Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 36, Number 106, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 2 September 1904 — The Sea Scourge [ARTICLE]

The Sea Scourge

CHAPTER Vl.— (Continued.) As soon as the enemy showed a disposition to lay down their arms. Marl •Laroon gave the order for stopping the conflict. There were but about thirty Russians left alive, and they were huddled together upon the forecastle. They ss«id down their arms upon promise of their lives being spared, and were quickly put in irons. After this was done. Captain Laroon mustered his men. wr-d f<rty-s«ven answered to their linings, so •thirty-three were either dead or so badly wounded as not to be able to answer. The next movement was to clear the’ decks, and hammocks were brought iron the corvette in which to sew the dead bodies. and three men ..were.- .-detailedamong the prisoners to help in the work. They commenced to bury the dead, and >y the time this was accomplished it was. well into the afternoon. As soon as a hasty dinner had boon yrepan'd and eaten, the pirate captain sook some of his men with him and went on board tire- corvette, where ho u.ad. a general overhauling of the cargo and stores. lie found something over •eventy thousand dollars in gold. This was moved first. Next he took what provisions he could conveniently stow away, considerable ammunition and arms, some sails and rigging, and all the charts, signals, mathematical insiriiments. etc. The next movement was to get the corvette’s boats down and put r,to- prisoners into them —all save seven, *ho wished to join the pirates, ami who were gladly taken. The rest were directed to pull for the shore as quickly «s they pleased, and as soon as they shoved off the ship was set on fire in Salt a dozen places. It was just dark when the pirates 1 d fi.'td their mainyard so that sail could he made on it, and by this time the corvette was in flames. Ere long the Scourge was sweeping away to the aorthward, and just as her boatswain was calling the first watch, a broad, wild glare shot up into the heavens, and on the next moment a loud roar burst upon the air. and the devoted corvette was hut a olack, charred mass of torn :.nd Toasted timbers.

CHAPTER VII. Patil had not so much to attend to as me might have imagined. There were but a few cuts, aud even those were not «f much moment. He had only six men upon his list, and these he promised to restore to duty in a few days. The old gunner Was —in a precarious situation, aud the surgeon assured him that it was ■*tdy by scrupulous care -that he could bop. to recover. On the morning of the third day from the Engagement with the corvette. land' na reported directly ahead, and in an lour more other land was made out upon the larboard bow and beam. At 10 s’clock a number of small islands were plainly distinguished, and before noon the brig had run in among them. After this, her course was laid more to the southward, and to one not used to the place it appeared as though the ■vessel r.is to be run on shore. But ere 1< g a narrow inlet Was opened, between what proved to be the. mainland and a tirge island, and beyond there appeared a wide bay. -The track throughthis Helot was a dubious one, for huge black rocks lifted their heads above water on • .cry Land; but the brig was run safein. and was then within a circular bay some ten miles in diameter. I’. it the end was not yet. Toward the eastern .-ide of this bay appeared to be a sort of cape extending out some distance com the mainland, but which proved, tpon approaching it, to be an island *.lticb stood at the mouth of a smaller say. Around this island the brig made '•er way, and ere long she was anchored at the mouth of quite a respectable river. This was Silver Bay, and the river &< re the same name. Its position was «pon the coast of Japan, and some fifty «r sixty miles distant from Nagasaka. It was a strange place in view of its natural defenses, and seemed made for the use to which it was now put. Marl Laroon had received it from an old treefooter who had used it for many years. «ud probably the present chieftain fold tlie truth when he said that it had been » piratical retreat for nearly two centuries.

"How long shall we lay here, capu>iu; asked Buffo Burnington. alter rvefvtliing had been put to rights. “Perhaps a mouth. That last haul from the corvette may give us a longer resting -pell than 1 had before eak-ulat-vd upon.” Then turning to Paul, who stood near him, he said: “Do you want go up with me this evening?” The youth started, but if he felt any strong emotion he quickly subdued t, lor tie soon replied, and without any Hsiyittion: “I think if you go up this evening I k»d better wait until you come back, for I do not think it safe to leave Ben Marton alone. Either you or 1 should be with him.” “What is the need of that?" “He is very low, now, and his recovery depends entirely upon his being suited in every respect. If we can keep lien easy, say four days at the outside. k<e will be over the crisis. So you go up v» night, and when you come back I'll <w” Thu captain's first impulse was to leave ’Bell Marton out of the question, ¥«• lie dared not do such a thing ns that in the presence of his crew. But he newt down to see the old man. and it *»s liis request that either Paul ( or the raptnin should stick by him. So finally Laroon agreed to “go up" alone, and kt Paul “go up" on tl»e morrow. Ac■.■nmlingiy, just at >iftidpwii. the I.oat ara» manned and the captain was ptilled away up the river. I) nas near midnight, and the old gunner bad fallen asleep. Paul watched until lie was sure he slept, mid ' li.rn lie went U|ion deck. The night w»s calm and serene, ami the heavens were cloudless. He was alone upon the quarter deck, the anchor watch being all forward. A deep sigh escaped him as he *a( dawn, and he bowed his head upon ■fcw Baads. “Atas!” he murmured to himself, “how fesig must this last? Why should 1 thus Be rwt open the world in outlaw's shoes, east Be only a candidate for the gallows, «rM» my heart shudders at the Idnckamw es its life, aud my soul turns in

