Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 8, Number 51, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 15 June 1878 — Page 2

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

BUSH!

"I can flcarcel/lifeAr,* sh£ ttt firm tired, "For my heart beats load and fast, Btttiurelyln-ttretar^ntrdtstance

I can hear a song at last." "It to only the reapers #lnglnk i"» As thsy carry home their sheaves And the everting breeze has risen,

And rastlea the dying leaves." •'Listen ffthere'are vblees talking Calmly still she strove to speak Yet her voice grew faint and trembling,

And the red flashed in her eheek, "It lsonly the children playing. Below, now their work Is done, And they laogh that their eyes, are dazzled

By the rays of th setting son-" .Fainter grew their voices, and weaker,. As with anxious eyes she cried, "Dow* the arenas of chestnuts

I can bear a horseman ride." »«It wasonly the deer that were feeding In a herd on the clover grass: They were startled and fled to the thicket,

As they saw the reapers paw." JJow the nlght rose In silence,

My freedom! What did that mean to me? Let me try, bitter as is the recol lection of that time, to recall something

ey

my servitude began,I used to be sleepless at night sometimes stupidly wondering sometimes moaning in agony of misery sometimes praying for swift and speedy death sometimes asking bitterly if prayer were any use, if there was any one at all to hear ana pity outside the white stone wall sometimes meditating on some possible mode of suicide to end it all—because, you see, I was innocent.

At the beginning otImprisonment, when I slept, my to the back

and girls, I for on

aide,' Ingmlom nothing. Bat in illy work I thf ed downward

1 5

Birds lay fa their leafy nart, And the aeer cronehed in the forest,

their leafy nest, cronehed in the

And the children wire at rest. There was oaly a sound of weeping From watchersaroond a bed Snt rest to a weary^^rHj r.

ADELAl®* A. POBTEB.

Peace to the qaieU

When the Ship Qqraes Home.

aaii* ma

BY WAX/TEH BKSANT AND JAMfcS BICE.

Authors of "The Golden Bqtterfly," etc.

CHAPTER I. RELEASE.

A oonvict! That is what I was intbe year 1861—a convict, with a sentence on my head of twenty years' penal servitude, fifteen of therti still to elapse,' for forgery and embezzlement, the crime having bean committed under circumstances (asthe Jadge remarked), of the most revolting and exaggerated Ingratitude—a conviot in New South Wales.

It seemed to me at the time, and it seems to me still', but a small thing for which I received a remission for the unfinished term of yean, compared with the thing fqr wtycb I was found guilty and received my sentence. There waa a rising, a sadden and purpoqpiess rising, among the convicts, and at a-critical moment Heaven in ita mercy put it into my head to do what they called a heroic deed. It saved the lives, they said, of the governor and one or two prison warders, and it gave me my freedom Let us say no more about it.

Cid

would fly liberty. I

ippy days o:

saw myself gt school 1 was visiting my patron, master and benefaotor, Mr. Baldwin, to whom my dead father had been a faithful and trusted servant. He questioned me, as was his wont, on my progress In the classeshe patted me on my head when I showed him my prizes and when, at slfcteen, be took me away from the sohool, where he had paid for my edacatlon, it was to give me a desk In his counting house, with the promise of advancement should I deserve it. As the years went on, I saw myself pushed up with as modi rapidity as was fair to others. Responsible work was put into my hands. At twenty I enjoyed such confidence as the head of a great city bouse could bestow on a young clerk, and I waa allowed suoh a salary that I could live comfortably, and have my little sister Ruth—my only sister—to live with me. When my dreams reached this point I generally awoke with a start and a rush of thoughts, confused at first, but swiftly resolving themselves into the ghautly truth. For then followed the dreadful end—my good old master In the witness box telling, with sobe of a broken voice, how he had loved and trusted me the Immediate and unanimous finding of the verdiot the Voice of the Judge—cold, stern, never to be forgotten—stating that, in the face of the foots before him, be must make a signal example of as black a hau ever been revealed in a court of justloe. The sentence of theoourt would be twenty years of penal servitude. And after that ray little Ruth— oh 1 my pretty, innocent, helpless little sister Of ten—woeplng before me, when she came to take her leave ot me, and I not able to do anything—not the least single thing—not able tosa^ any wordnot the least single word of comforttoo miserable even to assert my innocenoe! 1 cannot bear even now to think about it. For I Was lunocent.

