Beadle's Dime Library No. 230 — page 10: what you’re looking at

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

10 be had never presumed on his relationship to him, except to fight like a tiger for his interests when he was only a clerk in the firm and one of the partners tried to cheat grandpa. But it’s no use thinking of itall now. Perhaps if I had known it all before he went away—but no—I couldn’t have done different. I couldn't marry a man with iis face all full of freckles, , and when he bad red hair and green eyes. I couldn’t. But Mungo was a good, brave fellow, ' and I shall never, never forget my cousin. I must say, though, I don’t, at the bottom of my heart, believe us Captain Hutton did about the way he went of. To be sure the Bible has a good deal of talk about the devil going round like a roaring lion, and grandpa says I shall be burnt up if I don’t believe every word in that blessed . ButTI’ve looked it all over, and I can’t find a word about the devil sailing about in a ship; and it does say that sailors see the works of the Lord. And 1 don’t believe that if the Lord rules the sea, he would let the devil go sailing about, Pp up good young men like Mungo John- ston that never harmed a ~ be But 1 must not go on talking about that, or I shall never do anything useful. Grandpa says there are some things that it is sinful to ask about and that we must believe what we have been taught and trust in the mercy of an In- finite Providence. SoTI'll go on and tell what pened to us all as well as I can, and if I any mistakes in spelling I hope the printers will please remember that 1 couldn’t get a dictionary handy, and spell the word their own way. I won’t say oe about the storm, be- cause I never could understand the ropes of a ship; and the poor Spindrift bad such a quanti- < ropes that nobody could possibly count m. Mr. Denyse tried to teach me the names of parts of the ship; but all I could remember was that they were horrid, and I don’t see why can't use proper aes We women don’t talk about rs and scuppers, and bawsers and cat-heads, and monkeys’ tails, and I do think they ought to pass a law to stop the sort of talk that goes on in ships. All I remember is that it was very horrible, and I was very sick, and that when we got to e I wanted to know if we couldn’t go ck to New York on the train, so we’d never ve to cross the sea again. But of course I 9 knew that was impossible, as soon as they * showed me the map, me a ag nage more rapby since | came here than ever did debe h I’ve never so much as looked at anything but maps and asked ques: tions of Mr. Denyse and grandpa. Poor Mr, Denyse! He had to go away from us soon after we got to Singapore, and he came to bid me good-by. Grandpa was out with Dr. Peters, and Inez had gone to buy me some in the bazar, when the Malay waiter, th his turban and daggers, like all the rest of them, showed the poor fellow in to me. “‘ Sahib see missy,” he said; and I knew from the look in poor Denyse’s face that he was going omer forever. , » pe iy Mo bim asc ab acne . so sorry for my poor cousin; and now help wishing that he would stay a little : I said to him: Why, Mr. Denyse, I thought you had de- us, I’m very glad to see you.” He flushed up, and then got pale again, and gaid in a low, sad tone: **Times are changed, Miss Bruce. A sailor ashore stands on a lower scale of the ladder than a cabin passenger. I have been a fool, and Pve suffered for it; but I'm going to sea ss * Oh, dear me!” said I. “I wonder you can | _ dare to, after the trials we passed through to- gether. I feel as if { should never dare to go on the water again.” | “And yet,” he said, ‘‘I shall always look back to thuse days as the happiest in my life.” “* What days?” I asked him, witbout thinking what he meant, like a little fool as I was. He burst out, all in a minute. The s when [ felt [ was of some use to , | he - Oh, Bruce! I know I’m a fool, but I “a em about the difference between us on that dear old ruft. I hated to leave it; I loved every stick of timber in it, because your foot them. I wisbed we might float about there forever and ever, and I dreaded to see a sail—”? » 1 Tsaw I had got to stop him somehow, so I be- gan to laugh, and be turned red, and gave me a chance to say: “Well, well, you have singular tastes, Mr. Denyse! For my part, I thought it was horrid; for | know I looked likea fright, and [ hadn’t so much as a hairpin left. And then you know what bad water we had.” **] forgot it all,” he answered, looking out of the ow as if he was thinking it over. ‘I ‘only remembered you were there. Ah, well, I mer ve I mig t have known better.” en he was sileut, and looked