Beadle's Dime Library No. 109 — page 12: what you’re looking at

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

{ |} a Nyt | -—-—+ a ee ee 3 . —_———— oe — we elie Sie a f 12 resigned from the navy, and the duty would be a pleasure to me.” ‘ Then you accept my terms?’ ‘That this secret shall die with you, if I kill BS of the Red Hand?” ‘**T accept, for this day have I quarreled with the y Grace, and if I win a name upon the seas, she may retract, for I dearly love her, woman.” ‘‘As much as one of your nature can love what is pure and lovely, boy; but you have promised?’ “a Yes.” ** And you vow it?” ce Yes.’ ‘By the Cross?” ae es.” ‘“*By the grave! and by perdition! by high eaacs Ht thy hope hereaiter, you vow to do this [ ask of you?” se J do!” “Then farewell, my Lord Gerald of Castle Cor, and a pleasant ride home to you.” “When shall I start?” ** At once.” “T will go to-night; adieu, Sathaness, until we meet again.” “‘ Adieu, my noble Lord Gerald, and luck at- tend thee, that disgrace may not follow.” He made no reply, but leaping into his saddle dashed away at full speed on his return to the house, which, in spite of his desire to disbelieve what Zebel the Witch had told him, he could not but feel he had no right to. Arriving at the castle he sought the earl, re- ceived a letter to King William,* aud ere sun- *Time of story laid about 1690, and running into the 18th century, when William Third was king.— THE AUTHOR. set was going in haste to the nearest seaport to catch a vessel which was to sail that night for London, for the young man was more than anxious, on his own account, to bunt down and kill Hurtel of the Red Hand, as he felt assured that the famous buccaneer was indeed the for- mer master of Castle Crag, and in the event of the Earl of Belmont’s death, did he know the secret of the exchange of the dead and livin infants, could luy just claim to the title an estates of his brother; but Hurtel dead, the Witch should follow, then the old nurse, ay, and last the earl himself, for fear he might repent, or go mad, and make the baleful secret known, en, and then only, would the devilish plotter against human life feel secure, and to accomplish this end, and yet win Lady Grace of Greyburst by fair or foul means, Gerald, ‘supposed Lord of Castle Cor, made to himself another vow. CHAPTER XVII. ’ KENTON CAVANAUGH UNEARTHS A MYSTERY. Ir was with an aching heart, that Kenton Cavanaugh turned away from Castle Cor, where he had had such a brief dream of happiness, and yet, a happiness mingled with deep grief, for he dearly loved his old father, and mourned deep- ly his sad and untimely end. : But there, suddenly before his astonished eyes, and years before he had dreamed of such a thing coming to pass, he had seen himself an honored guest of the Earl of Belmont, and an officer of the Royal Navy, while praises for his courage were heard upon every side. And yet, in the midst of his success, he had met with insult from the brother of the woman he now madly loved. Proud, sensitive and just toward himself, be could net remain under the same roof with Lord Gerald, and consequently he dashed the cup of bliss from his lips, hardly tasted, and turned away to feast on gall and wormwood. Descending the path to the beach, he walked swiftly along toward his old home, determined to seek comfort in the memories of. the past, that the ashes of his childhood’s cabin would recall. Standing in the shadow of a tree, whose branches had been scorched by the flames, he pondered over the past, and said, sadly: “Ah, my poor dead father, what a joyous visit would it have been to me, had you lived to greet me, and say that you were proud of od boy; but you rest in your grave now, and | re- main to one day avenge you, for welll know who it was that murdered you, ay, and you were murdered for me; they sought me, not ,you, and the bloodbounds were set on by Lord Manly of Meredith Castle. ‘* A bright record indeed for a young noble to begin life,” he added, bitterly, and, after a pause, continued: ‘* Alas! am I wretched indeed, for insult has driven me from her nce, but I will yet make men, high and low, feel that I am not a dog to be spit upon, if I have not noble blood in my veins.” or along time he hung around the old fa- miliar spot, and at last, as a sudden idea swept over him he stepped forward, seized a rusty boat-hook, and commenced scraping away the ashes, ; It was an easy task, for the old cabin had not | j a ee ee ee - — been massive in its structure, and he soon had a clear place, just where the hearth had been. Familiar with the old hearthstone, before which he had so often sat on winter nights, lis- tening to the teachings of