Beadle's Dime Library No. 230 — page 22: what you’re looking at

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

_ OO _————e +2 +e + - ~— oe owe - — fainted dead away under the second blood-let- ting and lay back in the chair, unable to move. I brought bim to at last with sume very strong spirits of ammonia, and he stared round stu- ten and began to talk English as well as I ould. ‘* Where—what’s the matter?” he said. Then his eyes fell on my face, and in one mo- ment it flashed over me who he was, and what a blind idiot I had been. Mr. Hassim was Mungo Johnston, with his face stuined yellow, his hair dyed black, and dressed up in the Malay toggery. For one instant I felt a spasm of jealous re- vulsion, and then I’m glad tosay I put out my hand and said: “ You’ve saved her life twice. God bless you. Pll keep your secret, for I believe you have a reason now.” His eyes met mine, and he clasped my hand weakly, but said nothing. Theu bis glance turned on the bed where lay sleeping the woman we both loved, sleeping peacefully. A spasm of intense pain crossed his face, and he took up one of her little hands and kissed it softly with a choking sob, su pee instantly. That done, he rose out of his ciair, rather unsteadily, and held out his hand to me for the second time with a gesture there was no mis- taking. It wasa pesture of farewell. “What,” said I, “are you going away? Surely, man, not yet. You've lost ten ounces of blood in two days, and you're not fit to resist malaria,” He shook his head, and pointed out seaward, as if to indicate where he was going. “But you'll be back soon, won’t you?” asked I. ** Surely he won’t keep you a slave forever.” Again he shook his. head mournfully, and se in Malay, which he knew I understood a ttle: ‘Perhaps never. Good-by.” He went back to the bed as if to take a last rook, and bent down once more to kiss Mamie Bruoe’s band. On my word, I felt at that mo- ment that he was a better man than I, and was sorry from the bottom of my soul for him. I think be must have seen this in my face, for he shook hands once more, and looked asif he was bidding me a cordial farewell. And then he left the room and I heard him going down the corridor alone. Isaw that my patient was comfortable and _ I went out after him but he was gone, I ran down-stairs to the front steps just in time to see him and Vanderdecken mountin fresh sorses. Evidently they were going back again and I knew that Johnston was in no fit condition to ride far and fast. I ran to the steps and shouted: ‘*Mr,. Vanderdecken, one moment.” pnd turned in his saddle with his impassive C8, part, Wee oi what is it? I am ina burry, sir.” “That man’s not fit to gallop sevén miles ~~ mow,” I said. ‘* He has just tainted from loss ne blood.” | Vanderdecken turned and looked critically at i the falss Hassim, who was trying to sit up b straight in his saddle and swaying Bea weak- mess, His brows contracted in a slight, peevish frown and then he called out to his grooms in ay: ‘Tie him in his saddle. I am late.” | vy ran out with the slavish obedience of the true Oriental, and fastened the poor fellow in bis saddle by a girdle round bis waist attached to the mel and cantel of the concern, till it was clear he could not fall off. _ Then Vanderdecken turned to me, saying: | “Now, doctor, farewell. I have dona all you -. asked. I have also left the sum of twenty thou- . sand rupees to your credit at Vant Cott’s bank, to be paid you on Mr. Bruce’s order when his gra dchild is recovered. You will not see me = pte ‘some time, possibly never. At the end of three years I absolve you from your promise _ of secrecy. On condition that you give me --s- your word of honor as a man to keep it till ‘then, T will relieve you of Dundoo, Are you sa - ad : “Tam,” said I coldly. ‘“I have no further Poi . need to ask questions. I know who it is sits in the saddle by you.” : ry eyes glowed as he asked: ta “Has he told youf” “No. I have had my eyes opaned, that’s ‘Then see that you keep your lips shu‘, or it will be worse for all concerned, od-day.” ' And with that the two horses dashed away at » same reck'ass speed at which they had come, and I saw that Johnston was only kept. from falling by the cords that tied him in the saddle. I confess, as they disappeared in the distance, I could not help a gloomy presentiment that I , Should never see one at least of them again. I _ felt more gloemy than I did when poor Jobn- ston left us in the raft to go off te that cursed hocus pocus ship that