Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 1068) (1898 01 11)
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Entered as Second Class Matter at the New York, N. Y., Post Office. No. 1068. Five Cents a Copy. $2.50 a Year. BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 92 Witi1aM Street, New Yor. Copyrighted 1897, by BEADLE AND ADAMS, Published Every Tuesday. The Cruise oj the Sea Woll; ()R, ‘THE Boy DUELIST. CHAPTER I. ALONE WITH DEATH. Out from the shadows of the land glided a small sloop- rigged craft, with all sail set, and headed for the open sea, Forward, pacing with a quick, nervous step, every in- stant turning in his short walk, like a tiger in his cage, was a tall man, attired in sailor garb. In the small space astern, his hand resting on the tiller that held the little vessel on its course, sat another man, his eyes alternately ranging from the open sea to the tall form forward. Like the other, he was also attired as a seaman, and these two were all that were visible upon the little sloop. Suddenly the man forward hesitated, seized the lee-stay with an iron grasp, and mut- tered; ‘* He shall do as I wish. We have gone too far to hesitate now, and gold I must have. He shall go with me—or—or— yes, I'll hurl him into the sea and go alone. Brentford!"’ and he walked aft to where the helmsman sat at the tiller. “Ay, ay, shipmate; what is sil “111 tell you what it is, Brentford—you must put back to the land and at once," said the other, firmly. ‘Look here, boatswain, you do not wish a quarrel with me, do you? ’”’ “No, if you do as I ask you. I tell you, Brentford, two leagues yonder is the home of a man I hate; he has gold in plenty, and we can get it} if you only have the backbone to do as I say.”’ ‘Took here, boatswain, I have this very night gone with you upon an expedition that will hang us both if we are caught; trusting you, and feeling sorry that because you had been a little fast, the old man had cut you off with a shilling, I went with you to take that which I be- lieved justly your own. bd DESPERATE MEN, UPON HER DECK WENT ON A MAD STRUGGLE BETWEEN TWO e2e BY QOL PRENTISS [NGRAHAM. “Well, here we are, heading seaward in an open boat, fugitives from justice, and a bag of gold and som» silver our only booty; and if we strike the coast anywhere within a hundred miles, we will be taken, and you know the result.’’ ‘*Why throw words away, Brentford? I know all this, and I urge, now that we have gotten ourselves into a scrape, to risk more. Land where I ask you and we can get several thousands more in gold.’’ “No, boatswain, I want no more blood money, I am going out to sea until I drop the land and then head down the coast.”’ **T tell you, Brentford, you must go,’’ and the man came close to his cgmpanion, Then commenced a_ fierce struggle between the two. Over and over the small deck they rolled, one cursing, the other breathing hard, and each striving for mastery, each seeking to take the other’s life. At length the struggle grew flercer, and then one was raised in the arms of the other and hurled into the sea, With a shudder he went to the helm, and once again the little sloop was put on her course seaward—once again a hand rested upon her helm; he same hand that had rest- ed there before the struggle. Brentford had proved the vic~ tor. But he whom he had hurled into the sea was not, as the victor had believed, dead. He had been powerless to resist being hurled from the deck, and sunk far down into the dark waters. But at length he made an effort to rise; the cool waters revived him, and he came to the surface, but far from the little sloop—too far for him to swim in his weakened con~ dition. Realizinig that he -had, but one chance wor life, to gain stréngth and noticing that the
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2 sloop stili lay in the wind, as though his victor held no power over her, he turned upon his back, inflated his chest with wind, and began to float. For many minutes he thus floated, while his strength and nerve came back to him, and he deter- mined to once more seek the vessel, and, if his victor was powerless to prevent, slay him: if he had also recovered his strength, he oma come to terms with him, and thus bide his time until he could put him out of the way. But, as he glanced over the waters he heheld, to his horror, the little sloop fully a quarter of a mile away, and dashing swiftly lore under full sail. “Sloop ahoy! ahoy!’’ he yelled in thrilling tones. Brentford! oh, Brentford! do not leave me here to ie! , Still the sloop held on her course and the rising wind blew his words back in his throat. “Ahoy the sloop! Brentford, good Brentford, come back for me!” Yet no answer—no sign that his cry was heard, or, if heard, was heeded. “Oh, God! must I die here—alone on the waters— alone here with death? It is horrible. “Brentford, ahoy! Oh! curses, he cannot hear e, “Ay, he hears me, but heeds me not—he leaves me here to die. How cruel is man to his fellow-man! Curse him, if I live I will—but I cannot live; I must o down here to my death: it is two leagues to the fand—T cannot even see the cliffs. “Oh, God! what an end—what a death to die!” and covering his face with his hands, as if to shut out his cruel fate, the poor wretch sunk down be- neath the dark waters, CHAPTER T. BOAT AHOY! Nor until the water above his head oppressed him with its weight, did the man make a struggle to rise to the surface, and then he arose once more upon the waves, clinging to life with that tenacity of pur- pose natural to all, even when there is no hope of Buccess. A bold, strong swimmer, he struck out over the waters, heading landward, though there was little hope in his heart of ever reaching the shore: still, - ong as he had strength he would fight against death. For half-an-hour he had been swimming on, his strokes still strong, “ weakening every minute, for he was yet unnerved from his struggle with his com- nion; but before him he could see no trace of the and, and he cried in agony: “What if the wind should have changed and I be pe inning: from the shore: but I will swim on; I will not die. ‘Curse those clouds that obscure the stars from me. If I could only see the stars I would know ex- actly where lay the land.” And on he swam, his strokes becoming less steady, his body numbed by the length of time he had been in the water. “Oh, God! I believe I am dying,’’ and he cast 4 hurried glance around him. Instantly from his lips broke a wild cry of joy, for not far away was visible a small sail. ‘Ha, ha, ha, I will not die then. It is Brentford returned for me; he would not let me die alone on the sea. Good, noble Brentford! he has come to save me.” Then raising his voice he hailed loudly: ‘ “Ahoy! I am here, Brentford—here, two points off your starboard bow.” But no answer came from the boat, which still held on its course. ** Ahoy! ahoy the sloop!” ne gue in wild tones, and yet no answer was returned. “God in Heaven! has he returned to trifle with me? Has he come back to sail around me while I sink down to my death?”’ Still on its course held the sloop. | Ho! Ho, the sloop! do not leave me here to die,”’ rung out in thrilling tones, Instantly the little craft swept up into the wind and lay Lg while a boyish voice cried: ‘Who hails, and where-away?”’ “Ay, ay! Here in the water—a cable’s length off ‘ your starboard quarter.” “All right, I will bear down for you,’’ answered the same boyish voice, and the little sloop was again under way and headed for the drowning man. “ Where-away? ane oe or I may run you down!” called out the young boatman. “Here! steady as you are-now, and for God’s sake hasten; I am most gone,’’ came in piteous tones. As the boat drew near the poor wretch the youth put his helm down, and then Jeaning far over the gunwale, seized the outstretched hands of the man. ‘Here! Now pull yourself aboard,” he cried. But no answer came: the moment his hand had oa that of a fellow-being, the drowning man : ome unconscious—the strain upon his nerves and strength had been terrible. Realizing that he had fainted, his preserver r eager him into the boat, and luffing up into the wind set to work to restore him to consciousness, But all his efforts vere vain: the man still re- mained insensible, breathing heavily, and the boat was again put on her course straight for the land. Thus an hour passed, and at length the little sloop ran into a small cove, under the shadow of a hill-side, and was skillfully laid alongside a small pier, which a jutted out some thirty feet into the water. his boat fast, the youth sprung upon the pict, and ran rapidly up the hillside to a handsome : ttle cottage that faced the open sea, and looked ; down — the little cove or harbor. “a ’ Aloud knock at the door quickly brought an an- swer, in the shape of a large man, in slippers, over- alls and pea-jacket. ! - & wealthy shipowner, ‘the past thronged quickly before him, for, since the eS ~~, BSA ag Kin Spe Tig RE te ce ee Beadle’s Half-Dime Librarv. 7 ‘*What! is it you, Enoch?” “Yes, father; I got my load early, and deter- mined to run back to-night, and not await for day- light; but, quick, sir, and aid me to the house with a poor fellow I picked up at sea; I fear he is dying.” “If you have saved his life it is hacky you did re- turn to-night, Enoch. Here, wife, get a bed and hot drinks for a poor fellow that Enoch has brought with him; we are now going downto the boat to bring him up,” and Captain Martin Blanchard fol- lowed his son rapidly down td the boat. The man still lay as the youth had left him, breath- | ing heavily, and wholly unconscious. “Poor fellow; he must indeed have had a hard time. I will carry him, Enoch; he is too heavy for you,” and so-saying, Captain Blanchard raised the form in his strong arms and slowly trudged up the hill with him, the youth remaining behind to lower his sails, and leave all ship-shape on board his little boat, for it looked as though a storm was rising. When Captain Blanchard arrived at the cottage, he found his wife had not been idle, for a bright fire was blazing on the hearth, and a cot was spread in front of it, while the table stood near with a glass and bottle, the latter marked “ Cognac.”’ At the doorway two persons met him with anxious faces, and in wrappers hurriedly thrown on—one a lady of ray eee or seven, and with a face yet show- ing traces of great beauty in her earlier years! the other was a maiden of seventeen, and eee like Vo mother, only her form was less rounded and ull. “He is not dead, Ihope, Martin,’’ said the matron, anxiously, as she beheld the limp form in her hus- band’s arms. ‘*No, wife, but he is ina bad way, I fear; we will soon see what we can do for him,’’ and he laid the form down upon the cot, and the lamp-light stream- ed full in his face. It was the face of a man of forty-three or four—a face bronzed by long exposure to the winds and waves, and with stronly-marked features, but withal a handsome face, though the eyes were now sunken ar closed, and upon the mouth rested a look of suf ering. Captain Blanchard, his wife and daughter, all | glanced into the dark face, and Mrs. Blanchard | started back, witha cry of surprise. ‘* What is it, Bessie?’ “Martin, have you forgotten so soon? It is Oliver Eustace!” “AsI’m a sinner you are right, Bessie. His life saved by your son and mine! Well, we will do alli | we can for him, poor fellow, for his lot in life has not | had the joy in it that mine has, wife. Lulu, send old Aunt Dinah here to help us,” and Captain Blanchard turned to his Rangnver, who immediately left the room on her errand. A few moments after she returned, accompanied by an old negress; and, saying that she would go and help her brother, Lulu 'lefé the cottage. quarter of an hour after, the brother and sister entered the cottage to find that the stranger had been restored to consciousness, and haying been dressed in dry clothing and given a warm drink, had dro off into a restless sleep. “Now tell us about it, Enoch,” said his father, as the youth threw himself upon a sofa. He was about fifteen years of age, though he ap- pease older, for his face and form were well ma- ured, and his whole bearing was that of a hand- some, fearless, and determined boy. Having thrown aside a heavy pea-jacket he wore, he was attired in a sailor suit of blue shirt and white duck pants, and removing the tarpaulin from his head, a mass of brown curls were revealed. pe Well, father, there is little I have to tell,’’ began the youth. ‘I got my stores abroad before sunset, and determined to come home to-night, as I feared bad weather to-morrow,”’ “Tt was risky, my son, and you all alone.”’ “No, sir; I knew my bearings well, and had no trouble. When two | es from shore, I was run- ning along smoothly under a five-knot breeze, when I thought I heard a voice hailing me, and, narrowly seare’ the waters, I endeavored to discover from whence if came; but I could see no sail, and-not even a boat, and held on, believing I was mistaken, until suddenly there could be no mistake; the voice hailed me from the water, and I found the poor fellow yon- der almost drow —in fact, he fainted ere I got him into the boat. Now you know as much as I do about him, sir,” ‘And more too, Enoch, for the man whom you saved is one you have often heard your mother and myself speak of—Oliver Eustace.” ‘What! Mother's old beau?’’ said the youth, mis- chigvonay. “Yes; he was a great admirer of your mother eighteen or nineteen years . He was the son of a mate on one of his father’s vessels; but your mother preferred me to him, for he was a wild young fellow, and I won her, while Oli- ver Eustace went from bad to worse, drank deeply, and, at last, left his home, his father disowning him; and when he died, a year ago, he left his wealth to a nephew, cutting his son off with a shilling. “For years we have not heard of Oliver, and to- night he comes to us from the sea, saved by our son. There are strange things happen in life, Enoch; but you and Lulu seek rest, for your mother and myse will watch with the patient;’’ and Captain Blanchard stepped forward, and gazed Fr eae 3 into the dark stern face of ns old-time rival, while memories of night of his marriage, Oliver Eustace and himself had never PROKR one word to each other; the rich man’s son had never forgiven the r mate for winning from him the woman he loved more than all else in the world. Sr A OS ; CHAPTER II. BURYING THE HATCHET, For days did the man called Oliver Eustace re- main in a stupor—his i sealed, his blood burning, and death threatening him. But at length one day he opened his dark eyes in full copgeiousness, and they rested upon Lulu Blanch- ard, wh, with a piece of embroidery in her hands, was seated near as nurse, her mother being worm. out with watching the patient, and her father and brother having sailed up to town in the little sloop. At first Oliver Eustace believed he was dead, and that his eyes rested upon an angel; but an instant’s reflection convinced him that if dead, after the life he had led, angels would not be likely to be in his vicinity, and he gazed more earnestly, and saw that it was a maiden of rare beauty, with dark blue eyes, golden hair and ruby lips, from which broke ever and anon snatches of some pretty ballad, sung in a voice that was rich and musical. Oliver Eustace waited until the song ended,and then said, softly: “Where am I?” Lulu Blanchard started; it was the first time the invalid had spoken the tivree weeks he had been in the cottage, and she had believed him unconscious. Rising, she quickly advanced toward him, and said, gle ; ‘You are with friends, I am glad you are bet- er.”’ “Yes, Iam better, but how came I here?” : “My brother picked you up at sea and brought you ere,” * How long ago?” “Three weeks to-night; but you must not talk, or sete et worse again. I'll give you a soothing raught.”’ ** Hold; you say I must not talk or I will get worse; have I not talked in my delirium?” eagerly asked the man, ‘“No, you have never spoken; now, don't spoil all by talking.” “Answer me one question and I will keep quiet; where am I?”’ ‘* With friends.” ‘Their name.”’ * Blanchard.” “Ha! Martin Blanchard?’ “ Yes.”’ ‘He is no friend of mine, girl. your mother does, too.”’ ‘“You are mistaken; for both my father and mo- ther cared most kindly for you. They will be your senda, Mr. Eustace, if you will allow them t He hates me, an@ ** How know you my name?” ‘“My parents recognized you as an old friend.” The man was silent for a few moments, and thep he said half aloud and in anger: “ And I owe my life to her son?” “Tt was my brother Enoch that found you.” ‘One question more—who lives at my old home two leagues down the coast?” “Since your father’s death his heir has never been there: the place is in the hands of the servants only,” answered Lulu, quietly. The heir! Well, I suppose he had a right to dis- own me, for I have been a little wild,” he said aloud, and then muttered to himself: “In the devil’s name, who were those we fired upon, I wonder?” After a still longer silence than before, he asked: “Is there any news along the coast, miss? You see, I have been away for years.” “You will find many changes have taken place, I pe Mr. Eustace; but, indeed, you must keep quiet.”’ oo the smugglers as bad here as in former ears?” : Lulu believed his mind wanderiag, but answered: ft. No; of late they have not been troublesome, un- “Until what, girl?” eagerly asked the man. “The other ht they landed and attacked your old home, robbing it of some gold and the silves late your father left in his safe, and shooting down wo of the servants.”’ ‘* Were they killed?" **No, they escaped to sea in their boat.”’ “T mean those that were shot down.” “One was killed at once, and the other died soon oa ee he tried to tell who had shot him, but could not.”’ “Thank God! I will sleep now. I feel tired,” and the invalid turned over upon his side and was soon in deep slumber. When he awoke again it was evening, and the chair in which Lulu had been seated held another occu- pant—Mrs. Blanchard. As she saw the invalid’s eyes unclose she walked toward him. : **T am glad to see that you are better.” ‘Bessie! Mrs. Blanchard, do you speak thus kind- ly to me?” “Yes, I have ever felt ay toward you, Oliver, though I regretted that you led the life you dia.” *T lost you, Bessie, and Icared not what became of me. I was desperate then.” “You should hgve been a man and not yielded to such vices, simply because a woman rded you; but that is past, so let it ever remain, and from now let your career be a different one, and in both my hus- band and myself you will find warm friends.” The man was silent for full five minutes; a little gle seemed going on within him, and the woman watched him narrowly. _ At length he said, slowiy: ‘* Yes, my life has been wrecked; but I ine ae get off shore again, ind all may come well. Your son saved my life, Bessie?” i ee — 7 OEY Sa ee
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“And his father has nursed you as he woukla brother; so let the dead past rest.” “T will, Where is your boy and your—husband?” “T am here to answer for myself,”’ said a deep, room, having heard the last question of the invalid, “Bustace, old fellow, give me your hand, glad to see you on a level keel once more, and in a short while we will have you all ship-shape.”’ The invalid grasped the outstretched hand, while a shudder passed over his frame, but he said quick- ] y* y: "Captain Blanchard, I owe much to you. I am nothing but a pal vagabond, for my father left me penniless, and I can never prove my appreciation of all that you and yours have done for me.” **Nonsense, man. Twenty-five amar ago, I sailed with your father as my captain. I was a cabin-boy then, and he aided me to climb up to the quarter- deck; and I now own a beautiful schooner—a pret- | tier craft doesn’t float—and I built her with the mon- ey I saved up while in your father’s service. “In two weeks I start on a trading cruise South and to the Indies, and I want a first-mate, and you just come in the nick of time to get the berth. “Come, don’t say no, for Bessie and myself have talked it all over, and the place is yours. But why in the name of Neptune were you cruising about alone in the sea that night when my boy, Enoch, found you?” A slight flush stole over the pale face, but he an- swered promptly: — “T took passage in a coaster from New York to Portland, and I was leaning over the taffrail, lost my baiance, and fell into the sea. I called loudly for thelp, but the sleepy skipper at the helm did not hear me, and I was left to drown. How long I was in the water I cannot tell; but Iam a good swimmer, and struggled for life; but when I saw your son’s boai and hailed him, I felt that it was my last effort. He saved my life.” ae And it was lucky for you that he returned home that night.” ae Yes,”’ ** Well, you have nothing else to do, and can accept my offer?” It is very kind of you to make it. Yes, I piney, it, for [learned in New York of my father’s death, and that I was disinherited.”’ ‘*He cut you off close, that’s a fact; but the world is yet PEROT Se VOU, SiN, as first-mate of me schoon- er, you ou, y a snug sum by for old age.” When o you sail, Captain Blanchard?” “‘This day two weeks.’ **T will go with you;” and a strange look crossed the face of Oliver Eustace as he uttered the words— ‘a look that would have put Martin Blanchard on his guard if he had read far back in the eyes the hate and bitterness resting there. CHAPTER IV. 4 SECRET EXPEDITION. Ir had always been the desire of Captain Blan- chard to see his own vessel anchored in the little cove, sheltered by the hill upon which stood his handsome cottage, and as soon as the last rope was dn place and all on board ship-shape, with a crew of hhalf-a-dozen men he hoisted anchor, and ran down toward his home, determined to give his wife and ehildren an able surprise, As the ene ene Be ed wo fo Bont ager foots appeared off its quarter ac 8 y like n and rig, though a third smaller. There was the same long, lean hull, tall raki masts, long, needle-like bowsprits, sharp bows, an narrow stern, ! Both vessels were under fore-mainsail and jib, and _as they dashed swiftly along held their own without any variance. - That craft sails as well as we do;” and Captain Blanchard turned his glass upon the strange schoon- er, which was running along abreast of him, and about a mile distant. “He is armed, too—carries four guns, to a broad- side and bow and stern pivot chasers; it is a vessel of war and a beauty,” continued the’ admiring sea- man, keeping his gaze riveted upon the stranger. The course ye which the two vessels were sailing was directly down the coast; but the merchant schooner was gradually em seaward, to avoida sunken rock, and this would bring the two ther at a given point, so that it became a matter of inter- est to see depot ohne shoot across the line in ad- wance of the other. “« Crowd on more sail; Judson set the topsails and foremast-staysail. We must shoot out ahead of that ‘young bull-dog,”’ said Captain Blanchard, delighted ‘at a chance to try his speed with a schooner of war. The extra canvas was at once set on the schooner, sand, as if by magic, the strange craft followed suit, so that, as before the two vessels held their own, while each moment brought them nearer together. “ By Jove, we can’t make it, and it will never do to crowd one of Uncle Sam’s sea-dogs. I'll hold on un- ot within a cable’s length, and then run parallel with im,” said Captain Blanchard. Nearer and nearer the two vessels drew toward a ‘given point, until they were within a cable’s length and yet each held on its course—a course that wou bring them in collision if they kept it five minutes longer. et neither showed any desire to yield the way, ntil, seeing that another moment would bring his einen the quarter of the stranger, Captain Blan- chard, who had secretly hoped to make the other ave the order to the helmsman to ring her up a few points, Snigntiy the ponsoner of war shot on ahead, an I am | The Boy Duelist, “You have a swift vessel there, sir. cruise to you.” Captain Blanchard saluted politely, dipped his | flag, and turning to Mr. Judson, his second-mate, hearty voice, and Martin Blanchard entered the | said: ‘That is a nice fellow, 'll warrant—none of your navy snobs, but a gentleman and an officer. Head _ in, Judson; yonder lies the cove we are making or.”’ To the surprise of Captain Blanchard the stranger also headed in shore, and when the schooner ran into the little basin near the cottage, its rival in speed sped swiftly by and disappeared around a curve in the coast a league below. When the schooner of war rounded the rocky | int that jutted out from the coast, the officer who 1ad addressed Captain Blanchard, ordered the helmsman to head directly in shore. ‘*T have not been here since I was a boy, sir; but I think I remember the channel,” he said to an elderly officer standing near, and who had just come on deck. ‘*T leave all to you, Meredith; this is your expedi- tion, you know,” returned the officer addressed, and who was the schooner's commander. “ Thank you, pio ree De Lancy, and I will try and have all come out well,’’ replied Wayne Meredith, who was a dashing young lieutenant, scarcely over twenty-two years of age. “There, sir, you see the residence of my uncle Eustace,”’ and Lieutenant Meredith inted to a grand-looking mansion, now visible amid a grove of stately trees, and with grounds sloping down to the edge of the little harbor in its front. Your residence, you mean, Meredith,’”’ said the commander, smiling. “True, sir, I have not yet begun to realize my good fortune. Now you see the place well throug that avenue in the park.” **Itis a lordly home, Meredith, and I congratulate ou. I suppose, now, you will leave the service and ome a landsman,’ “NotI, sir. Steady, asyou are, helmsman! Now port a little, There, we are in the basin, and I will come to anchor. “Tf we go ashore, Captain De Lancy, I think it will jull any suspicion as to our coming here.” **As you please,” answered the captain, and ten minutes after the schooner lay quietl at anchor, and a cutter was rowing shoreward with several of- ficers and half a dozen oarsmen. Leading the way to the mansion, Wayne Meredith looked up the old servant then in charge, and who, since the murder and robbery several weeks before, had been living in constant dread of his own life, and with his wife had fortified himself in the kitchen in a manner to withstand a siege. mga J the young heir, whom he had known as a boy, the butler welcomed him warmly, and, aid- ed by his wife, at once set about preparations to make the visitors comfortable. After a hearty dinner, washed down with old wines from the cell Wayne Meredith said: “ Captain De cy, I will now leave you here to enjoy yourself as best you can, while Lieutenant Bartle t had better return on board the schooner and hold _ himself in readiness with two boats’ crews, for it will be dark in half an hour, and an hour after Mr. Bartlett should move.” * Yes, and you will have a de for me and my land force?’ asked Captain De Lancy. ‘Yes, sir; I will come myself, if possible; but if not, I will send the one of whom I spoke, and he can tell you where to make the attack.” “You are running a great risk, Meredith, if your informant has deceived you.” “T believe him truo, sir; but if you hear nothing of me by daylight, then you had better advance with our force, and the map 1 gave you will lead you to € spot. ‘Now I must leave you;” and the young officer entered the mansion, leaving his commander smoking upon the balcony. Half an hour after, and just as darkness settled upon the land and sea, a man, in the coarse garb of a common sea issued from a side-door of the mansion, and hastily glided into the shadows of the park on the sea-side of the house. At a rapid h familiar with the pace, and as tho surroundings, he sped along until he came out into a highway; but crossing this, he walked on over meadow and hill, until the roar of the ocean was dis- tinctly heard ahead of him. Ascending a steep and rocky hill he found himself upon a bold promontory or cliff that overhung the sea, more than a hundred feet below. Upon the summit of the cliff a single old tree, tat- tered and torn by many storms, was standing, and reaching up to a broken limb, the seaman ound what appeared to bea peered This he pulled thrice and then let go, and awaited in silent expectation. ““Who comes?’ suddenly came from a rocky cov- ert, in a deep voice. “ Priend!’’ answered the seaman. ‘* What friend?” asked the deep voice. “One who has a strong arm and ready knife.” ** Come forward.” The seaman advanced, and, at the edge of the cliff, found a steep path leading, as it were, down into the huge rock. d Just here stood two rough-look the bright starlight, and they new-comer. ‘We do not know your face,” said one, suspicious- ly. < No; but you know the face of him that sent me, I come from Dirk Douglass.” “You are welcome; come to the cavern.” Leading the way down the steep path, afte: a walk of several minutes, the men, who were ia ad- men, as seen b earnestly at the A pleasant | 3 vance, halted upon the narrow edge or shelf on the very face of the cliff; but a shrill whistle caused what seemed to be, the wall of rock to open, but which was, in reality, a canvas covering that con- cealed the mouth of a largé cavern. Within this were two score of men, laughing, drinking, and Playing cards, while around them were boxes and bales of goods, baskets of wines, barrels of liquor, and many piles of clothing, cloths, and silks thrown promiscuously together in a cor- ner. All eyed the stranger as he entered, and one of his conductors said: “A friend of Dirk Douglass,” ** Well, my man, what news sends Dirk?” asked a tall man, with heavy beard and eagle eyes, turning his gaze upon the stranger, who appeared to be a young seaman, good-looking, and with a resolute ace, “He says the schooner came down to-day, and to- night is your only chance to take her. There are not half-a-dozen men on board.” “So we saw from the cliff. And said he nothing of another vessel?” asked the man who appeared to be the chief, “Yes; a schooner-of-war came down the coast, too. It is now anchored in the basin opposite the old Eustace mansion. It brought down tite heir to the estate.”’ ‘How know you this, my man?”’ “Tam one of the schooner’s crew. I just came from the mansion,” ‘““Ha! Dirk should be careful when he gets one of Uncle Sam's sea-dogs to aid us,” ‘*He was careful; he knows me well, and he urges that you seize the schooner to-night, and put at once tosea. In a few days you can return for the bal- ance of your men and plunder.” “You are right; I will take Dirk’s advice, for this place can not remain concealed much longer, and we must g° to our new retreat on the Maine coast. Boys, all but a dozen of you go with me to-night; the rest will stay and pack up our plunder, for I will re turn in a few nights for you. Now get ready, lad¢ after we have a glass allround in honor of our n friend here, who, by the way, has not given us name.”’ “My name is Wayne,” ae responded tk young seaman, and in spite of his humble af ire, and having shaved off his mustache, th reader cannot fail to recognize in him the handsome oung lieutenant of the schooner of war, and the heir to the Eustace estate, CHAPTER V. THD FLIGHT BY NIGHT, So delighted was Enoch Blanchard with the new schooner, that he volunteered to hold the deck while the crew went on shore to enjoy a supper which his mother, with the aid of Lulu and old Dinah had pre- pared for them. Full of the importance of his situation, he paced e departure of Mate Judson and his the deck, after men, and all kinds of ambitious dreams floated | through his brain, and he longed to be the com- mander of just such a beautiful vessel,and skim the seas in search of the cruel buccaneers that infested the southern waters. So b in fact was Enoch with his “ air castles,” that he failed to observe two boats pulling with muf- ed oars upon the schooner; nor did he know of their presence until a number of dark forms scaled the bulwarks and confronted the astonished youth, who, lost in reveries of pirates, at first believed he saw before him a score of those d te men, But Enoch was utterly fearless, and alone though he was, he gave one loud pte help, and knocked down the first man that laid hand upon him. But he was unarmed, and throwing themselves upon him, the strangers at once bound and gagged him, while his cry for aid remained unan- swered, As soon as the youth was secured, one of the boarders, who seemed to be the leader, walked to the side of the schooner and said in a low tone: ““We have the craft; pull in shore and conceal your boats.”’ “ Ay, ay, sir,’ came the answer, and the two boats that Yad brought the boarders, and now with but one man in each, moved slowly and noiselessly spice until they disappeared in the shadow of the ; Hardly had they been lost to sight when two more large boats were visible coming swiftly yet noise- lessly into the little cove. They also pulled with muffled oars and were crowded with men. Heading for the schooner they boarded upon either side, and the one who appeared the leader, cried cheerfully: : “Deserted, as I'ma sinner. Ah, the lights ashore prove where the crew have gone—making merry over some of old Blanchard's wine.” , Then turning to his men, he continued in subdued ones: “Up with that anchor, lads, and ina hurry. Now for the sails. There, she catches the breeze,” and lying well over to the six-knot breeze, the beautiful vessel stood out of the harbor, just as Captain Blan- chard and his crew came out of the cottage. One glance into the cove, and he saw that the schooner was gone. One glance seaward, and a mile away he beheld her flying over the waters, “In heaven’s name what does this mean?’ he cried, aghast at what he beheld. None could answer him, and with one accord they all ran down to the Fal i em which stood two men and in alarm for och, rs. Blanchard, Lulu and old Dinah followed. Well, sirs, what can you tell me about the flight