old Dermot within, and the howling winds and roaring surf with- out, he soon raised a heavy slab, which display- ed a square hole beneath. And in that sepulcher was the gold saved up by the old fisherman from the sales of fish and ame. “- It was all there, untouched, and unsought for, proving more conclusively that robbery had not been the cause of the attack on the cot, for who had believed that there was gold to be found in an humble fisherman’s cabin? And there was more than the gold, for a small, iron-bound box, skillfully inlaid with ivory, was there, and taking it out and placing the money in his belt, Kenton Cavanaugh walked away to the shelter of the trees and sat down to examine the contents of the little box. Several times bad the youth seen his father open it by a concealed spring, and had him tell him that there was a secret held in there that one day he should know. His memory did not fail him about the spring, and the lid of the box flew open, revealing the contents. A pair of iron manacles, filed apart, told a tale of misery and imprisonment, escape, and perhaps death; then came a dagger, lood- stained to the hilt, and this also to story, and was linked in the mind of Kenton Cava- naugh with the iron manacles. A necklace of pearls, a roll of what epneawad to be fine linen, but which unrolled displayed a suit of baby OR, a bundle of papers, and a crucifix of solid gold, comprised the contents of the box. Upon these did Kenton Cavanaugh gaze with strange curiosity, and one by one he raised them, Taking up the manacles first, he read on a bit of paper attached to them: * Filed off at midnight December 25th, 1675.” These were laid back in the box, and the dagger was closely examined, and it, too, had a vxiece of paper attached, and on it, in the same hand as the writing on the manacles, was written: ‘* The dagger that gave me freedom, after ten long years ina dungeon. December 25th, 1675 — one quarter of an hour after midnight.” The crucifix was next examined, and again a scrap of paper told its story: ‘* My companion on the gallows, December Ist, 1665. y companion in prison for ten ears,” Around the roll of linen was a silk scarf, and upon this was pinned, with skill and neatness: ‘‘An escaped prisoner, seeking safety in flight, one night on the Irish coast, ran his boat into a small cove, near a grand old castle, and sought repose. ‘* Awakened suddenly.by a sound near by, he discovered that a storm had swept over sea and land, and that a large vessel was within a short distance of him. ‘‘Glancing from his hiding place, he saw strange scenes, and at last heard cries of anguish and of anger, beard running feet, a shot, a death-cry, and down through the air came a dark object, falling into the water within ten feet of where lay his boat. “The dark object sunk from sight, but a Captain Kyd, the King of the Black Flag. a le aso: et me surgent Chief, of whose strange history I have so often read! A nobleman, pitying the mise- ries of the people, he sought to break off their shackles, and those he would have aided betray- ed him. ““Now I can understand much that was a we kg in my father’s life; and [ do come of noble blood—the noblest in all Ireland was Ken- ton Tudor’s race; and I come well by my haughty pride, which is so condemned in a peas- ant; but was Lord Kenton Tudor, the Trish In surgent, my father? ‘* Ah! there is the mystery, and one I musct solve, for the contents of this box put wild thoughts in my brain. Sy ! the sun is sinking behind the horizon, and I must not forget my promise to Zebel the Witch, for I will meet her, come what may.” CHAPTER XVIII. THE LIGHTNING’S STROKE, HARDLY had the sun sunk behind the distant hills, when there rolled up above the horizon a mage of black clouds, that plainly betokened a rm, But, unheeding the threatening elements Ken- ton Cavanaugh went to the beach, and shoved his little skiff into the sea, the same in which a little over two weeks before he had sailed out to the cruiser in. It had been undisturbed by any one, doubt- less from a superstitious dread of going near the scene of murder by night, and a fear to be seen from Castle Cor by day, rather than from strict honesty: the sail was furled around the mast, as Dermot had left it, the oars lay on the seats, and the tiller lay by them, and it was but the work of a couple of minutes to ship the latter, step the mast, and unfold the lateen can- vas to the breeze. A gentle wind was blowing, and before it the skiff went smoothly along, rounded the head- land on which stood Custle Cor, Kenton me- chanically steering on his way, for he was glancing up at the massive rock structure, as one by one the lamps were