After a tow months of prison 111*81 loft off dreaming of the pint. Then the present was with me night and day—a present without Joy,hope or Uncertainty a present without pain, shame or suffering, save fbr the leaden weight ot degradation whiob never leaves a prisoner. Yet BO open sense of disgrace, because there were none to look tn my face and ahame me with a glance. You do not feel disgrace before a warder or an official, and yet the shame is that part of toe punishment which the judge always forgets it cornea after thesentenoe is worked out. There waa no suffering, because the day's work brought the Bight's fatigue, and there was no one at jafl of evening in my solitary oeil to keep me awake with reproaches but always that heavy load upon the brain, and foe present, monotonous and dreadful as it waa, with the night and day. 1 jr Hew months to think, to feel, to look forward. I became a ma-

eeasedina vary look foi ehlue even the thought of my lnnoeenee died out of me by degreea. I supposed that* aomebow, I must have done it-perhaps In madneas, perhaps in a dream or rather I accepted the present, and forgot the past, I even forgot poormtte Ruth, and ceased to wonder what had become of her I Miot what I had been. I waa convict thara was nothing before am but pdeon *U my lire.

Ttie Masons rolled on the bright sun overhead beat down upon the bare prison yards the moonlight atreao»ed through the ban of my window. Summer followed winter, and waa followed by winter again. Outsldfe the prison the world went on in Its quiet colonial way. No doubt within a stone's throw cf my oeil women were wooed, children were torn there were rejoicings and thanksgivings in families, with mirth of boys

fnrrRT?'Pf8TT

and

stone floor,' and the whitewash grow dull a* the night creepethrough the ban. That change came when I bad been at Sydney a twelvemonth. They put me, Because I waa well educated and intelligent, into the apothecary's room. There were a few meaical booksof reference, which I waa allowed in the intervala of work to read. And ao by degrees anew interest waa awakened in my brain, and in a draggled, brokenwinged fashion, I began to live again. What I read in the day I thought over at night, until I knew all that the books had to teach me. The doctor brought more, books, and I read them, and be taught me things not to be learned in books. Thus I became in* some sort a physician and Burgeon. Onoe when I shewed the doctor what 1 knew, he startled me into long-forgotten hope. 'When your time is out,' said he, 'you might become an apothecary they always want them in the oooly ships.' lime out 11 felt a sudden giddiness as the blood rushed to my head, lime out! Ah! when For there were fifteen yean yet to serve, and even with a ticket of leave, then were nine yean before me. Twenty yean of age when I was sentenced twenty-five when the doctor spoke those kindly words of forecast I might be forty before my release could be counted on, for tbey are hsrd on forgers. What sort of lift was there be-

that fortieth year for a man who to begin over again, and carry such a burden of disgrace aa mine?

Enough about the convict time. I received in due course a fall remission of the remaining period. When I came away the governor offered to. shake hands with me, because, .he said, I was a brave man. I asked him-to shake hands with me because I was an innocent man,and beshookhisbead. Then I thgnked him, but refused ,$o take the proffered hand for php sense of my innooence capie back to nje strong and clear on the morning of my release. Then the chaplain rebuked me, and rightly. Why should the governor— why shpuld any one—believe me innocent Only the doctor stood my friend. 'I have read your case,'he Said, 'and it is the clearest case I ever did read Either you are the forger or the devil and since you have worked for me, Warne: ford, 1 believe upon my honor that it was ihe devil. But no one else will ever believe that. Good-by, my lad, and God prosper you.' So that I had my little mite of'comfort. In all this great world there was one' man who thought my assertions true. Stay there was another mad—one who not only believed, but knew me lnnocenlt. The man who did it. But who was he? Fori bad no enemy in the world, and there was no one whom I could even reasonably suspect.

I left the prison with an angry heart when I ought to have been the most grateful, for I realised most bitterly, when I breathed the free air again, that for the rest of my miserable life I was to be a marked, man. Go where I would, fly to the uttermost parts of the earth, there was no spot so retired, no place so remote, but that some echo of the past visited It, breathing my name and story there would be no moment when I should feel safe from the fear that some finger might reach forth from the crowd ana point me out as Warneford the FOrgdr. Why, the governor said that the papers were ringing with my "heroic deed." So much the worse for me, be cause it would make concealment more difficult. Grateful? Why should I be grateful, I aaked, for being dell vend from an unjust bondage with the stigma of dishonor branded on my brow, plain for all men to read? Time enough to think of gratitude when I could plead before the world a proved and manifest lunocence.

