Five Cent Wide Awake Library (vol. 2) (1896 01 03)
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dpe Die ie Entered at the Post Office at New York, N. Y., as Second Class Matter, No. 1248. {cometere} FRANK TOUSEY, Pustisner, 34 & 36 NorrH Moors St., N. Y. New York, January 3, 1896. IssuED WEEKLY. 5 CENTS. Vol. II. Iintered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1896. by FRANK TOUSEY, in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. O. TINKER’S MAN, BOGEY. at mc Ae =f j SSS SS SS = — f = a little short, but he chanced to get hold of the locket and chain—little Emily’s parting gift—and held Jack momentarily a prisoner, but holding on to the hand-rail with the energy of despair, our ’ hero kicked out desperately and sent the mate reeling back.
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La TINKER’S MAN, BOGEY. TINKER'S MAN, BOGLY. CHAPTER I. | THE SICK MAN’S LEECH—JOVIAL CAPTAIN ROB- INSON MEETS WITH A DISAPPOINTMENT— UGLY THOUGHTS, Wer must now return to Mr, Murray. Our ] readers will remember we left him stricken down with grief at the departure of his son ' in the ship Albatross, He was borne away insensible by the po- liceman, and taken home to bed. During Mr. Murray’s illness his ravings were of so ugly a nature, that it was indeed fortunate no listeners were nigh, for some un- pleasant rumors might have got abroad else, One day, however, Captain Robinson came there to inquire after him. ; The doctor's orders were that no one was to be admitted to the sick room. , But jovial Captain Robinson went up. / ‘My leech must be applied again,” he mut- tered to himself. At the very moment he crossed the thresh- old the sick man was raving wildly. “Who calls the Albatross a coffin-ship? Tl have the law of any man that dares dis- parege my property—my own boy's on her— a—ha! And would I lét my own flesh and blood afioatin adoomed hull? Liars! Heav- ily insured! Of course she is—of course she is! and hark—hark ! how the wind whistles, and how the waves moan before they send out their roar that foretells woe to the under- writers, and—hark! what was that?’ Jovial. Captain Robinson was just a bit startled at this point. The sick man started up in his bed, and said this so pointedly at the jovial captain, that uy at answered involuntarily : b ic “Did ‘you not hear?—a cry for help! A despairing cry—a wail of agony, as the cruel waves close over the poor drowning wretch, What voice is that? Surely, lL know it—yes— it is—it is my boy's.” And then the sick man cowered in his fren- ? zy, up in a corner of the bed. There was something very unpleasant in all this, and the jovial Captain Robinson turned pale, j “Dead, gone, are you, my poor, foolish boy ?’ said the patient, witha moan. Ihave done it all—I—I—your fond, foolish old father, that would have given my heart's best bloo to save you a pang. I ruined you firstly by my want of firmness and decision of charac- ‘ter, and lastly, by my sternness, that came so suddenly upon him. But Ill not live! Why should I, when he’s gone? There’s no reason why Ishould. Get me arazor, nurse ; I'll soon put an end to this. One good shar stroke, and I’ll take my head clean off; ani hark you here.” _ He sank his voice to a loud whisper. | “When Robinson comes to put on the screw for hush money—his leech, as he calls it—you can throw my head at him—that’ll . show him——” And the sick man gave a weird chuckle at this ghastly conceit, Suddenly he seized himself by the throat and tried to strangle himself, but Robinson caught hold of him and held him down. A sharp tussle ensued, for although Cap- tain Robinson was a powerful man compared te Mr. Murray, yeti the latter was nerved by vx a om and he made a desperate fight for it. At length the nurse came in and lent a hand. And between them they contrived to strap the wretched man down, and put him out of / the way of doing himself harm. | “A lucky sping pe was here, sir,” said the nurse; ‘‘I only left the room for a minute; but I should never dare to again—never.” _ Captain Robinson mumbled something, and glided out of the sick room, and into the street. , The color had left his cheek, and his jovial _manners disappeared, CHAPTER II, ON BOARD A COFFIN SHIP—ALL HANDS TO THE _ PUMP—NAT|OCRINGLE LETS THE CAT OUT OF ' THE BAG. A sHoRT time after our friends Tinker and _ Bogey had had their fun out with young _ Murray and Chivey, Jack and Harry were in deep conversation about the ship they were Sailing in, — ga ¢ het Sa a fy ait iy ** Harry,” said Jack, ‘‘ what do you think of the ship, eh, old boy?” “Well, Jack, I have been thinking that al- though they say the Albatross is such a clink- er, she is certainly not famed for speed.” **Speed,” echoed Young Jack, ‘‘ why, I call her precious slow.” «Slow |” exclaimed a voice behind them; “T call her an old crawler.” They looked around, and there stood a big, sturdy sailor, “That's strong language, Nat Cringle,” said young Jack, “Strong,” quoth the sailor; “is it. Not stronger than I mean,” The boys stared. “Whatever are you talking about?” said Harry Girdwood, «The Albatross, if you please.” *T can’t hear you disparage our own ship Nat,” said Jack; “it isn’t proper, you know.’ “What isn’t proper? hich isn’t proper, and why not?’ “Because she is between us and Davy Jones’ locixer,” “That's it,” rejoined the sailor, quickly; “that’s just it. But how long will she keep usso? That’s the rub. Why, it’s a down- right, regular conjuring trick to keep her afloat.” “ Well, Cringle,” said Harry Girdwood, “ I never heard a man speak so yet of the ship he had just taken service in.” “ Bah, they pay me well for that.” “But payment could not recompense you for risking your life,” said Harry Girdwood, “Couldn’t it, though?’ exclaimed _ Nat Cringle. And why not, pray? Have I not often risked my life for less? “Do you really mean, Cringle,” said Jack, “that you think the Albatross isn't sea- worthy ?” “Seaworthy? Why, there’s not a sound plank in her, It’s a coffin ship, Nothin more nor less,” said Nat Cringle ; “and ol] Murray’s got a new line on that'll suit his book right enough—old Murray, the whole- sale undertaker, as we used to call him.” “But why on earth the wholesale under- taker?” asked Jack, “Because he’s buried such lots of people. I suppose you didn't know about all this?” “Tt looked oddish that you should join such a ship,” said Nat Cringle; ‘‘ but I sup- osed that there was some sort of a reason ‘or it. Howsomever, I recommend you to Beer, a sharp look-out on me when she set- es.” “You don’t think really that the Albatross is in immediate danger?” “ Difficult to say, that. But you just look how she is plugged up with goods. Low freight, you ow. See how low she is in the water, and see the way she labors along. Why, she has weight enough of cargo to founder a good ship, let alone such a coffin ship as this,” ‘Does she make much water?” “Does she not?” exclaimed Nat Cringle; ‘hark at the pumps working incessantly. I have been rrr den this hour and more. But you only wait until we get a little weather, and then you'll see. You go and help work at the pumps, and see how little you can do b “Work at the pumps?” repeated a voice, close by. Sat : It was Mr. Figgins, the Cockney orphan, who had again ventured on deck, “ Yes.” “What do you mean, pray, the pumps ?” ; Young Jack winked at the sailor and Harry. “They are going to give the crew and pas- sengers a dance,” said he; ‘(and Nat Cringle has been a shoemaker—he has to repair the dancing shoes—the pumps, you see.” __ ‘Dear me,” exclaimed Mr. Figgins, in sur- prise, “how very singular the manners and customs of life at sea are.” by working at “You'll join in the merry dance, I sup- pose?” said Jack. “No; not at present. I thought I was getting better; but when the ship rocks, I really feel the old fooling coming on,” ‘* You're not well yet?” 4 “No, I have not been wee ever since I came on board,” replied the!orphan, with a faint air of embarrassment, “Still sick?” k “Oh, dear no,” aay | l “T thought not. You are too much ofa Jack tar for that, now.” * Rather !” Mr. Figgins had got his notions of an ideal sailor from Mr. T. F. Cooke, and the other stage mariners, and he essayed to give that well-known hitch to his trousers, But the effort or jerk, and a heavy roll of the ship, caused a return of those unpleasant symptoms which the orphan was subject to. So he clapped his hand to his mouth, and beat a precipitate retreat to the ship’s side, “‘ Nat Cringle,” said young Jack, seriously. “T hope that you exaggerate the danger of this ship.” “Don’t you hope anything of the kind, young gentleman,” said Nat Cringle, ‘or you'll be disappointed. I ain’t exaggerated nothing. The Albatross is neither more nor less than a coffin ship, and the very next storm that comes on, down she goes,” Jack and Harry looked grave. They were no cowatds, Those of our readers who have followed them through their various adventures, need. no assertion to this effect, “Tf the Albatross foundered in mid-ocean, you would have but a poor chance of saving your life.” * Who spoke of mid-ocean?” said Nat Crin- gle ‘‘I didn’t, for one,” : oe Bur —" “Don't you jump at no rash conclusions, young gentlemany The Albatross will foun- der, but not in mid-orean, as long as I have half a chance of handling the helm. Let her have a fair run for the Spanish coast.” “What I should like more than anything else would be——” “What?” pare honest tar looked anxiously around im. } “Just to run her into port, and get her condemned by the British consul and Lloyd's people, just to pay the varmints out who traflic in honest men’s lives, They’d lose their insurance money—ay, and they’d lose their frelgts too.” ** What a noble notion,” ejaculated Jack, . “ Yes, rather tidy, ain’t it?” added the sail-' ne “But to do this proper, we want one thing.” “What?” *“'To square the skipper.” “T should think that he’s in with the owner and the other villains,” suggested Harry Girdwood. : “That's just what I should like to know,” said Nat Cringle, Ghongktaa ** Captain Deering ain’t no fool, he ain’t. He knows his doo re man better—every rope in the ship, and every plank—ay, and what’s more, he waren’t on board six hours before he knew every man Jack of us aboard by our names. So I'can’t make out why he should take sar- vice in sich a rotten old hull, unlesstherewas some particular reasons for it that no one knows about.” “He didn’t know anything about it,” said Jack, positively. 5 ae panels eyed the speaker sharply, “ Because he told me that he had beensent , for express to town, when it was known that Captain Robinson was too ill to go out.” at Cringle burst out into a boisterous laueh. j “What's that for?” *“‘Cap’n Robinson was about as ill as I am this ’ere blessed moment,” he answered, with an oath, ‘‘Cap’n Robinson values his pre- cious skin too much to fe afloat in such a ship as the Albatross. He never meant to go.” A The boys were literally staggered at this. “Nat,” said Jack, ‘‘my father’s rich, and . the best man that ever drew breath. He — will take in hand this rascal Murray, and ~ punish him.” ‘ Ms “Bless you, your honor,” ejaculated the tar, quite moved; “you're the right sort, — ' ou are.” Pigs “But I shall have to get the chance to do b this act of justice,” saidjyoung Jack. j “Tell come.” ite ‘‘ But if the ship should sink?” said Jack. “Took here, your honor,” said Nat Crin- gle, “‘the Albatross will go down, that’s a moral sartainty ; but you stick close by me, whenever she’s in trouble, and we'll sink or ute together, And I for one don’t mean sinking.” eines) ‘ Mt Give us your had upon that,” said Harry ok ae SL aon er
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1 ' . i 1 TINKER'S MAN, BOGEY. “Here it is,” said the honest tar, thrusting out a huge horny palm, ‘‘and here’s the t’other for ‘ou, Master Jack, nearest the ’art, you know. ut mum! here comes the second mate, d—d ugly swab, betwixt you and me and the bed post!” CHAPTER Ii. THE YOUTHFUL SWELL NEXT TO JAOCK’S CABIN —THE TALE OF THE CHECK-BOOK—THE HOLE IN THE PANEL—A SHINE ON DECK!—THE THREATENED MUTINY—JUST IN TIME. THE youthful swell Murray was so dissatisfied ‘with his cabin that he removed to one with more comforts, and that one happened by chance to be next to our friend Young Jack. “Chivey,” said the master. “Sir,” said the man, “Give me a soda,” “And b., sir?” “Of course!” ‘Tt’s all very well to say of course, sir,” said Mr. Chivey; ‘‘but the fact is the steward won’t give us much more tick.” “The steward’s a Puppy, Chivey,” said Her- bert Murray; ‘“‘he knows that Iam _ the owner’s son; tell him I must be attended to.” “Very good.” ‘‘And tell him if he makes any bones about it, I'll get him discharged from the ship as safe as my name’s Herbert Murray.” ‘Very good, sir.” Chivey disappeared, and young Murray wait- ed impatiently for his return. “Dm always thirsty,” he muttered; ‘‘should like to have 8. and B, laidon by a sortof New River Company.” A merry voice in the adj ee upon his reverie with asnatch o ‘My name d’ye see’s Tom Tough, And I’ve seen a deal of sarvice.” cabin broke in a song, “Blow his sarvice, and him too,” muttered Mr, Murray Junior. ‘‘That’s that beast of a Jack Harkaway, I know.” “That’s him, sir.” “Falloo!” The master turned around, and there stood the man at the door. “What are you spying upon me for, Chivey?” he said. j “Spying ain’t in my line, sir,” retorted the tiger. “I was only a-watchin’ of you.” “The same thing.” “Not quite.” “Silence! You hear Harkaway in the next eabin?” : “Qh, I hear, sir.” And well he might, for young Jack was swell- ing out his voice. “And if more you would be knowin’, . I have sailed with bold Boscawen.” “He's gettin Chivey, “‘to m queer.” “Pye watched him,” groaned young Murray, “and I know he doesn’t; he was rollicking about all over the ship, when I was half dead with sea- sickness, hang him,” i ‘Don’t you get impatient, sir,” said the tiger, “and I can put you up to a wrinkle.” “What is it?” Q ‘Something extra double artful, sir. O. T- ona nautical chant,” said Mr. e hisself believe that he don’t feel “Out with it; you know bow I hate beating about the bush!” exclaimed Herbert Murray, impatiently. “Keep your ’air on, sir, I beg,” said the tiger, “and Ill tell yea all about it; you know this ship is made of sliding boards.” e crept up to the end of the cabin, and gently slid back a small trap. At the same time he blew out the lamp, which was burning upon the table, so that they were in total darkness. ' k " Through the hole they could see all that was passing. : ; There was young Jack seated at a desk ‘in which were displayed a number of letters and papers upon which he was engaged. ; ‘At the moment that the two spies, for the were nothing less, peeped through, Harry Gird- wood was entering the cabin. ) : And now they could not only see, but. they ‘could hear every word that was uttered, as dis- tictly as if they had been in the cabin with the sp ap. PRSaoe” ne “What now?” said young Harkaway, looking net \ : ane been thinking over what Nat Cringle said. “So have I; the danger we are now in is great, for a heavy storm might come upon us ab any time.” “Now, supposing we got ashore off the coast yonder?” Here Herbert Murray looked nervously around at ee tiger, who pressed his master’sarm warn- ingly. % ell?” “I want to see Spain,” continued Jack; “the land of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza 4nd Gil Blasand Don Juan and Figaro and Almaviva, and such a lof more people-we arealb acquainted with in books and plays,” “That's ali very well, Jack, but we are short of money.” ‘No, the governor gave me @ check-book, and T have only to fill in the checks for any amount I like, and get them cashed through any banker, in any civilized city. We would have to wait while they authenticated the checks, and there’s tin for you to any reasonable amount.” —__ or] he spoke, he flourished a check-book in his “You must keep that in your pocket always.” LF do, ” ‘‘Wrap it in an oil skin, and fasten it about yourbody, for if any accident happened-—” “And we had to swim for it?” Yes, ” “Tt would. be safe enough, and as for swim- mingyfor it, why——” At this juncture a hoarse voice was heard giving orders on deck, and it stopped their talk. ‘All hands tothe pumps!” “Hark!” “T hear.” | ‘Anything worse than usual, I wonder?” said Harry. Murmurs were heard on deck so loud that the grumbling tones reached them distinctly. Harry Girdwood ran up the cabin stairs to see what was going forward. “The men are grumbling,” said he, turning around towards Jack. “At what?” “This unceasing working at the pumps. They get no rest.” “All "hands pump ship!” sang out the second mate. A. muttered menace was heard to come from one of the crew. This was the signal for a low growl—low, but general. And, as it went on, it seemed to gather force like a distant storm. “Jack, ” “Yes, Harry.” ; “Tt is getting serious. Get your pistols and let us go up ondeck. The mate may want assist- | 5 ance,” “Pm with you,” said Jack. : He dropped his check-book on to the desk, and sticking his pistols into his belt, up he ran. Matters were growing serious on deck. The wind had freshened and the glass fell rap- idly, i that some dirty weather was to be expected. heavy swell had set the Albatross rolling, | and the water was now gaining fast upon her. The gale, which had been gradually working its way up to them, caught the ship at last with greater suddenness than they could reasonably have expected But Captain Deering was prompt to meet the emergency. ‘The upper fore and main top-sails were reefed. The mizzen sail was furled. The rain came down in buckets, and the men were working deep in water upon deck. The men had deputed a spokesman to go to the skipper to ask for an extra allowance of grog. And, surely, if any circumstances eould war- rant such a license, this was the opportunity to grant it. But the captain being busily occupied, the men referred their request to the mate, a surly and ill-natured fellow, who refused it point blank. The wind increased, and as the heavy cross sea caught her, the ship labored and creaked, and strained continually, causing Nat Cringle to sing out, ironically, from time to time: “There’s music for you, lads!” And as the wind continued, the ship lurched and rolled fearfully. Now and again a heavier sea than usual would | _ break clean over the deck, washing everything before it, and carrying the mén away from the soe to land them in the lee scuppers all in a eap, bruised and marked about dreadfully _ When young Jack and his comrade, Harry, got on deck, the crew were assembled all in a group talking to the second mate, and the con- yersation had grewn-remarkably warm. **Welve been up to our waists in water, Mr. Mackenzie,” said thespokesman, ‘‘and we think you really ought to serve us out.an extra allow- ce. “Pm of a different way of thinking,” replied the mate, who was a temperance man; “and Pll just do nae such thing.” Themen murmured. “Tet us see the captain,” said one, “‘Ay—ay; the captain.” “tVes—yes,” called a third. . *‘Ye’ll do nae such thing,” said the mate, obsti- nately. “Captain Deering has deputed me to see you, and—— ‘Well. then, if you stop the prog, I won’t go to the pumps, for one—that’s flat,” replied the man. “p7] "Yo mutinous thief!” roared the mate, clap ye in irons in no time.” *Ye’d better not try it, Sandy,” said the sailor, threateningly. ‘Drop him overboard,” suggested one of the men. Now whether this suggestion would have been acted upon, it is not easy to say. Before it could be put tothe test, young Jack and Harry Girdwood appeared on deck, and uickly as quietly they ranged themselves beside ackenzie the mate. { “Come—come, my men,” said Jack, showing his eee “stand back, no mutineering here.” “We don’t want to mutiny, Master Jack; we've only made a very reasonable request.” “Ay—ay,” said Jack. ‘‘What is it, my men?? “Give us some rum.” “Silence.” “Not a drop,” cried Mackenzie, vehemently. “Down with him!” cried the sailors. “Stand back, men!” cried Jack. Tt was a very ticklish moment. f “T won’t countenance apts like mutiny or insubordination,” said Jack, “but put your re- | ped into more respectful language, and Mr. _ ackenzie will, I,am sure, listen to you, if it is reasonable.” : 5 ‘*You’re making sure before your time, then,” _ said the mate, ungraciously.’ st “Sir?” ‘Did ye no hear what Isaid? Ye'’ve no right | to promise anything in my name. Ye’ve just a wee bit over fast, and it ill becomes ye.” 5 “Come—come, Mr. Mackenzie, don’t be vexed — with me,” said Jack, ood-naturedly, ‘‘I spoke wise at the good of the ship.”* ; fe “Fold your tongue, boy.’ : i on ill you not let the men have some grog, / ir? . “No,” cried the Scotch mate, furiously; and if you——” ; “Stop—stop, sir,” said need to threaten me. “Dom yere impudence,” cried Mackenzie. ' “But since you don’t want it——” BY _ “Nor you either. Go forward, you young — imp, ye—ye— ” i “Save your breath to cool your porridge, sir,” said young Jack, coolly. ‘Stay here, Harry, to” young Jack, “you'veno came to assist you — oe i Rie see that Mr. Mackenzie doesn’t get into any trouble while I step aft and to Captain — Deering.” \ The mate raged, Z eee Jack did not wait to hear his re-— yj rt. aN Young Jack went straight up to the skipper at once. ets ““Captain Deering, may I have one word with — you, please?” ake “Just one, Mr. Harkaway,” returned the a f f skipper, ‘only be quick about it, if you please.” 4 Seas At this moment a deep, threatening growl was heard from the men on deck. After a pause, the captain fiercely asked: “Well, what is all this fuss about?” “The men have been working like steam en- knee dee in water, gines hour after hour, sir, and not aman, sir, among them, ae a | thread een ona hey want some rum,” respond- g Jack. : that all?” Une aoe §Yes, sir.” Pa 2 “Let them have it at once—at once. Do hear?” , “Yes, sir.” “Off with you.” ati “Excuse me, captain, they have asked rae ves already, and he rehaiea. Bes 7 va
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TINKER’S MAN, BOGEY. “Well, I wouldn’t ask after that, but they are grumbling and look precious ugly, but he holds out, so that Ireally fear some harm may come to him.” ‘He's a fool,” muttered the captain. And then he gave orders to the steward to serve out grog all around. Meauwhile, Harry Girdwood was boldly con- fronting the mutineers, who, awed by his pis- tols, hung back, hardly daring to commit the violence they had it in their minds to do. Oaths and curses were hurled at the head of the mate, but they all admired the boy’s pluck, though he stood in their way. It is doubtful, though, whether he would have been able tokeep them at bay much longer, had not young Jack returned with the welcome news that they were to have the rum. " A cheer greeted this announcement, and then the steward made his appearance. ' “T hope, Mr. Mackenzie,” said Jack, stepping up to the mate, “that you'll not take offense at what I’ve done.” “Tf ye think to palaver me over,” said Macken- zie, sullenly, “‘ye’re mistaken. Ye think to mak’ a fule o’ me befoor the crew. Weel, I shall yet ha’ the opportunity o’ showing ye that it’s no’ the best day’s wark o’ yer life to maka fule o’ Donald Mackenzie.” “All hands pump ship!” sang out Captain Deer- ing, as soon as the men had swallowed their ram. “Ay—ay. The men sir.” flew to work again with alacrity at s. “Now, Mr. Mackensie,” called the captain, “tumble about, please—look lively.” The Scotch mate growled something inaudible, and moved away, CHAPTER IV. MASTER AND MAN—THE POSITIONS REVERSED— TIGER CHIVEY ‘‘PLAYS ARTFUL,” AND HIS MAS- TER MAKES A VERY FALSE MOVE—THE FORGED CHECKS AND THE SLIDING TRAP IN THE CABIN \ PANEL, Murray and Chivey had remained all this time in their cabin. “That Harkaway"cove has left his checkbook behind him,” said Chivey. « a Haag , ef nee y, by just putting my arm through this little ’ole I oe get at it : . “Chivey, I forbid you to do anything of the sort. The tiger had dived his arm through the hole in the paneling, and in the twinkling of an eye, held young Jack’s checkbook under his master’s nose. - “But I have done it, sir; look here,” cried _Chivey. “Chivey, this won't do for me.” ee “Oh, it will for me, though. Why, with just onelittle lark with the checkbook, you could pep- per him nicely for all that precious sewing up he give you ashore.” __ “I shouldn’t object to do that,” returned Her- bert Murray, ‘“‘but I would do anything——” Chivey interrupted his master with a ery of de- ‘light and amazement. ; “My hi, and Elizabeth Martin! What a slap- “up lark!” “What is it?” “Look here!” } He pushed the open checkbook under young _ Murray’s eyes, and there was a check already written and signed by Jack for twenty pounds, Jack had got it ready for some purpose or other at the ory moment ‘that he had been called up on deck by the mutinous demonstra- _ tions of the crew. | “Tt is strange why he should leave the check in the book.” “Perhaps if was meant for your own especial _ benefit, sir.” j { Mr. Uhivey cocked his head on one side in his culiar fashion. : __ “Whatever do you mean by that, Chivey?” asked the master. e _“Only this, sir—if I could only write like you, Td fill up every blessed check in the book and make presents of ’em to all the ’orspitals and harities and such.” : _ Herbert Murray’s eyés flashed again at this. “By jingo! that would be roung Harkaway out.” “Rather!” ‘The tiger saw that he had got his weak and acillating master upows they right track, and he saw also that it would not do to press the matter nduly, = a - “Wouldn't that ugly young rascal stare when own On A a lark, and serve ) es | he found out that he had subscribed to a charity | —or charities—without knowing it?” “Would he not?” exclaimed Chivey; ‘only you couldn’t imitate the signature near enough to match with that.” ‘*You never made a greater mistake in your life. Chivey, than tosuppose that.” “You don’t mean to say, sir, that you really could?” exclaimed the tiger, with a look that combined incredulity and admiration. Chivey knew that weak-headed young master of his well. No one better. He could do more with Herbert Murfay with a mere look than could the latter's father accom: plish by dint of praises and reproaches, coaxing and scolding, severity and leniency combined. And the singularity of the affair was that ciey really commanded while he appeared to ° y. Murray snatched up a pen, and wrote in imi- tation of Jack’s signature. Chivey gave his master an admiring glance. ‘‘Well, there!” he exclaimed, turning his eyes upwards and seeming to address the roof of the cabin, ‘‘if he ain’t just about the tallest thing out in fly covers, I wish I may die a old maid!” “Oh, there’s nothing very wonderful in that, Chivey,” said his master, with an off-hand air. “Ain't there? Why, nobody could tell but what it was young Harkaway’s writing. Have a en out of his book, sir; you do imitate him so well. ; “Yes, it ain’t bad, is it?” said Herbert, taking up the pen again, andinvoluntarily copying the signature of young Jack Harkaway at the foot of a blank check and then a second. The tiger looked on greatly interested. “Beautiful!” ejaculated Chivey, ‘lovely. Dot the hi, sir!” 2 “Tt doesn’t matter!” ; “Oh, dot his hi; he dotted yours pretty smart- ly for you, didn’t he?—ha-ha!” This was a mistake. ‘What the devil do you mean by that, you im- pudent scoundrel?” exclaimed Herbert Murray; for this was a very sore topic to joke upon. Chivey with his wonted quickness, saw his er- ror. But he had not been able to resist the joke. “Beg pardon, sir,” he said, saluting his master, and pulling a face as grave asa mute’s, *‘couldn’t help it, sir—no offense.” ‘Don’t you learn to be too familiar, Chivey, or Tl give you the bag! You mustn’t learn to for- get your place, because I’m civil to you.” ty “You'll just about spoil yourself if you do, let me tell you. Now you may not earn much now “Tt isn’t to say a oonnEte fortune, sir.” _“No, perhaps not—but I shall have a pot of tin one of these days, and it will be a fortune to you, if you know how to behave yourself.” ‘Thankee, sir,” responded the tiger, “I don’t want a fortune, so long as you keep me on.” ane: well, then. It entirely depends on your- self. “Yes, sir-——” * * * * * * Chivey looked wistfully at those two signed checks. | And as_ he looked, his speculative mind shot ahead into the future. He fancied he saw in those two strips of paper the meuns of making himself safe—of putting his position beyond the mere caprice of his shifty young master. But how? This we shall see. ; _ Meanwhile it may be weil to remark that Chivey, withall his shrewdness, had yet to learn that to speculate upon the remote future was rash, seeing that if the weather did not speedi- ly improve, the Albatross was likely to prove the coffin for one and all on board—for passen- gers as wellascrew. _ “Just listen, sir, what a row they are making overhead.” “That's Jack Harkaway’s voice. He’s coming down, Chivey, exclaimed his master, anxiously, “put back the checkbook.” “Yes, sir.” The tiger obeyed. And in obeying, somehow or another, the two signed checks found their way into Chivey’s |. pocket. ‘ ‘Push to the trap.” “It’s down, sir---close as wax.” Mi aoe hope they won’t see it from the other side. » ; “Never a bit, sir.” jaatss F of “Then up on deck, and see what all this pre- cious hubbub is about, Chivey.” “Yes, sir.” The tiger turned upon the cabin steps, and gave his master a parting glance of admiration. And he disappeared up the steps on deck. Young Murray fully believed in Chivey’s adulation, and accepted it as justifiable homage. Silly young fool! He had just added forgery to his varied and unenviable accomplishments. Forgery has an ugly sound; yet forgery it was. Moreover, this crafty, cunning young man about town, had left in the possession of his own wicked servant, the proofs of his crime, CHAPTER V. LISTENERS HEAR BAD NEWS OCCASIONALLY, “JT say, Jack,” exclaimed Harry Girdwood, when they returned to their cabin, ‘that’s rather careless of you, leaving your checkbook out. “No fear; no one came down here, they had too much to do on deck.” “True,” answered cautious Harry, ‘‘but you can’t be too careful with your checkbook.” “True, bus my own opinion is, that unless we look remarkably lively, the checkbook won’t be of any particular use to any of us.” i don’t think it isas bad as that,” replied arry. ; “JT do; the rotten old tub is as nearly water- logged as possible. Let a few more seas break over her and downshe’ll go,as sure as my name’s Jack.” * * * At this moment Chivey tottered down the companion-ladder to his master. His cheeks were ashy pale, and he had not a word to say for himself,for he absolutely quaked with fear. But his master did not want to learn the news from Chivey. He was stretched at full length in his berth, with his ear close to the panel, and he could hear every word of the conversation going forward between Jack Harkaway, junior, and his com- rade, Harry. “Hush, listen,” he whispered, warningly, to Chivey. The'tiger obeyed. Ard this is what they both overheard togeth- er. “T mean to put on my cork clothing,” said Jack; “‘get yours ready too, Harry, at once.” “Very good,” 7 “And meanwhile, in case of accidents, I mean * * * to scribble out a little information,and stick the paper into a corked and sealed bottle.” “What's the good of that?” “Lots,” replied Jack; ‘if we go down to Davy Jones, it will be saying good-by to all our friends at home, and it will show up that mur- derous old thief, Murray, to the world.” ‘But Mr. Murray’s own son is on board.” ‘ ‘Well, then, nobody will believe that he baad his own flesh and blood afloat in a coffin ship. ; “But he didn’t know that his son was here. According to Captain Deering’s own showing, the young fellow took his passage, with his servant, under assumed names, so as to dodge his father. But I’m sorry for the son,” said Jack, ‘for he’s very little chance of saving himself, and unless the wind drops, the Albatross will never float twelve hours more!” t { tain] * “Chivey !” Herbert Murray’s yoice was hoarse with ter- ror. ‘*Yes, sir.” “Bring: me something to drink—some brandy and water.” / f “T ain’t got time,” replied his servant; ‘I’ve got to look after myself now, and put on my Tekan for I mean to have a good hard try for it. * * cS 2 “What do the men say on deck?” E “They are getting ready the boats, and some are talking of a raft.” Ns Herbert Murray sank back with a groan, bury- ing his face in his hands. 3 - feanwhile, young Jack was writing out his os reg! of the case to expose the shipowner’s villany. 4 , And this being done, h ' with a hastily-written tans Pea tg ‘ Se oe a 7 - oie Ne enclosed it, together . well to his father and
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mother, little Emily, and friends, in a bottle, which was tightly corked and sealed. Then it was committed to the waves. “Now for the lifebelts!” CHAPTER VI. BETTER NEWS—THE SKIPPER MEETS AN OLD COMRADE—STRANGE REVELATIONS—THE CAP- TAIN’S RESOLVE—‘‘ WE'LL DO THEM YET, BY THE LORD HARRY!” Now, while pecker were made for dire extremities below, matters grew better above. The wind lulled,and Captain Deering exclaim- ed, in the fullness of his heart. “We shall pull her through now, the rotten old sponge!” “For the present, sir,” said a voice, close to his ear. Captain Deering turned around, and there was Nat Cringle. “Halloo, my man!” he said, biting his lip with vexation; “you oughtn’t to be at my elbow to pick up every word I may happen to let fall.” Nat Cringle pulled his forelock in salute, and gave an apologetic scrape with his foot. “Al right, captain, ’m mum, Axing your pardon took the liberty 0’ speaking on the score of this not being the first nor the tightest scrape we've been in together.” sey ve !? Wes, fir.) “T scarcely remember,’? murmured the cap- tain, in the voice of one diving back into the ast; “‘and yet I should know yourivoice. Why, et me think.” ‘Don’t your honor remember the Lively Polly?” Here he broke out into a snatch of a sea song: “Jf you wish to know the liveliest craft, that ever sailed from port, Why, that’s my Polly—the Lively Polly—and she’s a rare good sort.” “The Lively Polly!” quoth Captain Deering; “T should think I do remember, and now, Nat ar! I remember you.” . 