Beadle's Dime Library No. 103 — page 9: what you’re looking at

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

ss ——_—— ee But the horseman drew his splendid white steed back at the gallows steps, and a cry broke from his lips: ‘**Fore God! please let me tole my poor massa goo’-by.” It was only a negro—the slave of the doomed man, It was Dave, the captain of the market lug- r. None had the heart to refuse him, and he sprung up the steps, eagerly pushing aside all who opposed him, in his excitement, and rushed to the side of Lance Grenville, half-clasping him in his arms, and muttering words unheard by the crowd. Whatever those words were, they had a magic effect on the prisoner—his arms were unpinion- ed, the cut rope falling at his feet, and in each band was a double-barreled pistol. Springing forward, he hurled the sheriff from the gallows platform to the ground, and with a mighty bound he was upon the back of his own steed. ‘‘ Stand aside, all!” In ringing tones the words broke from the precner lips, and the animal he bestrode unded wildly forward. There was a wild shout, several attempts at capture, the rattle of firearms, and the white steed was off like the wind, a crimson stream pouring down his white flank, but still bearing lis master on, In mad haste the officers of the law started in pursuit; but none were mounted, and the fugi- ae gained rapidly, and soon disappeared in the orest. But the crowd pressed on, and after a hard run reached the beach, whither the fugitive had gone. There they beheld the Grenville lugger, known to be the fastest sailer on the coast, standing off and on, half a mile from the shore, and a small boat pulling swiftly toward it. , At the oars were two negroes, tugging hard, and in the stern sat Launcelot Grenville, his hand upon the tiller. Upon the beach, beneath the shadow of the white cliffs, lay the steed—-foam-covered, blood- Stained and dead. Still looking, and poner cae to prevent, the spectators beheld the boat reach the lugger, and the fugitive and oarsmen spring on board. Then the boat was cast adrift, and the swift lugger stood down the coast, heading close in to- ward Landhaven Point, the home of Commo- dore Brainard. he cause of this move was soon known to the lookers-on. A horseman rode like the wind along the h, sprung from his steed, seized a small skiff, and went flying out to head off the lug- ger, which he soon boarded. It was Dave, the slave who had saved his master’s life. ‘Captain Dave,” as he was called, who had fearlessly and skillfully plotted to save Launce- lot Grenville from the gallows, and had success-. fully carried out his plot, and, when he saw, as he had expected, that he was forgotten in the excitement of the prisoner’s escape, he had fled for his life, and mounting a horse he had placed in waiting, had ridden away to reach the lug- ger down the coast. In the few words, spoken on the gallows, Dave had told his plot, severed the bonds of the prisoner, placed the pistols in his hands, and, with the reckless courage of his nature, ce ao had saved himself from an ignominious eath, CHAPTER XI. ARTHUR GRENVILLE’S STORY. I WILL now return to the schooner, which had become a charnel-house, as it were, through the mad revel of her imprisoned crew. When Captain Arthur Grenville’s startling cry made known that Freelance the Buccaneer was his own brother, the unfortunate and un- happy Lance, Commodore Brainard eepped ay forward and gazed fixedly at the dark, stern face of the dead chief. ‘‘ Before God! it is indeed your brother!” he exclaimed, and then he gave orders to have the body prepared for burial, while the dead buc- caneers were thrown into the sea. A moment did ay Sap Grenville kneel in si- lent grief, and then he arose, his face pale and full of sorrow. 2 P Poor Lance! to think such should be his end! ‘‘Commodore Brainard, he had a noble heart ag tl was his terrible sufferings that drove him to thi ‘* Launcelos Grenville, my brother, Freelance the Buccaneer, It is indeed hard to believe,” and he gazed upon the dead form, as his men bore it from the cabin, and forgetting his own st Merle the waif turned in pity upon iim. ‘‘He told me, sir, that circumstances, over which he had no control, made him a pirate, and he seemed so glad that I had saved your life,” said the youth, quietly. ‘Yes, he ever loved me as I loved him, as I love his memory now. ‘Fools! did they think that Lance could Merle, The Mutineer. ec raise hand aeninas my life?’ angrily said Ar- thur Grenville, referring to those who had, long years before, condemned him to death for