The olty of Sidney, in those days, was a quiet and peaceful place, not on the way to get rich, and with little to talk about. They wanted to make much of me and'my exploit offeraof employ ment came In people reasoned with me that, if I staid there, I ahould certainly et on they pointed out other men who iad worked their ierh® and staid In the settlement, and were now flourishing and respected citiaens. But I could not stay there waa no .rest possible for me till I was back In London. I wanted tb see the old place again. I thought if I oould have a quiet three months on board a ship, I oould put things together in my mind better than I ceuld do in the prison, and perhaps get a clew be'cause, you see,! never had been able, from the very beginning, to put things clearly to myself. Before the trial I had but one thing to say--I did hot do it of that alone I waa certain. When my case came on, I stood like one in a dream, while the circumstantial evidence piled Itself up, and even my oounael could find nothing to say for me. After the sentence 1 was as a man who la stunned.

And then another thought came over me as I stood outside the prison wall, a thought which ahould have softened any heart—the thought of little Ruth. She ten years old when I left her—flfteen now. What was become of her? It had been my earnest wish that I might bring her up to be a gentlewoman, like her mother hefore her—asweet Christian maid, aa her dead mother was before her—and strong in goodness, aa her dead fkther bad been, sow—what bad become of her? And whose fault—whose fault? It waa mocking grace of sunshine and aweetneai of beauty grasses wet with dew, that I saw for the irst time tor many year*. The tree air that I Ml around me oould bring no salve or comfort to a ruined life it could not drive away the thought of another whoae wreck waa due to my own.

which thoug to the

MIM ugW inM

dhave drift-

Into that dismal onoe

slough of atupld .r

XHtRE HAUTE. JUNE 15,1878 in which the patient can no longer think of anything, not even his own sorrowful

of anting, it was bitterla flowers and tender

So the freedom which waa restored to me threatened to become a curse, and, eart, I shook off the Sidney dust from my feet, and started for Melbourne. I woold go then* I bad a little money, which I had earned by my apotheeary wbrk. I would take the cheapest passage home under another name it might be that no one woold know that a oonvict was on boanL and so I could ait quietly during a long, three month's vbyage, and think. Just then*

I

eould not think dearly, because I waa mad and blind with re-awakeped rage, and, in my bitterness, I coned the day that gave me birth, a oonvict released before his time! Why, if people looked at ma, I knew in my heart they were saying, 'That to George Warneford, the famous forger, let off for courage in the mutiny. Bat any one can nee that he hi

fey. mot hisfaoe.' my blind

a eonvtoti that ia apparent froa And whoae fault?' I cried in anguish—'whoae fault?1

As I strode along the faintly tracks and silent patha of that lonely country, then gnw up in me a purpose and a hope, the purpoae waa to hide myself woea I arrived In England—to get, if possible, aome abrt of occupation

A TTTTS HA^ClfcDAY EYE

save my ~ovote wiui

stand on«M*aynbefolre the W9H0—my prisoner in one hand, my proofs In the other—and demand ravenge.

And all that followa ia the history of how thia purpoae got itself carried oat, in what manner my hope waa achieved, and what sort of rqrenge I perpetrate^ at last.- *...* Jl x%.K

KURD

KB

One night I saW things in their grim reality. I saw how weak I was, Isaw the hopelessness of my task. and I foresaw how I was to creep back to my native country, pardoned, it la true, with good conduct, but brapded till deatL with the gallows tree mark of forger and thief. And at such a tlme I was willing to go back to my prison^ and serve out the rest of my life in the apothecary's room.

Lurid

times a friendly .shephe try station gave me tea What It was like, that great continent through which 1 journeyed on foot, I cannot say, because I walked along with open eyes which saw not. ears, which never heard, and senses which never felt anything. Only, as I said before, the light and sunshine witched me iQ$o confidence, which the darkness tore away. And the agony was like the agony of Prometheus when the eagle tore away hWllver.

I think in those days I must, have been mad 'for if 1 had not. be^n fnad I must have known that then was still one heart sonne#hen in England beat" ing with love for me, one voioe.goingup In prayer for me day and night. But If I thought of Ruth at all, it was only to bitterly remember bow my ruin was ben, and it made me more fiercely mad.

It was not difficult at Melbourne to

Eor

et a ship bound for London. The tnrwas full of ships Whose enws had deserted and gone off to the gold field a.. Now and then the oaptpinahftd deserted their ships as. Well, they all seemed bound for London, becausertbe port of Melbourne was then a very little place, and Ita trade was small the trouble^** that then wen no, crews to carry back the ships. I bad to cast about and watt. I was the only than, I believe, In all that oolony who neither looked to find gqtld for himself in the diggings, nor tifcd to make money out of those .who, were, starting for the diggings.