h atbing from the things of evil that surround me?' At that moment the youth heard a movement near him, and on Ipokihgjup be saw the outlines of a human figure. He started to his feet, and as he did so.the intruder spoke: "I trust I have not offended?'’” "But nington,” cried l‘autr extending his hand. "No, no, you need not fear to. offend me by your pi’esom-e, for i have had it when my very life hung upon it." —UUAs the youth spoke Ik 1 sat down upon the carriage of a gun, leaving room for Buffo to sit by his side. "I suppose you saved my life as much for the captain's- sake a-s my own?” the young man said, after Burnington had seated himself. "Why should thought of the captain?" "Because you thought him to be my father. Did I not hear you speak of my resemblance to him?" "Yes, for you both stood by the binnacle as I spoke, and you looked more then like Marl Laroon than you did like a binnacle. I only discovered that you both belonged to the same family of animate beings—that you were both of Adam. Blit let that pass. .When Caucasian parents give birth to an Ashantee child then I might believe that some few drops of Mari Laroon’s blood flowed in your veins, but not till then. And yet I—i have seen some members of a family whom you resemble." Paul started and placed bis hand upon Buffo's arm. - “Do you mean anything by that?" he asked, in a low tone. “Yes. I mean that I have seen those of whom your face puts me in mind." “And who arc they? Where do they live? The name?” “Let me ask you a question first. How long have you been here?" "Ever since I can remember." “And you can remember nothing back of that?” “Yes,” returned I’aul, eagerly, and yet sadly. *T can remember of playing in a wide park and riding a little pony. And I can remember of a little brook where I used to play in the water.” “And do you remember the name of the person with whom you lived then?” “No, sir. Laroon has done everything in his power to make m'e forget those things; and what with my youth, and with his falsehood, I have forgotten it all. I can remember one cold, wet day. of being taken into a carriage with a strange man, and my little Mary with me —and of being driven off a long distance, and then Marl Laroon came up, and during the rest of the day we walked. And I can remember how little Mary cried and how he told her he would kill tier if she did not stop'. And then we stopped at a strange house and slept that night and the next day we reached the place where I saw the ships and- wharves. That was Boston, its Marl has since told me.” “Did you come here then ?” “No. His rendezvous was —then in Manila. We remained there until I was ten years old, and then ho took me to sea, and left Mary in care of an old wbman there. When I was fourteen he moved his headquarters to this place, and since then Mary has lived here. He and the Malays have harried the seas ever since.” “Is this girl of „ whom you speak a sister of yours?” “Oh, no,” quickly replied the youth. “Did you ask Laroon whom you used to live with?” “Yes, and he told me it was with a man named Delany.” "Then why did you say you had forgotten the name?” "Because I do not think that is true.” For some moments Burnington was silent. but at length he said: “Did you ever know any one whom you called ‘Uncle Stephen’?” I’aul started to his feet and laid 'noth his hands upon his companion's shoulders, and after gazing a few moments into his Lice he said: "Speak that name again.” “Uncle Stephen.” “Ay, I remember it well. Now do I know that that name has often pfattled over my boyhood's tongue. But there is more. Stephen is but half the name.” “Humphrey,” said Buffo, in a low tone.

The youth sat back upon the gun carriage and folded his hands in his lap. "Why, or, why,” he murmured, “have I never been able to call these things to mind? Oh, how clear, now, is the whole thing! How well do I remember that name—Uncle Stephen—Stephen Humphrey. But tell me, sir, what' you of this.” >Burnington made no answer, but sat with his dark face hidden in his great bands. Paul had more time to reflect, and his anxiety grew apace. “You must know something of my people—something of my early childhood. Do not refuse me.” "I know your countenance puts me in mind of those whom 1 have seen,” returned Burningtmrj'Who, after some hesij tation, added, “I was at Col. Stephen's "Col. Stephen?” interrupted Paul, with energy. "Then I am honorably connected?"