4 ! } “Nat Cringle’s your name, is it not?” ( “Ay—ay, sir.” ‘ “Tip me your fin, Nat Cringle,” said the skip- per, heartily; ‘I’m precious glad to sail with an “old comrade, Why, where have you been all ‘these long years, shipmate?” “Knocking about, cap’n,” replied: the sailor, *up and down—oftener down than up, if the real truth be spoken.” ‘And so,Nat, you think the Albatross will on- ly pull through for the present?” ‘Yes, sir.” “Why?” ‘*Your honor needn’t ask that,” replied the sailor, “seeing as you know all about the ship now as much asI do.” “Ay, Nat Cringle,but from the way you speak, -you show methat you have known somethin more about the Albatross than you choose to tel for a long while past.” 4 “Not more than you, captain,” said at Crin- gle. ‘‘Leastways, i suppose not, considering as you’ve embarked in the same venture as me,” ‘You suppose sa?” “Ay—ay, sir.” “Tell that to the marines, Joe,” said Captain Deering, ‘‘sailors won’t believe it. We all know what you believe. You know as well as possi- ble that I only came up at the eleventh hour to rey Captain Robinson’s place when he was taken Nat laughed. “When what?” “When Captain Robinson was taken ill, I sa Re . Nita—ha!” laughed Nat Cringle, grimly. ‘You know all about that, sir.” “What?” “Why, about Captain Robinson’s illness.” “T don’t ae know what you are driving at, Nat,” said Captain Deering. There was a peculiar look in his eyes, and a strange twang in his voice that told as plainly as possible that his suspicions were aroused by the sailor’s manner. — 5 “Pll tell you, Captain Deering,” replied Nat; “Tinow, and you know, too—leastways your honor ought to know—that Captain Robinson was about as ill as I am at this present mo- ment,” “What?” “Of course you know he was only sham- ming.” The skipper broke in indignantly at this. — “Do you know, Nat, what you are saying? TINKER'S MAN, BOGEY, Captain Robinson is one of my best and oldest friends.” “The devil he is!” said Nat Cringle. ‘‘Why, then, he ought to have a round dozen, and be tarred and feathered and pitched overboard, the swab!” Nat Cringle’s manner was so full of downright earnestness that the skipper could not mistake it. ‘Do you really think, old shipmate,” he said, earnestly, sinking his voice to a whisper, ‘‘that Captain Robinson——” 6 paused. He could not bring himself to put his thoughts into words, Nat nodded. “Yes, sir,” he said, “that’s just it. He knew well enough; it’s alla game—a sort of play at life and death. They speculate with money for your life and for ours, and the best news that they could hear would be that the rotten old Al- batross had gone to the bottom, and with her every Datiriel seal on board!” } Captain Deering walked aft in great emo- ‘ion. After pacing the deck for several minutes he came back to where Nat Cringle stood, stock still, awaiting him. “Nat Cringle,” he said, earnestly, ‘‘we have sailed together often enough, and we have faced death too often together for there to be any de- ception or concealment between us.” ‘‘Ay—ay, sir.” “How came it that, knowing this, you are here?” : “Because I know very well,” returned the old salt, with the same air of conviction that he had previously shown in his conversation with Jack and Harry Girdwood, “that nothing can hurt me—that, come weal, come woe, | sha’n’t go to the bottom.” iy The skipper looked amazed at this declara- ion. “Do you mean it?” “Yes,” : “You think that you bear a charmed life?” “Tf you like to put it like that, your honor,” returned the sailor, smiling; ‘‘I feel that I can’t go down, else I shouldn’t have come aboard the Albatross, nor, in fact, any ship belonging to old Murray.” “T don’t understand you quite, Nat.” “Tt'seasy understood, cap’n,” returned Nat bebe warming up on his favorite theme. “He ‘ets hold of some rotten old hull that’s been con- emned, and dodges it up with paint and putty, and he gets acargo ina strange port. Then he puffs it up_and gets hold of a captain whose name is well known amongst the merchants and shippers, and so gets hold of passengers and cargo. The more passengers the better, you see. Well,he and Captain Robinson have work- ed this 1 together, and a nice bargain they’ve made of it. Captain Robinson never meant sail- ingin her, of course, He waits till the last mo- ment, and then he gets hold of you.” Captain Dering here interrupted him with a boisterous exclamation. } “Do youknow how he got held of me, Nat Cringle?” “No, sir.” “Then I'll tell you. I was in trouble up in London. I was in precious low water. My name wason a heavy bill for a poor devil who's gone queer, and they were going to nab me for it, to lodge me in limbo. “The swabs,” ‘Well, [looked up my pals to help me arti 9 and J thought of my old mate Robinson. e sent me word that he couldn’t help me with money, that he was very ill, but that he could get me a ship at once, and start me off before the sharks could get scent of my whereabouts. Down I came on the sly and took ship.” “The mean, artful son of a sea cook,” ejacu- lated honest Nat Cringle. “TI begin to see clear now, Nat,” said the skip- per, thoughtfully; ‘and if I don’t spoil their speculations, you can call me all the lubbers you ean lay your tongue to.” ; Nat Cringle grew quite excited at this. “Captain Deering, would your honor be offended at a suggestion?” “Offended, Nat! There’s no shame to any sailor, whatever his grade, in asking your ad- vice, old comrade,” “Thank your honor. Well, then——” “Your advice?” ; “Put her about, and let us run for the nearest Se Have the British consul on board, and ‘et the ship be surveyed. If Lloyd’s agent gets over her after the straining she’s undergone in ns gale, she’ll be condemmed assure aseggs is eggs. { } ‘ \ The skipper looked ‘about him, and took an earnest eek of the weather signs. , “Nat Cringle,” he said, clapping the old salt on the shoulder, ‘‘it shall be done. If the rotten Albatross will hold together, we’ll do them yet, by the Lord Harry.” CHAPTER VII. A WRINKLE IN PUMPING—THR SOUNDING ROD— JACK READS THE OLDEST TAR ON BOARD A * LESSON. , Caprain DemriInG had the men served with another allowance of grog. se And again he sang out the order so often heard in this short voyage: “All hands pump ship!” : on time it was readily, if not quite cheerfully obeyed, ris Nat Cringle said, the constant bending over the pumps strained their backs woefully. e “Tf I go on much longer,” said another tar, - ruefully, ‘‘damme if I, sha’n’t get as humpty- backed as King Dick in the play.” “There’s a simple remedy for that, my men,” said young Jack, promptly. ‘What is it?” ei up bell-ropes on to the pumps and you won't have to stoop.” “Bravo!” They. set to it at once. ‘ A bell-rope is a short rope with a thimble, or iron ring spliced into one end. The thimbles were slipped over the handles. This done, the men tailed on to the ropes to pull the handles around. By dint of this simple artifice the work was gone quicker and better, and with half the atigue. : hen next they sounded the well, there was no abatement. This naturally discouraged the men, who mur- mured ominously. One old fellow, with grizzly hair and beard, dropped off, and swore a good round oath that he would work no more. “She’s settling,” he said; and a look of dismay was seen upon most of the anxious faces present, “T don’t believe it.” “You don’t believe it!” said the old fellow, fiercely. ‘‘What does a boy like you know about it?, I tell you she’s going down.’ “T tell you, then, Norris,” said young Jack, firmly, ‘‘she’s doing no such thing; and if she were, why, that’s no reason why you should de- sert your duty.” ; “More I don’t,” retorted the sailor, batten och “only at the last gasp, and I mean to make a kick for it. As long as it’s of use I was willing to pump; but now she’s going down, I mean to save my breath, and not be so pumped.” Jack saw with a sinking heart that several of the men were about to follow the old sailor's ex- ample. ‘Wait a bit—wait a bit,” he exclaimed, eager- ly, ‘‘and I'll soon show you that I’m right and he’s wrong.” The old man grunted. “Give him a chance, Norris!” cried Nat Cringle. ‘Damme, give him fair play.” “Every time we’ve sounded the well for the last twenty-four hours,” said young Jack, “it has gained upon us—slowly, very slowly, thanks to hard struggle with it—yet none the less surely, OTe has,” ‘“‘And that’s cold comfort to give us,” growled Norris. “Well, the last time we sounded, it was sta- tionary. “What of that?” “Stow your gaff!” interrupted Nat Cringle. “Damme, you’re enough to make the Fore Oy Rome swear. Don’t you see what Master Hark- tf is a-driving at?” d 0. “Then you must ha’ got your figger-eds stuffed — with sawdust instead of brains. hy, if it’s a — level fight now, or on last esi with the water, why, it’s better than if was before, in much and seeing as how it had us at a adwant- age before.” ‘ “Nat Cringle has just said what I was trying to get at,” said Jack. ‘Now listen.” ‘Ay—ay?” “Let us have one more shy,” said young Jack; “Pll take Norris’s place, for we don’t want any half-hearted coves this turn.” . ie Seer [ll take Marshall’s,” said Harry Gird- wood. a | “Bravo!” said one of the sailors. ; 3 The cheer was caught up readily, for the ex ample of these plucky youngsters was the very ewe A
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ors, and worn out they were and no mistake, rt man of them. “Now, Norris,” said Jack, ‘you go and sound the well.”” st ‘Ay~—ay, sir!” ‘ In the course of a few moments back came old Norris with ‘‘a face as long as a fiddle,” as one of the sailors remarked. A fiddle!” quoth Jack, mean,” At this they all laughed. ; The old man gave his report with a precious lugubrious air. t was serious, and Jack felt it tio be so. “Now then, mates,” cried Nat Cringle; ‘no more palaver; but let’s go in and give her a proper doing for a spell, and if we don’t make the sounding-rod tell a warstly different tale in the splicing of a mainbrace, you may ever call me the darndest loblolliboy as ever smashed his grinders over a twel’month-old ship biscuit.” This made the men grin. Young Jack struck up a snatch of an old song, slightly altered for the occasion— “Pull away merrily, Pull away cheery Send the pumps’ fly-wheels all fast spinning round. Each try at the bell ropes Hightens our well hope: . And the rod shall encourage us when next we sound,” The air was brisk and lively, and Jack’s im- peapeen doggerel was more welcome to those rd-working tars than the Laureate’s most pol- ished stanzas would have been. The men caught up the chorus all together. The fly-wheels did go around as Jack sang. **Halloo!” cried one of the sailors, “here comes old Norris again with his report.” : A bass-viol you “Jest look at his winegar mug,” said -another. _ ‘Now, Norris.” “Speak up, man,” said Jack. “Out with it!” cried a sailor, impatiently. *“What’s the werdict?” said another. \ _ . “Well,” says Norris, porting a plug of caven- dish into his cheek with aggravating delibera- tion, “‘this young fellow was right—I was wrong}; and what’s more, I’m not fool enough to be sorry , ‘to own myself licked by such a proper young cove. “Bravo, Norris!” ut Norris, heedless of the approving cheer, only turned to Jack Harkaway. ; “Give us your flipper, youngster,” he said; “if you only live to be my age, you'll be able to take a rise out of any post-captain in the Royal Navy —ay, damme! and the port admiral into the bar- gain.” , gJack grinned. ‘ ‘The men cheered. : : » “This is all right and proper, Norris,” said Nat , Cringle, who was a little gratified with his crusty - old shipmate’s conduct; ‘‘but how about the - well?” f _ Why, you see, some folks——” ss Awast, Ned, awast,” exclaimed Nat; “ no ! ane Well, then, we’ve gained just four inches on er. ‘* Hurrah!” “Hurrah!” yelled the men. Tune up again, Jack,” cried Harry Girdwood, -$xcitedly, “‘and let’s have one more go.” * Pull away merrily, Pull away cheerily—” “Hold ’ard, there,” eried Norris, pulling young Jack away; “you take a turn at the sounding too, and let this d—d obstinate old grampus get ‘back to his dooty.” * * * * * * Young Jack made three soundings, and report- ed each time. ; The lad’s manner seemed to fire the men with hew energy every time he returned to report. The third time he come back from sounding the well, | ‘‘Howjare,we getting on?” cried the men, eager- ia ui ‘Why,” answered Jack, grinning over his face, “you've sucked her dry as a-bone. So now a hccate that we obey the good old maxim, and _ let well alone.” | _ Never did these honest tars hear a joke so _ thoroughly to their tastes. That done, Gop ae oa made a ym being distastef to the roposi- Mtns tee ie. thing to give a fillip to these poor worn-out sail- , “‘I shall treat _tion that was far ROW ate begs td: N ERR, fi ORL . “With Captain Deering’s permission,” he said, TINKER’S MAN, BOGEY, you all around to another go of Tog.” . “Hurrah fe Harry went and asked permission, and what’s more, he got it, too. ¢ : ‘“‘As you like,Mr. Girdwood,” said the skipper, “but neither you nor Mr. Harkaway must ask me again to-day, for I couldn’t refuse you any- thing. You are made of the right stuff that Eng- land’s sailors are built of; and you’ve done more between you towards saving the Albatross than any man aboard.” r CHAPTER VIII. A BANQUET AFLOAT—‘‘TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS” —MR, NERO IN THE CHAIR—MR. FIGGINS RE- SPONDS—HIs ACCIDENT WITH NERO—PANTOM- INE WITH A MAMMOTH PIE—UNLUCKY BOGHY! Aut work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. Our Jack was a real good one to work, as we all know. He could play, too. Moreover, he could make others play, and en- i joy his fun. he carpenter and his mate were sent down below to the hold, to caulk and patch and trim the sott-wooded old carcass in the most danger- ous places, before the water could gain upon her again, and while this was going forward, Jack and his chum, Harry Girdwood, entertained a select party,by special permission of the skipper, in their own ¢abin. Jack stood treat. It was not a very grand affair, but the honest tars thought it a banquet fit for the gods. Jack now treated them, by. the steward’s aid, toa stewed rabbit, and smoking hot potatoes. ceoked in their jackets, some boiled pork, an pease pudding and other delicacies. Some prime corned beef was on the festive board,too,and there was beer and grog to moisten it withal; so that the guests voted Jack a trump, and drank hishealth in bumpers around to an ac- companiment of ringing cheers. Now,among the company assembled to do honor to the oceasion were the two young darkeys, Tinker and his “‘valet,” Bogey, for much to Mur- ray’s and Chivey’s disgust, they had by this time found out the ghostly trick played upon them by Jack’s boy, Tinker, but to tell'the truth, they were both glad that Tinker was not killed. Our faithful old friend Nero was seated in the place of honor, dressed in a glittering naval uni- form and a grand cocked hat. } Nero did not take it for a laughing matter, we can assure you, buf sat at the head of the table as grave and dignified as though he had been the lord high admiral himself. ‘*My Lord Nero,” said Jack, filling his glass, “‘T drink to the health of the skipper, Captain Deering.” Captain Deering!” shouted the sailor guests. “Stop a bit, gentlemen,” said Mr. Figgins, getting on his legs; ‘‘let’s haye Captain Deering with due honors.” “Three times three?” “ A fh Ru ‘‘No,” cried Nat Cringle, ‘‘ with nine times nine at the very least. Take the time from me, please, and all together—hip—hip—hip, hurrah!” “Hurrah!” : “ Hurrah!” You would searcely have thought it possible that they could be on board a ship which one and all had condemned so recently. } A ship which would, beyond all doubt, have gone down with skipper and crew, but for their manful and untiring exertions. — “ And now a little one in,’ said Nat Cringle, waving his hand, ; They responded, too, with a will, one and all. ‘Wor he’s a jolly good fellow, For he’s a jolly good fellow, For he’s a jolly good fellow, And so say all of us, And so say all of us, And so say all of us, With a hip—hip, hurrah!” And so forth, with a general chorus, ad lib. Jack noticed that Nero had a knack of swing- ing his glass around, as he responded by gestures to the invitation to give a toast, matching all his master’s movements with startling fidelity. So he prepared. ‘ “Charge your glasses,” cried the orphan, in the pompous manner of a toast-master at a pub- c banquet; ‘“‘bumpers, gentlemen.” . Jack filled Nero’s gla up, and then catch- ing his eye, Jack waved his own gies: which was empty, around to the right, witha jerky air, Nero followedsuit, = = 3 my Yab-yah-yah!”, aay Now Mr. Figgins was Nero’s next-door neigh- bor, and the orphan received the contents of Nero’s glass down his collar, and over his shirt front, and the glass, slipping from Nero’s hand, gre id the orphan in the face, “Halloo!” “Murder!” yelled Mr. Figgins, springing up. Nero grew frightened, and jumped on to the table at once, playing havoc with the dishes. Mr. Figgins scrambled out of his seat, and H made for the companion ladder. But somehow or other he got the leg of acamp stool between his legs, and tripped up. ; Nero jumped on his back in a jiffy, and tha sailors laughed until the tears ran down their cheeks, , “ el ite “Go it, Nero!” ‘Murder! take the monster off,” “Keep it up, Nero! hi—hi!” Nero wanted noinciting to mischief. He was as playful asa kitten, and we veril believe that he understood fun as well as his friends and patrons generally. “Help !”. yelled Mr. Figgins; he’ll murder me! ‘ He grew desperate in his struggling, and scrambling to his feet, he tripped Nero over. One desperate plunge, and he reached the stairs. 5 Three at a time he went up them. But poor Mr. Figgins’ troubles were not yet at an end, At the foot of the stairs he encountered Bogey, who was descending with a huge sea-pie swing- ing about in a mammoth dish, full of smoking hot gravy. The orphan was shooting up head forward,and pressed down like an old goat butting an enemy. and he shot just tnder the sea-pie, and lande Bogey in the belly, oney elled. “ i olly!” Down fell the dish, pie, orphan and all—a reg- ular smoking avalanche—that rolled along the orphan’s back, while the stinging hot gravy found a channel for itself between his shirt collar and his flesh. The result was that Mr. Figgins’ undercloth- ing was literally saturated with the luscious juice, which was unpleasantly warm. t Down he went the whole length of the cabin floor, considerably faster even than he had gone up the stairs. Down flopped Bogey, plump onto the orphan’s stomach, And up he got, “looking,” as Nat Cringle said, “all ways for Sunday.” “Golly! what dis allmean?” . . That was all that the astonished darkey could manage to iterate, ‘ It had all been so sudden and unexpected. “Oh!” groaned Mr. Figgins; ‘‘why did I leave my happy home on land to come to sea,and meet with such disasters—oh!” The company literally yelled with delight. Sailors are a rough lot, and there are few tars but relish practical joking. > Mr. Figgins, sitting up, with the gravy stream- ing down his hair and cheeks, presented such a ludicrous and deplorable figure, that if was no wonder that they laughed. ‘“Ha—ha—ha!” } “You may laugh,” he said, ruefully, “but how would you like hot jmce from a pie down your back? Just you answer me that.” — “Capital!” ejaculated young Harkaway; ‘‘it must be nice.” ; ‘So sweet!” chimed in Harry Girdwood. “But it was well done, Mr. Figgins,” said Jack, “I had ne idea you had got such spirits for'a lark, sir.” f “What!” cried the astounded Mr. Figgins. A. lark!” : 4 “Yes, Why, you would have made an im- mense fortune, sir, as a harlequin in the panto- mime.” \ “Give him a cheer.” They did, too. : i “Do you mean to say,” began the orphan at length, when he could succeed in obtaining a | hearing, ‘that you think I did it for fun?” tS “Of course you did,” said Jack. ; Aika i re assure you,” began the orphan, : “Dat, sar,” said Tinker, bowing at oe gins, “am awful gollopshus beastly fine lark ob yourn, sar. i f Fy: : “Massa Figgins come down, And crecuatta crown, And Bogey come tumbling after.
