beauty as he was headin’ fer, with a view 0’ splicin’ with her in wedlock, be- in’ as how her parents had left her more money then a fleet’s purser hag got on pay-day. ‘Now you run acrost his bows, capt’in, an’ from that day he hated you, as did his sister too, kase the grog made him let out as how she want- ed ter marry you herself, an’ was mad as a sea- cook, when you loved tot pe. gt “Gan this be true, Jack?” asked Merle, with intense surprise, , ‘‘Tt are as + da as ther log-book o’ God, sir, an’ what is mote, she planned with her brother ter git bed Out o’ ther way, an’I heard ther grog-suckers gay as how they’d make it enter- tainin’ fer yerself when oe got you in blue water, an’ ef yer comed back, to git ther purty clipper as a consort, it w’u’d surprise them. son I goes to see ther leddy, bein’ as how I couldn’t git; word ter yerself, an’ she was away from her home, but I writ her a epistle, seein’ as how h ni er gin me her address, for which sathe I gin him five dollars o’ lawful money, af’ the day we sailed I writ her ag’in, as I couldwt run athwart yerself fer a talk, an’ that is bbw the yacht come to foller in our wake, as I heayn ther yo mate tell yer last night, ‘cause that leetle gal is a oncommon saucy cruiser’ when she gits ready fer action, an’ we'd ha’ seer fun had ther yacht caught ther skunner, Pm thinkin’.” “But what motive had Sebastian for all this y toward me?” e was ogee back and marry yer con- to be. nie started: he knew now why Wilber Se- an had offered him the lieutenancy, and the) acted as he did; it was to remove him asa rival] from his path! "That man and m Jack—J have sworn it.” , *T hope so, an’ ef I kin git a leave o ther Ad- mir‘) alot, [ll cruise down in speerit an’ see yer’ tackle him, sir; but my cable's slippin’ fast shall yet meet again, —E a ee Merle, The Mutineer. an’ I wishes ter ax yer ef yer’ll bury me decent- like in deep blue water, an’ when yer is cruisin’ ‘long quiet with yer pretty consort, will ther two o’ yer some time speak a kind word of old Jack Buntline, an’ sling a prayer aloft ter ther Admiral, ter gi’7n me as easy a berth as He can convenient do, bein’ as how I’m a stran_er ter Him.” ‘* Jack, Jack, my noble fellow, you shall never be forgotten by me, and when 1 strike Wilber Sebastian I will make the blow stronger for your sake.” ‘“‘Il’m oncommon glad ter hear yer say so, capt’in, an’ I’il make bold ter tell ther Admiral, through His Son, Capt’n Christ, all I knows about thet sea-sarpint, Sebastian, so as how he’ll never git into ther port o’ Heaven. ’Tain’t right nohow fer him ter think he kin drap anchor on t’other side o’ God’s equator; but gin my han’ a squeeze, cap’in, fer somehow I hain’t got no grip now, bein’ as how Death has run me afoul.” Grasping the honest hand Merle sat by the side of the dying hero, listening to his rambling talk until his voice grew fainter and fainter, and, with four words his lips ceased to move, for upon them Death had placed his great seal. Those four last words upon the lips of Jack Buntline, and breathed out in a clear, stern tone, were: ‘* Let fall the anchor!” True to his promise, Merle had the humble seaman buried in the deep sea, the yacht being brought to at midnight for the purpose, and the youth reciting the service for the dead over the body, ere it was launched into the blue depths of the Gulf. A few days more and, in the darkness of night, the yacht ran into the harbor of Vera Cruz, and, bidding adieu to Merton Ainslie and the faithful negro crew, Merle and his followers went ashore, leaving the fleet vessel to run back to Havana as he had promised it should, Upon landing in the city, Merle saw his faith- ful comrades comfortably cared for in sailor boarding-houses, and giving to each of them a few dollars, for he had plenty of money with him, he bade them farewell, after a few words of advice, for them to ship on the first outward- bound vessels on which they could get berths, | and, upon their arrival in the Uni States to immediately communicate with him, by letter at New Orleans, for it was his intention to bring charges against Wilber Sebastian, and then to stand his trial for mutiny upon the high seas. Seeking a hotel, which he had noticed on sev- eral other visits to Vera Cruz, Merle secured mo apervers and, for the first time since eavin ew Orleans im the schooner, threw himself down to find an untroubled rest. It was late in the day when Merle arose, and after a substantial breakfast, strolled forth for a walk, and to secure other clothing, for he was still attired in his uniform as a naval officer. Having dressed himself in the picturesque suit of a Mexican ranchero he went on a voyage of discovery through the town and learned that Wilber Sebastian had sailed from Vera Cruz the day before, for Havana, in company with by cutter that had also been sent in pursuit of im. While he was gleaning these particulars, the Castle of San Juan de Uloa thundered a salute to an armed vessel just coming into the harbor. “*It is the Isabella, the cruiser of Captain De Silva; he was close on my wake. ‘IT must be careful for a few days.” _So saying, Merle went to see about the fugi- tive crew, and place them on their guard, and found that a number of them had already ship- ed on vessels bound for the United States, and the others expected soon to follow. Warning them of their danger if recognized by any of the crew of the Isabella, Merle re- traced his way to