lighted and streamed out over the dark waters. Before him, still tinged with the rosy hue of departing day, was the further shore of the bay, with Castle Death rising grim and solitary above the forest back-ground, for no lights were then in the crumbling windows to beckon him on, or to welcome him after he landed. Behind him loomed up the inky storm-clouds, growing blacker as they rolled heavenward, and casting an ink upon the sea. ving Castle Cor astern, he headed for the cave beneath the shelter of Castle Death, and as he sped along the sky grew darker, and it seem- ed, when he looked ahead, that be was sailing into a very abyss of night, so black was shore and castle, But suddenly a vivid glare broke out of the storm-clouds, lighting up momentarily the en- tire bay, curving shores, and castles, and blind- ing the young sailor with its brilliancy: and then, a second after, came a crash of Hesven's artillery, that shook the very waters, and sound- ed as though the armies of Heaven and Heli had met in battle. But the firm hand on the tiller never wavered, the bows of the skiff never swerved, for the in- trepid heart of Kenton Cavanaugh knew no fear, held no dread of danger on sea or land, Again came a vivid flash, and there, on the white object remained on the water, and the | sea tower of Castle Death appeared a strange fugitive drew it toward him, and found it to be a little infant.” That the pearl necklace went with the baby- clothes Kenton did not doubt, and placing them together, he took up the package of bane irst there was a Proclamation to Irish Pa- triots, to rise and cast off the yoke upon them; this was signed by ‘‘ Kenton, the Irish [sur- ‘Ha! my own name; there is some deep, strange mystery lying back of all this,” said the youth, excitedly. Another paper was a reward for the capture of the “Irish Insurgent Chief, Kenton,” and offering the sum of five thousand pounds for him, ‘‘ dead or alive.” Across this was written in the same hand as that upon the scraps of paper: ‘Betrayed and sold by my dearest friend.” A death-warrant, condemning Kenton, the Irish Insurgent Chief, to die on the gallows came next, and upon this was written: “Sentence commuted on the gallows to life im- prisonment; not through mercy, but that I might ive and suffer.” Another, and the last, read as follows: ‘In this quiet nook by the sea, I have found a re- fuge, far from the strife of my fellow-men. ailing in freeing m ple from the shackles they wear, betrayed and sold by my friends, con- demned to die, then to live and suffer, and yet, by my own good right hand, freeing myself f:0m a liv- ing death, here in this retreat let me find rest until the grave shall close over me, and my ashes mingle with the dust out of which I was created.” There was no signature, and yet Kenton Cav- anaugh knew who had penned those lines, and he murmured, sadly: : ‘My father, then, was that famous Irish In; * Whe, _—_—_—_—_—_—_—___ OOO SS. ea OO SC - 'OrOOwe OO ee SO OO form. The quick eye of the sailor caught sight of a strange being, standing fearlessly upon the turrets, with arms outstretched toward the storm, as if wooing its chilling embrace, and with her long white hair streaming on the wind bebind,her, and the scarlet el floating around her shoulders like a mantle of flame. A weird, strange creature she was, defying death, as it were, standing fearlessly upon a stone that might crumble away beneath her feet and hurl her two hundred feet below; gaz- ing with joy upon the rising storm, and glory- ing in the vivid lightning, ul thunder and the howling winds. ‘‘Ha! ha! ha! he comes! he comes!” she shrieked forth, as the flash of lightning showed her the little skiff heading {or the castle steps. ‘‘Ha! ha! ha! he fears not darkness, danger or death,” again she cried, and, in spite of his wonderful nerve Kenton Cavanaugh felt ashiv- er run through his beart; but the idea of turn- ing back never entered his thoughts, though now he felt assured that he had to deal with a madwoman, and one whom the peasant and the noble, too, for in those early days superstition held full sway, believed to bea witch, possessing: weird influence over men and women, know!- edge of the Ppt and future, and holding her power from Satan himself. A few moments more and he would reach the castle steps; but again came a vivid glare, and the heavens Sige rended with fiery arrows, that descended upon the lofty sea tower of Cas- tle Death, shivering its rocks to atoms, and sending them flying over the waters, while the huge structure seemed to sway under the shock, as though the massive foundation would sink into the sea. Momentarily blinded and stunned by the S) GOmMIEDoOo m (eo)