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TINKER’S MAN BOGEY. Tinker’s new version of Jack and Jill was high- ly applauded by one and all present, “Dat all bery fine, Massa Figleaf,” said Bogey, “but you spile dis chile’s beauty.” “Bravo, Bogey!” ‘And dis chile don’t like it, sar, Be golly, sar. Dis chile owe you one, Massa Figleaf, for dat —oh!” “Hold your catawampus ‘jaw, you ignorant nigger,” cried Tinker, shying ahot and soft po- tato at his follower’s head, “and listen to your s’perior hossifer; Massa Figgins do it lubly bew’ful.” “Bravo for funny ie cel “His health in a bumper around, mess- mates.” ; His health was then given with all due honors. The poor orphan began to think that he was hSeing made fun of. * * “Mr. Harkaway.” ‘*Halloo!” “Wanted, sir.” “By whom?” “The captain.” “Tm there,” responded young Jack, springing * % * * up. Mite flew up the cabin stairs, and was with Cap- tain Deering in half a crack. “Sent for me, sir?” ‘Yes, Mr. Harkaway,” said the skipper. ‘I’m sotry to break in upon your festivity, but duty *“Must be obeyed, sir,” responded young Jack. “Quite right,” said the captain. ‘Well, then, the Ne I find, is freshening again,” “ al ; “Pass the word to Nat Cringle, and old— what-d’ye-call-him?—to come up.” 5 —ay, sir! “We net keep her away. Clear away the fore-topsail,” he suddenly sang out. Then watching for a smooth chance, he gave the order to hoist away. The sail quickly set. The helm was put up, and the lee main braces checked a foot or two, the object of this man- euver being to ease the wind out of the topsail. CHAPTER IX. FIGHTING WITH DEATH—A TOUGH STRUGGLE, AND . - reach shore safe and sound than he had Prilcciey you like,” syy wy fs) ti anticipated. BEATEN AFTER ALL—“LOOK TO YOUR LIFE RAFT, AS SMART AS YOU LIKE!” Ir was amoment—a good long one,by the way, of considerable anxiety to all. ) It wasno joke what Captain Deering was after now. The danger of the movement precious soon made itself apparent. The sea caught the ship abeam, and as it did s0,a tremendous wave was seen curling up astern, rushing on in pursuit of the Albatross as if to engulf it. ring like a hungry monster for its helpless prey, if came on. “Hold fast!” yelled the captain; ‘‘hold on for your lives, men, fore and aft.” Harry Girdwood and Jack, holding by each other, and with their disengaged hands grasping the nearest ropes they could clutch, were jerked so violently that their wrists were well-nigh dis- located, and it was marvelous indeed that they were not one and all swallowed up by the sea. The only thing which saved the Albatross from instant destruction, was the fact of the bulwarks peo, washed away in pieces by the severity of the late gale. The Albatross quivered from stem to stern! However, as soon as the water found its way off the decks rapidly, the ship paid off quickly ‘ enough, and in the course of a few moments they were going along dead before the gale. The force of the wind was felt much less, of course, than when they went head to it. ; The sea, however, was very heavy. Soonafter this one monster wave came roar- ing after them astern like a mountain suddenl invested with life, and they saw that althoug there was not the same danger as in the previous visitation, there was a precious ugly shock to be. Tt was a terrible shock this time. Young Jack thought they were gone for a cer- tainty. Even i he was in a thundering rage. Because why? “He was going to get alot more trouble to ed for,” not that his faith in his wonderful goo luck deserted him even then, i old Nat Cringle avowed afterwards that | The sheets were now hauled aft, and the fore- sail had been loosed, and the ship shot faster tbrovgh the water, The whole topsails were now set and matters looked more promising. Once more they had, by the prompt and skil- ful seamanship of the skipper, escaped a deadly peril. But there was no rest for the hard-worked crew. “Pump ship!” sang out the first mate; ‘all hands pump ship!” “That's a good thing,” growled Nat Cringle, with an oath. “You're right there, Nat,” said a voice at his elbow. Nat turned around. “Ax pardon, Captain Deering,” said the old salt, with a grin, ‘‘but I should like to be wrung out fust.” : “Help keep this old sponge afloat, Nat Crin- gle,” said the skipper, with a fierce air of deter- mination, ‘“‘and you shall get wrung out.” “T ain’t ateart iu “Quite right,” said Captain Deering, with a smile, ‘‘but help keep the ship afloat, Nat, for the sake of the rest of them, and for——” “For what?” *'To help pay off old scores with the owner, old Murray.” “T will, sir.” “And my friend, Captain Joe Robinson.” ‘Damme, that I will!” said Nat Cringle, hearti- ly. AE in that moment old Nat was all over the ship. ending one a hand here, and encouraging the half-drowned, shivering crew there by his cheery | gj voice and valuable assistance, * * * * * * “What do you think of matters now, Captain Deering?” The speaker was our young hero, Jack Harka- way. “ Ttll take us all our time to pull through un- less we sight land within a reasonable time.” “ Aah!’ It was enough to make the listener say “hah!” The ship labored and groaned ominously. There was no possible doubt about the peril. But the danger was not immediate. Good seamanship and incessant labor at the pumps kept her afloat. But Captain Deering told those to whom he could safely entrust his views—that it was but a question of time. _ ‘We may yet pull through,” he said, “if we sight land soon, or if we fall in with assistance, and get towed into port.”” Eagerly they scanned the horizon with their glasses. All in vain. : Not the faintest speck in sight wherever they looked. * * * * * * “Nat, captain wants you.” “Ay—ay, sir.” Nat Cringle ran up on deck to the skipper. Captain Deering waslooking anxiously ahead, and so engrossed with his observations that he did not hear the old tar’s approach. “Here I am, sir.” ‘What do you think now, Nat?” “Well, I think——” j é “Out with it, Nat; no palavering with me,you know.” K : } “Well, then, I think as it’s as nigh all up with the Albatross as it well can be.” The skipper sighed. : “Just my notion, Nat,” he said; ‘not that I’m going to give in yet awhile; only let us be pre-. pared.” / “Ay—-ay, sir.” “For the sake of the passengers, if not for our- selves, get the ship’s carpenter, and see what you can get Ld ane between you towards fix- ingup a big li ‘e raft.” Ves, Sir, ma “That with the boats will perhaps enable us to save all.” “Perhaps, sir.” _ “But, hang the thieves, theyll get the insur- ance money then,” growled the skipper. — ‘Not sure yet, your honor,” said Nat; “et’s make ourselves sure first, and then have a turn at the rotten old hull again.” i “How’s the well?” ’ “Mortal bad.” | _ “So I feared; so look to your raft as smart as ‘ a ward, and catching his old comrade CHAPTER X. THE HARKAWAYS AT HOME—OLD JACK’S TROU- BLE—THE VISIT FROM OVER THE SEA—AN UN- LUCKY POSTMAN—YOUNG JACK HARKAWAY’S LAST WORDS. WE will now return for ashort time to ourold friends at home. d Matters went badly with the Harkaways.. When we say the Harkaways, we mean the} family ashore, and not the son and heir of theh house, whom we leftafloatin a coffin ship. Not a word of information could old Jack or his friends glean to give them a hope for their darling boy’s safety. “T have behaved like a fool, Dick, for allowin my bold boy to go in that coffin ship,” he woul say again and again to his faithful old friend and companion, Harvey. And it was in vain that Dick Harvey essayed to condole with and comfort him. “You are too hard upon yourself, Jack,” Dick returned, firmly. ‘You acted upon cool judg~ ment, and if you have been deceived, the fault is certainly not yours.” Harkaway and his friend, Dick, had just fin- ished their walk and segar, when they were met at the door of the house by Mrs. Barkaway. ; “Oh, Jack, look at this,” she said, la to a paragraph in the newspaper she held. “Tl come in and read it,” said old Jack: “there’s no urgent reason for reading it in the street, my dear, I sup “Tt is not a matter returned, f Impressed by her manner, Harkaway took the aaa and ran his eyes down the paragraph in- cated. It was headed thus: “MISSING SHIPS. “The Albatross has not been heard of since st : for smiling at, Jack,” she sailed, on the 13th inst. This vessel has late! citi into the hands of Mr. Murray, whose ba ‘ortune with his vessels has been a general theme for gossip of late in the shipping world. Strange rumors have been circulating about her. The owner, however, was fully insured.” The paper fell from old Jack’s hand. — . 1) ioe insured!” he gasped. ‘It is impossi- CH 4 “Tt must be another vessel of the same name,” said Harvey. “I know Murray told us that his vessels were so good he never insured,” “Look here, Jack,” said Mrs. Harkaway, with astartling voice, “‘Murray has played us false, and I fear oar poor boy is in sore peril. Oh, hus- band, where’s onr Jack?” At this juncture a newsboy went past with a flaming placard in his hand. “earful shipwreck and loss of life! All hands perished! Full and particular account—price’ “Emily!” ~/ Harkaway just turned around in time to catch heras she fell in a death-like swoon into his arms. ‘ , The strain on young Jack’s mother’s nerves was too great—she had fainted. Some few days after the above events,a sailor came to the house to inquire for old Jack, and the latter, who was seated smoking a pipe with Harvey and Mr. Mole, gaye orders to have the sailor admitted, } : { “You want me?” said old Jack, with a look of surprise. “We picked up a bottle. tar, ‘and inside we found rected to you, so as soon as we got within sight yer honor,” said the - of land, the captain sent me ashore with it. I made inquiries, and——” * : ‘““Where’s the bottle?” ‘ “Here.” ° From the cracked bottle he drew forth ai(4 ter, and handed it to Harkawa Mole looked at Dick, and Jack. The latter had grown as pale as a sheet. 5 » “Take something to drink, shipmate,” sé ic. Harvey to the sailor; ‘‘there’s brandy in that but-! tle; serve yourself.” 4 4 Old Jack tore the letter open. : “Stop a bit,” said Mr. Mole, jumping up and clapping his hand over the letter; ‘‘just take a aa at the bottle first.” Old Jack took a stiff glass of brandy, and Micke Nagle’ read. Act ee The paper fell from his hands, and he sank back with a groan of anguish. a Up ees “Jack!” cried poor Harvey, a letter that was di- — ty hi 4a," Pa
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TINKER’S MAN, BOGEY. “Sack, old friend, don’t—don’t take on so. What is it?” But Harkaway could not auswer. Dick picked up the letter and read. This was young Jack’s letter, which he had a a to the waves in a time of deadly peril. “My Dmar FATHER AND MorHmr:—The Alba- tross is what they call a coffin ship, and we are near the end of a oe hard fight for life. | Forgive Ngee poor Jack for being so pig-headed as to insist upon leaving you, and don’t waste time in regretting and mourning after Harry and I; but seek out that old Murray, and that hypocritical Captain Robinson. Take one each, aed. you and Uncle Dick, and give them a thun- dering good larrupping, and when you have knocked them both into a good jelly, seek out some influential man in the Great Talking House, and get him to lift his voice to get this scandal- ous state of things reformed. Here we are, I can- not tell you how many of us epenegiave and crew, all sent afloat in a rotten old tub, painted and caulked up spruce, and puffed up to impose upon poor, iguorant fools. Now, we’re not gone yet, but it looks unpleasantly like going, and so in case the law can’t reach these dealers in hu- man life, I leave them to you and to Uncle Dick. J hope to come back yet, and so does Harry, who sends his love to all, if we don’t. Good-by, per- haps forever, dear father and mother. “ JACK.” Young Jack’s letter was finished rather abrutly. His father guessed that some calamity had overtaken the ship. But it was not so. The simple reason was that he and Harry had » been summoned by an alarm to the deck, and fearing that they might not have another chance of posting their missive, it was placed in its bot- tle and dropped overboard. { * * * # * Ces Nhen they had finished reading the letter, 4h Mole was observed to grow very fidgety 41 red in the face. He stumped up and down the room, thrusting 3 hands viciously into his pockets, and drag- | ‘ag _ them out again—and then cracking his ‘uckles with small reports, like Barcelonas go- ing Pp! rl ‘IT don’t feel very well, Jack,” he said, blow- ing his nose hard to disguise his emotion; “I— —in fact I shall go for a walk—good-night, I mean, morning, I—I’m going to bed.” And with this somewhat confused valediction, Mr. Mole glided out of the room. Jack stared at Dick—Dick stared at Jack. | “What's the matter with poor old Mole?” said ey. Old Tio shook his head, and tapped ‘his fore- head significantly. “Going. Yes!” _ "So I think.” : “J think that this dreadful news has done it for the poor fellow; he was so fond of Jack.” “T verily believe,” said old Jack, wrestling with his grief, “I verily believe he would give every farthing he has in the world for those two wild boys to be here, and play off their cruel practical jokes at his expense.” “T am sure he would,” said Dick. The conversation flagged now for several min- utes. “Tack.” “Dick.” “The boys have left us a legacy to punish the villains Murray and Robinson.” _'Tltell you what,” said Harkaway, “you shall take charge of old Murray, and I'll lookafter the welfare of jovial Captain Robinson.” ‘CA greed.” The two friends grasped hands in silence. Thus the compact was sealed, and now woe be- tide jovial Captain Robinson and the ship-owner, whenever Harkaway or Ditk Harvey should come across them. “Jack,” said Harvey, coolly, ‘you brought home from Australia with you, a short-handled ~tack-whip, with a thick leather thong?” ‘Nd Jack started. ‘You don’t mean to say that you will use that the villain?” , That's just exactly what I do mean,” said wvey. Tt shall be at your service, Dick.” s So Harkaway went for the stock-whi i _ If Mr. Murray could but have overheard the conversation, he would not have felt very easy in his mind. : _ Altogether matters looked ugly for him. ayy MG Sy CHAPTER XI, ARTFUL MOLE—MOLE THE EXECUTOR—HIS SIN- GULAR PRESENT FOR MR. MURRAY—A NOVEL DUEL—SHARP WORK—MR. MURRAY TASTES THE BITTERS OF HIS PROFESSION, Isaac Moxie went to his room and got out a pistol case. He was engaged in loading his six-shooter when his wife crept into the room. “Evins an’ erf, Ikey!” she ejaculated, aghast, “what you doing thar?” Mr. Mole looked up a bit startied, but went on loading the revolver. “Ask no questions,my dear,” he answered, “but fetch me my walking stick.” Chloe, considerably flurried, hastened to obey her lord and master. ; “Which walking stick?” Mr. Mole paused to reflect. It was a weighty matter, and demanded re- flection, for he had a regular collection of walk- ing canes, andit was necessary for his purpose to get a good pliable stick. “Let it be the Malacca cane, with the gold a he said. he returned withit in a few moments. ‘“‘Where you goin’ to, Ikey?” she demanded. “That, my dear, concerns me alone,” replied Mr. Mole. ‘“‘Have the goodness for once in your life to repress your curiosity.” “Bress my ’art——” began the dark lady. ‘“Repress your curiosity,” said Mr. Mole inom “for Puavaatt the remotest intention of telling But he was gone. 4 And very soon was knocking at Mr. Murray’s oor. “Mr. Murray!” “Yes, sir.” “Take my card,” said Mr. Mole, ‘‘and my com- liments, should like to have a word with im. The maid servant went to her master, but shortly returned to say that Mr. Murray was very particularly engaged just then, and would accept an appointment for another time, 1f Mr. Mole could conveniently defer his business. “That is precisely what I can’t do,” returned the old gentleman. ‘Will Ae go back to Mr. Murray, therefore, and tell him that I have something for him?” Back went the girl, and returned in a few mo- ments. { : “Master’s compliments, sir, and if you would send itin by me, he would take it as a favor.” Mr. Mole smiled. An odd smile it was—yet still a smile—of a kind. “T can’t,” he said, shaking his gold-headed Malacca cane nervously as he spoke. ‘‘I must hand it to Mr. Murray personally.” , This carried the day. Mr. Mole was ushered into the shipowner’s presence forthwith. Mr, Murray sat in an armchair before an of- fice-table, which was covered with business books and papers. He looked up and arose as Mr. Mole entered. But Mr. Mole had his back turned. He was apparently engaged in shutting the door after the servant. Mr. Murray did not observe shat his visitor not only shut the door, but also locked it and pocketed the key. } “Good-morning, Mr. Mole,” said the ship-own- er; ‘‘you will excuse my refusal to see you at first, sir, but I have been ill for some consider- able time, and the accumulation of business matters during that time, has driven me into a corner. I cannot get the arrears of work under at all.” : “J shall not detain you long,” returned Mr. Mole. ; ‘Take a seat, sir.” Mr. Mole declined. , “What I have to do is best done standing.” “My servant informs me you have brought something for me,” said the shipowner. “Quite right.” ' “Tam much beholden to you for the pains have taken,” said Mr. Murray. Mr. Mole smiled. “T have taken no pains, Mr. Murray,” he an- swered; “‘it is you who will have to take the pains.” REE, Sipe ; on hat is it you have brought for me, may I ask j Mr. Mole held up the gold-headed Malacca, you SSRIs: ‘Excuse me, sir,” said Mr. Murray, in his blandest tone, ‘‘but I don’t quite see, even now ‘Don’t you?” said Mr. Mole, ‘then I will ex- plain.” He drew a step nearer to the shipowner. The latter shrank back instinctively, ‘Tam, as you are doubtless aware, the per- sonal friend of Mr. Harkaway, and was tutor of his son, who has gone a voyage in the Albatross.” Mr. Murray winced. “A fine ship, the Albatross, sir, Al at Lloyd’s, T believe,” f “Yes, sir,” returned Mr. Murray, in an un- steady voice. , “Of course,” said Mr. Mole, in the same strain, “a gallant craft, and you are a happy man to possess such a vessel.” Mr, Murray could not stand this. “You will excuse the question,” he said, in a hard voice that had no ring in it, “but is this the object of your visit, sir? “Patience, Mr. Murray, patience, and you will learn.” “T must really——” “No, i musn’t!” interrupted Mole. ly, I ” “Rea ay “Sir,” quoth Mr, Mole, emphatically, and banging down the gold-headed Malacca cane between each word, on the shipowner’s writin table, as if to give extra force to his speech, ‘ must tell my business in my own way. I say, then, that the Albatross is a noble Gratien C) eraft!’ is the word I believe—so expressive—so romantic—so jolly Jack Tarish!—not a bit of a coffin ship!” : The shipowner started back, “How dare you?” he began. come here?” “Tcame to bring you a present,” said Mr. Mole, as cool as ever. ‘“‘The noble craft is gone to the bottom—the gallant Albatross is lying in goodness knows how many fathoms, or exactly where, but from all report, not a long way from the Bay of Biscay.” Mr. Murray poured out a tumbler of water, and drank it off. The interview grew warm and he was silent. “My murdered boy—stand still and hear me out,” added Mole, sternly, ‘‘or by the Lord Har- ry I'll make an example of you! My murdered boy, I say—the brave young Jack found time as the Albatross was going down, to write a letter ~—his will I may call it—telling all he knew, all he had learned on board since sailing, and as he was dropping into the watery grave to which you consigned him-——” “Sir? “He had learned, too late, alas! the exact na- ture of the trade which you pursue.” “T don’t understand what you mean.” ‘*You soon will.” y Mr. Murray detected something in old Mole’s voice which raised dire misgivings. So he stretched out his hand to reach the bell- rope. But before he could accomplish his pur- pose, Mr. Mole hopped over and brought down the gold-headed acca a very smart rap on his knuckles. “Ob {? “Stand still.” ; Mr. Murray bridled up at this, and stepped forth. J While only menaced with scandal, he was fill- ed with the a ach fear. But now that the visitor grew more demon- strative yet, his sensations changed. He was not to say physically a coward. Moreover, Isaac Mole with his venerable ap- pearance, and his two wooden legs, did not look a very formidable antagonist. “Tf you don’t instantly quit my house,” he said, shaking his fist at the visitor, “I shall put you out of the window.” “Oh, you will?” ‘ “T will.” Mole smiled. i “That is something better,” he said, quietly; “up till now, you have shown that you are only ossessed of the assassin’s brutal instinct without aving anything of such kind of courage as many of the worst murderers are known to pos- RSs aphal Red “Tt isyat any rate,” pursued Mr. Mole, who declined to be flurried undér any pretext what- “How dare you ever, “itis at any rate refreshing to find you — have a dash of something like a man in you, for Jack’s present—this is old Jack’s present,” he. added, giving the walking stick a parenthetical flourish; “‘it is an honest good cane, and I should not like to dirty it by contact with anything y