a murder that had not been committed. ‘*Some time, my young friend, I will tell you the whole sad story of how he was wronged; but now let us to duty, for action will drown my thoughts. ain suppose you know all that tbe schooner contains? ‘Yes, sir; there is considerable booty on board,and a quantity of gold and jewels—lI have the key to the iron chest, which is here,” and Merle placed his foot upon a trap-door in the floor. ‘* The booty must go to the frigate’s crew; to what you wish help yourself.” ‘*‘ And the papers and private property of the chief, sir, I will turn over to you.” ‘IT thank you,” said Captain Grenville, sadly, and opening the trap-door a chest was revealed, bound with iron. This Merle also unlocked, and a rich treasure was before the eyes of the three, for Commo- dore Brainard was also present; it was the accu- mulation of years of crime—gold and jewels equal to many thousands of dollars. ‘* Boy, take that which you desire,” said Com- modore Brainard. +. The youth took up a broad band of gold, in which was set a single diamond of imperial size and beauty. ‘This | have often seen Captain Freelance wear; I will take it in remembrance of him—it is all I care for,” and he placed the ring upon the little finger of his left hand. ‘* Here is an inlaid box of rare workmanship. See, it is addressed to you!” and Captain Gren- ville handed the box to the youth, who eagerly glanced at the superscription. It was addressed as follows: ‘“*A LEGACY TO “MERLE THE WAIF ‘* FROM “WREELANCE THE BUCCANEER.” The box was locked, and no key was found to fit it, so the youth placed it aside, to awaita more fitting opportunity to open it. A bundle of papers marked with the chief’s name—‘‘ Launcelot Grenville,” were taken by his brother Arthur, who also appropriated a watch, which he knew had been the property of bis brother, long years before. Commodore Brainard then selected some cost- ly trinket from the store before him, and the ne was locked and turned over to the frigate’s purser, the contents to be divided as prize- money, upon arrival of the vessel in port. The rich booty in the schooner’s hold was then transferred to the frigate, and carpenters were set to work upon the buccaneer craft, and by sunset jury-masts had been rigged, sails bent, and the little craft was manned with a crew Captain Grenville himself taking command, and mreeing Merle on board with him. Shortly after dark the frigate and her prize set sail for Pensacola, to which port the former vessel had been destined when led off her course in pursuit of the buccaneer, who often before cleverly eluded his large and powerful foe. That night in the schooner’s cabin, fitted u for their accommodation, Arthur Grenville an Merle sat together. The former was looking over the private pa- pers left by his dead brother: the latter had opened the little box and was examining its con- tents. A few moments only had passed since Arthur Grenville had ceased s ing; he had been tell- ing the youth of the sad story of the past, and how Lance Grenville had been sin against, when charged with his murder. With angry brow and ringing tone he had said: ‘‘My brother accused of taking my life! Curses upon those who thus ac him, though I must confess that appearances were fearfully against him. ‘*But the very day that Lance escaped from the gallows, I arrived at home to confront his accusers; I arrived to find that, in flying from the hangman, he had shot dead the very man who had brought the misery upon him, and who had attempted to check his flight by seizing his bridle-rein. “It was a low villain—an old fisherman, by the name of Beal, whom, when mere boys, my brother and myself had caught sellin liquor to our negroes, and had severely unisbeds ‘He had then sworn to be reve upon us and fearfully he kept his word, though he lost his life by my brother’s hand—a just retribu- tion. ‘“* To to that wretch I owe it, that I now mourn my brother dead, and a buccaneer chief—the noted Freelance; to that wretch I owe it, for much misery he made me suffer, for it was his hand that struck me down upon the cliff that fatal night; it was Ais hand that stripped me of a part of my clothing and left it on the cliff, while I was carried out to sea in his little boat still unconscious by the blow upon my head which he had dealt me, for when he approached I dreaded no harm. 9 ‘* Yes, it was Beal, the fisherman, who bound me hand and foot, and tied to my feet a heavy anchor, and cast me into the sea. ‘But he had not counted upon two things; I was not dead, as he believed, and my feet and