Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 393 — page 9: what you’re looking at

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

“The Canvist ihe Convict Captain. 9 His complexion was darkly bronzed by expo- sure, his features were cast in a perfeco mold, and each one possessed expression in a mar ked degree, while his large, dark-brown eyes, shaded by lashes that a woman would envy, were full entleness, and yet deep within them seemed rs slumber a fire that might break forth danger- ousl sly if kindled with anger or resentment. Who he was, Queen did not know, or what he was doin there, in that light skiff. He had boldly faced big odds to come to her rescue, he had layed great a 8 and en- durance in the fight for triumph, and proven himself a dead shot, and more she did not know. ‘‘ Here is the reef, miss,” he said, hastily glancing over his shoulders, and his words re- called her from her observation of him, which seemed to be a fascination she made no effort to resist, As he spoke, he skillfully feathered his oars, so as not to bury them and strike the rocks, and with just the slightest grating sound the ‘skiff went over the reef. ‘‘The tide is lower than I imagined, for we touched; but now to see what the boat will do,” he es quietly, still continuing his giant stroke, uarter of a minute passed, and then came a wil shout: ‘* Back water, hard!” But too late the order, fora crash followed, and the boat had struck with terrific force, while the seed men were thrown in a heap into the botto A na broke from the lips of the young man, while Queen said earnestly: ‘‘ That ends the chase, sir.” ‘* Yes; but I fear you will lose your yacht, for see, they are leaving their boat to swim to it, but better the yacht than its owner,” he said, with a smile. ‘* Ah, yes, sir, and I owe it to your darin kindness that I go not with the yacht, Queen spoke with a tremor in her voice. ‘*T was hunting on the island, miss, saw your danger, hastened to my boat and rowed out to share it with ou, that is all.” ‘** All! you look lightly upon it, sir, indeed, for Heaven only knows all that you ‘have saved me from; but may I ask your name?” , - My name is Henry Harvey, miss, and my father is an humble farmer, living up the coast.” ‘* Ah,yes, I know his place, and have heard that he ‘had a son in the navy, and you are Lieu- tenant Henry Harvey?” “Yes, Miss Delorme.” - “You know me then?” hairs: “T have heard of the Angel of Cloudland Castle, Miss Delorme, and know that you must be she; but see, they have boarded your yacht, and are putting back for their Jugger. ‘“‘Oh! that I had my father’s smack and a good crew to overhaul them,” said the young officer. ‘“‘ There comes my father’s yacht, just leaving her anchorage; but she is too late, for, see, the lugger is standing down to meet her men, and they will have four miles’ start.” And escape, for darkness is not half an hour away,” and still keeping up his strong stroke, Lieutenaut Harvey headed across the bay to meet the coming yacht, while the lugger, after picking up her crew, set the little craft on fire and headed out to sea under all sail. CHAPTER XIII. THE PRIEST'S SACRIFICE, WueEn Captain Duluth was captured on the outlaw v saat Caspar, the Coast Corsair, he went to prison for life, as, the victim of his cap- tors, they had sworn that he too was guilty. flis judges had been impressed by his earnest and seemingly truthful manner, and they had erred on the side of mercy, as they thought, b sending him to a life-long imprisonment while the chief and his other officers were condemned to death u the gallows. With it in his power, through the kindness of Lieutenant Henry Harvey, who bad captured this schooner, to clear himself of the charge of ilt, some secret mystery kept Bianca Duluth rom writing to England, or even to Count oa m Delorme, to prove his innocence, and that, _as he had sail, his vessel had been taken by the pirates, and he forced to serve as an’ officer to save his life. And hawould not even tell the name of his vessel, nor from whence she hailed, or whither bound, and, as Captain Caspar keptno “ log,” ib was impossible for Lieutenant Harvey to find out aught about the strange man. He was, in spite of himself, interested in pa. 8 tain Duluth, and tried to save him; but to vent him the man he pale gt to save, steppe in between as a barrier, and so he bade him fare- well, and saw the walls of a prison close upon him, with the strange