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4 of yonder vessel,” cried Captain Blanchard, angrily confronting the two men. “ Are you Captain Blanchard, sir?’ asked one of the men, saluting politely. “Tam, sir, and yonder schooner is mine from keel to truck.” ** No harm will befall her, sir, my commander bid me tell you. while you will see her put back into the cove, Hark! | do you not hear firing on board?” As the seaman spoke, there came distinctly to the ears of the listeners on shore the rapid discharge of fire-arms, the clash of steel against’ steel, and the | ;wild shouts of combatants, while the flashes of the pistols illumined the deck and showed a fierce combat ng. > iy son, my poor boy! He is there amid all that danger. What can it mean?” cried Mrs. Blanchard, in great distress, and as she spoke the schooner awed widely inh he wind and lay to; but the combat on board grew fiercer and fiercer, and all looked on in amazement More I cannot say; but, within a short | er course, and then swept 4 into , and dread, for it seemed as though the new vessel had fallen into the hands of a crew of devils. Again Captain Blanchard turned upon the two men at his side. “Men, 1 am not one you can trifle with. I demand an answer to my question—what means the flight of yonder schooner and the combat on board? I left my son on the deck of that vessel.” ‘See, sir, the schooner is putting back for the cove; it will soon come to anchor, and then you can learn all. The ys inetd has ceased, sir,”’ and the sea- man pointed to the schooner, which was now running landward wing-and-wing. Captain Blanchard made no reply, but all watched the coming vessel, saw her glide gracefully through the channel leading to the cove, and the next instant drop anchor, while a boat put off from the side and headed shoreward. “Hurrah for our side!’ came in ringing boyish tones from the stern-sheets of the approaching boat, and the next instant Enoch Blanchard and an officer yn uniform sprung upon the pier, “Father, allow me to present Lieutenant Wayne Weredith, of whom you haveheard. My mother and jister, Lieutenant Meredith,” still amazed, Captain Blanchard accepted the out- stretched hand of the young officer, while his wife and daughter bowed. “You must pardon a liberty J have taken with your vessel, Captain Blanchard, but I borrowed it for a good purpose, which I will tell you, ‘Learning from an old seaman who sailed with me when I was a midshipman, and whose life I twice saved, of a haunt of smugglers on this coast, and of which he was a member, I offered him par- don if he would aid me in their capture, and he did 80, by tel me that your vessel was to be seized by them turned into a coast-pirate, and that he was in town to give them notice when you put to sea, for it was known that you intended anchoring off your own home, * With this information I arranged my plans, and kno something of this | ty, having visited my uncle Eustace years ago, I ye the smugglers’ cavern, disguised as a spy, and them upon the schooner, which they supposed deserted; but I had already ordered an officer o: “uy own vessel and two boats’ crews to take possession of your vessel and conceal themselves on board, which they did, making prisoner of Se yer’ son here. “Shortly after I ed with the smugglers, the craft was put under sail and headed seaward, and then I gave the signal for attack, and out of the hold came my men, and, after a d rate fight, we sey, = tured the surprised outlaws and now have them in irons; and ugh all your son behaved with the courage of a vete for Lieutenant Bartlett releas- ed him as soon as he found out who he was, and he joined in the attack upon the smugglers.” Captain Blanchard was deligh at the turn af- fairs had taken, and invited the lieutenant and his men to the house; but Wayne Meredith told him their work was not ie complete—the cavern was yet 08 stormed, and asked if Enoch might accom- m, PT father neadny Save his consent, but the moth- 4 ae until Enoch begged earnestly to go, and e b' White your men are getting Nay and putting the wounded and prisoners in the boats, De can come up to the house and have a glass of wine with me,” si Wayne Meredith readil ted, and givin ayne Me y consen' an an order to Lieutenant Bartlett regarding _ tea wounded, and Pe ne meets he offered his arm to Mrs. Blanchard and walked toward the cottage, followed by Captain Blanchard, Lulu, and Enoch. As ae Soe into the full light of the omg the es of Wayne Meredith and Lulu Blanc met. ey had both been curious to see the other's face, md that one glance told each volumes of the Soushte of the other. “A pleasant and successful cruise in your schoon- ar, aa el and the young officer dashed off his Jlass of wine, ‘ Athen after another glass to the health of the la- dies, Wayne Meredith and Enoch departed, the latter almost tempted not to go as he saw tears in his mother’s eyes, Arriving at the pier Lieutenant Meredith found his own boats filled his crew, and the two boats of the smugglers containing the wounded, dead, and ners. . Seats hiitn the stern sheets of his cutter, fol- lowed by Enoch, he gave the order to give way and the four moved out of the cove as silently as they had entered it. irting the coast for a few miles, they came to Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. . the cliff in which was the smugglers’ cavern, and landing noiselessly, the sailors scaled the steep rock, and led by their dashing young officer, dragged down the canvas curtain and rushed into the cave. Though surprised the smugglers did not tamely submit, and a fierce encounter followed; but only for a few minutes did it last as the sailors outnum- bered them two to one, and they soon cried for mercy. “‘Mr. Bartlett, you remain here with the men, and I will return and acquaint Captain De Lancy with our success; then we will bring the schooner as near as possible and come to anchor, and remove this booty in the.boats.” ** You can lay the schooner alongside the cliff, sir; there is go of depth, and 1 know the channel in here well,’ said Enoch. ‘*Then you shall pilot the schooner in, Come with me,”’ Entering the smallest boat the lieutenant and Enoch were rowed rapidly away from the cavern, the youth taking the tiller-ropes and steering through the rocky islands that dotted the coast. Just at daybreak the boat landed at the pier in front of the Eustace mansion, and found Captain De Lancy and his land force starting in search of Lieutenant Meredith, about whom the commander was most anxious. With glad surprise he learned of the success of the expedition, and remarked prarapare § “You sly young officers have gained all the honor, while I slumbe sweetly in an easy-chair in your library, Meredith. Well, Pll not quarrel with you. for I’m getting too old to be climbing over rocks and boarding vessels. Now let us go on schooner and see what our capture amounts to,” Under the protege of Enoch Blanchard, who proved himself a thorough sailor, the schooner, of war headed up the coast and in half an hour ran gently alongside the cliff, where her arrival was aces with a cheer by the part of her crew already there. Having transferred the booty and prisoners to the schooner, the fleet vessel headed up the coast, Enoch still at the helm; but when off his cottage home, the youth bade farewell to his new-found friends, and went over the side into his own staunch little pf for, seeing the approach of the vessel, Captain Blanchard had sent Mr. Judson out to meet his son, who returned quite a hero after the adven- tures of the night, CHAPTER VI. THE END OF LIF£’S VOYAGE. No matter what the early life of Oliver Eustace had been, it could certainly be said of him that he was a perfect seaman, and the schooner had not been oe hours at sea on her southern cruise ere Cap Blanchard congratulated himself upon hav- a first-mate in whom he had perfect confidence. aving fully recovered from his illness, Oliver Eustace had set to work with a will, and when he bade farewell to those at the cottage who had proven his best friends, he left behind a warm f in their hearts for the unfortunate man. One night—a week after seae ous and sailing from the little cove—Captain Blanchard was taken suddenly ill, and was confined to his cabin; but he felt that all would go well in the hands of his mate, and had no anxiety for his vessel. When not on duty Oliver Eustace was always with his commander, reading or talking to him, and through his illness of several weeks proved a most devoted and St om oe At length Captain Blanchard was on his feet once more, but a wreck of his former self, for his face was white and ard, and his body bent. “When we reach southern latitudes you will come round all right, never fear,”’ said the mate, cheer- fully, to his commander; but the words poved not to be true, for after a few days Captain Blanchard was again down seriously ill, and was compelled to relinquish the entire control of the vessel to his mate. Calling his officer into the cabin one night, Captain Blanchard said: “ Eustace, if I thought that I would live to reach home, I would Fed about and run back with all speed; but I will not live a week.” “Nonsense, captain, you are blue.” “Yes, I am blue, and with cause; I know that I am dying, and the medicines I take do me no good. In a week’s time, my friend, you will bury me in blue water.” “T hope not, sir; perhaps to-morrow you will feel differen jhe “No, [had a dread at my heart when J left home that I would never see my wife and children and I know that my presentiment will come true.” Oliver Eustace said no more then, and Captain Blanchard sunk into an uneasy slumber. But each day proved that the sick man had diag- nosed his case correctly; with each sunrise he was weaker, with each sunset he ex to die, Again, one night, when in the Gulf, he sent for Oliver Eustace. ‘Oliver, my friend, I feel that I cannot last long; my cable of life is , and I have a few wo’ to say to Fic doen I die.” “Tam ng, sir,’’ said the mate, deeply moved. “Well, this cruise is turning out well, and will bring my family a good round sum, and after I am dead I wish you to continue the voyage— run down the South American coast and round the Horn and touch at Peru, as was my intention, and out of the prods of the voyage € one-tenth as your share, des a captain hee “Do not think of me, Captain Blanchard.” “But I will think of you. I leave you to stand in my shoes, and in command of my vessel, and to you : I look that my family shall be cared for and receive their share.” “*T will do all im my power, sir, to carry out your every wish,’’ said the mate, firmly. “I know it, Cliver, and if there is one thing that I can do for you ere I die I will do it.” The mate’s eyes flashed fire for an instant, and he said, earnestly: ‘“There is one thing you can do for me, Captain Blanchard.” “Name it, Oliver.’’ “Years ago, we were rivals for the hand of yout sweet wife; I lost and you won; but in your daugh- ter, I have found one I love with my whole heart. All the love I felt for her mother I give to her, and, though double her age, I would make her my wife.” “‘Nothing would please me more, Oliver, than to see Lulu your wife, for I know now that you are a changed man, and under her influence you would never return to your wicked life. Yes, win her heart, and I give my consent on my dying bed to have you marry her.” “ But, sir, will she believe it was your will unless she has your word forit? Can you not write a few lines? and, armed with this, I feel that she will be mine.” “She is very young yet, Oliver, and if you wilk romise to wait until she is eighteen I will willingly 0 as you ask,” * Assuredly I will, sir; it will be nearly a year be- fore the schooner again anchors in the cove, and—’* “Ah! what.a sorrow will light on that little home when they know that I stand not on the deck; when they know that I am far down beneath the dark wa- ters of the Gulf;”? and Captain Blanchard buried his face in his hands. ‘ Eustace, I am not afraid to die. I have faced death often, and I dread not the here after; but itis hard to say farewell forever to my poor wife, my poor children. Little did they know when I said good-by that they would never see me more. “ And, my friend, look after my brave boy, and when he is older make him an officer on the schoon- er, for he is well capable of it; and if there is a war with England—and I feel that it must come—let this vessel be armed, and become a privateer ta cruise against the foes of the United States, and on an armed deck, I know that Enoch will win a name nd himself; but you wished me to write a line to Lulu or you. : The mate eagerly placed before the dying mar pen, ink, and paper, and propping him up so that he could write, awaited in silence. Grasping the pen with a firmness that the dying will often show, Captain Blanchard wrote as fol- lows: “Atv Sea, Dec. 10th, 1810. ) ‘On board Schooner Light Wing. { “My Brtovep DavecuTer LuLtu—Long ere your eyes fall upon these lines, he whom you call father will have slipped his cable for that other world where storms never come, and therefore my words should have double-weight with you as coming from one over whom hovers the shadow of death. ‘*Knowing that no lover has ever won your youny heart, and believing that I act for your good, I here urge that you, after you arrive at the aa of eigh- teen, become the wife of one whom I eve to my truest friend—Oliver Eustace. ‘Through the long weeks of my illness he has cared for me as though he were my own brother. and in his care do I leave my vessel. His lips will tell you of my death, and how I died, fearless, and in the hope that you will all be happy, even though I ep at the bottom of the sea. ‘* Oliver loves you, Lulu, with his whole heart, and I know that he will make you a noble husband; hence, grant the dying entreaty of your father, an become his wife. ‘For the last time in this life your old father bids you farewell. “Martin BLANCHARD,” The letter was then addressed, and two more writ- ten—one to his wife and one to Enoch ‘*Now call in Mr. Judson and one of the men, Oliver, that they ae, witness the papers turning over the schooner cargo to you.” The mate hastily obeyed and the papers were drawn up, signed and witnessed, after which the dying captain fell back exhausted. From that moment Captain Blanchard failed more rapidly, and the following evening at sunset he was carried on deck, at his own request, to die, Wistfully his eyes wandered over the placid and then upon his beautiful vessel; then they fel upon the setting sun, and though his sufferings were great, he showed no man of anguish, but with his fixed upon the rosy West, and his hand claspi fhat of Oliver Eustace, he sunk into the sleep o death—his voyage of life had ended. CHAPTER VII. LULU’S ADVENTURE. One afternoon, half a Fp after the daring capture of the epinaaiens by Lieutenant Wayne Meredith Lulu mounted a pony that her mother had bought for Enoch, and cantered away on a ride by he x Several times before she had taken the same road for it was a favorite ride of hers, and she was wont to go out As se Smugglers’ Cliff, as the cavern rock was now ed, and gaze up and down the coast and far out upon the sea, Perhaps she also liked the landward view from the cliff, for it looked down upon the t mansion, the inheritance of Wayne Meredith, with its beauti- ful Roane and pleasant fields surrounding. “Stand there, Button, while I work,” said the dle and u2- m the horse a portfolio of paper ard beautiful girl, as she sprung from her fastened ied ve pencils,
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———— “This will make a pretty sketch, and if he comes, as he promised he would, to see us, I will surprise hia with it, for I'll frame it in autumn leaves.”’ So muttering, the young girl sought the best posi- tion she could find for the purpose, and seated her- self upon a rock to sketch the pretty scene. “ry wonder where he is now? At sea somewhere I Suppose; and I wonder if he has ever thought of me?’ ‘“*Sisly girl I am to be dreaming of the handsome and rich young officer, whom I never saw but once, Hey ho, but I cannot help it,’ and Lulu Blanchard, , went on with her drawing, not knowing that two pairs of eyes were fastened upon her, and two tongues were muttering threats against her. Crouching down in a crevice of the rocks, whither Lulu’s coming had caused them to take refuge hast- ily, were two men dressed in sailors garb. They were rough-looking men, with bronzed, beard- ed faces means of edge, oth were armed with knife and belts, and near them lay shovels, pic not yet stained with earth. “T tell you, Tom, we were fools not to goto work when we first came here,” growled one, ** And been seen by some one and lost all. No, I tell you, we did well to wait; in two hours it will be dark, and in as much more time we can dig up the box and then clear out.’’ “But the gal; she may take it into her head to look about her, and then we’ll be discovered.” “No; when she gets to work with her drawing— for that’s what she’s after—I will nab her.” ‘* What the devil will you do that for?” “‘Forreyenge. That is old Blanchard’s daughter. and I’ve always believed her brother was the cause o our being captured that night.” “But, what will you do with the gal?” “TH take her to a place I know up the coast, and let her folks know she can be had for a good sum in old. If they don’t want to buy her, why I'll kill er; cursed if I don’t!” You seem to be mighty angry with the little wo- man, shipmate.”’ ‘Tam,’ savagely said the other; ‘‘ and I’ll tell you gh Isailed with her father, ten years ago, and he had me lashed up and whipped.” ‘* What had you done?” “*Y got drunk and cursed the second maie, and he had me lashed; but I swore to be even with him, and I’ve a good mind to give up the gold and kill the gal,” and the speaker looked savagely ferocious in his hatred for one who had never injured him. An hour passed away, and so deeply was Lulu en- ossed in her work, that she failed to observe two orms silently creeping upon her, Nearer and nearer they came, crawling as noise- lessly as snakes, and as vicious, Over the rocks until within a few feet of her. “There, I have finished my sketch,” and the maid- ‘en started to rise to her feet; but she was seized in =yelr, 3 arms and a rough hand placed over her mouth, Quickly she was borne by one of the ruffians down the ace pathway into the cavern, and there secure- jy bound and gagged with her own scarf. “Nowfor the pony; I'll go and turn him loose,” said one of the men. “No; are you a fool? I'll fix him so that they'll believe he has tumbled from the cliff with his rider,” answered the man who had sworn revenge against Captain Blanchard and his name, oing up the cliff path again, the two men seized the poor pony, and turning his back toward the sea, they forced the frightened animal backward until, with a startled shriek, he was hurled into the waters be and had evidently come to the cliff by a skiff, tied to a large rock at the water's istol in their and an ax, low. Heavily he fell, and sunk from the sight of the «cruel men who had doomed him to die. ‘* He'll be washed up on the beach, and they’ll believe the gal arowned with him. Now, let us go to * work;” and the speaker took up the pick and shovel, and began digging at the root of the solitary tree that grew upon the summit of the cliff. For a while, they glanced around them searching- dy; but as it grew nearer dark they forgot their cau- tion and worked hard, throwing out the earth and stones and making a sd 3 hole, yet still digging on. “Are you certain, pmate, that the box was never removed?” **T am sure.” “Well, are you sure that this is the spot where you and the captain buried it?” “What should I dig here for if I was not sure? Do you think I am digging this hole for fun?” an- grily said the other. * You are digging it for your grave!” The pick and shovel fell from the hands of the workmen, and, with white faces, they turned, to behold a’ tall form standing within a few feet of them, * Well, my jail-birds, what deviltry are you up to now?” said the new-comer, quietly, while he stood pening upon them, his right hand upon a pistol-butt hat was visible in the breast of his coat, One glance at the man before them, and they re- cognized one they believed to be far away; one who had captured their band six months before, hung their leader, and sent them to prison, from whic they had managed to escape in some way. But must they submit tamely now? Were they not two to one, and were they not arm- ed as well as the man before them? Besides, at their feet was a hidden treasure—a few thousands in gold, buried a year before, and they would not yield their gold and liberty without a struggle. As though the same thought pervaded both, and a uelist. , common impulse governed them, they sprung for- ward, their hands upon their knives. Quickly the hand was drawn from the_ breast- pocket, a pistol was leveled, and there followed a sharp report—a groan—a fall. But the other ruffian hesitated not at the fall of his comrade, and, with uplifted knife, sprung upon his enemy, and the keen blade deseentted. Quickly and with skill the knife was parried with the barrel of the pistol, and a blow from the shoul- der straight was leveled at the face of the assailant. It struck fair, and down went the smu gler to the eh yar but he was quickly on his feet, his pistol in 1and, and once — he attempted the life of his enemy, firing full upon him. With a cry, whether of rage or pain it was then hard to tell, he rushed upon the smuggler, and closed with him in a deadly struggle. Both were powerful men, and, for a while, the contest seemed to be equal; but, suddenly, the smuggler was hurled to the earth with a force that momentarily stunned him, and when he re- turned to consciousness he found himself securely bound, while his comrade lay dead not far away. Looking around for his captor, he beheld him going down the cliff-path at a — pace. A few seconds more and he stood in the entrance to the cavern, and saw a few feet from him the bound form of Lulu Blanchard. In an instant he had removed the scarf from her mouth and cut the bonds from her wrists and ankles. ‘** Lieutenant Meredith!’ broke from her lips, ** At your service, Miss Blanchard, I .saw with a sea-glass from my balcony, those devils seize you upon the cliff and came to your aid.” “Tt was so noble of you, and I owe you more than life; but I knew not that you were at the mansion,” said the delighted maiden. “Yes, I arrived last night, having run down to spend a month’s leave; but you are unnerved, so come with me to the mansion and I will drive you home, for it is getting dark.” ‘** And those horrible men?” and Lulu shuddered. “One of them I was forced to kill—the other I made prisoner, They were two of the smugglers I captured here six months ago.” ading Lulu from the cavern the two ascended ate cliff and passed near the dead and bound smug- ers. . Stooping over the prisoner, Wayne Meredith made his bindings more secure, and then walked rapidly along with the maiden in the direction of his elegant home, Lulu showing great distress when told by the young officer the fate of gg Britton the pony. It was not a very long walk, but darkness settled upon the earth ere the mansion was reached, and Lulu felt nervous, for her fright had given her a great shock, and she knew her mother would be most anxious regarding her. But Wayne Meredith ordered' the horses put at once to the carriage, and sending servants to the cliff after the dead and living smugglers, he drove Lulu rapidly home and delivered her safely into the arms of her mother, who had indeed become most anxious regarding her. Lieutenant Meredith declined the invitation to spend the Kew, and returned home; but the following morning Lulu received a large bouquet of choice flowers from the mansion conser- vatory, and a short note inquiring after her health, and telling her that the dead smuggler had been buried and the living one returned to rison, PM As for the treasure for which the wretches were digging, I found upon search that it had been re- move long before, or had never been buried in that lace. Atany rate the cavity served as a grave for the unfortunate fellow whom I was forced to kill.” Thus ended Wayne Meredith’s note, and to it Lulu returned quite a lengthy reply, which closed with an invitation to the young officer to dine at Sea View Cottage that day with her mother, brother and her- self, an invitation the lieutenant eg with mar- velous alacrity, for the blue eyes of the maiden bet y playing sad havoc with his peace of mind, CHAPTER VII. THE LIGHT-WING’S R A SLowLy the months dragged away, until mere than a year had gone by, and the inmates of Sea View Cottage were beginning to feel anxious arding the schooner, for in those days, kind reader, the mails were very irregular; and ta they did not expect letters from Captain Blanchard, except a chance opportunity offered for sending one, there was danger to be dreaded from buccaneers which then cruised in southern waters. Even if the ws of the Light-Wing kept her clear of the pirates there was the ever-to- readed dan- er of storms, which sent many a stanch vessel and bold crew to the bottom. Captain Blanchard kad expected to be gone about a ear, and now that other months were Nee 5 by the ond wife dreaded harm might have befallen him, for the war of 1812 with Great Britain was now breaking out, and the sea was full of dangers. At length, one pnmens afternoon, the ht-Wing was sighted standing rapidly landward, and heading for the cove. Ata glance Enoch had recognized her and hastily called his mother and sister, and with joyous faces the three stood upon the balcony, watching the ap- proach of the beautiful vessel. Seizing his telescope from the beckets, when the schooner drew nearer, Enoch turned it upon the deck and looked Jong and earnestly. “T do not see father. Mr. Eustace is on deck, and se is Tudsoas aus 4 canoor see canner, “He is doubtless in the cabin,’ said Mrs. Blanch- ard, while a dread came upon her heart. ‘**We shall soon see. They head for the channel, Come, let us go down to the pier.”’ ‘*Do you see your father yet, Enoch?” **No, mother; he is not on deck,”’ Go down and meet the boat—quick! Something tells me harm has befallen your father,”’ and Mrs, Blanchard sunk down into a rustic chair, while Lulu, with pale face, came to her side. ‘ Like the wind Enoch sped down the hill and ran out upon the pier. The schooner had just let fall her anchor, and the crew were furling the sails, while a boat put off from the side. In that boat was Oliver Eustace and two oarsmen; Captain Blanchard was not there. “Welcome back, Mr. Eustace; but where is my father,”’ cried Enoch, in as calm a voice as he coulé _ command, “Knoch, my poor boy,” and springing upon thy ier - schooner’s commander grasped the youth rand, me sir; where is my father?” almost cow manded Enoch, Mo was taken very ill a few weeks after sailin;, and—”’ “Ts he dead?”’ and the dark eyes turned upon the mate. “Heis; he died in my arms, when we were crossing the Gulf of Mexico, and I buried him. T have much to tell you, poor boy, and a letter which your father wrote to you ere he died,” and the mate spoke aay. **Come, let us go up to the cottage. My poor mother, she alre dreads evil tidings,’”’ and mas- tering his own fee ings, Enoch led the way to the house, where sat Mrs. Blanchard, white and grief- stricken, while Lulu knelt beside her weeping. They knew some great sorrow had befallen them when they saw Oliver Eustace land alone. Mechanically the wife stretched out her hand to the mate, while from her cold lips came the ques- tion: ‘* What have you to tell me?” In low words Oliver Eustace told the story of Cap- tain Blanchard’s long illness and death, It was a terrible, bitter blow for the mother and her children, and the deepest gloom settled down upon the household; but they longed to hear the story over and over again, of how Martin Blanchard died, and it was long after midnight ere the mate arose to return to his vessel. “You will remain with us to-night? your old room is ready,’’ said Mrs. Blanchard, speaking for the first time for hours. “No, Imust run on up to the city and get rid of my cargo, which will bring a good price in market now, and, by the way, the voyage has turned out well, for i have around sum for you; but we'll talk business at another time. Good-night, and, Enoch, do not let your mother grieve too deeply.” The mate left the cottage, and glancing from the door half an hour later, Enoch saw the Light- Wing gliding up the coast, jooking like some huge white bird swooping over the sea, ; But Oliver Eustace did not remain long away from the little cottage, for in ten days he was back again, and he had much news to tell. He brought with him the personal effects of his late commander, and the letters written by the dying man to those he so dearly loved. In handing Lulu’s letter to her he said kindly: “T give you this, Lulu, but I do pw wish it to wor- ry you in the Jeast. Let your answer remain unsaid for awhile yet.” Then turning to Enoch, he continued: “There is stirring news afloat, my boy, for the British and American cruisers have met in combat on the high seas, and the whole country is aroused, What say you to taking a hand?” Enoch’s face flushed with joy. To be a sailor on a man-of-war had been his great ambition, for he felt determined to work his way u * Above all things, I would try,” he said. ‘Well, root good father, ere he died, knew that war was inevitable, and we talked much together over the future, and it was his wish that I should arm and man the schooner and make a privateer of her, sa a one of my officers.’’ Me! tice to serve my coun- “Yes; he knew, as I do, that you were every way fitted for the position, and though but a boy in years —not quite seventeen, I believe—you area man in experience on shipboard, for your father has taken you many acruise with hin.” **Oh, yes, sir; and when I was but twelve years of age he let me bring the brig into port without any- one else giving an order, and I did not make a mis- take; and you knowI bave studied navigation for ae, and Enoch was delighted at the prospect be ore him. ‘‘ Would you take my son from me, too?” Tt was Mrs. Blanchard who Spoke and Oliver Eur tace winced, but he: said quickly: “Tt was the wish of his father, for he felt the Enoch would distinguish himself if he had the op portunity.” se | suppose Iam selfish; but my grief has made me so, Oliver, and it is but just thet every one who can should serve his country.” “a “The profits of privateering are immense, and— ‘*T have money enough; that will not tempt at this home, the interest in the schooner, and what have in bank will give us all a bandsome support; pus the vessel I must risk if she goes to sea as a pri- vateer,”’ ‘Yes, there is some r'sk in it, but she is very fleet and wel! armen she cen make a gonud Brht.”