had dogged us in the Spin- t in such a queer wa had nev begin to believe most devoutly in evil spirits believed. in phantoms, but I did getting into men’s frames, for certainly this Vanderdecken, with all his smooth ways, was a perfectly pitiless demon of cruelty when he wanted to be, and I had no longer any doubt that the Flying Dutchman, as Captain Hutton called it, was his yacht, got up in some hocus- pocus fashion to deceive people and practice on their superstition. But if so, what was his object? How did he disguise his ship? What did he want with Mungo Johnston? What was the necessity with him of keeping so many secrets, and be- ing ready to sacrifice any number of lives to keep them from the world? rankly, I cannot answer these questions any better to-day, after the lapse of three years, than I could that day when I[ saw this mysteri- ous man disappear, Who and what he was, how he came to be laying the ree Dutchman in the Indian cean, are things that some one else may find out. f probab! y never shall. They remain to me an unsolvable mystery. Well, I have not much more to say, seein that I have only been asked to write what know about the Flying Dutchman, and I’ve told at. Still, as a matter of professional pride, I must give an outline of what followed with regard to the girl I had snatched twice from death with Johnston's b i ae From the day of that second transfusion of enyse can have his Agnes. blood Mamie Bruce continued to improve more rapidly than I had any reason to e t, and in a week she was able to talk freely and ration- ally. Then I learned from her lips much of what had transpired on the Phantom, and found the poor girl settled in the belief that her cousin’s spirit had visited her to announce the coming of the fever that had so nearly carried her off. I didn’t attempt to reason with her on the sub- ject, for I saw that it would only agitate her, aud my lips were still sealed by my promise to Vanderdecken, Moreover, { will confess that, in my selfish- ness, I was not sorry she should think her cousin aead: for it was clear that, in spite of his plain face, the manner of his behavior bad impressed her nation very strongly, and that she had ideal him into a hero to be adored. And when I remembered how his blood was really in ber veins, and thought of the many subt oe apa influences that we cannot ex- plain proceed therefrom, I knew that I should have no chance if she once knew what he had done for her. ' But I had no chance anyhow. I saw that as soon as she got well. She didn’t laugh at me and despise me as she used to do, but to her I was now only her doctor and very good friend —nothing more, Meantime my practice continued to p r in Batavia, and I was pret | money fast enough to set up quite an establis into society. Dutch beiresses were thrown at my head half-breeds included, with great liberality, and The Flying Dutchman of 1880. ee ee ee ee ment and go | —e eee ee ~~ ee ee | But the fellow fairly lifted me off my feet by ** Your uncle’s widow, Mrs. Peters.” | “My uncle’s widow?’ I gasped. ‘* What, is | he dead?’ “Yes; didn’t you know it? He died overa year agoon the way toSan Francisco. I had the command of the ship, and I never felt so sorry for any one in my life asI did for that poor young widow, all alone.” ‘*So you comforted her,” I said, sarcas- tically. ‘* That's right, Denyse. Widows need comfort, and they’re apt to get it when they have money.” . ‘* Money?” he echoed. ‘‘ Why that’s the worst of it. Don’t you know?” “Know what?” ‘* That she only has ber dower right, and that | She old man died intestate. Why, I never | dreamed of this, Sam. I thought you knew. | Agnes has written letter after let to tell you. : ‘*Perhaps she bas,” said I, dryly, “but I never got them.” The fact was, I knew my respected aunt by marriage too well to fancy she’d write to me, when it was a question of a few more years’ en- joyment of income. I guess she trusted to luck | to have me die of fever. ) All I know is that I took passage in Denyse’s for home, selling my practice for a song. I'm going to have my share of the cash. Amen. Sam’. F, Peters, M. D. —— —— — 0 -—— PART IV. THE WIDOW’S STORY. CHAPTER I. THE TROUBLES OF A LONE WOMAN. I HAVE been asked to write down what J think about the Flying Dutchman of 1880, The poor doctor used to chuckle when I talked of it as a ‘spirit ship,” and tell me there were no such things. But then the poor, dear man was, after all, only a blind materialist, and could not penetrate the mysteries