hands, fortunately, are remarkably small,” and with a grim smile Arthur Grenville held up those members to view. Then, after a moment’s silence, he continued: ‘“*T sunk down deep, very deep, when he threw me into the sea; but the cold water revived me, and after a hard struggle I slipped my hands through the ropes that bound my wrists, freed my feet, and rose to the surface, nearly dead from exhaustion. **Out on the moonlit waters, I saw my foe rowing shoreward rapidly; but I dare not call to him, so I floated until I was fully rested; then I struck out for the land. ‘*But the tide had been running out, and I was miles away, and gave up all for lost; but I struggled on for life, and soon a vessel passed near and the crew heard my hail, and I was taken on board, more dead than alive. ‘*It was days before I was able to tell my story, and I then found we were far north on our way to Portland, Maine. ‘‘ At length the vessel reached port, and at once I set out upon my return home, where I arrived the day of my brother’s escape from the gallows, and found my foe, Beal, the fisher- man, beyond my revenge. “But, my young friend, there is one thing that I could never find out—one mystery I coul never solve, and that is, who was the comrade of Beal in his act of villainy against my brother nd myself, for that he a confederate I am certain; the whole plot was too well arranged and carried out, to come from his thick brain. One of these days I may know.” ‘*‘ And Captain Free— I mean your brother, never wrote home after his flight?” asked Merle. ‘* No, we never knew, for years, what had be- come of him; the negro crew of the lugger had run him over to the mouth of the Mississippi river and there he caught an outward-bound vessel, and they returned bome, brave fellows, only when they heard of my arrival.” **And that was the last you ever heard of him?’ ‘No, I saw, when cruising in the Mediterra- nean, that an English packet-ship had been captured by a Moorish corsair, and among the names of those slain, was that of Lance Gren- ville, hence I believed him dead, and thus mourned for him.” ‘* His was indeed a sad fate, and now that he is dead, his virtues, not his sins, shall be remem- bered by me.” ‘“*You are a noble boy, and as you were the protege of my brother, so shall you be of mine. ‘“*1 will give up the sea now, and return tomy home on the Gulf, and you must go with me. Don’t say me nay, for I am unmarried; she, who was the innocent cause of the sorrows that fell upon Lance and myself, is now the wife of one of my boyhood friends—Rosal Abercrom- bie; she married him a year after the flight of my brother, and I hope she is happy. ‘** We will see her when we return home, for my friendship with her father carries me often to her home; but all the old love I felt for her is utterly gone—utterly gone,” and Arthur Gren- ville seemed musing with the past. After a while he said, earnestly, as if awak- ing from a painful dream: ‘* But you did not answer me; you will go with me to my home, and be as my own son?” ‘** Yes, sir, for I have nowhere else in the wide world to go—none to care for me,” and he spoke in a tone of deep sadness, that touched his com- panion greatly. Then he turned and resumed his examination of the little box, left him by Captain Freelance. Suddenly he sprung to bis feet, his face flush- ed ; aud in a trembling voice cried, excitedly: ‘This will — much, sir,” that you and I should know. I have here a written confession of the life of Launcelot Grenville: it incloses this miniature—see!” and Merle held upa small miniature ina double frame of massive gold, the rim set with diamonds. It contained two likenesses, superbly executed —one of a young man, the other of a maiden. Upon the back of one was engraven the name of * Launcelot,” upon the other the name of ** Zulah.” “Tt is my brother’s likeness, taken many years ago, and it is in the Moorish uniform ; how strange!” Then Arthur Grenville glanced at the other likeness, and said, slowly: ‘*Tt is a woman’s face and oh! how beauti- ful! Who can she be?” ; ‘‘ Her costume is Persian, sir,” said Merle, ** You are right; your letter may explain the mystery—read it! : e youth turned again to the box and took therefrom the closely written letter, or confes- sion; beneath it, pagers mm soft silk, was a large anchor of princely rubies, set in gold, and suspended to a necklace of immense diamonds, each one worth a small fortune—there were fif- ty of these precious, flawless stones, the same ee as the rubies forming the blood-red an- chor. JOO Gomme S) (Eo) - — ~eee-- O--l— —— -——. TC A I