Rensselaer Republican, Volume 25, Number 3, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 15 September 1892 — CAST UP BY THE SEA. [ARTICLE]

CAST UP BY THE SEA.

BY SIR SAMVEL W. BAKER.

-? CHAPTER. XVIII Cox t inu en. Id a deep, voice he said, 1 1 his is the end of my mission, Paul Grey is still alive!” - “Alive! alive.! alive! Oh, for God’s Bake don’t deceive me! My Paul not dead! Where, where is he?” cried the almost frantic wife. “Here, in your arms, my .own swect wife. God has heard your prayers! lam Paul Ctey!” I nan instant he had thrown off his overcoat and shawl which concealed his features, and once more Paul pressed bis devoted Polly to his heart, while she clung around’his neck in a paroxysm of joy tbat*lmost approached to madness. CHAPTER XIX. When the first violent shock of delight was past Paul explained in a few words the history of his captivity and escape. After the fight with the French privateer, he had lain apparently d ead upon the deck, but as the water which washed the scuppers in which he lay flowed over him when the vessel rolled, he recovered sufficiently to show some signs of life, which saved him from being thrown overboard. Upon arrival at Dunkerque he was sent to the hospital, and when sufficiently recovered he was committed to a French prison. There he lay for years, until one day he was informed that ha had permission to see a friend who had called at the prison door. He reached the barred gate, and looking through the small iron grating, he saw to his astonishment and delight his old and true friend Leotine. Upon her arrival with her brother Victor in her native town, she had been arrested and confined in jail, for having aided in the escape of the prisoners; but upon the whole, affair becoming known, it caused a great sensation, and she shortly received a pardon. The unfortunate Francois, her old lover, who had been on guard when the prisoners escaped, and who had borrowed a comrade's uniform and arms to aid in her disguise for the nocturnal meeting, had been severely punished; and Lcontine, having recovered from the loss of Dick Stone, had rewarded Mie hardly treated Francois with her hand. They were married, and Francois soon forgot his hardships in the delight of hts gallant prize. Some years afterward, Francois, who had risen to the rank of lieutenant, happened to meet at a case a French sailor who was describing to a comrade an action in which he had been engaged with an English vessel. Listening attentively to his story he heard him relate the daring manner in which the English had boarded the French privateer, together with the escape of the disabled lugger, owing to the arrival of a British cruiser. Francois naturally concluded that this was a description of the action with the Polly, and joining in the conversation he gave an account of the manner in which Paul had escaped from prison and recaptured the lugger, when Leontine hud played him the trick long since forgiven. He then heard that Paul had recovered from his wounds and was confined in prison. From that moment Lcontine was determined to effect Paul's release, but she could not discover the place in ■ which she was imprisoned. Finally she found that he was in Dunkirque jail. Thither the faithful Leontinc at once set off and found him as described. She at once went to the jgovernor of the jail and related the circumstance of her brother's release and the kindness she had received in Falmouth, and she be sought him to forward her petition for Paul s release to the proper authorities. Struck with Leontines romantic tale and with her extraordinary beauty and energy of character, the governor exerted himself in Paul's behalf, to whom he had taken a special liking from the moment that he had entered the prison, as he had beard of his daring behavior in ' boarding the privateer After much delay Paul was included in a list for an exchange, of prisoners, and was sent to England. Landing at Falmouth he had hastened toward his old home. In a few days the news of Paul’s return was spread throughput the neighborhood. Editli shared in Polly Grey's happiness. Often bad Polly mourned on Christmas day, when others seemed so happy and she was miserable, but now she had spent, that day together with her long-lost I husband. They had knelt together in the church and poured but their hearts to God in humble thanksgiviug for a joy that fe w in this. world can know. But joy was not for all. Slowly and mournfully a powerful brown cob, tired with its journey in the deep snow’, carried its rider along the road from Falmouth to the rectory. Although the wind was cold and piercing, his great coat was unbuttoned. his throat was unprotected, and the empty slcevs of the left arm dangled unnoticed at his side. Jco Smart had heard the pews and was on his return; he was on the way to welcome his old friend Paul, and to take a farewell forever of Paul's wife. He could not trust himself again to be her friend; he knew that his happiness in this world was gone. Thus broken down in spirit, Joe Smart traveled slowly on. He did not feel the cold, for the hard frost was nothing to the dull that was in bis heart. He loved Tank and he had thoroughly bplievcd him dead; thus Im had never curbed his passion fur Fol Grey, and ait' w’ude so.J