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rere ea re os i ete > Ser Tg Te aT ep Otiint madame = Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. “When would you sail?” “In about four weeks; it would take about that time to equip and get her ship-shape, and Enoch | could remain at home until she was ready for sea.”’ “Then hecan go. Dinah has gotten married since ‘ou left, and I will get her husband as a hired man, and he will be a protection to us,” and,while Enoch, his mother and Oliver Eustace discussed the matter still further, Lulu arose and sought her own room. Here she opened and read her own letter, and her face turned deadly pale. ““Marry. fim, when I love another? Oh, no, no, no!” and she buried her face in her hands. “Tt would be sinful to become his wife when Iam engaged to Wayne Meredith, whom I love with my whole soul, and I know that he loves me; he has told me so over and over again, and made me prom- ise to become his wife one of these days, **Now my father rises from the sea between us, and if I disobey his dying request I will be forever unhappy. What shall I do, what shall I do?” Again the golden head was bowed in grief, and for along time it remained thus. Then she raised it quickly, her face deadly pale, but a resolute look upon her pretty mouth. “TI will do it, come what may,” she said, firmly, a washing away the tear-stains she entered the arlor. = Oliver Eustace was there alone—her mother had been called out to see Dinah about some household affairs, and Enoch was hitching the horse to the buggy to drive Captain Eustace back to town, for he was anxious to commence work on the schooner at once. Walking up to the man, Lulu said, firmly: “Captain Eustace, I have read my father’s letter and I have determined to obey his command—I wi marry you.” “Ts it so hateful to you, Lulu, to become my wife that you shudder when you give me the promise?” and his face paled. “T admire and like you, sir, exceedingly, and your kindness to my poor father in his illness can never forget or repay; but there is a vast difference in our ages—you were the lover of my mother, years ago, and—and—” **Go on, Miss Blanchard.” - “Tam engaged to another.” ** What?” “T mean it—I love another; but, if you ask me to keep my father’s wish and become your wife, I will so “Tdo askit, Lulu. You are all that I have in the world to love, and for you I have changed from the evil life I once led.” : The man’s voice trembled, and pitying him, and feeling that she was doing her duty to her dead fa- ther, Lulu said, firmly: » “then I will become your wife. Let us speak no more about it for the present.”’ At this moment Enoch called to say the buggy was waiting, and, pees * hasty adieu to Mrs. Blan- chard and Lulu, Captain Eustace departed. As he drove away with Enoch, Mrs. Blanchard said, sadly: sat * Lulu, our father made a dying wish in his letter to me that concerned you deeply.’ ca} aa it, mother; I have promised to become wife.”’ “ And Wayne Meredith?” - “I will write him to-night severing our engage- “What reason will you give him?” “That I intend marrying some one else.”’ “My poor child! I fear your life will be an unhap- py one, ma one man and loving another; but uu have decided as I wished, for your poor father’s request must be granted. “ Oliver Eustace is older than you are; he has led wild life, and is a stern man; but I hope you will happy;’’ and the mother kissed her daughter's a face with a hopeful look, but in her heart there as a dread of coming sorrow. CHAPTER IX. A DASTARD’S ACT, Tr was a dark night, and the sea moaned dismally and winds swept over the hills, while a slow rain tered down upon the earth. It was a bad a be upon the water, and yet, undaunted by the darkness and rain, a small boat was bounding up the coast, close-reefed, and held well in hand. ‘ e stern sat but one person, envelo n. In the ste t but if i storm-coat and hat, and, peering out into the dark- ness as his little vessel, dashed a ong. Suddenly the put his helm hard down and ran straight for the shore, at a point that brought him between the earthen arms of a small basin. As if knowing the channel well he held his little ‘craft on its course, crossed the harbor, and brought up alongside a small pier. SOnon the hill above, ng: 4 visible, was a small cottage; it was the home of the Blanchards. “Tt is a fearful night for you to come here, and in a boat too,” said Lulu Blanchard, who a moment before had entered the room and greeted her visitor, Wayne Meredith. “T could not stay away, and I was forced to come in my boat, as I had sold my horses, not expecting to be at home during the war, which you know has been declared.”’ “Yes, and you are going?’ said Lulu, in a con- strained tone. “Of course; I could not remain at home when my country needed my services; but, Lulu, I received your letter, and I have come to ask you what it means?” “You read it carefully?” “ Yes. ” “Then you should know, Lieutenant Meredith.” “No, Miss Blanchard, 1 wish to hear from your own lips that I am cast aside—am I to understand that you have pledged yourself to become another man’s wife?”’ “T have.” “Oh, Lulu, how could you do this?” and the voice of the young man trembled. Lulu made no immediate answer: when Dinah told her that Lieutenant Meredith was in the parlor she had at first refused to see him, but her mother had urged that she would, and she had done so, avowing to herself that she would be as cold as an icicle. Now that he was before her, begging for her love, her strength of will was gone, and she broke out ese “T will tell you why I wrote you that letter-—I will tell you why I intend to marry another, and then you will pity, not hate me. Here, read this, and you will see that I but prove myself a dutiful daughter to my poor, dear, dead father.”’ She read Wayne Meredith the letter twice through slowly, withholding the name of Oliver Eustace, an then, like a lawyer, he began to dissect it, and said; “Your father, Lulu, says, believing he is doing that for your good, and planning for your happiness he urges it; but suppose he were here to know how unhappy it makes you to marry this person—” ** Oliver Eustace,” she said, without thinking. “Great God! Oliver Eustace! He is my uncle Eustace’s son, he who was disowned—why did you not speak of this before?” “Yeeling that it might Sage you, my mother thought it best that we should not speak of him to you,” Wayne Meredith walked back and forth several times, excitedly; then he said: * Lulu, when i wasa very little boy I met, at the mansion left me by my unele, Oliver Eustace, and we were never friends, for he had an overbearing nature I did not like, and one day gave me a severe blow for separating two dogs that he had.set to fighting; he was a wild fellow, and I have heard hard stories of him, but for their truth I do not vouch; I only know that his evil conduct shortened his fath- er’s life, and that I was made heir to the property that should have been his, and it pains me deeply at times to feel that I have the wealth that by rights souls have been the inheritance of my cousin, ver. + ‘* Several times I have written to him, offering him a fair income, but no answer to my letters has been pono and I believed him dead and in a foreign and, “Now he comes up as your intended husband—to take from me the one I loved more than all else in the world, in return for the fortune I have taken from him; but, Lulu, if you say that you will marry him, I will yield, and most gladly will I restore to him all that I inherited from his father. “T have ample means besides, and my sword will bring me more.” ‘Wayne Meredith, you are a noble man. No, I feel that it would be a sin to marry one man loving another, and if you will take me back I will be yours.” The form at the window glided swiftly away, fled down the hill and halted upon the pier. A boat had been hauled 2 on the pier for repairs, and behind this he crouched, unmindful of the beat- ing storm. ‘ Z ith the patience of a tiger lying in wait for his prey, the man waited. An hour passed, and then a Highs light streamed out from the cottage door and darkness followed. Slowly down the hillside came a form—the same who had come in the first boat. He passed the crouching form, unsuspicious of danger, and stooped to untie his boat, Then from his covert the other sprung upon him; a knife descended deep into the exposed back, was withdrawn, and the assassin bounded into his own boat, cut it loose, and sped away out of the basin, facing the pitiless storm and daring the r b Nes in his flight from the dark form lying upon e pier. \ Hardly had the boat gained an offi poe came down that hillside and e pier. when another tened along a Bens BER SIE STS the colored hired-man, came hurrying down to the shore, where they found Lulu lying insensible across the body of Wayne Meredith. CHAPTER X, BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. Two days after the tragedy upon the little pier that stormy night, a vessel was seen entering the lit tle basin in front of Sea View Cottage. “*Tt is the schooner, mother, though she is greatly changed; and isn’t she a beauty?’ said Enoch with enthusiasm. ‘**She will bear you from me, my son—perhaps tu your death, as she did your father, These are des- perate times Enoch,” said the widow sadly; then she continued: “Go down and meet Captain Eustace: he will be surprised to know of the terrible affair that has hap- pened here.” Enoch hastened down to the pier, and the schooner having come to anchor, he returned with Oliver Eus-- tace, who told him that his uniform was aboard wait- ing tor him, and that the next day he wished to sail. “T am ready, sir: but I dislike, particularly just now, to leave my poor mother and sister, for we have had a terrible shock since you were last hére.’*, “Indeed! what was it?” asked Oliver Eustace. “T suppose you.know, sir, that we are acquainted with the one who was your father’s heir, Lieutenant Wayne Meredith? Well, he came to see Lulu the: other night, the night it stormed so, and not wishing him to return in his boat with the wind blowing a gale, shortly after he left, Lulu ran down to the pier to stop him. “We heard a shriek, and Dick and ee ram down to the shore and found my sister hac fainted, and was lying beside Lieutenant Meredith who was—’” “Dead?” said Captain Eustace, with some eager- ness, and surprise. ‘No, sir, but fearfully wounded, for a knife had been driven into his back. We carried him to the house, and Dick went after Doctor North, who pro-- nounced him fatally wounded at first; but he has: now some hopes of his recovery.”’ “ Have you no clew as to who did the deed?” . “Oh, yes, we all think it was one of the band of smugglers, whom Lieutenant Meredith captured, you remember, some time since?” ‘Yes, I was ill at the time; but I heard of the cap- ture: you are doubtless right, for those smugglers: are revengeful fellows: but how are your mother and sister?” “They are very blue, but well. Come, mother is on the paloeny but Lulu never leaves the bedside of r Meredith, She is wrapped up in that man, and don’t blame her, as he is a noble fellow.” Reaching the cottage, Mrs. Blanchard greeted Cap- tain Eustace kindly, and he said sadly: “Tam distressed to hear of the sad affair about my poor young kinsman, and I will not sail as soon as I intended, as it is my duty to nurse him until ha is out of danger, for I feel no enmity against him, Mrs. Blanchard, for being in my shoes; I brought it all on myself.” “You are noble to speak thus, Oliver, and every time we see you, we discover some new good trait in your character; but come in and see Lieu. tenant Meredith, Poor fellow, he is unable to recog, nine even Lulu who is devoted in her attentions to- Oliver Eustace followed Mrs. Blanchard into the sick-room—the same where he had long lain ill. Lulu was seated by the side‘of the wounded man, fanning him, and she was pale and haggard; but az she saw who it was with her mother, she turned 4 deadlier hue, and simply bent her head in response to his words to her. ‘ “ Poor fellow!’ and Oliver Eustace bent over his: wounded cousin. “He is the same handsome fellow he was when I last saw him, only he is a man now, and one who has won quite a name for himself. “We must not let him die, Lulu, for he must live to enjoy his wealth, but it was an ugly wound here. ceived. Strange it did not kill him.” ‘‘The assassin tried hard to do so,” broke from Lulu’s lips. ‘“No doubt; but he failed, and with good care he will pull through all right. Iwill help you nurse him, for you look broken down,” said the captain, kindly, “Oh, no; I am not tired, only the shock to my nerves was terrible. It was I that found him on the r. “So Enoch told me. But you must rest. We wil not sail for several days, and I will relieve you as nurse. I will go back on board the schooner and re. turn after dark,” and Captain Eustace left the room, peene still remaining at her post by the bedside of hey over. Several days after the arrival of the schooner—now metamorphosed into a privateer—in the basin, Oliver Eustace entered the room where Wayne Meredith lay, followed by a man in aseaman’s attire. aa ‘Lulu was seated, as usual, by the side of the -o_ S ’ Making his boat fast and lowering his sail, the man “Wayne, Wayne! you must not go to-night; the | patient, though her face was less pale and haggard. bE ' walked rapidly up the pathway and knocked at the | storm increases. I came after you to make youre- | as now there were aoe: hopes of the pag! bo! ° ua door of the cottage, and, a moment after, disap- | main, when I looked out and ‘saw what a fearful | the wounded man, and then Oliver Eustace had re~ - r. a ¥ ( peared within. night it was.”’ ) lieved her in her duties, and each night had sat up t oe ‘a Hardly had the door closed upon his form, when ut no answer came, only the howling of the wind | with his cousin, and been as kind and gooda nurse at Fo! a <i ne the basin darted another small craft, hardly | and the wash of the waves. as a womau would have been. + a ll it: xfer than the one that had preceded it. ‘‘He has not gone, for there is his boat. He is Lulu glanced up with surprise at the entrance cf sie ie This one, too, held its way across the little harbor, | reefing his perhaps,” and she stepped forward | the seaman, who doffed his tarpaulin politely, ae on J rick and landed at the pier, while from the stern emerged | to the end of the pier. ’ ‘*Lulu, this man was an old sailor onthe lieuten~ = - _ ———sa single form, also wrapped in a storm-suit. At her feet lay a dark object, and stooping over | ant’s ship, and came aboard the schooner just now, oF i g : Ascending the hill he halted at the balcony, as he | she touched it with her hand; then, above the wail | thinking it was Meredith’s vessel, and wishing tore. _ ‘Sz ae _-—s heard voices within, and cautiously approached a | of the storm, arose a wild shriek upon the air, and | ship with his old officer. , } Reet nya th: By 3 Gli nig ig ool nearly covered by a Mailing vine. | Lulu Wayne ‘““When I told him that the lieutenant had beer — : From position he could within th iu aa hase fell prone upon the body of as on he could see e room ; -and also hear all that was said, ’ bad] and a Saf coped Cnc pe Lae Sets 7p oi SS ss 8 et) PS OS ee oe ee i SS ee er 8 ee Vee ee ee eee eee ko] wounded, he showed such 4 dee srrpast =) | But her shriek was heard, and Enoch and Dick, gged so to see him, thati brought
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i 8s. sae eee Te Ee ee cS ee ate : me, and I shall give him a berth on board the { schooner.” 2 Lulu felt most kindly toward the sailor at once; ¢ any one who liked Wayne Meredith, Lulu liked, and she said kindly: ' “The lieutenant is better now, but we feared for his life for several days.” hag a “Yes, miss; it’s a bad place to drive a knife, in the back, miss. I was wounded that way myself, miss, ; in Spain, when I was cruisin’ with the leftenant here, but he was but a middy then.” : “Some one attempted to kill you then?” asked Lulu. “Fact, miss; it were a woman as got jealous ‘cause I dropped her for another, Them Spanish women is jealous devils, miss, an’ quick with knives. She drove hers deep into my back, just where the leftenant’s wound ‘pears to be,’’ and the seaman bent over the wounded officer, who lay in a kind of } stupor, unconscious of all that went on around him, . A few minutes longer the sailor stayed, chatting glibly about his cruises with the lieutenant, and - then he took his departure, Lulu asking him to come again ere the schooner sailed, and perhaps the young officer would be well enough to recognize m him. When Wayne Meredith awoke from the deep stupor in which he had lain for days, he glanced curiously around, and his eyes fell upon Lulu, and he was about to speak. : ae But she put her finger playfully upon his lips, and told him all that had happened, bidding him, if he wished to get well, to keep perfectly quiet. i ** Doctor North comes twice aday to see you, and you have a good hired nurse; but I watch by you most of the time, and mother and one other help me, so that you are well cared for, and will soon be well again.” : “God bless you, Lulu,” said Wayne, faintly, and he dropped off into a quiet sleep. Fi That night Lulu’s heart beat more lightly than it had for days; Wayne Meredith was better, and would improve rapidly, so said the doctor, and the maiden retired to rest, leaving the hired nurse—a man the doctor had brought—to watch by the side of the patient, neat Seti, CHAPTER XI. } THE MIDNIGHT VISITOR, Txover Lulu retired to rest at an early hour, and soon dropped off into pleasant slumber, it did not last long, for she awoke with a weight upon her heart; a dread of coming evil seemed to oppress her. “Tt is nonsense for me to feel thus; he is much better, and will soon be well, the doctor said,” and with this consolation to herself, she tried to go to sleep once more; but though she had lost a great of rest, and was fatigued with anxious watch- ing, slumber would not come to her eyelids, and she became so nervous she thought that she would get up and go to her mother’s room. she at length determined not to do, for her mother needed all the rest sho could get, she thought. z It was dark all around her, and the house was as silent as the grave, so she knew that it must be at) quite late. ‘ a At le en she could stand it no longer; she would fs get up, w her wrapper on and steal in to see if Boe any change had come over Wayne Meredith, for to- =a ward him her whole anxiety centered. ' Winding her hair about her head, throwing on her wrapper, and sliding into her slippers, all of which : she readily found in the dark, she glided from her ae room and turned into the hall leading into the wing Fey of the cottage where was situated the pleasant, ry mame com of the wounded man. pat ot to disturb him, if he slept, she noiselessly : turned the mney and pushing the door slightly open, lanced within. . A taper burned on the hearth, but the interior of the room was faintly visible, and she beheld the in- - | ez rs yee sleeping soundly, and the nurse also asleep in a Sa chair. peer But another form met her astonished gaze—the + form_of a man gliding along without the slightest « sound, and her breath was almost taken away as an ry ov wering fragrance filled her nostrils. She knew at once that it was chloroform—what could it mean? Again she turned her eyes on the creeping fig- ure, for some strange power held her immovable; her eyes only seemed to possess the strength to move. ihe: Nearer and nearer the figure came to the bed of -—s*- the invalid, and then hung over him, while one -\ hand gently drew away the covering from the left side, which was uppermost. : ae Then the other arm of the midnight visitor was oe raised, and seemed to be poised in the air; but in the clenched hand Lulu beheld a gleam of light. It was the glare of the taper upon steel. The man held a knife in his right hand, and it was pointed at the heart of mane eredith. ‘Then the lips of Lulu Blanchard were unsealed, and a wild cry broke forth as she bounded into the room like an enraged tigress. The knife noaee from the nerveless hand of the intended assassin, and he turned to fly; but the a gt sane pm weeier, him, and clung to him e energy of despair. : : 4 Murderer’ 00 8 not fly!’’ she cried in thrill- tones, { __. *Unloose me, girl, or I'll kill you,” shouted the man; but undaunted she held on, _ | Then the man’s rough fingers clutched at her white delicate throat, and she was hurled from him with the strength of one who knew that his life was at ‘ , r i Half stunned though she was by her fall, and the ~The Boy Duelist. clutch of iron that had grasped her throat, Lulu oom cried for help, as the ruffian bounded for the aoor, ‘Oh! he has gone! he has gone!” she shrieked, as she saw him dart out into the hallway. But no, there was a stern voice heard without, a struggle, a fall, and Enoch Blanchard shouted: “*T have caught him; bring a light, quick.” At this moment Mrs. Blanchard appeared from her room, as white as a ghost, and bearing a lamp. Upon the hall floor lay the form of a man, a red gash on his forehead, and over him stood Enoch Blanchard, half dressed, and with a small hammer, which he had hastily seized, in his hand. ‘He ran upon me, and hearing your cry, sis, I knocked him down, What has he done?” said the youth. “Thank God he is captured. Is he dead?” she asked, with a tremor. “Oh, no; he is only stunned, Go to my room, and bring me arope so that I can t'e him.”’ “Here is your flag halyard, Enoch,” and Lulu handed him the cord she saw hanging on a peg in the hall. “This will do; but what has he done, sis? You and mother look as white as ghosts, and your shrieks must have been heard on board the schooner.” ‘* He came to murder Wayne Meredith. I saw him bending over the bed, with a knife in his hand, and he dropped it when I called out. The nurse has not moved, and he may be dead.” Having bound his prisoner Enoch rushed into the room, his mother and sister now wholly unnerved. “The room is filled with the odor of chloroform, and the nurse is unconscious, but not hurt, I think, Come, open the doors and aid me, or they may die,” he called out. Both Lulu and her mother now sprung quickly to work, The windows and doors were opened, and a draught through the room revived the nurse and Wayne Meredith, for he, also, was under its influ- ence, Upon the bed was found the intended assassin’s knife, a long, bright, and slender blade, which Enoch at once took possession of, as he turned again to see moet his prisoner, leaving the lieutenant to the care of his mother and sister, for the nurse sat stupidly in his chair, not yet having regained his senses, **Come here, sis. Isn't this the fellow who was here with Captain Eustace?” { “Tt is the very man; he said he was an old sailor with Lieutenant Meredith. Oh! how could you be so wicked?” qnd Lulu turned her eyes indignantly upon the sailor, who was now sitting upon the floor, his arms and ankles bound, and the blood dripping from the wound on his head, The man made no reply. He bowed his head and was sullen. : “What will you do with him, Enoch?” asked Lulu. “Where is the nurse?” “Here I am, sir;’’ and that worthy came forward. ““What does all this mean?” asked Enoch, fixing his eyes upon him. “T do not know, sir. I was leaning back in my chair, half-asleep, and the lieutenant was sleeping well, when I suddenly dreamed that I was inhaling delightful perfumes; I now know that I was being chloroformed, and your mother tells me this man at- yer ry, to assassinate Mr, Meredith,” “He did, and would have succeeded, had it not been for my brave sister. Now, keep your eyes open, for I am going to take this fellow where he will do nomore harm, I suppose he is one of the smuggler band.” ere would you take him, Enoch?” “On board the schooner, sis, and put him in dou- ble-irons, until we make an ear-ring for the yard- arm with him. Come, sir.” The man looked quickly up, a strange expression ,on his face, and, without a word, arose and stood before his young captor, though he staggered slight- ly, Spparently from weakness, : soon be back, sis. Look after Mr. Meredith, and tell him this fellow won’t trouble him any more;” and Enoch left the cottage, pulling his pris- oner along after him. Arriving at the pier he made him get into a small skiff, and springing in himself seized the oars and pulled out to the schooner, Boat ahoy !"’ hailed the alert watchman. Ay, ay, l'am coming on board to see Captain Eustace. | Tam Enoch Blanchard.” en right. sir,” answered the guard, and a mo- ment after the youth and his prisoner stood in the cabin before the just awakened and surprised Oliver Eustace. : ‘**Captain, here is one of your crew that I caught in the cottage half an hour ago; he chloroformed the nurse, and then attempted to drive his knife into Lieutenant Meredith’s heart, but was fortunately discovered by my sister, whom he hurled to the floor in rushing from the room.” “He did not injure either Mr, Meredith or the nurse?” - - ‘Fortunately, no; but he needs hanging for the attempt.” , Captain Eustace turned upon the culprit and said, sternly: “What was your motive, sir, in this foul act?” The man looked him squarely in the face and said in a deep voice: « pevenge prompted it.” “ How you leave the schooner?” “I swam ashore just after dark.” Captain Eustace was silent a moment, and then he called out: :: Ho, on deck, there!” e Ay, ay, sir,”’ and a. seaman entered the cabin. Lead this man to Mr, Milroy and tell him to put him in double irons,” ; ceding s of the deck; Lieutenant Milroy, this is officer, Lieutenant Blanchard —I believe you have The prisoner was led away, and Oliver Eustace turned to Enoch: F { “T will go on shore with you; I would see your mother and sister, 2 Ten minutes after the two were in the skiff rowing shoreward, on their way to the cottage, against the inmates of which Fate seemed to hold a settled grudge. 2 CHAPTER XII. THE SEA WOLF. THE te boom of a heavy gun awakened Wayne Meredith from a sweet sleep, the morning following the night of the second attack upon his life by an assassin, But, in spite of the danger he had just passed through, he was apparently much improved; his eyes were brighter, and the wound in his back was healing rapidly. “One, two, three,” and the wounded officer went on counting the guns until twenty-one were fired. ““What canit mean? At first I feared it was an action between one of our cruisers and an English- man; but the firing is a salute of some kind. “Oh that I were not bound down here!” and with an impatient gesture the officer began to drum with his fingers upon the head-board. A few moments after Lulu entered, her face stain- ed with tears; but seeing the improved appearance of her patient she brightened up. ‘‘Tam so glad you are better; I feared last night's affair would cause you to relapse.” \ “Oh, no; it seemed like a dream to me, that is all; but, what is that firing, Lulu, and why these tears?’ “The schooner has. put to sea, and Captain Evs- tace was saluting his new flag—a red weif upon a black field, A strange conceit, isit not?’ ‘Yes; has he changed the name cof the Light Wing?” “Yes, to the Sea Wolf, and he scems very bitter toward our enemies, the English.” “Strange! He is an Englishman by birth him- self, his father coming to America when his scn was five years of age. Your brother has gone, then?” - “Yes; he came in to say good-by, but seein sleeping would not disturb you; but do you know, Wayne, I do not feel easy abdut Enoch's being with Captain Eustace?” “T suppose he will be a good commander to him, you ‘owing as he does his present position to your father, and the schooner, as your mother informed me, be- longing to Enoch,” ‘Yes, mother gave him the vessel, and it was armed and equipped at her pe Pa with the money made on the cruise sou gone.” lar service, for I could have given him a midship- man’s berth; and these privateers are looked upon, in many cases, as lawless; but I hope my cousin's ‘ood — will keep him from doing aught that out- ws him.” “T hope so; but I fear he is a stern, resolute mar who will follow the bent of his own humor; now, las night, after he came on shore to see us, he suddenly made up his mind to put to sea this morning, and or- dered Enoch aboard at sunrise."’ ; ‘Did he say when he would return?” “In about two months, he thought.” “One question more, Lulu; did he again press his suit with you?” | “ The maiden’s face flushed, but she answered frankly: ‘He did.” “And you answered?” “That I was sorry to unhappy to gc against the dying wish of my father, but I could not marry him.”’ : ‘**T suppose he was very angry ?”’ ; ‘*Oh, no; on the contrary, he seemed only deeply hurt, and said he hoped that I would be happy with—” : “With who, Lulu?” as the maiden paused. “ With—I use his words, Wayne: ‘the man who had taken from him his inheritance and the woman that should have been his wife.’ The pale face of Wayne Meredith flushed crimson, but he made no other reply than to say: “Tf I prove unworthy sorry that the assassin’s knife did heart.”’ » y While this conversation was going on in the Sea View Cottage, the schooner, now known as the Sea not find my Wolf, was standing out into the broad bosom of the Atlantic under easy canvas. Leaning over the taffrail gazing wistfully at the re- ores, was Enoch Blanchard, looking ex- ceedingly handsome in his stylish uniform of third officer, or lieutenant, as Cap Eustace called hig officers. As the white in the distance, his commander fastened upon him. “Well, Lieutenant Blanchard, you have had yout rr pmtone home, so now I suppose you are ready or duty?” The tone and manner were stern, and very differ- ent from the usual style of Captain Eustace in ad- dressing him; but Enoch supposed ’ of the ship to hold no intimacy with under ofiicers, and he promptly answered: ‘“*T am at your service, sir.”’ “Very well, in half an hour relieve eons of the cottage faded away Milroy as officer your brethor met Lieutenant Talmad Enoch bowed to the the question: y h; still I wish Enoch had not ‘**T would prefer to have him with me in the re; - - ain him,and it made me ] to say: De our love Shane: T will be 10ch turned and found the eyes of that it was a rule e ” : {ntroduction, and replied to (
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_— io “Yes, sir; I met Lieutenant Talmadge when I first came on board,’ and he glanced into the faces of the two officers, and at once made up his mind that he did not like them—they were.young men, both of them, yet upon the faces of eath rested a look of recklessness and dissipation that was not prepos- sessing. Still they might be brave and skillful officers, he thought, and he wisely determined to keep his dis- likes to himself. Glancing over the crew, a half-hundred in num- ber, noch failed to recognize a single face that had sailed with bis father, and thinking it strange he so ‘remarked to his commander, Oliver Eustace frowned, but replied shortly: “Those were peace sailors—these I have now are for hot work at the cannon’s mouth,” ‘There were some on the schooner who had sailed with my father for many years, and braver men never lived than they were.” “T am the best judge of my own crew, Lieutenant Blanchard, and let me give you one piece of advice: if you don’t want trouble with your commander, do not question his acts.”’ Enoch’s face flushed; but he made no remark, and walking forward relieved Lieutenant Milroy as offi- cer of the deck, a post he was in every way capable to fill, thanks to his love of the sea and the instrue- tions his father had given him from almost his baby- ood. ** How shall I head, sir?’ asked Enoch, when the helmsman informed him he had gone to windward as far as he had been told. ** Due north, sir—my destination is Halifax, Nova Scotia; I wish to increase my crew there to a hun- dred men.”’ “That is an English port, sir,’’ said Enoch, in un- ised ris surprise. “Lieutenant Blanchard, I gave you a piece of advice a while since, and I now advise you to profit by it—my destination, sir, is Halifax—my intention, to run the American privateer, Sea Wolf, into the lish port of Halifax; do you understand?” **T do, sir,’ and Enoch gave the order how to steer; but over him came a gr soe that all was not well in the schooner—the strange conduct of Oliver Eustace, the wild-looking crew, the reckless- a 7 ams young officers, struck him as being far a erent from what his father would have chosen, and now the startling determination of his com- mander to take an American vessel into an English sort—all these circumstances set the youth to think- ng, and he made up his mind, come what might, he would not be caught napping. As he glanced forward, his eyes fell upon a face that made him start—it was that of the midnight visitor to Sea View Cot the man who hai at- tempted the life of Wayne Meredith. There he now stood among the crew, his tarpaulin pulled down over the cut on his forehead. Surprised, and determined once more to question his captain, Enoch walked to the cabin companion- way. Santain Eustace!" * Ay, ay, sir!’ came in blunt tones, ‘ig The seaman who attempted to assassinate Lieu- tenant yo and whom you ordered in irons, is free on deck,” ‘**T know it, sir. I ordered him released for duty.”’ Enoch turned away without a word, and his grow- ing suspicions were greatly increased. Either Oliver Eustace was playing some bold game, or he was a very different man on the deck of his vessel than what he was on shore. ** He was a true friend to my father, and I have no right to doubt him. But what does it all mean?" and the puzzled youth paced the deck, a cloud upon his young brow. CHAPTER XU. UNDER TWO FLAGS, a few days after, heading on her course north ined boot the Sea-Wolf came off Sambro Light ust at break of dawn one morning, and Enoch, who eld the deck, observed a large vessel-of-war lying to, not a league from the schooner, The vessel was a ship-of-the-line, had the wind of the schooner, had displayed no lights, and, seeming- ly, wea lying in wait for some craft that might run une into her vicinity, as had the Sea-Wolf. With the shore upon her larboard-quarter, and the vessel-of-war to seaward, the schooner was in a pre- carious situation, if the huge ship to windward should prove to be an enemy, The hull and rig of the stranger were American, but then it might be English; and Enoch at once squared away dead before the wind at first sight of the stranger, determined to run close in shore, and, if he could not get to sea, find some inlet to hide in where the ship dare not follow. The schooner had dashed along some five minutes on her new course ere she was discovered by those on the ship, and then men were seen running into the rigging, the sails were let fall, and the bows of the stranger soon swung round in pursuit, while a shot was fired at the flying craft, the ball whizzing above the deck. ; “That fellow looks American; but we must find out ere we trust him too far. Run up the flag, Lieu- tenant Blanchard,” said Oliver Eustace, who just then came upon deck. The Stars and Stripes at once fluttered from the peak of the Sea Wolf, and immediately after the h showed the same colors, at the same time sig: ghername. — ‘ft is the Constitution, 44 guns, Captain Isaac Hull—put the schooner about and head for the ship, Lieutenant Blanchard.” * Ay, ay, sir,’’ and Enoch at once obeyed the order, and in half an hour rounded to under the stern of | * Never, the Constitution, “Go aboard, Lieutenant Blanchard, and make known to Captain Hull who and what we are, and that we are off Halifax, hoping for a prize; ask him if he has any orders,” said Captain Eustace, and calling away a boat, and attired in his best uniform, Enoch Blanchard rowed to the vessel which had al- ready won a proud name, and was destined to after- ward win a world-wide renown. He was ushered into the cabin by a lieutenant who met him at the gangway, and saluted politely Cap- tain Isaac Hull, who made a few inquiries regarding the schooner, spoke of the beauty of the vessel, and complimented the boy-officer who had boarded him, for his manliness in shipping in the service of his country. When Enoch left the Constitution it was witk a | oroud heart; but yet he was troubled in mind, for 1¢ felt that he should have made known to Captain Hull the strange conduct of his captain, and be what might the consequences to himself, at least have the satisfaction of having done his duty. As he stepped upon the schooner when he return- ed, Oliver Eustace met him: “Well, sir, did Halifax?” he asked, sternly. “T did not, sir; I said what you told me to say, but I regret now that I did not make known the strange intention you have of going into an enemy’s port.” Captain Eustace turned angrily upon his young | officer, but made no angry retort, as Enoch had ex- pected; he said, simply: ee directly for Halifax, Lieutenant Blanch- ard,”’ Enoch quietly gave the order, and before long the Sea Wolf received a shot from a vessel lying close in shore and flying the English colors, Oliver Eustace at once hoisted the meg of Great Britain, and headed os the harbor, the brig of war seeing this action evi nony holding no suspicion of his being an enemy, and letting him go on his course. Passing the mE with the British flag flying, and a salute, the Sea Wolf entered the harbor and stood close in shore to an bier po the beauty of the eee attracting considerable admiration from he crews of the different vessels at anchor around. “Lieutenant Milroy, call alongside my cutter, fully manned, and allow no one to leave the schoo- ner or come on board rm my absence,” said oizer Eustace, coming from the cabin in full-dress uniform. Entering his boat he rowed ashore, and landing, aa eared from sight as he trudged up the steep hillside. Late in the afternoon he returned, and there was a strange look upon his face. - Betare tk I t rty of friends tl supper for a dozen—I expect a party o: ends this evening; he will find stores in the boat alongside.” Without a word Enoch obeyed the order, but there was in his heart a strange doubt—what could all this mean? At sunset three boats came alongside the schooner, and a number of persons, several civilians, three or four army officers, and several naval officers, all in the British uniform, came on board, and were re- ceived at the gangway by Lieutenant Milroy and pr oa into the cabin where Captain Eustace await- ed them, Half an hour after the steward came to Enoch and said: ‘Captain Eustace sends his compliments to Lieu- tenant Blanchard, and begs to have him join him in the cabin.”’ Silently the youth shares, and when entering was motioned to a seat at the table by his.commander, and then priscntnd to the guests. Enoch bowed politely, while many turned an ad- mining glance upon his youthful, handsome face and elegant form; but his heart was troubled—what meant these English guests in an American schooner? It was a sumptuous repast, and the wine flowed peeely. with the separate courses: but at length Oli- ver Eustace arose, and filling his glass, said, in his deep, stern tones: “Gentlemen, I have to offer as a toast, the health of His Majesty, the King of Great Britan, and the success of the Army and Navy of England in the pre- sent war against America,” With a cheer all sprung to their feet, glasses in hand —all except one. That one was Enoch Blanchard: he remained seat- ed, his brow clouded, his lips compressed, his face white with indignation. “Lieutenant Blanchard, arise, sir,’ commanded Oliver Eustace, his eye resting upon the youth. “Tl not drink such a toast, sir—I respect our foes, and if they can conquer us, so let it be; but I am an American, and as such came on this schooner,” and with flashing eyes Enoch Blanchard arose to his feet and looked Bpon the assembled guests. ‘What doT hear? You refuse to drink the toast?” shouted Oliver Eustace. ‘‘T do, sir, and you dishonor yourself in offering it.”’ There was no mistaking the words or manner of Enoch Blanchard; he was in deadly earnest. ; * Lieutenant Blanchard, I command you to drink the toast I offer,” and Captain Eustace's voice trem- bled as he spoke. ** And I decline, sir,” as firmly said the y outh. “Mutiny, by Jove! gentlemen, I told you I held doubt of one of my officers; but he shall drink as I say,’’ and Oliver Eustace walked around the table and faced the youth. “Drink, sir, as I command you.” All was now breathless excitement; the guests, the two Privateer officers, and the servants looking on with deepest interest. ou say that we were bound into | Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. lanchard, bid the steward prepare | ———~ +o sir,’ and the eyes of Enoch Blanchard never quailed, “Boy, you are a fool.” Instantly Enoch turned upon the speaker: it was a major of Dragoons, a man of forty, and cressed in a superb uniform and with faultless linen. Quicker than a flash Enoch raised his glass of wine and dashed the contents full in the face of the ma- jor. The excitement was now at fever heat, and all cried out in surprise: but Enoch remained perfectly cool, glancing upon the half strangled major. = Milroy, put that boy in irons,” yelled Ccptain Eustace, savagely. ‘No, no,” cried half a dozen officers, who wished to see fair play. “If the young gentleman does not wish to drink the toast he has a right to decline,and Major McCarth- ney gave the first insult,’ said a genileman in the uniform of an English naval captain. * Yes, let him at least remain at liberty until he gives me satisfaction for this insult,” ‘cried the major, enraged almost beyond self-control. “Tam at your service, sir. I but resented your re- mark to me, and if Captain Eustace expects me to sail under two flags and be friendly to both, he will have to put me in irons for disobedience of orders,” said Enoch, calmly. ss MeCarthney, “ you wish to meet this boy?’ ask- ed Oliver Eustace, turning to the major. ‘* I do—he has insulted me grossly.” “He is a mere youth, Me arthney,’’ said the na- val captain, while several others cried: ‘For shame—he is but a boy.” “He is young in years, 1 admit; but he is every inch a man, and his rank as a lieutenant, weighs against his age,” said Oliver Eustace, who seemed to wish to urge on the affair. “Tf he was a child he should not insult me without punishment for it—if he is not afraid to face me I will call him out,” angrily said the major. “I do not fear you, sir; I seem to be alone here that is without a friend upon my own vessel, but—’ “No, sir, we will not let other than fair play be shown you; we are British officers, sir,” said an el- derly man, kindly. - *‘And I will serve as your friend,” returned the naval captain, stepping forward and offering his hand, which Enoch part with a look of gratitude, while he said calmly: “IT thank you, sir; then Major geen can let r his friend orange & meeting with you, sir, and [ sedee all in your hands,” and turning, Enoch left the cabin, CHAPTER XIV. THE DUEL BY MOONLIGHT. WHEN Enoch Blanchard walked on deck, out of the cabin where had just transpired such an exciting scene, he found the moon = in allits beauty, from the Atlantic, and casting a flood of silver lshe upon the sea and shore. ndward a thousand lights twinkled in the town, and in the harbor the v at anchor were dis- tinctly visible, while above the city. poe alofty hill, frowned a fort, the moonlight flas ing upon the guests musket as he turned in his monotonous Ww “ But the scene held little beauty for him, and he leant over the taffrail, gazing down into the dark waters, his brain whirling with conflicting emotions. “Oh, that I had made known my suspicions to Captain Hull this morning; the Constitution would have soon checked the career of this schooner, and she would not now be lying in an enemy’s port, “T have been betrayed by one whom I trusted; one whom I loved almost asa father. Who could have believed Oliver Eustace so base a man? “But I would not drink the toast he proposed; I would have pon in irons first, and if he had asked me againI should have resented it by throwing tle com of wine in his face, for whom f intend it, if 1¢ drove me to it; but Iam glad that English major turned it upon him, for I cared not to meet Oliver Eustace in deadly combat. No, no! he was kind to my father—he held my poor father when he breath: his last; but, oh! I must blame him for turning a traitor. Why did he not go with England, if such were his principles, and not turn traitor to those wiio trusted him? ‘Well, I must meet this irate major—and then? Will it be the Englishman or myself that falls? “Tf me, my poor mother and sister, I fear it v ill break their hearts, for fate has been unkind of late, _ and haunted our little home with shadows. ‘*But, whether I fall or live, I am in a tight place here, for enemies surround me.” At this moment the naval captain, who had offered his services as his friend, approached him: ‘*Mr, Blanchard, I have arranged with Major Mc- Carthney’s friend, Captain De Wees, and as it is a glorious night and unpleasant duties should not be postponed, we have agreed to meet to-night—nay, within the hour. We will row down the harbor io a nay place, and there you can have the matter set- ‘“*T thank you, sir. With what weapons, may I ask?” calmly said Eustace. ‘The pistol—have you a pair?” “Yes, sir; a very fine of dueling pistols: that belonged to my ndfather; in fact he fought seve- ral duels with them when he was an officer in the English a ‘“You are English, then?” , “Oh, no, sir; my grandfather settled in the cclo- nies, and served in the American havy during cur bead feed independence, and my father was born in n , “Can Lask if you know how the duels turned out
