Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 22) (1877 12 28)
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Vol. E& Fs. a Price, The Sea Serpent; THE BOY ROBINSON CRUSOE, BY JUAN LEWIS, AUTHOR oF “TRUST HER NOT,” “THE SWAMP Fox,” ““THE SORCERER'S VICTIM,” ‘‘ MY QUAINT FAMIL- 1ARS,” “THE SKELETON HAND,” “ LIFE AGAINST TIDE," ETC., ETC. CHAPTER I. THE BOY HERO—HIS RESOLVE. Tue tide was rising on a sandy shore. A boy, of fifteen years of age or thereabouts, was walking slowly up and down along the margin, lost in thought. At every ste foeknanna but he evidently gave no thought to wind or tide. A heavy wave sent the spray dashing over him, and recalled him to himself. “*T will do it!” he declared with emphatic gesture; “f shall succeed. Something tells me so; I will begin at once the search for my uncle, the old sea-captain.” And with these words he walked briskly in the direction of a small cottage, the roof and chimney of which were visible among the trees a few hundred yards inland. A cottage formerly his moth- er’s—now his own, for she was buried yesterday. His name was Julian Adams. He was entirely alone in the world—alone with the single = tion to which he had al- u That exception was his moth- er’s brother, an old sea-captain —James Kidd—of whom he had often heard in earlier years, who had gone to India and East, and was still sup- »08sed to be living in or near Bombay. It had been one of Julian's boyish dreams to iy out to his uncle, and in fact he had only been restrained therefrom by the urgent solicitations of f mother, whom he loved too well to leave in loneliness. As he now deliberated in ref- erence to his future course, this early dream came back to him with renewed force, and the result of his deliberations, as we have seen, was to lose no time in carrying this pur- pose into execution. But there was one difficulty in the way, as it now occurred to him; he did not even know his uncle’s address. Beyond the bare fact that he was somewhere in India, where he was supposed to have set- tled, and that he had once been heard from at ee arte A he knew of him absolutely nothing, That he was a man of vast wealth Julian's mother had be- lieved, but that he had been incensed at her marriage she also believed, for he had never held communication with his sister after the first announce- ment of that event. But, trust- the incoming tide obliterated his | A Dee 7 4 i W. OBR-50/ “ela i i i tt! a! a i, a a Copyrighted in 1877, by BEADLE AND ADAMS. BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS, No. 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. ing to the softening influence of time, and to the rseverance that usually commands success, Julian Sotermined at every hazard to find this uncle; to make known his Kinship to this man of ominous name, but as Julian believed of 1 heart—in short, to begin at once the search for ytain Kidd. He reached the house and went in. Everything was as his mother had left it, for her illness had been brief, and there had been no change. Her familiar easy-chair was in its accustomed lace, but alas! em vA the clock ticking away upon he mantle as it one many a year: the tea-kettle by the fireside—as in happier days; and as Julian looked around him and thought bow soon these old associates would be but a memory of the past, he dropped upon a lounge and burst into tears. For his was a tender heart. For some time he sat with his head upon his hands, but at length dried his tears, and rising walked the floor with all the latent energy of his nature coming to the surface. To enter upon the search which he proposed, he | knew would require money. -_ THE SEA SERPENT ON THE WRECK. 5 Cents. Besides the house and grounds, left him by bis deceased parents, the sum total of his own and his mother’s savings amounted to two hundred dollars. To the boy this seemed a large amount, and he bred it ready to his hand, saved up between the leaves of the old family Bible; which k his mother had al- ways taught him was a far safer place of deposit than any other—for was it not a treasure in itself? He now proceeded to pack up such things as he felt he would most need, placing his mother’s Bible with its treasure in a breast-pocket, and filling his knapsack, locked all the doors and windows of the house, and coming out took one long silent glance at the premises thus left desolate and forsaken. He was in the act of turning away, when a gruff voice accosted him, and looking up he saw Squire Lawson, a petty magistrate and neighbor who lived a mile off. He looked suspiciously at Julian's well-filled knap- sack, and at the closed house. Where are you going, Julian?” he demanded. Julian faltered. Of all the men in the world, he thought, this man was the least likely to take « ny interest in the course he hail marked out. He had often heard him ray, that there was no romance = about Aim, and with a sharp- . ness beyond his years, the boy already foresaw that his pro- jected search for his uncle might be considered by his elders as an enterprise bith romantic and foolish. He hesitated. The man saw his Hesitation and looked at him more sus- piciously. “T asked you just now,” he said sternly, “where you were oing; I repeat it, andl demand o know.” “Demand, sir?’ said Julian, flushing with some resentment in his tone. 4 demand,” responded Squire wson. *I have been appoiuted your guardian. See! Seve is my authority!’ displaying a folded paper as hespoke; “‘and Ihave come down to take possession of your mother’s propeny be- fore it is all wasted by neglect, or ——— by you.” Julian turned’ from hot to cold at these words, but his voice had a manly ring as he replied: “Sir, you have no right; I do not acknowledge you as my guardian; Tam old enough to choose for myself; I was fourteen last year. My . mother has often told me that after that age any boy could choose his own guardian.” Squire Lawson looked angry and annoyed. “Do you undertake to tell me the law—me, a magistrate?" “No, sir,” replied the bo promptly, but firmly; “I teil you only the truth as it ap- lies to myself; that I am past ourteen, and that if Ihave a zuardian, as I suppose I may, ne will be one of my own choosing.” **And do you then object ta me?’ “T have had no thought a- bout the matter, as yet, sir,’ replied Julian, evasively, who had a strong reason for not incurring the ill-will of tha squire. reason might ba found in the consideration be felt for the bright eyes and
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2 pleasant ways of his school companion and play mate, Maggie Lawson, the only child of the squire. “Tf I had thought about the matter, sir,’’ Julian continued reflectively, ‘‘my mind would have been less likely to have turned to you, sir, than to my father’s old friend, Mr. Haven. “What! old Benny Haven?” exclaimed Squire Lawson, with both surprise and contempt in his tone. ** What does old Benny Haven know about law?”’ ‘**T cannot say, sir,” responded Julian deferentially, making a movement for departure, ‘‘ but he knows a little of most everything, and as I was going away for ashort time, I had already determined on leav- ing the keys with him. Good-day, sir.” Without giving the squire time for reply, Julian moved away leaving him standing in the roadway looking darkly after him, as he increased his pace to a rapid walk. A few minutes’ walking brought him in sight of a large white house, situated on an eminence, and having an appearance of substantial comfort. To- ward this dwelling the boy’s eyes turned somewhat longingly, as if in expectation of seeing Maggie Law- son—for this was the e’s residence. She was not in sight, however, and after approach- ing within a short distance, perha s a quarter of a mile, the boy turned aside at a stile in the low stone Nebo and went off in a path at right angles from the ouse. This course took him across an open field, up a ri.e of ground, toward a wooded knoll, which he reached and penetrated, going through to the op site side, and coming out suddenly upon a shelving terrace of flat rock overlooking the sea, from the seaward side of which descended an abrupt preci- pice of fifty feet or more. An old man, hale and hearty, in sailor’s garb, was sitting on a low stool in front of a rude but comfort- able cabin that formed the background of this ter- race. ae a net and alternately goneng at the bright face of a young girl of thirteen or fourteen years, who was sitting on a coil of rope at his feet. The appearance of Julian on this scene was hailed with manifestations of warm appreciation, not un- mingled with surprise at the knapsack he carried. The old sailor threw down the net he was mending, and the young girl sprung to her feet. ** Hallo! my lad,” cried the old man, in a voice re- resembling the roar of a distant surf; ‘“ whither bound with that ballast?” Julian laughed, and unslung his knapsack, laying it at the old man’s feet; taking his great brown hand in both his own, while the young girl came close and laid her hand on his shoulder with an ex- pression of pleasure. “Tam going away, Uncle Benny,” he said, “‘ and I have brought you the keys of our cottage,”’ produc- ing them as he spoke. ‘Going away?’ gasped the old man at his hoarsest. ig hell echoed Maggie, for the young girl was s ie. “Yes,” said Julian, turning to Maggie; ‘‘and Iam so glad I have met 7 here, where I can say good- by. I was afraid I should not see you.” ‘*But where are you going, Julian?” she asked, while her pretty cheek grew a shade paler. Julian waved his hand toward the sea and the dis- tant ocean, as if he were a sovereign, and there lay his empire. At this moment a voice was heard calling the name of Maggie. The young girl started. “They are looking for me and I must run home,” she said, regretfully. ‘‘ But you will not go to-day } she added. ; “That will depend upon the wind and the tide,” he replied, looking along the coast toward a small inlet where a schooner could be seen loading with Jumber. : “If I do not get off you will see me again, ie,” he added; ‘‘and in any event you will hear from me,” and throwing his arm around her neck, he pressed his lips to ay Og > so they parted. In a moment her light footsteps could be heard, ttering among the leaves, along the wooded path “ had just come. ** And now, Uncle Benny,” said Julian, as Maggie's airy form disappeared from their gaze, “let us go into the cabin; I have something very, very impor- tant to say to you.” CHAPTER II. SOMETHING IMPORTANT—THE OLD SAILOR’S LETTER. Tus interior of the old sailor’s cabin was enough like that of a vessel to well merit that d tion. It was the exact counterpart of the cabin of a ship, even to the ship’s lantern hanging aloft, ere were lockers and cupboards, and bunks; coils of rope, swing-shelves and sideboards; and in addition thereto a big anchor standing in the corner, with quite a lengthy hawser cord around it; an about everything there was an air of neatness that would have pleased the heart of any housewife; for all of which, thanks were alone due to Benny Ha- | ven, for the old sailor lived entirely alone, with the exception of a parrot, almost as gray and hhoarse as himself, and shows equal vitality. This parrot was in @ cireular cage, ha near the door, and knew Julian at once, on his entering, for he saluted him, with, “Hallo! J je,” followed by a wild, ‘‘ Ha! ha!” extraordin in¢ opth and hoarse- ness; which familiar greeting Julia: suitably recog- | The old sailor invited Julian to a seat on one of the | lockers, and with an air of kindly interest told him to, “Go ahead.” ay ‘Well then,” said Julian, ‘‘as I have intimated I - am goin Benny,” to sea; but not quite as a sailor, Uncle e added, as he saw the old man shake his / ie likely I will be able to hear some Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. head rathér gravely. ‘“‘ You have heard me speak of my uncle Kidd—Captain Kidd,” he continued. ‘Ay! often, often, and know’d him too,”’ was the response. “Well then, what do you think of my going out to India to find him?” **T think,” said the old sailor, anxiously—“ but, let me hear what you he i think, Julian.” ‘* Why I think I had better go, as you see, for I am all packed up to start, and have already left home, and am on my way. In fact, I have started.” “Then I think so too,”’ was the response of the old man, visibly brightening at the determination ex- pressed in Julian’s tone and manner, “TI always told your mother that the captain wasn't so bad as they thought him; though his name was a terrible one enough. But, hang it, what's in a name ?"’ 3 aCe NOE in that at least,’’ responded ulian. “ Aylay! nor in t’other one now, for the owner of that was hanged, and good riddance, long ago. But you are going out as Bee Sere passiger, instead of sailor,”’ he added, looking at Julian ringly, and yet with some show of earnest regret. “Yes,” said Julian, reflectively, ‘“‘ but I do that to — time, otherwise I should prefer to go as a lor.” **T see,’’ was the response; the old man brightening under this explanation. “To save time.” _ “You have the money, Julian,” he added, inquir- ingly . es, said Julian, pr omptl y. T wo hundred dol- The old sailor drew out a small box from under the bunk, and after selecting one from several keys, un- locked it. It contained some gold and silver, the coinage of different nationalities. There were Spanish doub- loons, English crown pieces, French Louis d’ors, Ger- man thalers, and smaller coin from the American t. “Tt takes a great deal of money, Julian, to go as an passiger, and I would like to have m ear boy,”’ said the old man tenderly, ‘to be as high toned as any o’ them. Take out of this as much as you will need.” ulian was much affected by this kind offer, but re- fused to take any from the old man’s store, which refusal was sharply contested by the old sailor. But Julian was firm, and the old man returned the money and box to the secret depository. “You can serve mv in a better way now, Uncle Benny,” he said, “‘as I think I am er provided for in the way of money for the present. I want you to be my guardian, and you will take charge of the cated while lam away. It will only be necessary, suppose, to go to the cottage once or twice a woul ing remains as I left it. Will just to see i rips heme J you accept this trust for me?’’ concluded Julian hori “You have been my parents’ friend, and m end.”’ ‘Sartin, boy, sartin,” said the old man with glisten- ing eyes, ‘‘ but there’s no pirates about here likely to board the ee, while you are away.” ““Why, as for that, Uncle Benny,’ said Julian, “Squire Lawson has got himself appointed my guardian, under the mistaken supposition that I was not old enough to choose for myself, and he demand- ed possession." ** And what did you say?” questioned the old sailor, sitting bolt upright, and brushing the scanty hair from brow like a strong swimmer about to dive; “what did you say to his demand?” “T said,” responded Julian, ‘ that I was of to choose my own rks and that if I thought of ——— t would be you.” The old sailor's great. brown hand patted the boy’s shoulder with the gentleness of a woman. Pa boy, “ he said, “‘that’s like you. He gave up I s’pose “Yes, sir, for the time; but I seft him, without eee = words, on the highway and came directly ere.” Uncle Benny nodded his approval. “Should he take any further steps, 1 shall of course know about it,” he added, “and shall give him to understand that you and yours are shipped with me and are under my charge.” nn ee er ene ne tone It was clear, there was a latent ene in the old man, that opposition would ve quickly develop; and Julian thought with much faction, as | looked at him, that his cause could not have bec placed in safer hands. — Uncle Benny paused abruptly in his walk. * What will you make first?”’ he inquired. “New York,” replied Julian, promptly. ‘“ Onc there, I will visit the — shipping offices t ascertain the quickest and ¢ rollin way of reach- ing India. I am im hopes of meeting some one wh: has been out there and who has recently returned. of m) Jncle. Any one his name wo not be ER Ree cnglar—Coptain ‘Ay! ay! ve n aptain Kidd. Who'd ’a’ thunk that old Haven oud have over been inco ing a search for such a piratical name as that? But, my boy, I can help you in this nore than you think. I know a man that’s out there some- where, and @ Big Injun he is, too, to my thinking—a king or queen at least of some of those heathenish countries. He was a mate of mine once, Ned Trus- thim by name; arising, striving, shifty chap he was. | Ned allus said he’d be a Big Injun some day, and I remember the men called him the Prophet of the Larboard Watch; for he was allus a prophesyin at things for himself, like some other people ave heardof. He left the ship at Gibraltar, « eclar- ing his intention of going to Turkey and the East; and if heis out there, he must be a king at least now, for thet was more’n twenty yearsago. | “TH give you a letter to him, Julian, in case you come across him. You are a scholard, my boy, and there’s pen, ink, and paper, in the locker there; take it out and write such a letter as I shall direct. Now then: “To Ned Trusthim, King.” a ‘But perhaps he is not a king yet, Uncle Benny, said Julian, after he had written this address. ** No, that’s a fact,” was the response, and the old sailor’s hands went up through his scant hair again with that gesture, habitual to him, of the swimmer about to dive. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Fa “But he may be a king of good fellows, tinued, with a sudden burst of satisfaction. see Julian?” Julian nodded an assent. “That direction will do then,” continued the old sailor; “ go on. “These by the hand of my best beloved boy, who isn’t my son, nor yet my nephew; but I love im as well as if he were. both. is leaves me stout and hearty, and comfortable on shore, which I never thought to be, and hoping it will find you the same, and a king as you expected, and able to give a help- ——— to my boy, which his name is Ju’ .o Adams; and if you can make him a Prince, I'd be glad, and he’d be well deserving the same. He's going to search for his uncle, Captain Kidd, not the bloody pirate of course. I close these orders by hoping t at with your aid he will find him. “ Signed with the hand of your old messmate, “BENNY HAVEN,” “And witnessed by my boy, “JULIAN ADAMS.” “Have you got it all down?” he asked, after paus- ing a moment. ‘All but the signature,” said Julian. ‘Here is the place for you to sign,” he added, hand- ing him the pen. “Tt’s a pretty stiff flipper for this sort of work,” said the old man, taking it from him and seating himself, ‘‘ but I can do it after a fashion.” It was indeed rather a laborious task for the old sailor, but he accomplished it at last, and BEnny Haven, in thick, broad Jetters, somewhat strangely suggestive of the owner of the name, stood out star- ingly upon tgs a ulian affix own signature as witness, dried oe the document, and put it safely in his ocket. f “T purpose going to New York by the lumber schooner loading at the mill wharf,” said Julian, buttoning his coat and slinging his knapsack, pre- paratory to departure. “I suppose they will sail at the turn of the tide,” he continued, ‘‘and itmust be near that now. I will have to say, good-by, Uncle he con- “ D’ye Benny. “T hate to have hg g0, my boy,” said the old man, as Julian put his hand in his. ‘* Ye are sure, now, it is for the best, Julian, and you have no hesi- tation in starting?” “None, whatever,” said Julian, briskly. ‘‘Thinx how soon I shall be back, loaded with wealth and poner perhaps—and bringing with me Captain Hand in hand they came out of the cabin. “*Good-by, Jule!’ said a hoarse voice, and the parrot noeeee to and fro, and chuckled to himself. “ Good- Ys Poll,” cried Julian in return, as the door closed. A lovelier view than that from old Benny Haven’s cabin the eyes seldom rest upon. Looking south, and to the eastward, only the broad expanse of water, dotted here and there with sails of vessels, and now and then an occasional steamer, met the glance. : Away to the westward, rao the bright margin of white sand that marked the ocean boundary— “The very sea-mark of its utmost sail,” was a low, indented shore, with umbrageous fo ’ gd its deep green with the color of the waters. Near at hand, and extending imland perhaps @ half-mile, was a broad, deep inlet, where a tide-miil in active operation, and a wharf it —geey ened the loaded schooner, of which Julian ha spoken, ready for departure. : Over all the bright sunlight shone richly, giving to every object a glow of warmth and color. ‘ od-by was said, and they parted, not without deep emotion on both sides, and Julian descended by arude path to the beach below. Looking back he saw the old man’s figure, strongly | outlined against the wooded background, and waved | a final farewell. In ten minutes more he was on board the schooner, made his arrangements with the captain, with whom he was ac Snes) 52 and — an hour a ap watching Uncle Benny’s figure, growing less an less on the rocky terrace. as the schooner stood boldly out to sea. CHAPTER IL. THE LAND-SHARK—1N THE TOILS! — voyage to New York was not without inci- en A huge dog belonging to the vessel, with which J iia wan pe ng, made a mis-step on a loose piece of timber and tumbled overboard. — It was the second day out, and quite a breeze was blowing at the time, and the animal would prob- ably heve been lost but for Julian going to his res- cue. {sizing a coil of rope, making one end fast, and spr-nging overboard with the other, the rope spun