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TINKER’S MAN, BOGEY. 30 utterly degraded as I feared you would rove. . Mr. Murray grew livid. *You—you—~” “Gently, ently,” said Mr. Mole, prove tpeelt your best friend,” “Infamous old ruffian,” cried Mr. Murray. “Thank you, Cll proveit. Jack’s legacy was to have ood brought by his father; [ wanted the office for two reasons; first, because I looked upon io as ay rivilege and my right; secondly, I want you to have half a chance—we are both old men, and in addition I am a cripple, as you see; now that equalizes matters, but if Mr. Hark- away had brought you his son’s legacy, you mee never have crossed that threshold alive!” “So,” said Mr. Murray, very white yet very determined, “assassination is your intention.” ae | punishment only,” responded Mole. “and I'll “vour villany may not prove get-at-able by law—may not, I say—we have to try that yet. So for fear of a miscarriage of Justice, I am here to fulfil my dear, murdered boy’s dyin injunctions, and believe me, Mr. Murray,” adde the old gentleman with an odd mixture of satire and pathetic earnestness as he held out the cane, “the finest. advocate in the world could never wheedle Jack’s legacy into believing you are guiltless.” “*You are mad!” Mr. Mole turned up his wristband. “We are wasting time.” “Leave the house!” exclaimed Mr. Murray, “or I'll have you dragged off to jail——” He slipped to the door and turned the handle, Tt was fast. “Tocked!” “As you see, my dear sir,” responded Mole, quite leasantly. ere’s the key?” “T have got it.” “Give it up, or——” He made one stride up to Mole, who raised the cane. Down it came, cutting the air with the most vicious music, and it left its mark across the ship- owner’s forehead and face. Staggered for a moment, Mr. Murray made a rush at his assailant. But the old gentleman, as cool as a eueoauber still, whirled around upon one of his wooden legs, and’ seized Murra: by the coat collar with the jJeft hand, while with’ ie right he banged away at his shoulders and back A. dozen strokes were uit in thus with such vig- or and rapidity, that Mr. Murray was fain to weep himself free, and stagger across the ropat Isaac Mole would not be denied. He stumped after his man as fast as he could, and dropped in another or two wherever he could. One smart cut across the face brought blood, and the shipowner, in the space of a minute, pr - sented a very alarming aspect. But Mr, Mole never paused to consider this. ‘ Murray was now getting very badly punished, and it was necessary to take a serious step. Ho took it. Feinting to dart to the door, he made a sudden rush at his writing table, and dragged open one of the drawers. Mole was after him. Only the table between them, and he saw what it was the shipowner was after. He saw his hand upon a pistol, and so he whip- ped out his own revolver, and stretching over the table, he thrust it into Mr. Murray’s face. “Put down that pistol,” he said, in low, earn- est tones; “put it down, or Pl blow you to ger iS Mr. Murray paused. “Put it down, I say,” replied Mole; ‘in three | pe etite seconds you are a dead man else—hah!” The ship owner cowered before that revolver. Death was unpleasantly near, and few men ean face it in such proximity with aera like He dro He dropped the pistol. “Shut the drawer,” said Mote, sternly. “If 3 Von use firearms, so shall I, and I have first shot. provided against such an “emergency as this.” “Assassin!” gaspéd the shipowner. “Not I,” returned Mole, “I am Jack’s executor, nothing more. Lo er—throw over the key, do you hear?” a a scowl of undying hate the shipowner ied reluctantl sr put b me pistol,” said Mole, suiting hs, action, to the word, ‘‘and we resume the - _thrashing. nia fe wa ba around the table after his man. Mr. Murray waited a little. or youn, the ligt Then he shot away. Mole stumped after him. Murray looked about bim anxiously. Then his glance resting upon the fire-place, he Goneet a vicious cut which Mole aimed at him, ounced upon the poker, ow, you old vagabond!” he said, or rather hissed, serpent fashion, “we are equ ual.” “Not quite,” said Mole, “you have a bit of the advantage; no matter.” It was ‘truly a most extraordinary sight. T'wo men, well on in vears, one with a pair of wooden legs, facing each other, armed with wee ons of a more or less offensive description. dies awkward for Mole. ys aed against a walking-cane was no fair match. Mole had his revolver to the good, itis true, bnt he would not use it. Moreover, the shipowner felt assured that he had to do with a man of his word. So his courage arose as he advanced to meet his wooden-legged adversary. ‘“You shall suffer now, you villanous ruffian!” he exclaimed. “Indeed?” replied Mr. Mole, coolly. The old gentleman kept a sharp look-out, and just as the shipowner drew back to deal him a desperate blow with the B esetl Mr. Mole drop- ped in such a stinger on Murray’s hand that the poker fell from his grasp,‘and the knuckles were cut o en. ‘Now for it.” Mole pounced upon his man, and showered down such a succession of blows, that Murray, stunned,confused,and pounded into a jelly, could not offer the feeblest registance. “Take that,” cried thé infuriated Mole, pound- ing away vigorously, ‘ ‘and that—and that,and I wish I had more wind left in me to—stay, here’s one more for poor Harry Girdwood.” It was but one. But such a one. i It seemed to lay the unhappy man’s back are, “And now,” said Isaac Mole, readjusting his disordered dr ‘ess, ‘‘I’ll go home to dinner.” “You'll suffer for owner. “That's doubtful,” returned Mole; ‘‘but there is no doubt in life that A will. t me give you a word of advice. eep clear of Mx. Hark- away; I have been merciful.” Murray groaned, “But he will have no mercy on his son’s de- stroyer. Keep yourself under lock and key. Do you hear? For once let John Harkaway or Rich- ard Harvey get within arm’s reach of you, and Heaven haye mercy upon your miserable carcass. They are both youi er ae old ripples di tis fished out the key and opened the door. ‘Don’t you think to escape like that,” moaned the shipowner, crawling to the bell. “Nor you, either,” returned Mole, turning round, ‘for we mean to have the very best law that is to be bought for money, to pepper you with,and we’llsee if you haven’t a part more nerable than your body, I mean your pocket.” He went out. But as he closed the door, an idea occurred to him, and so he pushed open the door and popped in his head. “Your accomplice, Captain Robinson, has turned king’s evidence,” he said. This was not to say the downright truth, as you know. Yet it served for a parting shot at Mr. Mur- With which, Mr. Mole stumped back to din- ner, BAERY in his mind and with a ravenous ap- this,” groaned the ship- and vigorous men, not mis- ike yours obediently, Isaac CHAPTER XII. MR. MURRAY’S MISFORTUNES—THE DOOR CHAIN —ANOTHER VISITOR FOILED—‘' LOOK TO IT, FOR I AM ON THE WATCH.” Mr. Murray arose from the floor, bruised and bleeding. Isnac Mole had piled it on pretty stiffly, and his arm fell heavily. What was to be done? He would seek assistance in the town. It would be better for him to have a sturdy man-servant always upon the premises, so that if any of the Harkaway people should venture again to intrude upon him, he would be prepared to meet violence with violence, Mr. Murray opened the door, and found him- aan face to face with a maid servant. i sir?’ fusedly, and a a little vinous stimulant stea a bit. ris, and make him provide me with a good bi fellow as a body anand a = knocking, or - would have perceive door was 0} not well, and I can’t see anybo Ys “No—no; of course not,” & sea ' 2 “Jane!” r Yes,” said the girl. “Are you ill again, “No. ” : BS thought I heard you call out, sir.” Mr. Murray stammered out ‘something con- ‘ew very flushed in the face. “No—no, Jane, I am well enough—that is, better—I am better, Jane, only pay attention to me, Jane.” oN es sirer ete anyone comes to ask for me, don’t admit : them until I have given you orders.” “No, sir, Pll show them into the parlor, and ie Pll see if you are visible or not, sir.’ No—no—no!” exclaimed the shipowner, eagerly, ‘“‘you are wrong, Jane; that is precise- ly what you must not do, Jane.’ “What then, sir?” ‘Keep the chain Up always.” “That’s odd, sir.’ “Hold your tongue!” exclaimed Mr. Murray, testily, ‘and make no reflections upon the orders I give you. Keep the chain up.” = Lor’, yes, sir!” “So that you can always keep anybody out if you don’t choose to admit them. Once for all, attend to that, for I don’t choose to have a par~ cel of insolent beggars forcing their way in and insulting me in my own house.” “T sball know that wicked old sinner ag’in, ae ursued Jane, mentally denouncing poor fe) pose, so most likely he’ll try on the seaman who was was whirled up on a saw mill, or, in fact, any- thing just to change his luck when he has his next turn; though, ts eee him for one while, by the way you ole; “he’s got nothing out of you, I sup- - blown up, or the respectable mechanic who [ll bet you've rayther iven it to him this time, and—bless me!” at is it?” exclaimed Mr. Murray, with a start ‘You've tore your coat.” “Bah! what of that?” “Nothing much, for you can a lots more; only it’s a pity to waste good clothing over such an old villain as that was; that’s all think, sir, . and—oh, Lor?!” “What now?” “You've got a bruise on your face, sir.” “Hold your tongue. Bear in mind what [have | told you about that door chain.” Saying which, Mr. Murray turned back inte ~ the room, and slammed-to the door. Mr. Murray surveyed himself in a glass. Unpleasant reflection in two senses of the ex- - pression. His face was bruised. : His coat was torn. Moreover, his general appearance was disor dered, as well it might be by the violence of the late encounter. Mr. Murray renovated himself at once, A touch with the comb, a poe. e of garments, ied his nerves “The first thing will be to get around to Har He was about to remove the chain and = ; forth, when a knock came at the door be bs m him jump. A rat-tat-tat! Mr. Murray started back as the tall figure of a man stood in the doorway. He recognized him, too, immediately, Harvey! Yes, Dick Harvey was ie ie perform his part of his contract with old Jac Little did he suppose that he had been fore- stalled. How could he, or anyone, in fact, expect Isaac Mole to turn champion? Dich had been engrossed in thought after that the et Fake it * ‘push, but the chain held it fast. ‘Ha! Dick thrust his head in, and looked around, to find himself face to face with the very man he had come to see.” “Mr. Murray.” j “Pm out,” exclaimed br Pra ied “Tm “Pl not detain you long,” a4 Dick, coaxing- “One word.” ' . “What is it?” te “Let down the chain,” said Dick. “Impossible; it will not come undone.” ne, This exasperated Diek, who lost his atesen if “You lying old villain. Can't face me, L sup-
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TINKER’S MAN, BOGEY. “Be off.” **You know what I come for.” “T do,” retorted Murray; “and if you are not off, I will calla policeman and haye you given in custody.” “Tl wait,” said the artful Dick, ‘if you like to come out and make the charge.” “Not I,” returned the shipowner; ‘“‘T’ll watch until a policeman passes, and give orders, that’s what Pll do.” This would not suit Dick. “Very well, Mr. Murray,” he said, ‘‘very well. Since that is your notion,{ can afford to wait my opportunity.’ “Wait, then—wait,” retorted the shipower, dient let me caution you. I mean to invoke the law. “You dare not,” said Dick—‘‘you dare not, and ou know it. What you say is mere idle brag. ark you, old man. If there is any justice in Providence, fete will have to go afloat in a coffin ship yourself, and go down with it—experience yourself the horrors of drowning. When I hear that that has been your fate, I can perhaps for- give you. But while you are on dry land, look , to your miserable self. I am on the watch.” a * * # * * “A telegram for you, sir,” said the maid-ser- vant, entering the shipowner’s room. ‘How you startled me,” exclaimed Mr. Mur- Tay ‘there, that'll do.” e tore open the telegram, and read it down. His face turned ashy pale, and he gasped at the sight of that paper. And yet the news it brought was the most welcome news that he could possibly have de- “Here is that which would gladden the hearts of those Harkaway people if I took it to them. But no; let them pine and languish in bitterness of spirit as I have done. That will teach them not to try on their villany again. The assassins! No man ever yet affronted me with impunity. TU keep it to myself, and I'll be off at once—ay, this wvery night, if I can get away from this port. The news contained in that telegram would in- deed have gladdened the Harkaways. But before we give the reader the information upon this head, let us return to follow the for- _ tunes of young Jack and his comrade Harry Girdwood. CHAPTER XIII. THE FATE OF THE ‘‘ALBATROSS’—FOUNDERED IN FAIR WEATHER—“MAN THE BOATS”—THIC ROLL CALL—THE OWNER’S SON AND HIS MAN—A POOR ORPHAN AND THE NEW BREAKFAST . | RELISH—OVERBOARD. AND did the wretched old Albatross go down? 0. ; Thanks to the admirable seamanship of her commander and to the perseverance and undy- _ ing energy of the crew, to which they were inno slight geeres stimulated by the example of youn, arkaway and Harry Girdwood, the ‘Albatross weathered the gale. tt was a precious near squeak with her. They ran for the Spanish coast, and once they had sighted land, they never ceased firing min- > ute guns, and they hoisted signals of distress. They fortunately attracted attention pretty soon, and assistance was promptly rendered. The passengers and crew were for the most | d - part landed in other boats, but Captain Deering - stuck to his post, as did young Jack. __ “Let me be here while there’s one plank hold- _ing to another,” he said; “not that 1 bear the worm-eaten old hull any love, only she mustn’t ‘go down without a very big effort. Ill see her mpc ave lt dock, and have her condemned aha t the owners pay the piper now. They have had their sport with her and a lot of brave fellows; the owners must pay for all the work they have given us, and all the fears and qualms that we have pope through—ay, the stoutest hearts on board.” We leave you to guess how this speech was re- _ ceived. i _ A ringing cheer of assent greeted it. _ Andthe men within earshot gathered around the skipper, more eager than ever to save the _ Albatross. _ They did it, too. : : (they worked her into a Spanish port, and _ then they had an official visit and examination made, the result of which was that she was con- _ demnefl to be broken up. _All this was not without its effect upon young Murray, who insisted on being landed with his ‘ant,and the ship proceeding on her journey, nt he protested in vain. ~ Ee tel at AD rt What authority had hein the matter? It was all very well for him to say that be was the son of the owner, but he had shipped in an assumed name, and although it was pretty generally known who he was, Captain Deering professed to doubt his story 7 toto, **You see,” said the skipper, when the general inquiry was commenced before the British con- sul, ‘‘what he says may or may not be true, buf we ain’t bound to believe a young fellow who on under false colors.” Young Murray used violent language and his own showing has shipp threatened everybody concerned, until Captain Deering frightened this style of conduct out of “You and let him get to work, or it’ll be all UP with the him by a hint at putting him in irons. “Til tell you what, sir,” said Chivey. had better telegraph over to the governor Albatross, in a brace of shakes.” “T will.” “Double quick, sir.” ‘Right, Chivey.” He telegraphed accordingly, and then he felt easier in his mind. A letter was dis; this letter made mind, knowing now hisson was safe. It lifted a weight of care off that unscrupulous man’s mind. It was more than he deserved, to be thus re- lieved, all things considered. * * * * * * Now while the condemned Albatross lay off | in the harbor, the chief care of the captain and of those in authority was to remove the cargo, and they forgot all about the pumps. e consequence of this may be imagined. One night, when they had just turned in, young Jack, who was uncommonly sleepy, was aroused by Harry Girdwood with a very un- comfortable announcement. “Hark—hark, Jack!” “What?” “The sound of rushing waters.” “Listen again.” Jack aroused himself with a bit of an effort, and sure enough he did catch the sound of rush- ing water. ‘What does it mean?” demanded young Jack. ‘Why, Dll tell you what,” returned Harry. “‘The rushing sound of waters means the ship Al- batross is going down to her grave!” Thre ack sat bolt upright in his berth at is, “T believe you’re right, Harry. The coflin- ship is doomed, but, thank the Lord, not in mid- ocean.” | i He glided out of the berth and slipped on his trousers in less than a minute. “Pm off on deeck, old boy; come along.” And suiting the action to the word, he flew up the companion ladder. “ nnd Girdwood was not slow to follow on eck, “Whose watch is it?”? demanded Harry, as he appeared on deck, “Mackenzie’s, your honor,” was the reply. ‘“Where is he?” “Below,” “‘He’s a fine officer to set an example.” The rushing sound of water became louder and louder. “Tll rouse the skipper,” said Jack, “Right, Jack: be quick.” Rennes Jack soon had Captain Deering upon ack. The skipper was a thorough sailor, and he took in the whole situation at a single glance. ‘Who is the officer of the watch?” he demand- ed. “Myr, Mackenzie, sir,” replied a sailor. ‘Where is he?” ‘‘Below.” “Call him up.” ‘ “fe ain’t exactly fit to come, your honor,” was the reply. “What?” ‘‘He’s took too much spirit in his water, your honor.” The skipper frowned. “Tl make an example of Mackenzie.” However, it was waste of time and cf words to take any more notice about him just then, ‘Pipe all hands.” Nat Cringle came up now and made his way to the side of Captain Deering with considerable alacrity. © “We haven’t got many minutes, your honor,” he said, “before the Albatross will swallow up every stick and scrap as she goes down.” ce must be smart, then,” replied the cap- in. savin 4c A —ay. “All hands to the boats.” tched after his telegrant,and is father much easier in his The order was given. Now the Albatross was welt manned and ex-_ cellently ordered—far better than such a rotten. old hulk ever deserved to be; and everything was got about with the quiet discipline that one might expect to observe on board a man-of-war, k boat was lowered and filled rapidly, “Pull ashore,” cried the captain, through his trumpet; “pull smart, and two of you bring the boat back at racing pace; we may want you.” “Ay—ay, sir.” The orders were given promptly enough. \ Captain Deering told off the different persons to the boats, and all went very well until young Murray and his man, Chivey, who were anxious- ly awaiting the calling out of their names, caused some confusion by pressing forward. For there were still a score or more of passen- gers on board. “Stand back!” exclaimed the skipper, sternly, “or you shall remain till the last on board this: sinking ship, Stand back, I say.” “But, captain——” began Herbert Murray. “Wtter a word, or do anything to impede us now,” returned Captain Deering, ‘and I'll have you thrown overboard.” “Oh, what a orful beast,” said Chivey. But he had spoken just a shade too loud, and it was heard by one of the horny-fisted tars, who gave the tiger what he called an admonisher, but what Chivey designated ‘ta back hander on the smeller, that put my two peepers into mourn- “Stand back—stand back,” cried the second mote; “‘keep the ganeway clear.” i Mr, Figgins, who had been awaiting his turm with what patience he could muster, anxiously look around at them for help. He tried to quiet himself at such a critica} moment, and put on an appearance of calm. He nodded at the skipper, and smiled in the sickliest manner imaginable, and tried endless artifices to call the captain’s attention, But nouse. ~* No one took any notice to him. Captain Deering went steadily on, calling out: the names one after the other, and got every- thing much more forward by his quiet, calm manner of going to work than any excitement or bustle could possibly have done. “Ahem!” said Mr. Figgins, at length, ‘I am not very well, I thank you, captain—I am still, here.” “Barclay!” “Here.” “T am on deck, you see,” murmured the or- phan. ‘‘My name is Figgins, sir, and [ am an orphan.” t “Fenton!” “Here.” “Wiggins?” said the orphan, eagerly; ‘‘ dear me, I thought you said Figgins, captain.” “Charlton!” ’ “Fare.” Frampton ihe “Here!” said the orphan, ina faint voice, step- ping forward. “{ think yon said Figgins that ime, “Stand back!” cried one of the sailors, drag- ging the orphan back by thecollar. * Dear me,” exclaimed Figgins. in distress, ‘‘E made sure that the captain said Figgins.” : “No, he didn’t,” “Grant!” “Pere,” ‘Dear—dear—dear!” exclaimed the orphan, unable any longer fo conceal his fears, ‘*‘ when= -ever will my turn come?” _ “Tt won’tcome at all,” returned the sailor, “an-~ less you keep quiet.” ; _“What do you mean by that?” faltered Fig- ns. “Pray, captain, let me get in the boat, I a’n’t take up much room, you know; I’m only a poor orphan.” : , *Yowll go down to the bottom with the few as remain on board, I expect,” remarked the sailor. ; “Oh, Lor’—oh, Lor’! why was I born?” moan- ed Figgins. ‘‘Oh, it’s dreadful to go to the bot- tom of the sea and never come up again.” | “And you won’t come up again unless it's in the form of shrimps,” said Jack, “Shrimps!” almost shrieked Mr. Figgins. “Yes,” said young Jack, who was bound to have his lark under any conditions whatever, ‘‘we shall probably hear of you, sir, under an- other form altogether. Shrimps are notoriously eae of dead, bodies, particularly the body of an orphan.” A hollow groan greeted the awful speech. — “It would really be a novelty,” pursued the remorseless Jack; “fancy the Figgins-flayored « i oy iN 52 yeu De prawn.”