had. become devoted to thatone object of bls affection. PauTa return was an avalanche of misery to him that had crushed every hope. At the same time his love for Polly was so thoroughly devoted and sincere that even in his misery be rejoiced at the intensity of happiness that she must feel at her husband’s resurrection from the dead. He dared not think of the future. To him the world mustba a blank. Then .he rode slowly on., It was late in the evening when Joe Smart reached the rectory and warmly pressed his old friend’s hand. He would not trust himself to see Paul’s wife, but he wrote her a letter of farewell, full of touching expressions of affection, concealing as much as possible his own distress and dwelling more upon her future happiness. He explained that he had not the courage to meet her to say “ Good bye, ” and he concluded by begging her to accept from him,' as a souvenir of maay happy days, a present of the cottage on the cliff at Sandy Cove, that he had purchased at the sale of Paul’s effects : in which he trusted once more to see her and Paul together at some future day, when time should >have lessened the agony of his disappointment. It grjved Paul’s heart to see his friend's distress. “Cheer up, Joe, my dear friend and more than brother, ” he said, as he almost crushed his hand in his affectionate blit irtin grasp. “It might have been better had I died, but I trust to live to repay you. if ever possible, for all the kind acts and generosity you have shown to Polly. You have been sorely punished, my dear Joe, by my return ; but how I grieve to seeyou feel so keenly. You must come and see us often in the old place, and Polly will welcome you with all her heart, as I will; and we will forget that I was lost, and we shall live as we did-before : the door always open to you as our truest friend. ” Joe Smart choked in his attempt to reply to Paul's feeling words ; but biting his lips until the blood flowed, to suppress the emotion which this kind sympathy had awakened, he could only return the pressure of Paul's hand, and hurriedly left the house. As he rushed from the front door in the dark, he came in sudden contact with some person who fell with the shock, and almost immediately afterward, r although he had apologized, he felt a smart blow with a heavy whip across the face. Stung with the pain and with the unmerited insult. Smart instinctively struck his adversary a severe blow on the eye with his only fist, but quickly found himself closed with in return. This had happened in a few seconds, and as Paul had followed Smart with the intention of insisting upon his return, he opened the door and found him engaged in a struggle with Jem Stevens. “ Hallya, what's the row ? ” exclaimed Paul, as he collared Stevens in his powerful grasp'and separated the combatants- “ What ! fight with a one armed man, you coward ? ” saying which, he gave Stevens a push, which sent him staggering some paces distant. Stevens was half blind with passion when he found that his adversary was Joe Smart, of whose position at the rectory he had been for a long time jealous, as he imagined that he counseled Edith against his proposals. Turning quickly upon his heel, he exclaimed, “ You shall hear more of this ! ” and retreating to the stable, he remounted his horse, muttering, “Coward, herreaUed—ruffian, Paul Grey?” On the following morning, as Paul was sitting at the breakfast table with Polly, Mrs. Jones and Edith, a ring was heard at the front bell. Ip about five minutes the door opened, and several constables entered the room, one of whom exhibited a paper, and,laying his hand upon Paul’s shoulder, he said, “ I apprehend you, Paul Grey, upon a charge of willful murder. ” This was the original warrant for his apprehension that had been issued many years ago, when Parson Jones was murdered. • It was useless to resist: however false the charge, there could be no doubt that the warrant was strictly legal ; and Paul, rising from his seat, took leave of Polly, saying, “I shall not be long in settling this farce." He accompanied the constables, who led him before a magistrate. That worthy functionary was James Stevens, Esq. of Heron Hall.