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¢—— ——— + i ——+-—— ey - The Sea Serpent. 3 out, and Julian swinging toward the dog fastened it about his neck, and two or three of the crew, who had been excited witnesses of the mishap, drew them both on board, where they were received with much rejoicing. Sometime during the night the schooner reached the city, but Julian remained on board till morning. Immediately after breakfast he bade tarewell to the schooner, and made his way into South street, looking with amazement at the vast forest of masts and shipping of all nationalities that everywhere met his gaze. Disregarding the many invitations of Israelitish dealers in second-hand merchandise and damaged wares of all descriptions to ‘“‘Schtop a leetle!” and | come in and purchase, he pursued his course, look- | ing for some vessel about to sail for the East, any of the vessels had placards, or streamers fly- ing, stating they were to sail for such and such ports, but he saw none for India. One immense vessel, at length, attracted his atten- tion by its bulwarks being so high out of the water and its bowsprit being thrust, like an inquisitive nose, *way up among the business interests of the street. A placard at her fore-rigging was inscribed, in flaming capitals, ‘‘ Up ror Hone Kone anp CHINESE PORTS. . Though her destination was not exactly that for ge he was looking, he concluded to go on board of her. Going up the gang-plank at her side, which was al- most as steep as the roof of an old-fashioned house, he found himself on her deck, and saw that her name, like her destination, was Hong Kong. Julian gazed about him with interest. It was the first time he had ever been on board a vessel of her size. In addition to all the oe of a first-class, full-rigged, clipper-built s ip. she carried two brass —— — or guns, capa le of throwing twelve- pound shot. There was also a swivel gun amidships, to carry twenty-four-pound ball—a formidable weapon. Julian sought out the captain, whom he found a worthy representative of his class, and made his in- quiries, which were briefly answered, and he was di- rected to an India-house, or firm, who were the agents of aline of vessels sailing to India. Julian thanked the captain, and, as he was leaving, he inquired the use\of the’great guns he saw on deck, ““To keep off the pirates, my lad,” said the captain; ‘the Chinese seas are not the safest cruising grounds in the world, and we often meet the Malay pirates swar’ thereabouts.” Julian thought he would like to make the voyage with this captain, for he had an rap A leasant face, and it seemed to Julian this wasa field in which | there might be a chance for distinction as well as adventure in exterminating these evil hordes of whom the captain had spoken. However, it did not lie in the line of his search now. He, however, asked the captain the price of pas- — to Hong Kong. ‘he captain looked at him with some surprise. “Why, my man, I might take you, always suppos- ing our parents willing, for one hundred dollars.” if have no parents living,” said Julian, peel “If youwere only going to ‘India I would go with ou. Ishall see you again, perhaps,’’ he added, as e took off his hat in farewell, and descended the gang-plank. The captain watched him as he passed from view. ** A manly little fellow,” he said, “ and yet with some- thing gentle and almost womanly about him. He re- minds me strangely—strangely of one I thought I had forgotten, and who has probably ppeperen me. Thope the land-sharks not get hold of him.” Julian went at onee to the address given him by Oh ves aa ool ite-looking building opposite was in a solid, granite-loo u op the head of a long wharf, around which clustered thickly dark-hulled vessels of various tonnage. The offices were quite dark within, and were lighted at the back with gas. In that locality, it seemed to Julian, the shipping firms must consider a cheaper commodity than daylight, for no effort seemed to have been made for many years to admit the latter. The small windows, having an outlook on a narrow alley, were so incrusted with dust and weather- stains that it was quite evident that the presiding gees of the place, whoever it might chance to be, never been able to look out through them, A high counter surrounded by a narrow railing, with —— here and there, separated the inmates from the outside public. A dingy place enough, thought Julian, and yet, as he soon learned, from this office went forth an influence felt more than half round the world. A wrinkled face with a complexion like musty et below which was only visible a high, lack stock of an ancient fashion, appeared at one of the openings of the railing and signed to Julian to approach. He did so and stated his business. The man with a parchment face referred to a card ogo the desk, “The Punjab, for Bombay, sails to-morrow,” he said; “the fare is two hundred dollars.” “So much?” faltered Julian. ‘**So little!’ said the man with parchment face, immovably. “ Make up your mind and come again,’ he continued, waving his hand for him to give place to some one waiting behind. — stepped back. Here was an obstacle at the very nning. The | passage-monhey was a little larger sum than he could | ' command, hat was to be done? He went out and walked toward the wharf where | lay the Punjab, and went on board, ev deck and wharf adjacent presented the usual | | bustle and scene of busy activity always more or | less visible just prior to to a vessel’s departure. | still yoy: it were While deliberating what to do, he wondered | | whether they would take him as a sailor or cabin- | boy, and made inquiries, receiving the information | that they were already full-handed, and in any event he was much too smal to go before the mast. He stepped ashore, and as he went slowly up the wharf, he gee, lg eae: would find an India paper at the office of the ijab, and perhaps thus obtain information, possibly, of his uncle, not oth- erwise accessible. He returned at once, made known his wishes, and | | was given copies of the Bombay Times, North China | ao aided in placing on the table. If. Heraid, and other newspapers.: He searched them carefully, and pored for some time over the advertisements and abipptng-late, but Be pack name as Captain Kidd greete vision, a Going out of the office somewhat depressed, and ossible for him to go in some other way than as “‘gen’l’man siger capacity whereby he might accomplish his purpose | —and keep his money, he had gone but a short dis- tance when he was suddenly startled by being ac- costed with the words: “Looking for a chance to ship, youngster?” Glancing at his questioner, he saw a stout, bearded man, ina half- hand out to him, “Going to ship?’ he repeated. “Tf I can,”’ replied Julian. “Where do you wish to go, what port?’ asked the stranger. “Tndia,” said Julian; ‘‘ Bombay, if possible.” “That's lucky,’’ responded the bearded man; “I am the captain of a vessel—a splendid craft—and want a cabin-boy: you are just the chap I am look- ing for. zon pasned me at the door of the shipping office. Ih you within making inquiries about a passage, but you had better go with me and save your money till you get out there, unless you have more than you know what to do with, w isn’t eNO s nid Jutian, brightening h und 0,” sai i ten very much under the influence of this ‘tim Yy proposition, and the air of familiar friendliness assumed by the stranger. “No, sir, it would take all the money I have and even some more to pay my passage in the Punjab,” And involuntarily he put his hands to his breast to to assure himself that his mother’s Bible contain- ing the money, less only the small amount he had paid on the schooner, was still there. ae — eyes were watching him like those of a haw “You have some friends here with you, I sup- | Poste he asked, with affected carelessness. you are sailing in an Indiaman, perhaps you have met him out there,’’ he added eagerly. “Very likely,” said the man coolly; ‘‘I know most everybody out there. What's his name?” “ Captain Kidd,” replied Julian. The man started and looked at Julian keenly from head to foot. = td joking,’’ he said, with rather a discordant laugh. “ Oh, no, sir,” said Julian earnestly; ‘‘ that’s his name. “ Allright, then. But, blow me ifI didn’t think of the old pi— but never mind what I phosgene! I find I don’t quite remember your uncle now, h T must know him, and shall think! It’s such a de- cidedly queer name—smites Smith, and beats Ba- naghar clear out of sight. But, I'll remember him soon, Will you go with me?” “T shall ind be glad to go with you,” said Jul- ao, “Is your vessel one of the same line as the Pun- al ih] The man glanced sharply about him, and up and down the street, where they were walking, batons re- plying, then said, “‘ Yes.” ‘Where does your vessel lay?” asked Julian, de- lighted at Oe eee that now seemed opening. “Over at Jersey City,” was the response. ‘‘She is disc ng her cargo. _I am too busy to go over | to-day, bu’ ll take you with me to-morrow. You can, meanwhile, stop with me. I have a friend who keeps a chop-house, not far from here, and as I was just going to my dinner, come along and I'l] show you where, and you can dine with me.” He led the way up a narrow side street down one or two still narrower and further on into one open- ing into a squalid court, with a dingy house at the further end. Not avery inviting Plates conductor inside this house oor, The man seemed to read what was in Julian’s mind, for he said, “We sailors—here to-day, and away to-morrow, and anywhere next week—are not very ancy a as to our quarters, but we can get as good nners here as enaphene in this port.” ut the piace. that is depres- ugh alow 2 j to eat immediately,” re- plied his new eaploger, and opening a side door, and | giving some orders in a low tone without going in, e turned and said, ‘Come up stairs. It’s more quiet above.” Julian followed ‘him through a dark, narrow passage, and up a creaking staircase, where the air was filled with stale odors. The room into which he was ushered was rather dark and musty, but a flaring gaslight, which was turned up by his conductor, served to dispel some- what the gloominess, ) There was a low, rickety lounge in one corner of | ‘—in some | or costume, who was holding his | place Julian ovens, as he fol- | Soe | the room, a round table and a few chai anxious © | ing at the fly-l da’ . ? with one or two greasy newspapers lying upon the floor. “ Here ~ can = e yourself comfortable,” said his employer; ‘ the dinner will be up very shortly; I will go down and hurry them up; I am getting hun- gry myself,”’ and as he spoke he left the room. Julian unslung his knapsack, and placed it in the corner. He had only time to take a turn up and down the room, and glance once or twice through the broken slats, that formed the blinds of the narrow window, when the man returned. ‘ He was followed by a waiter bearing steaks and hot coffee, with the usual side dishes, which his em- e waiter disappeared, and the man seated him- “Fall to, my lad,” he said; ‘‘don’t stand oncere- mony.” J ulian was too hungry not to avail himself of the last suggestion, and promptly complied, seating him- self spoeite the man. Julian had drank one cup of coffee, and nearly finished eating, when he e conscious of a strange sensation—a sensation as if his senses were apne ever from him. In a vague sort of way it filled him with alarm. He attempted to rise, but se. | sunk back in his seat. He looked at the man helplessly; and in that mo- ment the stranger seemed turned to a serpent, the glittering eyes of which, to the boy’s fancy, were seeking with a dreadful fascination to control his wavering senses. . A voice, barely audible to him, was asking: ‘* Where is your knapsack?” Julian felt mechanically for the strap. “Never mind; I see it yonder.” This man was his enemy. A deep sense ef the serpent-kke fascination and the horror of his situa- tion was growin mn Julian as this conviction asserted itself, and with all the e of bis soul, he made an effort te pony against the helplessness that was creeping over him. The man’s glittering eyes were upon him. The boy again attempted to rise; but in vain. The man seized him by the arm, and with some muttered words the boy could not understand, half led, half carried him to the lounge, and Julian sunk back upon it. His eyes closed. He was ba conscious of en fingers plucking at his breast, and a muttered grow’ like some hyena busy with its prey. . “My mother's Bible,” he gasped, as he felt it being torn from him, And with these words he was dimly sensitive of a terrible crash—a whirl, as if the house had fallen, CHAPTER IV. THE RESCUE—CAPTAIN JAMES, Tue terrible crash of which Julian was thus dimly conscious as his senses left him, was caused by the door of the room being burst violently. open. There was a rush of footsteps—a yell of wrath and fear—a blow, and the treacherous scoundrel bending over the boy was sent whirling against the opposite side of the room, and fell limp and motion- less. abe the tide had suddenly turned, and Julian was saved. “Look up, my lad, look up!"’ cried the new-comer, catching J ulian in his strong arms, and him te on window, which he threw up for the of air. But the effects of the drug administered in the Lo. coffee had been too powerful, and Julian did not immediately revive. His rescuer sinesd him gently back upon the sofa, threw cold water into his face, and stood down upon him with an expression of deep Very easily we recognize him, . He was the captain of the vessel for Hong Kong, aboard of which Julian had noticed the brass alon South He had seen Julian, while passing street, in conversation with the villain who had brought him here—a man whom he instantly recog- nized by the cut of his jib, as pelanging to the class of land-sharks to which he had alluded when Julian was leaving the ay. He aren up Julian’s Bible, which had fallen e hand of the prostrate ruffian, e ‘wo or three bank notes of small denominations — fallen from it, which he replaced between the leaves. “I see,” he said, exam it, double purpose: a Bible and a —Ha! but what He was hold it open in his hands, and It bore this inscription a te: “ From Julia Adams to her son Julian, on his tenth i eees.. silauhes be aso’ loping at aie ‘or some minu e stood loo a as if they a new and strange ._— Could the love of the dead mother for her son found expression in his glance, it would seem to have | and all sense of life and light left him. o,” said Julian; “I am alone in the world with the exception 2f my uncle, who lives in India. If “it answers a | been strongly apparent then. He placed the book carefully in his hy San and turned sternly toward the corner where lay the fallen miscreant. He made a resolute step toward the open window,, and threw back the dilapidated blinds, __ By what must seem a remarkable combination of circumstances, a policeman was just passing the head of the court and was looking that way. The captain. called, and beckoned to him; he promptly responded and came briskly up-stairs. The man on the floor was beginning to recover. “Take this villain into custody,” sald the captain;
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ed and attempted to rob this lad, and “he has d t for my timely interference would have succeed. | ts Take him to the station-house and lock him up- | When the boy recovers I will appear and make s nst him. My name is James—Captain James—of the clipper Hong Kong, of the American line.” ; The policeman stimulated the returning conscious- ness of his prisoner, by the customary cuffs and slaps in vogue with hisclass, assisted him to his feet, and led him out and Gown Maire See a fast hold of him. For none knew better than he that this class of ruffians were slippery customers. _ Dy Captain James continued his efforts in J ulian’s be- half, and finally succeeded in getting him on his feet, and walking him up and down the room, until by de- the confused state of his intellect wore away, and at last his consciousness fully returned. At first he stared about him in a bewildered sort of way, but on the captain’s returning his mother’s Bi- ble, containing the money, that last recollection of those bony fingers plucking at his breast, and of that nt-like fascination that had been upon him, returned, and he was himself again. With strong appreciation of the danger he had so narrowly esca he pressed the captain’s hand with a warmth that found additional vent in tears of hhankfulness. . They left the — together, not a soul being visi- ble in or about the house. The sight of a policeman in this unclean rookery having had the effect of putting its foul birds to in- stantaneous a So prone are past misdeeds to rise in judgment. J aa was still weak, and Captain James found it necessary to support him strongly by the arm as he led the way toward the di where the Hon Kong was lying; but the open air and the walk, an the consciousness of safety did Julian more good than any medicine could have done. The captain took him on board the Hong Kong and into the cabin, where he gave him a glass of wine, ordering him to lie down and endeavor to sleep. Placing his knapsack beside him, and telling him to be perfectly at — and that he would soon return, he Tett the boy to himself. Julian fell into a refreshing slumber, and when he awoke he found the captain eS a. ing him with a tender interest which made Julian’s heart go out to him. He sat up, and at the captain’s suggestion arose and walke about, and after a few minutes, declared tain James smiled his approval. fi e case,” he said, ‘“andif you are —not otherwise—I Se FO PF pon this, Julian, not without considerable emo- tion, proceeded to relate the whole of his little histo- ry. Phe recent death of his widowed mother, where and how she had lived, the property she had left, of his only relative, mesg ng se to be in India, and all a ticulars in reference to his leaving home. Nor did he omit suitable mention of old Uncle Benny, of Maggie Lawson, and even the parrot; stating fully his pur- pose of finding, if he were living, the uncle he had nover seen—in short, all the ho and desires—the aims and ions with which he was setting out on his search for his uncle—Captain Kidd. In connection with this narrative, he showed Cap- tain James the letter of the old sailor to his ancient friend and messmate, Ned Trusthim. The tain read it with an amused smile. “What he says about this Captain Kidd not being the bloody pirate is rather ive,” said Captain James, Teftoctively; “especially,” he added, ‘as connected with your search. Strangely enough, I myself have often thought that a search for the original Captain Kidd, of the places he visited, and of the coast where he buried his treasures, might result in something important. “Then you do not think my search for my uncle foolish or unwise?’ asked Julian. “No,” said the = after a thoughtful pause, “J do not: I believe there is a Providence that shapes our ends, rough hew them as we may, and I have no doubt but there is some purpose in your under- taking, which may hereafter be made a nt. I think you will surely find him. Meanwhile,” he , ‘as you have already discovered, it is not al ther gate for a lad, and a stranger, to carry money about with him, or to make inquiries for pas- sage, or otherwise show that he has a considerable sum; perhaps your experience will suggest some er course.” “ Oh, sir,” said J —_, a ee he wv shining in his eyes, “‘if you co only let me go with you as potest or - some other capacity, I should be and if you will not, I will go as passenger. ‘ou said you would take me for one hundred ol- d e from Ho sendin forbes raynsy then what [shall # Kong to India for less money than have left.” eft. “My lad,” said the captain, ‘I do not want your money, but wished to know whether you still held fast rf your purpose of going. My purser, in his double Zapacity of cuperearge, needs a clerk, at least, I think he ought to have one; I see, by old Benny’s letter, that you write well, for one of your and have no doubt you are good at figu ust the iind of assistant that he ought to have. t do you say to ten dollars per month and found?’’ he ed, with a business air. “I shall acce: t, with ———_ to you, which I hope to show hereafter with acts—more than any mere words can do.” vi well,”’ said the cap ment. I will introduce you to “it is an engage- e purser at once, Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. and he will show you what your new duties are to be, and where you are to take up your quarters, “We will then go and make our formal complaint, for the punishment of that land-shark. He will be made to think twice before he tries that sort of thing ain.’ And with these words, they passed out on deck to- gether. CHAPTER V. STRUCK BY LIGHTNING. Tue Hong Kong was to sail the following week. During the tour days, that ensued, Julian had time tofamiliarize himself with the duties of his new posi- tion, and to write a letter to old Uncle Benny, givin him the name of the vessel, and the port to whic he was bound, and such other iculars as he thought would be of interest to the old sailor, not omitting his adventure with the land-shark—he and the captain having formally attended at the police court, and seen the villain disposed of by a sentence of ten years’ imprisonment. As the time of departure grew near, he was kept very busy. It was a proud day for Julian when they at last weighed anchor, dropped down the harbor, and stood out to sea. Before them lay the broad expanse of water, be- hind them the great city, and in advance the foreign lands he hoped to visit before he returned. Four days they kept upon their course, blest by favoring gales, when Julian saw the captain come on déck one evening at nightfall, and examine the barometer with an beng, Ay face. Up to this time there had n no evidence, to the boy’s comparative inexperience, of an approaching storm. But the expression of the captain’s face, now led him to more carefully scan sea and sky. ’ To — tae ust above p “ ae was a ©) rregular line. e a penciling of light on a dagker background. Tt had an appearance that Julian had never before seen, and he would have asked Captain James its meaning, for he saw he had observed it, but the captain went forward issuing orders; and directly rward the whole crew were actively engaged in making i snug and fast on deck, and stow- ing away and las the movables, in evident antici- pation of a comi ‘tanch ohiy But in sucha ch ship, and with an experienc- ed captain and crew, Julian was rather pleased than otherwise at the prospect. How little did he appreciate what was foreshadow- ed by that strange sky and sea. An hour thereafter it was blowin pcageee Fi another—and it had become a gale, and when night closed, it blew a hurricane. All that could be done for the welfare of those on board, and for the safety of the ship was done. It blew all night, and all the next day, and even Captain James declared that it exceeded in force and continuance any storm he had ever known. Toward night of the second day, it seemed to abate somewhat, and the opinion b to prevail that the storm was over, when the wind suddenly shifted, and a terrible fall of rain ensued, accompanied by the most terrible thunder and lightning Julian ever witnessed. For a time sea and seemed met together in a vaulted arch of intermittent fire, so closely did the blinding flashes succeed each other—while the roar of the incessant thunder was deafening. Nothing that Julian had ever heard could furnish a comparison. He had read of the clash and clangor of opposing armies on fields of battle, of e thunder of artilery, but it seemed to him as if all the cannon in the world disch at once, would be unheard beneath that elemental war. He felt, however, no terror or alarm. His awe and amazement were too great to give place to weaker feeling. Suddenly there was a tremendous crash—a blind- ne tongues of flames that swept over Julian with scorching heat, and but for the rope with which he had taken the precaution to lash himself to the bulwarks he would have fallen. For a moment his senses were involved in Chaos; the whole world seemed split asunder, and en- veloped in es. The ship shook and reeled like a drunken man stagee to a fall; and as Julian’s senses slowly ed, he saw some of the men prostrate upon the deck. What had happened? Before his mind could an answer to this question, a voice forward