so sorrowful and handsome—for be was a splendid-looking fellow, with curly brown hair and a perfectly lovely beard cut in that darling English style, _ _ The Flying Dutchman o ee ee ar en gg eee + like the Prince of Wales you know—that I couldn’t help saying: “T shall always remeinber you kindly, Mr. Denyse, and 1 dare say, when the peril is for- otten, I shall think of the good brave men that ought for us weak women so nobly. You and my poor cousin, and the captain, I shall always NAY, ay,” he said quietly. “Th y,a e said quietly. ‘* They were men, wank better. The captain is a sailor of the old school, every inch of him, and he kept us all up like a man. Strange too, that, with all his common sense, be should exbibit such childish superstition about that ship. Your cousin and I couldn’t account for it.” ‘‘ Wor what?’ said I, for I wanted to draw him away from what 1 feared was carne ‘‘ For his fancies about that vessel that foe 0 up your cousin at last,” he said. ‘Surely, Miss Bruce, you don’t believe in ghosts too?” “*T don’t abel what you mean by ghosts,” said I stiffly, ‘‘ but I know it brought us calam- ity every time it came, and I know that I shall never see my poor cousin again alive.” He looked at me in a strange way, and said rather dryly: ; ‘“You mean you think your cousin is dead, Miss Bruce.” I could not help the tears coming into my eyes. Met fear there’s no doubt of it. He said he would be back if it were a real ship; and he never came,” ‘‘ Pardon me,” returned Denyse; “T think vou misunderstood him. He said, if it were an honest ship, he would come back. There areno such things as ghosts, you know. Your cousin was picked up by that ship, and may be on board of her now.” “Then why don’t he come back?’ I asked. ** Ah, it’s no use hoping, Mr. Denyse, We shall a 3 “Pi never see him ag ‘*T don’t see why not,” he answered. admit it looked strange the way be disappeared ; but in these days of science there’s hardly a limit to the optical tricks that may be played on people, and, out in these seas, it is easier than any where else,” ‘Why so?” I asked, for I began to believe him, he looked so quiet and confident. ‘** Because the Sy es in these seas have invent- ed any number of tricks themselves, Miss Bruce! Hindoos, Japs and Chinese are all masters of hocus-pocus, and it would make your bair stand up to see the things they do.” ‘‘ But you are a sailor,” said I, “ and yet you don’t seem to be afraid.” He gave a slight smile and a sigh after it as he said: ‘‘ Yes, Lam a sailor, and I love the sea, too. Sometimes I wish I had chosen another profes- sion; for this only emphasises social distinctions on shore., But I made my bed at thirteen, and 1 must lie on it now. Iam not superstitious, be- cause I have tried to learn all I could about hysical science. But I weary you, Miss Bruce. beg your pardon. I only came to bid you -by.” And he began to look silly again just as I was getting interested in him. If men only knew how easy it is to win women’s hearts, we wouldn't have much chance. It’s lucky they don’t. ‘‘Well, Mr. Denyse,” I said, and I fear my voice shook a little, ‘‘if you must go, good-by. I shall always remember you.” ‘* Will you?” said he, agg 5 ‘“ Ah, well, per- haps you will, for a week. It’s my own fault, Good-by, Miss Bruce. God bless you forever and ever. e may not meet again—” | ‘Oh, yes, we shall,” I said to comfort him, for | he looked awfully handsome and sad. “ Grand- | pa is going to Batavia as soon as we can finda | ship going there, and, who knows, you may be | there, too. And, Mr. Denyse, you say you | think my cousin is alive er. ‘Certainly Ldo,” said he. ‘“Then let me tell you this. for me, and grandpa and I will never cease to be erateful to you.” | He brigbtened up in a moment and squeezed my band so that be burt me, saying: gees ‘Miss Bruce, God bless you. I'll find him, if | he’s alive, and bring him to you. Good-by.” Then he was off, and I had a good cry all to | myself ——_——_— Find my cousin — — CHAPTER II. THE DUTCHMAN’S LEGEND. GRANDPA came back to the hotel with old Dr. | Peters to tell me that we.were going to dine at | the Governor’s palace the next day, and that | our consul had been very kind, in trying to | make us comfortable and get us a safe vessel to go to Batavia, for we’d made up our minds not to try any more sailing vessels in the world, a | Grandpa said that if the poor been a steamer we should never have been canght in.the storm—so the sailors told him. But there were no steamers going ta and the consul said that i might before one arrived, and we might even bave to Se charter one all to ourselves if we insisted on not going in a sailing