Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 21, Number 28, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 29 December 1899 — The Sea King. [ARTICLE]

The Sea King.

ROMANCE OF THE WAR OF 1812.-^)

By CAPTAIN MARRYAT.

I CHAPTER Vlll.—(Continued.) gHnen had our hero thought that he had SHiiwtgomerT. before his introduction ■pm by Miss'Hamilton; but he strove |Br*in to recollect when and where; the was familiar to him, but he IflEWrag to mind no event that might Ke to place it in position; but now' he Kjfece remembered him as the youth ■» had been his rival in attempting to {■me the child. • HBSh&t I have opposed you in both the |BpSces you cite,” said Sutherland, “I ■Knot pretend to deny; but, Mr. MontBpery, you must certainly be convinced SKI that opposition was the effect of ■Bifeee, not of preconcerted resolve. You IHEnt suppose me so studiously hostile |Sp£ar welfare as to wish for a moment I* frustrate your intentions.” SB®|.your thoughts, Captain Sutherland, ■|l stranger. I but look at circumas they exist. You have injured deeply injured me, and must ■fat me!” . iKpight you!” ejaculated Sutherland, in ■pked astonishment. KAy. sir, fight me! Here are weap■s, and we have both place and opporBetween men of honor, assistK may be dispensed with.” gß|Are you mad, Montgomery?” ■‘Captain Sutherland, it is useless to words. I am neither mad nor ■buK; you have wronged me, and I deKfed the only satisfaction that you have |ljj|reur power to give. Do you underhand me?” sir; give me the pistol.” ■pNow name your distance.” Kjlhat, sir, is your prerogative.” HpE know it; but in this instance I will Kego its exercise.” HpPynat do you think of ten paces?” r*Be it ten paces.” ■fcmtgomery wheeled and stepped off ■^distance. ■gyVill you give the word, Captain Suth■jjmd?” |BDo you give it, sir.” ■■Are you ready?” SBpeady,” responded our hero, placing ■piself in position. ■iFire! One —two —three!” ■*The pistols went off simultaneously, Hi Montgomery fell. Iprou have triumphed,” said the fallen ■an. “Fate has declared against me.” ■Sutherland stooped and examined the B|tnd; it was not mortal; the ball had ■toed through the limb without coming KJptact with the bone. Tearing off his ■tvat, be bound the limb tightly above ■e wound, and requesting the sufferer ■remain still for a few minutes, he flew ■ the city for further assistance. HavEg procured it, he returned; but Mont■tery was not to be found; some unpows hand had borne him away; a carEage had passed them on the road, and ■ptherland concluded that the wounded ■in bad been discovered by its inmates Bp-; taken to the city. Efn a state of feverish excitement he re■rned to his lodgings. The events of the ■ting were of so agitating a nature ■at it was impossible for him to recover Kjaything like equanimity. Upon his ta■e was a letter; hurriedly he broke it ■to; it was from his father’s physician, KpMmding his presence at home, immediKeiy, as his only surviving parent was ■Hthe very verge of death. In an inEant his orders were given, and in less ■an a half hour he was driving furi■py toward Philadelphia. I CHAPTER IX. KWhen Captain Sutherland drove up the nrenue leading to his paternal door, his ■raes were covered with foam, and his person and vehicle bespattered with mire. Eeaping out, he inquired of his father’s Bide, and was told that he had partially ■covered and was then in a deep slum■r. Instantly he repaired to the sick Bj|mber, and there, seating himself bebde the bed, be settled himself to await ■to moment when bis father should ■rake. At length the sleep of the ;nEaHd was broken. He opened his eyes ■E discovered his son leaning anxiously ■r him. you better, father?” 1, "Much better, Harry, much betteT. But ■r you down, my son; I have many Hags to say to you; many, many things; ■jpd I fear there is but little time left ■ "Father, do not speak thus—do not, I pm jure you!” ■ j| - “Nay, Harry, why should I shut my ■res to the truth? But this is idle; lock ■g-door; I have something to relate, and Ijgould not be interrupted.” The son ■eyed in silence, and after a pause the ■valid resumed: tell me you have engaged your§jelf in marriage with the daughter of Kamil ton; does report speak true, or is t but the unfounded rumor of idle sopQto son blushed deeply. Nor was all ■jfgbashment he felt caused by the reof his father; he was, at that mobiriat, shamed from other recollections. Bpfatber, you have been c-oiTectly iniornied. We are betrothed, and only ■Bjllf jnnr sanction to consummate the jtoid the old man; and he S|Kd himself in the bed, and his lips it yet paler, and his eyes giowed ■Ptfiepi excitement. “Harry—-my son Bliy.oply son; much as I love you, much ■Klngftor yon, anxious as 1 am for your yet would I rather see you gi pjkfc down a livid corpse where you >g i Mjj"tbaa behold you connected in marwas a silence—an awful silence; (he unbroken stillness upon the