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TINKER’S MAN, BOGEY. . “Or the orphan potted shrimp paste,” observ- ed the equally remorseless Harry Girdwood; “the new breakfast relish.” “Don’t, L say.” “Don’t what?” “Don’t talk so. I hate such fearful levity.” “Mr, Figgins,” said the youthful Harkaway, in a deep, sonorous voice, ‘such a fate would im- mortalize the name of Figgins.” “And hand you down to posterity,” added Harry Girdwood, in the same key, “as a bene- factor to mankind and——” dah tables, with the Figgins shrimp aste. “Thank you very much,” replied the orphan “T have a eee fame.” . ef “Fame, sir,” replied Harry, ‘‘fame is your lot, desire it or not—but hold tight, or you'll be over- board, sir.” “Bromley!” sang out the skipper. ‘Here ” ede ere, “Oh, Lor’! cried Mr. Figgins; “I’m a gone man.” heh raul sang out Captain Deering. ‘‘Fig- gins The orphan tried to shriek out a reply, but his tongue clove to the roof of his mouth, and he was dumbstruck. “Higgins!” The orphan’s lips moved, but not a sound | came. “Confound him!” ejaculated the captain ; ‘‘pass on, next one—Jefferies!” “Here,” At this moment Figgins found his voice, and shriekedy “Herel am, captain. Figgins, the orphan, is here!” And he dashed forward, ina frenzy of fright | at being passed over. “Then why the devil don’t youanswer to your name?” “Over with you,” said Nat, who stood by. “Dear—deur,” said the orphan, ‘‘what a re- markably awkward ladder. me.” “Now, look sharp.” “T hope I sha’n’t fall overboard—oh|” _ Tha words had barely passed his lips, when he stumbled and fell. Down he dropped, touching the boat and fall- ma into the water. ut the men dragged him out. “Mind the shrimps don’t get at you, Figgins!” cried young Harkaway. “Oh! groaned the orphan, as the boat rowed | away, ‘never was it my fate before to go down \ such a remarkably awkward flight of steps.” “But, damme!” cried one of the tars, ‘‘you didn’t go down the steps. You preferred drop- ping into the water and sousing us all with the splash of your darned carcass.” “Don’t be so impatient, my good man,” said the orphan. ‘Consider, I was never meant for a sailor.” “Bah!” : ‘f don’t like the sea, and I beg you-—” “There, stow your gab!” “Dear me, how very violent,” said the or- Someone help phan. ‘Oh, I wish f was in smoky London again.” . “Mr, Figgins!” shouted Harry Girdwood. "Ves ” } “Think of the new-flavored prawn.” The orphan was drenched to the skin, but in spite of his drowned-rat appearance, he could afford a little laugh now. So he put on a sickly smile. ‘Perhaps you don’t know I’m only an orphan, my good men,” he said to the rowers, plaintive- _ ly, ‘and it’s my belief that there’s a special _ providence ready to rescue the poor orphan from a watery es : F, “Special fiddlesticks,” returned a tar; ‘“‘why, it was Dick Bean as lugged you out by the starn Pago yer blessed slacks.” Y ‘ Orfin be blowed!” ejaculated another demon- bieoake old salt Tie swarm @ lollipop into the _ orphan’s gills to is jaw! (. ridiann canes wae walt the orphan, ‘‘what dreadful manners you men of the sea have. Oh, “you make me shiver.” a CHAPTER XIV. iy ; THE LAST ON THE MUSTER ROLL—THE SKIPPER’S _ HEADER—DAVY JONES’ LOCKER. my hd x ‘* What is it?” “ We shall haye to swim for it, after all,” said Harry. : **T don’t think so.” *T feel sure of it,” said Harry; ‘let us get on our cork jackets sharp.” “Tt is not far to swim,” said Jack, “but there is no harm in taking precautions; there may be harm in neglecting them.” “Very well,” Down they went. Now Jack, in donning his cork jacket, forgot to replace his locket—Emily’s parting gift—and so he had to put it on over the jacket, a chance which, strangely enough, led toa singular mis- hap as we shall presently see. hey were were on deck in three minutes. ‘* Binks,” said the skipper. ‘* Binks,” cried the mate. ‘“* Where’s Binks?” No response. ; eae ee sneaked rE of the first boat- oads, perhaps,” suggested someone. oN 0, he ain't,” returned Nat Cringle. ‘Binks is as drunk as an alderman down below, along’ Joe Sprunt and Mr. Mackenzie.” i “The time grows short,” said Captain Deer- ing, uneasily; ‘‘ they’ll be drowned <f we aren’t sharp.” “ Girdwood,” sang out Captain Deering. ‘“ Here.” “ Drewitt.” “ Here.” “Will no one go and warn these men?” said young Jack. ‘‘I’m not going to leave the ship, and see them dragged down with it without an effort to save them.” ‘ Harkaway,” called out Captain Deering. No reply. ‘“‘Harkaway.”? “Harkaway! Where’s Harkaway gone to?” “Below,” “Call him,” cried the captain, anxiously. “Harkaway !” F bres honest Nat Cringle, who had taken a wondrous fancy to young Jack; ‘“‘for the Lord’s sake come up.” “Cringle,” “Here, sir.” “Over with you.” “And you, captain?” “f remain here till you arg all off.” “Tl just see after Master Harkaway, sir.” “Nat Cringle,” replied the skipper, sternly, ‘you must obey orders, or you'll be answerable for the lives of these men. Over with you.” Two men remained; one of the mates anda sailor, : They forced Nat Cringle over the side. But the honest old tar never ceased yelling for Jack Harkaway. The cries resounding in all directions were deafening, In the boat just pushed off the voice of Harry Girdwood could be heard above all, calling to his rash young comrade in wild despair, ‘Now, Briggit.” ? “Here, yer honor.” “Over with you.” ‘And you, captain?” f i “Confound you!” roared the captain, losing his temper now that he had sayed his crew hed his coolness and presence of mind, ‘‘over wit you. “After you, yer honor.” “D—n you for a mutinous thief. She's rock- ing under our feet, I tell you. Over with you; the ship is going down fast.” - ; The Albatross was giving her final kick. “Pull clear of the ship—pull sere papal, I say. Lay down to it, or you'll be sucked down.” The men gave pe and pulled with resolution, with the instinct of discipline strong upon them rather than fear. But for the word of command, which the skipper cried out so clearly, they would have stuck there, heedless of the danger of being drawn down in the vortex, so that they amie have been near their bold, lion-hearted ipper. 8 aptain Deering’s task of peril was not yet over, Seeing the boat clear of danger now, the cay tain threw off his top coat and ran along the deck to yell down below after Jack. “Harkaway!” he cried. “Harkaway. Come up; the last boat’s gone. Ha! too late!” _ He cast off what clothing hevould, and boukd- ing up to a point of vantage, he took a long,vig- orous dive just as the treacherous old Albatross settled and went down. ; fi CHAPTER XV, DARE DEVIL JACK—IN THE DEEP TROUGH OF THE SEA—THE CORK JACKET PLAYS ITS PART WELL —MR. TINKER AND HIS VALET ‘'GO TO LARN UP ALL PERTICKLARS.” “WHERE is Jack?” cried Harry Girdwood, “Pull back, I say. Don’t desert him!” “There goes the skipper,” cried Nat Cringle. “Aurrah |’ This was at the moment that Deering took his desperate header. e men caught up the cheer one and all. ‘Pull back—pull back!” said Harry Girdwood, despairingly. ‘Don’t let us desert like curs the bravest, boldest heart that ever beat in a sailor’s breast.” “Don’t listen to him, men; Harkaway had his chance, let him drown, he’s not of any use to us. Pull away, or we shall all be drawn under the sinking ship,” said ope “Hold your mag,” said Harry, dropping his hand heavily upon the speaker's head. ‘Jack is worth a thousand of your wretched sort.” ‘““Why should we endanger all for the sake of one?’ cried Murray. ‘He chose to go and play the fool after those drunken men.” “Silence, you heartless young swab,” exclaim- ed Nat Cringle, indignantly. ‘Half a word more to that tune, and I'll drop you overboard,” “There’s some one climbing the rigging, I think,” said one of the sailors, ‘‘Look there.” “It’s young Harkaway.” “No, no, it is no Jack,” said Harry Girdwood, almost in tears. ‘Poor Jack has gone down.” Alas! there was no hope for him now. Meanwhile, Captain Deering was seen breast- ing the surface of the water, and pushing along with a vigorous stroke. * * * * x When young Jack got down below, he found two of the crew nopelenas helplessly drunk, and beside them the Scotch mate, Mackenzie, in a searce better condition. i “This is a Hopeless case,” exclaimed young Jack. . ; Yet he had a turn at them. The mate was not quite so far gone as the two unfortunate men to whom he had set so bad an example. ; “Mackenzie,” cried Jack, shaking him. “Eh? Whose watch?’ muttered the mate, , thickly. . “The ship’s settling, I tell you,’*cried Jack, “Wake up.” F nted Mackenzie; ‘‘it’s not my I ken verra weel when——” esp “The fool! He's lost! Hah! what's this here? The very thing.” A bucket of water stood just handy, so Jack whipped it up and dashed it over the mate. “Darn yer imperence!” cried Sandy, waking up and making a grab at young Jack. p Just then the voice of the skipper was heard calling him wildly to come up. The last moment had come, “Let go, Mackenzie,” cried Jack, struggling with desperation. But the mate was a gaunt, strong fellow, and young Jack stood but avery poor chance in a tussle with him. Ay Srp er ears for ye, ye whelp of Satan!” hieccoug he Scotch mate. “Too late, too late,” cried: the skipper up aloft. “Jack, Jack, where graven The words sounded like a death-knell in young Jack’s ear. ! He fought fiercely with the drunken mate, and, wriggling himself half out of his clutches, sent him otageeris back, but before Jack could get fairly off, Mackenzie was after bim again, grabbed at him. e was a little short, but he chanced to get hold gf the locket and chain—little Emily’s part- ing gitt—and held Jack momentarily a oner, but holding on to the hand-rail with the energy of despair, our hero kicked out desperately, and sent the mate reeling back. Up he flew on deck. _ % The captain had already taken his leap for e. The shipsank fast. Jack’s = was deadly. He looked about nim. His only chance was the rigging. Young Jack climbed like Nero himself, so up he went hand over hand into the shrouds, as the these Albatross quickened her pace down- wards. , ’ f , Even now he did not turn sick or faint-hearted, _ as may be guessed by the following characteris- ; \ tic speech: i We aS ede hi ae
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4: TINKER’'S MAN, BOGEY. “That beast Mackenzie has grabbed Em’s locket.” ~ He reached the crosstrees, and gave a sharp look around him as he caleulated his chances. The whirlpool which the sinking of the huge carcass caused, was of alarming dimensions. Spars, chips and coops, and sundry floating things which had been thrown overboard at the last moment, were drawn into the vortex al- ready. And this told young Harkaway his danger. / It was not difficult to see it: ‘Well, said young Jack, resolutely, “it is my only chance for life. Here goes.” He set his teeth, poised himself for a moment upon the crosstree, then swinging back, he plunged boldly forward in the air. Heaven! What an eternity if seemed to our brave young hero, that brief passage through the air! Down, down he went, seemingly to the ocean’s Then, having regained—well, scarcely his pres- ence of mind, but rather having strong instincts of jself-preservation—he struck upward, ,and with half a dozen vigorous strokes he reached the surface—reached air and light. The cork jacket now played its part well. Where would young Harkaway have been se? / Probably at the bottom of the sea. And there would have been an end to the ad- ventures of young Jack Harkaway and his boy Tinker at once. Brave young Jack did not mean to cry a go el: yet. He stuck to it manfully, and as he breasted the surface of the water, a singular phenomenon manifested itself. He had not felt the influence of the sinking ship while under, yet now that he was on the surface, and on the limit of the whirlpool’s ed- dies, he felt the strength of its influence. It was desperate work now. He set his teeth, and plunged on. Yet he felt that in spite of everything, he made little or no progress. As fast as he got ahead, the fierce strength of the whirlpool drew him back. It was indeed well for him that he had not reached the surface earlier. He felt this instinctively, and taking a long, deep draught of air, he “ducked his head, and plunged below the surface once more. A dozen vigorous strokes, and he shot up again, Then he was safe. *‘Now for a good, long, steady swim, Jack, old boy,” he cried to himse £ hen turning over on his back, he took it easy and looked about him. “That was a narrow squeak,” he said. “But I wish that that beast of a Mackenzie had not prigged my locket.” 6 was a good swimmer, but there came a time when even he was tired out. # He turned over and had a swim. The shore looked a desperate way off. _ “T shall never be able to reach’ shore all that way off,” hesaid. ‘But ‘never say die’ is my motto, so here goes.” \ Young Jack caught sight of a boat presently, and he bailed it, “Halloo—ho! Help+ho—ho!” The effort took all hisstrength, and he gasped again. Thanks to his cork jacket, hedid not go under, but by now he was powerless to help himself. But on board this boat there were two persons who had heard the cry. Moreover, both of them had recognized the voice. , “Oh, golly, dat’s Massa Jack,” said one of the persons. ‘* 30 gwine to larn up all perticklers.” And with no moreado, the speaker, who wasa ni ger, tumbled over into the water. e ether person was likewise a darkey. “You may consider dis infant dere, Massa Tinker,” said the other person, peeling hastily. He dived over too. These two darkeys, who were, need we say?— ‘Tinker, and that gentleman’s valet and major- domo, Bogey, were quite as much at home in the water as they were upon land, and they thought no more of trusting their ebony car- easses to the wayes than we should think of eat- ing our dinner. ; ‘hey played up all kinds of pranks in the ‘water, and could keep under, seemingly, any length of time. i It was a comical race. Every now and again, one or the other would bob up and squint at his fellow countryman. Then they would shoot along again é a { “Look, Bogey,” cried Tinker. ‘*Yah—yah; dere heam, dis child soon hab him,” y At length they got within range of poor young ack. He was floating, thanks to the corks, but in- sensible. When they were within range, they dived simultaneously, and then shooting upwards, | 0 came to the surface at the self-same moment, one on either side of young Jack. “Oh, golly, Bogey!” cried Tinker; ‘‘dis infant am awful 4 ad he got hold of good Massa Jack.” And so the two niggers, master and valet, tow- ed young Jack up to the side of the boat, and with great difficulty they got him into it. CHAPTER XVI. BOGEY IS COMMISSIONED TO RUB ‘MASSA JACK’S LITTLE TUMMY. “Bx golly, him look pale!” ‘Ole your bressed tongue, nigger! said Tin- ker, authoritatively ; “an’ rub him little tum- my. “Yes, massa.” - Poor fellar!” said Tinker, sadly; “him bery uncommon poorly.” “Dis chile make him tummy warm,” said Bogey, ‘‘an’ den he’ll get all right, massa.” So saying, he rubbed away now more vigor- ously than ever. The efforts of the two faithful darkeys scon told, for Jack opened his eyes. “Tinker,” said he, with eagle ‘Ves, sar, dat am dis good-looking child.” ““Where am I?” ‘“Hyar, sar, ‘long wid Tinker and Bogey.” here’s here?” “Tn de boat, sar.” “T remember now, Tinker.” “What you remember, sar?” ed beast of a Mackenzie prigged my lock- et. Tinker looked puzzled. Then shooting an inquisitive, glance at his mas- ter, he made up his mind. The trials and dangers had turned ‘‘him bress- ed head.” “Mackenzie, sar,” he said, seemingly indig- nant; ‘did you say Mackenzie, sar?” ‘Yes ‘Well, sar, punch him head.” “T mean to, if he’s, afloat,” returned young Jack; ‘but I fear he’s gone down.” This being off his mind, young Jack lapsed in- to a sort of semi-somnolency. “Boge 7 a-rubbin’ ob him till he get all ober warm like.” ; ‘*Yes, massa.” And he went to work ata rare rate, too. Well, the result of this was that when they got ashore, young Jack had so far recovered that he was really very little the worse for his leap, and his dive, and his protracted immer- sion. The boat grounded just about three or four minutes before another boat came on shore. And in this boat was Harry Girdwood, just re- turned in bitter despair at what he thought Jack’s death. He looked so pale and haggard that one could scarcely believe it to be the result of grief alone. Young Jack ran to greet him. “Why, Harry, old man,what is the matter?” Harry Girdwood looked puzzled. “Jack.” Yes. “Ts it you?” | y “Why, yes, unless Lam very much mistaken. T don’t think [ am anyone else than young Jack Harkaway.” “Why, Jack, my dear old boy, how did you get here?” 5 “Partly by swimming, partly by floating, and partly in the boat, while Bogey rubbed my lit- tle tummy to bring me around.” While Jack was urging on his wild career shorewards, the other boat in which Harry Gird- wood was drafted off, had been hanging about the wreck to pick up anyone who might have been overboard and had the good luck to get clear of the vessel. But they were singularly unfortunate. A third boat had picked the skipper up, while hey remained even ignorant of