We must now change the scene return to Africa, at a period of about twelve months before Paul's return. It was the rainy season in the country where we left Ned and Tim, but no rain hod fallen. Not a drop of dew moistened the ground; but, parched and withered, the whole land was a bright yellow glare of sunburnt grass. In a large circular hut sat a tall, handsome young man of about twenty years; by his side was a clean skinned, powerful young negro of about the same age; these were Ned and Tim. They were dressed in clothes of beautifully prepared skins divested of tbe hair, re- ; sembling chamois leather. These they had themselves manufactured \ bj* tanning with the fruit of a rnim- | osa, as their stock of European clothes had long since disappeared. The king had been dead for some time, as ho bud been murdered by his subjects, and Ned had been,much , against his will, elected chief. This was a dangerous position, as few of their goVernoM had died a natural death but th«) <•/, neutrally been

sacrificed to some popular superstition.! Ned was at the present time, ‘in a state of great perplexity, as the people were vain ly cry ing so r rai n. == Daily the sky’clouded over, but when all hopes were high, the clouds would gradually disappear without yielding a drop, and the sorcerers had declared to the people that Ned withheld the ran by magic. Added to this unlucky drought, a murrain had broken out among the cattle, which had probably originated from the absence of green fodder; the cows died in great numbers, milk was hardly to be obtained, and the people, dreaded a .famine, as they would be unable to sow their crops in the burning soil. They flocked to their sorcerers, who, having always been jealous of Ned’s supremacy, now boldly declared that it was he who inflicted this curse upon the land. Thousands of natives congregated from all parts of the country, and they determined to wait upon Ned in a vast assemblage to petition him for rain. It was early morning when a hum of distant voices together with the beating of drums and blowing of horns, approached the town. Quickly the drums of many head men responded to the call, and an immense body of people assembled beneath a grove of large fig trees or sycomore, upon a clear spot outside the palisades, as there was no open space within the town sufficiently large to contain them. In a short time the sorcerers waited upon Ned, and requested him to appear before the people. It was not without some misgiv- ' ings that Ned, accompanied by Tim and old Nero, responded to the call. The dog was no longer the bounding and playful animal of former days; his muzzle had grown gray, and his expression had become solemn; while his ey es deeply sunk within his head showed the effect of age. A loud shout from the multitude welcomed Ned’s appearance, and he took his seat beneath a sycamore, with Tim by his side. There was no shade, as the long continued dry weather had withered the leaves, few of which remained upon the trees. As Ned sat down, the air rang with the shouts of many voices—- “ Rain! rainl great chief. Give us rain, or we all perish!” These cries continued with increasing vehemence, until the excitement became so great that many brandished their lances in menacing attitudes, as though to imply that they would have recourse to violence should their demands not be complied with. Ned had now mastered the language so as to speak fluently, and as the tumult increased he was about to address them, when Tim interrupted him with the advice: “Massa Ned, these niggers not like us. Dey all same like a mad bull; just give ’em an idea, dey knock dore heads against if. Now dey got de idea ‘no rain come cos of Massa Ned;’ now dey run der heads slick at Massa Ned and kill us sartin!” “You are right, Tim,” said Ned, “they are merely brutes in impulse, and I fear we shall be the victims of their ignorant passions. I see no hope except in delay. We must endeavor to keep them patient for a few days and take, the chances of rain.” “De rain not come, Massa Ned. I know de custom in de sky in dis bad country; four or five years p’raps de rain come, den one year come dry as tinder; not a drop of water. Den de niggers kill de kh?*. and all de rain makers. Dis year no rain come and we be killed if not run-away, Tim don't care for self, but bad job for Massa Ned.” “Escape is impossible,” said Ned. “How often would we escaped from this hateful land if it had been practicable. Our only chance would be i Zanzibar; that is at least five hundred miles from here. How could we accomplish such a journey without means of any kind to pass through the various tribes, all of which are hostile to each other?” “I know all dat, Massa Ned,” replied Tim. “P’raps we get killed on de road, but fiat's only p'raps, if we stop here dere's no p’raps, only killed for sartin. If we not look sharp,” continued Tim, we will be killed today! Look at the niggers now, see how dey cuss and hark what dey say, ‘Kill de white man and de black dog!’ Now dey tink de poor Nero stopped de rain; stoopid niggers!" At this time the excitement had reached so high a pitch that, as Tim I described, the crowd were shouting ! for the death of Ned and the dog, as strange creatures that must have brought tne calamity upon the country. “I know de trick, Massa Ned,” exclaimed Tim suddenly when the tumult was at its height and one man had 1 n his excitement thrown a lance at Ned, which he narrowly escaped. “Massa Ned, holler out‘Stop de row,’ de rain’s a coming!' Holler quick! or we’ll be killed sartin!” continued Tim, as another lance whizzed past his ear. . On the impulse of the moment Ned rose from the ground, and, throwing his arms high above his head, he shouted in a loud voice that the people should be silent. The tumult quickly subsided, as Ned's tall and commanding figure produced a sudden effect and they expected that ho would speak. “Now Massa Ned.” said Tim, quickly, “tell ’em you call rain in six days, but you want to go to fetch it. Tell ’em you know de place whergdo rain's shut up. De niggers, stoopid fools, bertevc all dis. Den we get six day's start and cut an run. Dat's de trick, ’xactly!” < Ned qualified Tim's sagacious idea, and having obtained perfect silence, hs addressed tae a iorcl