cried out: “The ship is struck by lightning.” The tones conveyed to Julian’s mind a sense of horrified despair. Julian looked about him for the captain, and di- rectly he saw him hurrying up from the companion- way, and go forward. tterly worn out by the exhausting labor of the last forty eight hours, for he had not closed his eyes in that time, he had gone below to sleep, leaving the deck in charge of the mate. Julian threw off the rope with which he had lashed himself to the bulwarks and busied himself in restor- ing those who were still suffering from the effects of the shock. Some, however, were already beyond the aid of man. Several who had been sheltered about the mast, or near it, were killed outright, and the mast itself had been split and splintered in the passage of the lightning to the hold. ortions of the cargo were known to be combusti- ble, and it was not without dread that Julian re- membered this. What if the lightning, finding no vent, had follow- ed the keel, splintering off here and there, and had set fire to the cargo? It was soon evident this thought was not alone in the boy’s mind, for Captain James aided his efforts in arousing the stunned and bewildered crew, and proceeded to remove the main hatch with a view of ascertaining what damage had been done by the electric fluid. A volume of smoke came pomming out which the draught, created by the ship’s headway, instantly fanned into a flame. The men recoiled with cries of terror and alarm, but the captain’s tones were firm and clear, as he ordered the hatch replaced, enforcing the command by voice and example; but it was a difficult task, The volume of ne and heat that came rolling out was appalling. The effort was crowned with success, however, and the fire temporarily smothered, or confined below. Holes were then bored in the deck, through which water was poured incessantly. The men worked, fired with the captain’s zeal and energy, with Sg? 4 determination for hours. Meanwhile the thunder ceased to roar, the light- ning flashed no more, and the wind began to subside a little; but the deck beneath their feet had grown hotter and hotter. Between decks, it was evident the ship was a smoldering furnace; and in a sort of dry well be- neath the cabin floor, as the captain and Julian knew, were several kegs of gunpowder, for the ser- vice of the brass guns. At sea—at night—on a raging ocean, with moun- tainous billows all about them, a raging fire beneath —no land in sight! It was a situation to dismay the stoutest heart, but Julian saw no sign of fear in the captain. With a calm voice he gave his orders, and with a firm hand he aided in their execution, and under his direction they still continued their efforts, though the smoke and heat had now become far more dan- — than the wind and the sea. But notdong did ey remain. Some one remembered the powder on board and reminded his comrades. It produced an instant panic. All ceased their work at once, and under the leadership of the mate, rushed for the boats. ' In er the captain reasoned, threatened and en- reated. : The impossibility of launching a boat in such a sea would have been ap nm to any but madmen; but they heeded not. ey struggled into the boats, fighting with each other for precedence, lowered and cut adrift. The first two were instantly swamped; the doomed men were swept grerony ee leeward. The third and largest boat fared little better; it was instantly filled with water and vanished away in the darkness, with a few of thecrew clinging in and about her. Julian looked around him. Of the whole crew, but three were left, besides the captain; the purser, the steward and himself. e rudder had been lashed, and almost helplessly they were driving along. A burning ship upon a heaving ocean! The captain went forward with his night glass; Julian keeping close by his side. Suddenly the captain uttered an exclamation, and his anxious countenance lighted FP. “Land!” he declared, ‘‘a coast ! and we are driv- ing straight upon it. Shelter yourself under the bulwark, Julian, with the purser and steward, and keep a stout heart. If the flames do not reach the powder during the next twenty minutes, we have still a bare chance for our lives! CHAPTER VI. CAST UP BY THE SEA. JULIAN stepped back as directed and crouched be- neath the bulwarks. Not another word was uttered. The two men cli g beside him were voiceless, either with terror and apprehension, or more likely a calm resignation. Here and there the seams, in the planking of the deck, began to bubble and smoke. The danger from the raging furnace beneath was evidently growing more and more imminent. With a view of escaping the heat, and the threat- ened peril under their feet, the two men got outside the bulwarks, and lashed themselves in the chain- g of the shrouds. ey told Julian to do the same, but, in this criti- cal emergency, he preferred to be nearer the cap- tain, and again went forward to where he was post- ed on the look-out. He was just in time. He saw looming before them, dim and misty in the gray night-sky—directly in the track of the ves- sel, and so near that he seemed to be almost looking down upon it—a sone tine of shelving sand and rug- ed coast, over which the ocean was lashing i a yeasty surge, The captain turned and shouted to the men, but his voice was not audible ten feet away, and he waved his hand for them to approach. But the sig- wi ge unheeded; and n he beckoned. ile yet his hand was in the air, and his face turned toward them, there came a grinding, grating, crushing sound beneath the keel. The shock threw Julian violen mae the cap- tain, who in turn recoiled against the bulwark, and with the shock followed another crash of broken an instant a portion .Were blown off, and into the air. masts and falling spars, and in of the hatches and pl great volumes of flame lea The masts had fallen to leeward and the moment Julian had regained his footing, he looked for the two men in the chains, but they were gone,
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The Sea Serpent. The captain and himself were alone on the burn- ship. me rs position was every moment growing more and more critical. What could they do? The boy asked himself this question, and looked at the captain, by whose side he was standing; but he was saved the trouble of a reply. ‘There came a burst of thunder sound.” Deck and vessel trembled beneath them for an in- stant. There was a rushing, rising sensation—a hissing, | hurtling sound, and the boy felt himself torn violent- ly from the captain and driven forward, breathless | and powerless, and falling with a great shock. His senses left him. ’ When he awoke it was broad daylight, and the sun was shining down upon his upturned face. He attempted to rise, but at the first movement itseemed as if his limbs were dislocated; he felt stiff and bruised, and incapable of exertion. By repeated efforts, however, his limbs and mus- cles resumed their duty, and he succeeded in getting upon his feet. Me had fallen upon a bed of wet sand which ap- peared to be just above high-water mark. Julian looked around him. Seen in the sunlight, it still ap , as it had from the vessel's deck, a long stretch of barren coast, evidently an island, His first thought was of Captain James. _ He looked eagerly about him, and called his name. There was no response. He called again and " There was no living thing stirring on land or sea! A portion of the wreck, blackened and bare, was visite a short distance out, marking the spot where the vessel had struck, and along the shore were many fragments, more or less blackened, of the ship and cargo, but no oy in of Captain James. ulian’s heart sunk within him. Had he alone of all that crew survived the triple disaster of hurricane, fire and wreck? Could it be? The sun was shining gloriously over all, in marked contrast with the previous terrible night, as if in compensation for the suffering of the past—a glori- ous morning! ‘* Yet that same morn looked on ruin and wreck, And soothed a sea that lifeless swept the deck Of some proud ship, and glorified the wave That landward heaved the mariner’s glassy grave; Playfully rippling, shoaling goldenly o’er Dead seamen dimly drifting to the shore! Terrible innocent morning | ~ > on high, While Ocean rocks them with its lullaby.” Forgetting all the pains of his own bruises in his aa anxiety for the captain, Julian ran along he shore looking among the fragments of broken spars and cargo which come ashore, for the | body he ho et dreaded to find. The fact that he himself had been hurled on shore by the explosion—so far upon the sand, to the high- est level marked by the storm—gave him renewed col to look, and he continued his search. Suddenly his heart _ a great bound—was it imagination, or did he hear a voice calling him? He paused and listened. Was he mistaken? No—he heard it again, faintly but clearly, and ran in the direction of the sound, which brought him close to the surf. ~ A little further along, a cable’s length back from the as if it marked its utmost boundary, was a e of rock. t rose h and precipitous, perhaps fifty to seventy feet, with here and there openings in its front, where the fierce storms of this latitude had made breaches in its wall. Julian ran to the foot of this ledge. Here as elsewhere was visible the amplest evi- dence of the fury of the storm. The ledge itself had been lashed midway to its very top by the crest of the tremendous waves that had thundered at its base. Here, too, as all along the shore, were charre | fragments, and blackened bales and casks that had been driven on the beach and left high out of the r. kK - called the captain with all the power of his lungs. came a faint voice in reply. tering along the face of the ledge, whence the sound seemed to proceed, J saw a wide fissure or opening in its front, almost above him, like the mouth of a cave; a breach made by the sea. It seemed im ible that the Se re could be within that recess, but another and still fainter cry assured him of the fact. It was indeed Captain James imprisoned hard and fast within the fissure of the rock, where he had been carried, with great force, on the top of a heavy wave, which had borne him inward from the wreck. One of his arms had been broken, he informed Julian, and was hanging helplessly at his side, and he found himself unable to escape from the strange place which had been both his means of safety and of his imprisonment. Otherwise, the captain told Julian, he was unin- ured. The sea rege | with wind and tide had left in literally high and dry. Julian reflected for a moment. The fissure in the rock was entirely too high to be reached either from below or above, without me- chanical appliances. He looked about him for the means. nn eae UU EEE SIISISUEI SSUES EERE There were plenty of spars and some cordagt scattered about. Z Securing one of the former, Julian succeeded in | placing it sloping against the rock, with one end in | the opening, and taking a man-rope “can look into the barrels and which he found among the cordage, he shinned up the spar, and but for a timely warning from the captain would have lea inside the fissure, which it ree sloped backward and downward to a considerable extent, till lost in darkness. Wind and weather had evidently hardened the outside surface of the rock, but inside the soft sand- stone formation had been worn away and had be- come so slippery that no foothold was attainable or Following the instructions of the captain, he made a clove-hitch, or loop, which the captain drew close under his arm, and Julian, by taking a turn of the —— around the spar, little by little, succeeded in bringing him up and out to the light of day. He was very pale and much exhausted, but mak- ing a strong effort together, both reached the sand beneath in the sunlight, the captain suc- | tenable for an instant. . But once full cumbed, and fell faint and powerless. A ghastly expression swept over his features, and ne felt with alarm and anguish that he was dy- CHAPTER VI. JULIAN’S DISCOVERY. Dye on a desert island in an unknown sea for want of nourishment! As Julian thought this he glanced about him de- spairingly. His eyes fell — boxes and bales, more or less charred and blackened, which with other merchandise strewed the shelving sand. - Might there not be found nourishment—stimulants ere? With the thought he ran to the nearest unbroken package, which proved to be a case of liquors. He forced it open, and seizing a bottle marked “brandy,” he returned to the captain’s side, and knocking off the neck as the quickest way of remov- ing the cork, he poured some of it down the cap- n's throat. The effect was almost instantaneous. The captain once or twice, drew a breath, and sat up. ‘*Thank Heaven!” cried Julian, pressing his hand. “What! you ans me gone, then?’ said the captain, smiling. ‘‘It is only the exhaustion that is upon me, my boy,” he continued, ‘‘and the pain of my arm that has weakened me. I see you have found some of the stores,”’ he added, looking at the brandy-bottle and taking another dram. “That is indeed fortunate. If you can now find some of the provisions, we shall be still more fortu- nate, and can soon strengthen ourselves toflook about us. Help me up, my boy, and let us ge to higher ground where we can have an outlook. “Tf you will kindly wait, sir, where you are till I boxes yonder, I have no doubt I can find some Leese: which will give us both more strength for the exertion.” “Very well, then,” replied the captain, and Julian — to put his suggestion into instant execu- tion. Fortunately there was no necessity for going far. With a large stone he burst in the head of a stout cask standing near, and found it filled with hams and dried beef, wrapped in paper and canvas bags and in prime condition, Near by was another and smaller cask and a y=" which, when opened, proved to be pilot-bread, bu little damaged, and the inner layers perfectly dry and Ju *s eyes sparkled at the sight of all gat ea vision, for he saw several more similar casks further along the beach. He seized one of the tg cope. 7 of beef, and a hand- ful of the biscuit, and hurried back to the captain, who was also pleasantly relieved by the sight. if they were to starve the time was not yet. They rejoiced together, and ela oy Sg his clasp- knife, J proceeded to slice , and they made a substantial meal. In the absence of water, at the coupes pa F Ape returned to the case of liquors to look ‘or wine. He found a bottle of port and brought it; and this aa substitute served admirably to wash down eir dinner. Both were very much improved and benefited by their meal, as we may suppose. “The question of water will soon have to be en- tertained, Julian,’’ said the ee. “but no doubt we will be able to find plent the hollows of the rocks above, for in this low latitude it rains—as our experience last night shows—with great violence. Meanwhile help me with my broken arm. I must be my own physician, with your help, and bandage it as best I can. Fortunately I have had some experi- ence, for I was wounded in that same arm in an en- for era with the Malay pirates, of whom I have ou.’ With the aid of Julian he arose to his feet and by slow degrees succeeded in removing his coat. The arm was badly swollen and powerless. Julian, under his instructions, made another fly- ing search and unearthed from the ruin a sailor's chest, which, on being opened, yielded the linen for which he was looking, as well as many other useful th ; for a sailor’s chest one, embraces the en- tire domestic economy of a household, and by its aid the arm was soon dressed. Resuming his coat, with the exception of the one sleeve, the captain declared himself, though stiff and bruised, as good as new, and able and anxious to be- gin an Merl ane Wp of their possessions at once. Accordingly they set out, and following the ledge of rock along the route Julian had traversed, and which ran nearly parallel to the sea line, they soon reached bigher ground. For the shore gradually rising, as they followed along the coast, it b them out at last on a level with the top of the e, back of which the ground rose still higher, They made their way to the highest point, from — they oe ee yd pt hoa ng — appeared e about two miles in length, by one or more in breadth, and shaped, Julian thought, something like a fish. From its appearance, the captain thought it had been once a mere 1 of rock, but the sands had been gradually hea against and over it. But its exact location he could not determine without instru- ments or a more careful study. ae it es in the wenice yd xen 7 the si of vegetation, especially at the east end (oppo- gh that where they had been driven ashore), were strongly marked. The captain had never heard of this island, and was quite sure it was not laid down in the charts. That it was out of the ordinary track of vessels, he knew, and, of course, uninhabited, unless perhaps by birds and turtles. ~ How long it would be necessary to remain there the captain could not conjecture, but it behoved them, he told Julian, to make the most of all the re- sources at their command. Everything that had come ashore must be secured and safely stored, the heavy articles where they were, by means of ropes and panting. and those easily carried seonens to the higher grounds. “ At this point, where we now are, if we can secure a sail, Julian, to make us a tent, it would be a good beginning to pitch our camp. The canvas could also do double duty by catching our dri -water when it rains. I can do very little with my broken arm and I find myself very shaky otherwise,” concluded the captain, ‘‘ but I shall improve in a day or two by a quiet. The walk up here, even with your assistance, I find has tried me very much.” “Tf you could sleep, sir,” said Julian, “I think it would refresh you. Let me ror my coat under ou, and you try to rest while I go down and make a ning by finding the material for our tent.” ith the words, Julian stripped off his coat, which had already, as he averred, become a burden to him, and insisted upon the captain using it in the manner suggested, paying no attention to his faint remon- strance. ry careful of yourself,” said the captain, as Julian was leaving him. ‘‘ We are but two,” he con- tinued, ‘‘and must take no risk. We must do but little to-day—with something to cover us, and with what provision we need, we can wait till to-morrow. The tremendous storm through which we have peek ee, that there will be a calm of some uration. Do not stay long,” he added, as Julian was moving awa, Julian said ‘ y, ay, sir,’ and ‘waved his hand in response, and departed. In desce to the beach, he took a different course from the one he had come, one more cireuit- ous, taking him round to the back, or southerly side of the ledge, by which he was able to see more of its peculiar formation. As he advanced he saw that the wali of rock was honeycombed, so to speak, in a number of places. e fissures he had seen on its face extended through—some of them—and they were enlarged from the cavernous ee in front into excava- tions higher up, resembling immense caldrons. One of Le sigh cong yo a ike bichest on a some surprise, for it was the est wu on a level with the top of the ledge at its x test alti- tude. It contained water, but whether or salt, Julian did not determine, though most probably, he thought, rain-water, for it m have been fully sev- enty feet higher than the sea. attention was first attracted to this natural flock of birds rise from its looking im- mense 1, wondering what its depth might he noticed, with surprise and amazement, what looked like a stone stai leading down to the water from the o te side. At the distance he was from it, it appeared like the work of human hands, but he gave it no thought, for this was of course an im: ility; he was greatly interested, however, and with his discovery of the basin, but remembering the work he had to do, he did not linger, but passed on. He found the wa: more difficult when he began to descend by a path to the beach; for the me ok here extended nearly to the sea, and at high water was evidently covered at its lower extremity. He succeeded, however, in clim over the jag- ged rock, rounding the int of the | and getting own on the other side, he found himself not far from the spot where the captain had been so strange- ly imprisoned and saved. Some ‘portion of the sails were found, for they were lashed to the spars, or furled to the yards that had been broken, and gone overboard when the ship first struck. , one of these lay high up—near where Julian had washed, or thrown just as it had been clewed up and furled. Julian unfurled it, and stretched it out to dry, for it was still wet, and he found himself unable to it. e the sail was d , he busied himself bring- ing up articles still within reach of the surf, and in looking for the two men, who had disap thinking perhaps their bodies might have wash ashore, but he saw nothing of them. The sun was hot and the sail soon dried; but even then in his present weakened condition, Julian found it too heavy to carry, but by easy stages he succecid- ed in ing it up the slope to the high point of ground, where he had left the captain,