so mortally offend? Speak, father, I implore you!” “Be still, be still! you shall hear all—everything! I had hoped that the grave would close over my sorrows. I never wished to entail my miseries upon you; but circumstances demand that all should be told you. You ask me how the daughter of Hamilton has offended; the blame is not with her, but with a relative; nevertheless, you cannot take her to your bosom; you will not—you dare not. Did you, the memory of my wrongs, of my sufferings, would blast your happiness forever. When at college I became very much attached to a fellow-student of about my own age. He was affable, handsome and witty. ’Twas he who introduced me to your mother; I saw her, loved her, and at last addressed her. She accepted me, but her parents refused their consent; they wished her to wed another. After much entreaty she agreed to elope with me; everything was arranged by him, and we were married. For more than one year, during which time this man had been a constant visitor at my house, we lived together in harmony and happiness. Your mother was gay, fond of society, and was what may be called a fashionable woman. After marriage I shrank from the dissipations of society. Business demanded my presence in the South. Thither I went; and when I returned, expecting to clasp my wife to my bosom—but why linger over my disgrace?—when I returned I found she had gone off—eloped with my black-hearted friend, the brother of Senator Hamilton; the uncle of the woman you would have made your wife!” “Heaven, support me!” exclaimed the son;.and his voice was the speech of anguish. “Oh, father, father! is this true, or is It some horrible stratagem you have invented to prevent a marriage that will not meet your approval?” The sick man shook his head mournfully. “Think you, my son,” said he—and his voice was weaker than it yet had been —“think you that, standing as I do upon the very brink of eternity, my lips at such a moment would be stained with a lieT’ “Then it is true, all true?” “Yea, my boy.” “Then heaven pity me!” exclaimed Harry Sutherland; and his honors,' and his fame, and his pride, were lost to him forever. He saw them break, separate, and vanish like clouds below the horizon. “And does the. fiend still live?” whispered he. “He does, but under a feigned name. In a drunken brawl he added the crime of murder to the black catalogue of his misdeeds; and was obliged to fly his country to escape the vengeance of her laws.” “His name, father?” “Hamilton.” “That wMch he has adopted?” “Manly.”

The horrid truth at once flashed upon the mind of the son,; twenty circumstances rushed to his memory to attest the correctness of his suspicions. More than once had he thought that some intimate connection has subsisted between the Senator and the privateersman; but as there was an evident aim at secrecy in the relationship, he had always in delicacy forborne to penetrate the mystery. But now ah was plain; the letter given Mm by Manly, the perturbation with which it was first- received by the father of Anna, and Ms subsequent satisfaction when he discovered that Sutherland was not aware of the real name of the captain. “For long years,” resumed, the sick man, “I have concealed from everyone the bitter cause of my despondency. After that event, the death-blow of my hopes and happiness, I removed hither, and here have I dwelt, an alien from my species, and an exile from the sunny spot that gave me birth. Harry, my son, give me your hand. If, my boy, I have ever treated you with undue harshness, you will forgive me.” “Father, father, I have nothing to forgive. You have been ever kind; and ’tis I who should ask pardon for a thousand offenses of my wayward youth.” “Heaven bless you, Harry, my son. And now I have but one favor to ask; bring me hither the portrait of your mother; you will find the key of her chamber in my escitoire; quick, quick, ITarry; quick, my boy, I’m dying!” The son left the room, and in a moment returned with the likenews, which he placed at the foot of the bed; the sick man made an impatient gesture with his hand, and he withdrew .the curtain which had always screened it Long and steadfastly did both father and son gaze upon that picture; and when, after the silence had been painfully prolonged, the latter turned, he was struck with the vacant expression and the unearthly color of the invalid’s countenance. He drew nearer, he bent over Mm, he wMsperd “Father!” no answer was returned; he took Ms hand; it was colder than marble; he kissed his pale forehead, but the death sweat was on it His career on earth was done forever. - ». About a week after the interment of his father Harry Sutherland was sitting alone in his chamber when a servant entered with a packet. It was a communication from the Secretary of the Navy, requiring Mm to take immediate command of the sloop of war Sparrow Hawk, as the commander who had been appointed to her was dangerously ill, and it was necessary that she should proceed immediately upon her destination. In an instant his mind was made up. His arrangements were soon effected; to an agent of tried integrity he left the management of Ms estate, and bidding adieu to the solitary bads of Ms paternal abode, he quitted them far the ruder home of Ms adoption. In a very few days after he was welcomed on board the Sparrow

