Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 419 — page 9: what you’re looking at

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

ee I ee - r eae eg a ee ee - > Moet . : ticle of information did he gain until he came to the collection of fishermen’s huts known as “ Galilee,” just above Long Branch. A fishing-boat, with four sturdy sons of the brine, had just come to Jand and were occupied in putting their finny spoil into baskets when Biount rode up. ‘*T am insearch of a boat that was blown around Sandy Hook last night during the gale, with a man and woman in it,” he said. ‘‘ Have you heard any- thing ot a boat coming ashore anywhere along here?’ ‘*A small keel-boat with a sailrigged into her?” assed the oldest of the fishermen, a white-headed, gray-bearded veteran, 3) ‘* Yes, painted green without and white within.” “Like that ’ere boat up yonder?” and the fisher- Man pointed to a space betiween two of the houses where a small cr:®t had been hauled up out of the water. It was the identical boat, Blount was sure, but the sail and nearly all of the mast were gone, only a few inches of the latter remaining, the jagged end giv- ing plain preof that it had been snapped by some violent gust of wind. ** Yes, that is the boat, but what became of the people?” . ee: id you say that there was two on board on er?” ** Yes, 2 1.an and woman,” *Wa-al, l don’t know anything "bout the woman, but the pian is all right.” “No young girl with him!" cried Blount, who cared acting for the man, and would not have grieved if he bad been told the scoundrel had perished in the storm. *““Narg gal! I reckon she must have gone under when the boat upset.” at She upset then?” “Yas. I'll tell you how it was; you know thur was considerable of a storm last night?” Blount nodded assent. “And from the way the wind blew, I reckoned we were going to have a pretty big tide, and it kinder wortited me, ’cos I thought the boys hadn't hauled the boats fur enough up on the beach, so ‘bout four o’clock I got up, dressed myself, and went out to see how things looked. The storm was ‘bout over then, but thar was a dreadful heavy swell hammering in; it was pesky dark, but I managed to make out that thar was something a-driving in toward the land through the surf, and arter a time I saw that it was a boat, bottom upwards, and thar seemed to be a man.ciinging to it. wage | Sep the alarm to once, and the boys come tumbling out. We got a boat into the water—and it was risky work, for the breakers were as big as a house—pulled out and diskivered that it was a man, sure enough, and the poor cuss was about gone; he couldn’t have held on much longer; why, he hadn't strength to speak when we got him into the boat. If it a-hadn’t been for us, I tell yer, nothing but his dead body would have ever come on this hyer beach, for the surf would have pounded out what little life remained!” as = you saved him by your timely aid and he is ve be ** Oh, I'll bet yer! up to the house yonder,” and the fisherman pointed to the nearest hut. ‘After we got him inter the house I poured about a pint of whisky down him, which kinder made him brace up, and then we rolled him in blankets, and when we set off on our fishing trip this morning he felt Bg f well, I thank you!’” The blood leaped more quickly within the veins of the young man when he thought that the perpetra- tor of the outrage, which had evidently cost the un- fortunate girl her life, was so near at hand. If she had found a grave beneath the rolling green waters he, the actual cause of her death was still living—sti able to pay the penalty that an outraged law would exact for the crime, **In yonder house?” ** ‘Yes, mister.” “ Rather tall, slender fellow, dark complexion, _ long, black hair, and speaks with a slight accent like a foreigner?” “Waal, no, mister, I reckon you are barking up the wrong tree,” the fisherman replied. ‘ This hyer cuss don’t fill that bill at all. He's a leetle dark in mgt ney _ _— - — ae roe are, a his re oO of long, and he speaks as go United States talk as either you or me,” . it suddenly occurred to Blount that the long poise a the Joy oe Ng cee have meee 2 part of a dis- ssum e unknown for the purpos went his identity. < 3 eatble ties T may Ge Ween eee ee y be wrong in regard to thes - ary cay Da near ‘In course I don’ ow nothing *bout that,’ the fisherman remarked. ‘“Alll ae is what he feller looks like that I hauled out of the sea, *bout as near death as a man could come and yet live to tell of it.” As the veteran made this remark, the conversa- tion of the sailors in the boat regarding the vampire came back to Blount, and he could not help thinking that the ‘‘ vampire,’’ despite his supernatural char- acter, had had a ‘chen d narrow squeeze for his life. “T have probably made a mistake about his per- sonal appearance, but that is natural under the cir- cumstances,’’ Blount said. “ I’ve not the least doubt that it is the manI mean, for that certainly is the boat. Iam a sailor, and not apt to forget a craft that ¥4 eyes have once seen.” “It is rather an odd little ege-shell, anyway; I -Teckon a man must be rather keerless of bis life for to trust himself in sich a boat as that outside of Sandy Hook in a gale like was a-blowing lest night,” the erman remarked. ‘“‘I reckon the best hun- dred-dollar gold piece that was ever shoved out of the mint wouldn't have been any temptation for me be, any sich foolish thi ! The man must have en crazy for to do it, and carry a along w him, too!’ 4 re ad y Crazy !’’ the fisherman struck the key-note when he uttered that word, and the thought occurred to Blount that the stranger, by some wild words or ac- tions, had given occasion for the man to form this opinion. ** Does there seem to be anything the matter with him—does he talk or act strangely?” he asked. **Oh no, he’s all right, although he must have gone through enough to have turned almcst any man’s head inside out; I tell you what it is, stranger. The Bat of the Battery. = ——E it war a thousand to one ag’in’ his gitting safe to the shore last night. Another thirty minutes would have settled his hash! If it hadn't been for the whisky I reckon he would have been a goner, any- how !”’ ‘*T’d like to see him, if you haven't any objection.” | 99 ‘* Not at all! come right along with me! The fisherman led the way and Blount followed, | feeling sure that in afew moments he would solve one mystery at least. CHAPTER XV. AN EXPLANATION, CASSANDRA LAMARDALE was a pretty girl; there wasn’t the least doubt about that, as everybody admitted. She was rather below the medium size, a pronounced brunette, with sparkling black eyes, beautiful hair of the same hue, soft as silk and as lustrous as the plumage of a raven, ° In disposition she was lively and agreeable, a perfect lady in every respect, although rather disposed to be outspoken in her views, or a girl that from early childhood had been brought up to understand that she was the only daughter and, consequently, the sole heir of a man worth millions, she was remarkably free from all pride and ostentation. In fact, at the fashionable boarding school where she had been educated, she was a source of wonder to both teachers and pupils, the ma- jority of whom were rather disposed to bow down and worship the golden calf, for she was as unassuming as the poorest girl in the place, and many a time, when some companions had allowed an envious expression to escape, Cas- candra would reply “Why, girls, I am not any better off than the restof you, as faras I know; eople all say that my pa is dreadful rich, and I snow that we live in a beautiful house and have horses and carriages and such things, but as far as J am concerned, it doesn’t do me much good, I do not dress any better than the rest, and ’m sure that my allowance of pin-money is ridicu- lously small, for l manage to get rid of it iong before the next quarter is due. Some of you imagine, no doubt, that all [ have to do when [ want money is to write to pa and he sends me a blank check, so that I can fill it out with what- ever sum suits my fancy, but I tell you, girls, it isn’. that way at all. My pa only allows me five hundred dollars a year, one hundred of which is paid to me in quarterly installments, and the balance I draw upon to dress myself, Now, girls, four hundred dollars a year isn’t a very large sum for a millionaire’s daughter to spend, Pa makes me a present of a handsome dress once in a while, or a piece of jewelry, but not often, for he says there is no telling what may happen in this uncertain world; and as many a man, fully as good as he is in every re- spect, supports a family upon the sum he allows me, | ought to have wit enough to make it sup- ply my wants. Then, too, he says wealth is a peculiar thing; money takes to itself wings and flies away, you know; I may be a r man’s wife, one of these days, and if I have always been used to taking care of my money, I will know how to get along.” This was the way in which Redmond Lamar- dale had brought up the girl, and the result was she had arrived at the age of twenty-one as natural and as unspoiled by her position as any mechanic’s daughter in the land. Cassandra was sitting by one of the windows in the parlor, looking idly out upon the street, the last new book upon her lap, when the mil- lionaire entered the room. There was a troubled expression upon the face of Lamardale. The miscarriage of his plans in regard to the girl whom he had been at the trouble of bringing across the ocean annoyed him; it was a small matter, apparently, and et the millionaire seemed to e it more to eart than rare, Bee had occurred in years, although there had n many an up and down to the path which Lamardale had followed. ‘‘ Cassandra, I want to have a little serious talk with you,” he said, taking a chair and seat- ing himself opposite to the girl. ‘Yes, sir,” she replied, surprised by the ex- ebmoae upon his face, for it showed that a eavy weight rested upon bis mind. ‘*T will come at once to the point. What do ben think of this young gentleman who has n bom g you so much attention—Mr, Al- mayne?” he ie chia ‘Really, father, to answer you frankly, I must say | don’t exactly know.” “‘ Well, but isn’t it about time you made up your mind? He has been paying you attention for quite a long while.” “Yes, sir, I know it.” “ And can’t xo tell how you feel in regard to the matter ** Oh, yes, sir, I can do that easily enough,” the girl replied, quickly. ‘‘I like him and I don’t like