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Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. He found him asleep and breathing quite regularly, much to his gratification, for he felt this was what he needed more than anything else. Arranging a corner of the sail, by the aid of a small , to throw its shadow over the sleeping form of captain, Julian softly left him, intending to re- turn at once with provisions, including some con- densed meats and vegetables, —— cheese, and jel- lies in sealed jars and cans which he had discovered. ** But the best laid plans of mice and men oft gan aglee’’ says the poet, and he might have added o boys For on reaching the beach, Julian’s mind became diverted from this original purpose for a time, and he became the victim of a strange acci- dent. An accident as nearly fatal as singular. CHAPTER VIII. WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN A COFFIN. ir was late in the afternoon when Captain James awoke. His first glance rested on the saii which Julian had arra to screen him from the sun. “Thoughtful y,’’ he said tenderly; and then as he looked toward the declinin sun, and realized how long he had slept, he wanted up and called Julian’s name. There was no a The boy had brought the sail, but he saw about him no evidence of a second visit tc the beach. The captain’s mind filled with a vague alarm, and uneasiness, and he rose to his feet. With the exception of his arm, in which the pain had somewhat subsided, he was greatly refreshed, but he forgot his own condition entirely, in his new He immediately started toward the beach. The distance was not great, scarcely more than half a mile, and he was soon on the spot where he had been in the morning, but he saw no sign of Julian. Looking along the shelving, shingly shore he saw several huge piles of blackened merchandise and —— of the ship’s cargo, showing that Julian had nm at work industriously, carrying out his sugges- tion concerning the saving and storing of everyting. Yet no sign of the lad himself. The captain called his name in tones which rung loud over the surf and sea. The rocky ledge gave back the only echo to his What could have happened? The captain glanced about him in ——— a y — ae gem ay 4 nee fai Mame other perso effects, ly: y the e of a huge callor’s chest from which he remembered Julian had taken the bandages for his arm. The chest ha‘ evidently been emptied. For what purpose? The captain attempted to raise the lid, but it was fast—fast with its late contents lying outside. What did this imply? Among the articles taken from the chest were two or three broad-bladed knives, chisels, and a small ax Under the impulse of a sudden thought the ca — seized the ax and struck a violent blow at the ock. P. splintered the lid, parted the bolt and he raised e top. Julian lay within, cramped, silent and motionless —a deadly ors on his face. The cap lifted him out, placed him on the pile of linen, and bringing water from a hollow rock near by dashed it in his face. To his great relief, Julian, at length, opened his eyes. In afew minutes more he was able to sit up ‘les and walk about, and at length explain what had a e had removed the contents from the chest with aview of ascertaining its weight and whether he could move it. It then occurred to him, a — idea, that the chest was large enough for his s msi be apartment, being much larger than many berths on shipboard and under the impulse of the thought, he got into it. The lid felldown. The lock like the fabled one of the song closed with a spring, and though Julian made frantic efforts to open it, he was unable to do 50. Alarmed and horror-stricken at his situation, he had beaten the sides, and deafened himself in the cir- cumscribed space, with calls for assistance, till at last he had fainted and knew no more. It had been a strange experience, and one not like- ly tc be forgotten; so commented ioe James, as hand in hand they walked up and down the beach, looking at the different things that had come ashore. But the declining sun warned them not to tarry, so taking such things as they most needed, including the ax, some small spars, clothing and provisions, they returned to their eT ae Working with energy, they soon improvised tent- es from the small spars, set them firmly in the und, and stretched the sail over them and secure- fastened it, inclosing three sides. If not altogether tight, it had the advantage of being s us and water-proof. Into comfortable tent they gathered such things as they had brought up from the beach. Having thus made preparations for a pleasanter night than the last, partook of a light supper, and having returned t to the All-Father for having brought them through so many dangers and a nee and the ca n lay down to rest. Early next morning, Julian was up and out to see the sun rise. He was still feeling somewhat stiff and sore, as also was the captain, but both werein remarkable pitts, when the terrible loneliness of their situation is con- sidered—on a desert island in an unknown sea! While at brealfast, Julian told Captain James of his discovery of the great caldron-like cistern of | stores. water and the birds he had seen rising from it, which the latter heard with much satisfaction. He judged with Julian, that this must be fresh water, as whatever spray might be dashed over the ledge in stormy weather would be insufficient to fill the basin at that hight. The fact, too, of its being aresort for birds, would indicate that it was fresh, and that it was Seldom dry. A very desirable accession to their They would visit it together by and by, said the captain. After breakfast they went down to the beach and brought away more of such things as were ps i to be first needed, bringing out of the surf many ad- eg articles thrown up by the waves during the t portion of the wreck which had been left standing—the bow and forward part of the ship—was still hard and fast, and likely to remain so until de- cay and time should do their work. e of her heavy iron cables had run out and hung over her side, sloping inland, as if in mockery of an assumed anchorage, for so deeply were her timbers imbedded in sand that no anchor would ever be need- ed—were it possible—to hold them stronger. They busied themselves during the forenoon in this manner, and in collecting in piles, as Julian had done yesterday, the boxes and bales, and broken-up cargo, such as were movable. In the afternoon, Julian, at Captain James's sug- — ed the Ae around the point of the ledge, the route he come yesterday, when he made s great discovery, and up its craggy sides to the rock-built cistern. From the side of their Pepeets oy roach they found a sort of natural graded walk 1 gZ up to it, which seemed to suggest that at some former period peo- ple had landed from boats below, and made their we oe it for a my ly of water. hing the top, they were welcomed by anoth- er startled flight of birds, which rose with'a great he air and noise of wings, and flew away sea- ward, “If we only had a gun and ammunition,” said Ju- lian, looking after them, ‘‘ how ay A would be to provide ourselves with game every ay “Yes,” answered Captain James, “but we are hardly likely to find either the one or the other, un- less some box or chest as yet unopened and water- tight, should yield them—which though possible, is hardly probable. “T have seen only the one chest from which I took the linen,” said Julian, in response, “and the big knives were the most dangerous weapons in that, put of the many others on board it would seem im- ena they should all be burned but the one. Per- aps we shall find more among the ruins of the fore- castle if the sea gets low enough for me to venture et ee ted in hi tions b ian was interrup n his eager suggestions by a sudden exclamation from Captain James. They had reached, and were looking down the flight of steps the boy had seen the day previous, To the septath they appeared as rigs had to Julian, as if hewn from the solid rock, and he turned a shade paler. “ Julian,” said he, solemnly, ‘‘I see we are not the first comers on this island as I had though* These steps were made by man.” CHAPTER IX, A STRANGE NIGHT VISITANT—THE TERRIBLE NAME. Tue steps led down into the water. ieee ran down, dipped up some in his hand and It was a little brackish, he declared, looking up, but still evidently rain-water. sorilen “The violent hurricane that has brought us here,” said Captain James, ‘‘has thrown the spray clear over the ledge, which may account for the brackish taste. People have iived here before us,” he con- tinued, ‘‘and this has probably been their reservoir, and a magnificent one it is.” “ But the steps, sir, must have taken a long time to finish,”’ said Julian, ren up ry Spr “No doubt; it is apparent that they are the work of me res, ad ar heavily on his hands and wanted something to do. Some ship- Pp some one who had wrecked sailor waiting for relief probably.” “Tf ships were in neighborhood they would have no difficulty in ge all the water they need ar we are fortunate in respect at leasi—very ortunate. But we must make a careful tour of the island; quite likely these people, whoever they were, who made these steps, and cleared this na 1 cistern, must have liv ere, and,” concluded the captain, “‘ we shall find other evidences of their existence.” “Perhaps it was a haunt for sir,” _ ested J , “and if so, there ht be buried ooki be found here.” “T never ed the freebooters kept much gold to fight over, my lad,”’ said Captain James, smilingly. . Be it is of Sourse uite possible this may Bate been one of their stations or ports of convenience. We can neither ve or disprove that, “Enough of t' however, for the present. Letus return to our tent. Upon our activity now, may de- pend our escape from the island hereafter.’ “T think so too,” said Julian. ‘““We must hoist a signal from the tallest we can erect, for, although, as I judge, entirely at of the beaten track of vessels, some ship like our own may be blown off her voyage, but more fortunate, may have succeeded in riding out the storm, and may pass within sight, We must also gather material for a fire that we may light as a beacon on dark nights; luckily I had some matches in a water-proof safe: in short we must leave no means untried to endeavor to make known our situation.” resent limited | While thus giving utterance to his views on the subject beep | in both their minds, the captain slowly led the way homeward, as the = where they had pitched their tent might be called. That night they sat up a little later than the pre- vious one. | moon was round and full, and shining glor- ously. The heavens were cloudless. The ocean like silvered glass reflected every star in the clear dome about it. The exceeding beauty of the night made both of our castaways wakeful, and they sat and talked for hours—or at least Captain James talked and | Julian listened, for unlike some boys Julian was a good listerer. r He told the boy of the many years of his early life he had spent at sea, of how he had gradually risen to become a part owner in many vessels, how he had retired from active service as a sailor, how he had spent many years in China, Japan, and India, and how finally he had again taken to the sea only the year before with a resolve to live and die on the ocean, Julian could have sat and listened to the captain all night, without a thought of weariness, for there was a fascination about his real life narrative, and a personal interest in his manner of telling the story that was peculiarly attractive. Many times he wondered, as he dwelt on these re- citals of adventure in India and the East, whether his uncle, Captain Kidd, was not like Captain Jam for his experiences seemed to Julian to be somewha' similar. And he ardently wished in his own heart that when he found his uncle, that rich and eccentric relative might be such another generous, whole- souled man as this, From this he fell to speculating on how long they would be compelled to stay on the island, and asked the captain some questions on this point. The captain could not, and would not say; he had evidently formed no conjectures on that subject. He said, however, that for various reasons, he sin- cerely hoped their | clientes. I belenn and no iceberg would be likely to drift as low down as this latitude even if they were in the habit of going to sea in that ion.” The captain walked ap and down with an unusual- ly thoughtful face, while Julian looked about him, e, wild cry? ht uppermost in their min ected on their means of de- endeavoring to find tracks or a= that would indi- cate the nature of the animal, but any strongly marked., without finding
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Just there the shore had a rocky and shingly sur- face, the rocks being flaked off from the ledge, and the sand thrown up by the sea, and being within reach of the high tide, would have obliterated all footprints had there been any. “TY can’t make it out,” Julian at length declared. “T can’t think what sort of an animal it can be—if it has legs it has left no trace of them here.” _ * Allthat menin any circumstances can do, Julian,” said Captain James, ‘must bedone at once. A dan- ger unknown is the more to be dreaded, and I see enough to warn me that we must protect ourselves as strongly as possible from this. We must first look after the stores and provisions; the loose pack- ages and a few small articles we must take to our camp, and those in bulk we will secure b timbers, stones and ropes, as well as we can where they are.’ In aczordance with this poareness they labored until they went to dinner, when Julian reminded Captain ames of his purpose to explore the island. “T had not forgotten it,” said the captain, ‘and we may as well start at once. If there is anything else besides the visitor here last night to endanger our residence on the island, it will be best for us to know it without delay.” This was Julian’s opinion also, and arming them- selves, as best they could, with two knives each, and the small ax, ~y 4 started. They were not long in reaching the east or wooded end of the island, and entered the ve. There were many birds lodged therein of various kinds and sizes, who, startled by what they evidently considered these stranger birds, took wing, whirring away with a great noise, some circling along the coast, and others flying toward the other end of the island, giving the signal flag at the camp a very wide berth, as something new and suspicious, Julian and the captain penetrated this grove a short distance, and were surprised to find in its interior a broad inlet like a small lake, with a narrow opening to the sea beyond. On the north shore,of this inlet, there were sev- eral huge rocks rising steep and precipitous from the water, evidently a continuation of the same ledge — which the island was formed—with the green foliage which skirted the background, and the still, glassy surface of the inlet in front, and the sun just gilding the tops, which were on a level with the tallest trees—these brown, bald rocks pre- sented a fit study for an artist. “Tf we only had a boat here!’ exclaimed Julian enthusiastically, ‘‘what a splendid sail we could have.” The captain smiled gravely. They were standing on the margin of the inlet, its shelving bank of shingle showing here, as outside, = While wishing fe Se -arbaehdinlinimeteukd te ‘ e or a - an,” e@ cap- tain, ‘‘we might as well wish for a ship, for one could anchor here in ease and safety, and in high tide there would be no difficulty in getting over the bar opposite, if indeed at any time.” Yee.” said Julian, ‘and that rock yonder, the lower one I mean, would make a capi wharf ; let us go around to it, please.”’ e captain followed him as he eagerly led the way, but Julian reached it first, and suddenly turned toward him, waving his hat and uttering wild ex- clamations of surp and delight. “What is it?’ said the captain, as he quickened his steps, and in a moment more he was alongside of him. Julian was pointing at something at his feet, by the edge of the rock, near the water. It was a large iron ring, such as is used by vessels in making a through a staple—which staple a driven hard and fast into a hole drilled in the rock. Ring and staple were incrusted with rust, and had evidently been there a century at least. ‘*You were right, Julian,” said the captain, as he surveyed this evidence of past occupation of the island. ‘Others besides you_have ht this a capital wharf, for this inlet has ce y been at some time a *s harbor and anchorage.’ ‘“ Whose could it have been, sir?” As Julian asked the question, still looking about him, he suddenly added a shrill exclamation. Captain James turned quickly toward him. The boy was looking up at the perpendicular face of the tallest rock, and poin upward. Ten or twelve feet above their heads was a name, and figures, done in old English: “CAPTAIN KIDD, 1698.” CHAPTER X. THE SKELETON OF THE ROCK. For some moments they stood in silence, staring upward at the rock and its inscription. A terrible name! How came it here on this solitary island? This was the fame that was in Julian’s mind. But Captain James did not seem especially startled at the discovery. 2 Perhaps the disaster which had overtaken his own stanch vessel and his stout-hearted crew, and his reservation here, left no room for further wonder- ment at the mysterious dispensations of Providence. “You have found Captain Kidd, my boy!’’ he said, at length. 3 Julian turned quickly toward him, “But not my uncle,” he replied. “ No,” said the captain, a tone half ers — assertion ; “the date yonder conclusively shows that.’ ‘“*But I may find him yet; this makes me hopeful.” “Ve very earnestly at the more ’ said the captain, who was looking top of the rock, and examining its The Sea Serpent. aie z sides. ‘“Ithink, Julian,’ he conténued, “there are other discoveries to be made here, That rock must | cur: be accessible; it would seem to furnish a better out- look. Let us see.” Julian followed him around the base of the rock, and they forced their way through the undergrowth of small trees and shrubbery that w at the back. In front, as we have seen, the rock was precipitous, rising with a perpendicular face to the hight of the descent toward the sea. They made their way up this slope till oped found themselves cut off by an irregular fissure in the rock, separating it at the top entirely from the larger half in front—a fissure which might haye been made by some convulsion of nature, or some violent upheaval of the whole island. - f It must have been twenty feet in width, by consid- erably more than that in depth. . une There seemed at first no way of crossing it, till Julian s sted the felling of trees, many of which, the size of a man’s arm or larger, grew in the crev- ices of the cliff. The suggestion was at once acted upon, and two or three of these being felled across the chasm, they made their way over it, continuing their ascent of the rock, and were soon at the top. It was very irregular, one side appearing much higher than the other. There were small trees growing on one side of the summit, which at first effectually hid what was des- tined to subsequently prove one of their most impor- tant discoveries. A closer examination of the higher — of the rock proved it to be an artificial wall, having a rude doorway opening into a small apartment, partially hewn out of the solid stone. Only asmall portion was sheltered by a roof—about one-half—the other half pes apparently been sup- plied by canvas or wood, of which, however, no trace remained, There was a small round window, like a port-hole commanding a view of the little harbor below, an the outlet to the same, as well as the sea beyond, Evidently this had once been the dwelling-place of man. Many of the stones were hewn, some of them had fallen, and all were more or less overgrown with moss. In asmall recess, on the sheltered side, hewn out of the solid rock, like a berth on shipboard, they saw where the former occupant had slept. Yea! where all that was mortal of him still slept, for in this recess were the bones—the skeleton of a human being. Bleached and whitened by storm and time they glared ghastly in the sunlight. Julian, who, boy-like, had rushed eagerly through the low-browed doorway of this apartment, fell back in awe before this revelation of the past. Captain James’s face retained its usual tranquillity. He would not show to Julian the discouraging aspect this gave to their hope of escape from the island. ‘“Who could he have been?’’ asked Julian, going around and looking in at the small window. “Tt is useless now to toe said the captain, ““whether he dates back to the year engraved on the rock, or whether he was a castaway, like ourselves, at a later period; it would be impossible to know without further discoveries.” ‘Tt may be he was marooned. A careful search may furnish more particulars of his history.” Julian was already looking about him. On the very highest point of the rock he discover- ed ahole which must have been drilled with infinite labor, probably for the purpose of holding a flag- staff or signal pole. : The area of the whole top of the rock was not much greater than that of a large house, and Julian did not take long to examine it; meanwhile the captain inside had made a further discovery. Beneath the skeleton was a movable slab, wherein, no doubt, would be found, he whatever treasures or information the unfortunate had left be- hind him. ras Julian was for new discoveries, he hesi- tated now. He asked the captain if it would be right to move the bones. “Ce ,” was the mse; ‘‘ we will come to- morrow, b a spade, and give them burial.” “They must have been here a long time,’ said Julian, ‘‘ for with the exception of what seems to be the metallic buttons, there is not a fragment left of anything he wore.” e ca , who had come out and was walking up and down outside with an air of abstraction, made no immediate a “Tt is growing late, ulian,” he finally said, ‘“‘and we must return to our camp.” As they were returning, a more careful examina- tion of the chasm in the rock revealed niches, cut for the hands and feet like a narrow ladder or staircase, hewn in the side of the rock, difficult to any but a sailor, in getting down or climbing up. They descended this way, as it made the distance much shorter, and in a ute more were standing ont — been this man,” said Julian, as th must have n t) as they set out on their return to camp, ‘‘who made the stone steps at the t natural cistern.” ‘No doubt,” said the captels, thinking how hope- less was the prospect of relief when this man’s long imprisonment here was considered. For it must have taken years to have accomplished that work. The extent and surprise of the discoveries just made, of the skeleton, of the rocky dwelling, and of this having been a haunt of Captain Kidd—the world famous Kidd—drove from Julian’s mind all thought } | — = aligateeahaaries i They had nearly reached their camp before it oc- to him, and he mentioned it to the captain. “T had not forgotten it,’ was the response; “ in- deed it was strongest in my thoughts when at the top of the rock.”’ ‘What do you think it could have been?” asked Julian; ‘‘ not turtles nor birds?” “No,” said the captain, ‘‘ whatever it is it does not | come in the day, but makes its visits in the night- tallest tree; but at the back it sloped with a gradual | | Julia: time.”’ “Tf it were something dangerous to us,” said thoughtfully, ‘‘would we not be safer our- selves living at the top of the rock, eepaceey as that chasm would keep almost anything from reaching | us—like the moats of some old castle?” “Thave already thought of that also,” said the captain, ‘and to-morrow we may put itin force. It will be a bright moonlight evening, and nothing is likely to disturb us to-night, at least not without my knowing it,’ he added, in a low tone to himself. After supper they sat up and talked till rather a late hour, ason the previous night. The captain going out several times to look at the sea and sky, and gaze somewhat anxiously toward the east end of the island. Though they listened attentively from time to time they heard nothing of the sound that had been so ominous, and wondering drowsily what strange, fe- rocious thing it could have been, Julian fell asleep, and in his sleep had a singular dream, CHAPTER XI. JULIAN’S DREAM—THE TERRIBLE EYES. Ir was the first time he had dreamed of home since leaving it, and it was astonishing how vividly the whole scene came back to him. The old homestead, the house wherein he was — the ever-changing sea, upon which he had so often g § He looked in expectation of seeing the old house lonely and deserted, for even in his dream he re- roeee. Feone he had Jeft it, but to his surprise he saw the rooms lighted up; figures were flitting to and fro, and si faces he could not recognize looked from the old, familiar windows. . While he was wondering what this meant, he saw the well-known fi of old Benny Haven, but look- —— er, coming vigorously down the roadway. e walked like a man aroused to unusual energy, like one naving a clearly defined p in view, He went straight toward the house and had nearly reached it when the cottage-door opened from with- in and Squire Lawson stepped over the threshold. His brow darkened at the sight of Uncle Benny, but he took two or three. hasty steps forward and in a moment they were standing face to face. _ Though Julian, in his dream, in defiance of all po- liteness, strained his senses to the utmost to hear what was said, no word came to him. But that both men were angry and excited he could easily see, for their hands were clinched and. their gestures violent—particularly those of the “Whi ile Julian, in his dream, was wondering what the issue would be he saw the airy figure of a young - gir come running from the white sea beach, where e had so often walked, and hurrying toward the a men, she appeared to utter some remon-. rance, But the angry disputants heeded her not. How well he knew that lithe figure! Not even in a dream could he forget it. It was Maggie Lawson. She was yet a dozen paces away when 7 Lawson raised his heavy cane, and struck old Ben- ny a violent blow. It made Julian recoil in sympathy even in sleep. The lion-like nature of the old man was at once pe and cae “payne activity that a have been su ng even a younger man, he seized the Squire by the throat, s. g him to and fro like a man of straw, and hurled him with one final effort prostrate to the earth. Maggie threw up her hands with a cry of terror and so intense was Julian’s sympathy with the ac and actor that he uttered a loud cry. That cry awakened him. i He sprung to his feet confused, bewildered, amazed to find it all a dream. ae his oddonal £ rise, he was captain sitting up an n ooking out of the opening in e? = as if — i ‘4 if ulian’s outcry he sprung to his feet and com- ing toward him seized his band. ; A dream! a dream, my boy,” he said, soothing- y. phe , said Julian, dra’ a long breath, still looking about him as if he halt-expected to see Uncle Benny and Maggie again, so vividly did they appear to him. “Try and sh ” continued the captain. “I find I am a little restless myself to-night, and will walk up and down outside.” He parted the canvas, which served for a doorway, and went out. ee lay down again, but for some time could The vividness of his dream, the remarkable dis- tinctness with which it had all come to him—like a picture upon the wall—had turned his thoughts in a new direction. _ He was not yo agree but he began to wonder if ina dream like this there a be much truth; and he sought to recall mati at home, and to think what transpired from the moment of his leaving there. He wondered if the Squire had attempted to en- of that strange, wild cry they had heard there the | force his authority as guardian—if he had actually previous night. taken possession of the homestead—and if old Ben-