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= EL A LN ee The Boy Duelist, that your grandfather fought?’ asked Captain Re- velle, with some interest. “He was successful in three affairs.”’ “ That is, killed his man?” “Yes, sir. In those days, you know, dueling was jan everyday affair. “True; and those were all that he fought?” * No, sir; he fought a fourth duel in which he lost 4yis life. His opponent, a British officer, fired before he word; and, by the way, bis name was McCarth- ae 499 ‘“ Seg 4 Neptune! You are right, I remember | having heard of the affair—it occurred in Jamaica, mad the MeCarthney who killed your grandfather was the father of the one you are to meet. This is a ttrange coincidence.”’ “Tt is indeed, sir; and I have an opportunity of avenging my grandfather, who'was not slain fairly.” “True: McUarthney was much censured for Tis action; but where are your pistols?” ea went into the cabin and soon returned with them. “Here they are, sir. This is the one my grand- father always used, and he had it in his hand when he was killed.” ‘* Which will you use?” “The same weapon; and I have written my mo- ther a short note which, if I fall, I trust to your kindness, sir, to send to her; it contains nothing con- traband,”’ and Enoch gave the letter to the kind- hearted Englishman, who said, warmly: “*T will see that she gets it if you fall; but I doubt if you do, for you seem to have an iron nerve; but, McCarthney is a crack shot and a good swordsman, and rather relishes an affair of this kind—in fact, he has made himself quite unpopular by his anxiety to fight almost without provocation, and American though you are, few Englishmen would blame you if you killed him. * Keep your eye on him; fire at the word, and aim at his head, if you are a crack shot; if not, aim at his body. Now, are you ready?” Tam, sir,’ Captain Revelle entered the cabin, and, in ten min- utes more, the boats were called alongside, and the whole party embarked, many of them elated by the wine they had drank. A row of half an hour brought them to a wooded point upon which they landed, and Captain Revelle and the second of Major McCarthney step off the distance, placed their principals, and loaded the pis- fols, those of Enoch Blanchard having been chosen. Major MeCarthney had not recovered his equanim- ity at having been so ill-treated by one whom he called a “‘ Yankee boy,” and he took his stand with the determination to kill him. “Tf he were one of ourselves, young as he is, I would but wing him; but a d—d Yankee, I will do my country a service by killing him,’’ he said to his second, and in a tone loud enough for Enoch to hear. Enoch uietly took his stand, gras d warmly the proffered hand of Captain Revelle, who whispered: “Fire at his head, and fire at the word; don’t let him get the first shot at you. You are as cool as an iceberg, and it disconcerts him.” Then Captain Revelle took his position to one side, and the moonlight streamed down upon the strange scene, lighting up the faces of each one there, and snowing the admiration that many felt for the splen- did pluck of the youth. At one side stood Oliver Eustace, his face pale, stern, and with a look upon it that Enoch, who glanced at him, could not fathom, ** Gentlemen, are you ready?” The voice of Captain De Wees broke the death- like silence. Be Ready,” said both men together. “Fire!” Ere more could be said, and with the sound of the word on his lips still, the pistols flashed, the weapon of Enoch’s half-a-second in advance of his adver- sary’s, yet so close together as to almost sound like cne report, p Like a log Major McCarthney fell in his tracks, stone dead; the bullet had passed through his brain, The half-second’s start Enoch had of his foe had saved his life, for it had deranged the aim of the major, whose bullet whistled by the youth’s head, not missin ita poere, of = inch. De 'W, 8 Spellbound, as Captain De Wees sprun, forward, and cried: ss a ‘** He is dead!” Enoch turned sadly he He had not sought the quarrel, and he cared not to have the life of a fellow- being upon his hands. But when insulted he had re- sented it, and when challenged he had facéd the al- ternative without dread, Captain Revelle stepped forward and offered his hand, saying in a low tone: ““No veteran ever behaved better than you did: you have avenged your grandfather, and have slain @ most dangerous man.’ Others also came forward and spoke Rindly to the Same and the body of Major McCarthney havin , been borne to the boat, the party started upon their return to the schooner, for they accepted Captain Eustace’s invitation to stop and have a glass of wine with him. As Enoch stepped on deck his commander turned to him and said, sternly: . ‘7 shall offer the same toast, sir. Will you still cefuse to drink it?” ‘“* Assuredly, sir.’ - “Lieutenant Milroy, place this fellow in irons,” and Oliver Eustace went below, followed by his guests, one of whom stopped and said to Enoch: “My young friend, your commander seems to have an unfortunate grudge against you, and I advise you to leave his vessel as soon as you can: when his anger blows over he will doubtless release you; but if you need a friend do not hesitate to call upon me —my name is Sir Vincent Revelle, and I command yonder schooner of war, the St. Lawrence, aboard which I can offer you the berth of midshipman.” ‘*T thank you sincerely, Captain Revelle, but I will never serve against my country, sir. Good-by, sir, and I hope we may meet again,’’ and Enoch Blan- chard turned toward Lieutenant Milroy, who ap- proached with the irons in his hands, Holding out his arms without a word, but with trembling lip, he submitted quietly to the disgrace inflicted upon him by Oliver Eustace, and was led below, while Sir Vincent Revelle, with an angr brow, went over the side of the schooner tanto his own boat waiting alongside, and rowed to his vessel without a word of farewell to his host. “Tf he looks upon it as an insult, I am perfectly willing he shall: the boy has been badly treated for some cause or other, and he is a noble fellow and will make his mark yet in the service of his country ;” and so saying Captain Revelle boarded his own beau- tiful vessel, CHAPTER XV. A SECRET MISSION. Ir was late in the night when Enoch Blanchard at last lost consciousness in slumber, He had heard the clinking of glasses in the cabin, loud voices in conversation, and his own name mentioned in tones certainly not uncomplimentary, and then had fol- lowed voices in song, and then the departure of the ests. o Then he expected a visit from Oliver Eustace, and he determined to tell him exactly what he thought of his conduct; but in this he was mistaken, for the privateer captain sought his couch after the depart- ure of his guests, one of whom was thenin death's last sleep ashore, whither his second had taken him, instead of sige es on board the schooner. At last was it that Enoch dropped off to sleep, and when he awoke he knew by the motion of the vessel that he was at sea, and that the schooner was run- ning along at a lively pace. It was broad daylight, and he glanced at his watch and found that it was nine o'clock, “We have left Halifax, that is certain, and are in the open sea. I wonder what cruise of devilment Oliver Eustace is bound on now," muttered the youth, and as if in answer to his question, a sailor appeared before him. I am ordered to lead you to the cabin, sir.”’ Without a word Enoch arose and followed him, walking with difficulty with the irons upon him, Oliver Eustace was seated in an easy-chair smok- Hg git as the youth entered he arose and approach- m. “You can leave, sir,’ he said to the sailor, and turning to Enoch he unlocked the irons, cast them aside, and said in a subdued tone: * Be seated, Enoch, and listen to an explanation I have to make, and you will pardon me, I know, for the part I have played against you.” **T am listening, sir,’’ sternly said the youth. “You are angry with me, and I do not wonder at it; but hear my explanation. “In commanding a vessel of this kind, one has to know those under him, and from the day I sailed frove the cove of Sea View Cottage, I have been play- ing a part and studying those under me, in temper and in character. } “Tam a bold man, Enoch, and have been playing a bold game, as you will know, for I ran‘into Hali- fax, went on shore and reported myself to the Brit- ish admiral, and told him that I was an Englishman by birth, as I really am, carried him letters from premiers countrymen of his in Boston, and made nown thatI had armed and equipped the Sea Wolf at the expense of Americans, to run her out and then cruise against the vessels of the United States, for which I asked for a commission as a British privateer. “Of course he gave it to me, and officers whom I met ashore : invited on board the Sea Wolf to have supper with me. elieving me an Englishman I had, of course, to act as such, and the more to carry out my part, I ave the toast, which I knew you would not drink, hat I might have trouble with you and arrest you; but that fellow, McCarthney, had to interfere; and a finished him splendidly—I never saw more nerve han you showed.” “But what motive had you, sir, in all this?’ quiet- ly asked Enoch. y **T will tell you. I know all about the expected movements of English merchant vessels, and the stations of the British cruisers, which I can make known to the American naval officers, besides gain- ing a great advantage myself; also, with a commis- sion as an English i er I can avoid capture by our enemies should we get into a tight place. Now you know all, and I humbly ask your forgiveness for my unkind treatment to you.” ‘It is granted, Captain Eustace,and the unkind- ness forgotten—here is my hand on it.” Oliver Eustace grasped the outstretched hand, and said; “Now you must return to duty, and woe to the man who offers you a slight because I placed you under arrest. And, Enoch, I have a secret duty I wish you to perform for I would rather intrust it to you than to either of the other officers.” ‘Tam at your service, sir.” **T know it: now we will have breakfast, and then I will tell you of it.” The captain and his youthful lieutenant then sat down to their morning meal, and when the dishes were cleared away, Oliver Eustace said: ‘““We are now off Cape Sable, and heading south, and it is my intention to run close into the Maine coast and land you on a special mission, whichI wish you to attend to for me,” 9 TRAST i San A a AT NT “T will do all that I can, Captain Eustace.” “T know it, my boy, and you are the very one to in- trust with the duty, for you are far in advance of your years in expexience, and brave to recklessness. ‘Now at the point I land you is a band of men who are nominally fishermen: but in reality they are smugglers, and really little better than pirates and wreckers, for they would capture a vessel of any na- tion, if they could do so, and have lured with lights upon the rocks, a number of crafts to destruction, **Now this I well know, having myself gone ashore there in a schooner, some years ago, mistaking their false lights for a true one, and our cargo fell into their hands, J saving my life, with several others, by joining their band, from which I afterward escaped, ‘*Now it is my intention to attack their place of re- fuge, and for that reason I wish you to go there as @ spy. Px In the first place you go in an open boat, pretend- ing that your vessel went down at sea, and yourself and several of your comrades were left adrift in a yawl, and they dying of starvation and thirst you alone survived them, and you must play weak and sick. **T will set you adrift at night so that the tide will bear you right upon their island, and once there you must join the band, and seem as evilas any of them. ‘In this way you can gain their confidence, and discover their exact number, how many boats they have, where their booty is secreted, and then be in readiness to make your escape, for I will return for you in four weeks, “ Also Jearn the channel to the island thoroughly, so that you can run the schooner in at night, and after the fourth week repair every night between, midnight and two o’clock to the sea end of the island, where you will find a wild and rocky coast. ‘One large rock, has a clump of rugged pines rowing on the summit and here you must arrange :. signal me, for I shall be off the coast within four weeks, or as soon after as I can, so keep a bright watch for me every night after that time, between the hours named, and when you see a vessel, a league out, burning three lights, one above the other, red white and blue, attached to the fore cross-trees, answer by showing the same signals on the rock, for the aay will prevent them from being seen from the island. ** As soon as I see your response I will answer b taking the blue light from the bottom and putting it on top, and the red one in its place, and then you will know that it is the schooner and must come out to us at once, for in some way you must get a boat; then you can pilot us in, and the island with its booty and prisoners will be ours; now, do you under- stand?” “ Perfectly, sir.”’ * And will go?” “ Certainly, sir.” ‘“Then let us again talk over our plans,’’ and fou a long time Captain Eustace and his young lieutenant held converse coger upon the dangerous mission that Enoch was to undertake, and which he was onl too willing to do, as he was anxious to serve his country by aiding so materially in breaking up the desperate band of smugglers. CHAPTER XVI. THE SMUGGLERS’ ISLE, A ¥ew nights after the conversation of Oliver Eustace and Enoch Blancuard in the Sea Wolf's cabin, a schooner stood close in toward the coast of Maine, about an hour before dawn, and then sud- denly put about and headed seaward under a cloud of canvas. The object of this strange maneuver was evident, when upon the dark waters was visible a small boat, containing but a single occupant. Borne by the inflowing tide, the little yawl moved shoreward, and after an hour was near a rocky and forbidding coast, as seen by the light of Gay: for the east was growing rosy with the coming of the sun. Far out upon the sea, as the occupant cast his eyes astern, was visible the schooner that had left him alone upon the waters, still standing oceanward, and ahead of him was the island-guarded, rock-bound coast, The solitary soomnee in the boat was a youth of seventeen—in fact, in him, in spite of his disguise as a poor sailor and pale face, that had a suspicious look of being painted white, the reader could not fail to recognize Enoch Blanchard, and the dangerous duty he had undertaken is already known, In the boat was a small leg-of-mutton sail, a short mast, two pairs of oars, and some few other things that one would think had been seized hastily from a sinking ship. As he drew nearer the island, Enoch searched the shores narrowly, and discovered the huge rock, with its summit crowned by the clump of pine_bushes, and other points which had been described to hin by Oliver Eustace, Finding that the current was carrying him direct] upon the rocky shore, Enoch seized his oars an pone hard against the tide, for he felt his cag | ut he was in an irresistible current that drew at on in spite of himself, and directly toward a rec over which the water boiled with fury. A fearless swimmer, he thought he would a antl overboard and endeavor to elude the reef and lan elsewhere; but he saw that he would be dashed upoy s he rocks and killed, so calmly awaited his fate in the oat, It soon came, for the mad waters hurried his litt] craft on, forced it into the seething caldron, an hurled it upon the ragged reef, smashing it into at oms, Though almost stunned by the shock, Enoch struck boldly out to struggle for life, and aftera desperate effort cleared the rocks, and in a few moments mora
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10 Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. landed upon the island, tired out, bruised and bleed- ing from a dozen cuts, e had barely strength enough left to drag him- self up to a place of safety beyond high tide mark, and then dropped down almost insensible. “Well you are a lucky dog; I never knew any other man to strike the sea side of this island and live,” said a rough voice, and glancing up with an effort, Enoch beheld before him a man, dressed in half- sailor, half-citizen attire, and with a face not at all prepossessing. ** What did you come here for, anyway; and where does you hail from?’ continued the man, as Enoch made no reply to his first remark. “T am, as you see, wrecked; I was adrift at sea, and endeavored to land on the island,” said the youth, with an effort. i * And d——d if you didn’t do it, too; but come, this } island is private property, and you must go with me ‘oa : and see the boss—maybe you'll find out that you’d better drowned than come here; can you walk?” “Tl try to if you only wait until I am rested.” “Tll wait; business ain’t very brisk with me just \ now,’ and the man quietly sat down on a rock by the side of Enoch, who regarded him curiously, but was not at all taken aback at his words, as he was led by what Oliver Eustace had told him to suppose he had to face great dangers, ; Ina short while he signified his readiness to go, |} and with the aid of his rough-looking companion | managed to pull himself up the hill, and then along ‘ arocky pathway to the interior of the island, where, _ upon the banks of a stream, or rather channel, that f ran through the isle, were a dozen rude huts, or ' shanties, more properly speaking, 5 A score of men, as rough-looking as Enoch’s guide, were moving about, building fires and preparing to : cook the morning meal, while a dozen boats, of all f descriptions, from the light skiff to the large yawl, mt were hauled ap on the shore, and in the inlet were visible, securely moored on account of the erone | tide, that dashed like a mill-race through the island, : half a dozen sailing crafts, from the cat-rig boat to Rcd the schooner of fifty tons. p : he eof Approaching one of the huts, in the door of which Am sat a tall, slender man, better dressed than his com- panions, and with an air of gentility about him, the guide said: “ Cap’en, I’ve fetched you a feller as came ashore on the sea-end, an’ durned ef he didn’t make it ona swim arter his boat was knocked to splinters.”’ The man took the pipe he was smoking from his t , mouth and glanced fixedly at the youth for a mo- i ment, and then said: FY) You seem worsted by your shipwreck; sit down f | there,” and he pointed to a rude chair, into which — Enoch gladly sunk, Then turning his head into the hut, the captain called out: perder | ad Here, Buck, give this young man a glass of ie brandy.’ A negro lad came out of the hut in obedience to the order, and handed the youth a cup nearly full of brandy, which he took and drank with a relish, as ied" he sadly needed a stimulant. cm “Now, sir, I suppose you have a story to tell me et of how you were cast adrift in a boat, with a few ‘ companions; all of whom are dead but you, and that a you are willl x to join our band, and become like us, Ea, outlaws, Souggiers or anything else that is wicked,’ "aah and the captain miled, as he fastened his gaze upon " Enoch, who was startled, for the man seemed to read Get: his very thoughts. 7. **But, young sir, the one who sent you here should 38 have told you not to approach the 'sea-end of this E island, for that is a perfect caldron with the sea running in or out, and at slack water it is devilish risky to land there; but as you made the landing, I am convinced that you were not born to be drowned , —you were reserved | for a higher end, hanging.” bs f *I do not understand you, sir; I was wrecked upon your island, and you threaten my life. Why is it?” Boy calmly asked Enoch. ba. “Let us understand each other; you came here to h peeray us to our enemies. Do you deny it?” +: Suffering from his cuts and bruises, and now qi thoroughly reckless, Enoch returned, tersely: g “T deny nothing. ° Now, you came from one Oliver Eustace, sor “Good! at present the commander of the Sea Wolf, a priva- > ? . r. P z - Enoch was astounded. Could this remarkable man ae read his thoughts? ” { 5, How had he gained this knowledge, which he be- lieved that only himself and Captain Eustace knew? é Puzzled greatly, he replied: a) Ne “There is little use of my saying anything, as you <, — to draw your own conclusions as to my coming te re.’ oF a “Boy, I know all that you would tell me; you tee would have done well never to have come to this ce smugglers’ island, for, in so doing, you sealed your tes. doom, You must die!” and so say ng the smuggler ie a- captain turned away, leaving Enoch a prey to the 3 ae most painful thoughts, eh |) : CHAPTER XVII. 3 a THE SMUGGLER’S STORY. I For several Saye after his interview with the ae smuggler captain, Enoch lay a prisoner in the island _| . -, “lock-up,” his meals brought him by the negro lad, be. ia the youth. _ As for the negro, Enoch could nat sot ies to open his lips upon any subject. He seemed deaf to all in- ' quiries, and would have been believed dumb, had he ‘not been heard singin loudly when about his work. , At length, Enoch felt well’ enough to look about _ him for some means of escape; he was among des” peed men, and their captain had plainly told him e must die, so he was determined to get away, if he could, at any risk. One day, as he sat in his prison, trying to concoct some plan, the door opened, and the captain crossed the threshold. ‘Well, sir, are you well enough to suffer your doom?” he asked, sternly. “The better a man’s health is the more he hates to die,”’ answered the youth, quietly, “You are game, at any rate, and it is a pity to have to kill you.” “What have I done to merit death at your hands?” “ Nothing; only our band is bound together with pledges that it is death to violate, and one of our number has decreed that you must die; and it is our duty to execute his wish.’ “A strange compact this, where one man governs the majority.” ‘““Yes; but any one of us holds the same power— for instance, if you were my enemy and I was ab- sent from this island, and in some way sent you here to get rid of you, those here at the rendezvous, even though there was but one, would be bound to take your life to keep his oath to the members of the compact.” “And has ore of your number decreed that I must die?” asked Enoch, with sudden interest and surprise. * Assuredly; otherwise you would have been treat- ed as other men, shipwrecked on this island, have been treated.” ‘* How is that?’ ** Been allowed to join the band.” ** And if I refused?” “Death would have been the penalty. You must see that we lead a lawless life here; our island is the depot of smuggled goods between the British posses- sions and the United States, and in carrying on our trade, we are frequently compelled to lay violent hands upon life and property, and the result is we run our heads into the hangman’s noose, and can, of course, adow no traitors in our camp; hence, our se- vere laws.” “Now I have belonged to this band for ten years, and for five months I have been its leader, for each member becomes its chief in turn, holding the office for six months: in another month I give way to another, and so on, and this law prevents any one man from putting on airs, as when he drops back into the ranks one whom he has injured, when he becomes chief, may punish him,” “You see that I talk plainly to you; but as you die to-morrow, there can be no harm, so I entertain you all I can.” “Tt is kind of you: I have heard your laws were strict in the extreme—that is, the laws of the coast smugglers—and they certainly conceal their retreats well, as for years there was a cavern rendezvous within a few miles of my home, and if one of their number had not betrayed his comrades, they might have been there yet.”’ “ How long ago was that, young man?” “Nearly two years: it was on the coast not very far from Boston.” ‘* Yes, I have been there: it was Dirk Douglass who betrayed us, for that party were of our band, and they were to have come here, had they not been cap- tured. You say you live near their old retreat?” “Yes; I was born within a few miles of it.” “Your name, boy?”’ **Fnoeh Blanchard.” “Great Heaven! Are you a son of Captain Martin Blanchard?” asked the man, excitedly. anaes but my father is dead,’’ sadly said the outh. wen Dead: poor Captain Blanchard; boy, I knew your father well—ay, and when you were a lad of five years, I have taken you up to the mast-head with me time and again, ‘*Your father sailed on the bark Cyclops then, and I was his third-mate; but I fell from grace after- ward. I loved liquor, and it caused me to take life one day without provocation, and I was thrown in rison in a foreign port and sentenced to be shot; Put your father saved my life, by coming into prison to see me, with a couple of his crew, and he made me take his place and walk out, and I was saved. “Then he called to the jailer, told him of my es- cape and offered to sail that night and carry him with him, if he would go. ~ “The Monte Videan knew it was death to remain, after the escape of his prisoner, and consented: thus we all got away, and though a ¢ r was sent after the Cyclops, they never caught us. “Of course I could not return in the vessel to America, fearing arrest, so I left the ship at Havana, and gradually drifted home, arriving in Boston a beggar and a vagabond. “Well, the first person I met was your mother; she was shopping on Washington street with a lady friend, and she recognized me and gave me her purse, which had considerable gold in it; but I threw it away in drink, and then joined this band of smug- glers, several of whom I accidentally saved—and you are the son of Martin Blanchard?” The smuggler rien Enoch’s hand warmly, and the youth replied: “And you are West Rankin—I remember you now; we were great friends when I was a little e. “Yes, I am West Rankin, and we shall be great friends now;” and looking cautiously around him, he continued: “Boy, if I was ten thousand times pledged, I would not raise hand against you—you shall leave this’ island to-night; but you must make me one ow. ‘ ‘Name it, ” “Never to betray aught I have said to you about this band.” ‘“‘T swear it, by my father’s memory.” ‘“Knough, boy; you come of too true stock to ever tell a lie—you shall leave here this night, and with gold enough to see you through.” **T thank you from my heart; now, I beg that you answer me one question.” ‘Tf possible, I will.” ‘““Who was the one member of your band who wished me killed?” ‘**T will tell you; now, he is only an honorary mem- ber, for when any man can do better away, we let him go; but he is still held by our laws, and almost invariably, after a few years, he is sure to return worse off than when he left; the one who is your bitter enemy was wrecked off this coast years ago, on willingly joined our band, for we saved his e. “Two years ago he left it, and has since been doing well, as he made a successful cruise, and wrote: me a few weeks ago that he was the commander of @ fine little vessel. ‘Tt was in that letter that he said he would send to: the isl@#id one who was his enemy—one he wished slain—and that he would send him in a boat on the: sea end of the isle, and if not killed on the rocks, - ad we must put him to death, for he wished you te e. “Last night we saw the schooner come near in shore, and then stand seaward, and the signah agreed upon in our member’s letter was displayed, and we knew that you had been shipped to your doom; but with the tide running in as it did, we never expected to see you alive.” Enoch Blanchard was sa hig ds moved by all, he heard; now he could no longer doubt, and conquer- ing his feelings, he told West Rankin the history of his life, and of the strange behavior of the man whom all at Sea View Cottage had so completely trusted. ‘Enoch, there is some dark mystery at the foot of all this; now, I must leave you, but to-night I will re- turn and aid you to escape; once free from here, my advice is to place your mother and sister out of harm's way, and then, with power enough to do our work well, hunt down Oliver Eustace, and if he s proven guilty of treachery to you, visit your ven- geance upon him.” Without another word the smuggler captain left the hut, and Enoch Blanchard was alone with his. own ss eae which, as the reader may infer, were none of the pleasantest kind. CHAPTER XVIII. * UNMASKED, True to his word, West Rankin entered the cabin _ pl alge cp Blanchard was a prisoner, just at ten o'clock, On the island but two guards were kept on duty at a time—one on a high hill that commanded the apercem by sea and shore, for the mainland was. about a league distant, and the other in the imme- diate camp, who watched the prisoners in the lock- up, and called the other guards at the proper hour. The prison- enin which Enoch was confined was. a small hut built of large logs, unhewn, and was. about ten feet square; it had two holes for win- .