words of Duluth ringing in his ears, that he was doomed to a life-long im- prisonment. ‘* Unless I can make my escape !” As for Captain Caspar, the Corsair, he took his capture most coolly. He had hoisted the black flag, lived under its shadow, and accepted the alternative, of dying for it without an outward murmur. He heard his sentence without a tremor, and 4 ps oat she said, with sur- aS walked back to his cell to await his doom, a ' body is out of danger,” was the impressive cruel smile of triumph upon his thought that if he suffered, Captain others must suffer too. With just ten da ays tolive, Caspar, the Corsair, refused the kind offices of a priest who sought to | see him. ‘‘T am guilty, I have broken the laws of God and man, an if I am punished by the one on earth, let me meet my punishment hereafter,” he said calmly. He was aman of wonderful nerve, and his face showed refinement, and marked character, though it was not a face to love. He wore a long black beard, which made him appear forty years of age, though he was five years younger. He wore the uniform of a naval captain; and it fitted his compact form well. It was said by some that he was an English- man and had been in the Royal Navy, while | others asserted that he was an American mer- chant captain that had taken to preying on commerce, Certain it was that he had selected the Ameri- can coast for his cruising ground, and his name was feared from Maine to Florida. The capture therefore of Caspar, the Corsair, and his fleet schooner was a feather in the cap of the young lieutenant, Henry Harvey. Into his cell therefore Cuptain Caspar went, to wait his trial, vouchsafing no word of his past, to satisfy the curious ing him, and content to die only as he aa tour known, un- der the name of Caspar, the Corsair. ‘Captain, you have said that you cared not to see a priest,” said the jailer, the day before the one appointed for the execution, entering the cell. ‘“*T meant what I said, jailer,” was the retort. “* But, sir,” urged the keeper, who was a pious man, being a good Catholic, ‘‘a number of the clergy have been here to see you, and I have been Sexes to tell them all that you would not see t ‘You did right, my man.” “But, sir, there is a good father without now who begs you to see him, for he says he has words of comfort to give you.” ‘*He can do me no Daten ‘** He can do you no sir.” ‘* That is true.” ‘*He says he wishes to pray for your soul and at least to let you feel that there is one who feels for you in your distress.” “Very well, bid him come in, if but I see him’ to please you, as you kind to me,” “Thank you, sir,” and the keeper, who treated his prisoner with marked respect, hast- ened away. It was not very long before he returned, and o ~ eg the cell he ushered in a priest in his ro **My son, ce be unto you, though griev- ously “hast” thou sinned,” said the priest in a solemn voice, while the keeper impressively an- swered: ‘** Amen!” ‘Great God! Adolph!” said the prisoner, as the keeper left them alone in the cell. “* Yes, Caspar, I am your brother Adolph, y was the low reply of the priest. ‘* And a priest. Is this mockery, or rather a disguise assumed to visit me?” Oh, no, Caspar, I am really a priest.” “ And your—your wife?” and the words were | hardly audible. But the priest heard them and said: ‘* | never married, Adolph.” “What? You did not rare the girl whom I left home, fortune, all, that you should marry? | for, knowing that you loved her, Adolph, I gave | her up to you. ou wish, ave been her?” then with a oo fae ‘**1 told her o your letter, you gave her up to me: but she refused to be- | ‘Duluth lee | rR Niy body will be free from pain within cree § -four hours, Adolph, for I die on the gal- _ lows to-morrow; then you can try the efficiency | oe * No, ear gn he I did not, though I loved her | | and that you said | tation, and awai At last the pirate’s face lighted ‘up, and he of prayer upon my guilty soul,” was the bitter | response of the outlaw. “Pll act first and pray afterward,” was the reply in a significant tone that attracted the attention of the prisoner eta wt ‘* What do your words mean, Adolph?’ “That you must escape.’ “There is no chance for me to do so, or I would not stay here to hang like a dog.” ‘* There is a chance.” ‘** How mean you?” **T came not here unprepared, for I came to save you.” “In the devil’s name, how— Ah! I beg our priestly pardon for my profanity, brother, ut I am not accustomed to such godly com- Pe vou are pardoned, brother, for a man who has reddened his hands with human blood can- not expect to keep his lips unsullied with oaths.” Ki Bien reason well, brother mine, and doubt- reach a good sermon. ou will have a good text for an obituary Saicaitte over the dead body of your pirate brother.” ‘Nay, brother, forgive my words, for the called forth your bitter response; but I feel, Casper, that I was unwittingly the cause of your becoming what you are. “Had Pap: remained at home and married our cousin, Hilda Conrad, you would have led a happy life, and my heart would have ached far less than it has in the past bitter years; but you fled from home, became a wanderer, and oe as you always were, you went to the ‘Now, Caspar, I will not see you die, and I came here to save you.” ‘** But how?’ “* Here is a razor and brush, and you can soon remove that wealth of beard, while my robe. will infold you, for we are of a size, and you can out unrecognized, for we are much alike, as you will see when your beard is shav- en clean.” ‘But you, Adolph?” ‘**T will put on your clothes, and remain.” ‘* And suffer for me?” + oie **T will not have to suffer.” LP ‘Why, man, they would hang you, I verily believe, for aiding the pirate Caspar to escape, = and I’ll not place you in danger.” ok a ‘* No, Caspar, they will harm me not, for ei. forget | am a priest, and all about the ‘elon es are ood Catholics. ¥ ‘ hen you are free, I will cal] the jailer, tell him just what I have done, and that you re, m sects gah My ** And would you di ce our name, which I alone have sullied?”’ pee “Oh, no; for I am known here only as Father Adolpho, a Spanish priest.” “It isa temptation, if I felt that you yer not get into trouble,” said the pirate chief, thou htfully. o not think of me, for I will get out all right, for I will suggest to the prison command- ant that, to you escaped, e take one of your men, a heav- — ily bearded fellow who does not look unlike you, dress him up in your clothes and hang him, for us he, with four others, is to die anyhow, and the execution is to be in the prison plaza. » ‘“‘4 good idea, brother, and one which I be- lieve the commandant will avail himself of, to avoid trouble for himself.” ** Then you will do as 1 desire, and make your — escape?” \ thoughts were busy, and he carefully weighed all the chances for and against in his mind. The priest s for him to come my wife, scorned me, said that you pos- | said firmly: sessed her whole love, and soon after became the wife of a Count Delorme, an adventurer. ‘‘ Caspar, my brother, her act caused me to give up the world, and I went to a monastery | mt ea priest. Corsair had been captured, a strange dread came into my heart that it was my ti whom I had not heard for over fifteen years, and who had made such a sacrifice for me, ing me the woman he loved, because he saw Be | I loved her, and leaving me his share in our father’s fortune.” ‘** And you find that Caspar Conrad, that was your brother, is Caspar the Corsair?” said the pirate with a sneer, ‘‘T do, alas! Isaw you at the cell window, Caspar, my poor brother, and recognized you, and I have tried for days to see you. ‘* At last I prevailed upon the ‘railer to admit me, for I am determined to save you.” ‘** My soul is eternally lost, Adolph, and not Atyth your brotherly prayers can save it,” was e sad _ * Well, ' came here, and seeing that Caspar the while it will be d Heaven grant it may rise upon rother, from | youa free man.’ ‘“‘T hope so, Brother Adolph; but the chances | ; ly 1, Twill pray for your soul when your | ‘**T have decided.” “To go?” “e Yes. 7 * Thank God!” “T will get kt once, for in a very short for see, the sun is setting.” “Yes; and are desperate I take. “ At any rate, if I fail, it will set to-morrow | night upon my grave.’ me Ah, brother! look to the bright side.” “ce I do. ” ** And, Caspar?” ‘* Yes, ‘Adol ph?” * Here is a AR of gold for you.” “Keep it, brother, though [ thank rou; butI have a purse of gol and. besides, hidden away — in my inner pocket, i hi wots a eather uch of rare gems that are worth a fortune ix The pies shuddered while he said: “Bu they are blood-stained, while mine is honest gold. ‘a ‘““Ah, my poor deluded Adolph, all gold is * 4 7 " O | | . ’ * ¥ » -« * Eomicbooks \ revert its becoming known that 3, | ek ag 4 at him in silent medi- a Bin. Be bes 4 ow you tell me that you did not marry The pirate was silent a moment, but hie. s vel >