After a few weeks or restless waiting —each day that kept me from a visionary nyenge waa a day lost—I discovered that a vessel would Ball Immediately. I got this infonnation In an Indirect way, froui a man whoae business it Waa to

wen dru that if tb would not Then I aa them to were like brute bei

OM. BOARD I"

I": worked my wwf to Helbour&e ebt foot, hoarding my money, as if in some vague way it was going to assist me in my purpoae! In the morning I was res* olute and confident. I would get back to London: on the voyage I would set. down all that I oould remember, to the smallest detail—every little fact of that happy bygone time before this evil thing foil upon me. No doubt I should find a clew at last somehow I woaJd follow it up, step fey step, till my ptooft accumulated to irresistible evidence. I pictured myself, under the glamour of that bright sunshine of Australia, standing before the proaperous devil who had done the deed—he was always prosperous and happy In my dreauw—and ragging him befon justice._elf standing before the old mau—ii benefactor—denouncing his readiness believe, his nilrelertmg persecution when he did believe alwaya bnrryin onward a full and complete,nyenge^ti. not one of those who had bad a bapd in my unmerited rnin shotild ramtixi w! out his share of a cup of bitterness*

1

hope that seemed golden, or 'r, it mattered nothing, be­

dark despair, siiheri lifewi but long before the. eye? at twenty-five

cause either in hope or despair my_ mis

arable life was before- ife .stretches to be got through jsQflae-

—and it had bow. Alwayain those days the thought myself and my wrongs! The wrong was so great, the ruiu so overwhelming, that there was no room left for any other fedliiifli*

For, instance, I arrived in the colony of Victoria in the days when the whisper of gold was running like Wildfire through its scattered hamlets and along ita giant sheep runs but when xther men's nerves thrilled at the chance .of boundless wealth waiting to be picked, up, I listened coldly. Again, to this* day I have no senSe or recollection of what the country was like (-through which I toiled.alone, from station to station, in my resolutlou to get to the place where my face at least, if not my name, should be unknown. I know walked through wild and savaged istricts, where there were dangers of thirst, dangers of reptiles, and dangers of treacheroila natives. I believe that I sometimes Slept out for dava'together. I know that was always alone* exoept that some aherdin an up coupdamper and

He was and I

piling up money iahoneat tricks and the released

hand over band by di cheatings, with, myself, felon of a blameless life,. no questions, either when whither I was going. He took the money for my boards and be bade me hold myself in readiueaa for a start and one day I got the word, and went on board the eiipper aailing vessel "Lucy Derrick," bound from Melbourne to London. I was a steerage passenger—the only one man In his aenses atlme.

He asked me I waa from or

becauae no other poor bour would leave Melbourne at such Then wasonly one saloon passenger, and she wasa young lady of ooutae no one but a lady would leave Melbourne when the very air waa dry with thirst for gold. She was under the charge, I learned, of the captain, and was sent home In order that her IMber, a lawyer by profesaion, might go up to Ballerat and try to make his fortune In the gold fields.

The captain wasagra^ headed man of sixty-five or so, a man with a face scarred and scored in a thousand linea. It was a bard and stern face. This was well because he had bard, stent work before him. The chief officer, a young fellow of twenty-five, ou the contrary, showed in bia face, which waa mild, and soft eyed, that he waa not the man to eommand suoh a craw of toughs and rowdiea.

I say nothing against him, and to the end be fought ft out to tbe death There were a aecond fchd a. third mate, too— a boy of aixteeu, w* yet out ot hiaartkUea, Ciie other waa a rough tru^y fellow, every inch aaallor. A# for the saloon passenger—ahe was to b0 my queen and mhrtteas. Htlen Blwood waa iw naaoe. HevfHtbar brosMht har mm beard hall aa hour, hffon embarkML and took a haaty leave. of her, I noticed neither him nor her, becauae, intSh,Iwa* stUldartibv tbe long S«am!ln which I had walfod.au the way from Sidney to Melbourno-my dream of a purpoae. I sat in the bows, with my bundle beside me, hardly noting when tbe anchor was weighed, and proanntlr tbe ahlp spread her white sails, and gently we slipped away out to

Then I

began to look about me. Tbe

fint thing I noticed was that the men

k^irlth ^lowb. The- metf rute beasts, but I never saw i^Hbly beaten aa thoae:

they wera dH9^3bt they understood enough to turn-round when the officer and awear savagely. On the

'dowQr aa the quarter master or boatswain, and I was right. Every now and then he jerked bfa nead In the direction ofthe young lady, and I knew that he was euooui*ging her, but of :course I oould not hear what he,, said, .if, indeed, he did say any thing.