vessel. a aaa _ He’s not pure blood, you know. thet part of | Spindrift had | you really believed in such—never mind. Don’t ———— —- _—— ! told grandpa that he knew hes‘, bui if we went in another sailing vessel | know 1 should die of fright, for I could never forget that hor- rid ae, that dogged us into the storm, and came back again to gloat over our misery. Dr. Sam Peters was wildto get off anyhow, and Mrs. Pe ers told me that she was afraid he was going in another sailing ship with Mr. De- nyse, a vessel going to Batavia. I noticed that Mrs. Peters didn’t seem at all anxious to have him go, and I must say that, for a married woman, her flirting was perfectly awful. Young girls are expected to make themselves pleasing, buf a married woman ought to be ashamed of herself to carry on the way Mrs. Peters did all through our voyage in the Spindrift. But I flatter myself I put her nose out of joint as soon as I set myself seriously to work to take Dr. Sam from her, and I didn’t half try neither. We all met together that evening at the din- ner-table, and then Dr. Sam bid us good-by, and told us that his vessel would sail that very night at high tide, and that he couldn’t miss the op- portunity. I’m sure I didn’t mind his going, for he was one of those conceited, sneering young men that I bate; but l’d made him bumble enough te me, you may be sure, and it did me good to see how e tart up when he said good-by to me espe- cially. | I wouldn’t even shake hands with him, and laughed at his long face, telling him that when we got to Batavia we should be sure to find him married to some Malay princess, and dressed up with shawls and,daggers like the rest of them. ‘* And you'll forget all about me when you have a wife who wears bangles and blackens her teeth,” said I, when he tried to talk senti- ment. | This happened on the veranda. after dinner, when he got me alone for a few minutes, and he began to look solemn and swear he’d never for- get me to the last day and—you know the sort - M gio men talk when they want to fool girls. So I just shut him up by telling him I knew wae person who would never, never forget “ And who's that?” said he, quite taken off his ‘* Your aunt by marriage,” said with a smile as innocent as I could makeit. “I think she’s the most affectionate aunt 1 ever knew in all my life.” That sto him, and he didn’t say much more, but I heard him muttering what I felt sure were very naugh.y words as to do his pac ae That evening Mr. Gilbert, our consul, came to call on us, to tell grandpa that there was a steam vessel in harbor going to Batavia, but he feared we couldn’t get a passage on her, as her owner used her as a yacht. “And who is the owner?’ asked grandpa. “Pll willingly pay u gude price, Mr. Gilbert— not exorbitant, ye understand, but just a gude rice—to be put on my way to Batavia, sir. e have a branch hoose there, sir, and my puir young kinsman, Mungo Johnston, was going to take charge of it after I’d set things straight there, and now I’m much afraid there'll be trouble in the hoose if I don’t get there quick. Who's the owner?” ‘A Dutch gentleman called Vanderdecken,” said Mr. Gilbert, rather slowly. ‘ He’s a queer sort of customer, Mr. Bruce, and not over civil to strangers, but he’s as rich as—well, sir, you’re not a pauper yourself by any means—” ‘No, no,” interrupted. grandpa, “not a uper, but I’m no sae rich as people think me, Mr. Gilbert. Indeed no, sir. I have to look sharp after the pennies yet for this lassie here— eh, Mamie? And yesay the gentleman’s unco ricb, sir.” | “One of the richest men in the Dutch East 6 went away | Indies, and that means a good deal, Mr. Bruce. ” “Not pure bloed, sir? What dye mean?” _ asked grandpa. ‘~ mean he’s not pure Dutch, though his name’s Dutch enough. Here in Singapore they call him the Flying Dutchman.” Mr. Gilbert said this with a malicious look at me, for be and al) the rest had made great fun of our story of the mysterious spirit ship, but he micht have spared his wit, for grandpa turned white as a sheet, and ge mea “The Flying Dutehman! bh. sirs, and why, why? Don’c joke on a serious subject like this, Maister Gilbert. Consider lm an auld man, sir, and muckle shaken.” , And I went to him to pet him, and I think Mr. Gilbert must have seen how I felt, for he looked penitent, and began, ‘“['m sure I beg your pardon, but I’d no idea he alarmed, it’s ony a name, You know the Dutch set minech store on what little bistory Batavia, | they have got, and of their few legends they ' some time | are as proud as peacocks, The old story of the Flying Dutchman you know of course, Bruce,” “No, I don’t,” said I, shortly, ‘‘and I don’t poo! <€om eS (GE