Beadle's Dime Library No. 316 — page 13: what you’re looking at

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

* I Se the moon rises, in my carriage. The road is smooth and the ride will be short. Your boats ean follow,” They expressed their acknowledgments of the count’s courtesy, which they accepted; while the carriage was getting ready, they in- dulged in general conversation. In the mean while Theodore bad passed out upon the veranda and, hearing the voices of men in the garden, be descended into it and slowly passed along the avenues, where he came upon a group of sailors that were awaiting their captain, and beguiling their time with eating oranges which they had plucked from the trees or picked up ripe from the ground. Thev stood aside with that respect- ful deference seamen show to those they sup- pose their superiors, and Theodore, speaking with the frankness of a true sailor, a cheerful ‘‘Good-evening, my lads,” walked on and took his way thoughtfully toward the river. ‘‘T say, Bill, that was a‘ bob,’” said one of the tars. ‘‘Yes, he is no fresh-water fish,” answered another of the men. ‘‘ His voice and the way he spoke to us rung of the quarter-deck.” ‘* Tf he’d been a shore long-tog,” remarked the first sailor, ‘‘he would have passed us with his sky-sails set and never condescended to give us a salute,” “Or,” said a third, plucking a ripe orange from the branch above bis head, “if be bad spoken, it would not have been ‘ my lads,’ but a gruff ‘ good-even’’ or ‘ good-even’ gentlemen,’ a appellation no quarter-deck bob would ever think o’ insulten’ an old tar with.” ‘‘You are right, Ned,” answered the first speaker, in a very positive tone. ‘‘ But let us beave ahead out o’ this and anchor uader tne lee o' that green piazzy, and wait for our bobs or we'll be overhauled for cruisin’ without leave.” And the tars, who were eight in num- ber, having filled their jacket pockets with ripe fruits, steered toward the house to wait for the officers, standing at the foot of the steps leading to the verauda, Theodore kept on bis way, buried in thought. The sight of those officers had greatly agitated him. They were Englishmen—they were bis countrymen! perhaps they bad seen or known those who were bis parents. He felt drawn toward them by kindly interest—and even the sailors, because they were English, be felt love for. ‘‘Oh,” thought be as he walked slowly on, ‘Oh that I had no tie of gratitude to bind me to the count and countess. Howsoon would I place myself on the deck of this vessel. How soon would my feet tread the shores of my native England!” Suffering his thoughts to flow in this current he felt a restiess, increasing desire to unite his destiny with the brig. As he walked on he ap- proached the river-side and in the shadow ofa tree, be saw a boat with two men in it, one at the stern and the other at the bows. The moon was just advancing above the horizon and he was able to distinguish it as a man-of-war’s boat. He approacbed and addressed the men with friendly interest, for he felt they were his countrymen, They were also seamen, and he regarded a sailor as a friend. ‘‘What brig is that?’ he asked, standing on the bank and glancing toward the vessel which was just visible far down the shore, the first beams of moonlight glittering upon the white line of its furled royals. ‘* His majesty’s brig, the Sleuth Hound, sir,” answered the coxswain in the stern, raising his hand respectfully to his hat as he spoke. Theodore started with emotion. He remem- bered the name associated with painful reminis- cences, With that very brig six years before, near the Isle of Pines, tae Gertrude had fought a battle and beaten her off. He gazed upon the vessel a few moments with singular interest, His feelings were both sad and painful. With the past he bad associations both pleasing and depressing. His recollections of Lafitte and of his goodness to him, were ever of the most ten- der and generous kind; but they bad of late been mingled with the reflection that bis bene- factor was “‘a pirate,” and that he bimself bad been for years a companion of pirates. His notions and ileas of what is due to society and its laws, bad been gy by education and experience, and be had learned to see in the true light the character and professicn of his benefactor, over whose crimes and errors his grateful attachment bad cast a vail when he was with him. His remembrance of L.fitte, therefore, grew each day more painful and the more distressing, for while be condemned his character, the gratitude of his heart was not diminished. And while he reflected upon what he owed to him, be mourned that the object of his gratitude was one whose name he should fear and be ashamed to mention in the presence of honorable men. He strove to forget the past while his generosity would not suffer him to forget bim to whom be owed life and protec- tion. At the same moment his cheek would be tinged with the glow of affectionate remem- branees and the deepest shame. After gazing a long time in silence upon the indistinct vessel, which each moment, es the moon ascended, was coming more and more into the full light of its beams, Le said sadly: oO OO OO -.