to which J have had the privilege of access, thanks to the wonderful powers of that most gifted of mediums, Mr. Booster. And I know the doctor has changed his opinions since he has crossed to the other side. I have conversed with him quite frequently through Mr. Booster, and have receieon more than one spirit message in his own hand, writ- ten in the dark with a piece of slate pencil half an inch long. Therefore J fully believe the Flying Dutch- man of 1880 to be the materialized spirit of some unhappy ship, and tliat one of our party, un- known to us all, was a very powerful medium. The identity of that person can hardly be doubted. The spirit ship never a red save | when Mr. Mungo Johnston was us, and it | vanished and never came back after his disap- ee Ce one bouncer, with the euphonious name of Bar- pea bara Van Boem, was assigned by the verdict of Batavia gossip as certain to be Mrs. Sam Peters in six months. She never was and never will be. I got tired of Batavia the day old Bruce took his grand- daughter away with him to continue the trip round the world they had started to make in the Spindrift, and I made up my mind to grub | money and nothing else till I got enough to go back to Yankeeland. ? * Yes, she went, and [own my heart went with pong so that [ was pretty grumpy for some time after. I guess I had been two years in Batavia, liv- ing pretty close, when I saw 100 Denyse one day, ng well and hearty, and he told me he had | a ship of his own now, a steamer too, and was going back home from Yokahama, by San Fran- cisco, to get married. “To whom?” asked I, scowling at him, for I knew how sweet he had been on Mamie. He laughed quite comfortably, and told me: “Why, you ought to know used to think you were sweet on her yourself.” “Whom do you mean, Bruce?” He colored up quite deeply, and replied, hastily: ‘No, no; my God, man, no; that’s different. She’s an angel from heaven now. No man would dare to think of talking marriage to her.” | “Why, where have you seen her?’ I asked, hastily. os In New York city, whence I came this voy- age, | ** And was she well and happy, Denyse?” “Well? Yes. Happy? I don’t know. I think we were both mistaken, Peters, and she feet loved her dead cousin. She broods on him all the time.” : *“* Dead cousin? How do you know he’s dead?” ‘‘Oh, he must be by this time, or he would have come back, Peters. But you don’t ask whom I'm to marry.” ell, whe is it!’ I asked, not caring much who. | her well, for I | Denyse; Mamie rance, | Therefore I bave never bad the slightest doubt on the subject since my acquaintance with Mr. | Booster. | I confess, at the time of the a nce, I was | frightened—being then in the slavish bonds of materialism—not to say superstitious. But now _—now I have no fears, no doubts. I belong to the select few who have the priv- ilege of knowing, and therefore have no hesita- tion in pronouncing the Flying Dutchman a _materialized spirit pepcuces by Mr, Johnston, or rather produced by the spirits through the ‘aid of Mr. Johnston, using the spiritual parti- cles of his frame to produce the appearance, I remember well his peculiar mediumistic eyes, and his impassive calmness in the most trying physical dangers. , . have no doubt that he was conscious of bis own powers and used them for his purposes, as many wor ae gee mediums do, I should not have wondered to hear of him going about the country some day ‘‘exposing spiritualism,” as they call it, by the aid of his own natural gifts, | mene aa they are merely the result of tricks. | I have known this done by these unprincipled mediums, Unprincipled I fear he must have been, or he ' could never have been attracted by that selfish little lump of affectation Mary Bruce, with her doll’s face and pretended baby manners, when I knew she must have been twenty-two if she was a day at the time she said she was sixteen. But men generally are more or less of fools; though, if a woman of culture gets a fair chance | to show them the superior attractiveness of gesthetic and spiritual natures, with no doll babies to draw them aside to frivolities, why— well I won’t say any more. Of course I shall always revere the memory of the poor, dear doctor; but it’s very hard for a woman to live alone, especially since the undutiful, not to sa ee conduct of my Jate husband | nephew, Safhuel, who head received so much ‘purely disinterested kindness frum me, *~ | But I might heve expected it. Samuel once _ — > e- - —— — —+ a a (E() CEO Hayicel sXeve) <S : | ~w@ » i -