- dows, and one stout door opening toward the camp. ; Tonk before Captain Rankin put in an appearance, Enoch had heard the smugglers making joily over a supper washed down with liquor, and then followed a long silence. “Well, Enoch, my boy, the boys are all drunk for I gave them a treat in honor of my birthday; not shat itis within five months of that e, but then I said it was for the occasion, and here I am to free you, for the fellows would have the guards in, and so we have nothing to fear—come.” Opening the door he led the way out, and down to the channel that ran through the island,” ‘Here is a little craft that is as stiff as a church steeple in a blow; it is, as you see, sloop-rigged, and will earry you well. “T have already stowed its locker with provisions for ten days, a cask of water, a musket, pistol and knife, and that roll on the seat contains clothing and wraps, so you are fixed; get in.”’ ; Enoch silently obeyed, and the smuggler followed him, having cast loose the painter; then the little craft was seized by the outflowing tide, and borne swiftly down the channel, when, after the distance of half a mile, it came to the border of the island. Turning the sloop in shore with his oar, the smug- Slor sprung out, and held his hand forth toward the outh. : at . ‘*Enoch, my boy, good-by; and don’t think un- kindly of me.” “T fear you will get into trouble about this,” said the youth. ; “NotI; the boys are dead drunk, for I drugged the liquor, and Iwill cover up my tracks well; there will be no one to blame; but, boy, the sight of you has done my heart good, and set me to thinking, and Iam determined to cut the life I lead, and try and become honest, for I was born to betterluck, and in England have a mother and sisters, “As I am English, I, will go with my countrymen, and when I next run down to Halifax willlookupa berth upon one of His Majesty’s cruisers; but I won't detain you, Enoch; there is your compas:, and by it a dark lantern already lighted—stand due south from here for a league, and then you'll clear - the reefs and small islands; then head due east until you get an offing, and you ‘have a fair breeze along shore—good-by.” iF ; The youth wrung the hand of the kind-hearted smuggler, and hoisted his jib and mainsail. which = were immediately filled by the four-knot brecz:, and
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v - away dashed the little sloop, leaving West Rankin standing alone gre the island shore, Following the directions of his old friend, Enoch soon gained an offing, and putting his little vessel before the wind, headed along the coast, determined to make Portland. ° With early dawn he found that West Rankin had well supplied him with provisions and clothing, and a leatueri purse, in the center of the bundle, contain- ed halt a hundred dollars in gold. : In good time Enoch arrived in Portland, just at sunset, and landing under the shadow of the old fort, he sprung ashore, one of two seamen standing there making his painter fast, “You are captain, mate and crew of your craft, young man,”’ said the other seaman, pleasantly, turn- ing upon the youth. : ‘Yes, and the whole eee wish. to sell out the stock in the sloop; do you want to buy?” an- swered Enoch in the same tone. “Blast my eyes! if you ain’t Enoch Blanchard, may I go to Davy Jones with my boots on.” The youth quickly turned upon the speaker—the man who had ‘kindly made his boat fast—and a glad look came into his face, and his hand was out- stretched at once. : ** Gil Saunders, as I live.” “I’m that same boy, Master Enoch, who sailed with your father many a long viage, and nussed you when you was a leetle babby; but—” and the man’s face changed color, his brow darkened, and he continued in a hoarse tone: ‘**T guesses I’d best not let my tongue slip the cable about the old man; it’s bad enough for you to know he’s dead, ‘ithout tellin’ you how he died.” Enoch Blanchard was struck by the tone and man- ner of the man; he knew that he had sailed on the Light-Wing the last cruise his father had made, and he put the question directly to him: “Gil Saunders, what know you of my father’s death?” > , “T’'m a durned fool; if I cud I'd git ahind myself and kick the dust out o’ the seat o’ my trowsers with my foot—durn me.” ‘This is no answer to my question: what know you of my father’s death?” “You've got among the breakers, =f so you’d better beat out as best you can,”’ said the other man. Gil Saunders looked from one to the other of the ve eee him, a curious look upon his face; then e said: “T knows all about it, Master Enoch.” ‘Then I demand that you tell me all you know. How did my father die?” “He was p’isoned,”’ whispered the seaman. . “Poisoned! Oh, God, no! and by whom? or was it an accident?” “Nary accident; it were done on “Who did this foul deed?”’ and trembled violently. “TI guesses I mout as well tell ye, Master Enoch, seein’ as, he went back on me, as he did do, for you see I was to be bo’sen of the skunner when she were made into a privateer; but blast my eyes ef he didu’t send me off on a tomfool cruise to look up smug- lers, and then put te sea; if it hadn’t been for t Shipmate here, who read me ther news o’ ther sailin’ of ther skunner, armed an’ manned, I'd been lookin’ for smugglers yit; but you see I fi too much gro; aboard, spent all my money, and lay to here unt this shipmate run across my bows, and he giv me a lift, and we've bin cruisin’ in company ever since; but our lockers is gettin’ mighty low.” “Gil Saunders, it is a lucky thing for you that you did get drunk; I was sent to hunt up those very smugglers, and I found them. eieas sent there to die, and by none other than him whom my father trusted—Oliver Eustace.” ** Oliver Hustace |” } It was the companion of Gil Saunders who uttered the name. : “Yes; do you know aught of him?” . * “Ts he alive?” _ “He is; I left him two weeks since, the commander of the schooner Sea Wolf.”’ “Great Heaven! how strange all this is; I believed that man dead—nay, had I met him face to face, I would not have believed my own eyes,’’ said the strange seaman, excitedly. “Do you know aught of that man?” again asked Enoch, | “ Ay, do I; I met him, asI met Gil here, and did him a good turn, and he told me a sad story of how he had been cheated of his inheritance; his father had died, he said, believing him dead, and had willed ‘operty to designing kinsmen, ”. urpuss."’ noch Blanchard his pr ) am on th Sorry for him, I entered into a plan to go with him—I am going to tell the truth now, shipmates, even if I get into trouble by it.” “Go on; what you tell meI will keep sacredly,” said Enoch, ) : “Well, I entered into a plan to go with him down thec anchor off his old home, and let him get what gold he could from his evil kinsman, he telling me he could do it without peste Godt a ek very correct in my morals, seeing no harm in his ng that which was his’ own, and which he had been f. oneal. alga to the old place on the coast—now nearly two years ago, and we got considerable gold sand silver plate; but we were discovered, and Oliver Eustace shot down one of the men who came upon 4 oe. nt nee other seized me, and to escape, now that bot bh had been sifed, I fired upon my assailant, and we got to our vessel, a little sloop that belonged to me. ; : , “Not getting all that he had expected, and per- fectly reckless, Br pcrnpanion urged that I should ie AEE ES IS STN Ss ee ENS AE ALT LE IT Meee eon a Poe Ts 2 _ The Boy Duelist. put inshore and that we should rob the house of an | old sea captain that lived near the coast, and who, Eustace said, always kept his money in his house. **But I had had enough for one night; I was dis- tressed at the turn affairs had taken, and I refused. ‘In a frenzy he attacked me, and after a desperate struggle I hurled him overboard, and as soon as I could get up, sailed away believing him dead; now you tell me that he lives?” “Yes, J saved his life; I was running home, from town, in my little sloop, heard: a hail in the water and picked him up, so nearly dead that he was uncon- scious when I hauled him in the boat. ‘* We cared for him through his ilness, believed his plausible story of having fallen overboard from a coaster, and my parents having known him years before felt sorry for bis misfortunes and my father made him first mate of his vessel; in return Gil tells me he poisoned my father.” ‘He did sartin; he ust to put p’ison in his tea and coffee, and in his grog, but in mighty small doses. “Tcaught him at it, watched him, but kept my tongue at anchor about the false colors he was showin’, an’ one day he caught me watchin’ him, an’ we comed to a understandin’, I was to get so much gold, an’ [ got it an’ spent it, an’ I was to be bos’en of the new skunner—that is the skunner when she was a privateer, an’ he put to sea ‘ithout me, as you know.” Enoch Blanchard remained in silent thought a moment, while the twilight shadows deepened around him, then he said in a low tone: ‘“*Shipmates, this is my sloop, and I have gold to store it with provisions; but I need a‘crew now, as I do not care to sell; will you ship with me, and I promise you a good berth and fair wages?” “Tl foller you to Hell Columby, Master Enoch,” bluntly said Gil Saunders. S5een ons Bill Brentford won't say nay, sir; when do we sail?” “To-morrow morning, Gil, you stay here and keep an eye on the sloop, while Brentford and myself go after provisions,’’ and the two walked up the hill in- to the town; but in a couple of hours they returned laden down with supplies, and having gotten the ‘* kits * of the two seainen from their lodging place, Enoch Blanchard hoisted sail and stood out of Port- land harbor with the ebb tide. CHAPTER XIX. BLACK DICK HAS A STORY TO TELL, Tue little sloop on its voyage from Portland had a long and rough run of it, for a storm set in shortl after leaving port, and lasted for days; but Enoch Blanchard was a skillful commander, and his crew of Gil Saunders and’ Brentford, aided him all in their wer, and at last the coast was sighted not far ron Sea View Cottage. It was just dawn when the sloop ran alongside the jer in the cove, and Enoch bounded ashore to sud- pa confront Black Dick, the bired man. “Wall, Massa Enoch, I is most telighted ter see you, sah; but you finds de ole cottage a heap of ruins, sah!’’ “In God’s name, what do you mean, Dick?’ and without waiting for a reply, Enoch rushed up the hill to where he could obtain a view of his home. It was true. The chimneys alone remained—the cottage was in ashes. Trembling in every limb, he again turned to Dick. ‘My sister! my mother! where are they?” “Ts safe, sah, as I was gwine to discuss to you, when you run off like a dog wid a kettle to his ‘tail, sah **Safe—but where?” “Tl done tole you all, sah, You see, a week ago de Sea Wolf comed here—”’ “That man again!’ “No, sah; dat boat, de schooner, sah. Wall, de capt’in he axes Miss Lulu for to marry him, that she might go an’ see you, sah, whom he say was wound- ed an’ ashore up de coast; an’ Miss Lulu was goin’ to do it, butone of de sailors tells me to tell her not to go, kase the captain didn't mean right toward her, an’I tole her; not dat she was goin’ to marry him, dee gt was gwine to go to be your nuss till you was well, sah. I tells her what de sailor say, she gets mighty white, and den she tells him, de capt’in, if he loves her he will go an’ fetch her brudder home, but dat she won't go. “Wall, sah, de capt’n smile like a angt, an’ say he do so to once, kaseI was waitin’ on de table an’ see him, an’ arter supper he puts to sea, I goin’ down to de pier to carry'some t’ings Missis had gi’n him for you an’ for hisse f. “Wall, sah, he seem mighty mad, for he cuss de men in de boat, and didn’t spoke to me good-by when I bow perlite to him, : “Den de schooner go to sea, an’ de next day de Dice in—”’ “What brig, Dick?” “De Wasp, sah, Capt’n Blakely de capt'in, an’ Massa Lootenant Meredith de fust lootenant, sah; wall, de Wasp comed into de cove heab, an’ Massa Meredith comed ashore, an’ he tole Missis an’ Missy Lulu to come right down to he house an’ stay, as de cottage was onpertected; but de smuggler’s cliff was to be a fort, an’ de sogers was to be dah, an’ so as how on dat account his house was de safe place, an’ he say as he hopes dat Missy Lulu lib dar fer ebber; but he tole her dis quiet-like, you know, Mas- sa Enoch.” ‘ “And my mother and sister are now at Meredith’s per Dey ia bad it ell f is ey is, sah, an’ it are well for dem de for, de’ very te dey left, de Britishers comed tn ; an’ sot de cottage on fire.” de cr"R, ‘im | “The British landed and burned the cottage, you | say, Dick?” ** ¥as, sah; dere was a vessil comed in de basin at night, an’ de crew landed, an’ arter dey rob de cot- tage dey burn it down to de groun’, sartin; dar de chimleys, sah, an’ de ashes,” ‘**One vessel came in, you say?” “Yes, sah; a schooner, ’case I see her far off on de. horizum in de mornin’, when I comed here.”’ “It was the »ea Wolf!’ muttered Enoch, between his teeth. ‘Oh, Oliver Eustace! I have a deadly debt to settle with you!” Then turning to the negro, he continued: ‘Where is the Wasp now, Dick?” j “She anchored in de harbor in front of Massa! Meredith’s manshum. I left her dar dis mornin’, when I comed away.” **Come, Dick, get into the sloop with me; I am go- ing down to the Meredith mansion.” Btruek by the stern manner of the youth Black Dick obeyed, and gearing loose from the pier, Enoch. stood rapidly out of the basin, his brow ¢ ouded, his. eyes full of fire, and his lips compressed. Arun of an hour, under paqenize of a seven-knot breeze, brought Enoch’s little sloop within sight of what was now called Meredith’s Harbor, and close in shore was visible, over the earthen elbows of the: hayen, the rigging of a vessel-of-war. ‘*The Wasp is still there, thank God!” cried Enoch earnestly, and rounding the point of land he headed’ directly for the vessel. “Lads, you are my friends, and I have brought you with me to ship on the Wasp. Where I go, you. g0; you understand?” said Enoch to his two faithful tote i's to ther devil beg: ling, M ‘Ef it’s to ther devil, ing your ‘din as-: ter Enoch, for thinkin’ as how vOu would, g0 here,"” por Ga. em earnestly, while Brentford return-: ed quietly: “YT will stick with you, Mr. Blanchard, in foul} weather as well as fair.” “*T believe you, lads. Hark! they hail us from the: brig!” Caiogp ahoy!’’ came floating aross the waters, ‘** Ahoy the Wasp!” replied Enoch Blanchard; and: then he continued: “T wish to come aboard; I would see Lieutenant: Meredith.” i “Who asks for me?” said a voice on board, and: Wayne Meredith’s handsome face peered over the: hig bulwarks, while he cried, joyously: *Enoch Blanchard, as I live! Come on board, my” boy, and you'll get a hearty welcome!”’ As Enoch went over the gangway the young lieu-- tenant grasped his hand, and turning to a gentle-- man in the uniform of a oon eo he said: “This is my young friend, Enoch Blanchard, Cap- tain Blakely, of whom we have often spoken,” “You are welcome, sir, on board the Wasp. We were told that you were seriously wounded, and. your mother and sister are most anxious about you; ut you look pale; come into the cabin and have a glass of wine;’? and taking Enoch's arm, the kind and gallant Captain Johnston Blakely* led him into- the handsome cabin of the Wasp. ne swallowed a glass of golden sherry, Enoch: “Pardon my haste, captain, but I came on board. to make known to Lieutenant Meredith some re- markable and painful circumstances, and I am glad’ ou are here, sir, to hear them also, for I am going’ . o ask your advice in the matter, and also your ser-- vices in omrrying out a plan I have in mind,” “Tn any nf yet serve you, Blanchard, as Mere-- Ww dith’s friend ll gladly do so,’ “T thank you, sir,” andin as few words as possi- ble Enoch Blanchard made known all with whic the- reader is already acquainted regarding the career of Oliver Eustace, excepting stating at what part of the- coast was the mt Gate island, and compromising: Brentford in the robbery of the Meredith mansion;; but he stated that Brentford’s life had been attempt- ed by Captain Eustace, and to save himself he had hurled the treacherous man into the sea, and believed: him dead up to his meeting with Enoch in Port-— -land, These two men, Brentford and Saunders, are now with me in my sloop, and if you will accept them,, with me, Captain Blakely, we wlll try and prove that: we are at least good seamen, for lam in hopes you. will conclude to pursue the Sea Wolf, as in my mind there is no doubt but that Captain Eustace landed at the cottage the other night, to carry off my sister, and set the house on fire to cover up his tracks, an would be believed the work of the En “T agree with you, Enoch; for ough the man is my cousin, he is certainly a very devil,’’ said Wayne Meredith. ‘** Well, Blanchard, as soon as you have passed an hour or so with your mother and sister—Meredith. will take you to them,” and the cap knowingly, “I will get wy anchor and go a ag of this imp of Satan, and you shall have the b of pet lieutenant on the Wasp until after his capture; in revenge when he found it vacated, horny that it. — glish.’ f your men are the plucky tellows you give them cred~ Ph or, there are two gunner’s places vacant for them to Enoch Blanchard thanked Copein Blakely again and again for his kindness, and then the three set out for the shore, for the commander of the ae readily yielded to the requests of the young offic to go and dine with them at the mansion. * Captain Johnston Blakely, of the Was was a most gallant officer, and a hero of the war of 1812. In June—28th—1814 he cAprured, after a des- Perncibe' Putas elp Beindser, 18, pean come. e C) 8 deer, | : manded by Captain William Manners. —Tue Arrow bad smiled , 18 guns, ‘<
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oy title ee ore Enoch’s name. ____ Beadle’ s Half-Dime Library. CHAPTER XX. THE BITER BITTEN. Or the meeting between Enoch and his mother and sister, the joy of the reunion, and their distress at ali they heard of the treachery, and crime of Oli- ver Eustace, I will not speak, but leave to the read- er’s imagination, as I will also the tempting dinner ‘that the five sat down to in the Meredith mansion, Wayne insisting that Captain Blakely should take the head and Mrs. Blanchard the foot of the table, which they did, At length a glass of wine to the success of the cruise was drank, tearful farewells were said, and the three sailors went on board the Wasp, which at ence got up anchor and stood seaward under full ail. athe third day atte leaving Meredith Harbor, Enoch Blanchard, who was_ constantly on the watch, descried a ‘vessel cree ing close in shore, as if to avoid being seen, for the Wasp was within three leagues of the coast. Turning his glass upon her for an instant, he sud- denly dropoed it from his eyes and cried in ringing tones, for he was at the time officer of the deck: “Sail ho! Sea Wolf ho! All hands wate 9 make sail! Quartermaster, let her fall off dead before the wind|!’” Instantly all was excitement on the Wasp, for the crew knew the object of the cruise, and out of the or hastened Captain Blakely and Wayne Mere- ** Captain Blakely, there is the schooner; we are now heading to cut her off~see, just under the land there?” **Tsee a schooner there; but are you certain it is ‘the Sea Wolf, Blanchard ?”* said the captain. 7 ‘Tam, sir; there is one seaman here who was on her for nearly e hteen months; send Gunner Saun- ders here, Mr. lis,”? and Enoch turned to a ing oung pases. who quickly gave the order. Tak ‘ake this ss, Saunders, and say if yonder craft in shore Dike schooner you sailed in with Captain Oliver npg Om and Captain Blakely handed the 3 the One long look ecaar om and Gil Saunders said, with more warmth than elegance: “Tf it hain’t, I hope I may be damned; beg yer parding, sir for Tettin’ my tongue sli its ca with a cuss word, as is forbid in the. Almighty’s rie book; but I’m d——d ef that hain’t the craft as we is s’archin’ for.” *T am obliged to you, Paunders:; go forward, and you may soon have a chance to set your bull-d -dog on the schooner— “ii shall have the first shot.” “'Thankee, sir; I hates to turn iron ag’in’ my old sea sweetheart, but as she’s ,Wwaltzed off into bad Sones y, *tain’t my fault, an’ I'll do my yer sir,”’ “Sit down, Oliver Eustace, or your craven legs may refuse to 8 apes you when you hear what I have tosay,” said the youth in tones so stern and chair at his side, while his hand sought the breast of his coat. Enoch saw the movement, and said calmly “You are covered, sir, by half a dozen a oe in yonder cabin, so w rithdraw your hand and deliver up the weapon it rests on.”’ With a curse the man obeyed, laying the pistol upon the table, and Enoch drew it toward him, “What means this treatment of me, Enoch?” sud- denl burst from the lips of Oliver Eustace, will tell you—first, Taccuse you of piracy upon the high seas. “Tt is false,” shrieked the man, half-starting from his chair. “Tt is true; two ae ago we overhauled an Ameri- can clipper-ship that a schooner, answering your vessel’s Hescrtption, but professing to be the Eng- lish privateer schooner Dominica, had boarded and robbed of all that was valuable on board, and sent, under a prize crew into Halifax harbor.”’ * You cannot prove that it was I that took the . Willis, send the mate of the American ship Dart here, = ‘* He is here, sir,” and the Middy ushered in a stout red-faced man.’ ‘This, Captain Eustace, is the mate of the Dart, whom we took from the ship to face you. Mr. Bene- dict, is this the officer who captured your ves- ect! tee Enoch turned to the caate, who answered unt That’ s him, I'll take my oath.” Oliver Eustace turned a shade whiter as he saw the mate, but he said nothing. “Mr. Benedict, you ma fae please, and ask the seaman Watson to come “Ay, ay sir,” and the nant moment a weather- beaten old tar stood in the spot just occupied by the mate of the Dart, and he leered curiously at oe: Eustace, whose dark face grew more ashen ue, ae Your name is Watson, I believe?” questioned cnoc Lads are sir.” “You shipped as first-class seaman on the schoo- ner Sea Wolf, at Halifax, | six weeks ago, I believe?” “True as Seriptur, sir.” “You shipped, bell beli eving the schooner to be an lish privateer?” “Bince you shipped on the Sea Wolf, b ‘Since you ship on the fe) ow many prizes have been taken?” “Three, sir, countin’ the clipper-ship Dart, sir.”’ Saunders went forward to his post as gun- “What were they under?”’ ner of the forecastle oe “The Dart and ie, hievous Mollie were under “He sees we are after him_and is tryi net to get | the American flag, sir ; the Princess was sailin’ under away; see, he is cracking on Canvas,"’ said Wayne | the British, sir. Meredith. “Did you as chase to any other vessels?” ‘Captain, yonder schooner is Lge Arte pod fast, “Yes, sir, to a French prigeine, but a storm and Oliver Eustace is a ky and skillful seaman, | came up and we lost her in the darkness.’ so I would like to offer 2 a eaggeathon, if you will par- don it,” said me politely. Certainly, Blanchard.” “Well, sir, as Captain Eustace hails as an Ameri- can privateer he will not run away from an American ¢ , when he knows us to be such, and would it not be a good idea to show our colors and that will check his flight, and we can then signal to him to lay to, and come on board, and you can get him and the schooner without a shot?” “The very thing; and ed shall play captain of the Wasp, for you are about my size and can slip on my uniform and receive him, hile Meredith and m, ay; self are in my state-room, listening to what is sai Midshipman Willis can meet him at the gangway and conduct him to you.” Thus it was arranged, and in an hour’s time the Wasp ran up the stars and stripes, and fired a gun to leeward. The schooner, now a league distant, instantly sent the American flag to the peak, and saluted it with 1 our name, and call him on board, Mr. Meredith,” said Captain Blakely, “The order was 0 yed, v2 a moment after the schooner headed toward the W ho “There is no doubt, Blanchard, about that being your schooner?” eee whatever, Captain Blakely—it is the Sea 9) “Then go below and promote yourself to a cai en re ne 4 visitor Shall soon be with you,” lau ed Captain Blakely, and as the im sie 3 rounded half a dozen cable lengths from the W: Map Meredith and his commander also went below. In a quarter of an hour more a boat es along- side the Wasp, and Enoch heard the schooner's cap- tain received at the gangway with all honors, Seated at the table he caimly awaited the visitor, his face deadly pale, for he was to meet the mur- derer of his father, the one who had attempted his own life, and would have dragged his beautiful sister down to shame. Two forms darkenéd the cabin companionway and Midshipman Willis said in a loud voice; ** Captain Oliver Bees, of the American Priva- teer dehoouer Sea Wolf, | Captain Blaachard ” and middy laid partic emphasis upoa the The name caused Oliver Eustace to serh and as ne “6 Oi Wayne his ae dak met the youthful face of Enoch Blanchard, gow pally a pie in hue; ae t recovering nga gue ‘hen bellowed you lowed you ae Be: said, extending his e commander re ths ‘Wasp. nee 8 asia whither t shi ee dash- h. i cia rear flags rig * Thank yen’ in here.” . | “In capturing the American vessels what flag was the Sea s Wolf under?” “The English sir,”’ “Tn taking the ea what colors were hoisted on the schooner?” “The American, sir.”’ “When you gave chase to the Bhs a) brigantine, what ensign was at the schooner’s peak? “The capt’in’s colors, sir—no other.”’- “Describe that flag, Watson.” “Tt are a black eld with a red kind o’ animile erouchin’ in it; the lads say it are a picture of a wolf, but never havin’ see’d one o’ them varmints, I can n't give it as Gospel truth, sir.”’ ht, Watson, that will do—no, hold a min- ute: you ‘were sent on the Dart as one of the prize crew, I believe?” * Yes, sir, I were.” “You were in the schooner when she landed a bart since and at night burned a cottage on the sea- e?”? “T were, sir; an’ I was with her when the ca p landed a few days before, an’ I told a nigger as a chaw 0’ terbacc 6 to tell his young missus not to trust the capt’in.’ “Tt was very kind of you, and you shall not go un- rewarded ; now you can return to the deck. ee, sir,’’ and with a bow to Smooch and a leer at the now thoro hly frightened Eustace, the old seaman left ie ‘cath. ou see, sir, I have proven you a pirate; now I accuse you of being a murderer—Gil Saunders, come The guilty man now looked ten years older; his face was , his eyes became sunken, and he trembled violently as his gaze fell upon the seaman who then ente ‘Gil Saunders, you accuse this man of murder?” and Enoch’s voice was quivering. “T do—durned ef I don't.” ‘**Who did he murder?” “One o’ the truest men as ever trod a deck—Mar- tin Blanchard, sir, your father, Master Enoch.” “You saw him commit the deed?” ** Yes, sir, he p’isened him—he did, sir, an’ I've not been so friendly with grog sin’I see him pa ut p'isen in it, sir; he’s a snakein the grass, he is, is that same Oliver Eustace.” “That is ogee Perens ou Sing retire.” “Tl go an’ git th ay pth r idy, sir , to hang him with,” snd the old sailor “This is enough, Oliver aa unless you wish me to have you face one who knows you as a mid- aight robber, who took life to save your own wretched self from capture. “Once I tes your life, and in return for it you endeavored to have me slain, as you well know. when you sent me to the smugglers’ island; and It | feel that it was you, or your hired assassin, who at- deep that the eon ee mechanically sunk into a | tempted the life of your kinsman, Wayne Meredith; but now I know you as you are—a robber, a pirate, a traitor, and the cruel murderer of my tather, and upon yeu I shall visit my rev ange “Tam but a boy in years, Oliver Eustace, but I am a manin hate; and I now condemn you to be nase. § at the yard- arm of the schooner you robbed me 0 **Merey, Enoch Blanchard! I will confess all and be your Slav e, if you will spare me,’’ groaned the un- aeee wretch, dropping upon his knees before the But Enoch Blanchard’s face was as white and cold as marble, as he replied: “No, I have no mercy for you, Oliver Eustace. This day, at sunset, you die!” The guilty man fell forw ard, half-stunned by the shock, and writhed in anguish at his fate. “Mr, Willis, have this man ironed heavily, and held on deck until the schooner is in our possession, Captain Blakely and Lieutenant Meredith, have I done right?” and Enoch turned toward the two offi- cers, who just then came from the state-room. “You have,’’ they both answered, in a breath; and without a glance: at Oliver Eustace, the three went on deck, and with a boat’s crew, w vell armed, Enoch Blanchard went on board the schooner, the Wasp standing down toward the little vesse] with her guns run out and crew at quarters Beholding who it was that boarded them, and no- ticing that their ee was not with him, and the hostile attitude of the Wasp, the two pee hg Milroy and Talmadge, knew that hey were entrapped, and cently. surrendered their swords, and Enoch Blan- ard was master of his own vessel. Shortly after another boat came alongside from the Wasp, and it contained Captain Blakely, Wayne Meredith, and Oliver Eustace in irons, As the sun was near the western horizon, prepara- tions were at once made for the execution of Oliver FEORRACE, and the crew caljled to quarters to witness “Stil acting as commander, Enoch Blanchard or- dered the guilty wretch to be swung up into mid-ai and the tightening noose around his neck stran fed the shrieks for mercy of the man who had to others never shown mercy. When the hanging form ceased to breathe, Enoch Blanchard turned to his commander: “ Captain Blakely, my duty has ended, sir. J thank you sineerely for your kindness, and offer the schoon- er to the navy, sir, as a vessel-of-war.” “You are a noble fellow, Blanchard, and I appoint Meredith as her captain and you as her first-lfeuten- ant, and will give you a good crew from the Wasp, while there are, doubtless, many of the Sea Wo men who will be glad to serve under you in a legit- imate cruise; but the officers and a few of the worst eS the crew I will put in irons as prisoners-of-war.” Re Ng pe was then made to the men of the Sea Wolf, and, to aman, they were anxious to serve a regular seamen, all professing innocence of hav- known the character of the schooner when they shipped for the intended assassin of Wayne Mere- was on the Dart as one of the prize crew, fortu- nately 08 himself. as Enoch felt that he could trust were ac- cepted, and the remainder, with their officers, sent on board the Wasp in irons, while a young lieuten- ant, Midshipman Willis, and a score of honest tars ‘among whom were Brentford, Gil Saunders, and Watson, came on board as a pr’ ize-crew. With the darkness the body of Oliver Eustace was cut down, sewed up ina hammock and thrown into the sea, and the two vessels se peperated forever—the luckless cruise of the Sea Wo hering ended, and the schooner under her new name of Chasseur’, given her by Ca posse Blakely, sped away over the waters in quest of new adventures; an honest flag floating above her quarter-deck, CHAPTER XXI. THE TWO SCHOONERS, Upon a pleasant February afternoon in the ee 1815, al. and beautiful schooner of war, flying the ‘American flag, stood out of the harbor of Hie vana, and headed into the Gulf, apparently in pure suit of a sail far off on the blue horizon. But when the graceful craft had gained a good off- ing, the changing seemed to realize that he need not fly, and chan his course he stood on a tack that uid bring the two vessels within hailing distance ere an hour ssed. A fresh breeze was blowing, and the stranger, a schooner a trifle setger than the one that had come out of Havana, bowled merrily over the waters, the British ensign "flying at the peak, and her crew of ninety men crowding her decks. Upon the quarter-deck of the American schooner were her men, seventy-five in number, standing at their guns, and all was in readiness for action. Upon the quarter-deck stood her contesoeere handsome young fellow of twenty years of age, an’ teens a dost, im safely ere the years since the reader last beheld him, for eg present tothem Enoch Blan- herd, oe captain of the American privateer schooner. Nearer or anid nearer drew the two vessels together, until a puff of smoke burst from the bows of the English craft, and the sea: porn’ was perate earnestness. For one long terrible hour the battle lasted, both vessels maneuvred with wondrous skill, and giving one taking death-wounds without Ginching from hk But at length the American ere aown upor B, resolute face that had carried egun in des- Pe aie. ee
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* 2H av re: SSRN Ret CNIS 6 Ss i uel > 3 . VE se ate a _ 898 Sleepless The Boy Duelist. 13 Eaglishman, the pling-irons were thrown, and Enooh Blanchard fed two score of boarders upon his enemy’s deck. Por five minutes the hand-to-hand fight lasted, and then the British flag was lowered—the gallant Eng- lishman surrendered to his youthful foe.* “ Sir Vincent Revelle begs to surrender his sword and vessel to you, sir.”’ Enoch Blanchard turned upon the speaker—he kwew the voice: “West Rankin!” rach g Blanchard!"’ and the two men grasped “You here, my old friend, an officer of this vessel?” continued Captain Blanchard. “Yes, I told you I intended to lead a new life, and I have risen to be a lieutenant on this schooner.” ** And Captain Revelle commands this vessel?” con- tinued the surprised Enoch. *“ Yes—there he stands!’’ “Captain Revelle, keep your sword and your ves- Bel, sir, for the service you once did for me.” “My boy duelist—by his majesty’s crown!” and the two officers warmly grasped hands, while Sir Vincent continued: “And you are the one who has fought yonder schooner so nobly and have been my conqueror? I told you you would make your mark in the world; but come ino my cabin.” : For two hours the two vessels lay together, their crews repairing damages, and then the pase the same flags flying above their decks that had floated there beforé the combat; for Enoch Blanchard would not hold the vessel of the noble and gallant Sp aoe an who had befriended him in his duel with Major McCarthney. CONCLUSION. One year after the hard-fought war between the United States and Great Britain a party of three persons were seated upon the balcony of a fashion- able hotel aé a summer resort in France. The trio consisted of two gentlemen and a lady, ree they were registered on the hotel books as fol- Ows: for excepting that Lulu had wo and Enoch more manly and hand- “gome sf were the same. Suda ay a gentleman passed along the balcony, a young lovely maiden of seventeen upon his arm. They were about to s on, when the eyes of the ee and Enoch PElanchard met, and both uttered an exclamation of pleasurable surprise. b. Captain Blanchard, I am coligitet to on dope ae ,Pleasure is mutual, I assure you, Captain e! “‘Thank you. But permit me the pleasure of pre- senting my daughter Bianche—Captain Enoch Blan. bea who said modestly: , bal am pleased to remembered so kindly; but Bir Vincent, may I Labs cag my sister and my brother- ityla e yes « , said the delighted Englishman, who could ill conceal his joy at meeting his “ Boy Duel- ist,” as he called Enoch. From that day, Enoch Blanchard and Blanch Re- velle were lovers; they could not help it, and it was should be the case. that my romance - ri that such a a revenge, over half a century agone, should +, ‘ove truth of the old adage: mY *s well that ends w: oe Eaxeunt Omnes. *On February 26, 1815, the English schooner St. Lawrence, fifteen guns, was captured off Havana, by the American privateer schooner Chasseur, fourteen guns.— AUTHOR. THE END, Beatlle's Dime Library. BY NED BUNTLINE. 14 Thayendanegea,the Scourge; or, The War-Eagle. 16 The White Wizard: or, The Seminole Prophet. 18 The Sea Bandit; or, The Queen of the Isle. 28 The Red Warrior; or, The Comanche Lover. 61 Captain Seawaif, the Privat-er. 111 The Smuggler ey ; or, The Skipper’s Crime. 122 Saul Sabberday, the Idiot Spy. 270 Andros, the Rover; or, The Pirate’s Daughter, 861 Tombstone Dick, the Train Pilot. a4 Fire re shee ihe’ Boccaaeer Kin eather, the ‘ ‘ 621 The Red Privateer; or, The Midshipman Rover. BY GEORGE C. JENKS, , the Pacific Detective. orseman. 482 The Giant ---507 The Drummer Detective. 526 Death-G the Tenderfoot Detective. 538 Rube Rocket, the Tent Detective. the Rustler. ; _ $34 Mad Sharp, fhe Rust _ 972 Jaunty Joe, the Jockey Detective. BY CAPTAIN MAYNE REID. 8 The Headless Horseman. 12 The Death-Shot; or, Tracked to Death, 55 The Scalp Hunters. A Romance of the Plains. 66 The Specter Barque. A Tale of the Pacific. 74 The Captain of the Rifles; or, The Lake Queen, | 200 The Rifle Rangers; or, Adventures in Mexico, 208 The White Chief. A Romance of Mexico. 213 The War Trail; or, The Hunc of the Wild Horse, 213 The Wild Huntress; or, The Squatter, 228 The Maroon. A Tale of Voodoo and Obeah, 234 The Hunter’s Feast. 267 The White Squaw. BY J. Cc. COWDRICK. 890 The Giant Cupid; or Cibuta John’s Jubilee. 422 Blue Grass Burt, the Gold Star Detective. 436 Kentucky Jean, the Sport from Yellow Pine, 452 Rainbow Rob, the Tulip from Texas, 473 Gilbert of Gotham, the Steel-arm Detective. 499 Twilight Charlie, the Road Sport. 519 Old Riddles, the Rocky Ranger 557 The Mountain Graybeards; or, Riddles’ Riddle, 565 Prince Paul, the Postman Detective. 580 Shadowing a Shadow. 591 Duke Daniels, the Society Detective. 598 The Dominie Detective. 612 Sheriff Stillwood, the Regulator of Raspberry. 626 Ducats Dion, the Nabob Sport Detective, BY OLL COOMES. 7 Death-Notch, the Destroyer. 43 Dakota Dan. the Reckless Ranger. 44 Old Dan Rackhack, the Great Extarminator, 46 Bowie-Knife Ben, the Nor’west Hunter. 48 Jdaho Tom, the Young Outlaw of Silverland. 51 Red Rob, the Boy Road-Agent. 99 The Giant Rifleman: or, Wild Camp Life, 137 Long Beard, the Giant Spy. 148 One-Armed Alf, the Giant Hunter, 619 Kit Bandy & Co , the Border Detectives. BY MAJOR DANIEL BOONE DUMONT. 883 Silver Sam, the Detective. 889 Colonel Double-Edge, the Cattle Baron's Pard, 411 The White Crook; or, Old Hark’s Fortress. 420 The Old River Sport; or, A Man onor, 439 Salamander Sam. 454 The Night Raider. 464 Sandycraw, the Man of Grit. 608 Topnotch Tom, the Mad Parson, 573 The Witch of Shasta; or, The Man of Cheek, BY ANTHONY P. MORRIS, 5 The Fire Fiends; or, Hercules, Hunchback. 95 Azhort, the Axman; or, The Palace Secrets, 100 The French Spy; or, The Bride of Paris. 167 The Man of Steel. Tale of Love and Terror, 18 Man Apo or, The Beautiful Sphinx. = A nH eg the age Ge OH speteeire. e e stery; or, e c scent, 288 Electro Pete, the Man of Fire. 306 The Roughs of Richmond. 813 Mark Magic, Detective, 334 The Cipber Detective. 343 The Head Hunter; or, Mark Magic in the Mine. 357 Jack Simons, Detective. . BY MAJOR DANGERFIELD BURR, 92 Buffalo Bill, the Buckskin King. 117 Dashing Dandy; or, The Hotspur of the Hills, 142 Captain Crimson, the Man of the Iron Face, 156 Velvet Face, the ‘Border Bravo. 18 The Phantom Mazeppa; or, The Hyena, 448 Hark Kenton, the Traitor. . BY WM. G. PATTEN, 545 Hustler Harry, the Cowboy Sport. 571 Old Dismal, the Range Detective. 602 Captain Nameless, the Mountain Mystery, BY SAM 8S. HALL—** Buckskin Sam.” 3 Kit Carson, Jr., the Crack Shot. 90 Wild Will, the Mad Ranchero. 178 Dark Dashwood, the Desperate. 186 The Black Bravo; or, The Tonkaway’s Triumph. 191 The Terrible Tonkaway; or, Old Rocky 's Pards. 195 The Lone Star Gambler; or, Magnolia’s Maid. 199 Diamond Dick, the Dandy from Denver. 204 Big Foot Wallace, the King of the Lariat. 212 The Brazos Tigers: or, The Minute Men. 217 The Serpent of El Paso; or, Frontier Frank. 221 Desperate Duke, the Guadeloy? Galoot. ; Rock Mountain Al; or, The Waif of the Range. The ‘terrible Trio; or, The Angel of the Army, aa aa oa the Mat eee of aiioon. fixe ‘The Rough Riders; or, Sharp 5 y oye the Dastard; or, The Pirates. Crooked Three 269 The Bayou Bravo; or, The Terrible Trail. 273 Mountain Mose, the Gorge Outlaw. ; 282 The Merciless Marauders; or, Carl’s Revenge. 287 Dandy Dave and his Horse, White Stocking. 293 Stampede Steve: or, The Doom of the Double. 301 Bowlder Bill; or, The Man from Taos, 809 Raybold, the Rattling er 322 The Crimson Coyotes; or, Nita, the Nemesis 828 King Kent; or, The Bandits of the Bason. 342 Blanco Bill, the Mustang Monarch. P 858 The Prince of Pan Out. 871 Gold Buttons; or, The Up Range Pards 511 Paint Pete, the Prairie Patrol. BY CAPT. FRED. WHITTAKER, 89 The Russian Spy; or, The Starry Cross Brothers, 65 The Red Rajah; or, The Scourge of the Indies, 69 The Irish Captain. A Tale of Fontenoy, 96 Double Death; or, The Spy of Wyoming. 98 The Rock Rider; or, The Spirit of the Sierra. 108 The Duke of Diamonds, 115 The Severed Head; or, The Castle Coucy Secret. 132 Nemo, King of the Tramps, 159 Red Rudiger, the Archer, 174 The Phantom Knights, 187 The Death’s Head Cuirassiers, 198 The Man in Red; or, The Ghost of the Old Guard. 206 One Eye, the Cannoneer, 211 Colonel Sings or, The Unknown Sport, 215 Parson Jim, King of the Cowboys. 226 The Mad Hussars; or, The O's and the Mac’s, 280 The Fiving Dutchman of 1880. 242 The Fog Devil; or, The Skipper of the Flash. 247 Alligator Ike: or, The Secret of the Everglade, 253 A Yankee Cossack; or, The Queen of the Nibilists, 265 Old Double-Sword; or, Pilots and Pirates, 272 Seth Slocum, Railroad Surveyor, 277 The Saucy Jane, Privateer. . 284 The Three Frigates; or, Old Ironsides’ Revenge. 290 The Lost Corvette: or, Blakeley’s Last Cruise, 295 Old Cross-Eye, the Maverick-Hunter, 808 Top-Notch Tom, the Cowboy Outlaw. 810 The Marshal of Satanstown; or, The League, $26 The Whitest Man in the Mines, 878 John Armstrong, Mechanic, 406 Old Pop Hicks, Showman, 412 Larry ke, the Man of Iron, 445 Journeyman John, the Champion, 609 The Texas Tramp; or, Solid Saul, 614 The Showman Detective; or, The Mad Magician BY CAPTAIN MARK WILTON, 176 Lady Jaguar, the Robber Queen. 194 Don Sombrero, the California Road Gent, 202 Cactus Jack, the Giant Guide, 219 The Scorpion Brothers; or, Mad Tom’s Mission. 223 Canyon Dave, the Man of the Mountain, 227 Buckshot Ben, the Man-Hunter of Idaho. 237 Long-Haired Max; or, The Black League. 245 Barranca Bill, the Revolver Champion 258 Bullet Head, the Colorado Bravo, 263 Iron-Armed Abe, the Hunchback Destroyer, 266 Leopard Luke, the King of Horse-Thieves, 271 Stonefist, of Big Nugget Bend. 276 Texas Chick, the Southwest Detective, 285 Lightning Bolt, the Canyon Terror. 291 Horseshoe Hank, the Man of Big Luck, 305 Silver-Plated Sol, the Montana Rover, 811 Heavy Hand; or, The Marked Men. 823 Hotspur Hugh; or, The Banded Brothers, BY EDWARD WILLETT, 129 Mississippi Mose; or, a Strong Man's Sacrifice, 209 Buck Farley, the Bonanza Prince. 222 Bill the Blizzard; or, Red Jack’s Crime, 248 Montana Nat, the Lion of Last Chance Camp, 274 Flush Fred, the Mississippi Sport. 289 Flush Fred’s Full Hand, - 298 Logger Lem; or, Life in the Pine Woods, 308 Hemlock Hank, Tough and True. 815 Flush Fred’s Double; or, The Squatters’ League, 827 Terrapin Dick, the Wildwood Detective. 887 Old Gabe, the Mountain Tramp. $48 Dan Dillon, King of Crosscut. . 368 The Canyon King; or, a Price on his Head. 488 Flush Fred, the River Sharp. MISCELLANEOUS. 6 Wildeat Bob. By Edward L. Wheeler, 9 Handy Andy. By Samuel Lover. 10 Vidoceq, the French Police Spy. By himself, 11 Midshipman Easy. Br Captain Marryatt. 32 B’hoys of Yale; or, The Serapes of Collegians, 60 Wide Awake, the Robber King. By I’. Dumont, 68 The Fighting Trapper. By Capt. J. F.C, Adams, 76 The Queen’s Musketeers. By George Albany. ysterious Spy. By Arthur M. Grainger, 102 The Masked Band. By George L. Aiken. 110 The Silent Rifleman. By H. W. Herbert. 125 The Blacksmith Outlaw. By H. Ainsworth. 133 Rody the Rover. By William Carieton, 140 The Three Spaniards. By Geo. Walker. 144 The Hunchback of Notre Dame. By-Victor Hugo. 146 The Doctor Detective. By George Lemuel. — 152 Captain Ironnerve, the Counterfeiter Chief. 158 The Doomed Dozen. By Dr. Frank Powell, 166 Owlet, the Robber Prince. By 8, R, Urban. 179 Conrad, the Convict. By Prof. Gildersleeve. 190 The Three Guardsmen. By Alexander Dumas, 261 Tack Hap, the Prairie Thunderbolt. By Col, Jo Yards, ' 275 The Smuggler Cutter. By J.D. cay n Scourge. By Mor- 312 Kinkfoot s 1, the Mounta ris Redwing. i 350 Flash Waloon, Society Detective. By W. J. Cobb 353 Bart Brennan; or, The King of Straight Flush, By John Cuthbert. | 366 The Telegraph Detective. By Geares H, Morse, 410 Sarah Brown, Detective. By K. F. Hill. 518 Royal Richard, the Thoroughbred. By J. W. sbon. 534 Green Mountain Joe; or, The Counterfeiter'’s By Marmaduke De: Cave. > * ists 542 The Ocean Drift; or, The Weht for Two Lives, By A, F. Holt. 566 The Dauntless Deteciive; or, The Daughter Avenger. By Tom W. King. ; Beadle’s Dime Library is for sale by alk Newsdealers, ten cents per copy, or sent by mail om receipt of twelve cents EADLE & AD. a Publishers, 96 William street, ew York. © on a
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UFFALO BILL Novels BY COLONEL PRENTISS INGRAHAM. Bills Redskin Ruse. Bills Boys in Blue. Bills Sharp-Shooters. Bills Best Bower. Bubs Red Trail. Bill's Death-Knell, BUPs Winning Hand, Bill’s D ad-Shot, Bill's Brand. Bills Spy-Shadower. Bills Sweepstake. Bills Dozen. Bills Mascot, 757 Baffalo Bill's Double. 750 Buffalo Bill’s Big Four. 743 Buffalo Bill’s Flush Hand, 5 Buffalo Baffalo Buffalo Buffalo Buffalo Buffalo Buffalo Bu ffalo Buffalo | Buffalo Buffalo Buffalo 761 Buffalo AS HERO AND AUTHOR. Texas Jack’s Proxy. 820 White Beaver’s Still Hunt. 639 The Gold King. . 599 Whe Dead-Shot Nine, BUFFALO BILL Rescue. 682 Buffalo Bill’s Secret Service Trail, 629 Baffalo Bill’s Daring Role. o/s p . LOO Vi Mi. z BEADLE'S [ME DIALOGUES AND SPEAKERS Exhibitions and Home Entertainments, THESE DIALOGUES, Minor Dramas, Scenic and Dress Pieces, and Rostrum Divertisements have now a national recogni- tion and reputation; for their excellence, availability and singularly varied character have sent the little volumes into Schools, Homes and Associations throughout every State and Section of this Country and the Dominion. SPEAKERS Nos. 1 to 25. 60 to 70 Pieces in Each Book. ‘THESE BOOKS have no equal for avail- ability and merit of matter, and have a wider popularity among teachers, scholars, schools and amateurs than any series or single volumes yet published, at any price, in this country, Buffalo Bills Double Dilemma, BY BUFFALO BILL. 839 The Ranch King Dead-Shot; or|401 The One-Arm Pard. 807 Wild Bill, the Wild West Duelist. 800 Wild Bill, the Dead-Center Shot, 414 Red Renard, the Indian Detective. ! BY LEON LEWIS, NED BUNTLINE, Etc. ° 773 Buffalo Bill's Ban; or, Cody to the| 517 Buffalo Bills First Trail, HSS MS LAS DATE AE AE AEE AEE IEE AEE AEE UES BK COE OG gC-EC BE SE GE LDE MELEE in Beadle’s DIME LIBRAR Buffalo Bill’s Blind. Buflalo Bill and His Merry Men. Buffato Bill’s Beagles. Buffalo Bills Body Guard. Buffalo Bill on the War-Path. Buffalo Bill's Scout Shadowers. Baffalo Bill Bafiled. Buffalo Bill’s Buckskin Brotherh’d Buffalo Bill’s Blind Trail. Buffalo Bills Swoop. Buffalo Bills Chief of Cowboys, Buffalo Bills Bonanza. Buffalo Bill’s Grip. 329 Buffalo Bill’s Pledge. 189 Wild Bill's Gold Trail. 175 Wild Bills Trump Card. 168 Wild Bill, the Pistol Dead Shot. 397 The Wizard Brothers. 394 White Beaver, Exile of the Platte. 319 Wild Bill, Whirlwind of the West, 304 Texas Jack, the Prairie Rattler, 43 The Pilgrim Sharp. 83 Gold Bullet Sport. 52 Death Traile r the Chief of Scouts, ‘daIT LSAM GIM S-ITIA OTVAINE 158 Buffalo Bill, Chief of Scouts, 117 Buffalo Bills Strange Pard. 92 Buffalo Bill, the Buckekin King. SON RST Tees lpes gs Migs: Nr Ages igs MSE: OE OE CE GE GEE DESDE Mi EGE EEX FOR Hach Volume 100 12mo Pages, 3 DIALOGUES Nos. 1 to 41. 15 to 20 Pieces in Each Book. THE SPEAKERS run the whole range of oratory, recitation and declamation, giving what is best in eloquence, argument, humor, vernacular and dialect—prose and verse—thus making the series a perfect mine of good things, not only for declamation and recitation but for School and Family Readings, BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William St., New York. ii ad 02 5 Sree ae ee ine al J 54 Bn Pp ee he, n 4) ar