All that Ant day the captain and the officers drove ana ordered the men about, as if the had, beeu ao many negro slaves. When night fell things were a little ship shape, and the men seemed gradually coming: rouud When I turned tar the watch waa set and though neither the captain nor the chief officer left the deckTTt was manifest that some sort of order was established, and that the captain meant to have tMuga Us

His own way it, waa for a moqth more. ... I suppose there Was never got togfcther, since sbipa fint began to sail tbe oqean, a orew ao utterly blackguard aa the enw of the "Lucy Derrick." As a storage passenger my place was forward and I sat all day olose to the fore-

castle, listening perforoe to the oatha with which tbey interlarded their language and the stories they told for their amusement.

Now.as .- an ex ooBviotreturnlngfrom Sidney, there ought to have beep nothing in the whole scale of human wickedrtess unfamiliar to me.' Truth to say there was very little. He who has been in a convict sbtpr*nd harmade the dismal voyage aoroas the opean' with, dpr MajeSty's felons,* has -bad eVe'ry opportunity of learning what a hell might be made of this fair earth if men had their own wicked way.

Somehow it might have been that my abject talsery 'at* the time blinded my eyes and stopped my ear*. Tbe voyage, with its sufferings by night, its desp«4r by day, and ttie norr6rof my companionship, waa all forgotten^ao that, as I lay upop the. deck, thp im precautions and fool language of thfe crew of the •'Lucy Derrick," as 'they got together oh the foreoastie, awakened me from .that Stupor o^f thought iuto which I was fallen, as some .unexpected noise at night falls upon the ears of ah uneasy dreamer and awakens him to reality. No one la tbe ship said anything to me, or took any notice of me. 'It is because I am a convict,' I whispered to myself. It' was not. It was because no one took the trouble to ascertain who ami what the iteprage passenger was. I took my meals With the'second and third rrfates, and we exchanged little conversation. I snppose: .they, thought I .was sulky. Between meals I went on deck, and staid therd', and for ,the want of anything to do, looked about me and: watched the r:..- At' I Jn a few weeks after leaving land I became aware of several significant things1. Tbe first was that tbe offioefs his never went forward alone and that tbey Were gloomy, end. seemed to watching the men. I noticed too—being, so to speak, among the sailors—that tbey whispered together a good deal. Among them was a young fellow of twenty-five, who seemed the leader |n the whisperifigs. He never passed ahbther sailor without saying something in a low voice and when be passed me, be had a way, which exasperated me, of grinning and nodding. He was smooth faoed imrfhii with what seemed at right knife midnight broil,gave him asinister appearance. H^s eyes,were close together and bright his forehead was highi but receding aud Be lotfkdd In Spite of his seautan's dress, less like a sailOr' than any ttian .«ver saw!. Afloat. Yet he was handy afloat 6r on deck and I have seen him on a windy day astride on the* end 6fa yard, inarHne spike in band, doing bis Wdrkaa fearlessly andiaa well a» the bpatof them. ^Th^tever the men

And' I

jail. Other things I hotlted. The boatswain, who at fint seemed .to spend bis whole tipae a* the wbeei. fometlmes gave up his post to the fourth officer and came forward.' THeta thin were no whisperings but the men kept aloof from blm, all hpt Bostpn Tom, which was the' name of the smooth cheeked villain. Boston Tom always spoke to him, and spoke him fair, addressing him as 'Mister Croil.' Ben Croil, as I afterward learned to call blm, was a man of fifty-five Or sixty years short of stature, tbinatid wiry bis hair cropped does, apd qaite gray bia face covered all over with crowafeet bis eyes, which be bad a trlck of shutting up 6ne after the other while ho looked at you, of a ouriously pale and delicate blue. As a young man, Ben Croil must have been singularly handsboLe, a* indeed, he'waa proud of teSling. In bis age he bad a fiabe wblob you trusted andaa for bis mindbut we ah all come to old Ben'a -inner self presently. For his sake I love and respect thfe raoe of boatswains, quartermasters, and non-^commissioned offioera generally of her m^eaty'i navy, and of all the ships, steamers, and ocean craft afloat. For if Merchant lack is rude and rough, drunken and diarepUtable, his immediate superior, aa a rule, la steady aaa lion, temperate as a Newfoundland dog, ana as'tme as the queen ol my heart.