-Ch rr e LLL OC Lafitte’s Lieutenant. ** No—neither that brig—nor any other vessel of my own country can bear my footsteps witb- out infamy. I see, in its true features, ny past life! If it was known by General McDunald— by Captain Stewart—that I had once been a pirate and was the intimate companion of La- fitte, had been in the very Vessel that had fought the Sleuth Hound, would the latter officer suffer me to go on board of his vessel to commence a career of honor? No! but, thank God, they know it not, The secret is safe in my own bosom and in that of my dear friends, To be discovered would be ruin and gat The world judges not with justice. It weighs not circumstances and never advances pallia- tions. It would not ask for causes, it would look only to facts. And these would condemn me! YetIlam not guilty. The past, such as is was, wags forced upon me, It was either death in mid-ocean or a life of piraey. <A pirate was my pursuer and be became my benefactor, Thanks to the over-watcbing Providence that conducted me through all the scenes of crime in which my youth was passed without taint— without bloodshed!” He remained a few mo- ments gloomy and troubled, and then again fixing his eyes on the brig-of-war he said to the coxswain: “How long, my lad, have you sailed in the brig?” ‘* Three years, sir,” said the man rising and touching his tarpaulin. te How long has Captain Stewart commanded er? ‘*He is only a passenger in her, sir, he and the long-tog general. Captain Stewart’s frigate is laying off the Balize. The brig is now com- Taneied he Captain Lennox, sir.” ‘‘The same that has had command of her for the Jast six years?” ‘‘ Yes, sir; for seven—ever since she was built.” ‘* Strange that I should again be thrown into the way of this vessel. Il remember seeing Cap- tain Lennox on board his brig in the action— for we lay some time within balf pistol-shot; and possibly he saw and may recognize me. I almost fear to encounter him. With my present feelings—.ny elevated pride of character—lI should rather die than be recognized as having been associated with the fiercest band of outlaws that ever swept the seas. But if such be my Comers so be it.” While be was thus bitterly reflecting, the man in the boat spoke to the other to direct his at- tention to a lugger that was drifting down in the middle of the stream witb her foresail set to steady ber. There was nothing in the man’s words to prniewe surprise, but his voice sounded harsh and was remarkably deep-toned; a voice such as one never forgets for its very disagree- ableness. At hearing it, Theodore utterad an exclamation of surprise. He gazed intently upon the man’s face, and recognizsd him as an Maglio buceaneer who had sailed with Lafitte, and remarkable for his sass: BC sanguinary cruelty. The blood mounted to the veins of bis forehead, and then rushed back to bis heart like lightning. **Yes, I feel that my fate is yet to reconnect me with the past,” he said within bimself, with anguish. ‘* Tbis is the man who is called ‘ Red Knife’ for his bloody hand, and now he appears to bring to my mind the consciousness of my former degradation. He does not recognize me. For this | cannot be too thankful. Perhaps the change five years has produced in my person may forever be my protection. I will return to tke house, lest I may be still discovered and ad- dressed by the ruffian as ‘ Lafitte’s Middy,’ as I was designated, I could curse the event that led to my preservation, if constant fear of infamy is now to be my lot,” On bis return to the house he found the count’s berouche at the door, and met a servant who said that he bad been sent in search of him, Tbe count and the offieers at the same moment made their appearance at the door, ** Ah, Theodore,” said the count, ‘'we have been waiting for you, Thecountess feared you had been tempted from your penchant for the sea to visit the brig. Come, join me and these gentlemen in the carriage. The boat will pull along the shore.” ‘*| have just sent the sergeant with orders to the coxswain,” said Captain Stewart, ‘With your permission, sir, 1 will go up in the boat,” said Theodore, who felt too gloomy to have to endure society where he should ba called upon to converse. ‘* As you please, young gentleman,” answered the captein. getting into the barouche after General McDonald. The moon was now shining full and bright and the carriage rolled across the lawn toward the levee road, while Theodore retraced his steps to the boat, The men were already on board, with their oarsin tbe air, and the cox- swain was just about to give the order to let fall when he appeared, ‘* Hold on,” be cried, and springing from the bank into the stern-sheets, be gave the com- mand to ‘‘ give way ” ina tone that at once let the men see that they bad to do with a sailor. As the boat moved slowly up against the cur- rent in the shadow of the bank, Theodore threw 13 himself