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~ BEADLE’S* H ALF- DIME« LIBRARY. Published Every Tuesday. Each Issue Complete and Sold at the Unijorm Price of Five Cents, by all Newsdeaers, RY OLL COOMES. Bandy, Detective; or, Silver Star, the Roy Knight. Bandy In ‘Texas; or, The Young Mustanger, Bandy’s Catch; or, The Boy Hercules. Bandy’s Right Bower; or, Baby Sam,the Boy Giant Bandy’s Swoop; or, Little Buckskin, tne Centaur, Bandy’s Slick Scheme; or, Old Tom Rattler, Bandy’s Deliverance; or, Banner Bsn. Bandy’s Pard; ov, Dauntless Dan, the Freelance. Bandy Rattled; or, The Intant Giant. Bandy in Red Ruting or, The Young Whirlwind, 99 kit Bandy’s Big Rustle; or, Saddle King Sam. Kit Bandy’s Brigade; or, Dan, the Mountain Guide. Kid Bandy’s Brigade in Arizona. hit Bandy’s Star Engagement. 58 Jack Drew, the Nemesis, or, Eagle Kit the Boy Demon. 82 Jack Drew’s Drop; or, Little Hurricane, the Boy Captain, 02 Jack Drew in Deadwood; or, Prospect Pete. 2? Keen Knife on Guard; or, Antelope Abe, the Boy Guide B81 Keen-Knilte, the Prince of thesKrairies, 5B Vagabond Joe, the Young Wandering Jow, 18 The Dumb Spy- if 41 Lasso Jack, the Young Mustanger, . 68 The Border King; or, The Secret Foe. 21 Delaware Dick, the Young Ranger Spy, 74 Wawk-eye pearly the Young Trapper Ranger, BB Molloy the Koy Ranger; or The Flelress, 84 Sure Shot Seth, the Boy Rifleman. 48 Sear-Face Saul, the Silent Hunter, 178 Old Solitary, the Hermit Trapper, P 18 Tiger Tom, the Texas Terror, m 224 Dashing Dick 3 or, Trapper Tom’s Costin, ; 228 Little Wildiire, the Young Prairie Nomad. 288 The Parson Detective; or, The Little Ranger, 248 The Disguised Guide; or, Wild Raven, the Ranger, 60 Dare-Devil Dan, the Young Prairie Ranger. 72 Minkskin Mike, the Boy Sharpshooter. 90 Little Foxfire, the Boy Spy; or, Old Caleb Arbuckle, 00 The Sky Demon; or, Rainbolt, the Ranger. j 84 Whip-King Joe, the Boy Ranchero. 09 Hereules; vr, Dick, the Boy Ranger, }41z Webfoot Mone, the Tramp Detective. 457 Wingedfoot Fred}; or, Old Polar Saul. . 468 Tamarac Tom, the Big Trapper Boy, 482 Stonewall Bob, the Boy Trojan, i 562 Blundering Baall, the Hermit Boy Trappa, | : $52 Don Barr, the Plains Freelance, 4 870 Norway Nels, the Big Boy Mountaineer. T7s pighiosd Marry, the Wizard Rifleman, @28 Poker Jack, the Detective Sport. Br | BY T, J. FLANAGAN, i 909 Midshipman Dare, the Pirate Catch 925 The Y¥ ae Cowboy p Paar Sere 083 ane Two ‘Wiidshipsen } or, The} Coraair-Chaser’s Firat ruise, BY DAN DUNNING, 746 Qulet Jack, the Secret Service Spy. ac and J ack, the Invinclbles; or, The Diabofical Three. S75 Detective Dave’s Close Call. 884 Farrel Fox and His Girl Ferret. 298 Farrel, Fox’s Sweep-Stakes. if ie \ BY GEORGE O. JENKS, : 486 Git Ther Owney the Unknown. a 92 Git Thar Owney’s Pledge. 7: Hi8 The Demon Doctor; or, Deadhold, the Kid Detective, #81 Double-Ourve Dan, the Pitcher Detective. BS Flute, \oe Singer Detective;wr, Owney In a New Role, 08 The Pitcher Detective’s Foil: or, Dan’s Double Play. The Ocean Detectives or, The Last Cruise ofthe Black Bear, The Pitcher Detective’s Tonghest Tussle, aten on Every Side, BY WM. G. PATTEN, 429 Violet Vane, the Velvet Sport; or, The Jubilee ot Jacktown ; os Violet Vanes Victory; or, The Jasper City Clean Out. 4 498 Violet and Daisy, the Posy Pards, ob Violet Vane’s Vow; or, The Crafty Detective’s Craft, 24 Violet Vane’s Vengeance; or, The Wipe Out, Violet Vane’s Verdict; or, The Game at Coffin City. Al Violet Vane, the Ventriloguist Vidocq; or, Sport va, Sport. 50 Violet Vane, the Vanquished, or, The Life Strugg'e, 68 Violet Vane’s Visions or, The Fiery Hand of Fate, ¥ Tho Mamond Bperts or, The Double Face of Bed Rock, 19 Oaptain ai yater y 3 or, Five in One, 1 Dalsy Ware the Sport from Denver. 87 @ld Bombshell, the Ranger Detective, M t. 20 Nobby Naty, the Tendorfoot Detective. aes Shar or Stoke's Double Deal. S57 Spotter Bobin New York, 266 Spotter Bob’s Bowery Racket. BY COLONEL DELLE SARA. The Lion of the Sea; or, The Vailed Lady. Odol Desmond ¢ or, The Gambler’s Big Game, BY CAPTAIN FRED. WHITTAKER, y to Koa-Cat or, The 8 lhe Darien. ‘ e Dum age} or, ter, ean Darling, fs ad ection Rider.” ™ i iS I) r Zeon S Se ° P or, whe Lock Captatns oe sire: Sths Gy Dra nm or, P 4A Wolfgang, the Robber of the ta ay Sore lense 9 Milo Romer the An King; er, Round the World, 65 The wiger Tamer ; or, The League of the Jungle. ‘B81 Black Nick, the Demon Rider. 895 Oalifornia Joe’s War Trail. es! BY OAPT. J. F. 0. ADAMS. \[ 84 Sol; or, Nick Whiffles’s Boy Spy. : nyt Srey ns fhe reat Shot of the West. a ‘54 iii the Boy T: rr. B6 Nick Whifllcn’s Pet; or, Ir The Valley of Death. oO ou White Indian}; or, The Scout of the Yei Old Zip’s Cabin; or, The Greenhorn in the Woods, ight , Davy Crock 817 Peacock Fete. the 888 The &ky Detectives or, A Boy’s Fight for Life and Hones, 6 A.M 876 Californian Joe’s Firat Trail, By Colonel 484 Comanche Dick and His Three Invineibles. By id. 585 Will Waters, the Bov Ferret. By 1. Enton. 809 Don Danton, the Gent from Denver. By E. Tripp. 880 The Grim Vodgers in Rag Alley; 841 Prinee Oharlle, the Cat’s- Paw Sport. 879 Bluc-light Bill, the Sapphire Sport; or, The Denver Detes- @onts per copy, or sent by m recetpt of six conts eacn, BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishera, «98 William Street, Now Veghy a 4 < a ,
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BY EDWARD L. WHEELER, Deadwood Dick Novels. 1 Deadwood Dick, the Prince of the Road. 20 Deadwood Dick’s Defiance; or, Double Daggers. ae pene wood a. - Pasgulecs or, Buffaj» Ben. 5 Deadwoo ck in s Castle. 42 Deadwood Dick’s Bonanza; or, The Phantom Miner. 49 Deadwood Dick in Danger; or, Omaha O}l. 57 Deadwood Dick’s Eagles; or, The Pards of Flood Bar. 28 Deadwood Dick on Deck; or, Calamity 4 ine, the Heroine tod pena wend eee Lpat ant or, Corduroy Charlie. ead woo ek in Leadville. ae sreadwreck oe a ice; ms The Double Cross Sign. eadwoo ek as Detective. 129 Deadwood Dick’s Double; or, The Gorgon’s Gulch Ghost, 188 Deadwood Dick’s Home Hasse; or, Blonds Bill. 149 Deadwood Dick’s Big Strike; or, A Game of Gold. 156 Deadwood Dick of Deadwood} or, The Picked Party. 195 Deadwood Dick’s Dreamy or, The Rivals of the Road, 201 Deadwood Dick’s Wards or, The Black Hill’s Jezebel, oop prendwood pune pours or, taret: Jane’s Adventure, 7 Deadwoo ck’s Dead Dcal, B21 Deadwood Dick’s Death-Piant. 282 Gold-Dust Dick. A Romance of Roughs and Tovgha, $45 Seg he 4 pea pivide voi ta Spirit of Swamp Lake. eadwoo ck’s Death Trail. B09 Deadwood Pick’s Veal; or, The Gold Brick of Oregon. B21 Deadwood Dick's Dozen; or, The Fakir of Phantom Flats 847 Deadwood Dick’s Ducata; or, Days in the Diggings, 7} eeaweed pe Eat or, The ‘Serrible Vendetta, adw ck’a Claim, 405 Deadwood Dick in Dead City. 410 Deadwood Dick’s Diamonds. 421 Deadwood Dick in New York; or, A “Cute Case.” 480 Deadwood Dick’s Duat; or, The Chained Hand. vind enaweed Pick, ort fas ae Crimson Crescent Sign. eadwoo e r.’s, Deflance, 45% Deadwood Dick, Iris Full Hand. 459 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’a, Big Round-Up. 465 Deadwood Dick Jr.’s Racket at Claim 10, 471 Deadwood Dick, Jr.'s Corral; or, Bozeman Bill. dee Besgract plex: grape uetoel™ ek, le eadu ood, 491 Deadwood Dick, Tr. Compact. 496 Deadwood Dick Jr.’a, Inheritance. 500 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’a Ini nga. 508 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’*, Deliverance, 515 Deadwood Dick Jr.'s Prote 522 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’a, Three. 529 Veadwood Dick, Jr.’a, Danger Ducka, Py pasewess eda hele Wath Munt. endwood Dick, dr. n Texas. 544 Deadwood Dick, Jr., the Wild West Vidocg pee pend weed aieks 5 on ie Bostic. > endwoo ¢ r-y In Gotham, 561 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Boston, ° Bee peneweed peeks Shu - Seadelphin. . cadwoo ¢ r., in Chicage, b78 Deadwood Dick, Jr.. Afi ont. 584 Deadwood Dick. vr.. in Denver. 590 leadwood Dick, Jr.’a, Deeree. G00 Deadwood Dick 3r., at Coney telands " ry Rig 606 Deadwood Dick, Jv, Lendville Lay. 612 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Detroit. 618 Deadwood Dick, Jr. in Cincinnati. 624 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Nevada, 680 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in No Man’s Land, 686 Deadwood Dick, Jr., After the Queer. 42 Deadwood Dick. Jr.. In Buffalo. Sak Deakwasd Disk, dus Among thotecagions é ie .» Am 660 Dendwood Diek, Sr.’s Tasatanes Caeser oe 666 Deadwood ick, Jr., Rack in the Minea. Dick, dry {in Durango; or, ‘ Gathered In.” pies, 5 r.4 Recoverst or, Found a Fortune, Dick, Irs. Dollars. 695 Deadwood Dick Jr., at Danger Divide, ' 00 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’*, Drop. 04 Deadwood Dick, Jr., at Jack-Pot. 10 Deadwood Dick Jr., in San Francisco, 16 Deadwood Dick, Jr.« Still Hunt. 22 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s Dominoes. 28 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’« Diaguise. 84 Deadwood Dick. Jr.’«, Double al, 40 Deadwood Diek Jr.’a. Deathwatch, 47 Dendwood Dick Jr.’«, Doublet. 562 Deadwood Dick Jr.’a, Deathblow. 758 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’a Deaperate Strait, 64 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’a, Lone Hand. 70 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’a Defcat. 76 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’a Resurrection, i Deadwooa Dick. Jr.’s Dark Days. 690 Deadwood 87 Dendwood Dick Jr., Defled. 92 Dendwood Dick, Jr.’a, Double Device, 97 Deadwood Dick, Jr’.«, Deaperate Venture, * 802 Dendwood Dick, Jr.’a, Diamond Dice, 807 Deadwood Dick Jr.’«, Royal Flush. 812 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’a Hend-off. 816 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Rival. 822 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’«, Boom, 828 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’#, Beoop. Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Proxy. 840 Deadwood Dick, Jr.'s, Clutch, $45 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’«, High Worse. 852 Deadwood Dick Jr., at Devil's Gulch, 868 Deadwood Dick) Bre Hombahelle ee endw ok, Jr.’* Bombshell, 870 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Mextieo. 876 Deadwood Dick, Jr’s Decoy Duck. 882 Deadwood Dick, Jr. In Silver Pocket. 891 Deadwved Dick, Jr.’s, Dead-Sure Game, 898 Dendwood Dick, Jr.’a, Double Drive, Jr’a, Trade-Mark, 904 Deadwood Dick, 910 Deadwood Dick, Jr., at Tip-Top. 916 Deadwood Dick, Jr.'s Double-Decker.” P28 Deadwood Dick, Jr. at Dollarvilic. 984 Deadwood Dick, Jr.. at Flush Flats 940 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’«, Shake-up, 946 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’«, Double De 951 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Right UF ee os 957 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’a, Ten-Strike. 965 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’«, Gold-Duat. YT1 Deadwood Dick Jr.’s, Oath, 977 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Death-Doom. 986 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Beat Card, $92 Deadwood Dick, J rey at Gold Duat. 998 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’a, Big Play. 1005 Deadwood Dick, Jr., Branded, 1011 Dsadwoid Dick, Jr.’s, Dutch Pard, 1018 Deadwood Dic.., J7.’s, Big Four. BY ROBERT R. INMAN, 1086 Pandy Dick’s Double. 1024 Dandy Dick, Detective. BY MARCUS H. WARING, Ons The Breet Roctiars’ Weird Hunt tL) ree potters e unt. 1058 The Three Spotters’ Dead Mystery. Other Novels by E. L. Wheeler, 80 Rosebud Rob; or, Nugget Ned, the Knight. 84 Rosebud Rob on Hands or, Idy), the Girl Miner. 88 Rosebud Rob's Reappes rance; or, Photograph Phil. 121 Rosebud Rob’s Challenge; or, Cinnamon Chip. 277 Denver Doll, the Detective Queen; or, The Yankee’s Surround 281 Denver Doll’s Victory; or, Skul) and Crossbones, 2855 Denver Doll's Decoy ; or. Little Bill’s Bonanza, 296 Denver Doll’s Drift; or, The Road Queen. 868 Vreka Jim, the Gold-Gatherers or, The Life Lottery. B72 Yreka Jim’s Prize; or, The Wolves of Wake-Up, BS5 Yreka Jim’s Joker; or, The Rivals of Red Nose, 894 Yreka Jim of Yuba Dam, 209 Fritz, the Bound-Boy Detective; or, Dot Leetle Game, 218 Fritz to the Fronts or, The Ventriloquist Hunter. 244 Sierra Sam, the Frontier Ferret; or, A Sister’s Devotion, 248 Sierra Sams Secret; or, The Bloody Footprints, 258 Sierra Sam’s Pard; or, The Ange! of Big Vista, 258 Sicrra Sain’s Sevens or, The Stolen Bride. 884 Kangaroo Kit; or, The Mysterious Miner. 889 Kangaroo Kit’s Racket; or, The Pride of Played-Out, 89 Death-Face, Detective; or, Life in New York. 96 Watch-Eye, the Detective; or, Arabs and Angels, 117 Gilt-Edged Dick, the Sport Detective 145 Captain Ferret, the New York Detective. 161 New York Nell, the Boy-Girl Detective. 226 The Arab Detective ; or, Snoozer, the Boy Sharp. 291 Turk the Boy Ferret. 825 Kelley, Hickey & Uo., the Detectives of Philadelphia, 848 Manhattan Mike, the Bowery Detective. 400 Wrinkles, the Night-Watch Detective, 416 High Wat Marry, the Base Ball Detective. 426 Sam Slabaides, the Beggar-Boy Detective. 484 Jim Beak and Pal, Private Detectives. 26 Cloven Hoof, the Buffalo Demon; or, The Border Vultures, 82 Bob Woolf; or, The Girl Dead-Shot, 45 Old Avalanche; or, Wild Edna, the Girl Brigand, 58 Jim Bludsoe, Jr., the Boy Phenix. 61 Buckhorn BIlly or, The Red Rifle Team 92 Canada Chet; or, Old Anaconda in Sitting Bull’s Camp. 118 Jack Moyle the Young Speculator, 25 Bonanza Bill, Miner; or, Madam Mystery, the Forger, 88 Boesa Bob the King of Bootblacke. Al Solid Sam, the Boy Road-Agent; or, The Branded Brows, 77 Nobby Nick of Nevaday or, The Sierras Scampa. 81 Wild Frank the Buckskin Bravo; or, Lady Lily’s Love. 286 Apollo Bill, the Trail Tornado; or, Rowdy Kate. 240 Cyclone Kit, the Young Gladiator; or, The Locked Valley, 278 Jumbo Joe, the Boy Patrol; or, The Rival Heirs. 880 Little Gatsh Shee s or, Vhe Dead Face of Daggeraville, 858 Firat-Clasa Fred, the Gent from Gopher. B78 Nabob Ned; or, The Secret of Slab City. BSS Cool Kit, the King of Kids; or, A Villain’s Vengeance, 488 Santa Fe Sal, the Slasher; or, A Son’s Vengeance. 486 Sealakin Sam, tho Sparkler; or The Tribunal of Ten, 918 Kit Kelth, t e Revenue Spotter. 922 Sol Sharpe, the New_York Night-Hawk. 948 Ola Hayseed Among Bunco Men, 1001 Banty, the Denver Bootblack. BY J. C. COWDRICK, 490 Broadway Billy, the Bootblack Bravo. B14 Broadway vite moe. rondway y’s A 5657 Broadway Billy’s Death Racket. 5679 Broadway Billy’s Surprise Party. 605 Broadway Billy; or, The Boy Detective’s Big Inning, 628 Broadway Billy’s Bead Acts or, The League of Seven. 669 Broadway Billy Abroad; or, The Bootblack in Friaco, $44 ey ed a nen or, Beating San Francisco's Finest, rondway n Clover. oes presaway Billy, fn Ronass or, The River Ruastlers, roadway y’s Brand. 711 Broadway Billy at Santa Fe; or, The Clever Deal, cae preeswey mye ule Band or, The Gamin Detective, roadwa 6 Business. 788 iconban Billy's Curlous Case, 768 Broadway Billy in Denver. 268 Neng way Fie 4 Ber ain; or, The Three Detective. Ft5 Lirvoadway Iilist Shadow Ohase. 788 Broadway Billy’a Beagles; or, The Trio’s Quest. 786 Broadway Billy’s Team; or, The Combine’s Big Pull. bi +4 roneway frre Grigedss or, a Dead Alive, roadwa « Queer Beques 800 Hreadwey Billy Haffied, ba 805 Broadway Billy’s Signal Scoop. 810 Broadway Billy’« Wipe Out, $15 Broadway Billy’s Bank Racket. 821 Rroadway Billy’s Bluff. 826 Broadway Buly Among Jersey Thugs. S88 Broadway Billy’s Raid 889 Broadway Billy’a Big Boom, 844 Broadway Billy’s Big Bulge. 849 Broadway Billy’s 100,000 Snap. ans proaawsy ares sp F] or, The Bootblack Stowaway. roadwa n London. 868 ironiwar Iiilly Shadows London Slums, 874 Broadway Billy’s French Game. $80 Broadway Billy and the Bomb-Throwera. 860 Silver-Mask, the Man of Mystery; or, The Golden Keys, 869 Shasta, the Gold King} or, For Seven Years Dead. 420 The Detective’s Apprentice; or, A Boy Without a Name, 424 Oibuta Johny or, Red-Hot Times at Ante Bar, 489 Sandy Sam, the Street Scout, 467 Disco Dan, the Daisy Dude. 506 Redlight Ralph. the Prince of the Road, 524 The Engineer Detective; or, Redlight Ralph’s Resolve 5648 Mart, the Night Express Detective. 671 Air-Line Luke the Young Engineer; or, The Double Case 592 The Boy Pinkerton; or, Running the Rascals Out. 615 Fighting Warry the Chief of Chained Cyclone, 640 Rareback. Reth, the Centaur of the Circle, 647 Typewriter Tilly the Merchant’s Ward. 659 Moonlight Morgan the “ Pisenest ”’ Man of Ante Bar, 8S7 Battery Bob. the Dock Detective. 894 Arizona Dick’s W ipe-Out. i 900 Jumping Jack’s Jubilee. 906 Satety Samy the Cyele Sport. 912 Train Boy Trist’s Not Iustle, 918 The Trump Doak: Box. 924 Big Boots Bob, the Fire-Laddle, 980 Kuatler Ralph, the Boy Spotter. 985 The Ex-Newshoy Detective’s Chum, 941 The Bowling Green Detective’s Drop. 944 Cowboy Charlie’s Double. 947 The Bowery W restler; or, The Butcher-Boy’s Backer. 958 Paddy’sa Trump Card; or, Silver Sallie, the Girl Sport, 960 The Broadway Sporty or, Flyer Fred’s Clear Case. 967 81000 Rewards; or, The Rival Reporters’ Sleek Scoop. 978 Bantam Billy, the Corker-Ferret. 978 Plucky Pat, the &treet-Boy Detective. 989 Bicycle Bob’s Hot Scorch, 997 Bcorcher Sam, the Detective on Wheels. 1004 Scorcher Mam’s Sweep-Stake s. 1009 Tne Girl Oy clin’s Winning Hand, * BY ARIZONA OY. 1048 Vou Ret Bob from Cross Crick, 1088 You Bet Bob’s Circus, me ee bee BEADLE’S« H ALF- DIME«[_IBRARY. Published Every Tuesday. Hach Issue Complete and Sold at the Uniform Price of Five Cents, by all Newsdealers.. BUFFALO BILL NOVELS, BY COL. PRENTISS INGRAHAM. 1052 Ruffalo Billin Hisguise. 1046 Gold Plume, the Boy Bandit,; or, Buffalo Biil, the Pony Express Rider, 1042 Little Grit, the Pony Exprers Rider, 1040 Buffalo Bills Pony Patrol. 1018 Buffalo Bills Texas Team, 1007 Buffalo Bill’s Sure-Shota, 1000 Buffalo Bills Decoy Boys. \ 995 Buffalo Bills Drop; or, Dead-Shot Ned , the Kansas Kia 98S Buffalo Bill's Lasso Throwers, 981 Buffalo Bill's Fighting Five. 975 Buffalo Bill's Rifle Shota, 2 968 Buffalo Bill’s Kush Rides or, Sure-Shot, the High-Flyer. 964 Buffalo BUVs Decoy; or, The Arizona Crack Shot, 958 Buffalo Bill’s Mazeppa-Chase. 948 Buffalo Bill's Bnap-shot 3_or, Wild Kid’s Texan Tally 942 Buffalo Bill's Tough Tuasle. é 986 Buffalo Bill’s Boy Mascot; or, Joe Jarvis’ Hold-up. 929 Buffalo Bill's Crack-shot Pard, 650 Buffalo BUDs« Boy Pard; or, Butterfly Billy. 216 Eison Bll, the Prince of the Reims, 222 Bison Bills OCluet or. Grit, the Bravo Sport, BY BUFFALO BILL. 55 Deadly-Eye. the Unknown Scout; or, The Banded Brotherhood 68 Border Robin Hood; or, The Prairle Rover. 158 Fancy Frank of Colorado; or, The Trapper’s Trust, 1029 The Phantom Spy. 1088 Kansas King; or, The Red Right Hand. BY CAPT, ALFRED B, TAYLOR, U. 8. A, 191 Buffalo Billy, the Boy Bullwhacker, 194 Buffalo BIIl’s Bet; or, The Gambler Guide. BY COL. PRENTISS INGRAHAM, 1087 The Arifat Detective. 1084 The Gold Witch’s Shadower. 1081 The Texun Hustlers in Cuba. 1027 The Cowboy Raiders in Cuba 1025 The Flying Y ankee or, The Ocean Outcast, 1028 The Cowboy Clan in Cua. 1016 The Boy Bugler in Cuba, ‘. 982 New York Nat’s Drop: or, Ex-Ferret Sykes’ Bold Game 926 New York Nat and the Traitor Ferret. 920 New York Nat Trapped. é 914 New York Nat's Three of a Kind. 908 New York Nat’« Double. 902 New York Nat’s in Colorado. 896 New York Nat In Gold Nugget Camp. 889 New York Nat’« Deadly Deal. 888 New York Nat’s Crook-Chase, 877 New York Nat’s Trump Card, 87L New York Nat and the Grave Ghouls, 865 New York Nat’s Masked Mascot. 859 New York Nat, the Gamin Detective, Ryt aiek poems Biduap ae Knock-Out, ¢ oom’s ‘Ten Strike. $42 Dick Doom’s Flush Hand, 272 Dick Doom’s Death-Grip; or, The Detective by Destiny, WZ Dick Doom’s Destiny; or, The River Blacklog’s Terror, | 784 Dick Doom; or, The Sharps and Sharks of New York. ‘Se Pick ee fe ppetent or, A Man of Many Maske, e oom tn Chicago. 298 Dick Doom in the Wild Weat. Bos pick Poom’s Clean veep or, Five Links in a Clue, 0 le oom’s Den ‘ue. SID Disk Doom’s Gicl Mascots ie ma Gir ascot. 829 Dick Doom’s Shadow Hunt, 885 Dick Doom’s Big Ne 749 Dashing Charlie; or, The Kentucky Tenderfoot’s Firet Tralig 756 Dashing Charlie’s Destiny: or, The Renegade’s Captives 760 Dashing Charlie’a Pawnee Pard, 766 seabing Charlie, the Rescuer. 497 Ruck Taylor, King of the Cowboys. 787 Buck Taylor, the Comanche’s Captive. 748 Buck Taylor’s Boys; 1, The Red Riders of the Rio Grande, And Finey Others. BY LIEUT, A. K, SIMS. 589 Tom-Oat and Pard; or, The Dead Set at Silver City. 622 Tom-Cat’s Triad; or, The Affair at Tombstone, 681 Tom Cat’s Terrible Task; or, The Cowboy Detective 688 Tom-Cat’s Triam pbs or, Black Dan’s Great Combine. 546 Captain Cactus, the Chaparral Cock; or, Josh’a Ten Strike, 568 The Dandy of Dodge; or, Rustling for Millions. 576 The Silver Sports or, Josh Peppermint’s Jubilee. 588 Saffron Sol, the Man With a Shadow 601 Happy Mana, the Dutch Vidocq; or, Hot Timesat Round-Up 611 Bil +4 Barnacle, the Detective Hercules. 646 Cowboy Gid, the Cattle-Range Detective. 657 Warbling William the Mountain Mountebank, 665 Jolly Jeremiah, the Plains Detective. 676 Signal Samy, the kout Scout. 689 Billy the Gyps Spy: or, The Mystery of Two Liver,’ 699 Simple Sim, the Broncho Buster; or, For Big Stakes. 2712 The Meameriat Sport; or, The Mystified Detective, 788 Toltec Tom, the Mad Prospector. 45 Kansas Jim the Cross-Cut Detective. 761 Marmaduke, the Mustanger Detective. 778 The Ruatler of Rolling Stone. 285 Lone Hand Joe the Committee of One. 801 Kent Kirby, the High-Kicker from Killbuck, 882 The Doctor Dete etive in Texaa. 872 Two Showmen Petectives in Colorado, " 987 The Texan Firebrand: or, Brazos Billy’s Snap.Shot, 961 The Tramp’s Trump-Trick. NEW ISSUES, 1064 Dandy Dick Decoyed. By Robert R. Inman. 1065 Sure Shot Beth, the Boy Rifleman. By Oll Coomes, 1066 Co ~ boy Chris, the Des rt Centaur, Ry Ww, W, Wilder, 1067 You Bet Bob’s Jangle._ By_Arizona Cy. 1068 The Cruise of the Sea Wo'f. By Col. Ingraham. 1069 On Land and fen. By Bracebiidge Hemyng j ; 1070 Nat Todd; or, The Fate of tue Sioux Captive. By Ellis, 1071 Dandy Dick’s Decoy, By Robt. R, Inman. 1072 Keon Knite, Prince of the Prairies, By Oll Coomes. JUST ISSUED. 1055 Red Raven’s Redskin Ruse, By Col. P, Ingrabam 1056 Cowboy Chris in Cinnabar, By Wm. W. Wilder, 1057 Gold Rifle, the Sharpshooter. By Ed, L, Wheeler. 1058 Roderick, the Rover. By{T. J Flanagan 1059 Ned Wylde, the Boy Scout. By Texas Jack. 1060 Marlo, the Renegade. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, 1061 Ailver Star, the Boy Knight. By O11 Coomes 1062 Th> Left-Wand Athlete, By Bracebridge Hemyng. 1068 Wild BUl’s Weird Foe, By Wm.G Patten, A New Issue Every Tuesday. The £.Dime Library 1s for sale by all newsdeslers, five @onta Boni or aes by coy d receipt ot six cents each. ? BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, ' 92 William Street, New York, } a