his hotel and sought his room; but he was anxious to see what was said of him in the United States, and went out to get a New Orleans ag _, A vessel had just arrived, and bringing with it late Bigg one of which he secured, and hesitated in the plaza to read the headings, while a bitter smile crossed his face: “MERLE, THE MUTINEER! ‘‘An American Naval officer Leads a Mutiny on his Vessel, kills those who oppose him and turns Pirate. ‘THE MUTINEERS CAPTURE A SPANISH VESSEL! ‘They are taken by the Spanish Sloo of-war Isabellat ss “THE GOVERNOR-GENERAL CoNDEMNS THEM TO Diz! ‘* Merle, the protege and adopted son of Ca in Arthur Grenville, formerly a distinguished officer of our Navy, has been the perpetrator of a high-handed outrage upon the high seas. ** Formerly lieutenant under the famous Free- ap the Buccaneer, though but a boy in years, Q— ‘*Senor, that is of too much interest to you to read in public.” Merle started and turned quickly; in the ab- | sorbing interest of what he read, he had forgot- ten that he stood in the public court of the hotel. 21 As his eyes were raised from the paper they fell upon the handsome face of Andrea Angelos, the man who had been appointed his execu- tioner! CHAPTER XXVII. THE MONTE PRINCE. UPON recognizing who it was that stood be- fore him, Merle was astounded, and his first thought was to strike Captain Angelos to the earth and then make his escape; but he saw a kindly look in the Cuban’s face, who, after his warning, bowed and passed on. Merle at once sought his room, and throwing himself into a chair began to meditate as to what was best to be done, for he felt that it would soon be known to others that he was in the hotel. Just then there came a tap upon his door, and, rising, with his hand upon a pistol, for he was determined not to be taken without a desperate resistance, he said, calmly: ‘* Come in!” The door swung on its hinges and the elegant form and handsome face of Captain Angelos ene visible; but no Spanish guard followed m. ‘“Enter, senor! In what way can I serve you?” The Cuban obeyed, turned the key in the lock and came forward ere he replied: ‘* By not being so reckless as to expose your- self again, with Spanish officers in Vera Cruz on your track.” ‘‘ You are kind, senor, very kind; why is it l do not find in you an enemy?’ ‘For several reasons, sir; first, I have heard the story of your life from the lips of the Senor- ita DeSilva.” és Ha!” ‘* Yes, she visited you in your cellin the Moro, and I will be frank with you, and tell you that she is my promised wife. ‘*Once you did her a favor, and Rena De Si)- va is one who would never forget a kindness, or _ forgive an injury, and hence it was she tried to | save you from death, when she recognized in _ you one who had served her more than words | can express.” ‘‘The senorita, and you, senor, are kind to think so; the service I rendered has been repaid a hundred times over.” ‘*Tt was repaid as best the senorita could re- | pay it, but she dreaded the risk you ran, senor. | By the Sainted Apostles! but I never saw a bolder, braver deed than your escape. Your hand, Senor Merle, for mine is offered as man to man, notwithstanding a few days since I faced you as your executioner.” Merle readily grasped the Cuban’s hand, and said, quietly: “The senorita planned the escape, and cir- cumstances aided in carrying it out; now that all is over it seems very easy of accomplish- ment.” ‘“‘[t is modest in you to say so; you had sail on the yacht in two minutes, and gained hours’ start of us—that is from the time when we got to an offing, where we could lay our course as you did.” ‘‘ And I owe it, in a great measure, to Captain Andrea Angelos that we escaped; the muskets of his marines were not loaded ?” ‘** With ball, no, and I’ll be joked on the poor marksmapship of my men; but, let that go; they did not know the cheat, for [drew the bul- let out of every gun myself—hold, senor, I did it selfishly, I assure you, for the Senorita Rena begged it of me as a favor to her; how could I refuse?” ‘“‘T do not wonder that you would do any- thing for that noble woman, senor, and I will remember her until my life ends; nor will you be forgotten, Senor Angelos, as 1 owe much to ou. cs The padre told me that the muskets of the marines were not to be loaded, and in this was our greatest hope of escape, as it was some time before the other troops present could be brought up to fire on us.” ‘‘ With how many men did you escape, senor, may I ask?” ; ‘“*T reached the yacht with thirty out of corey: seven, including myself; five, of the badly wounded, have since died—twenty-five of us landed here.” “Tt thrills me to think of it, Now, Senor Merle, I hope you intend returning to the Uni- ted States to prosecute your commander, for the Senorita De Silva, as I told you, made me aware of all that had happened.” ‘Yes, I intend to bring charges against Cap- tain Sebastian, and I doubt not but that I can break him of his commission; but then I will settle with him personally,” and a dangerous gleam flashed in the speaker’s eyes. ‘‘ He deserves the worst punishment you can inflict upon him,” and the two were silent for a moment. Then Merle asked: _ ‘Did you come here in search of me and my men?” ‘Yes, senor; we were in a fog as to which course you had taken, and Captain De Silva headed at once to Vera Cruz, though I do not think he was very anxious to overhaul! you.” COMER OOKS ~ ~~ A ee See we 5. & ———