Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 11 — page 34: what you’re looking at

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

a Se ee —E— — | then return here. —s reported the death of our hero. until it was dark, and then the friar ordered him to tie the bag of dollars to his saddle-bow. two mules, which stood all ready caparisoned, and quitted Palermo, of every who were indemnified for their duplicity and false- men. After their arrival at the palazzo Don Rebiera was_ also intrusted with the secret, but it went no further. some order, and they take me away, and I peep through As now there was no particular hurry for our hero to— jing turned round in our hero’s favor, and made 4 {> have a confessor in and Genvdigns were now as **Den give me the powder.” | ‘* Stay a little,” replied the friar, who went out of the | cell, and, in about five minutes, returned with an answer | to our hero’s letter, and a paper containing a grayish powder. | ‘*Give him this in his soup or anything—spread it on his meat, or mix it up with his sugar if he eats an orange.”’ ‘**T see,”’ replied Mesty. “The dollars shall be yours, I swear it on the holy | cross.” Mesty grinned horribly, took his credentials, and then asked, ‘* When I come again?”’ ‘As soon as you have received the money bring it to | itis given you must let me know, for you must not re- mainin Palmero. I will myself conduct you to a place | of safety.” Mesty then quitted the cell, and was shown out of the monastery. | ‘*By de holy poker, he one damn rascal!’ muttered | ern as he was once in the open air. “But stopa ttle. The Ashantee soon arrived at the barracks, and re- peated the whole of the conference between him and | the Friar Thomaso. ‘*Tt must be poison, of course,’ observed Gascoigne; | **suppose we ytd it upon some animal?” ‘*No, Massa Gascoigne,”’ replied Mesty, ‘‘I try it my- self, by-and-by. Now what we do?” “T must give you the order for the thousand dollars, Mesty,” replied Jack. ‘‘ The rascal here writes to me, that for that sum he will consent not only not to oppose | me, but agrees to assist my cause; but the great ques- tion is, whether he will keep his word with you, Mesty; if not, I shall lose my money. So therefore we must now have another palaver, and argue the point.” The point was argued between Jack and Gascoigne. A thousand dollars was a large sum, but Jack’s father was a philosopher. After many pros and cons, it was at last decided that the eyed should be given to Mes- Wi but Mesty should state, when he took the money to | the friar, that he had administered the powder, and | claim it when he presented it. | The next day the order was given for the money to Mesty, and he went to the Friar Thomaso with it. The frier hastened with Mesty to the monastery, and sent | for the interpreter. | ‘“You have given it?’ inquired the friar. ‘*Yes—not one hour ago—here de order for de money.” ‘*- You must run for the money before he is dead, for | the powder is very rapid.” ‘* And me,” replied Mesty, apparently much alarmed, “ where am I to go?” ‘*As soon as you bring the money here you must go back to the barracks. Remain there till heis dead, and I will have all ready, and take you, as soon as it is dusk, to a monastery of our order in the | mountains, where no one will think of looking for you, till the affair is blown over; and then I will find youa pa e in some vessel out of the island.” esty hastened for the money, and taking it in a large M bag to the monastery, delivered it to the friar’s charge, an then returned tothe barracks to Easy and Gas- zoigne. It was agreed that he should go with the friar, who would probably remain away some time; indeed, | Mesty insisted upon so doing. Mesty stayed two hours | and then returned about dusk to the monastery, and He remained there They mounted In the morning Don Philip, as usual, made his appea. ance, and told our hero that the friar had been sum- sar away by the abbot, and would not return for some | time. ‘*T came to tell you this news,”’ said Don Philip, ‘‘ as then you can re- | cover your lost ground during the confessor's absence.”’ “And I havethe means,”’ replied Jack, showing the | friar’s letter. Don Philip read it with astonishment, but was still more surprised when he heard the whole me | from Jack. He was fora time silent: at last he ‘I am sorry for your poor black.” * Why so?” replied Jack. “You will never see him again, depend upon it. A thousand dollars would sign the death-warrant of a | thousand blacks; but there is another reason—they will ut him out of the way that he may not give evidence. here is the powder?’ **Mesty has it; he would not part with it.” | “He is a shrewd fellow, that black; he may much for the friar,’’ replied Don Fema! “*He means mischief, I’m sure,”’ replied Gascoigne. “Still I feel a great deal of alarm about him,” re- plied Easy; “I wish now that I had not let him go.” ‘* Are you sure that he went?” | ** No, lam not; but the friar told him that he should take him to the mountains as soon as it was dark.” ‘‘And probably he will,” replied Don Philip, “as_ the best place to get rid of him. However, the whole | of this story must be told both to my father and moth- | er; to the former, that he may take the right measures, | and to my mother, that it may open her eyes. Give ' me the copy of the letter you wrote to the friar, and then I shall have it all.”’ The report of the accident which had occurred to Easy and Gascoigne had been spread and fully be- lieved eye eee Palermo, Indeed, as usual, it had been magnified, and asserted that they could not re- cover. To Agnes Ng the case been imparted in confidence by Don Philip, for her distress at the first _ intelligence had been so great that her brother could not conceal it. had made his parents ac- quainted with the villainy of the friar, the midshipmen were transported to the palazzo, much to the surprise boul , and much to the renown of the surgeons, Two days after Don ERIS hood by an amazing extension of their credit as skillful | e t well, he was contented and ha py in the society of | es and her Pi Saped the old lady, after she had been informed of the conduct of Friar Thomaso, hav- e house Pppy as co covered the black face of Mesty. translate what pc say tot understand my English. ing we stop at a house and stay dere till eight o'clock, stew smell ve tink I; but stop a little. I thought it would please you; the sooner you are now | well the better. I mean to propose Pp nel being both re- moved to my father’s palazzo, an road anyhow. I their alarm was about Mesty, for whose return they were most anxious. _ The New York Library. 9 aS BN => SSS -- : - a ee —- —$— —___-—_ — ——— — — a -_——__ ___—___~ | “Dey led me away "bout fifty yards, tie me to tree, To Don Rebiera Jack made known formally his in-| tentions with regard to Agnes. He fully satisfied him — as to his qualifications and his property, and Don Rebi- | era was hero. ully aware of his debt of gratitude to our | But all he required was the consent of Jack’s— father, and until this was obtained he would not con. | sent to the marriage taking place. Jack attempted to argue the point; his father, he said, had married with- out consulting him, and therefore he had a right to marry without consulting his father. But Don Rebiera, not having any acquaintance with the rights of man and equality, did not feel the full force of Jack’s argu- sme at Don Rebiera’s—then give the powder; as soonas | ment, and made it a sine qua non that his parents should write and consent to the alliance before it took place. CHAPTER XXXIV, IN WHICH MESTY SHOULD BE CALLED THROUGHOUT MEPH- ISTOPHELES, FOR IT ABOUNDS IN BLACK CLOAKS, DIS- GUISES, DAGGERS, AND DARK DEEDS, On the fourth evening after the removal of our two | midshipmen to the palazzo of Don Rebiera, as they were sitting in company with Agnes and Don Philip in their own room, a friar made his appearance at the | door. Theyall started, for by his hight they imagined him to be Friar Thomaso, but no one addressed him, The friar shut the door without saying a word, and then lifting up his cowl, which had been drawn over it, dis- Agnes screamed, and all sprung from their seats at this unusual and unex- pected apparition. Mest i in his countenance whic communicate, ‘‘ Where is the friar, Mesty?”’ inquired Easy. ‘Stop a little, massa—suppose we lock the door first, and den I tell all.”’ Taking this precaution, Mesty threw off the friar’s gown, and appeared in his own dress, with the bag of dollars slung round his body, “Now, Massa Easy, I hab a long story to tell—so I t’ink I better begin at the beginning.” “Tt is the most approved method,” replied Jack; “but stop when I hold up my finger, that we may he lady and Don Philip.” “Dat all right, sar. Friar and I get on two mule as soon as it quite dark. He make me carry all t’ousand dollars—and we ride out of town. We go up mountain and mountain, but the moon get up shine and we goon cheek by jowl—he nebber say one word, and I nebber say one word, cause I no speak his lingo, and he no About two o’clock in de morn- mountain, and den we go on again all next day, lilly wine. up a only stop once, eat a bit bread and drink Second night come on, and den we stop again, and peo- le bow very low to him, and woman bring in rabbit or make supper. I go in the kitchen, woman make nice, and she make a face, and throw on table black loaf of bread and garlic and make sign dat for my supper; good enough for black fellow, and dat rabbit stew for friar. Den I say to myself a little; suppose friar hab all de rabbit, 1 t’ink I him a lilly powder,”’ ‘‘The powder, Mesty?”’ exclaimed Jack. ‘What does he say?” inquired Don Philip. Gascoigne translated a cated. The interest of the narrative now became ex- citing. Metsy continued: ‘‘ Well, Massa Easy, den woman she go for dish to put stew in, and I take de powder and drop it in de pot, and den I sit (own again and eat black bread—she say good enough for black man. She ‘tir up de stew once more, and den she pour it out into dish and take it to friar. He lick um chops, by all de powers, and he like um so well he pick all de bones, and wipe up gravy with him bread. You t’ink it very nice, Massa Friar, After he drink a whole bottle of wine, he tell ’em bring mules to de door, and he put him hands on de woman head, and dat de way he pay for him supper. ‘The moon shone bright, and we go up all mountain, always go up, and "bout two hour and *put him hand so, and set down on de rock. He twist, and he turn, and he groan for half an hour, and den he look at me, as much as to say, you black villain, —and he die.” and den they leave me, and dey all drink and make merry, neber offer me anything, so I hab nothing den to eat; I eat de ropes and gnaw them through, and den I stay there two hour until all go asleep, and all quiet; for I say to myself, stop a little. Den when dey all fast asleep, I take out my knife and I crawl ‘long de ground as we do in our country sometime—and den I stop and look ‘bout me; no man watch but two, and dey look out for squarl, not look in board where I was. I crawl ‘oain till I lay down ‘longside that d—n galley-slave Don Silvio. He lie fast asleep with my bag thousand dollars under him head. So I think, ‘you not hab dem long, you rascal.’ I look round—all right, and I drive my knife good aim iuto him heart, and press toder hand on him mouth, but he make no noise; he strug- gle little and look up, and den I throw off de head of de | | ' den I feel him a sows and show him my black face, and he look and he ry to speak; but I stop dat, for down go my knife again, and de d—n galley-slave dead as oye , bei ee Mesty, we must tell this to Don Philip,” said ascoigne. ‘“* Dead! Don Silvio dead: well Mesty, we are eternally en se to you, for there was no safety for my father while he was living. Let him go on.” ‘So when I put de knife through his body, I lie down by him, as if noting had happened, for ten minute, and den I take de bag of dollars ath under him head, and over, and I find him pistols and him ems which I hab here all gold. SolItake them and I ook—all asleep, and I crawl back to de tree. Den I stay to tink a little; deman on watch come up and look at ‘ grinned, and there was that | me, but he t’ink all right and he go away ss goes Lucky said that he had much to | t‘ing, by de power, dat I go back to tree. wait agai and den I craw! and craw! till I clear of all, and den stop | been give | suspicion, as the other friars of the convent knew that that Metsy had communi- | e get off him mule | | you do this? for he not able to speak, and den I pull out | de paper of de powder, and I show him, and make him | the adventures of Mesty, 'sign he swallow it; he look again, and I laugh at him | ti | take to my heel and run for um life, till daylight come and den I so tired I lie down in bush; I stay in bush a day, and den I set off again back here, for I find road ‘and know my way. I not eat den for one one day and one night, and come to house where I put my head in and find woman there. I not able to speak, so I hel myself, and not show_my face. She not like dat an make a bobbery, but I lift up my cloak and show my ‘black face and white teeth, and den she t’ink me de debil. She run out of de house and I help myself very quick, and den set off and come close here yesterda | morning. I hide myself all day and come in at night, and now, Massa Easy, you ‘ab all de whole truth—and you ‘ab your t’ousand dollars—and you ‘ab got rid of de rascal friar and de d—n galley-slave, don Silvio.”’ “Tell them all this, Ned,” said Jack, who, while Gascoigne was so employed, talked with Mesty.” ‘‘T was very much troubled for you, Mesty,” said Jack; “but still I thought you quite as cunning as the friar and so it hes turned out; but the thousand dollars ought to be yours.” ~ . NO, sar,”’ re lied Mesty, “the dollars not mine; but Ihab plenty of gold in Don Silvio’s purse—plenty plenty of gold. Ikeep my property, Massa Easy, an _ you keep yours.”’ *“T am afraid that this affair may be found out, Mesty; the woman will spread the report of having attacked by a black friar, and that will lead to — ——— —E you left with Friar Thomaso.”’ ‘So I t’ink dat, but when a man starve, he quite for- get his thought.” “T don’t blame you; but now I must talk to Don Philip.” Bin: se you no objection, while you talk I eat something from the table then, Massa Easy, for I hun- gry enough to eat de friar, mule and all.” | Hiss my good fellow, and drink as much as you please.”’ The consultation between our two midshipmen and Don Philip was not long; they perceived the imme- diate necessity for the departure of Mesty, and the sus- _picion which would attach to themselves. Don lip and Agnes left them to go to Don Rebiera, and make | Levee acquainted with what had passed, and to ask his advice. | When they went into the the room, Don Rebiera im- mediately accosted his son. ‘* Have you heard, Philip, that friar Thomaso has re- turned at last ?—so the servants tell me.” “The report may be fortunate.’’ replied Don Philip; _“* but I have another wigs tell you.”’ He then sat down and a to Don Rebiera all Jon Rebiera was for some deep thought; at last he replied: t Don Silvio is no more is fortunate, and the e in “* Tha “Oh, Mesty, Mesty,”? exclaimed our hero; “you | negro would be entitled to reward for his destruction— should not have done that—there will mischie from it.”’ ‘* Now he dead, Massa Easy, so much less mischief,”’ | might be proved by the evidence of come | but for the speed that is a bad business. The negro might remain and tell the whole sory and the facts Ip nor Easy, and Gascoigne then interpreted to Don Philip and Agnes, | the letters; but what then? we should raise the whole terrified. ‘Let him go on,” said Don Philip; ‘“‘I am most anx- | be the immediate departure, ious to hear what he did with the body.”’ Mesty, at the request of our hero, proceeded: ‘‘ Den I | Thomaso being thought what I should do, and I said I would hide him, and I t’ink I take his coat for myself—so I pulloff him coat and I pull off his oder clothes—he not wear many | ly. Go to them, P be too | the former of whom looked very grave, and the latter host af the cle against our house, and we have suf- already; the best plan would not only of the negro, but of our two young friends, The supposition of Friar here, and their departure with the negro servant to rejoin their ship, will remove much suspicion and destroy all gg hey must be off immediate- ilip, and point out to t!em the ab- fered too much from them —and I take the body in my arm, and carry him where | solute necessity of this measure, and tell vur young I find a great split in de rock above all road. I throw him in, and den I throw plenty large pieces rock on him till T no see him any more; den I take de two mules and | my daughter, e dollars, and lead the other three | see if a vessel can be chartered for Malta.” get on mine wid four mile, till I come to a aige wood—take off dle and bridle, turn him adri him sad and de saddle and bridle in de bush. All right, now, say; so I put on friar cloak hide my face, get on my mule, and den look where I shall go--#0 oh say, I not be in dis throug ‘nother. I go*bout two mile—moon go down, all Gane, five six men catch hold my bridle, and they all go but I no an- | beach, and, having bid them farewell, embarked with arms, so I do grip ip | speak to me, swer, and neber show my face. ic —n um) fast enough, and they lead me away through ew apa of men lie "bout, some eat and some. drink. ey pull me off arms, just like friar do. They bring me along to one man, and pour out all my dollar before him. He give the cloak, and I say to myself, he dat d—n galley- slave rascal Don Silvio.” ** Don Silvio!’ cried Jack. ‘What does he say of Don Silvio?’ demanded Don vow | Philip. Jeot Mesty's narrative was again translated, and he con- : tinued: ; t. Den I tear up all clothes | this measure, and prepared for their de allin lilly bits, hide one piece here, noder piece dere, | now that Don Rebiera’s resolution | | They find all dollars | Gaaco ne whic bad ' Last we come to large fire in de wood, | of Palermo was to friend that I rigidly adhere to my promise, and as soon as he has his father’s sanction I will bestow upon him In the meantime I will send down and Our hero and Gascoigne fully admitted the wisdom of rture; indeed, been made known to our hero, he cared more for obtaining his father’s consent than he did for remaining to enjoy himself at Palermo; and before noon of the next da all was ready, the vessel had been procured, Jack too wood till I find , his leave of Agnes and her ig aah Neat pap sa arp on by Don Rebiera and Don Philip (for artin was on duty a few miles from Palermo), went down to the and Mesty on board the two-masted latteen been engaged, and before sunset not a steeple seen. * What are you thi of, Jack?’ said Gascoigne, and I hold down my head and fold my | after our hero had been silent half an hour, _ ‘Ihave been thinking, Ned, that we are well ont of ““So do I,” replied Gascoigne; and here the conversa- tion dropped foratime. —_ e, after a pause. that I’ve a good story for the old *ve been thir we Very, ‘teue,” replied Gascoigne; and both were again wileat for same time. : ~ co ‘ IOO com cS (C com