There waa. a strip's' boy on board— there alwaya la. I -tavo heard it atated that the bodies of ahlps' boys are inhabited by the souls of those who were once cruel ship* captaina otiMn-pebple think that they an possessed or the aoulaof shipa' provisioners, ahipa'tout-

farawssft

Both agree that the lotof aUahipB* boya ia miserable, that none of them oyer arrive at maturity, and that their suffer

a uloe hojr i» look at, beeausb he washed and Wat lgmrant of a I aoou found out thaTheyt cuiy

k-5, ^Ulnev«ytbBg»heknew

ao one

depend on me. I know what ypu pretend to be aobuay at the wheel tar I cueaa what you tell him. and I have Smn yon HsUoiug among the men. You tell Mr.Croilthathemaydwwlonme if he wants me.' The boy foil to tnmbUng all over, and he looked around earafully to see if any of tbe men wen within hearing. As there waa no one be told qe in a quick hurried way that

^ju^ieKS—ZSk"' th# bditfswain% Alao that the men knew periectly well that, the 6aptain and offioera were all armed to the teeth but that tbey were waiting for an opportunity, and would make or find one before long, for tbey were aU mad to be back at the gold fielda. f^owSi^formaUon, which corroborated my suspicions, served to rouse me ud

and mope over my own misfortunea, wben there WM thla danger bahglng over the ship and cargo. Anu being, as one might Bay, wide awake- agkln, of courae I remembered thO yotuog lady we had on board and. nay heart grew mad to think of her. falling into tbe bands of Boston Tom and his gang of ruffians. So I was glad to think that I had sent that mesaaget and I resolved to

shodld have a mesWgb ftdth Che boatswain ^aol sat to my ustud place and Waited,.

The boy took.my message. but no anaWeriaDMB that day at all.: In tbe night a strange thing happened. It was fair weather sailing, with tbe trade wind blowing nearly aft, ao that all sails were set, and the ship slipped through the water without so much as rolling. I Wassbubdaslteep in my bunk.When I heard voices. as It aeemed in my ear. They w«re brought to me, I amount ty special act of Providence, for never oould understand otherwise how I managed to hear theta. First. there feU a fidnt buaaing oh my e», whieh I, being drowsy and heavy to sleep, did not much listeB to then I heard words plain, iHd^llSten^d the conversation &«e to ^ne io hite, 'but I made -out enough.. It was evident that the er^w, intended to mutinyr-to choose the very next night, as I gathered (but I was Wrong),

Tfor

of the two went away I heard his bare feet on tha boards.. I stepped lightly out of the bunk, and nut my hand upon my knife—such a knifq aa. diggera and p-country people used 'tb carry—a illfe that would do for any^purpoAe at

all events I would sell my as.could. toth

4

their pdrpoee, and to carry

tibe ahip back thl Australia^ when tbey would souttleher, and land au near tbe gold fields aa possible. Once, there they

Be brave,

ing ia wrong, Hera's tbe ca^ I noticed tbe came slowly

liuio* vuyvi vuvto vuvj

would sepArate and 'eo. every ttiah for bfmselfc Add then I beard toy own name -mentioned, but -oould not hear what was to be done withm?.^ ATter that the voices became aUent, and I awake tbihklng What Ut &6 neart.,. Now this sort of thing waa not llkely to make

I"heMdftS'ofci^jiin^hlysh

I thought I knew for thtf OT Bdston tom—'I will ToTTsTonce'Tand if any-

dearly I slip-

pe^ to^the side 6f the'eabih, Which, as In most old fashioned sailing-ship^ waa of a good Size, though of ooursei hot a State cabin. I oould feel the breath ofthe murderer as he.pushed

PU

head in, and called me. It was afterward thai I Tfemembend how tiling It: was that 1M ahould my real name, becauae I had shipped under another. 'You, Warneford,'he said in a hoarse voice, 'get up and come on'dfcekt Wake up, do yoo hear? Come out,you forging oonvict, and see the captain. Sulkln', are you? Then this will wfeke you up.' I heard a blow—two blows-^on tbe pillows of thif bunk, «nd steppibg swift* ly behind him, I found myself on the forward .companion in total darkness. I knew where 1 was, however and roe way: As quldk as thought I ran up the ladder and oven the deck, breathing

t:i

trange a IJOW

ahd at least there were three hodre left for consideration. There was nothing unusual in my appearance on deck at night. Tbe air was hot, and oppressive below on, deck it was oool. I had often stretched, myself bin siich nights on the tarpaulins, and slept as soundly upon them as in my cabin no one among the conspirators Would think it strange to find me thua. Presently 1 pulled myself together a bit, and made up my mind, things being as tbey were, to go straight to the officer of the, watch. He was walking up and down, a boatswain's whistle hanging round his neck. When he saw me, he held It in readiness.