him. eis very agreeable, a perfect gentleman, very entertaining, for he has been almost atest Ac and knows something of al- most everything. Asa pleasant companion he is far superior to any of the other gentlemen | with whom I am acquainted, but when I come to look upon him in the light of a suitor—asa man who is to be my husband, and with whom | I must spend the restgof my days, then a doubt creeps ip. I.do not know exactly any reason — . ever re 9 why I should dcubt—why I should not be happy with him, but 1 have a strange sort of feeling in regard to the matter that I cannot account for on any reasonable grounds. I like him as a friend, and yet some secret instinct seems to tell me that as a husband I should not like him.” ‘Ts there any other gentleman?” Lamardale asked, with a searching glance at the girl’s face. “Oh, no, sir!” Truth itself dwelt in Cassandra’s words, and the old man accepted the statement without question. ‘* Well, [did not know but you had seen some one else who pleased you better.” ‘* No, sir, I like Mr. Almayne as well as any gentleman that I have ever met, in fact, 1 am pretty sure I like him better, that is, I enjoy myself more in his company. Of course, know- ing your views in the matter, I have endeavored to iook upon him as a man who wouid one day be my lord and master, but someway I cannot accustom myself to viewing him in that light. I do not feel toward him asa girl should feel to- Mey the man who is one day to be all in all to er. ‘* That is strange.” **'Yes, it is very odd; but it is possible that I do not rightly understand the nature of the feeling which is called love. All that 1 know about the matter is what I have gained from books, and from the confidence reposed in me by some of my schoolmates. At all events I do not feel toward Mr. Almayne, or anybody else either, as the heroines of the novels feel toward their lovers, or as my girl friends feel toward the gentlemen to whom they are en- gaged. Itis possible that [ am an odd fish— everybody at school used to say I was—and that [am not capable of experiencing this pas- sion, which is called love. It is certain that I never have yet.” ‘*T do not think that you are in any impor- tant particular different from the rest of your sex,” the old gentleman observed. ‘‘ When the time comes for ycu to love, you will most cer- tainly feel the passion, although it is possible that with your strange notions you may never experience the passionate love which is tke stock m trade of the novelist. If you like the gentleman well enouch to marry him, the love may come afterward.” ‘* Yes; that is what all my lady friends say when they attempt to joke me about Mr, Al- mayne. When] tell them that I really do not love him, they ali laugh, as if they. did not be- lieve me, and exclaim, ‘Oh, but you will, dear, after you are marricd.’” ‘Cassandra, I do not want to attempt to influence you in this matter at all,” Mr, La- mardale remarked, *‘ because I think every girl ought to be free to choose for herself, but as far as I know, the gentleman would make you a good husband. He comes of a fine fam- lly, isa man of means, a pleasant fellow per- sonally, and I think he is attracted to you sole- ly by your own gifts and not from the fact that you are my daughter, and he expects you will inherit my property when I depart from this life.” ‘*Oh, Ido not think he is a fortune-hunter, father; he certainly docs not appear like one.” ‘** And if he is one and weds you, Cassandra, under the idea that you will inherit my money, ; he will be sadly disappointed.” The girl looked surprised. ‘“*The time has come, Cassandra, when a se- cret that concerns you wgrye dhe ap be revealed. I have always acted like a kind and indulgent parent to you?” 9 Always, dear father!” and she knelt by his side. ‘“* And yet Iam not your father.” ** Not my father?’ ‘“‘ No, my dear child, nor any relation. Your father and mother died when you were a baby. Heaven never saw fit to bless myself and wife — with a child; chance threw you in our way and we adopted and reared you as our own; and that is something that neither myself nor wife gretted, for you have always been a duti- ful, loving child; and now for the reason why you will not be my heiress, The greater part of the money that stands in my name is a not mine. [am but a trustee for another. own fortune, although a goodly sum, does not entitle me to the name of millionaire, I shall leave you comfortably well off, but the man who marries you, expecting to get a million or more, will be sadly disappointed. I thoughtif you seriously reflected upon wedding Mr. Al- mayne [ had better see him and explain how matters stand. The rightful owner of the money will donbtless soon claim it, and if any untoward accident should interfere to prevent the party from coming forward, I should feel bound to turn the money over to some deserv- ing charities, for I could not conscientiously re- tain it.” ‘* Perhaps it would be as well for you to speak to Mr. Almayne, and then if he persists in his suit it will be proof that he is attracted by myself alone.” “Very well, I will set about the matter at. once,” and the old gentleman departed, leaving the girl full of wonder. (E = tee! Fink > . Ss = 1 i > “> 2, < “>