back in the stern-sheets and gave him- self up to the reflections his situation created. The last time be had been in a man-of-war’s boat was when the dead body of Lafitte was borne ashore, in the cutter of the Sultan, to be buried outside the walls of Havana. As the boat moved on her way he seemed again carried back to his buccaneering days, and the sight of the face of *‘ Red Knife,” who pulled the bow oar, clearly visible in the moonlight, for a mo- ment seemed to realize the past. Drawing bis cloak closer about bis features, he then began to wonder at the appearance of this man as one of the brig’s crew; but then recollecting that most of Lafitte’s men had shipped in the navy and merchant service, a few only pursuing their former piratical career, his surprise ceased. Still be could not help thinking that the man’s pres- ence then was anges with evil to bimself. The boat pulled steadily — within a few feet of the river-bank, and after ha)f an hour’s rowing, Theodore gave an order to the coxswain to steer toward a )ittle inlet above which grew a live oak tree. Here he landed, and as he did so he thought the pirate gave him a fixed look. It might have been bis fears. On ascending the levee he saw the carriage standing not far dis- tant. He pursued bis way up a lane bordered with Indian trees, and soon came in sight of the group beneath the sycamore, As be approach- ed, General McDonald, with his head uncovered, and the moonlight streaming like silver down upon his head, was kneeling pte the grave, his face covered, and his whole manner ex- pressive of deep emotion. Captain Stewart and the count also stood hy with their beads bare, and Theodore imitated their act of respect both for the dead and the grief of the brother of the deceased nobleman. Ina few moments General McDonald rose, and turning to the sergeant of marines, said: “Was he buried in bis uniform, Parkley?” ** He was, sir,” answered the man, raising the back of his hand to the visor of bis cap, “It was his lordsbip’s wish.” ‘‘ As we did not expect to take up the body to-night we have not brought the means, and will bave to defer it, general,” said Captain Stewart; ‘‘ at least until we can send on board.” “TI have Peer for the omission, gentle- men,” said the count, looking in the direction of a gang of slaves who at that moment made their appear with shovels and picks. ln a little while the grave of the noble soldier was laid open by the slaves, and the coffin raised to the surface of the ground by the seamen whom Captain Stewart sent for the boat, Every man came to the grave by bis permission in- cluding the coxswain. A barrow was then con- structed of their oars which they had brougkt with them and the coffin taken up on the sboul- ders of six of the seamen and slowly borne to- ward the boat. It was hp ieee General McDonald, with his head uncovered, and fol- lowed by Count D Oyley and Captain Stewart, and the train of slaves. It was a singular cession to see, passing along in the still shadows of the lane, the moonlight falling at intervals through the trees upon the coffin and upon the stately figere of the British general, and upon the others who accompanied it. Theodore wes not of it. As he tursed from the grave to fol- low tbe count, a band was laid ati bis arm! He looked around and beheld the Englisb pirate, who had lingered behind. Theodore’s first im- ulse was to betray ignorance of bis person. e, therefore, spoke to him es calmly as he could; for the consciousness of being known to that man, almost burst his noble and bravo heart, which, ambitious for honor and distinc- tion, was so degraded by the “past” hanging like a chain upon bis soul. “What weuld you, my lad?” “You don’t know me?” said the man impu- dently, ‘*How should I know you?” said Theodore with difficulty repressing his desire to strike the man down, ‘“‘Tt may be policy to forget an old comrade, master Theodore! Iam ‘Ked Knife.'” ‘* What would you bave with me?” demanded Theodore, no longer avoiding a recognition; and spenking in a stern tone, “Don’t be quite so lofty, master,” said the man with increasing atdacity and with a menacing tone, “I beard from some of our old comrades in Havana that you had dropped an- chor in this quarter, and so shipped in the En- glish brig on purpose tu come and pay you a visit for the memory of old days.” ** And do you say your visit in the brig was on purpose to see me?’ demanded Theodore with surprise and pain. ‘*'Yes. And I expected a better reception from an old friend. I knew you when you came to the boat and spoke to the coxswain, tall and fine-looking as you’ve got to be; but secing you didn’t suspect an old fellow-crafts- man was nigb, I spoke to let you bear my voice, to see if you would recognize that, And by the start you gave lsaw you did. I then saw by the way you tacked and stood off that you didn’t mean I should know you again. But I had not come from Havana and risked my life on board a brig I bad once fought against to Jet you give me the go-by, Sol resolved to watch Eomicbooks —_