Murder is on hoard, air,M reported, a? calmly as I eould. ., •Ay, ay/ he replied. 'Very likely go iatt and Mb the bo*B*n.'

It wtta a atrange reply, but I understood later on, that it had been already reeolved to focept- my services, and to truat me with fire-arms. So wben I went aft, the boatswaltfpulI»d out a revolver, a knife, and sound aidunition, which be had reidy for me.

There I' said bo,' do your duty by the ship, young fellow we shall wibt you to-morrow night, belike, or maybe soon er. But go below and turn in.'

Tbis I would not do. I watted for the officer, and begged him to listen to me again while I told him my story.

I take it, sir/ said the* lxatswain, that they may try it op to-night. It ian't a bad dodge, you roe, to got the day altered a bit in the treachery and if you'll allow me, sir, I'll tell off the p*s for the young lady*' 'it

pistoia against twenty-five men.' officer. 'I thjnk we can flgbt it thout waking the yefting lady.*

T. aald the offic—, out without waking

But the boatawaln urged that he bid got everything ready for her that ahe would bo Irigi^^down below,and mfght epme up on deck In the thick of the flgbt and get harmed' ao that it was finally resolved toawaken her and bring her up on deck.

Now, mister/ said the boatawaln to me, you look like a man who's got his eye* oj*m and Ida hesd M*. on right ride up you listen to tn». W uen the young lady oomas on deck I shall put her in thia boat.' There was a gig hanging to the stern davits these wen lurned round in readineas for the beat to be lowered. 'If things go wrong, as tbey wiU sometimes go wrong in this world's gear, lower away' (he showed tee the rope),' and allng yourself Hi after hen then, If no one abe eomea, cat her ad rift, beeampp we shall be dead. When I whistle, orthe chief officer whistles, don't Walt, hot even for a partfrijg shot,' but lowftfybunfelf aWay wfthb«r, and take

Tho nwapeff of a fight stesdied pay nerves, ana after-a careful examination of the rope, on Whieli all talgbt depend, and looking to my revolver, which was folly loadea and a^ped, I began to CeeL

All this took time. The fourth officer ss giving ordento tbe men on watch, which prevented them noticing me talk at tbe wheel and It struck six bells, which waa three o'clock In the morning, wben I saw the young lady, dressed and onthedeclc.

What is it?' she aaked tell me what Is wrong, Mr. Croit'

said 'nothty miqrbe.j

face as be tffStlf tbe

attack was'made that night, some lives might be sent to aBudden reckoning. He was aa steady as a rock.

Miss Elwood,' he said,' we expect a little mutiny, and we are quite ready for it but we nave asked you on deck to keep you as safe as possible. They have got no fira-tarma, but we may have an tussle.* Let me help you into the

There ararugs and wraps, and we get

Will have

them in irons but if they try it on tonight, we mu^l fight them.' Tbe young lady obeyed with a shudder, but *aid no word Then the captain looked, round The chief officer, with the third-Offider.'waiMforward: with himself was thaaetand' mate and behind him was the boatswain steeling the ship.-"*"

How'a her head. boVn Nor'weet by we«, sir* 'And the tradeMltraight as a line the ship may navigate herself for half an hour. What's that for'ardk?' he asked,

^Mutineers,' said the"iX)atswain, quiet-

ly'Steady,ah,'said^heMsaptain.

'You,

sir '—be turned tome—' remember your post.' In tbe dim twilighh Of the star-lit night—for the moo if was down—I saw creeping up the «Jompanionijor'ard one, two, three half a qozen black forms. With the otHwiw I wttchedi and waited, my pulse b©attngquioker,but my nerves. I think, steady* Then there was a shout and a rusli. We heard the crack, crack of the pistols of the two officers forward,

ets, pressed onward with a roar like so many escaped devils. The boatswain pushed me back as I made a movement with the captain.