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eS Beadle’s HalfDime Librar ny would permit him to do so; and then he fell to wondering about Maggie, whether she would be blamed for visiting Uncle Benny so mutch, and if the | accident of his meeting her at the old sailor’s would | be considered an offense, and finally he fell asleep. When he awoke it was hardly yet day. He lookee for the captain but he was absent. He listened for his footsteps; but only the sound of the distant surf, and the waves rolling in on the beach, came to him. He arose, dressed and went out of the tent. The bright glow on the eastern horizon showed that genial day was breaking on land and sea. He walked all around the tent, but saw nothing of Captain James. inking that perha ge basin for water, idway toit his attention was attracted by a vast | quantity of birds that were filling the air with their | cries. They were hovering over the cliff, coming up from below with great velocity, and darting down again with equal force. Their movements were so unusual that he changed his course and descended to the ledge, coming out to the face of the cliff in that direction. To his surprise the birds did not appear to heed his | approved’. but continued to dart back and forth with eé same discordant cries. Wondering what the explanation of this could be, Julian approached the face of the cliff, which was here ge and looked over. At first he saw nothing unusual. But ten or twelve feet below him was a round hole in the face of the cliff, perhaps two feet in diameter—one of the many fissures peculiar to the ledge, but rounder and smoother than any he had ever seen. It was toward this opening in the rock that the birds seemed a all their rage and Sewgi Something must be in there Julian thought. What could it be? some wild animal? A thrill of dread, as he remembered their defense- less condition, swept over him; but Julian was brave, as we know, and thought wisely, that a danger known could be far more easily met than one of which he knew nothing. ir he could only see what it was, he said to him- self. He lay down on the ery edge of the cliff and stretching himself over as far as he dared, strove to peer into the darkness beyond the yo x In this endeavor the birds seemed to recognize him as an ally, and ceased a moment their wild cries, hovering about in such numbers and so near that a pened sweep of his arm would have brought down ozens. For a minute he gazed down steadily into the fissure, but could see nothing but the grayish brown of the slimy rock. But, suddenly, something at the bottom of the fissure seemed to move. Was it imagination? ‘fe looked again, and slowly from out the back- round of duskier hue, he saw two glittering eyes ~ xd upon him with a terrible ~ deimaie glare. jfe quivered from head to foot. A cold shudder ran through him, jé recalled with horrified intensity the fascinating, serpent-like eyes in the den of the land-shark, Of that terrible struggle to retain his consciousness at that time when he felt those long, merciless fin- gevs plucking at his breast. What terror there was even in the remembrance. He sepook like one in an ague, and nearly fell from the cliff. Only by the strongest effort did he recover his equilibrium. e succeeded in ee his feet, and without a lance behind, he ran at full speed for the tent. Not Fil he was safe within did he draw a long breath, and even then he looked out as if half expecting to see those terrible eyes coming the slope. He looked about him for the captain, but he had not yet returned. Where was he? Had he a to the skeleton rock, and if so should he follow him? he had gone down to the ulian went in that direction. CHAPTER XII. Yn CAPTAIN'S VISIT TO THE WRECK—THE DESTROYER. Hap Julian been less excited by his discovery of the saurian, reptile or beast, whichever it might be, that had so startled him, and looked down along the shingly beach below, where they had left the stores, lie would have seen the confirmation of a visit from the creature still more devastating than that of the me previous. oxes and casks were crushed into splinters and their contents scattered, and even the stout cans containing preserved meats were broken and some of them emptied. He would also have seen, had he looked behind hhim when he ran, Captain James standing on the broken ery we of the dismantled wreck, waving his hand to him warning 5. for the captain had made an earlier discovery t J po A discovery the fear of which had been in his thoughts all the day revious—had troubled him < gomgare aes 4 when at the rock after finding the skeleton— had kept him wakeful and watchful all the nit, For he had discovered the cause of that strange cry, and what it was that had wrought such havoc among their scanty stores. Agreeing with Julian in the po of fire-arms —pistols at least, being found on board, the captain had taken advantage of the low tide, and his wake- fulness, to make his way out to the wreck, and while there had made his discovery and found his retreat | sboreward cut off for a time. | volvers and ammunition in his But he had been more than repaid otherwise for his labor. Quite a portion of the forecastle was still remain- ing, though, of course, charred and blackened, and here he found two or three seamen’s chests. A search of these revealed many things likely to men should their stay on the island be pro- onged. Among them he found what he was now most | anxious for—a double-barreled gun—one barrel rifled y. “What do you make it out to be, sir?’ asked Ju- lian, as they went along, thinking of the two terrible eyes he had seen. “It can’t be a wild beast—is it an - alligator?” for ball cartridge, and a pair of heavy navy revolvers. | He was fortunate, too, in finding ammunition for | these in a copper, water-tight flask. Placing the re- ckets, and with the gun slung upon his shoulder, the captain was about eaving the wreck when he discovered the presence on the beach of their mighty visitant. To have ventured ashore then in the moonlight would have been madness, and he resolved to wait quietly till the — of the moon, and the dark hours preceding the dawn, should give a better hope of escaping observation. But wearied out he fell asleep where he was, only awakening just in time to see by the xouing daylight Julian running from the cliff. And now, at every hazard, he determined to land at once, for Julian, it was evident, had discover- ed the monster, and would be doubly alarmed at his absence, Since he had come out to the wreck the tide had risen to the full, and landing was much more diffi- cult. But Captain James was not the man to hesitate. With his weapons placed easy to his hand, the cap- tain descended to the float—one of the hatchways— and noiselessly paddled along the shore till he was ee the camp where the distance was much less. e landed and hurried up the slope, being met by Julian, who had grown much alarmed, as he had an- ticipated, at his absence. At sight of the double-gun Julian uttered an excla- mation of delight, only exceeded when the captain took the revolvers from his pockets and presented him one of them. “Oh, sir,” he gasped excitedly, ‘“‘we have imme- diate use for them. Are they loaded?”’ “ They are, and we are that much better off than we were. Your suggestion about searching the wreck was a good one. I felt yesterday it was, perhaps, our only chance of safety—either that or the isola- tion of the skeleton rock.” “You know, then,” said Julian, ‘‘ the terrible dis- covery I have just made?” “T do,” said the captain, ‘but even with these weapons we must take the enemy at a disadvantage, or we shall be powerless. We may cope with some danger even-handed, but not with it.”’ “* Now, then, isthe time,” said Julian, eagerly. ‘“‘I looked right down upon it, sir; such terrible eyes. In- deed, sir, I could see nothing else.” “All the better,” said the captain; ‘if we can still see them, it will be our best opportunity. Come! but “* i= ty re eeerty : and proceeded to load e out theamm on, Gy) both barrels. He then made another examination of the pistols, and then set forth by the route Julian had taken. By this time the sun had risen and was shini b tly, sending long lanes of shimmerin light far over the sea, and t' pping the waves with little on of burning gold; but ip meoelk we was not upon e sun nor as they advanced. He was looking ale Shinar ae lege, he said abruptly. “ Wha e are gone, sir,’’ he abruptly. t oes ane mean? ” said th tain, quick means, a e captain, en- ing his steps, Phat Their enemy Pires pores has taken his departure. Let us see.” They reached the cliff, the spot where Julian had been, and, as he had said, the birds were gone. , Le noiselessly they approached the verge and 00 over. Those terrible eyes were no longer visible, but far out to sea, beyond the pas of rocks, there was a long line in the water, which cut the rippling waves, and from that direction came an occasional discord- ant cry—the same they had heard in the night. Julian turned toward Captain James, to call his at- tention to it, but he had observed it. ‘He is off for to-day,’’ said the captain; ‘‘ we can rest in peace till the next tide. He is sure to come 3 ,,No wonder we find no living thing on the nd. ‘*The poor fellow at the top of the rock must have led a terrible life while he lived; but for the rock in- deed, and its isolation, his existence would have been brief. For us, we are ee to cope with it; but we must have all the advantage possible besides. It will be a battle to the death, whichever ‘* We must begin by removing our stores to the to of the rock,’’ concluded the captain, “or we sh soon have have none left. See what the monster has eaten and destroyed already,”’ he added, look- ing down toward the beach. ‘Would it not be better, sir,”’ said Julian, “ to go on board the wreck, and take up our quarters?” “Not to remain,’’ said the Captain, “ as it will be liable at any time to break uP; ut to-night we will take up our pees there, if on reflection it seems desirable, and watch the enemy.” “But why not make it our fort, and attack him from it?’ asked Julian, eagerly. The captain smiled gravely, and shook his head. “Not strong enough as it is,” he said, “but it might be strengthened. We will see. But’ let us re- turn to breakfast. This watching and fasting and anxiety has left me very hungry, and a boy’s ap titeis always good, I believe, eh! Julian?” concluded the captain cheerfully. Julian assented, and they retraced their steps. .taken with him all the ready mone “No,” said the captain if marking the effect of his words. mous sea-serpent!”’ CHAPTER XII. UNCLE BENNY TO THE FORE. DREAMS are not always true, nor on the other hand are they always false! So wrote some years ago a well-known author, whose wide range of experience and keenness of ob- servation gave him an air of authority; and in the case of Julian’s singular dream, these words may have application. For something had actually transpired at home very similar to what had been reproduced in his vision. No sooner had Squire Lawson definitely learned of Julian’s departure, than acting on the authority he held as the boy’s legally qualified guardian, he pro- ceeded to take possession of his property. The first intimation of Julian’s peerees was con- veyed to him by his daughter Maggie after her return from the accidental meeting at old Benny Haven's. That the squire’s state of mind at hearing of Ju- lian’s departure, or running away, as he called it, was not a pleasant one may be inferred from the fact that he punished Maggie for bringing the in- formation, by locking her up and ordering her fed on bread and water for forty-eight hours, as if she had been an accessory before the fact. ——— conducive to this wrathful state of mind was no doubt the supposable fact that Julian had of the late seem Squire looking at him steadily, as “Tt is an enor- widow Adams—upon which it woul Lawson had looked rather gloatingly. That the boy would come to no good, and that he would never return, the squire did not hesitate to as- sert; but in this, as in some other cases, it is not un- likely that the wish was father to the thought. At any rate he ode ssession of the property, secured a tenant for orthwith, and before Uncle Benny | Haven was aware what was going on. they had e | taken full possession, and when | make a final attempt to secure legal recognition as Julian’s guar- dian, as being chosen by the lad, he found himself laughed at for his trouble. Julian’s declaration of choice not having been made before a m rate, had no validity in law, conse- quently the old sailor found himself powerless to act in Julian’s behalf. This did not prevent him, however, going to Squire Lawson and protesting very strongly against his roceedings, to which oe the squire merely ee and snapped his fingers in derision, using* rather Contention language, finally ordering Uncle Benny out of his magisterial presence. By this time the lion-like nature of the old man was aroused, and he resented both the words and the manner of their utterance in a manly, if not wholly magisterial manner, which left the squire prostrate and meng at the nose on the floor. Hurrying home with the step of a young m we 3 oF arom Uncle Benny found an arriv at the cabin. It was that of the letter Julian had written him, stating his ——- to sail in the Hong Kong, his en- counter with the land-shark and other matters. And while he was reading the letter for the sec- oe time there came another arrival—that of Maggie wson. She brought the information that the had me in t excitement for a constable arrest im, and her love for the old sailor, and her fear of _ might happen, had brought her swiftly with e news. But the old sailor was now fully aroused, and as he expressed it, alive from clew to earing, and not to be caught napping. Had he nm thi years younger, he could not have proceeded with greater celerity or more delib- erate calmness than now, to carry out the purpose he had in mind. These two arrivals, he told Maggie, decided his course, and he proceeded at_ once to pack up a few articles in a small bundle fora porary absence. : He showed e the letter from Julian, and the messages the sent to her, which made the young girl glow with delight. But her eyes sud- denly fiiled with tears. ** You are going to him, Mocei ga al tg eh ‘That is m e Maggie,” dec eo r i Neliberation, sailor, with free complet: as he spoke the filling of a large money-belt from his world.”’ ‘Oh, if Icould only go with you!” cried Maggie, clasping her hands, = “There is no reason that I know why you can’t, Maggie,” said Uncle Benny, “except, of course, the objection of the old frayed snifter, the squire, and he’s only your step-father, at most, who mar- ried your mother for her money, and she died a year after with his treatment, as everybody knows, = wouldn’t mention it,” he added, half apologeti- cally. “No reason for zon not going if you wish except that,” continued the old sailor, completing his pre- parstory: packing up, laying down the bundle on a ocker, and taking her hands, ‘ Why, how has the old shark been treating you lately?’* he questioned,
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The Sea Serpent. Her eyes filled again at the picture this question conjured up. ‘Rather cruelly, Uncle Benny, if I may tell oe the truth. He kept me locked up for two days after Julian went away, scolding me very much for my visits here, and threatening me severely if I came in future.’ * Ay!” said the old man, “it’s as Ithought. Then why not go with me, Maggie. If.I have no legal right over Julian, me loving him as I do, and he ear- nestly requesting it, then the squire certainly has none over you, ae ine as he must, by the token of his unkindness. on’t see why this rule won't work bot ways. Can you?” “Oh, sir, 1am se young, and without experience, that I don’t know what to think,” “No matter, I know—and if you choose to go along with me you shall be my grandchild, Maggie, and the heir to al! I leaye behind me.”’ “Oh, Uncle Benny, you don't expect to die?” “Me! DoTlook like dying? It’s allus the other chap that’s a-going to die! mean to live seventy or eighty years yet, and shall probably beat old Parr, He was a hundred and fifty-six, But I mustn't stand swinging my jawing-tackle here; time’s pre- cious! Come! It will be a fine trip for you, and you will see the world. Soon's I find Julian I shall bring him back here, and with his authority we will rout the old hippopotamus in his own law-jingle! Will you go? say the word, Maggie.” **T will,” she declared, decisively. “Good my lass! You are already in the proper toggery, and we have only to start.’ ; e seized the small bundle from the locker and threw 7 the door. **Good-by, uncle,” said a hoarse voice, that star- tled them both. “Why, blow me, if it isn’t old Chock-a-block!”’ de- clared Uncle Benny, recovering from his start of sur- rise, and looking at the parrot. ‘I can’t leave him. He must go too. You can take charge of him, Mag- gie, having nothing else to carry.” He took down the parrot, in its wire cage, and handed it to the young girl, picked up the bundle he had laid down, Closed and barred the single window of the cabin, and they came out togeth +r. “It is very lucky,” he declared, as Le locked the stout oaken door behind him, and gery the key in his pocket. “ The tide is at the full, and the schoon- er yonder just ready to sail. We must be nimble now, M e,” he added, taking the route Julian had taken leading down to the beach below, almost as briskly as Julian himself could have done. They were not a moment too soon, for the schoon- er was already casting off her shore-lines as they reached the wharf; and no sooner were they on board than she shook out her reefs to a favoring breeze, and with every stitch of canvas drawing be- low and aloft, stood seaward. ‘They reached New York, as Julian had done be- fore them, without accident. It had been years since the old sailor had been in the great city, but no land-shark was likely to make any attempts to tackle him. 