ble speech, blaming them for certain crimes they had committed, and declaring that the drought was thoroughly merited for the murder of their late king. , He continued by threatening them with the vengeance of the Great Spirit should they persistin their -de termination to sacrifice him and the dog. and reminded that although the drought and the murrain had visited them, the locusts and the small pox had not yet arrived—plagues infinitely worse than the former —that would punish their offenses. Ned concluded by demanding six days of seclusion, during when he ‘was to be left entirely alone, with- Tim and his dog, in a grove of palm trees about three mi|es from the town, on the borders of the lake, as he wished to observe the sun. Should he fail to bring rain before the sixth day, he offered to become a sacrifice for the good of the peole. (to be continued.)

In Battle. St. T.ouis dlobe-Democrat. “You can not always tell by a man's record in civil life whether or not he will make a good soldier, ” said Col. Harry E. Goodenough, at the Laclede. “In my regiment, during the civil war, were several of my old schoolmates, and I watched their conduct in the several trying positions in which they were placed with considerable interest. There was one young fellow who always showed the white feather in the little scrimmages at school. A boy half his size could bluff him, and he seemed to have a mortal dread of getting hurt. We nicknamed him ‘Sissy.’ yet that same fellow was always first and foremost in a charge, was brave even to recklessness, and earned a lieutenant’s commission for gallantry in tho first battle in which he participated. During the first day’s fighting at Shiloh his left arm was shattered by a grapeshot. He went to the rear, had the wound bandaged, came back and stayed at the front. Another schoolmate, who was popularly supposed to be the embodiment of physical courage, always required a sergeant's bayonet behind him to hold him in the ranks. He would flunk at the first fire. The whistle of the bullet reduced him to a state of terror that was pitiable. During! a skirmish I-once found him crouching behind a log. his teeth chattering as wij,h the ague. I ordered him to the front, and he got on his knees and begged me not to send him there to be murdered. Yet he had thrashed me a dozen times when we we were boys. He would have fought Heenan with bare knuckles and gloried in it, even if he knew he would be whipped. The first came out of the war a onearmed major with a record for heroic courage; the latter was drummed out of the army for arrant cowardice. Yet both were brave men and both were cowards in a way. It requires a different kind of courage to face grape and canjster from th at required to stand up in a prize ring and fight to a finish. Some men may have both, but I think the combination is a rare one. I have seen many a soldier of proved courage in battle weaken before bare knuckles. I have seen many a bruiser try to run his nose into the ground when the flame escaped from a hostile battery. ”