To your place, slr7 he said,' and remember the whistle 'but I fired my pistol'once, for in the darkness I saw a figure creeping under the shade of the taffrail toward tbe helm. Perhaps it might be* the leader, Boston Tom but I could not jieiQ. I fired and he dropped. A Uiooieifcftlter I healrd. the whistle of the boatswain. In minstant I let go the iopeit end Mie boat dropped swiftly into tbo

In all my life •t.ii tfiww that scene on the deck which I caught as I sprang over the side and loweredmyself, handover baud, into the boat. The pistoLahota, were silent now, and It seemed as If. with a mighty stamping and mad ihdutihg 'there were a 4o«on figures

photograph

palbted 6h my brain, and baa remained theroever since. Sometimes still, after all these yean, I awaken at night to hear the cries andL oaths of the sailors, the of the captain's pistols, and to reCrack

Sroachyoung

myself for not 1

save the ahlp.

opened, and jlnp

oh! thank good mert

P1' haying done more

But I did my duty.

The lady was crouched, trembling,. in the stern of the boat. Ire -assured her with a word—there was no .. time for mora, for almost as soon as I reached the boat another form came hand Owr h*hd down the rope, and I sprang up, pistol in hand, to meet him. But ft WAS the bdatswaln. He had a knife, as he defended, between his teeth, and be held tbe rope for a moment,in his hand. Half adozen facee appeared In the blackness peering over the tafTra^l at him. The night air was beSvy with oaths, shrieks and groanS. VUlaina, murderers, cutthroats)'he cried 'you shall be banged, every mother's son. I know your namei: I've got y6ur record In my pocket/He severed the fopetoith a dextrous sweep of bis knife instantly tbe great ship seemed half a mile ahead of U8, as she slipped tbrougb the water before the strong trade wind. The boatswain shook bis fist'at her, as if tbe men on board cwnldaeeand hear. 'There gpes the Lucy Derrick,' be Mid 'as'sweet a clipper as ever sailed the tiris,')oir through a crew of mutineeriug, cut-tbroat villains. Tbey shall hang* •every one—that's settled—they shall hang, if I. bunt them round the world.*

l,iJ

Where are the offioera I asked. •*& •Brained^all of them—knocked on the head, and murdered. There, my pretty '-there, don't dry—don't take on. If tbe bfcptafn's gone, he died in defense of his sblp-^-gone to heaven tbe captain is, with nia»lihne officers.

In heaven this minute.

They've no call to be ashamed or afraid. Donethefr duty like men No call else what good expecting a man to do bis duty? And tie. craft,! or' near ... and Wit#, and plenty of room on tbis broad ocean in case bad weather comes On. Now, mister, what's your name, Wr

My name Is Warneford.' Good/sir. You'll allow me to com-1 mand this craft, if you please, through my being bred to tbe trade—not a gentleman, Bite you.'

Yes but perhaps I am not a gentloIhao,'I replied. 'Then you an a brave man I' cried tbe girl.. I watched- you. from the boat. I saw you shoot that man cneplng along on the deck *Ake a snake. And I owe my life to you and to Mr. Croil. But, poof and aelfisb thing to our lives,, with all those

1 for our Jives trltird^rred.' mid- Beti—I re—' tbey^i

Loo*^

Ben lor the foture—' the lubbers 1. Who'l" igate the vessel

shall call blm re 'bout ship, them to navthey cah't sail

JVe8!tfi

over us, that's otfe OOffffbrt.'

:i

It Was too dark for me to see more than the shape of the ahlp herself, atanding out a black .mass, wftb black masts and black sAll*, against the sky but Ben's practiced eye discovered that tbey wen ehdeavoring to alter herooune, for aome reaaon of their own.

We were tossing like a cockle-shell on the water, which was smooth, save for a long deep swell. We were all three very ailent and presently I beard noise. 'They are cruising in search of as.' said Ben 'see, they've reefed all. Well, it Is too dark for them to see us before daybreak, and if they erulae about till then —Mr. Warneford, you have your pistol.'

There was bnt one chamber discharged in mine Ben looked at bis own. We shall boabltf to «peak a boat,' be said, after a while, *«t lar-off quarters or close, and speak her we will to a pretty tune bat on such a night as tbis they might aa well look for King Fbaroh's chariot for the^aptaln'voii. Heart np,mypret-^ tyl We'U atond bv you and In the morning, well be off on another tack. Heftrttapt'

Then a eurions thing happened—tra-t luekri'm it seemed then. I kwe learned si nee—for my dear girliiaataught me -to look on it as a special grace of Providence. Suddenly—having been before th a black darkness—we came as it wen in tbe.eentor of great light all rounds th« boat there bunt from the darkened, boaom of the water lurid fiaahes of fire. The short crisp waves, aa they rose to a. bead, broke not in white sea-foam, but In liquid fire the swell of tbe ocean was like an upheaval of dull red lava the [Continued en Third rage.]