Neveraink were no longer wen along the horizon. The reader must now follow os along the shores of the New World as far aa the twSnty-third degree of south latitude. In or about that parallel a beautiful ship was resting almost motionless upon the water; the sea breeze that had prevailed during the day was dying away as the sun descended, and although she was under a press of canvas, scarcely a ripple was perceptible about her bows. Upon the after part of the quarterdeck stood a solitary individual, gazing out abstractedly upon the scene. He was apparently lost in thought, and his clouded brow and dejected mien but too well told that his meditation was of a deep and painful nature. On the opposite side of the deck the officer of the watch leaned in a musing attitude against the bulwarks. “Frederick,” said Captain Manly, for it was that visionary man, and the vessel was the renowned Sea King. “I will leave you here; the wind has all died away, and you will not get the land breeze until morning. The mouth of the harbor is not more than seven miles distant, and we can pull thither in less than {wo hours. You may send all the men aft, sir.” The officer of the deck touched his hat respectfully; the orders necessary were given, and in a few mintes the crew had all assembled about the mizzen mast. “My lads,” said the commander, “my gallant lads! I have called yon together for the purpose of bidding you farewell; never, in the whole course of my life, and it has been one fraught with sorrowful events, has a sadder duty devolved upon me. Had our country persisted in the struggle she so ably maintained this separation should not yet have taken place; but even then, a time would come when we should part; death perhaps would have torn me from you, but would have at least spared me the pangs I now experience. Here I must leave you, and leave yon forever.” The speaker turned away; his emotion was almost masterless; and he abruptly finished a discourse he fain would have prolonged, as he had left many thoughts he wished to communicate unexpressed. Then, for a full half hour he paced the deck, in earnest conversation with the officer of the watch; to him he delegated his authority, instructing him to return to New York, distribute the prize money equally among the crew, and make what disposition he pleased of the ship. Finally the coxswain gave the order to shove off, and in the next moment the bows of the cutter were rippling the surface of the sleeping ocean. When nearly half a mile distant the rowers suddenly ceased their labor, and. the exile stood up to take a last look at Ms gallant vessel. Long and steadfastly he gazed; but, sigMng at length, he reseated himself, and the cutter again commenced moving through the water. Two hours afterward she swept past the Castle of Santa Cruz, into the harbor of Rio Janeiro, and at early daybreak she was once more alongside of the Sea King.

CHAPTER X. In one of the most delightful provinces of Mexico there winds a valley of surpassing beauty, from the shores of the Atlantic on one side to those of the Pacific on the other; from its most northern boundary to Yucatan there is no spot on earth more lovely, although a hundred thousand scenes of enchantment diversify that romantic region. A solitary individual looked from an eminence upon this scene, and within a few feet of him his charger pawed the ground and champed the bit as if chiding his master for his unnecessary delay. As the stranger gazed his eye settled on vacancy, and Ms countenance underwent a change of expression. Thought, the Pilgrim, wandered to distant shores, and the reminiscences of other days came sadly upon him. At length a tear trickled down his cheek; it awoke him; he washed it sternly away, and vaulting in his saddle galloped wildly down the declivity. Five minutes’ ride, and he reined up in front of his dwelling, a low square building, with a small court in the center, and surrounded on all sides by orange trees. The stranger was John Montgomery. After Ms encounter with Sutherland he was borne from the field by an acquaintance whom chance directed that way. and in the course of a few weeks his wound was healed and his health perfectly restored. But he arose from his couch sick at heart; no medicines could bring tranquility to his mind; its peace had departed forever, and he sought the balm that might soothe, if not cure its disease, in a land that was foreign to his own, and among a race that were alien in language, in blood and in affection. Here then he dwelt, a solitary man, undisturbed in Ms seclusion, and enjoying an external quiet that was a mockery to the feelings of his bosom. fVith Ms books, Me music, he whiled a way the hours, only varying these pursuits by an occasional expedition in the interior, or a ride along the wMte sands of the seashore. But at such times he was always alone; the stem recluse permitted none to intrude upon his privacy, and many an urbane overture of fellowship was repulsed by the haughty frown of that isolated stranger. The singular mode of life adopted by El Hermano Ermitano, as he was designated by the people of the place, was well calculated to excite public curiosity., In tMs state of seclusion had Montgomery existed for nearly six months from the date of his first settlement in the country, when his retiracy was one morning disturbed by the entrance of a stranger. The recluse shut the book he had been perusing, and rising with a scowl on Ms brow, haughtily responded to Ms visitor’s salutation; the intruder was the Governor of Tampico. “May I ask what business has honored me with a visit from Don Manual de SUva?” “It is not business that brought me hither, Don Juan de Hautville,” responded the newcomer; “but a desire to become acquainted with one whom I respect for his nation’s sake, and whom I would willingly serve for his own.” “In the name of my country I thank you,” coldly replied Montgomery, “and for your proffers of assistance I am also grateful; when I need it I shall perhaps apply to you.” The governor was partially disconcerted by the frigid manner of his companion, and there was a slight pause of evident uneasiness before he again resumed. “I am afraid,” said he, “that you have “ 7 *

tinue to misconstrue my intention to tank* ing it Adios.” "Stop, Don Manuel, I crave your pardon—l was hasty—l was wrong—l was rude, but when I explain——” "Nay, Don Juan,” interrupted the governor, "do apology ia necessary; the acknowledgments that you have just made amply excuse the past I have forgotten it” They crossed the river, and in a short time arrived at the governor’s residence. Here Montgomery was presented to the wife and daughter of his host; the former a stately dame of thirty-five, and the latter a beautiful, black-eyed senorita of seventeen. So pleased was he with their companionship that he tarried until a late hour, and, strange to say, from that time the visits of Montgomery became more and more frequent at the house of Don Manuel. (To be continued.)