"You once had most honorable friends. But )et mo go on. I was once at Col. Stephen Humphrey’s, and I saw you there. I„ nm sure 'twas you. That was seventeen years ago. Yon were a mere infant then, perhaps two years old. I can teli you no more, save that 1 knew you from the very lines of your face.” "But tel) mo if 1 have friends living:” "Yes, you have friends all about yon. Ben Marton would die tor you, and half the crew ” "I know that," interrupted. Fa'iiT. wifTi a grateful emotion manifest in his tone: "but you know what I mean. Have 1 any friends in America'.'" “Hark! what sound was that':" '‘Poor Ben is awake." added Paul, starting to his feet. "We shall converse ngititi.” "Perhaps so. The youth heat'll Ben's voice calling to turn, and he stopped to say no more. Buffo Burnington watched the graceful figure of his companion until it had disappeared down the companion-way, and then he arose and walked forward, muttering to himself as he went: ‘‘He has a friend he little dream* of."

CHAPTER VIII. On the following day.' toward the middle of the forenoon, I’aul, left the brig to go up the river. He had the same boat which tire captain had used the evening previous. and he would have had the same crew hail lie listened to the will of Laroon. But he-was determined to have men of bis own choosing, and he did so. For the first time in his life he believed the chieftain wished to play tho spy upon his motions, for there was something in Marl Laroon’s look and tone while ho was trying to force a boat's crew of bis own (selection upon the youth, which seemed to indicate that be had some secret reason for wishing it; but Paul simply remarked that he bad promised four of his best friends that they should go up with him, and go they should. "You will take good care of Ben.” said the youth, as he stood in the gangway. —•"“Certain 1 y." returned Marl,-- -gruft!y, and with ill humor. As soon as the boat had fairly entered the river, the scene became delightful in the extreme. The bed of the stream seemed to be composed of white sand, and it gave to the water tliat brilliant, silvery appearance which had suggested the name of the stream and the bay. The banks were covered with aromatic shrubs, and flowers of every size and hue were abundant. It was amid such a scene that the boat was pulled for a distance of five miles ere anything like a human habitation was seen. But at -length, as they rounded an abrupt angle in the river, they came in sight of a elump of buildings, most of which were small, thatched cots; but upon one side, where a rivulet flowed down to the river, stood a large building of stone, seeming to have been originally erected for a place of refuge, for it was surrounded by a. high wall with circular towers at tlie angles, in which were numerous embrasures for guns, though no guns were at present to be seen. Towards this castle-like byilding the boat was pulled, entering the small tributary stream which flowed beneath the wall. When they reached the point where, the water came from beneath the wall Paul gave a loud cry, and ere long a human head appeared on the other side, and soon afterwards a heavy portcullis was raised, and the boat glided beneath tlic heavy arch which was thus guarded. This building was constructed somewhat after the Moorish style of architecture, and was quite spacious. Thera jvere two stories above ground, and how much there was below this even I’aul himself did not know. In one of the chambers of this place —a chamber sumptuously furnished —sat a female. '-She was not more than seventeen years of age, and as beautiful as the fabled houri. In form she was light and graceful; Iler hair was a light auburn, having a golden hue where the light rested upon it. Her eyes were a deep; sparkling blue, and her features were as regular and finely chiseled as the most ambitious sculptor could wish to imitate. Slue was called by those who knew her now, Mary Delaney. She was sitting by a window which overlooked the hills and plains back of the building, and there had surely been tears upon her cheeks. The expression of her face was one of eager, anxious earnestness, and at the slightest noise she started up, while the rich blood mounted to her face. Soon there came .the sound of footsteps upon the stairs, and some one approached her room. She started to her feet —her door was opened —she saw the form of a man—and on the next moment she was clasped to the bosom of I’aul Laroon. "Oh. I’aul, Paul!’* - She murmured, as she wound her arms more tightly about his nock, and gazed up through her happy tears, "thanks be to heaven that I see you once more. Oh. Paul, my own dear ” She did not finish the sentence, for the word she would have uttered seemed to stick in her throat. "I am back once more, Mary.” the young man said, as be led tier to a sofa and sat down by her side, “and what a joy is mine to find you so well and in safety. Oh, this has been a long, long year.” “And why did you not come and see me last spring, when the captain came? Oh. I watched for you then. He said that l?ou did not care to come.” And as the girl spoke she burst into tears. (To be continued.)