'o Maggie, however, the sight of the famous me- tropolis left a more indelible mpression, if possible than it had upon Julian; but under the pa apg care of the simple-hearted old sailor, she felt no ap- prehension, They went at once to the pier of the Hong Kong. They were too late by some hours; she already sailed, and all hope of meeting Julian here was at an end, Uncle Benny did not hesitate. Men of his mold never do, He looked about him for the first vessel to follow. A ship lying at a wharf adjacent was getting ready me. fae rene was flying at her fore. It was the Punjab. It will b®remembered she was to have sailed the next day after Julian’s arrival. skipper of A feanmpots that wea coming isto the lar rofa was co n = bor they a down the lower bay had car- ried away a ion of her bulwark, and the bee od returned to her wharf to make examination for fur- ther possible damage. Happily, however, it had been no more serious, and she was now ready to sail. As the Punjab was up for Calcutta, as well as Bombay—and he could find no other vessel going di- rect to Hong Kong under some weeks—Uncle Benny concluded to join her. He ons A went to the Shipping Office of the company that Julian had ae uced his mon- ey-belt, which he had secured about his waist, and took tickets for himself and grandchild, as he termed Maggie. ‘For the first time in his life, pro’ ,” he told the man of parchment face, confiden' , “to go as i gen’l’man ey were mptly on board, taking the with them, which é itself at once a fam fa- vorite by saluting the men on deck, with: * Ahoy! ahoy!”’ at its very hoarsest. The Punjab sailed without further loss of time, and that afternoon from her deck, Uncle Benny pointed out to Maggie a me a hom which he said represented the New Jersey nds. here were only afew passengers on board; amo’ them a Japanese lady with her daughter, a girl ts) about Maggie's age, who had been brought to Ameri- ca irk ag a mere y to grow up there and be ed- uca Maggie thought she had never seen such a beauti- ful young girl. She could speak several lan, besides her own, and could sing like a fairy. Her mother, too, was a very gracious lady, though very stately, and was exceedingly handsome; and 9 Maggie learned, without any surprise, that she was a princess in her own country, and that there were some political reasons why she had been absent so long. But there had been a change of rulers—a new Mikado, Tycoon, or whatsoever the name of or rank of the chief might be, and she was now going home to her former residence by way of India, The name of the lady, Maggie also learned, was the Princess Osaeca, and that of her daughter, from whom Maggie derived all her information, Jesso. Before they had been two days at sea, Maggie had formed a deep attachment for this —— girl. Happily she herself was exempt from the distress- ing owe of sea-sickness; and Jesso was affected but slightly, while her mother, the princess, was very ill. Here M es sea-coast experience enabled her to be of much service, for although the princess had attendants of her own, they, like herse f, were sea- sick. Besides, had they been well and experienced their ways were not the simple, artless ways of Maggie, nor could their touch of gentleness equal that of the considerate young girl. As a natural peer | a 4 the princess soon loved her, and as she grew better, and able to walk about, she questioned Maggie and learned the particulars of her short history. On hearing the s , Which in a measure involved that of Julian and Uncle Benny, and the romantic and interesting search for his uncle, upon which the lad had entered, she sent for the old sailor, and a long conversation ensued between them. From this interview with the princess, Uncle Ben- ny came forth looking somewhat graver, but still with an air of profound satisfaction. The parrot, which had been given its liberty in ac- cordance with former usage, was taken in to see the princess at her a gee and she was much amused with its monosyllabic replies to certain questions— questions, however, of rather a stereotyped ordery it must be admitted. It was noticeable that in the presence of Uncle Benny Chockablock invariably grew hoarser, as if he felt that the voice of the old sailor possessed far greater ay ee than any other, and it was desirable to imitate teacher in manner as well as words. After old Benny's interview with, the princess, he was very often on deck with one of the young girls on each side of him—and he soon came to be con- sidered as a sort of guardian for Jesso, as well as for Maggie. And so until they were met by “a wave” of the same storm that the ae encountered, the good ship Punjab, for Bombay and India ports, sped on her course, CHAPTER XIV. THE FIGHT WITH THE SEA SERPENT. On their return to the tent Julian and the captain made their breakfast, which was somewhat less lim- ited as to quality—thanks to the canned meats and vegetables they had found with the ship's stores. ~ After breakfast they discussed the question of car- ry the war into Africa, as the ca n termed it, whether they should make an attack on the sea me or wait to be attacked. ulian had heard of these terrors of the ocean, but he had never expected to see one or aid in its de- struction, Meanwhile his opinion was that they could not be- gin too soon. With the weapons they now had he thought that the conquest of the monster would be com tively easy. This enthusiasm leased the captain, and it was — to begin at once preparation for the con- ct. Whatever else they had to do could be done after- ward, but there could be no feeling of safety in the present condition of affairs. The first thing to be done was to go off to the wreck and strengthen its resistive capacity by every means in their power. So declared Captain James, and as may be be- lieved, Julian was not slow to coincide with him in Othe took: with them th d ey em the saw and large auger. and going down to the water's edge, where lay the float the captain had used, they got aboard and pad- dled out to the *k. With the aid of the carpenter’s tools they had brought, as soon as they were on board the hulk, they proceeded to replace that portion of the fore- castle bulkhead and planking t had been blown out or burned. Fortunately the loose timbers and planks lying about afforded plenty of material for purpose and ¥ placing mbers crosswise and endwise, and doubl planks, they succeeded in converting the forecastle into a strong room with almost the re- sistive powers of a bomb-proof. Here and there they left openings the size of one’s wrist, or smaller, through which weapons could be thrust. And after the deck overhead had been strengthened by transverse timbers, Julian bored with the large auger a series of holes commanding an easy view of the and of the wall of ledge in front, and of the sea below. The hulk lying bow on, this was not difficult. By the time all this work of preparation was com- pleted the day was nearly at an end. They had made two or three visits to the shore, and now made a final one to bring off such things as poe wanted for the night, including water and pro- on. A careful examination of sea and , and the di- rection of the wind had satisfied Cap James that no storm was likely to spring up. They ate their supper, saw the moon rise slowly and gradually, with a light almost like that of day, and they retired within their strong fortification. “With the advantages we now have, my boy,” said the captain, ‘‘we shall give him a hard fight. He may be here ay or may not until the moon is low down; proba ly may not come at all. In any at it will only be necessary for one to watch.” ‘*Let me be the one, then,” said Ey rly. “ As you like,” said the captain. ‘* But Seda saod sleep last night, right here; though by no means so well sheltered and protected as now, and am fee fresh. My arm, too, has ceased pen me is evi- dently doing well. Still, if you like, you tan begin the watch. If you see anything waken me, and, in any event, call me when you get sleepy, or say about ey RE > He disposed his limbs comfortably, and lying down, was soon asleep. Moving softly about from one improvised porthole to another, J n alternately watched and listened, but for a iong time saw no signs of any living or creeping thing. To his ears came the soft rippling of the waves, and far out to westward-the dull roar of the surf. Time passed away, and Julian was beginning to w drowsy, and remembering what the captain fiad said, he Fert it to be his duty to awaken him. Yet héhesitated, and rubbing his eyes took one more look at the beach. The whole of its dark line nearest to him seemed to be moving. Or was it a wave of unusual size? He looked again, and his sleepiness vanished at the in- stant. It was the sea serpent! The terrible creature, eighty, ninety, or perhaps a hundred feet in length, was just drawing itself out of the water. Three noiseless steps to the captain's side, and Julian’s hand was upon his shoulder. ‘“*Tt is here,”’ he whispered, excitedly. Captain James was alert and on his feet instantly. He took a survey of the beach. “Hard at work already,” he declared, “and pro- poses to dine at our ex . “We have but one for long range, but for- tunately we have — y of ammunition. The re- volvers will do for close work, if he swims off to us. Statistics of battles show scientifically that it takes on an average two hundred and sixty pounds of lead to kill one man, I hope we shall do better than that, though his skin is tougher than the hide of a rhi- noceros. I will open on him at once, for I see that our rations are going fast. The eyes, throat and are the most vulnerable points. Take due notice, J and govern yourself accordingly, if it comes to closer Stand by with the revolvers!” While spedicing the captain thrust the rifle through a port-hole and Ss e sea serpent paid no attention to indicate that it was hit or had heard the Sagara The captain had loaded the other barrel with slugs. He now fired it with better effect. The huge reptile threw itself into a mighty coil— bearing some slight resemblance to the copper “worm” of a poisonous distillery—with wondrous celerity, and with its terrible jaws apart and head rising to a ~~ of ten feet or more appeared to look rhe captain gave the gun to Julian to reload, hile © Ca gave Ww. ne ihe Taiotass nto 5 is great ” he said to Julian, “ to “The on » he nD, — with a pistol, even at this range. Perhaps it reach him; I'll try it.” He thrust out the revolver and fired the whole seven charges in rapid succession, The shots 3 BF iebes wad however, only striking the creature and nas he A ; He uttered a wild os that they so well remem- bered, and launched i in the air, straight toward the wrec warp water with a sound as if a len flat rn it. He’s coming,” cried Julian, excitedly, as he Fe peony» my tg a final charge and capped the gun. * Now for it!” “Let him come, my boy,” said the captain, coolly. = sabe me the gun, And stand by witb the other re- volver.” As he spoke he fired both barrels at the advancing enemy. There was another cry of rage and _. Ss e cay - Replacing the gun by the revolver ¢ its loader: in ra succession—this time at much shorter e, and with excellent effect. There was no e to reload either weapons, and the captain instinctively caught up a knife. On the instant there came a crash against the bow, clear over the strongly-braced deck to the other side, and, for a moment, wreck and timbers shook and cracked, and trembled like pine twigs in a forest tornado. Well was itfor them that they had taken the terrible enemy at a disadvantage, They hastily loaded the weapons, and watched Oe opportunity for a shot, which was soon offered em, shining mask of its body moved slowly across one of the openings left between the timbers, and Julian thrusting his pistol close, fired, while the captain at the same instant seizing the rtunity at another opening, drove his knife to the hilt in the monster, leaving it inthe wound. These effective results extorted another cry, fol- lowed by several successive crashes of deck and tim- bers as the maddened reptile lashed about with its tremendous tail, But the precautions taken by Captain James had not been in vain. Thus the d struggle continued till near morn- ing, when the violent efforts of the creature slacken- ed, and the huge body was heard to drop into the sea, and though they listened for some time intently, they could hear nothing further. eanwhile the moon having gone down, and the
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) i | 4 ‘ 10 Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. darkness that precedes dawn having supervened, and feeling weary with the struggle and satisfied that it had ended in victory—whether the serpent was dead or had made off to sea—the captain and Julian lay down and slept soundly until near midday. When they awoke the air was filled with the cries of birds, which Julian thought sounded like a chorus of thanksgiving. There was a long irregular line of whitish gray in the water rete out to sea, over which the birds were hovering in great excitement. The captain pronounced it to be the upturned co! of the monster. ey removed the barricades, and came out on the broken deck. It had taken, Julian estimated, more than one hundred and fifty rounds of ammunition, and many thrusts of the long knives to win the conflict. But it was over, and henceforth they could now rest in peace, and with renewed ho they re- vurned to the island and their tent on She aaah, , CHAPTER XV. THE TIDAL WAVE—ANOTHER SURPRISE. Tue balance of the day was occupied in gatheri together combustibles for the beacon fire, of whic the captain had previously spoken. It was placed on the highest point of ground, not far from the bem Oe com of the most inflammable material to be found on the island. That night —, slept, especially the captain, in ae | or. of a security which had before been untelt. They were quite busy the next forenoon, but after dinner they set out for the rock at the east end of the island, taking with them a spade and a few yards of sail-cloth, for the purpose of burying the skeleton, which purpose, as 1 be remem- bered, had been postponed by their fight with the sea serpent. They found everything as they had left it on the occasion of their former visit to the place. The bright sun, which had that da, Ided the tree-tops, and the glassy surface of the little har- bor, and the whole top of the rock with a cheerful aspect of welcome, to-day shone dull and mistily, and the age far from being clear as on the former visit, had in it a drowsy haze which the Be remarked as presaging something un- usual, A nebulous gatheri too, seemed to indica change. As there had been no thick weather since their arrival on the island, he told Julian they must pre- pare for it by housing themselves more strongly on their return. ban ges Re an ae enn hs they = ave their attention e espec urpose t had brought them to the rock. r Tender yi and with reverent hands, they gathered up the relics of frail mortality, wrapping them in the piece of sail. Descending the rock, they carried them to a int midway between the grove and tent, where he sunshine rested all day. ie opened a grave in the yielding sand. With uncove heads they knelt, and the cap- tain uttered a brief prayer—part of the burial ee at sea—and the solemn task was soon com- pleted. They returned to the rock. The slab in the niche, whereon the skeleton had rested, was distinctly outlined, but fitting so closely that it was found impossible without other tools to raise it. Julian remembered the chisels that were in the sailor’s chest on the beach, and asked Captain James if he thought they would answer. ** Just the thing, if we only had them,” was his nse, “Tl go for them at once,’’ declared Julian, start- ing off at a rapid pace, and a moment after the captain, looking down, saw him running through the grove, whistling ch ; a8 was his wont. The captain FP eens about a little outside, ‘and then ng within the walls, sat down on a stone seat Legge gory view from the small, round windows of the le harbor, and waited for the in the southern horizon, he thought, a sudden recall, though not for long; but he was suddenly startled by cating @ terrible roar, unlike anything he had ever heard. If had in it something of the sound of a falling cataract—of distant thunder rolling momentarily nearer, and of the hissing sharpness of an advanc- ap Pye t myriads of birds, screaming same moment m discordantly, flew hted Re Poe RE eg 8 n i an out, As he did a. be saw the trees of the grove before and around him bowing low, to what seemed an immense wall of seething, drivin foam, which pee by. ans rock upon which f e stood, —_ ro spray over him, went rushing ) ete inter avalanche. = i What had happened? He instinctively sprung toward the low stone door and gras it clingingly, as he asked himself the question. Had the island suddenly sunk, or had the ocean suddenly risen to whelm him? Before his startled mind could solve the thought, the gigantic wave had passed, the trees of the grove wees and he saw the mighty volume of water rolling on, bas! tidal wave!” he exclaimed, as the truth burst ~ him. “What a narrow escape! But great eaven! Julian! Where is Julian?” In an instant he had clambered to the highest point of the rock, and was gazing toward the tent, with anguish in his face. Julian was not there! But as he withdrew his glance, he caught sight of him. Safe! h three rods distant he saw him caught bya broken branch, and clinging in the top of one of the tallest trees. He called to him, and Julian answered cheerily enough, but with evident amazement at his almost miraculous preservation, in his tones. The boy shook himself loose from the friendly | limb that caught him, and climbing down, came dripping and thankful to the top of the skeleton rock. he two castaways shook ds and embraced each other. Julian was on the beach, he tcld the captain, when he first heard the roar of its coming. He had secured the chisels and put them in his pocket, and when he saw the long, k line with its white crest peng he started to run, but it over- took him before he had taken a dozen steps. He had felt himself caught up and borne irresistibly onward, and gave himself up for lost, when he was suddenly arrested by his clothes catching the broken braneh, to which he had instantly fastened with all his might and clung for life until the passing water yielded him up. They knelt on the t and gave thanks to the Giv- er of all good, for their preservation. Laying aside his outer cloth , which was, of course, thoroughly drenched, Julian produced the chisels, and aftersome little difficulty they succeeded in raising the slab, which proved to be about four inches thick, and turned it backward on its A cavity, perhaps a foot in depth and width by three in length, was disclosed. There was a seaman’s cutlass, in a good state of [hace Newent and some few iron and brass articles or culinary use, but the main object revealed within was a stout box of iron, bound at the corners and edges with brass. It occupied more than half the 7 within. The captain took hold of it to lift it.out, and ut- tered an exclamation of surprise at its great weight. “Twas correct, Julian,” he said per ig S ‘in thinking that sure results would certai ollow our search for your uncle. We are evidently on he eve of a new discovery.” “You think this, then, some of the old pirate’s long-hidden treasure, sir?’’ questioned Julian, taking hold of one end of the box, “Bearing in mind the name and date on the face of the cliff, below,” replied the captain, “it looks like it, my a He took hold of the other end of the box as he spoke, and it required their united efforts to raise it from its long repose. Resting it upon the of the niche, the light, which had wn faint, fell somewhat more strongly non it, disclosed an inscription engraved on the “See if you can make it out, Julian,” said the cap- tain; ‘‘a tremendous fog is rising seaward, and our stay here must be brief,” he added, glancing out at the window. Julian bent over the box. There was an engraved death’s head and cross- bones, and underneath, in writing, a terrible denun- ciation of any one who should open the box—save he whose name was engrav d on the side. Julian moved to permit the fast waning light to fall upon the name. t was in large, antique letters, much corroded. like the rest, by time and the elements, but it flashed upon him like lightning from a dark sky. 3 name !—wonder of wonders!—was Benny Ha- VEN CHAPTER XVI. A BOAT AND A RESCUE. A storm so tremendous as that which had over- taken the Hong Kong, was not likely to have left the Punjab scathless. But the course of the latter vessel was not in the direct path of the hurricane, when she first felt its force, When it did strike her, however, she was onnpelad to close-reef every sail, batten down the es, and scud before it under bare ey She was driven widely from her course, but those tocitpent tii wich thep ko en ealiont ship it m: w ey knew many a gallan one down, to feel any special regret at a diveta nce that was not without remedy. e mo after the storm, as we know, rose a ag A n the ocean, and the commander having taken not without surprise at finding himself blown so far from the track, was about resuming his course, when the voice of the look-out at the mast-head was heard hailing the offi- cer of the deck. - ha enw is it?’’ questioned that official through his trumpet. “A boat, sir, I think, but I can’t just make it out.” , sities it ee demanded the officer, springing n e ‘ ‘Two points on the weather bow, sir.” By this time the commander was on deck, and or- dering the man at the wheel to bear up two points, he took the glass, and sprung up beside the officer, while a number of those in hearing, including Uncle Benny, clustered closer. “Mast head there!” “ Ay, ay, sir.” “Can you make her out yet?” | “A boat, sir, sure! and a movement on board. Two men I think, sir.” Spriaging lightly to the deck again, the comman- der ordered the yards squared, and the man at the wheel to run down to it. A few minutes showed that the look-out was cor- Reena it was, indeed, a boat with somebody on ard. In a few moments more they were within hailing distance. C Two men were plainly seen standing up and wav- a signal. e sensation on board the Punjab had increased to quite an excitement, and pees’ Ts as well as crew were all clustering to the bulwarks on that side, and Uncle Benny had been joined by the two young girls, Maggie and Jesso. “How came they here, Uncle Benny, have they been wrecked?” inquired Maggie. ‘“Must have come in the boat, my dear,’’ was the old sailor’s practical reply. ‘‘ But wrecked of course, and perhape the only survivors.” **Oh, I hope not!” cried the two girls in chorus. They looked over the side. By this time the boat was coming under the quarter, and willing hands were dropping ropes into her, which, were eagerly yet Uncle Benny gave one glance into the boat below, = reeled ward, pale and shaking with emo- tion, “That name, Maggie,’’ he gasped hoarsely—“ that name on her gunwale, can you make it out? my eyes are dim.” Maggie uttered a cry. She could, alas! too surely, “‘The Hong Kong!” The name on the boat showed the ship to which it had belonged. The old sailor trembled for a moment like a main- sheet shivering in the wind, with the two age girls clinging to on each side in excitement and a. ie his was not the soul to blanch when duty called. He rallied again on the instant, and bidding “‘ his two wards,” as he had lately called them, to remain quiet where they were, he went forward to where the two men were being drawn on board. It was the steward and purser—who it will be re- membered siesnpesred from the gaze of Julian when the mast of the Hong Kong went by the board. The same crash, it a) , had carried away the yawl boat, and they found themselves in the water near it, and had seized upon it as drow men grasp at straws—with a gripe that nothing bu death can loosen. They had me d to it until daylight, when they had succeeded in righting and bailing ber out. They were very much worn and exhausted, and were egy | taken into the commander's cabin, Uncle Benny, at his request, accompanied them. a be suitably refreshed, they told their story. In response to the eager uestio: of Uncle Ben- ny, they told how they had last seen Julian standing with Captain James, on the bow, only a moment be- fore the Hong Kong struck. The only glance they had of the land induced them to think it a huge, rocky reef, outlying a jutti coast or small island, for they had been swept aroun and past the point by astrong current, clinging to their overturned boat, and barely enpening being dasbed to pieces among the breakers. And in hardl as many seconds as it took minutes to tell it, reef, island and breakers vanished away leeward. Then arose the question between Uncle Benny and the commander, at this unsatisfactory conclusion, how far the men must have drifted before they suc- ceeded in righting the yaw], and how far they had come since. The rescued men could not say. They had no means of knowing. The commander got out his charts andemade an extended examination, but could find no mention of any reef or island in the vicinity he supposed him- self to be. What should be done in view of all the facts? It hardly required the earnest solicitations of Uncle Benny, backed by the urgent entreaty of the Princess to induce Lieut. Berry, the commander, to stamept to find this unknown land. And it was at once determined to cruise two or three days at least, in that locality, in the hopes of finding it; or, per haps, of ing in with one of the other boats t m launched. Many of the passengers, as well as the lieutenant- commander, had already heard from either Uncle Benny, or Maggie, Julian’s history, and the roman- tic undertaking of his search for hi uncle, Captain £0 Ce eae tenprise a gronter intereet than if oth the boy’s en a greater res oth- erwise would have had—added to which one-half of the crew, at least, among whom the story had par- tially got wind, were of the firm opinion that the search was a a eng peerage expedition, for the gold and hidden store of the.old pirate himself, and were not slow to declare their detire to join ina search for the searcher. The story of Julian’s encounter with the land- shark, and of his rescue by Captain James at the | critical moment, when the merciless pao. of his | betrayer were Bible and its tearing his mother’s treasure from his unconscious clasp—had created animpression among the passengers very favorable to that gentleman; and it was with more than the ordinary regret due a stranger, that they heard of the disaster to him and his vessel. The princess, it appeared, was especially saddened by the intelligence, she having met Captain James on what she called a memorable occasion, while