his fate, as they | had been until now of young Jack Harkaway’s. LAO ie * * # te * “What, young Harkaway!” cried out a manly . Fi voice; “give us your grappling iron, Master Jack, for demme, Nat Cringle longs to touch your flesh.” “With all my heart, Nat Cringle,” cried young Jack; “give us a grasp.” His example was followed by all around. And young Jack had his hand well-nigh wrung “T had all my work to do,” said young Jack, “to get free of that drunken old Mackenzie.” And thereupon he related all that had taken place on board during his vain endeavor to res- cue the mate from the wreck. “T only hope as he’s saved,” said Nat Cringle, “for if I meet himashore, I’ll make small biscuit of him in the turning of a marlin-spike.” That Nat’s resolve was highly approved of was duly attested by the salvos of cheers from the sailors which greeted his speech. “Well,” cried Jack, ‘I hope we shall meet: him, for confound the brute, he’s prigged a locket my little sweetheart gave me at parting on shore.” CHAPTER XVII. THE ORPHAN’S INFIRMITIES—-JACK GIVES HIM A LESSON IN SPANISH. “HERE comes the skipper.” ‘Hurrah, here he comes.” Captain Deering saw Jack, and he came run- ning up to the spot to greet him. “Head, Master Harkaway, you’ve had a nar- row escape this time,” he said, “And you too, sir.” “Yes, Harkaway,” replied the skipper; ‘‘a closer shave than I should care for every day. I might not always come off, d’ye see?” ust then a sick-looking gentleman came up with his head tied up in a white handkerchief, “Oh, Captaid Deerig,” said he, “I codgratu- late you, indeed I do. After what young Hark- away told me of those dasty shrimps, I feared you had gode to the bottob,” ] “So I had, Mr, Figgins,” returned the skipper, with a grin, “and 1 came to the top again as quick as convenient.” “Tt was dearly all over with be, foo, cap- — taid.” “Oh, no,” returned the captain, ‘you were soon picked out, and you’re not much the worse for a sousing. Salt water doesn’t hurt any man.” The orphan gave a grunt and a groan of im- patience at this. ‘‘Doesn’t it deither? ty by dose that’ll last be for a fo: The doleful expression of the made the skipper laugh outright. ‘Not so bad as that, Mr. Figgins, f hope,” - “Isd’t it? but I know it is. I wish somebody bared got my code in his dose,” returned the orphan. **You may think yourself very fortunate there were no shrimps here to seize upon you, when you tum)led 3 i Wed H but you can easly 1 over your cold, Mr. Figgins,” said youn “Oh Mr Jack.” ae ‘‘How do you feel, Mr. Figgins?” “Tm very bad iddeed, Bister Jack; I wish some ki’d persod would take care of be, for I am odly ad orphad.” “Oh, we'll take care of you, but you must ge over your cold first. Take a tubful of gruel with a candle in it, sir.” h “A what?’ “A candle; I don’t mean to eat the candle al- together.” ““T should thi’k dot.” 3 “You only have to drop the candle in the gruel, _ while it’s nice and hot, fo melt it alittle, and rub yourself all over with it.” aw “Get alo’g, you're chaffig. I wish you good-- evedig, Baster John.” “Ym only Master John on Sundays, Mr. Fig- gins—Jack on week days, please.” Tem “Jokid apart,” said the orphan, “oruel isd’t @ bad thig for a code, odly I cad’t thig how Ishall _ get od with these Spadiards.” } “Rasy enough.” __ “What's the Spadish for gruel, Jack?” ; “Bilstickas sauce,” responded young Jack, promptly. ; ane “Dear be. Ad—ad—jokid apart, a caddle isd’§ half a bad thig for the dose.” eae oa “Yowre right.” aan f : “What's the Spadish for caddle, cub dow?” “Fardendippa,” answered young Jack. bt “Fardeddippa.” Bodin Ves ” _ “What asigular lagwidge Spadish is, Bastet Jack,” ee eS Ee eon Tve gota code id rtdight.” grPphan’s face +e .
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“Very. Remember that Spanish people are very proud and ceremonious.’ “All right, I'll be cerebodious with theb. I shall get to the hotel and off to bed; good-dight.” ‘Well, good night, Mr. Figgins, and don’t for- get your Spanish, for remember you are a@ young and tender orphan, with no one to look after you, and the Spanish people like to use their knives on unprotected English orphans.” “Trne—true. Oh, I wish I was at hobe.” And as he went'lip the beach, he kept repeat- ing it to himself: “Gruel, bilstickas sauce. Caddle, fardeddip- pa, good for the dose and a code.” CHAPTER XVIII AT THEIR TRICKS AGAIN—THE COCKNEY WAITER —A SURPRISE—POOR ORPHAN FIGGINS. “Jack, what do you think of this place?” “Well, Harry, not half bad bas up to the present. There is only one drawback as far as J can find out as yet.” “What is it?” “The Carlists.” “Those rascals are never here,” exclaimed Harry. “Yes, they are: rather strong, too.” “Are these people all Carlists, then?” “To a man.” “Pheugh! Isay, Jack, old boy, that’s rather “Oh, there is nothing much to fear until the other scoundrels come and bombard the town.” (e) 5 ° = 4 are anticipation ; “but it must be very carefully “Very.” “Tll work up to it with tales of the Carlists’ atrocities—make out that they’re everything that’s awful—cannibals included.” Poor Figgins! Hapless orphan! He was destined to suffer now for the amuse- mentof our two young scapegraces. * a a ok * * They went up to have a look at Mr. Figgins, and they found him in his room in bed, strug- gling in an overwhelming sea of difficulties. “You feel more yourself now, Mr. Figgins,” said Harry Girdwood, ‘now that you have on your nightcap.” a “T do certaidly feel easier.” 4 “‘You would, of course,” said Jack, eagerly. And did you try the gruel and the candle?’ *¥ could’t.” “Why not?” * “CGould’t bake eb udderstad.” , “We'll manage that for you,” said Harry Gird- wood, tipping Jack the wink. . “Of course, anything to oblige Mr. Figgins.” % ‘“'Thak you—oh, thak you, young gedtlemed,” responded the grateful sufferer; “but, oh! why ' did Iever cobe to seat I was dever inted’ed for asailor. Oh, dear! ‘ “Poor thing! Shall I ring the bell?” said Jack, _ “Oh, I wish I could hear a Loddod buffin bell; _ that would be busic to be.” Harry rang, and up came a spruce young waiter. : ; : “Waiter,” said Jack, in his most Spanish air. “Senor.” “Oandeloza por el nosa del’ olda-cocka- ” 1 aca.” _ The waiter looked considerably puzzled. ““Candeloza, senor excellenza?” “Si,” said young Jack; “don’t you under- Stand? Candeloza—fareendippa per el nosa Bray OLE d?_ Caddle, tallow-wick, ; ha rae rub od by dose, uddelstad?” « hat was all the waiter could say in his won- know,” TINKER’'S MAN, BOGEY. eee: he understands,” said Jack, winking at arry. “Mr, Figgins’ Spanish is better than ours.” “Oh, dear, no, sir,” responded the waiter, with a mirthful twinkle in his eye, and in purest Whitechapel English; ‘‘about the same, sir. Didn’t know you was English, sir. Old gent wants a taller candle to rub on his nozzle. I see, sir. I’d no notion that you was a-getting at me, sir! I’m from the east of London, bred and born there.” Off he ran, leaving Master Jack and his com- panion rather more astonished than the waiter himself had previously appeared. * * * * * * “Well,” exclaimed Harry Girdwood, ‘‘that has rather taken it out of us,” ‘Rather. Who would have thought of seeing a London waiter here?” “Let us go and find the cockney waiter, and see what we can do with him.” “Coma along.” They found that cockney waiter and they bribed him. And they plotted in the most shameful manner against the orphan Figgins’ future peace of mind. Of this more anon. For the present we must limit ourselves to saying that some unhappy moments were in sags ie the poor gentleman with the cold in is head. CHAPTER [XIX. IN AN ORANGE GROVE—THE VINE- UP AGAIN— A STROLL YARD—THE HARKAWAY BLOOD If AN AWKWARD MESS. “Let’s go and havea look about the town,” said Jack. “With all my heart,” responded Harry Gird- wood, ‘“‘but let us get some information first of the cockney waiter.” Trimmer, the cockney waiter,had lived there for years, and knew everything about every- thing and everybody. f He was well acquainted with the country around, and he directed them to the most inter- esting places to visit. “Tf you turn to the left when you get outside,” said he, “‘you willcome to the orange grove— the best walk in this part—and beyond that you get to the vineyards, and they are downright awful stunning.’ ‘©You are so emphatic and forcible,” said young Jack, “that I shail be off at once.” “All right, sir; but keep clear of them Carlist fellows; they’re as proud as Lucifer, and they haven’t a stiver to spend; they live upon olives and garlic, and there ain’t, so to s a clean shirt in the army.” “T'll be careful.” “That's right.” ‘And if any of them Carlist fellows speak to you, only bow and walk on.” ‘We will.” * * * * * * It would have been well if they had followed out the injunctions of the Cockney waiter liter- ly. But out of sight, out of mind. They were no sooner in the orange grove than they forgot all about the Carlists and the wait- er, and, in fact, about anything for the time being, but the delicious perfume of the enchant- ing scene through which they were passing. “What a Paradise, Jack!” exclaimed Harry. “Blysium,” was Jack’s rapturous reply. ‘Tt smells like all the perfumers of Bond street boiled down.” “Delicious!” “What a thousand pities that our foggy old climate won't grow such a treat as this.” “It is. But then our foggy oldclimate doesn’t grow Carlists and garlic and dirt, and brag and lie so prolifically as this beautiful place.” “That’s true, old wet-blanket,” said Jack. “Old England isn’t half a bad place, after all, in spite of its fogs and rains and coughs, colds, ca- tarrhs, rheumatism, and the rest of it.” “Ogh!” growled Harry, ‘‘couldn’t you rake 19 z ey more reproaches for the land of your irth? ; eee Jack’s response was brief and express- ive: Pickles!” Then, after amoment, he said: “Let's change the subject.” ‘When will the divers begin their opera- tions?” , ; ’ : “To-morrow, if what Ger true; the vessel is alrea yon the spot, you} ) > 13 | } “But Iam told that only one of the divers has come over up to the present.” ‘What of that?” “A great deal.” “Why?” “How can he begin alone?” *Basily enough.” “Tt must be precious dangerous, J should sa uo? va hy more dangerous for one than for sev- | eral?” ‘Why, if two are together and one is not well —if any accident happens, the other could give the signal to hau] up.’ “True, there must be great danger attendant upon deep sea diving.” They walked on for some distance in si- lence. “Harry.” “Yes,” “J’m going to confide in you, old man, only I want you first to make me a promise.” “T will.” “You won’t laugh?” “Pl look as serious as a whole bench of er, al “‘Well, the fact is, that in the under steward’s cabin of the Albatross is something which I wouldn’t lose for a hundred pounds—no, nor for a goot many hundreds.” arry stared. “What is it?” “You're going to grin.” ‘Not 1.” “Well, it is a—now don’t get on that bevainae 2 guffaw, Harry. Em gave me a locket before left, with a lock of her hair in it—bless her! and the druvken brute Mackenzie make a at me as I was escaping up the companion er, and tore it off my neck.” “What then? “T want it.” 5 ‘You can’t get it.” “Pll go after it.” “Bosh! Do you think you would by risking your life on such a job?’ ; AN o, but I don’t mean to go home without please Emily hte Harry Girdwood looked anxious at this. He knew too well the determination of the’ Harkaways one and all, and he knew that all the; arguments he could use would not turn young Jack from his purpose. So he tried to effect a bet ta eS “You have only to try and tip the diver who's bia aster a i it, * se ak * * * * They had now emerged from the orange grove. Beyond, they came to an enclosed ground, with a high wall lining the side of the path on _ their right. They had to pick their way along here, for the road was below the level of the path, and a re- cent heavy rain and bad drainage combined had left the road in a sad mess. They picked their way along in single file, keeping up close to the wall. Tn this way they progressed for some distance, when a man was seen to turn a corner sharply and advance towards them. Now this man could very well have retreated to the place from whence he had emerged and al- , lowed them to pass. ' But he was a haughty, ill-natured fellow, and he made straight up to the two lads with astern- ly defiant air,and waited for them to move aside for him. So they came to a full stop. The stranger was a young, tall, dark man, handsome enough to look at, and seemingly a military officer. : He paused a moment, looking down upon oung Jack, whostared back coolly enough, for it wanted a yery big man indeed to abash a BE Te Z : ‘‘Maledicion! give way, boy!” ejaculated the Spaniard, beat ps And lun; ing ee denly forward, he seized hold of Jack and whirled him around off the path into the mud, ankle deep. Now this was not the sort of thing that young } — Jack could relish, or he would not have beenthe son of his father. ‘ Before you could say Jack Robinson, or, in- deed, give utterance to an infinitely more brie exclamation, he sprang forward and seized the ; Spaniard by the leg, and gave it a mighty tug. The effor was pomanden fink the o} cerieonnee ; ? not save himself, and he went sprawling in the tain Deering says is|mud. _ : spite dhe > “The Spaniard made a sed aiot of very al ti cha Kee aks eee ¥
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14 TINKER’S MAN, BOGEY. rather expressions which ought to have fright- ened the very soul out of the two boys if they had understood a word of them. But beyond a good many Carambas, Carajos and Maledicions,they did not understand much. He shook some of the mud from his garments and made a rush at Jack, but the latter dodged the donand met him with a good old English one, straight from the shoulder. ‘“P)1 have your heart’s blood for that!” cried the Spaniard, taking out a card and throwing it at Jack. ‘ Now the latter understood the action,although he could make nothing of the words, and this was a species of invitation which one of his hot- blooded race could refuse. ‘‘Tt’s a challenge,” exclaimed Harry, in alarm. Young Jack produced bis card and wrote upon it the name of the hotel at which they werestay- ing. Ewhat are you about?’ cried Harry Gird- wood. ‘I’m not going to have anything of this kind; you shall not meet this man in combat.” “You can’t help it any more than I can,” re- turned Jack, coolly. ‘‘At your service, senor, when you please,” he added, with a bow to the Spaniard. The latter bowed in return, and curling his mustache fiercely, he strode away, shaking his fist in the air, CHAPTER XX. THE CHALLENGE—A PROFESSIONAL DUELLIST— TRICKS OF FENCE-—JACK AND HIS MAITRE- D’ARMES. “Wut, Jack, thisis bad. What would your aa father say if he knew about it?” said Harry j cnn utterly dismayed; “‘it’s a dreadful ob. “A rum go, isn’t it?” “A rum go,” cried his companion, Jack, whatever will you do?” | Jack stared. “Do? What would you do?” “Tt is not right you should fight this Carlist brute. I should bolt.” “Bolt,” echoed Jack. ‘Yes, I think I see my- sa why, Harry, you old fibber, to say you'd olt. out then and there.” “Tt is madness, Jack. I tell you that this meeting must not take place.” “Now don’t be obstinate, Harry,” said Jack, angrily. ‘‘What, would you have me turn cow- ard before this bully? No, Harry—no wretched Spaniard shall have the chance of saying that he frightened young Jack Harkaway.” his closed the conversation. ) They walked back to the hotel in utter silence, look at his card,” said Harry Gird- “Oh, Jack y “Let us wood. ‘ This was the first word spoken between them. Jack handed over the card. J “Don Gil Perez.” “Ho's a pretty don,” said Harry. Young Jack turned to his friénd and silently held out his hand. “Gome—come, Harry, old man,” he said, PS ead not have any bad feelings over this Job. , Harry returned his grip with heartiness. , “{)l-feeling, Jack!” said he, with deep emo- tion. “Heaven forbid that anything should make ill-fecling between you and I.” The Cockney waiter came in just then with a card on a salver. i “A gent is waiting below, sir,” said he, with a mysterious air; “‘a-Carlist officer, I should say, sir, by the looks of him.” Jack took the card. “ Mon Miguel Basten.? Whoever is that?” “Someone from the other don, I suppose,” said Harry. “By jingo!” said Jack, with a laugh, “‘the Spaniard means fighting; well, [11 fight him, and he shall find young Jack Harkaway isa true boy of England.” 