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making her preparations for sailing; and the inten- , tion of Commander Berry to cruise for a sight of the wreck, or the shore where it had struck, was received by all on board with much satisfaction. rere gd additional look-outs were placed at the fore and masthead, and indeed, every one aboard a not otherwise engaged, might have been said to be on the look-out. The calmness of the ocean, and the exceeding clearness of the atmosphere, lent for a time fair hope to their efforts. : ven the princess, herself, with Uncle Benny and the two young girls grouped by her, and the ship’s lass in the hands of the old sailor, kept, perhaps, he keenest look-out of all. On the first day, however, they saw nothing but fis ae troops of sea-gulls that followed in their rack. The second day they wereynore successful. They encountered the long-boat of the Hong Kong, her bow stove, and drifting apes Sey sport of the wind and waves—not a sail in or about her. Alas! for the crew that had launched her, Not till the sea gives up its dead shall they ever- more answer to the numbers of their mess. - *® CHAPTER XVII. THE FIRING OF THE BEACON. Ir was the greatest surprise of all to Julian. The discovery of the name of old Benny Haven upon a chest supposed to contain pirates’ gold—on a desert island in mid-ocean. While they yet pondered over it, wondering and commenting on its significance, they became sudden- ly aware of the fact, that the dense fog of which the captain had spoken, had become almost palpable. Sky and sea and rock seemed to be obliterated in the density of the mist that had come rolling in. They found it impossible to see ten feet away, and even while they looked at each other, they saw their figures assuming a vagueness of outline grotesque and almost alarming. “What Shall we do?’ asked Julian; “shall we at- tempt to take the box with us to the tent, or shall we leave it here? Can we risk opening it?” “The last is a matter for future consideration,” said the captain; ‘‘ but we had better leave it where it is for the present, especially if we carry out our urpose of making the rock our future place of resi- ence. “‘Ttis safe here, at all events—too safe, Lam afraid. ““My appetite warns me, as well as this impenetra- ble fog, and the necessity of your making some change of roto that we had better be getting back to the tent. t us start at once, my “y Suiting the action to the word, Captain James led the way down through the grove and up the slope, Heme gr as he went how little availed the discovery jus' e. For, had not the man, whose treasure it — to be, been doomed to years of isolation there— you of mingled hope and despair, ending at last in eath? In the light of this thought, the finding of the box, and its subsequent guardianship, had no interest for Captain James. ‘o Julian, however, it was a matter of profound interest. His thoughts went ata bound across the ocean to Uncle Benny’s cabin on the terrace, and he pictured to himself the old man’s surprise and excitement when this unknown treasure from an unknown donor, perhaps, should be brought to him from over sca—discovered in the manner it had been by them. They reached the tent in safety, thanks to the pi- lotage of Captain James, and after Julian had made shift to don some dry clothes, they proceeded to satisfy their appetites. ; “T hope the tidal wave has not washed away wha stores the sea serpent left us,’’ said the captain, in- ba here Snot, it,” ded Juli ith “T hopen r,’’ respon with rather a grave face, for this was the first time he had thought } Of dala. it move the heavy cad: @ think, “Wo move the heavy , do you sir?” he added. ; « enough,” said Captain James. “I re- member a tidal wave on the gulf coast once that took a government war steamer with its complete armament of men and from its ancho: in the harbor a mile and a half inland, leaving her high and dry upon the broad prairie when the wave re- ceded. ut of course t wave was far more or at least this may have t of the tidal wave is hour, though near the land it is much less.” Ju expre his astonishment. “*T sincerely hope, I me that it has not taken all our rations on the ,” continued the cap- tain, “for I believe we have not many in the tent.’ “No, sir,” replied Julian, with a sober face; “ not more than enough for two days, I think, sir,” getting up and looking about him. “But if the worse comes to worst,” he added, brightening, “‘there are the birds, sir.” Sho nis i “Y assented the captafn, inquisitively. ‘* But how you get them? Ourammunition was nearly exhausted in the fight. Whatever is left on the wreck is no doubt ruined—if indeed any portion of the old bulk should still be left.” “But, sir,” said Julian, the shadows these words young face vanishing cast over away, “it would The Sea Serpent. 11 not be necessary to use even what we have on them —anybody who has lived in the country knows how to trap birds, and—” “Hark!” exclaimed the captain, suddenly inter- rupting, and starting to his feet, with one hand up- raised warningly, in an attitude of listening. “Tris aaa he added, after a moment, with a long breath, ost a sigh. “I thought I heard a sound like the running out of a cable, as if some _“ was coming toananchor. Of course it could not a. on.” “T was about to add, sir, that in addition to the birds as food, there ought to be plenty of black-fish and sea-bass off the point there, if not clams and oysters, and no boy would starve on those.” “Well, well, my lad,’ was the response, ‘“‘ we shall make the most of what we have, no doubt, be our sey here long or short.” e rose and paced up and down thoughtfully, while Julian stepped outside to take an observation. “Don't go far!’’ called the captain, after him. ‘No, sir,’’ responded Julian, ‘I should have to al- most feel my wa , sir, if I did, for though the fog appears to be clearing a little, the coming night makes it fearfully dark.” : Julian walked a few paces from the tent, straining | his eyes to penetrate the fog and darkness, but the leaden-like opaqueness no glance, however keen, could penetrate six feet away. And as he came to this conclusion, Julian indulged in that habit for which boys from time immemorial, have been noted, He began to whistle. Not to “keep up his courage,’ for this was no special oc- casion to call it in question, but from mere lack of thought, perhaps, and the well-known air of “The girl I left behind me,” rung out melodiously on the thick night air, for the one time perhaps in the history of that unknown an For two minutes, the light-hearted lad, whom no past perils could sadden, nor future foreboding dis- turb, whistled as merrily as he had done at home in the days now so old, when he was suddenly startled by a rush of wings in the air above his head, and a large bird perched on his shoulder, ‘Hallo, Jule!’’ cried a hoarse voice, with a chuckle of satisfaction easily recognized. Julian gave a shout of surprise, which brought Captain ames Bye to the door of the tent. “What isit?’’ he asked, as the boy came running toward him. “See, sir; see!’? he exclaimed, excitedly, ‘‘ Uncle Benny’s parrot.” “Are you sure, Julian?”’ cried the captain, as the boy entered the tent with the bird on his shoulder. Positive, sir,” and addressing the parrot: “‘You know me, old fellow? You know Jule?” “ Ay! ah!” screamed the bird, at its very hoarsest. “This tops ever: ng,’ declared Julian, ‘How in the world could he have got here, sir?” There was more excitement visible in the features of Captain James than Julian had ever seen there. any lad,’’ he said, ‘‘ this means something! That sound that I thought I heard, so like the running out of acable! It must have been on shipboard, Our releege may be at hand! Let us light the beacon at once }”” He seized the tallow candle—a box of which had been found among the stores—and gaara its flame from the wind and damp with his d, stepped out of the tent. The ay of combustibles which they had gathered ready for lighting were only a few feet away, and, in a moment, the captain was kneeling at its base. “ How fortunate,” he said, ‘‘that the tidal wave reached no higher, or we might have lost our mate- a touched the combustibles with the lighted candle. The yeti tog up instantly, gathering volume as it rose, and fna minute it was towering twenty feet into the air. It dispelled the mist and vapor about, with the ce- lerity of thought, and threw a light far down the and over the water. e outlines of a large Ship, Nn, re ame anchor a short distance out, were ly reveal “Thank Heaven!" cried the captain, fervently, as “ee tating ing but the relief ised orge eve ng bu e relief it promised, they both swung their hats, and cheered with all the power of their lungs, A commotion was instantly visible on board the v and no doubt several night-glasses were Lote g t to bear upon their figures, defined in bold relief against the bright background of fire. A mo- ment more, and a voice giving orders through a trumpet could be distinctly heard. oy t was lowered, and came swiftly pulled to Julian, followed at a slower step by Captain James, ran down to the water’s edge to meet it. It touched the shore, and three or four men sprung out—among them a stout fi the boy had las' seen fading away on the cabin terrace the day he had left home. “Uncle Benny!” “ Julian ad And they rushed into each other's arms. For a moment there was utter silence—save the lapping of the waves against the side of the boat and on the shore, “God bless you, my lad,” cried the old man in deep emotion. *“Amen—and God bless us all! Uncle Benny,” said another voice behind, reverently. The old sailor turned on the instant. eee in the tones he had evidently recog- nized, Captain James was standing near. fully revealed in the light of the boat’s lantern held aloft by one of the men. rs He was holding out his hand and enemy BAL recognition to Uncle Benny, while Julian ooked, from one to the other, thunderstruck. : “Captain Kidd!’ exclaimed the old sailor, as he ped the extended hand in atone which made the Boat s crew start—“ Captain Kidd!” “Yes, Uncle Benny—yes, Julian!” was the re- sponse; “‘ Captain James Kidd!” CHAPTER XVIII. AND LAST. Tue story of The Sea Serpent is herein drawing to a close. Julian and Captain James returned with Uncle Benny and the boat’s crew to the ship, and in a few words before reaching it, the captain e ee that he had many years ago legally discfuded the om- inous name of Kidd, making his Christian name of James do double duty. z He further explained that he had not made him- self known to Julian, heretofore, much as he had de- sired to do so, because of his desire to study the boy’s character without his being influenced by the knowledge of kinship. But he was now, he told Uncle Benny, fully satisfied of the lad’s thorough un- selfishness and noble heart. In which verdict the old sailor promptly coincided. They were received on the Punjab with quite an ovation, in which, as may be presumed, the rincess and her daughter, and Maggie were not the east active, nor the last to extend their warmest congratulations. * They remained on board that night without return- ing to the island—the time being more than occupied by the explanations on both sides. . The discovery of the strong box bearing the name of Benny Haven, with all the incidental ticulars, the location of the rock, the finding of the skeleton, and other details, were duly made known to Uncle Benny by Julian; the old man listening with rapt at- tention till the conclusion was reached. Y “Poor Ned!” he then remarked, quietly, while a few tears rolled down his sunburnt face, ‘* Poor Ned I'd have never thought he’d ’a’ come to such an end as that! for, of course,” he declared, turning to those about him, “‘ you understand, my hearties, all, that it was my old messmate, Ned ‘Trusthim.”’ _ Why, Uncle Benny, I would never have thought of him;” declared Julian, wonderingly. ‘And yet I had your letter to him, too, and ought to have thought, Yet how came you to know it was your old messmate without seeing what’s in the box?” “*By the token, my dear y that I never know’d ne else who had a box that would leave it to me! You will see in the morning I am right.” While this conversation was taking place on deck between Uncle Benny and Julian, surrounded b Maggie, Jesso, and a group of eager listeners, includ- in Chock-a-block, the parrot, who was perched up behind Uncle Benny, as if conscious of being the first discoverer, Captain James was giving his ver- sion of their story to the prin Commander Ber- ry, and some others, in the cabin. : He had learned of the commander's picking up the two men—indeed, they had been among the first to welcome him as he came aboard the Punjab. And he now learned also of the extended search that had been made for the island, and of the fact that the Punjab owed her present position mainly to the ac- cident of having been struck by the tidal wave, that had swept over the island. : The vessel had been driven almost wholly at its mercy for a time, and drop in shoal water off the island, where they had anchored, the rising fog and aayhient. soundings giving a decided preference for y The next mo: happily was clear, and, after breakfast, led by the commander, everybody who could be spared was permitted to go ashore. A special party, consisting of Commander Berry, Uncle Benny, the princess, Captain James, Julian, the two girls, and a couple of men, detailed for the pur- pose, went direct to the rock, which was duly in- and wondered at by all. The box, under Uncle Benny’s sanction, was then opened with due solemnity. It contained a —— quantity of gold and silver, some in coins of various nationalities, some in bars and ingots; enough, altogether, to make Uncle Ben- ny comfortable for life, and to leave his heiress, as he told e, a nice little plum to ate with » Suilian. w su, on the youn r very brightly, oe = , e box also contained a letter, and some other papers, waaEpee in oil-skin, from Ned Trusthim, ex- plaining briefly his presence on the island. and, of ole Benny’s surmise of the night Poor Ned, it appeared, had been to the coast of Africa, in ttothennae of his intention of becoming a : He led a wild kind of life, darkly hinted at in connection with the slave-trade. Had amassed this prize-money found in the box, and had set out on his return to America, to enjoy it. The ship had found at sea, and he and two of his companions only, had reached this island ina boat—a boat that had been stove, in the breakers. Each of his companions, one of whom had beenin earlier life a stone-mason, had successively died dur- ing the four years succeeding; and he himself at the time of the writing, for six months the sole survivor, knew he was dying. 4 This, with some other particulars, for his old mess- mate’s eyes alone. He had discovered, while here, as any one else
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12 would do, who took the trouble to land, that the island had once been a haunt of pirates—of Cap- tain Kidd—and he had found preserved in a bottle, a chart, wherein was laid down clear information of particular localities where Kidd had concealed his treasure, which chart Ned Trusthim left his old mess- mate, Benny Haven, as he did all and singular, whatever he One of these hiding-places duly marked on the chart, was at the bottom of the great cistern. He and his companions had sounded it, and found what they believed to be a big square chest at the bottom, which they had never been able to get out, being unable to drain off the water, although they had hewn steps, for greater ease in getting at it, be- fore their interest in it had died out, along with the final hope of escape from the island. ‘Poor Ned!’ said Uncle Benny, commiserating|y, after Julian had finished reading the letter. “So his long-wished-for kingdom was at last comprised only in this one little island.” ‘Tt was, indeed, hard for him, after he had set his heart on being a king,’ said Julian, aside **T would much rather be a prince some- All the stores had been washed away eg Peas tidal wave, and the ship’s hulk had entirely p- peared. * Our arrival was none too soon,’’ said the princess to anne James, when these facts were ascer- tained. “An arrival for which I shall never cease to be | grateful to you,” was his response. ‘*You do me too much honor,’ was her negative reply, her black eyes flashing under her long lashes, and with a sp ush on her cheeks. They moved leisurely up the slope, followed by Julian and the girls, whither the commander and Uncle Benny and most of the crew and ngers had already preceded them, on their way to the great cistern. | The statement that a large chest of Captain Kidd’s long-hidden treasure was at the bottom of it, and the declaration of Captain James, confirmed by Uncle Benny, as lega of the discoverer, that whatever was found should be equally divided, had produced an unwonted excitement. Accordingly, that afternoon, as soon as the neces- sary appliances could be procured, Julian and the captain, with a detail of men from the Punjab, went to work to drain the cistern. This they soon found was no easy task. It required the whole day and a part of the next before a channel could be cut h the solid rock a and with fall enough to empty it to the bottom. This labor was watched and cheered forward by all the passengers and those of the crew unoccu- ied, and with a special interest by_the Princess and the young girls Jesso and Maggie. At last, however, the was scocemmiiched, the water gt lower and lower, and the treasure was ae ‘ hest of iro: t the bot- uge, square chest 0! mn at the tom, so cerpaed with rust Fe ike cation of its ° | construction could hardly be traced. A large hawser was brought and passed round it. At first it seemed almost as immovable as the rock itself, but at length it yielded, moving slowly from foo bed = its long repose, and was dragged remorse- out. By this time the curiosity of all was greatly ex- ci as may be supposed, and the chest was in- stantly surrounded. That this was a portion of the long-hidden trea- sure of the ancient freebooters, was sufficient to raise expectation to fever heat, and speculation was rife among the crew, and bets offered as to the | induce the princess to take amount of money it contained, and whether it was in Spanish doubloons, Mexican dollars, or ingots and bars, such as were in Uncle Benny's box. That the treasure was immense was evident, so it was argued, from its weight. The chest was so incrusted, that neither lock nor hinges were visible or traceable, and for all outward evidence to the contrary, it might have been a solid mass of iron. A sledge and crow were hastily brought to burst it open. i few vigorous blows did the work; the chest fell asunder—and what a treasure was revealed! It was packed full of stones, the same sandstone formation that composed the ledge. The only thing in addition thereto was a smal round roll wrapped in some kind of cloth, which fe away in decay on its being lifted out. ; It was a small proof-glass, such as is used in test- spirits. "< ing held to the light, it was seen to contain a thin roll of writing paper. The cork was removed, the pent taken out and unrolled by Captain James in the midst of a small sea of upturned faces, variously filled with wonder- ment, curiosity and disappointment. It contained the following words in ey writing, in a remarkably good state of preservation. “TO YOU who shalt hear these words—KNOW THIS, That no treasure is equal w a contented mind and no happiness so great as that of the cheerfu spirit, Know Tars, also, That there is no pleasure Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. | they weighed anchor, and without toil, and no life without a burden; and with- out honest, steadfast labor there can be neither rest nor reward. If, then, You are get tym in seeking for fruits in trees you have not planted, take encouragement in these my parang words— YE are not the first fools who have sought for Kidd's treasure, nor will ye de the last!” There was neither signature nor date. “Rather a severe joke on us!” commented Capt. James to those about him—smiling at the rueful and disappointed faces around him. ‘*Pirite Capen good preachee! all same—hab less buz—buz—and more baked pig!” muttered one of the steward’s men—a Chinaman, which was follow- ed by a laugh and brighter faces. “Never mind, my lads,” said Captain James cheerily, to the crew, “you shall not.go unrequited for your labor. Fortunately I still have, despite the loss of my ship, of which I was chief owner, some- thing to my credit in the Bank of England. And I hereby authorize your commander,” turning to that gentleman, who stood behind him, ‘to distribute among you one thousand dollars in gold on our ar- rival in port—as a pleasant memorial of this adven- ture here.” “And your commander is authorized to make a similar distribution from me!” said the princess. These announcements were received with a great deal of cheering, and the grcup around the iron chest speedily dissolved; each man declaring confidential- Wy. to his immediate neighbor, his belief that old Japtain Kidd never left any treasure anywhere. ne who had been the most zealous in emptying the cistern, affirmed his entire conviction that there never was such a manas Kidd—the pirate. To which his more philosophic hearer—who hap- pened to be Uncle Benny, demurred ; but asserted that the words contained in the paper found would still hold true, were it otherwise: ‘** No treasure is equal to a contented mind, and no happiness so great as that of the cheerful spirit!” hat afternoon—and a ee and lovely one it was, the Punjab resumed her course for Bombay and the East. one took with them many mementoes of the sland, rect to India. Accordingi , two days thereafter, when the Pun- os ke a steamer bound for New York, in addi- on the usual pemscngere letters sent by her, Captain James forward agents’ lawyer an authorization from him, as Julian’s natural and chosen guardian, with instructions to take immediate legal proceed- ings against Squire Lawson for his usurpation in the name of the law. : The pasate out to Bombay was marked by no further incident necessary to record herein—save, perhaps, that Captain James’s attention to the prin- cess became of a very decided character, and it was more than rumored that a wedding would be the happy result at the close of the voyage. ich consummation, his nephew, Julian, being more interested —_ than any one else, highly eaeworesene he told Maggie, and Uncle Benny; for they could now all live happily together, as became fast friends who loved each other, in the new coun- it Aa which they were going. nele Benny spent most of his time, in his state- room, studying Capt. Kidd's chart—as he termed the paper left him by poor Ned Trusthim, spendin many hours (with his parrot looking gravely on) an with Julian and the girls poring over it, and thus as he expressed it, on the day of arrival—‘ he had not altogether lost his time by going to sea as ‘a gen’l’- man row ani On lan pe at Bombay a tel m by cable from his agents’ er in New York, informed Captain James, that his instructions had been complied with wong te | and that Squire Lawson had fled, having een charged with malfeasance in office and em- bezzlement. This last information was all that was wanting to gie to her home and heart, and she declared it to her intention, to formally adopt her as Jesso’s sister. I would gladly linger, in the interest of my half million readers, over the gayety and festivities, with which the occasion of the marriage of the princess to Captain James was celebrated, and honored ; for, I am assured that no more joyous event has trans- pired anywhere. And of one fact we = positive—that from that moment dated anew the of happier days than any of cur characters had ever known. ith which pleasant assurance, I bid my reade one and all—tiJ we meet again—a most co. adieu. THE END. The Sunnyside Library. 1 Latua Rooke. By Thomas Moore .......... 10c 2 Don Juan. By Lord bg ee. es ea 20¢. 3 Parapise Lost. By John Milton ......... ... 0c 4 Tue Lavy or Tue Lake. Sir Walter Scott... 10c. 5 Lucite. By Owen Meredith... 10c. 6 UnpINE, OR THE WaArTeR-Sprrir. From the German of Friederich De La Motte Fouque... 10c For sale by all newsdealers, or sent, postage paid, on receipt of twelve cents for single numbers, double numbers gr Ra cents. ADAMS, VICTOR & CO., Publishers 98 William street, N. Y. The Fireside Library. 1 Was Sue His Wire? Mrs. Mary R. Crowell... 10c. 2 Freee From Love. By Harriet Irving..... 10¢, 8 Dip He Love Her? Bartley T. Campbell.... 10c. 4 A Srrance Woman. By Rett Winwcod . 10¢e, 5 Napia, THE Russian Spy. F. 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Lali Naalalllie \ xX ee TNE WARE Copyrighted in 1877, by BEADLE AND ADAMS. Single Number. OL: ae | BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUB No. 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. Deadwood Dick, | PRINCE OF THE ROAD; OR, THE BLACK RIDER of the BLACK HILLS. WHEELER. BY EDWARD L. CHAPTER I. FEARLESS FRANK TO THE RESCUE. On the plains, midway between Cheyenne and the Black Hills, a train had halted for a noonday feed. Not a railway train, mind you, but a line of those white-cover vehicles drawn by strong-limbed mules, which are most properly styled “prairie schooners.” There were four wagons of this type, and they had been drawn in a circle about a camp-fire, over which was roasting a savory haunch of venison. Around the camp-fire were uped half a score of men, all rough, bearded, and grizzled, with one exception. is being a youth whose age one could have safe- ly put at twenty, so perfectly dovalciped of physique and in- — of facial appearance was he. There was somethin about him that was not hand- some, and yet you would have been puzzled to tell what it was, for his countenance was strikingly handsome, and sure- ly no form in the crowd was more noticeable for its grace, mmetry, and proportionate development. It would have taken a scholar to have studied out the secret. He was of about medium stature, and as straight and uare-shouldered as an ath- lete. His complexion was nut- brown, from long exposure to the sun; hair of hue of the raven’s wing, and hanging in long, straight strands adown his back; eyes black and pier- ci as an eagle’s; features well molded, with a firm, reso- lute mouth and prominent chin. He was an interesting specimen of young, healthy manhood, and, even though a youth in years, was one that could command respect, if not admiration, wheresoever he might choose to go. ne remarkable item about his personal appearance, apt to strike the beholder as being excoctingay strange and eccen- tric, was his costume—buck- skin throughout, and that dyed to the brightest scarlet hue, On being asked the cause of this odd freak of dress, when he had joined the train a few miles out from Cheyenne, the youth had laughing] replied: “Why, you see, it is to at- tract bufflers, if we should meet any, out on the plains *twixt this and the Hills.’ He gave his name as Fearless Frank, and said he was aiming for the Hills; that if the party in question would furnish him a place among them, he would extend to them his assistance as a hunter, guide, or what- ever, until the destination was rea Seeing that he was well armed, and judging from external appearances that he would prove a valuable accessory, the miners were nothing loth in accepting his services. Of the others grouped about the —— only one is specially noticeable, for,as Mark Twain re- marks, ‘the average of gold-diggers look alike.” This person was a little, deformed old man; hump- backed, bow-legged, and white-haired, with cross eyes, a large mouth, a big head, set upon a slim, crane-like neck; blue eyes, and an immense brown beard, that flowed downward half-way to the belt about his waist, which contained a small arsenal of knives and revolvers. He hobbled about with a heavy crutch constantly under his left arm, and was certainly a pitiable sight to behold. He too had joined the caravan after it had quitted Cheyenne, his advent taking place about an hour subsequent to that of Fearless Frank. His name he asserted was Nix—Geoffrey Walsingham Nix—and where he came from, and what he sought in the Black Hills, was simply a matter of conjecture among. the miners, as he refused to talk on the sub- ject of his past, present or future. paste nan iver oMedwtbeuin DUA SKY, DeROWOOD Diy} } | LISHERS, | Ha! ha! ha! isn’t that rich, now? Ha'ha! ha! arrest Deadwood Dick if you can! =a : = ce ; f | (om 0m pe alls SMM a CITT \S No. 1. The train was under the command of an irascible old plainsman who had served out his apprentice- ship in the Kansas border war, and whose name was Charity Joe, which, considering his avaricious dis- Smee was the wrong handle on the wrong man. Sharity was the least of all old Joe’s redeemin characteristics; charity was the very thing he di not recognize, yet some wag had facetiously brand- ed him Charity Joe, and the 7 liation had clung to him ever since. He was well advanced in years, yet withal a good trailer and an expert guide, as the success of his many late expeditions into the Black Hills had evidenced. Those who had heard of Joe’s skill as a guide, in- trusted themselves in his care, for, while the stages were stopped more or less on each trip, Charity Joe’s train invariably went through all safe and sound. This was partly owing to his acquaintance with various bands of Indians, who were the chief cause of annoyance on the trip. So far we see the train toward the land of gold, without their having seen sight or sound of hostile red-skins, and Charity os cue pga over his usual uck: “T tell-ye what, fellers, we’ve hed a fa’r sort uv a shake, so fur, an’ no mistake “bout it. Barrin’ thar ain’t no Sittin’ Bulls layin’ in wait fer us, be- head yander, in ther mounts, I'm of ther candid opinion we'll get through wi’out scrap- in’ a ha’r.” Frank, rolling over on the s and if ng at the guide, oughtfully, “‘ but I doubt it. It seems to me that one hears of more butchering, lately, than there was a month ago— \d BA all on account of the influx of ruffianly characters into the Black Hills!” “*Not all owing to that, chip- Ri interpo: “ General ” ix, as he had immediately been christened by the min- ers—“‘not all owing to that, Thar’s them gol danged cop- per-colored guests uv ther gov- ernment —they’re kickin’ up three pints uv the’r rumpus, more or less—consider’bly less of more than more o’ less. Take a passel uv them barbar- ities an’ shet ‘em up inter a prison for three or thirteen yeers, an’ ye’d see w’at an impression et’d make, now. Thar’d be siveral less massy- crees a week, an’ ye wouldn't see a rufyan onc’t a month, W’y, gentlefellows, thar’d nev- ar been a ruffian, ef et hedn’t been fer ther cussed Injun tribe—not one! Ther infarnal critters ar’ ther instignators uv more deviltry nor a cat wi’ nine tails.” “Yes, we will admit that the reds are not of saintly origin,” said Fearless Frank, with a quiet smile. ‘In fact I know of several who are far from a myself. There is old Sitting Bull, for instance, and Lone Lion, Rain-in-the- Face, and Horse-with-the-Red- Eye, and so forth, and so forth!” “Exactly. Every one 0’ ’em’s a danged descendant o’ ther old Sa nD, hisself.”” 2 aside ther Injun subjeck,” said Charity Joe, forking into the roasted veni- son, “I move thet we take up a silent debate on ther
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Paddy Whack Joke Book. wil ba ent, nt paid on goeelbe Of DHee, by BEADLE seni paid, on receipt o ce RADAMS 8 WaiuMst,NY. 11) The Five Champto aT Death'sheud Rangers mpions, s- 121 Vailed Benefactrens. 808 Glass Eye 12 Barden, the eg 809 Mountain Ned 123 The Missing Bride. 810 Foghorn Phil 124 Sumter’s Scouts. 311 Sonora Ben 125 The Hunted Life, $12 Dick Darling 27 Bald Eagle. 318 The Red Brotherhood 1238 The Guich Miners, 814 Rival Lieutenants 129 Blackeyes. 815 Tracker 122 Old ow 816 Hurricane Bill 133 Yankee Ep! 817 Tippy, the Texan 185 The Cherokee 318 The Stone Chief 136 The Indian Hunters. 819 The Pear] Pirates 137 The Traitor Spy. 820 The Child Sp 139 The Border Foes. 821 Honest Han 140 Sheet-Anchor Tom. $2 Old Grizzly, the Bear- 1422 The Sagamore of Saco. tamer 143 The Swamp Scout, 823 te Dashing Dragoons 146 Border Bessie. 824 Will-o’-the-Wisp, the 147 Maid of the Mountain. Outlaw 14 Rob Ruskine 85 Dashing Dick 159 Snowbird. #26 O1d Crossfire 162 The Border Rivals. #27 Ben Bramble, the Hun- 163 The Duset ake nm 328 The Briga Ca , e Unseen n tain 169 e White Canoe. 29 Old Strat . 176 The Trader Spy. 830 Gray Hair, the Chief 180 Giant Pete, the Patriot. 1 The e Tigers me iuctaranae | Bs #uenucaunne e Texan ut 205 The Gray Scalp. ra Zack 333 834 207 The Buffalo Trapper. 335 The Masked Messenger 209 Scarred Eagle. Pf Morgan, the Pirate ~ 210 Redlaw, Half-Breed. 337 The Boy Sp 212 Silver Spur. 333 Tahle, the "Pratler 213 Squatter Dick. 839 The Boy Chief 214 The Forest Monster. 340 Tim, the Trailer 215 The White Hermit. S41 Red Ax, the Indian 217 Mountain Gid. ~ Giant 218 The Indian Spy. M42 Stella, the Spy 219 The Scioto Scouts. M2 The White venger 2 Nick Doyle. 344 The Indian King 21 The Biue Clipper. 45 The Long Trail 223 King of the 24 The ountain. | 346 Kirk, the Guide | 447 The Phantom Tratl ohave Captive. | The Apache Guide The Mad Miner Biue Belt, Guide On the Trail The Specter Spy Old Bald Heac Red_Knife, Chief Sib Cone, Trapper The Bear Hunter Bashful Bill Spy The White Chie RSSSSESESERSRERRESES 369 Metamora 870 Thornpath, the Trailer $71 Foul-weather Jack 872 The Black Rider 373 The Helpless Hand 375 Alone on the 374 The Lake ners ains Keen Eye, the Ranger The Green r 368 Montbars, Ee Weacee | 376 The Phantom Horse- 377 378 379 The Phantom Ship gan v1 B82 333 884. The 3s The Red Rider The Grizzly-Hunters Pa ote — ; e Specter r od Cae : 5 The Hunchback } The Biack Wizard The Mad Horseman The Jaguar Queen 6 387 888 The Privateer’s Bride i Shadow Jack Eagle Plume 392 The Ocean Outlaw 893 Red Slayer The Phantom Foe bud 895 The Biue Anchor 396 The Red-Skin’s Pledge sv7 The Quadroon Spy 298 The black Rover Red-Belt, the Tuscarora 400 The Two Trails Others in Press. THE ILLUMINATED DIME POCKET NOVELS. Comprising the best works only of the most popular liv- ing writers in the field of American romance. Each issue a complete novel, with illuminated cover, rivaling in effect the popular chromo. 1 Hawkeye Harry | 48 The Phantom Tracker 2 Dead Shot 49 Moccasin Bill 8 The Boy Miners The Wolf Queen 4 Blue Dick Tom Hawk, the Trailer 5 Nat Woife The Mad Chief 6 The White Tracker The Biack Wolf 7 The Outlaw’s Wife Arkansas Jack 8 The Tall Trapper Blackbeard 9 Lightning Joe 10 The Island Pirate lil The Boy Ranger The River Rifles Hunter Ham Cloudwood 12 Bess, the Trapper The Texas Hawks 13 The French py Merciless Mat 14 Long Shot Mad Anthony’s Scouts 15 Gunmaker of the Border The Luckless ere 16 - Fog yor tie, Scou W n, the Trapper e Island Trapper 18 Wild Raven, _ Wolt-Ca 19 The Specter Chie Basing ick 20 The B’ar-Killer Sharp-Eye 21 Wiid Nat lron-Hand Indian Jo, the Guide 23 Old Kent, the Ranger SSRISRISRLLSAZASAL SESS The Yellow Hunter The Phantom Rider 2% The One-Eyed Trapper | 71 Delaware Tom 25 Godbold, the Spy 72 Silver Rifle 26 The Black Ship 73 The Skeleton Scout 27 Single Eye 74 Little Rifle B indian Sim ie Fee wood witeh e ut e le Eye 7 The Scariet Shoulders 81 The Mystic Canoe 73 The Border Rifleman 2 The Golden Harpoon 79 Outlaw Jack 33 The Scalp King 80 Tiger Tail, the Seminole #4 Old Lute 81 Death Dealer, the Shaw. % Rainbolt, the Ranger nee Scourge 386 The Boy Pioneer &2 Kenton, the Ranger Ss The Heart Eater. St The Three Trappers. 38 The Heart- e Three ppers 39 Wetzel, the Scout. 8 Kaieolah, the Witch 40 The Huge Hunter queen 41 Wild Nat, the Trapper | 86 The Hunter Hercules 4 Lynx-ca 87 Phil Hunter, the Boy 43 The White Outlaw Slay: 44 The Dog Trailer 88 The Indian Scout 45 The Elk sing. . 89 The Girl Avenger 46 Adrian, the Pilot Others 47 The Man-hunter TWENTY CENT NOVELS. 150 to 200 Pages 12mo each. Chromo Covers. The tyenty Cent Novel Series embraces none but noted works of ed authors, chiefly in the field of porey American romance, of marked originality and high in- terest—price, size and literary character all adapting them to the widest circulation. Those seeking for The ‘can Novels will find them in this ies, : Rovky Me Kntain Rob ountain i Kentuck, the Sport, By A uaw. LA Capt. Mayne Reid. ve. MY Albert W. Aiken. Mad Py es ot the Dot it Free P n. By “M. Quad,” o e ro’ ress. ie The Wolt Demon. Sy Albert W. Aiken. Dan. Mrs. M. V. Victor. is Pacing. Pete, the Prince of the Revolver. By Jos, ? r, Jr. 19 Simon Girty; or, the Queen of the Woods. By auth pales Bae hy ON Cn ) an. By ‘oomes, Ht mag the Boy Road Agent. By Ol] Coomes. Hand 30 Eagle Ky P Best Ameri: 2 3 ‘% 2 Old Dan kback, the Great Extarminator. By O) Coomes. 23 The Phantom Hand, 24 Gentleman George, 2% The Heart of Fire, 26 The White Witch 27 23 Nick Whiffles’ Deadly Eye. By Buffal Pet. By Tue City LIFE SERIEs, By Albert W. Aiken. Bill. J. F. CO. Adams. 99 Old Bull’s-Kye. By Jos, E. Badger, Jr. 30 Bowie-Knife Ben. | By Oll Coomes. $1 Jack Rabbit. 82 Silver Sam. B By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 1. Delle Sara. For sale by all Newsdealers, or sent by mail on receipt ts & a Price, 0 Cer SADLE & ADAMS, Publishers 98 Willlam Street, New York. tr — —--— 5 ———__ --
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“A Model Family Paper, and seen Sh matreseg of the Weeklies.” A ey UNRIVALLED AMONG POPULAR PAPERS In the good repute of its large corps of Contributors ; In the variety, scope and interest of its contents ; In the beauty of illustration, typography and order of its “ make up.” oa FIRST CLASS POPULAR WEEKLY, aiming at what is Best, FresHest and Most Afrractive in Fiction, Romance and Novel—in Sketch, Story and Narrative—in Adventure on Sea and Land—in City Life Revelations—in History, Biography and Events—in Wit and Humor—in Poetry and Essay—in the Useful and Practical—in Answers to Correspondents, Topics of the | Times, Editorials, etc., etc., ete. ENTERTAINING, INSTRUCTIVE and AMUSING, It meets the tastes, wants and demands of old and young alike, and is the Congenial Companion, the Welcome Guest, at Firesides, __ in Houses, Shops and Offices IN ALL PARTS OF THE UNION! No paper now published in this country having a wider circulation, and none being received with so much favor by that class of people who are solicitous that what they read shall be | both pure and good. The corps of regular contributors embraces the following / Most Popular Living American Writers: — —-—}j ———_ -- ALBERT W. AIKEN, MARY GRACE HALPINE, HAP HAZARD, MRS. MARY REED CROWELL, EBEN E. REXFORD, ’ EDWARD L. WHEELER, OLL COOMES, ~ MATTIE DYER BRITTS, DR. WM. MASON TURNER, CORINNE CUSHMAN, C, D. CLARK, GARRY GAINES, | JOSEPH E. BADGER, Jr., COL. DELLE SARA, CAPT. CHARLES HOWARD, MRS. JENNIE DAVIS BURTON, COL. PRENTISS INGRAHAM, A. W. BELLAW, | | CAPT. FRED. WHITTAKER, HENRI MONTCALM, MARO O. ROLFE, | LUCILLE HOLLIS, T. C. HARBAUGH, . MRS. ADDIE D. ROLLSTON, | | CHARLES MORRIS, RETT WINWOOD, ROGER STARBUCK, eEtc., as well as the celebrated Wits and Humorists WASHINGTON WHITEHORN, JOE JOT, Jr., and BEAT TIME, and the sparkling essayists and pen-preachers THE PARSON’S DAUGHTER and EVE LAWLESS, | all of whom cater exclusively for the SatruRDAy JOURNAL, while in its department of ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS those | | who are conversant with such literature pronounce it the best and most interesting column of the day. Taken all in all the Satur- | | DAY JoURNAL is the Journal Par Excellence for the Lovers of a Wholesome Popular Literature, | | and those seeking for what is best and most enjoyable in that line should become its readers. | The Saturday Journal is Published Weekly at the Following Rates: Daw Four Beamtiiss os isis trie ok s oo vntien $1.00 | Two Copies for One Year......................$5.00 Tiber Due Foar::. 1004; abs Aha SE 3.00 See. ee 6 cents Supplied by all Newsdealers. BEADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, No. 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK.
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1 Deadwood Dick, Tre Prince or THE RoaD; OR, THE BLack RIDER OF THE BLACK Hits. By Edward L, Wheeler, author of ‘‘ The Double Daggers,” ‘‘Cloven Hoof,” etc. & Yellowstone Jack; or, Tat TRAPPER OF THE EN€HANTED GROUND. By Jos. EK. Badger, author of ‘Pacific Pete,” ‘Old Bull’s Eye,” ete. 3 Kansas King; or, Tut Rep Ricat Hanp. By Buffalo Bill, (Hon. Wm. F. Cody), author of “Deadly Eye,” ‘‘ The Phantom Spy,” ete. The Wild-Horse Hunters. By Capt. Mayne Reid and Capt. Frederick Whit- taker. My i , VAGABOND JOE, 5 Vagabond Joe; Tar Youna Wan- DERING Jew. By Oll Coomes, author of “Tdaho Tom,” ‘‘The Dumb Spy,” ‘ Dakota Dan,” etc., ete. Double Number, 10 cents. 6 Bill Biddon, Trapper; or, Lire iv THE NortHwest. By Edward §&. Ellis, author of “‘ Seth Jones,” ‘“‘ Nat Todd,” etc., ote. or f The Flying Yankee; or, THE OCEAN Outcast. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, author of “Ralph Roy, the Boy Buccaneer,” “ Diamond Dirk,” etc., etc. Seth Jones; or, THE CAPTIVES OF THE FRONTIER. By Edward S. Ellis, author of ‘‘ Bill Biddon,” ‘‘Nat Todd,” etc., ete. ‘a The Adventures of Baron Mun- chausen. Beadle & Adams’ Half.Dime E eeean ene, Every one of them ** Live” Stories by ‘‘ Live®? Authors. a Complete Novel, at the extraordinary price of a HALE-DIMIE, “Clear the Track!” he shouted in a sort of wild ecstasy, as he swung the flaming missile around him. 1 Nat Todd; or, THe Fare or THE Sroux Captive. A Sequel to “ Bill Biddon, Trapper.” By Edward 8. Ellis, author of ‘Seth Jones,” ‘‘ Frontier Angel,” etc., etc. 1 The Two Detectives; or, Tur FortTunEs oF A Bowery Girt. By Albert W. Aiken, author of “Orphan Nell,” ‘* Little Iola,” etc., ete. 12 Gulliver’s Travels. A Voyage to Lilliput, and A Voyage to Brobding- nag. By Dean Swift. 1 3 The Dumb Spy. By Oll Coomes, author of ‘‘ Vagabond Joe,” ‘The Boy Riflemen,” etc., etc. 14 Aladdin; or, Tae WonperruL LAMP. 1 5 The Sea-Cat; or, Tae Wrircn or Darren. A story of the Spanish Main. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker, author of ‘‘The Red Rajah,” ‘‘ Double-Death,” “ The Rock Rider,” etc., etc. 16 Robinson Crusoe. His Life and surprising Adventures, (27 illustra- tions.) By Daniel Defoe. Each maumber 1 = Ralph Roy, The Boy Bucca- neer; or, THE FuGitivE YACHT. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, author of ‘* The Flying Yankee,” ‘‘The Boy Pilot,” etc., etc. i8 Sinbad the Sailor. His seven voy- ages. From the Arabian Nights. 1 The Phantom Spy ; or, THe Pitor OF THE PRAIRIE. By Buffalo Bill, author of ‘‘Kansas King,” ‘Deadly Eye,” ete., ete, 2 The Double Daggers; or, Drap- woop Dick’s DEFIANCE. By ‘Edward L. Wheeler, author of ‘Deadwood Dick,” “ Cloven Hoof,” ete., ete. “Keep off! keep get ‘ou will all be killed p she cried, seeching voice. 21 Frontier Angel, A Romance of Kentucky Rangers’ Life. By Edward 8. Ellis, author of ‘‘Seth Jones,” ‘: Bill Biddon, Trapper,” ‘‘ Nat Todd,” etc., ete. ’ 22 The Sea Serpent; or, THE Boy Ropinson Crusog. By Col. Juan Lewis. 23 Nick o’ the Night: or, Tas Boy Spy or 76. By T. C. Harbaugh. 24 Diamond Dirk: or, Taz Mystery OF THE YELLOWSTONE. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, author of ‘‘The Flying Yankee,” “ Ralph Roy, the Boy Buccaneer,” etc., etc. y 4 5 The Boy Yachtsman: or, THE Lost IsLANnpDs. By Roger Starbuck. 26 Cloven Hoof, the Demon. By Edward L. Wheeler, author of “Deadwood Dick,” “The Double Daggers,” etc., etc. The above publications are for sale by all Newsdealers, or sent by mail on receipt of price, five cents each. BEADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York.