2 “Will you see this gentleman, sir?” asked the waiter. F p “Of course, Show him in,” replied Jack. “Yes. sir.” , ag | “And come back with him, waiter,” said Har- ry. ey ~ “Yes, ' sir.” “We shall want you to interpret for us.” aut right, it.” « . A moment after the waiter returned, ushering in a Spanish officer. : advanced in years, ck grey well air, and 8't « “ted | hy, you would have wanted to fight it | gy. ‘Don Miguel Basten was a fine, soldier-like man, | ‘ith adi do a grey) He doffed his cap on entering, and bowed low to the two lads. “Will you say that it is Senor John Harkaway that I wish to see?” said he to the waiter. “This is Senor Harkaway, captain,” replied the waiter, waving his hand towards Jack. “Tmpossible; be is only a boy. It must be his father I have come to see.” This was translated to Jack, who had, however, given a pretty shrewd guess at what was meant. “No, ‘Tell Don Miguel Basten that my father is in England, and that I am the person.” This was duly translated by the waiter. “Tt is very strange,” said the officer. Senor Harkaway is very young.” “Yes, senor.” ‘Ask him if he comes from Don Gil Perez,” said Jack. “Gil Perez?” ‘ ‘Yes, ” “Do you know him, sir?” “Slightly.” The waiter put on a frightened look, which they could not very well understand. ““Si—si,” said the Carlist officer, with a nod of intelligence at Jack. ‘‘I have the honor to come on behalf of;Don Gil Perez.” “At your service, senor,” said Jack, bowing PTO, “Tell the young English gentleman,” said the officer, ‘‘that he has gravely affronted Don Gil Perez, and that no apology is possible.” The waiter looked aghast at this message. oe Tat sir,” he exclaimed, ‘‘this is a precious go. hy, you’ve been and had a rumpus with the most notorious duellist and the very worst bully in the Carlist army. Oh, my!” Jack smiled. “He says that no apology is “T never intended an apology. The waiter looked more frightened than ever. Sie ates that, do you hear?” said Jack, sharply. “But, sir, consider; this Don Perez is a dread- ful man with all weapons, and——” “Do what I tell you, or leave the room,” said Jack. He obeyed. The officer pursed his brows. “T did not mean that,” he said. “I meant that it would be impossible for us to accept an apolo- . But the senor is very young——” 5 io enough to take my own part,” responded ack. “Very good,” said Don Miguel. “Then, with the deepest regret, I have to arrange the pre- liminaries.” ‘As you please, sir.” ‘Your weapons?” “Yours, senor?” “The possible.” “Sword or pistol?” ene: “J am equally good, or bad, at both,” replied young Jack. ‘I’m not in the habit of fightin duels. Soif Don Miguel Basten will make a the arrangements for us, he may consider them accepted in advance.” _ This was translated by the waiter. “One word before we go any further,” said the officer, who had been eying young Harka- way with considerable interest. “I said an apol- ogy was impossible. Now, my principal is a noted duellist, a dead shot and one of the keen- est blades in the army of his Catholic majesty. In consideration of the Senor Inglese’s youth, I will undertake* to insist upon an apolo: being accepted, if Senor Harkaway will make one. : “Impossible,” returned Jack, hastily. “TI am an Englishman, senor, and hold my honor as dearly as any Spaniard born.” “Senor,” returned the officer, ‘“‘your cour: does you honor, and I wish this painful task had Gevaledl upon anybody but me. Swords, then, at six in the morning.’ ‘Where?”? “In the valley beyond the church.” “T will be there, senor.” é ‘Ts this young gentleman your friend? asked the ia bowing to Harry Girdwood. es. “J shall have the painful honor of meeting you both, then,” said the Sprniard, bowing once more. “Before I go, young gentleman,” he ad- ded, advancing a = ne tig nies Jack, ‘‘allow me the pleasure of shaking hands with you, for youare a brave lad.” — ; hy great pleasure,” returned Jack, courte- ously. | $ They shook hands, and Don Miguel Basten, af- i teeth once more at Jack, bowed himself OUT 3 A) a el oo Jaa i Rane? aah cy “Well, ?m jiggered!” exclaimed the waiter. “You've been one and done ‘it, Mr. Hark- eee away, you have, Oh,how you'll get run through, sir. ‘Is ib such a. very poor look-out for me, then?” asked Jack, with a smile. “You may as well say your prayers and or- der your coffin, sir, that’s all.” “You're a nice Job’s comforter,” laughed Jack. “Why, this beast of a Gil Perez has spitted about a dozen within the last month; he’s, with- out exception, the one cove, sir, that you ought to have avoidad. He’s a devil, sir.” i “T can’t help that; it’s done, and can’t be un- done now. ou can’t unnerve me by any talk, so don’t try it on.” 7 “Don’t say that, sir. Ili give a year’s perks, sir, to see you lard him well, the Spanish yeasts but there’s no chance of it.” x “What do they understand by swords?” “Rapiers.” Sie “T wish it was broadsword—cut and thrust.” “Why, sir?” “T know the exercise.” The waiter thought fora moment, and then — burst into a laugh. - “That's not a bad idea, sir. Take your sword with you. The choice was with you; you said swords, but you didn’t stipulate what kind, In- sist upon your cut-and-thrust cove, and Don Git Perez may be taken at a disadvantage. Oh, — what larks it would be to seea young English _ gentleman like you spit this brute ofa Span- — jiard.” . “Do they never fight with anything but ra-— piers?” ‘Not often, I’ve seen many a duel, sir; two ~ or three with the cut-and-thrusters, but they’re — blessed awkward at it. They have oply onecut and one guard, as far as I can see.” “Do you know it?” ‘ “Oh, yes; I can show it to you in half a crack, and proud { am of the honor, sir,” Re, “You seem up toa great many thingsysaid — Harry Girdwood. ‘How did you learn this?? - — “ve been in the army here, sir.” “The deuce you have.” 4 “T was in the army in England, and my time was out, sol came travelling here with my mas- ter,‘poor chap; he was an officer in my regi~ ment, and traveling here on half pay, when he got the fever in Cadiz, ond it took him off, That’s three years ago. I was left without any resources, so I enlisted in the national army for — three years. When they were up, I came on here, and, being bard up, gota billet here as waiter.” ea ‘What an extraordinary career,” exclaimed - Jack. ‘I never heard of a soldier being waiter before.” mae “What's the odds as long as you’re happy? Aes don’t care much for the place, butit’s vittlesand drink, besides oceasional pickings, an’ so | man-— i age to grub along.” ‘> hem “Well,” said Jack, “now for this famous — guard,” ; 13 “y The cockney soldier-waiter got a walking — stick, and showed them several tricks of fence. _ “Tt Ph don’t mind a slight saber-cut on the — shoulder, you can spit your man like a herring.” “How? } “This way. They cut down thus—it’s a vicious cut, meant to break your guard—you mustn’t attempt to parry it, but jump in under it. Youre nimble enough, I see, a good deal moreso than Mr, Bully Gil Perez. Run in sharp as soon as you're engages: and you have him a safe as eggs iseggs. Oh, my éye! I should be~ glad.” ae ' Jack appeared to be satisfied, but Harry was less confident. pies Re “Very well,” said Jack. ‘Now we'll get to bed, for I want to be up at five. I shouldn’tlike to be late, or go on the field sleepy at all. Sta in case anythi g sould happen to me, here’ trifle to rememiber me, for you seem kind.” — The waiter fat back firmly, but politely. ‘Not to-night, sir.” “What! You’re not proud?” “Not I, sir,” returned the waiter. wouldn’t well become one who lives upon No, sir, pode luck to you. Wait till the young Harkaway’s hand over and then double it.” f “That's a bargain,” said Jack. : “That's business,” said Harry Girdwood, laughing, in spite of himself, for his he rb heavy par aS iinet paslead. | 3 “Good-night, gents, both of ¥ l-night, gents, bo you. ee steady hand and stout attend you in the mor: Pid
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TINKER’S MAN, BOGEY. ‘Amen to that!” said Harry Girdwood, fer- vently. ———— | CHAPTER XXI. THE DUEL IN THE VALLEY—THE FACE-GUARD, AND HOW IT TOLD—STRUCK HOME—THE ENG- LISH DIVER, A KNOCK at the door, “Come in.” “Five o’clock, sir.” “So soon?” Jack had slept like a top. Poor Harry Girdwood had hardly closed his ayes the livelong night, and when he had snatch- ed a little fitful slumber, he had dreamed dread- fully. Hes visions were all of menslain in single com- at. Fierce Spaniards slaughtering inexperienced Auelists, and these pallid men stretched upon the ground, with the life-blood oozing slowly from gaping wounds _ Such were the visions which poor Harry had, ‘and he was not sorry when the time arrived to be moving. Young Jack sprang from his bed, and slipped into his garments as hurriedly as possible. Harry Girdwood followed suit, But he failed to display the same alacrity in his movements. ; Slowly and fearfully he prepared for this ter- rible business. “Look sharp, Harry.” “All right, Jack, my dear boy.” Harry did not believe that there was much chance for his brave comrade; yet such as there was, he wished him to profit by it to the utter- most; and so he tried with all his might to dis- guise his own unpleasant feelings upon the mat- te: ' r. At length they were ready to start. “Harry,” said Jack, earnestly, “tip us your fin, old man.” Harry silently extended his hand. ““Come—come, old sobersides, you mustn’t be down-hearted, or I shall go into action with a heavy heart, and that wont improve my , chance.” | “lm as cheerful as I can be, but you wouldn’t Hae me feel downright happy, Jack, would yout “T tell you what, Harry, I’m as good as a hun- dred dead men yet. I’ve a presentiment that I shall pull through this job as I have many a — one before. I don’t fear the bully Span- jard. “No, Jack. Keep your pluck up.” “Now, Harry,”. said Jack, “when you are ' quite ready.” _ #oOW TO BECOME «a SPEAKER.—Containing fourteen iMustrationss I; giving the different positions requisite to become a good 5) g a Pe oh “Now.” “Come on.” “You have nothing to say, Jack, before we start?” =) **No.” * * * * They were first on the field. However, they had not long to than three minutes, Don Gil Pare. was seen vancing, leaning upon the arms of two brother Officers, Don Miguel Basten and a stranger. Close upon their heels came two more men. ~ ate first of them was the waiter from the otel. The other was a thick-set, pale-faced man, with a sort of semi-sailor cut about him. * * wait, for in less — \ reader and elocutionist. Also containing géms from all the popular authors of prose and poetry, arranged in the most simple and concise For sale by all newsdealers in the United States arte free, on receipt of ten cents. Address Frank Tousey, publisher, 34 and 36 No: manner possible. and Canada, or sent to your address, _ street, New York. Box 2730. } @OW TO BECOME AN INVENTOR.—Every hoy should know now ie ventions originate, This book explains them all, giving exampleg ) $n electricity, hydraulies, magnetism, optics _ ete., ete. The most instruetuve book For sale by all newsdealers iz: the _ Frank Tousey, publisher, Box 2790, trnks The former saluted Jack and his companion with the grave dignity peculiar to the Spanish people. The latter advanced towards Jack and Harry, saluting them as they aE proached. “T thought I’d like to look on and see fair play, sir,” said the waiter, touching his hat. “I am not a bad swordsman, and if there should be foul play on the part of these dons, Pll stand by you, sir.” “Thank you, and who have you brought with you?” said Ji ack, “A fellow countryman of ours. The diver who has been sent for to go down tothe Alba- tross.” “Indeed,” said Harry Girdwood, turning to the diver, “So you are an Englishman?” ‘Yes, sorr,” replied the driver, ‘an’ it’s proud Iam of that same, sorr.” “Well, we won’t say English altogether,” said Jack, smiling, “a Briton, at all events.” ‘Yes, sorr. Dublin?” “County Galway, sorr, at your sarvice,” re- turned the diver, with a salute. “And have you come to see fair play, too?” ‘Ye may say that, an’ be jabers, I’ll see it, the murtherin’ bosthoon. Give half a worrd, sorr, an’ I'll wire into the lot of ’em at oncet.” Jack laughed. “There’s no. need for that at he said; ‘‘he’s trod on the tai present, turn,” “You're a fine boy, anyhow,” exclaimed the diver, in undisguised admiration. ‘‘I hope as there’ll be little left of the omadhauns for me to pound away at by the time you’ve done with ‘em. resent, thanks,” of my coat at You can wire in when I’ve had my “Tm only going to fight with one of them,” replied Jack, with mock gravity; ‘‘there’ll be plenty for you be es 3 away at afterwards.” ‘‘Hurrah!” cried the Irishman, ‘‘that’s balm to one’s feelings, anyhow.” The others drew near. Don Gil Perez had divested himself of hat, eb and coat, and he stood ready in his shirt leeves. Jack speedily followed suit. Harry Girdwood handed Jack his weapon. Then it was for the first time that Don Miguel discovered the difference in the swords, and he at once interfered. “Senor Harkaway understood that the combat was to be with sabers, Don Miguel,” said the waiter, pretending tointerpret. = __ The notorious duelist curled his lip scornfully when this was told him. “The English boy is laughing at us,” he said. “He only wants a pretext to save his skin.” _ “No pretext, senor,” replied the waiter, promptly. ‘Senor Harkaway remarks that the gentleman beside you wears a saber. He says, too, that any weapon is indifferent to him.” “The saber be it, then,” said Don Miguel; “‘and let him consider he has not five minutes to live.” The officer who had accompained them, hand- ed Don Gil Perez his saber, and the latter cut the air viciously with it to try its temper. “He looks as if he’d like to make sassengers of the whole biling of us,” said the diver, with a comical grimace. They were about to give the signal to engage, when Don Miguel advanced to his_principal’s side, and said something to him in a low tone. peaker, Moore Box 2730 7 oe mechanics, shed. Price 10 cents Box * h v % ¥ 1 : 7} ¥ te UWserul and Instructive Rooks. Ss or sent to your address, Poe. Ae ee publisher, 34 an “4 brave lad, you say.” returned the duellist, coarsely, ‘and spare him? Bah! he has soughtit, and he must pay the penalty. His mother’s tears should not save him now. I will have the English dog’s life.” He hoped that his*adversary would hear it, and that this gentlemanly speech would serve to unnerve him for the combat. But he just forgot that Jack did not under stand a word that was said. The military Cockney waiter did, however, and he turned away in disgust. “Beast!” he muttered. ‘Ready? “Yon? “Remember your face-guard, sir,” said the waiter, quietly. ‘‘Hold your elbow low, keep © the hilt of your sword straight between your eyes He’sa powerful and wicked brute. If he tries to break down your guard by mere force, don’t attempt to parry, but leap aside, and give him your point—not too high, for I don’t think you could get it into him about the chest.” The honest waiter’s meaning became apparent after the contest was over. You will see how, “On guard!” The swords clashed, and the Spaniard began by a desperate down cut. which Jack, remem- bering his instructions, leaped asidetoavoid,and ~ boring suddenly in, down went the brutal duel- list with a gasp. “Hit!” cried the waiter. “Spitted, By, jabers!” “Carambal” Cote cried the wounded combat- ant. And staggering up, sword¥in hand, he made a step forward, as if to cleave his young adver- sary to the earth, but ere he could reach him, Jack passed his sword through his side. The Spaniard, with a groan, tottered,and fell again in a deathly faint. Jack at once dropped his sword, and ran for- ward. *T hope he is not badly hurt,” he said, drop; ping on one knee by the side of the wounded man. The officer whose sword Don Gil Perez had borrowed for the combat proved to bea military surgeon. e@ examined the wound,and speedily relieved all rien A upon this head. “An ugly wound, Care and rest only requir- ed,” he said. “Tm heartily glad of that,” said Jack, with a . See ee sigh of relief. Day Hneeae himself of his principal’s safe- ty, ne iguel Basten beckoned the waiter to is side. “Tell the young Inglese from me that he has conducted himself like a brave lad—that he is an honor to his name and to his country, and that if he wants a friend while here, he may count upon Miguel Basten.” “T will, senor.” “And tell him also that the sooner he is awa: from this place now, the better it will be. I wis the brave boy well.” This was translated to young Jack, who’ bow- ed his acknowledgments, and having resumed his jacket, started with his friends towards his hotel. Will be continued in “Wide Awake Library” No. 1249 entitled: YouNG HarRKaway In SpaIn, HOW TO KEEP A WINDOW GARDEN.—Oontaining full instructions ' for constructing a window garden either in town or country. and the most approved methods for raising beautiful flowers at home, The most zomplete boee of the kind ever published. Priee,10 cents, For sale by all newsdealers in the tate sent to your addres: Frank Tousey, publisher, 34 and 36 North Moore Street, New York, United States and Canada, or postage free, on receipt of price. Address \ HOW TO KEEP HOUSE.—It contains information for everybody, boys, girls, men and women; it will teach you how to make almost any~ pena eeaae he house, such as. b ments, @olian harps, and bird lime for catchin tod States and Canada, or cents. For sale by all newsdealers in the United sent to your address, postage xree, on receipt of prict. Addresg #4 and 86 North Moore street, New York, parlor ornaments, brackets, ce- birds. Price 40) 0% paid, on receipt ft phos Api ig aid, on receipt of price. . 1 36 North Moore Stroot, New Yorks: ba ese is hf eye 7 7
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